#I hold my pen between my middle and ring finger

[fingertipsmp3]

My eczema is actually driving me out of my mind I swear to fucking god

[biteyoubiteme]

hehe i loved the beomjun!! meow ilysm for that. (yes same anon hiii)💫

so just like….what if…

taegyu thoughts.

(both nsfw and sfw:))

sfw/nsfw taegyu x reader thoughts

taehyun x reader x beomgyu

warnings: 🔞!!! throuple/poly, no mxm, oral (f!rec), choking (f!rec), fingering, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.4k

an: YAY i’m so glad you liked the beomjun x reader thoughts! and i’m so glad you came back to ask about taegyu bc their energy omg- I hope you like this one too!

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

I think both of them lean into quality time and physical touch. The three of you could spend hours leaning back against the headboard of your bed, gyu strumming to his guitar, taehyun humming along. The two of them playing around with song ideas. The perfect soundtrack for your studying. beomgyu stealing your pens to show you how he can twirl them between his fingers. taehyun distracting you with a little magic trick, pen gone with the excuse of, “Well I guess you just have to do your work later,”

Both of them are heavy into napping and will curl up with you anywhere they can. taehyun wraps his whole body around yours, face always pressed into your neck. Beomgyu loves to fix your hair and will fall asleep petting/patting your head. 

The three of you are having arm wrestling competitions to choose who gets to pick dinner. It's a very biased way to decide but fun nonetheless. Taehyun never lets beomgyu win, beomgyu never lets you win, taehyun always lets you win. 

Lots of cheek kissing, if you give one of them a cheek kiss the other needs one. The second you pull away from taehyun, gyu is next to you with his finger pointing right where he wants you to place your lips. Linked arms with you in the middle when you're waiting in line for something. Both of them love to hold your hands. The three of you walking linked together when weaving through crowds. 

And the hand holding never stops. The best time is when you're sitting on taehyuns face, your knees digging into the mattress while gyu holds your hands. Long fingers laced with yours, the grin on his face showing off his teeth as he chuckles at every little reaction you have to taehyun sucking your clit. Loves to watch the way your eyes roll back, arms trembling as your grip tightens on his hands. beomgyu will keep you seated even after cumming, fingers around your neck as you grind down on taehyuns mouth, his humming approval going straight up your spine. 

“Going stupid over a little stimulation, I'm sure he's not even doing that well,” beomgyu will tease, “our whiny baby looks so pretty like this,” 

Both of them will argue over the right way to finger you. Tae is strictly pointer and middle finger, beomgyu middle and ring. Will go back and forth forever with you spread on the bed. Beomgyu will tug taehyuns hand from your cunt just to replace it with his own, “See, same reaction, but this way I can do this,” the heel of his palm pressed to your clit as he proves his point. They switch often not caring that you've cum three times already only about who actually got you there. “Two for me and only one for you i guess we know the winner,” 

“Fuck that, give me a second and she won't even be able to talk,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[thetealsky]

Moving a little too fast || Spencer Reid X fem!Reader

This was it. The moment he'd been fixating on since he bought the ring three weeks ago. They were both sat at the round table going through a case, everyone else having cleared out an hour before. She'd insisted she was close to a breakthrough and he'd indulged.

This was it. He took one last glance at her, totally engrossed in crime scene photos, absently flicking a pen between her fingers.

He stood, smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers, cleared his throat, and got down on one knee. This was it.

"Sweetheart I-"

"Spence?"

His head swiveled up as he held up the ring between his fingers. There was a beautiful little crinkle in her brow, her eyes flicking between him and the ring.

He'd rehursed his speech thousands of times at this point, the words burned into his iodetic memory.

"I- ever since your first day at the BAU I felt this unexplainable connection. Even when I could barely string a sentence together around you I could just feel-" Hands cupping his brought him out of his monologue.

"Spencer, baby," her smile was soft but the crinkle remained, "god forbid I interrupt being told how loved I am, but what is this really about?" One hand came up to cup his jaw.

"I- what? I'm, I'm proposing." This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His fingers pushed down on the ring. He couldn't feel the scratch of his cardigan, suddenly stiflingly hot.

"And in another circumstance I'd say your doing an amazing job but, baby, why are you proposing? We've been together less that a year." She let out a soft chuckle, thumb absently stroking his cheek.

He looked down, fiddling with the ring in his hand.

"I just - I just thought -" He just wanted to have a future with her. He just wanted to know she'd be there when he woke up.

She could see his big brain whirring behind his eyes. She slipped out of her chair and met him on the floor. Pulling his body into a relaxed hug, she gave relief to his previously bent knee and his hands were able to drop into her lap, ring trapped between his palms.

"Take your time baby." She said, kissing his temple and then simply holding him.

They stayed there a few moments, breathing slowly syncing up.

"I -" Spencers voice cracked slightly, "I thought if we got married, if we were serious, then you wouldn't leave." He couldn't look at her, head down in shame.

"Oh Spence, look at me baby." Softly tilting his chin up to eye level, "I'm not going anywhere. I would love to marry you some day, but I want that to be because we're both ready"

"I'm sorry, your right. It- It was stupid." He mumbled.

"Hey. It wasn't stupid. And it's important for me to know that you need reassurance. What if we meet in the middle. I was gonna tell you next month but my lease is nearly up. Think you could make room for me among your books?"

"Really?" There was the Spencer she knew, shoulders high, hands naturally finding her waist, hauling her closer in excitement, "I'd get to see you every morning when we wake up." He was almost vibrating now.

"Sounds perfect to me." She sat up and straightened herself, "think it's time to head home, why don't you hide that very pretty ring you got me, save it for when we're ready?"

Home. He looked up at her grinning form. He was already home.

[keeksandgigz]

Hey Keeks! So I was day dreaming while I was looking at my ring that has a Lilith sigil on it and now I’m thinking about Witchy giving Eddie something like it

Im mixing these two @rebelfell hehe here's a little vignette, for some reason Eddie doing crystal shop deliveries makes me think of Kronk. <3

Hope u enjoy!!

You pick up the phone attached to the wall.

"Genesis Records. Eddie speaking, what's up?" you smile as you imagine him leaning against the wall, holding the landline phone between his ear and shoulder as he gets a pen and paper to take notes in case it's some important shipment information.

"Ed, it's me" you huff out, and you can feel the smile from the other side of the receiver, he likes it when you call him at work, his heart picks up- maybe at the chance that he might have to sneak off upstairs into his apartment when you happen to have coordinated lunch breaks.

"Hey, witchy, I'm about to go on my lunch, I'll see you upstairs in five-" you're quick to interrupt him.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, I'm not on my lunch. I called you because I need your help" you're overwhelmed and don't seem to be in the mood for his shenanigans. You can sense his smile dropping immediately, a slow cast of concern washing over his face.

"What is it, baby?" his tone is suddenly muted, like a child that got scolded for talking too much from his teacher.

"We're understaffed. It's just me and Naradea right now, we need someone to do deliveries, we're incredibly backed up with them" You purse your lips together, hoping for a decisive 'yes' "I'll send you a list of addresses and I'll pay for gas and stuff, you just need to drive around town and deliver some packages- crystals, potions, the works" you huff out, half- stressed.

It takes him a second to think about it "Matt can cover me, I'll be over in a second lemme grab my truck and I'll meet you in the courtyard?" and you exhale a sigh of relief as he hangs up and gets his truck over to the back entrance of your store.

You run out, a couple small boxes in your hands "Thank you so much for doing this, I'll uh... make sure you're rewarded plenty tonight" you whisper against his cheek, placing a small kiss where the warm air of your breath hit.

He grows red at the seductive invitation, slightly growing somewhere else as well, unable to keep his head from reeling at the thought of what would be waiting for him tonight.

"Consider me intrigued" he smirks against your lips, taking the boxes from your hands and giving you a delicate kiss as he fills up the back of his truck with boxes.

You show him a clipboard with the names of the witches and their addresses "See, you've got Arla on Lombard, Clemensia on Castro, Athena and Arachne both on Third street and so on. They should be placed in order so you don't have to go back and forth around the city" you point at the purple colored page.

"Am I gonna get hit on by any of these ladies, 'cause if I am you gotta warn me- can't be too charming if they're trying to fuck me" he snickers, you hit him on the arm "ow," he moans.

"'Kay then" you take off your ring, the one with the sigil of Lilith that sits on your middle finger "give me your pinky, this will tell them that you're already spoken for"

You slip the ring on his pinky finger "Witchy if you wanted to propose to me this is a weird way to do it, y'know?" he laughs "Am I just cattle to you?" he moans dramatically as he gets in the car, rolling down his window.

"Cutest cattle I've ever seen" you scrunch your nose as you lean in the open window to give him a kiss "I'll see you tonight at mine?"

"You bet, and you can tell me more about that reward you were talking about" he smirks, puckering his lips for a kiss.

"I'll go home to sharpen my knives, then" you joke, biting your lip.

"Mmm, kinky" he caresses your forearm "See you tonight, gorgeous" he says, before driving off.

"Hello Ms. Arla, my name's Eddie I will be delivering your goodies for all your witchy needs today" he says, in his charming tone, as he watches the old lady reach into her pocket to give him a candy that seemed to be at least 50 years old. Grandmas are all the same after all.

"My god, Clemensia you look divine today" he flirts with a close friend of your aunt Hilda as she blushes and lightly smacks his arm. He offers her the box full of her deliveries "your witchy goodies m'lady" he bows and is not allowed to leave until he's had tea with her.

During his rounds he's offered treats, biscuits, readings of all kinds as he politely agrees, unable to say no to these nice ladies who all seem to know him by name.

His last delivery is someone named Aphra- he's never met her before, maybe a new addition to the 'witch community' as he calls it.

She ordered two boxes of stuff. He carries them up a steep flight of stairs and rings the doorbell.

Aphra isn't old, she isn't young- she looks ageless, and that, for some reason, scares Eddie.

"Lady- uh- Ms.- your witchiness- Aphra?" he stutters in a bout of embarrassment as he continues "my name's-"

"Edward. You're the young witch's human boyfriend" she hums "She got in a lot of trouble for allowing you to be a part of our world" He remembers you being deprived of your magic until your trial. Two months of seeing you mope around your apartment.

He wasn't sure what to say.

"Despite that you stuck by her, even through your bout of confusion. Let's call it you being... 'lost'" she snickers as she reaches into the pocket of her jacket, extracting a token made out of black metal.

"Bring this to your witch, as a token of my appreciation. Have a good evening, Edward" she brings the boxes inside with ease, and closes the door behind her.

He looks at the black token. Ridged with the sigil of the coven- three indented stars.

Eddie plays with it on the way to your house, rolling it on his leg, wondering what it might mean.

When he gets to your house, much to his dismay, he has to stop you from jumping on him. The curiosity is eating him alive. He shows you the black token, and all color seems to drain from your face.

"Holy shit" you utter "Holy shit!" a bit louder this time.

"Wha- what? What is it, witchy?" he asks, as you guide him on your purple couch. Your breath seems to be knocked from your lungs.

"Aphra is the head of the coven" you're playing with the indentations of the token, Eddie mentally cringes at the absolute shit first impression he made with what appears to be the madame president of all witches, or something like that.

"This token is her blessing" you have tears in your eyes, Eddie's still confused.

"Blessing for what?"

"Blessing to get married" you shrill, and Eddie's heart almost falls out of his ass.

[sorchathered]

Sweet Home Texas pt 1.

Summary- it’s here! Chapter one of my new series/ my submission for my birthday Rom-Com challenge! I am straying from the plot of Sweet Home Alabama a bit but I hope you all love it!

Pairing-Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin), Bradley Bradshaw x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin)

Warnings- language, drinking, eventual smut

Stepping out of her shitty rental car into the dimly lit honky tonk parking lot Ella Mccree can already feel the pain of a headache forming behind her eyes. She flew out from San Diego on a red eye to get to this shithole, filled with enough anger to fly the damn plane herself. She swore when she was here the last time that she would never set foot in this damn town again and yet here she is, pushing through the sweaty bodies of horn dog cowboys and navy pilots to find the bane of her existence.

He’s here of course, holding court by the pool tables, looking every bit the cocky asshole he presents himself to be. He’s always been a bit of a douche, that was part of his appeal; well until it wasn’t. She couldn't help the way her stomach flipped as she looked at him, the memories flooding her mind would make anyone blush. First kiss, first time, her first everything had been with Jake Seresin, he was supposed to be the only one, but that hadn’t worked out as planned. Nothing had where they were concerned.

She squared her shoulders, his pretty boy looks didn’t work on her anymore and she was here in this tacky bar for a reason, he wouldn’t distract her. In her ridiculously expensive pumps and form fitting black suit she marched over to him and dropped her briefcase in the middle of the pool table, a chorus of what the hells ringing out as she rounds on him, perfectly manicured finger poking him in the chest, shock clearly written all over his face before he schools his features. She’d caught him by surprise; good, maybe this time he’d actually listen.

“Jake! You stubborn redneck hick, I swear to God if I have to cut your damn hand off and sign these papers myself I will.” If he was phased by her colorful vocabulary he didn’t show it, simply throwing back the rest of his beer and sitting it on the corner of the nearest table as he looked her over, the mischief in his eyes evident in his gaze.

“Hey baby, it’s been a while. How’re things at home?” He said with a grin, knowing it would absolutely irritate the shit out of her, he loved riling her up, it was almost like he had a death wish sometimes but then again being an ex fighter pilot just confirmed that.

“Hey. Baby?! Are you kidding me right now?! Oooh!! You are the most annoying person on the planet!” She said shaking her head jerkily and balling her hands into fists, she needed to get it together. There was a reason to be here, get it done and get the hell out of this town, don’t let him distract you Ella you’re better than this.

Someone behind her said something to the extent of damn I like this girl and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a brunette woman sending impressed looks her way. Well at least someone was entertained, she thought.

She leaned across him to grab the papers from her briefcase, his body stiffening under her and she knew despite his cool exterior she had him rattled. She ran a hand across his uniform top, noticing the falter in his grin as he blinked at her and slammed the stack of papers into his chest.

“I have sent these damn papers through your lawyer 4 times in the past 6 months and they keep coming back unsigned, if you are so incompetent that you can’t use a pen, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to fly a jet, given your lack of a brain. Sign the damn papers Jake, it’s been 3 years. You very clearly aren’t interested in being a husband so why the hell won't you just divorce me?”

Everyone around them seems to go quiet at this, none of his coworkers even knew he had been in a serious relationship, let alone married.

He sticks a toothpick between his lips and pretends to mull over her words as she taps her heel on the sticky bar floor. She already knows what he’s going to say, the same bullshit line he’s given her their entire life. “You know damn well why Ella Bella, because I promised to love you til the day you die and as far as I can tell you’re still breathin’ so we’re still married.”

She rakes a hand through her wavy red hair and gives him a look that could burn the world down. “If I could go back knowing what I know now I’d have never made that damn promise. Stop holding me hostage and sign the damn papers, I’m not leaving town until you do.” She yanks up her bag and stomps out towards the exit, everyone in the group parting like the Red Sea to let her out. Meanwhile Jake still seems cool as a cucumber, completely unbothered as he lines up his next shot and chuckles as he watches her walk out of the bar.

“Uh you planning on giving us an explanation Hangman?” Natasha Trace is the first to speak up, she does enjoy seeing him brought down a peg from time to time but she’s pretty sure she’s seen him more upset over what was for lunch at the dining facility than he is right now.

“Oh that? Eh she’ll be alright, Ella is all bark and no bite. She knows how much I love her, just gotta remind her is all, she and I will be just fine when she comes to her senses.” He seems awfully sure of himself, but she’d noticed something he clearly didn’t. A big ass diamond ring on her ring finger, no wedding band in sight. She has a thought to say something but thinks better of it; let him crash and burn all on his own and maybe invite the girl out for lunch and some gossip if she can find out her number. Jake’s hometown is just a few miles out from the Kingsville Navy base they’re stationed at, maybe an old friend of his has her info, she files that away for tomorrow’s problems and grabs another drink.

Ella is heated, she clumsily fumbles her keys by her car door as she curses, she knew he wouldn’t go for it but damnit if she didn’t hope he’d come to his senses. They’d been split for almost three years?! What was keeping him from letting her go? Pride? Idiocy?! She didn’t have time for this, she had plans of her own and they didn’t include begging her delusional husband for a divorce for the millionth time.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket as she finally got the car unlocked and settled into the seat. She heaved a sigh out and put on her brightest smile, answering the face time call with fake enthusiasm.

“Well? How’d he take it?” the raspy voice on the other side of the line says, tan skin and bronze hair and those puppy dog eyes she loves so much gazes at her over the screen, and he can tell she’s pissed. “About as well as I thought. I’m gonna be here a few more days I reckon, maybe I can get one of them to get him to pull his head out of his ass, because it definitely didn’t work like I hoped.” She says the last words with a waver in her voice, she hates that she’s tearing up over this.

Bradley Bradshaw sighs over the screen and runs his hand over his face, he knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. “Need me to come down there? I can hop a flight? We can order a pizza and get trashed.”

As good as that sounds, his presence would only make it worse, and they both know it.

“No baby, it’s ok. I’ll see you soon alright? I just need to go to my hotel and sleep, I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe call Natasha and see if she can help me with some intel though? She seemed pretty interested in what was going on, and might be an ally.”

He knows Natasha Trace well, and she definitely would be very helpful if he asked, so he nods his head in agreement and ends the call with I love yous and promises of a back rub when she gets home.

He knows the bomb that’s going to go off as soon as Seresin finds out everything, but he also knows the real reason Jake won’t give Ella what she wants. It’s guilt plain and simple, and Bradley isn’t interested in watching his fiancée get hurt by his former rival anymore. Only Ella knows the whole truth, but are either men ready for it?

A/N- this is gonna be a doozy y’all, prepare for these three to be put through the ringer! Next week we’ll get some more on Jake and Ella’s backstory and why they fell apart, hope you enjoyed chapter one!

🏷️ tagging- @attapullman @seitmai @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @jessicab1991 @roosterforme @bradshawssugarbaby @mynameismckenziemae

[ghxstlike]

i love loving you

leon kennedy x reader content/warnings: petnames (baby), leon being awkward, leon antics, awkward flirting, teasing, cigarette mention, leon’s music taste, anxiety mention, nightmare mention. authors note: i am down bad for this man. he is rotting my brain and i am very okay with it. these are personal headcanons :)

leon's smile always starts out as a smirk. it's very cute.

always has a hand on you. around your shoulders, holding your hand, lightly gripping your thigh. he wants other people to know that you're taken- you're his.

he is a slightly possessive and jealous man. if someone is flirting with you, his eyes are narrowed at the person who is way too close to you, and his leg is bouncing with anxiety.

sooner or later, he saunters over to the two of you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

"hey, baby," he whispers in your ear, but it was loud enough for the person in front of you to hear. you shiver, slightly leaning into leon's embrace.

when you first met leon, you were immediately attracted to him. so, of course, you started to flirt with him.

though, he isn't dumb. he knew you were flirting with him (he was flirting back, after all). he teased you for it, obviously.

"are you flirting with me?" he says with a smirk. leon leaned down to get closer to your face, tilting his head.

people say that leon is a flirting machine and is good with women. no he is not.

i mean, yes, he does flirt a lot, but he is not good with women at all.

you found it very charming and cute when he asked you out. a huge smile was plastered on your face, staring at the nervous man in front of you.

“i- hm, i was just- fuck. i was wondering if you, i dunno,” he clears his throat. his face is slightly pink, but he thinks that his face is a deep red by how hot his body feels. “do you want to go get dinner with me sometime?” he manages to get out. he sighs out of relief- he did it. he feels a drop of sweat roll down his temple onto his cheek, shoving his clammy hands into his jean pockets.

of course, you said yes. i mean, who wouldn’t?

y’all aren’t gonna like this, but he definitely smokes cigarettes.

i mean c’mon, he was born in 1977. though, he didn’t willingly start smoking. his friends in high-school peer pressured him.

he tried to stop smoking before his first day at rpd, but it failed miserably. he felt antsy and he was more on edge- angry. he hated that he got easily frustrated with people. he’ll try again someday.

he smells like cigarette smoke and leather. occasionally he smells like coconut & patchouli (his cologne).

always has a stress toy with him. i like to think he wears a fidget ring on his middle finger or thumb. playing with a stress ball or twirling a pen makes him more focused and calm.

bites the inside of his cheek when he’s deep in thought. he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing it, it just happens.

his music taste is decent!

he doesn’t listen to the radio, thinks 2010 music is trash and it’s annoying.

it’s mostly a combination between 90s alt & grunge and early 2000’s rock. his favorite band is radiohead.

always gives eye contact. never looks away when you're talking, especially when you're talking about your long day at work or something you're passionate about.

as we all may know, he's bad at communicating his feelings. you can tell he's getting better with it, but it's still a challenge for him.

he never talks about raccoon city. you only found out about this from overhearing a conversation he had with claire. you brought it up one time, but he fell silent and never looked up at you. ever since then, you never talked about it with him.

mans suffers with frequent nightmares, so obviously he never sleeps. when he's with you though, he doesn't have any nightmares. so, he stays up until you're ready for bed.

when you're out late, he's waiting for you in bed.

leon loves to get his hair played with. he loves the feeling of your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

if you take meds, he always reminds you to take them. he also watches you take them, just in case.

leon always wants the best for you. he just loves you, so so much.

[iamnotceleste]

We were both young, when I first saw you

Series Masterlist: You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x YN Sage

Warning: None

A/N: HERE IS THE FIRST PIECE! let me know what you think.. And I know they are supposed to speak in Spanish as they're both spaniards. But English is my second language and I don't speak Spanish. But I'll add some google translated phrases here and there as it progresses.

"Can anyone tell me a country in the southern hemisphere?" Carlos looked up from his doodling of a kart as Senor Alcatraz asked. A tiny hand raised slowly. "Yes. YN, go ahead." "Australia" "That is correct. Thank you YN. As I was saying..." Senor Alcatraz's voice drones out as Carlos looks over at you.

You've just joined British Council School this year in 6th grade. And for these few months, Carlos has been observant. He doesn't think he's seen you without your nose in some book. That explains how you're getting top marks in all subjects. You're quite reserved. But not in an arrogant way. If your peers are struggling you are kind enough to help them out. That has made you popular among their year. Not to mention you are very cute too. The thought makes Carlos smile a little and he goes back to his doodling again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why is he holding his pen like that? How is that convenient?" You think to yourself as you watch the boy doodling away without listening to Senor Alcatraz. But he's holding his pen between his middle and ring finger! Did his parents not teach him how to hold a pen?

Oh you know who the boy is. How can you not when he's dad is a two time rally champion, Carlos Sainz Sr. The boy is his only son Carlos Sainz Jr. You've heard he's started driving in minikart too. That is very cool and all But seriously he should reconsider his pen holding ways, you think shaking your head and going back to Senor Alcatraz's lecture.

[mintkookiess]

Miles Morales headcannons #3

Miles as your annoying younger brother.

He steals a lot of your shit. Hoodies? Gone. Pens and markers? it's already inside his bag. Those rings you just bought? Already on his fingers. He doesn't tell you, he just grabs what he finds and you magically see it with him the next day.

The type of sibling that would scream out loud for no reason. You know when you're both just chilling on the couch watching TV, and he suddenly yells a "HOYAAA" this earns him a smack on the head from you

You both have a strong bond tho, so when he found out he was Spiderman, he just knew that he had to tell you first.

You wasted about 10 minutes cackling when he bought the Spiderman merch

"Who tf buys their own merch?" "Bro stfu"

You'd find sketches of your sleeping face on his notebooks, with the whole mouth open, drool down your chin look.

You may have burned that notebook without telling him

...he found out.

Whenever the two of you fought, mama rio comes to save the day by smacking the both of you in the heads and saying that the two of you can't come outside of your room until you make up

So really, what happens here is the two of you sit on your respective beds, arms crossed, eyes glaring at each other and you just have this silent competition to see who'd cave in first

He always did

Like after a few minutes of the glaring contest, his lips would start to quiver as he tries to hold himself back from laughing

You follow right after until you're both laughing your asses off

you vibe to every genre of music. Rap? You both fuck up the lyrics and just start babbling and spitting saliva everywhere gross. Kpop? The two of you end up memorizing the choreographies and would sometimes have a dance off (but it always ends with someone accidentally hitting the other). Classical? Please you two would play imaginary instruments, with fully exaggerated "posh" faces while twirling around yalls room like ballerinas

as kids, he's easy to get lost in huge places like the mall or the amusement park and you're left with the responsibility to find him

once you do find him tho u just follow him around secretly until he gives up and starts crying in the middle of the crowd

"What took you so long?!" "I'm so sorry Milesss I tried so hard to look for you."

Sometimes you'd distance yourself to pretend that he indeed got lost

u fucking demonic child

always the first to know about anything and everything about his life tho

he trusts you with it so ofc

you're the first person he introduces Gwanda to

you already know smth kinda stirring between them

u try to scare off Gwanda at all times, or try to make it awkward between you two

like this girl aint stealing ur lil bro away from u what?

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[violet-lazer]

First Kisses : Papal Edition - Secondo

Content / Warnings : Secondo/Reader, Mature (Language, Suggestiveness), Gender-Neutral Reader, 1.5k words. Thanks, please enjoy! (AO3)

Your first kiss with Secondo.

With a good amount of trepidation coursing through your veins, you lift your hand to the door of Secondo’s office and give two firm knocks, attempting to ignore the knot in your stomach as you await a response. After a moment or two, his voice rings sharp and clear through the wood-panelled door.

“Enter.”

You gather yourself and push open the door, taking a few short steps into the room. Secondo, seated at his desk, clearly in the middle of some paperwork, lifts his head to meet your gaze. Placing his pen down, he steeples his fingers and leans forward slightly as he addresses you.

“Ah. Welcome. Do you know why I have summoned you?”

“No, Papa,” you lie.

Even underneath his paint, you see him quirk an eyebrow. He hums, reaching into a drawer, retrieving his phone and placing it on the surface of the desk, screen facing you. He beckons you to come closer, and you reluctantly oblige. Reluctantly, because you know you’re facing your own oblivion in bright illuminated text. Since last night you’ve been living in desperate, foolish hope that what is currently happening might not happen. As you lean in close to assess the damage, a small, involuntary groan escapes you. You’re looking, as you knew you would be, at the message thread between you and Secondo on his personal, private number.

This was Terzo’s fault. You’ve been known to blame many of your personal problems on Terzo, but this one was indisputable. 

“Personally,” he’d said, leaning over to purr into your ear as the two of you watched Secondo conduct mass, “I think you should tell him.” 

From your latecomers’ vantage point at the back of the chapel, you’d torn your eyes from the altar, from Secondo, and looked at Terzo incredulously. Oh, here we go. Terzo is doling out romantic advice again. Perfect.

“I don’t want to do that,” you’d said. You don’t. You do. 

Terzo had rolled his eyes at this, and tutted condescendingly.

“Have it your way. I would advise doing something to halt your descent into madness, though. When I am battling my feelings-”

“What feelings?”

“When I am battling my feelings,” he continues, “Here is what I do. I draft a little paragraph on my phone. I go into excruciating detail about my wants and desires. Let it all out, you know. I imagine sending it to them. And then I delete it. It is almost as good as an honest conversation.”

“Right,” you’d said dismissively, fixing your attention on Secondo at the altar once again and ignoring your quickening heartbeat. What a silly idea.

And there you were just a few hours later, lying on your bed, phone aloft in front of your face, typing furiously in the text box below Secondo’s name. The content of the messages between the two of you before tonight had been consummately professional- indeed, he’d only furnished you with his number last week due to the number of errands you’d been volunteering to run for him of late. But what you were writing here was the absolute antithesis of professional. You’d paused to assess your work. Utter filth. A culmination of every idle thought, every active fantasy you’d had about the man in the months since you’d first laid eyes on him. 

You wonder how he’d respond if he could see this, if he only knew. Would it take him completely by surprise? You’ve been so, so well-behaved around him. It’s been nigh impossible for you to figure out how you’d even approach the idea of flirting with Secondo, and the embarrassment of being knocked back may just destroy you. So you’ve simply not bothered to try. But Lucifer, what you’ve thought. 

Satisfied, you’d pressed backspace, holding your finger down and watching your most depraved dreams disappear before your very eyes-

And then you’d dropped your phone on your face before you’d finished, hitting you square on the nose and making your eyes water. Scrambling to pick it up, you’d turned it over to see something that made your heart drop out of your arse. You hadn’t finished deleting. And you’d pressed send. Possibly with your nose, which was impressive.

Immediately, without even registering how much of your message had made it to Secondo, you’d done the only logical thing and turned your phone off in a panic. When in doubt, deny. Perfect strategy. Hey, maybe you’d even get away with it.

As you look at Secondo’s screen, it becomes apparent you haven’t gotten away with it. Until about twenty seconds ago you’d been clinging onto a vague hope that the letter of summoning that had been pushed under your door this morning was concerning…literally anything else. Alas. Your crime is staring you in the face.

More specifically, what is staring you in the face is your own words. You suppose it could have been a lot worse, really. Most of the evidence was gone, and what remained-

Papa, I need to tell you how much I want you to p

“When I gave you my number,” Secondo says, dragging your attention away from the screen and back to his stare, “it was for business, not pleasure.”

“I know, Papa. I’m sorry.” 

Even if you could play it off as the start of a message that wasn’t about what you wanted Secondo to do to you, you absolutely can’t excuse the fact that you’d sent it at half past eleven at night. Absolutely inappropriate for a work-related enquiry.

Secondo barely acknowledges your apology, merely continuing to hold your gaze. You fall into an uncomfortable silence.

You reckon you could make a clean exit if you vaulted out of the window. Enthusiastic sprint, hand on the windowsill, over and out. Secondo’s office is only on the second floor, you’d probably be alright. It would be preferable to this.

After what feels like an eternity, Secondo speaks again.

“Well?”

“...Well?” you repeat slowly, somewhat at a loss.

He leans back slightly in his chair, exuding nothing but sheer, relaxed confidence.

“Well? Does that sentence have an ending?”

It does. It has a very creative ending. Is he…asking to hear it? The thought simultaneously thrills you and terrifies you. There’s not a chance you can repeat what you wrote so unashamedly last night, not to his face. Not when he’s looking at you like that.

You nod. It feels less committal. Secondo tilts his head just a fraction.

“It seemed very important. If you want something, you should be direct about it. Here, I will go first. I want you to tell me the ending to your sentence. And I want you to be honest.”

Ah, fuck. At present, you don’t think you have the capacity to lie. All you can think about is…

“It said,” you begin before you can help it, “I need to tell you how much…I want you to push me against a wall and kiss me.”

You’ve done it now. There’s a wave of adrenaline crashing over you, a mix of nerves and sheer exhilaration, and your hands are trembling. You realise you’re holding your breath. Secondo’s response causes you to exhale sharply. 

“And is that a sentiment you stand by this morning?”

“Yes.” 

“Close the door.”

Without thinking, you obey, turning to retrace your steps. As you approach the door you hear the scrape of Secondo’s chair on the floor; when you push on the heavy wood you count footsteps behind you. The door shuts. You turn. Secondo is right behind you, and still he barely slows his pace as he closes the last remaining distance between you. You let him back you up against the door, and in an instant his mouth is on yours. Secondo kisses you fiercely, tongue pushing into your mouth, his body pressed hard against you. You kiss him just as relentlessly, sinking back against the door, desperate to feel Secondo’s weight pinning you where you stand. Gloved hands find your hips.

Eventually, you part, breathless. Secondo’s eyes are ablaze as he looks down upon you, and it might be the delirium talking but you could swear he has the faintest suggestion of a smile playing across his lips. He leans in, giving you one gentle, final kiss. Then, he shifts, taking a step backwards and releasing his hold on you. You miss the pressure. 

“I would say it is worth being direct, hm?” he says. “Next time I expect you to be more forthright.”

“Next time?” you say, still bracing yourself against the door. There’s a chance your legs might still give out. Secondo hums.

“I will permit you to contact me outside business hours,” he says. “As long as you are confident in your desires. As long as you are…explicit.”

He reaches past you to grasp the doorknob, waiting patiently for you to peel yourself off the door before easing it open. Politely, he gestures to the corridor beyond.

“You are dismissed.”

You nod shakily. The past ten minutes have been something of an adventure. As you cross the threshold of Secondo’s office, you hear his voice, soft, behind you.

“I look forward to your next message.”

So do you. As you make your way back to your room, you pull out your phone and finally turn it back on. You’ll show him just how explicit you can be.

[geminil0vr]

french navy | peter parker

i wanted to control it, but love, i couldn't hold it.

SUMMARY | Finding themselves forced to share an apartment for their first year at MIT due to an error in the listing, Peter and his relentless new roommate forge an unlikely partnership.

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't this.

He's hunched over a black suitcase right in the centre of the living room, throwing items astray, looking for something. She can tell just by a peek over his shoulder that he didn't pack with anything but survival in mind: his toothbrush is nestled between two crumpled t-shirts. She's standing in the doorway, brows knitted, eyes inching away from him every now and then to check the number on the door. This can't be right.

She'd gotten lucky when she discovered that her college had set up a program to organise struggling new students into (barely) furnished apartments together. But while she'd love to take a moment to appreciate the space, the sofa set in the centre of the cramped but homey flat, the wall boarding the living room from the little kitchen and its counters with coffee rings burnt into the laminate, even the painting left askew on the wall by the inhabitants before her; the boy right in the middle of it is proving a distraction.

Even with the door flung wide open like the few others down the hall, she opts to rap her knuckles against it. His grip tightens on a half-empty shampoo bottle, turning in surprise. After a moment, he goes to speak, but then holds his breath; tilts his head.

"I don't think..."

"Have you got the right room?"

"As I previously mentioned, there's really nothing we can do for you here at MIT. Unfortunately, there was a mix-up with Mr. Parker's name," Peter's roommate stifles a smile by pressing her fingers into her lips, "And we've already assigned you two to the same room: legally, contractually, however you'd like to call it. Every other student in this program is already in a pair or, for respective reasons, on their own. You two are just going to have to grin and bear it, I'm afraid."

She inhales, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, and Peter shuffles in his seat. The vice-principal leans forward, elbows pressing into the polished wood; he looks like he's been pulled straight out of a magazine, every short coil of his hair finger-spun, hands folded and pleading just a few inches above his desk.

"Look, you two," They glance at each other, "I know this isn't how you expected the move-in to go, but as far as I'm concerned, you have the most spacious apartment out of any of the other students, as well as two separate bedrooms, decent rent... God, the last people who stayed there even left you that little TV set. You got lucky," Peter couldn't be more tired of that word if he tried.

"Even if this isn't the gender-sorted accommodation you'd hoped for, I am certain that you can learn to live with each other." He smiles in that way that lets them know the conversation is over, and a tense beat of silence permeates the room before the new students lift reluctantly from their seats.

"Thank you, Sir," Her new roommate flattens his lips together with a weak attempt at a smile. She chews at her tongue. The man grins like a politician, a great-white, teeth bright and gleaming.

So, they've pushed back the furniture (spare as it is) and are sat cross-legged in the middle of the carpet, beige fibres scratching at their skin. It's far too hot for the start of September. Yet as the evening sets in on them, the windows, littered with fingerprints, begin to let in a gentle flow of air. She rolls back her shoulders, feeling the joints click, and twiddles a pen between her fingers.

"Okay. If we're doing this, we're gonna need some ground rules."

Peter nods fervently, voice cracking with uncertainty, "Yeah, of course."

"Alright! One. I get to pick my room first..."

His arms uncross from over his chest, "Wait, how is that fair?"

"I thought it was ladies first," She lifts her eyes.

"Yeah, on airplanes."

She frowns, "No, that's not... okay, whatever. Apparently chivalry is dead," He frowns back, and she scribbles out Rule One in her notepad, "So we'll toss a quarter."

She's back at half past 8, shoulders heavy. Without replying, she lets the door swing shut behind her, drops her bag right in the middle of the walkway and slumps down onto the side of the couch. She buries her head into her hands to muffle a scream.

Peter straightens anxiously from his place at the kitchen counter, "Uh, hey... are you okay?"

"Customer service is going to kill me. I am going to die, and it is going to be at the hands of customer service," She drops her head back into the cushions, "And no one even cares."

"Oh, God, I thought something was wrong," His shoulders relax briefly, "You scared me."

She drops her hands to the couch, head tilting lazily to her roommate of 6 days, lamenting, "This is my swan song, roomie. This is serious."

His brows raise, and he rolls his lips into his mouth, voice pitchy, "Yeah, no, I know that, I understand," He anticipates anger, but she hasn't got it in her after an 8 hour shift. Instead, she moves to lean her head against the armrest, staring at the TV with an almost childish level of desperation.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?" He wavers cautiously, eyeing the back of her head. Such an uptick of emotion isn't his forte, and certainly not with the roommate he's only just getting used to.

Her lips blow out, eyes closing. She speaks quietly. "Do you know how to put on Hell's Kitchen?"

His eyelids flutter, "We don't..." He clears his throat, "We can't do Hell's Kitchen on there. It's like three thousand years old."

"Just find a way."

They've gone two weeks without any real problem. Minus the toothbrush, and the chore sheet, and the recycling. I mean, something was destined to happen half a month into their roommateship, some earth-shattering discovery bound to be made: Peter can't be trusted in the kitchen.

"How did you... Peter, how did you even manage that?"

They both stare dumbstruck at the charred remains of two chicken breasts, sat right in the middle of their brand new frying pan. By some miracle, the fire alarm has finally stopped blaring. She carefully leans over to click the stovetop off.

"I feel like I gave you one job."

"You did, yeah." His voice is breathy, tongue pushing against his cheek.

"Just to cook the chicken. Like, just keep an eye on it. Flip it."

"Yeah."

"And... how..."

"I don't know."

"I don't think this is gonna work," She sighs, hand flat on her forehead, the other at her hip, "We need to redo the chore sheet."

His expression grows desperate. They engage in a staring match, and Peter's always had a knack for knowing when he's lost a fight (apart from that one time, and the other few).

After a few moments, her eyes catch the stove again, "Oh, the pan is fucked."

"I'm sorry."

"I feel like I'm on The Bear right now, and you're the guy doing meth in the back alley."

He pauses, "When did that happen?"

"Oh my God," She gasps, turning, "I'm not surprised you can't cook for shit. You haven't even watched season two."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Put the pan in the sink," She taps on her phone, engrossed, "Hey, we have apple cider vinegar, right?" He blinks, and she breathes out with a huff. She begins to inch around the corner, but turns back, "And you're buying takeout. You know how much chicken costs these days?"

"Did you use my conditioner?"

"No, did you?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

Peter is stood in the doorway of the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a loose tee, hair dripping onto the carpet.

"You're getting the carpet wet." She points downwards.

"Why would you use my conditioner?" He sounds almost heartbroken, or bewildered, or both.

"I'm sorry, okay! I didn't have anything to shave my legs with," He closes his eyes, composing himself. When he gains some sort of balance, he reopens them and looks once more to his roommate of 4 weeks, standing like a deer in headlights by the TV. She'd been adjusting the antenna before he burst in.

"I'll fix the TV if you buy your own conditioner. Deal?"

"Deal."

6 weeks, and she's bursting through the front door, "Petra!"

"I told you to stop calling me that," He calls from his room, the wall of privacy soon shattered when she pushes open the door, jumping up and down.

She's breathing like she's in cardiac arrest, and for a moment he really thinks she's about to collapse, which would be an awful affliction for him considering it's her night to do the dishes, and he's grown rather fond of her. She's invading every inch of his space, cramped with furniture and cluttered with papers (letting out little noises incessantly) and he finds he doesn't mind it much. Her energy is boundless. As is her use of the name MIT gave him; the one that got them stuck here in the first place.

"I'm doing my paper."

"I didn't have anyone else to tell," She bounces right into his spinning desk chair, facing him where he's horizontal on his bed (laptop burning into his thighs) with her legs kicking.

"What is it — that old gift card of yours finally got stuck and now you're getting free coffee for life?"

"That's an unfortunate no," She pauses, "Do you think someone can do that for me, though?"

"Dude."

"Whatever: I got asked out by someone in my class. I don't know what to wear. Should I look smart?"

"Oh." He nods, confused. "Uh, maybe?"

"Why aren't you as excited as me?"

"I mean... is it that out of the ordinary?"

"I don't get dates, Peter. Apart from that one time in junior high at the carnival, and they came up to me, and they were like 'hey', and I was like 'what's up', and then they asked for my number."

"Romance is alive and well, then," He gives her his best attempt at a smile.

She hops up, still buzzing with energy and nearing the door, one hand on the frame of it. "But not chivalry. I can't believe you made me take the bad room."

"What do you mean? Your room is the biggest one," She rolls her eyes, "And we tossed a coin."

"But do I have any of this beautiful, natural light? I don't think so!"

A day later, she's stuffing toast into her mouth at the counter, hair messy and eyes heavy with sleep. The weather's been getting colder lately, and the floor chills through her socks. He sits across from her, elbows against the laminate as he shovels down cereal, "God, Peter, that sun is blinding in the morning. Holy shit."

"Fucking... piece of crap."

Peter creaks open the door, eyes tired and a touch bloodshot. He'd been working late on another Biochem paper when he heard her swearing to herself, trying to get the keys in.

"Jesus, are you okay?"

She looks up at him from where she's crouched, stumbling slightly with her key in her hand. She stands, "Oh God, did I wake you up?"

"No, I..." He watches as she moves past him and into their apartment, throwing her keys onto the sofa and sniffing, "Did you... how was your date?"

When she turns to look at him, he can finally see how drunk she is, hair pinned up, only a few tendrils cascading down the neckline of her nicest dress. As she shrugs off her jacket, he finds that her eyes are bloodshot, too. "Oh, yeah." She smiles bitterly, but it's weak.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, Peter. Thanks for the... for opening the door. Just go back to sleep."

He frowns, shaking his head, "I wasn't sleeping. What's wrong?"

She laughs thickly, tilting up her head: this was the very last thing she wanted. She swallows and eyes the ceiling, "They stood me up. So I had a nice few drinks for one," For emphasis, she sticks out her index finger.

His lips turn down, eyebrows rising. "A few?"

She licks at her lips and finally looks back at him, "A couple, yeah."

She sucks at her teeth as he stands, unsure what to do, "Maybe... just stay there, I'll get you some... water."

Her nostrils flare and she flops down onto the sofa. She just wanted to go to her room and pray that her mattress swallowed her whole, but instead she hears the tap, and the footsteps of her roommate of 7 weeks plodding towards her in fuzzy slippers she would make fun of if she could gather the energy. She takes the cold glass and he watches carefully as she downs half of it, setting it onto the coffee table.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be; wasn't your fault, Parker. Unless they're in your bedroom. Then tell 'em I said go ���"

His mind is frantic, searching for something to stop her face from crumpling; she wakes the next morning, blanket-covered on the sofa with a pounding head, her phone out of charge and his propped up against an empty glass, still playing an episode of Hell's Kitchen. From here, she can see him through a crack in the door, curled up in his desk chair. He's drafting an email to his Biochem professor pleading for an extended deadline on the paper. They never talk about it, but she stops using his conditioner; starts making every dinner for two.

"Get your ass out here, Parker! Halloween is slipping through our fingers!"

"I feel stupid."

"You are stupid, but that doesn't change anything," He emerges from his room in a half-assed, Craigslist Batman costume. She claps a hand over her mouth.

"Stop laughing! I'm only gonna wear the mask."

"I'm not laughing," She laughs, "You look like a real superhero."

He blanches, "No, I don't."

She grins, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, "No, you don't."

They're tipsy at the MIT Halloween bash, surrounded by classmates and for whatever reason, sticking to eachother. Two months into the school year they've found their stride, making a few friends here and there and finally having something to talk about over their occasional shared dinners; a new rival or group project. But in the heat of the crowd, they just seem to pull back. Moving and hoping as if underwater.

They blink away the blur of the strobe lights, "Petra?"

"What?"

"I feel like it's either get drunker or go home."

"Should we toss a coin?"

"Oh, fool me once, Parker."

"You got the room you wanted in the end, didn't you?"

She hums, avoiding his eyes.

'You have to be kidding me."

Soon, they're drunk out of their minds and pushing furniture from one room to the other. It's 3 am, and their neighbours want them dead. She groans, giving up on his chest of drawers and rolling onto the floor.

"You are not pulling your weight, here."

"Eat shit."

He slumps down, legs splayed out on the carpet of the cluttered living room.

"Where's my bed?"

"Your room. No. My room." Her head lolls to look at him.

"Our room?" He opts.

"We should get bunk beds."

He leans back against his bedside table, thinking, "Don't laugh."

"What? Why?" She grins lazily, pulling herself up with her hands behind her. He grins back.

"I have a bunk bed, back home."

"Now it makes sense." She leans forward.

"What makes sense?" His brows furrow, still smiling.

"Why you're a virgin loser."

"Maurisz is coming in 5. I could cancel right now."

"No, Petra, please, I need this food more than I need to pass the semester."

"Oh, wow, you really need that," He nods with false sympathy, slowly lifting the phone over his head. She watches frantically as the little illustration of the courier gets closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He doesn't cede, "You get girls, you're a playboy!"

"Playboy?" Here, she cries out, and begins to wrestle for it.

"You have... you have notches on your bedpost, please! I'll do the dishes forever!"

He yelps and they're a tangle of limbs, bitch-slapping eachother and giggling like idiots, both losers within their own tug of war and rolling away in order to surrender.

For a moment, they take a breath, snickers growing few and far between. He eyes her with another laugh, tilting his head in an attempt to capture her in the blur of his vision, "You really think so?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Just don't be weird."

"Why would I be weird? Do you think I'm weird?"

"Ned, just..."

"Hi, guys!" She comes beaming around the corner, speaking with her mouth full until Peter gives her a look. She swallows, "Hello. You must be Ned!"

Ned smiles wide, mouth open and looking from Peter to her for a moment too long. Peter's head drops. "Yes, I am."

"I've heard great things. I made cookies! They're really dry, too much flour, but if you sandwich them with Nutella it works, I swear."

Ned's grin grows impossibly larger, "You're a genius."

A couple hours later, and, "See, this is why I didn't want you guys to meet."

"We're just playing Mario Kart!"

"Yeah, on your phones, without me."

"You always crash!" Her and Ned exclaim at the same time, exchange the look of two soulmates who've finally found eachother. Peter appreciates his roommate of 2 and a half months, but cannot wait for her to leave for her shift.

"I can't believe you'd gatekeep the second most wonderful person in your life from me like this." She says, proceeded by a string of hushed curses when she falls back into fourth place.

Ned turns with wide eyes, controlling his car from his peripheral, "Second?"

She doesn't look up, "Always have to look out for number 1, babe."

He pauses, looks up, nods. "You're so right."

"Don't make this Craigslist Batman Costume all over again. I'm not waiting another twenty minutes."

"I'm not! I can't get my tie right," His voice cracks.

"Let me in."

"Just... wait."

"Open the door, you big dummy." She's found the courtesy not to barge in after multiple embarrassing incidents that she's still struggling to shake out of her head. Seeing your roommate in only his boxers isn't weird. Thinking about it isn't weird. You're weird.

He groans in exasperation and finally just swings it open, clad in a rented suit, his blazer strewn across the bed.

"Very fancy."

"Stop making fun of me."

"I'm not!" She grins, "You look fancy! All for your smart people dinner."

"It's not a smart people dinner."

"Oh, yeah — what is it, then? Enlighten me."

"It's a..." She puffs out an exhale, "Dinner for excelling students in order for them to discuss their interests as well as... get connected with specific people."

"So..."

"It's a smart people dinner."

In the midst of all this, she's already snatched his black tie and wrestled it out of a knot.

"Come here, Petra."

"Peter."

"Or should I say, Mr. Parker? Sir Lord Parker?"

"Actually, you can stick with Petra."

"May I please do your tie, Sir, because you can't do it to save your life, Sir?"

He's fighting a smile at her attempt at a British accent, and simply turns around and towards the mirror. She's standing behind him, and wraps it underneath his collar, efficiently tying and tightening it to her liking as she glances back and forth from the mirror to over his shoulder. She pauses with a frown until she identifies the problem, going to unbutton the very top of his shirt, wholly unprepared for how her knuckles brushing against his collarbone would make each hair on the back of her neck rise.

"You looked uptight. That's better," She inhales shakily, unsure of where this feeling started or where it ends; she'd rather not find out. She clears her throat and they lock gazes in the mirror. His shoulders unwind. They both take a breath, and smile.

"Oh... thanks. Thank you."

"No problem, Batman." He smiles despite himself, turning to face her. She pats his tie. "You're gonna kill it. Make 'em wanna go home, quit their degree and move into the basement of their mom's house. Or aunt's. My bad."

"Shut up."

She's humming along to Camera Obscura the same night when she hears a laugh that isn't Peter's, and the clink of his keys in the door. She holds her breath to hear better, listens to hushed whispers and finally his bedroom door clicking shut. The next morning she's skipping her first class and reading one of Peter's books, avoiding him until his new friend leaves, and until he's out the door too.

It has been three days, closing in on the start of December, and she's cursing herself out when she hears the front door creak open. She's successfully stayed out of his way this far, for a reason she can't quite place: maybe it's that she didn't want to look him in the eye, wanted to leave the discomfort and the misplaced anger be, to stale at the bottom of the pit she'd dug for herself the second she thought she could play pretend. And she could've sworn she'd had his schedule down pat, but he's home far too early and she can't leave his leftovers for dinner in the fridge anymore.

He's just as surprised to see her. He doesn't understand why it feels like something has shifted.

"Oh, hi." He's standing in the entryway of the kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder and she's chewing at her lip.

"Hey, Parker!" She smiles, but it's more of a grimace, and she clears her throat, looking into the pan of broccoli she's steaming. "I'm making dinner."

"Yeah, uh, thank you." He swallows, putting his bag on the counter, staring at her like the moment he doesn't she's going to disappear. That's how it's been, these past few days. He takes a bottle of water from the fridge. For once, she isn't speaking, just silently cooking, and he can't help himself, "Are you okay?"

She stills for a beat, then continues stirring the food, back turned to him. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"No, it's just... I don't know. I haven't seen you in a while."

Guilt knaws at her. She glances at him briefly over her shoulder, "Sorry, Peter. Been busy."

"No, it's... it's okay." He chews at his cheek, taking another sip of water, "Did you, uh, wanna watch The Bear tonight?"

She whips around to face him. "You what?"

He rolls his lips into his mouth, "Did you..." he starts.

"Yes." She grins, looking straight at him for the first time in what feels like forever as she hastily stirs, and the knot in his stomach eases away.

They don't talk about it, but that night, watching him sing along with Ritchie to Taylor Swift with only the light of the TV shadowing his features, she knows. Knows there's something inescapable about this; she couldn't hold a grudge against him if she tried.

"I can't believe you got laid, Pete."

He chokes on his ice cream. Composes himself, ears beet red. "What are you... what are you talking about?" His voice is breaking.

She looks at him, knowingly. "Come on. You even broke the no being loud after 11 pm rule. I can't believe you, you dog."

He's burying his face in his hands. She snickers as he folds deeper into the sofa, his apology muffled against his skin.

"Oh don't be," She grins, eyeing him and ready to strike, "I'm just so proud of you for finally losing your V-card."

"Shut up!"

"It's a really important time in a woman's life."

He squeezes his eyes shut, hands going to his forehead, voice turning quiet, "I'm not a virgin."

"Not anymore you're not."

"I hate you so much."

"A little to the left. Wait, no, up. Right there. Beautiful."

"Why are you making me decorate the tree when you're the one who wanted it in the first place?" When he successfully places the golden bauble, he steps back to look at their pathetic, last-minute version of a Christmas tree. It's lopsided, plastic, and discounted due to a few missing faux-pine needles.

"You deserve to do all the hard work, considering you're the one abandoning me to go spend Christmas in New York with your hot aunt."

"Stop calling her hot. And I'm not abandoning you. You have me the morning of Christmas Eve!"

"How is Santa gonna find you if you keep leaving all the time?"

He gives her a look and she cedes, with a small smile playing at her lips. He hangs a red ornament this time, and she hums in appreciation. He stretches his arms overhead, and she ignores the strip of skin that exposes itself, instead lifting his mug of hot cocoa from the coffee table and taking a sip. He'd been expecting her to steal it, though he thought making them one each would sate her at least a little bit.

"Hey."

"Yeah, Petra?"

"Are you... Gonna be okay, you know, on your own?"

Her eyes rise to meet his, and she clears her throat, "Yeah, Pete. Of course. I mean, you know they pay twice as much just to work on Christmas, so... it'll be worth it."

He frowns, covers it up, "Yeah."

"And plus, I get to play Christmas music at full blast no matter what time it is when you're gone. I'm living the dream life." She smiles teasingly, tilts her head, tries and fails to reassure him.

"I'll be back the day after Boxing Day, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, Parker. Bring back a nice little polaroid of Aunt May for me, won't you?"

"Absolutely not."

When Peter leaves for the airport on Christmas Eve, she gets loneliner than she'd like to admit. She glares at the space under the tree, stands in the doorway of Peter's room, moves all of his furniture an inch away from the wall so he gets freaked out when he comes home, moves it back again because she feels bad, watches a vine compilation, wallows on the couch. If she can't survive 16 minutes, she has no idea how she'll survive the next two days. She nearly has a heart attack when she hears the keys in the door. Peter rushes through, entirely out of breath, suitcase rolling to a stop beside him.

"Do you wanna come with me?"

She looks back at him, wide eyes to wild ones, "What?"

"Do you wanna come with me?"

A moment passes. Then, "I'll call work."

At the bus station, they put savings together to buy the cheapest and sketchiest last-minute seats they can find. Peter spends an hour and a half on the phone trying to get a refund for his plane ticket, and they spend most of the coach ride getting their seats pummelled in by two 5 year olds. When things begin to quiet down, she falls asleep, head dropping onto his shoulder and hair tickling the nape of his neck. He doesn't say it, but he's glad he asked.

Looking back, he probably should've told May. In the rush of it all, getting the taxi to turn back, he wasn't really thinking straight. But, although at first she's mildly irritated and overwhelmed, his roommate seems to charm it out of her. When she's off, having insisted to wash the few dishes in the sink, May leans into him.

"I like her, Petey."

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I know, May."

"You didn't tell me she was so pretty."

His ears are turning red, voice rasping, "I didn't think of it, I guess."

"You're telling me you haven't thought about it? At all?" She grins like a cheshire cat; but she only wants what's best for him. Always has.

"No, May, God!" He's lying. This only rubs it in, brings every smothered feeling back to the surface. It wasn't his intention: he just didn't want her to be alone.

She reenters, wiping her hands against a dish towel, hair mussed and slightly static from resting her head on the fibres of his sweater on the ride over, and May jumps up.

"Thank you so much," May places both hands on her shoulders, and proceeds to pull her into a hug. Her eyes widen, but after a second she lets out an airy laugh, wrapping her arms around May's frame. "You're an angel."

Peter locks eyes with her, heart pulsing in his chest, and they smile softly at eachother like a well-kept secret.

"Aw, is this you and Ned?" She's grabbing everything she can, trying to get a real sense of Peter, Peter as a preteen, Peter as he was then, Peter as he is now; she finds it in his packaged figurines, the clutter on his old desk, the pictures pinned to the wall. It's all exactly as he left it.

"Yes, yes it is." His brows curve upwards in exasperation; she nearly took his most prized action figure out of its packaging. He's fighting for his life, here. When she sees how nervous he looks, she sighs, finishes up her snooping for the evening and opting to clumsily make her way up the ladder, flopping on her back on the top bunk and stretching her legs out like a satisfied cat.

"Your aunt's really nice."

He tilts his head up as if he can see her from where he's lying, head propped up on the frame of the bottom bunk, and quits fiddling with his old Gameboy, "Yeah. She is."

"And she likes me more than you. That's a plus," She's staring at the ceiling, hands laced across her stomach.

"I don't blame her," His eyes crease in the corners, thinking of Ned's visit over a month ago now, but he regrets the words as soon as they leave him. If she's taken aback she doesn't show it, but she turns her head and begins to trail her eyes over the movie posters taped haphazardly to the wall. A silence passes between them, amplified in the late evening.

"Why did you invite me here?" She says, softly.

He blinks, lips pursing slightly, "I don't know. I think... I think, I just didn't want you to be alone. And it's nice to have you here."

"I would've been okay, you know." There's something desperate in the way she says this, like she can make the both of them believe it.

"I know."

Her gaze drops down to their suitcases, leaning against each other on the rug. "But... I'm happy I'm here." This is the most that she'll admit, tonight.

"... I know," He pauses again, "I'm happy you're here too."

She chews her lip at the quiet rasp in his voice, smooths her hands over his Star Wars covers, twitches her nose.

"Enough of this sappy stuff. You're destroying my reputation."

"Your reputation? As what?" He smiles. A feeling settles between them like the snow outside.

"As a cool, unfeeling person. You know: playboy, notches on my bedpost."

"Would you just go to sleep?"

"Not until you tell me how you managed to bag the smartest girl at your high school with these sheets."

"Oh, that's simple."

She abruptly swings her head over the side of the bed, looking down at him and raising her brows, "Oh, yeah?"

He meets her eyes and shrugs. "Well... we went to her house."

She gasps, "Peter Parker, you animal!"

"To do homework!" He exclaims, eyes widening as he sits up, "Not..."

"Not any rule-two-breaking, single bed shenanigans?"

"Please don't bring that up again."

"Did they find it hot that you both enjoy Physics?"

"Stop," He lies down again, clasping his hands over his ears.

"I mean, they must have: you two were going at it so hard I couldn't even send in my assignment." This was an exaggeration.

He frowns, red, "Didn't you have, like, three weeks to do it?"

"Mind your business," She lies back down too, "I don't wanna talk about this anymore."

They smile to themselves. They whisper goodnight, but he can't fall asleep.

"Dude, Santa came so hard."

"Please don't say it like that."

They're on the coach back and she's fiddling through her bag, fingers sifting over the boxes of chocolates and pastries May packaged up for her, just so she'd have something to open on the day.

"I love your aunt. I wish she would adopt me too."

"Hate to break it to you, but you're gonna have to go through some really messed up stuff before you unlock that option."

She turns her head to him against the seat, giddy and grinning, "Well, teach me your ways, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"You know that's not the quote."

They're getting through the door the night after Boxing Day, feeling heavy from grabbing fast food before getting home, and an afternoon of travelling. When she's slipping off her shoes and rolling her shabby suitcase through the door to her bedroom, Peter stops her.

"Hey, uh..." She turns, one palm wrapped around the handle of it, the other pressed against her doorframe, "I actually did get you something."

Her lips curve upwards at the edges, brows lifting, "For Christmas?"

"Yeah." He looks like he's about to take something out of his pocket, when she rushes into her room, slamming the door behind her. He's about to question whether he's being rejected when it's flung open again, and this time, she's holding something poorly wrapped in both hands. She's out of breath.

"Me too. But I forgot to bring it with me. I was just gonna leave it under the tree."

He bites at the inside of his cheek so he doesn't break out into an ear-splitting grin. They fumble awkwardly with their gifts, handing them over.

"You first, Parker." He hesitates before sinking his finger into the gap in the wrapping paper, listening to the clink of light metal as bright-coloured keychains spill out onto his palm, and he catches them before they can fall. "Sorry, it isn't much, it's just... you said you never had many keychains or badges and stuff as a kid." He stares in awe at the little Tardis in his hand, the Yoda, the Lego memorabilia, everything he's ever ranted about or forced her to watch. His eyes lift to hers.

"No, I..." He clears his throat, wraught with unexpected emotion, "I love it. Thank you." She shrugs with a bashful smile, caught in the act of caring, and looks down at her own instead of facing the tenderness between them. "Mine is... it's nothing, really."

"Oh, quiet, you." She's never been one to gingerly unwrap gifts. If she could tear them apart with her teeth, she would, but this time, it feels delicate. The space between them is made out of something fragile. So she takes her time, slides her finger under the tape and true to style, lets the wrapping paper fall to the ground when she gets too impatient.

"No, you didn't. No, you did not." Her jaw goes slack, looking from it and back up to Peter, down, up again. He smiles bashfully. "Is it hacked?"

"You can't hack a gift card."

"You know what I mean!"

"Yeah, I mean, Ned and I tried..." She jumps, wrapping her arms around him in a bear hug and squealing.

"Free coffee until I get caught!" She pulls away with a toothy grin, staring down at the card again.

He clears his throat and can't help but smile too, "Free coffee until you get caught."

White dress. Maya wanted all her bridesmaids to move as one, an organism of pinned-back hair and delicate black shoes. It was unorthodox, as much as the institution of marriage could be, but her cousin didn't mind; she was too busy trying not to be late.

Picking up her sneakers by their heels, she jams them into the tiny gap of space left in the boiler closet by the door. "Peter!"

He's hurrying out, slipping on the blazer he found last minute at the thrift store, a little too cuffed at the wrists. "Remind me why I'm coming again?"

"You invited me to your thing. It's only fair." She shrugs on her jacket to brave the cold outside, stuffing the apartment's keys in her pocket and tapping her heel against the floorboards.

"And?" He eases through the flat, voice moving from room to room, hands gripping doorways as he flicks off every light his roommate typically leaves on, halting at her bedroom and disappearing inside to switch off a lamp.

"And I hate weddings, dude! Hurry it up!" She whines, pressing her forehead against the smoothest section of the peeling wallpaper.

He peeks his head out, clicking the last one off and finally moving to meet her, one curl out of place and falling over his forehead in the exertion it took just to be ready on time, "You've never even been to one."

"I thought I'd manage my whole life without it."

"Not even your own?"

"Peter," She eyes him like he's the one barely handing in papers on time, "Let's be serious. Now, come on. This thing is gonna be a funeral if I don't get Maya her something borrowed."

"Something borrowed?" They step out and he helps hold the door closed tight so she can twist the key, get the lock to truly slip through. She turns to face him, checks her phone and gives an impartial grunt. They'd be fine. She finally registers his words, and dips back into her pocket, coming out with a rusted hair-pin and holding it up for him to see. It isn't real gold, but it looks well-loved, well-worn.

"It's her mom's. Snuck it back in the day, nearly forgot I had it," She smiles weakly, shrugging.

"It's pretty," He nods, watching as she puts it back, "She'll like it."

"You think so?" It's rare when she looks vulnerable, and it takes him off guard, a small opening where her eyes clear up, her face sincere, unguarded. She hardly notices as she walks ahead of him for the elevator, and he follows behind.

"Yeah."

They manoeuvre through bodies, what should've been a smaller gathering amassing easily to just under a hundred: family, friends, plus-twos. He's greeted with fervour by everyone that loves her. She said her family hadn't been close, a little dysfunctional, but those he meets embrace him like kin. It feels foreign. So does she, watching her cousin, newly-wed and hugging Peter tight, "I've heard so much about you!"

Peter is surprised. His roommate is too, considering they'd had approximately two, 6-minute conversations over the phone since she'd made it to Cambridge, none of which included more than his name and age. "You too!" he says, and it's a half-truth: he'd heard distant anecdotes, begged for more on the subway ride over just to save embarassment. His voice pitches higher as Maya shifts away, tipsy and beaming. With a short exchange, she's gliding through the rest of the attendants, grabbing appetizers and receiving kisses on the cheek. He jolts when his roommate leans in, quiet against the music.

"You were right."

His brows lift just slightly, "About what?"

"She loved it. Nearly ruined her makeup," She watches after her cousin, "God, what a relief."

"A relief?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm surprised she didn't throw it in my face. She hated that woman." She sips on a flute of champagne, winces and hands it to Peter without a glance. When she finally meets his eyes, wide and innocent, she gives him a small smile, "What?"

"No, I just... I thought it was sentimental."

"No, you're right, it is," He waits for her to continue, tipping the glass back a little and letting the froth gather on his tongue, "I took it after they'd had this huge blow-up. I guess she found it sweet. Better that, than..."

"A permanent wedding ban?"

"Yeah; from all her next ones," She grins, crossing her arms over her chest and staring into the crowd again, finding Maya dancing with her husband, "No," She softens, "I think this is for good."

A quiet fills the air between them.

"You changed your mind on weddings?"

She eyes Peter suspiciously, then looks to the overcast sky, "A little. Did you expect me to?"

He takes a moment to think, "No. I just thought you were worried."

She echoes him, "About what?"

"I don't know. Maybe that this was gonna be some big event that made you feel alone. Or that things were gonna be weird with your family," She watches him, "Isn't that why you asked me to come? Of course, I'm happy to, just..."

"Yeah," She nods, brow furrowing, "But it's not just that. I don't know. It feels weird to go places without you, these days," She laughs off the gravity of it, although it's sincere. They don't talk about it: the comfort they've eased into, the soft and eager friendship. It flits away when acknowledged, they know that. It's safer to keep it close to the chest.

"We should do a bat-mitzvah next, right?"

She nods fervently, "Please."

They're shuffling through the door and into the dark of the apartment, lit only by the dull street-lights outside the window, casting silver shadows onto the walls. She goes for the light above the stove, already blinded by the elevator ride up. Her feet are blistered and she leans against the counter just to slip off her heels, skin sticking to the tiles. The low noise of the apartment thrums in her ears. Peter is unlacing his nicest shoes, a touch scuffed from being dragged to the dancefloor every time a Wang Chung song came on, and when he makes it to the kitchen the quiet is only amplified by her slow breathing, the tick of the fridge. Her eyes are closed, head throbbing in the absence of sound and the chaos of the rooftop. Peter swallows and her eyelids flutter open, heavy. The little alcohol in their systems is starting to fizzle out, leaving a buzz just warm enough to make their limbs weak.

He whispers like they have to keep quiet, "That was fun."

"It was," she says. Then, with less conviction, "Thanks for coming. You didn't have to."

He offers a tired smile, "You knew I would." She doesn't argue, there's no need to; just pushes gently off the counter with a stifled yawn, struggles to nod in agreement.

"I knew you would. You're always doing that kind of stuff for people," He waits, hands stuffed in the pockets of his blazer, picking lint, "Taking a weekend to do shit you don't really care about. Nice things. Weddings."

She's softer past her curfew, bathing in the sincerity she can afford with the darkness between them, "I care about them," He defies.

"I know. It just surprises me sometimes, the..." She thinks, eyes flitting over his features, down to the knot of his tie, "The good you're capable of."

His brows dip, and the look is so earnest it bruises her, "I wanted to go with you."

"That too," She nods, head heavy, a weak and lopsided grin finding its way to the corner of her mouth. It's bittersweet, "That's nice."

"You say that like you wouldn't do the same."

She shrugs, tucking her hands behind her back, holding her wrists and rolling her shoulders back, "Maybe."

"You do nice things," He presses, eyes finding the ceiling as he runs it through in his head, "You make people feel comfortable; you make them laugh. You make me feel comfortable." Her nose twitches, confronted, "You do all the stuff I'm shitty at, just because you want to."

When she doesn't speak, he goes on.

"Whatever's good in me, it's... it's in you, too."

Her eyes are glossy with fatigue, and they share the quiet for a moment. She isn't sure that anyone has ever said anything that nice to her before, and she says as much, prompting another wounded glance from her roommate, "Oh, don't look at me like that."

He blinks, caught off guard, "Like what?"

"You know how," Her brows furrow in amusement as she searches his bewildered eyes, "Like you're a puppy who just got abandoned at a gas station."

"I am not looking at you like a puppy who just got... abandoned at a gas station."

"Could've fooled me. I can almost see it: you pity me," She teases, but a part of her feels raw.

"I don't pity you."

"Yeah, yeah, Parker. Enough out of you," She grins.

"I don't." He frowns, grabbing her gently by her upper arm as she turns for a distraction. Her eyes come down to his hand, then back to him dubiously, "I don't."

When he lets go, palms clammy, she keeps eyeing him and smiles to herself, lips pursing to the side.

"What?" He watches her step back to lean against the counter again, one foot across the other, arms threaded across her chest now as her eyes move around the room.

"You know, a little while back, uh... Morgan, the vice-principal, he emailed me. Something about an apartment that had just freed up." Peter stills, "And I almost thought about it for a little bit, you know; I still didn't know you too well. You kept burning the food," She laughs, "I was thinking tonight, when Maya dragged you to the dancefloor, and you were just standing there like a newborn fucking calf, and I thought... I'm glad I never did."

It's then that he kisses her.

A / N | I started writing this a year ago, coming back every now and then to polish it until I realised it's fun and it's imperfect and who cares. Hope you enjoyed.

[itsrheasgirl]

THE MORNING AFTER

Following an incredible night with the reader, Rhea has to return home to Florida without saying goodbye.

•

mentions of Bianca Belair.

mentions of Damian Priest.

•

@rheasbaee @you-got-me-star-lost-16 @innagnv @bittersweetastoria @chillinbri @call-me-a-simp @sithfar @rooskaya-yelena @half-of-a-gay @teenagedramaqueenlisa @gabrielleskyelar

•

The door closed with a soft click as you disappeared into the hallway, leaving Rhea alone in her room. She sat on the end of her bed as clammy palms scraped back through her onyx locks, a long sigh vibrating in her throat.

“Shit.”

She muttered to herself as a coy smirk claimed her lips, her fingers remaining wound into her hair as she chuckled softly. She couldn’t believe what had just happened, when you’d left the bar she thought that was the last she’d see of you. That you would disappear out of her life again for god knows how long. Smoothing her palms down her features, she exhaled another breath. Only a few moments passed since your departure, the tip of Rhea’s tongue coating her lips as her palms shifting to push herself up off the bed.

She’d pretty much packed before heading out for the night, her belongings all tucked away except for what she intended to wear home. The idea of going home had been so exciting when the weekend had started, Rhea was actually getting a few days off before returning to the ring and she couldn’t wait, but now— now it felt different.

Throwing her shirt back on, Rhea crossed the room to the small table which housed a bowl of decorative shells and a small pad of paper. She hadn’t planned on letting you leave so quickly, there was so much she’d wanted to say but couldn’t think of how to start.

Rhea’s nimble fingers scooped up a pen and began to twirl it between her middle finger and thumb, her brow furrowing and her nose crinkling as she mulled over the best way to write down what she needed to say. She couldn’t bring herself to tell you any of this in person, that she’d felt more than friendship towards you since the day you’d met— when Liv had introduced you all those years ago.

She’d have to find a way to get her note to you, she couldn’t just slip it under your door in the morning— Liv could find it.

Tapping the cap of the pen down against the table, Rhea chewed at her lower lip. Her shimmering gaze staring down at the blank sheet of papers as she exhaled, the black ink sprawling across the crisp white as she began write.

Hey pretty girl,

I know this weekend was hard for you, Liv is important to you and I understand that. But last night was… I don’t even know, words don’t begin to describe it.

I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye, in all fairness I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t begin to imagine letting you walk away from me again.

I wish we had one more day, I miss your touch already but we knew that reality would have to eventually set in….

Rhea’s lips twitch into a cheeky grin as she paused for a moment, her lids fluttering closed as her tongue coaxed slowing over her lips. Cinematic imagery of your bare breasts, your moist core and your purple blemished skin flashing before her eyes.

Rhea hummed softly as she returned to reality, the pen scribbling against the paper once more as she continued to write.

This weekend was more than I could have asked for, I never could have imagined that I would get to actually kiss you, hold you, feel your bare skin against my own and… well, you know.

I want to see you again, I need to. Being around you, I feel… important? Like you see me for me and not Rhea. Maybe next time I’m in New York? I don’t know when that will be, my matches are scattered all over these day. I’m not even sure when my next time off is. But I want you to know..

Until that day comes, I’ll always be thinking of you.

Your Dems. xx

Rhea looked over the letter she’d whipped up, a warm smile claiming her lips as she folded the paper in half and slipped it under the handle of her suitcase. A soft yawn breaking her lips as both arms stretched up over her head, her neck rolling to induce a small crack from each side.

It was getting late and she had an early flight.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The rustle of carpet under wheels was the only sound in the hallway as Rhea walked towards the elevator, it was so early and she’d barely slept— her subconscious having been extremely occupied. A soft yawn parted her lips as she rubbed at her eyes with one palm, her form coming to a complete halt outside room six eleven. She wanted to knock, hoping that you’d be the one to open the door but it was seven thirty in the morning and she didn’t want to wake either of the room’s occupants.

Exhaling a short breath Rhea continued on towards the elevator, her free palm reaching out to hit the call button before digging around in her bag in search of the letter she’d intended for you. Many ways to get the letter to you had played over in Rhea’s head, most of them were high risk and she didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship with Liv once more so she’d found a different approach.

The ding of the elevator pulled Rhea’s focus, a tired smile claiming her lips as she came face to face with an equally tired Bianca.

“Ooooof, you look rough.”

Rhea chortled, dropping the letter back into her bag before Bianca could notice, slipping into the elevator and poking playfully at her arm.

“Shhhhhh.”

The fellow female whispered, bringing a lone finger up to press lazily against Rhea’s lips.

“Toooo loud.”

Another soft laugh echoing in Rhea’s chest as she stood perfectly still, her brow furrowing slightly at Bianca’a actions. She hadn’t expected to see anyone she knew this early, so running into Bianca was something she hadn’t planned for. Poking the tip of her tongue out against Bianca’s finger, she laughed when her companion snapped her palm back with a whine.

“Ewwwww, gross.”

Rhea wiggled her brow playfully— it instantly falling into confusion as the door opened and Bianca walked onto into the hall, spinning back to face Rhea with a warm grin.

“You’re leaving already?”

Bianca questioned, a yawn breaking her lips as the door began to close again. Rhea’s palm stretched out to keep it open as she bobbed her head gently, adjusting the bag on her shoulder so it didn’t fall.

“Flights at nine.”

Bianca simply nodded, turning to head down hallway without another word. A soft laugh vibrating in Rhea’s chest as she stepped back into the elevator to continue the downward ride to the lobby. It didn’t bother her that Bianca left, she needed all the extra time she could get to execute her plan anyway.

Slipping out the elevator and into the lobby, Rhea began the search for your letter again. Nimble fingers grasping the small sheet of paper as she paused in front of a decorative vase filled with pink lilies, a mischievous grin claiming her lips as she looked left and right for any hotel staff. They won’t miss one she thought to herself as she released the handle of her suitcase to gently plucked a singular flower from the water that nourished it— shaking off the excess droplets.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Rhea placed the small note and flower down onto the check-in desk along with her room key, her sapphire gaze meeting that of the slender brunette as a warm smile claimed the new females features.

“Good morning Miss, how can I help you?”

Rhea’s fingertips drummed down against the white paper as she took a quick peek around the lobby, she’d already unexpectedly ran into Bianca and didn’t want to risk anyone else overhearing her convocation.

“Demi Bennett room six fifteen, checking out.”

Rhea scanned the room again quickly as the hostess tinkered with her computer, taking the room key back and logging in Rhea’s check out.

Returning her features back to face the brunette, she slowly pushed the note and singular pink lily over towards the hotel clerk, a giddy smile claiming her lips as she spoke.

“So.. a girl is going to come looking for me, I need you to give this to her. Don’t answer her questions, just give her this. Can you do that?”

The female nodded and gently took the flower and placed it down beside her computer, placing the note on the counter behind her she turned back to Rhea with a warm grin.

“Of course Miss, I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The smile on Rhea’s face falters slightly, her glistening eyes a little dimmer and her warm smile a little colder— a soft cough from the lady behind the counter pulling her focus, Rhea looked up to address what seemed to concern the hostess.

“Is everything okay Miss?”

Rhea swallowed back a small lump that had began to form in her throat, gripping at her suitcase handle as she inhaled a small breath. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t ready to go back home. She missed her dogs— her friends, but the idea of leaving you behind was definitely affecting her more than she’d expected.

Running a palm through her hair to fix the stray strands that dropped about her features, she bobbed her head gently. Meeting the fellow females gaze just long enough for her to smile.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

The hostess nodded and offered a soft smile, not bothering to pry Rhea over what was wrong. It wasn’t her place and didn’t wish to cause the Aussie any more upset.

“I hope you enjoyed your stay, Miss.”

Rhea returned the brunettes smile before spinning on sneaker clad feet, there was nothing more she could do except leave and yet she was frozen in place. Her palm still held tightly around her suitcase handle, the thrum of her heart getting louder as she tried her best to move. Every ounce of her subconscious willing her to leave the hotel, as much as it hurt she had to.

The gentle vibration of her phone shifted Rhea back to reality, a soft sigh parting her lips as she read the alert that flashed across the screen.

“I’m at the car when you’re checked out, already got us coffee.”

Damian always seemed to be there when Rhea needed him, a soft smile claiming her lips as she inhaled a shallow breath. If he was waiting she had to go, they had flights to catch.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rhea’s gaze hadn’t left the road as she drove, Damian sat in silence beside her as he contemplated how to approach whatever it was that clearly plagued his companion. Rhea usually seemed so excited to be heading home after such a draining weekend and Damian knew that, but this time was different. She seemed almost reluctant to leave, as if something was trying to keep her here. Drumming the tips of his fingers against his knee, Damian coughed to clear his throat before turning his head to look over Rhea’s features.

“What’s going on kiddo?”

Rhea rolled her eyes as she shoved her palm into his chest, returning it to the wheel as she tried not to smile. She definitely wasn’t a kiddo, but every time Damian said she was it reminded her of a protective brother. Just looking out for her. Peeking at Damian through her peripherals, she parted her lips with her tongue before exhaling softly.

“I told you don’t call me that.”

She flashed him a pouty look before laughing it of, shaking her head gently as she spoke.

“Nothing you can solve, big guy.”

The judgement day were like family— in and out of the ring. It made Rhea smile at how much Damian looked after her, keeping her sane and protecting her from making mistakes. He’d already been there for her this weekend and she didn’t want to burden him with any more of her drama. Removing her hand from the wheel once more, she tapped it down against the muscular males shoulder with a smile.

“That’s for me to decide.”

He responded, taking a sip of his coffee before gesturing into the open air with his palm.

“So, what’s going on.”

He wasn’t going to let this go and Rhea knew it, what she didn’t know was how she was going to talk about her feelings with Damian of all people. Returning her palm back to the wheel, she gripped it tightly and pressed her lips into a thin line. Inhaling a long breath— she played with the best way to word what was spiraling in her head. Talking about it made it all reality and that scared her, what if nothing came of it. What if it was all just a day dream that had to end?

“Fess up, Bennett.”

Rhea exhaled extremely slowly, letting her lids close for a brief second as she chewed at her lower lip— rolling the flesh between her teeth. She still couldn’t think, she didn’t want to sound like a sappy girl talking about the way you made her feel. She didn’t want Damian making fun of her for being girly and having feelings.

“Let me guess.”

Damian quipped, knocking back the last of his coffee.

“Last night something happened you’d never expected would ever happen, you came back to find a special person in your hotel room and in turn found yourself the happiest you’ve been in a while. Now you have to leave that special person and it’s hurting more than you’d like to admit…”

Rhea’s crystal gaze widens as Damian speaks, her words catching in her throat leaving her unable to respond.

“She makes you feel important— seen and walking away from that feeling is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. You find yourself constantly thinking about her smile and the way she laughs, the glimmer in her eyes and the way her hair falls about her features.”

Saliva pooled on Rhea’s tongue as Damian continued, his gaze having shifting from her to stare straight out the window to the road ahead.

“But now you’re worried that you won’t get to see her again. That leaving her will lead to you losing her and you won’t get to tell her how you really feel.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Rhea’s lips as she kept her gaze on the road, bringing her coffee up to her lips to take a sip before glancing at Damian through her peripherals once more. Her brow raising as she placed the coffee back down into the cup holder.

“What.. um, what makes you think that?”

Rhea questioned, as the car slowed down to a halt. Her gaze remaining forward as to not address Damian head on. She wasn’t even sure she really wanted to know, and she didn’t need her facial expressions giving her away.

Damian laughed to himself as he unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbing all his belongings from his lap before opening his door. Swinging one leg out into the parking lot, he leaned back slightly to jab his elbow into Rhea’s upper arm with a whispered tone.

“Our rooms shared a wall.. and I’m not deaf.”

[tooxmanyxships]

This is just 2k of pure pain.

You're warned.

⚠️ Major character death ⚠️

It's been a year. One horrible year since Daniel died. 

 

To say Lando was a wreck when Daniel died is an understatement. He was simply inconsolable.

 

Daniel was his reason to smile. Now that reason was gone. 

 

The only person who could understand him a little bit was Max.

 

Max who loved Daniel just as much as Lando did, but in a different way. 

 

The whole grid can still remember the guttural screams both boys let out when they watched Daniel's crash. 

 

The absolute devestation that fell over the paddock. 

 

Carlos had caught hold of Lando, trying to hold him up.

 

It took more than one person to hold Max back from running towards Daniel's demolished car.

 

It was clear. 

 

Daniel wasn't gonna get out. 

 

Not alive at least.

 

The races for the rest of the season were canceled after that. 

 

Nobody felt like getting close to their cars anymore. 

 

 

"Marry me." 

 

Lando spit out the sip he just took from his drink to stare at the older man. 

 

"W-what?!" 

 

Daniel chuckled, but it sounded nervous. "We're in Vegas. We've been together for what... 2 years?" 

 

Lando scratched at his curls, "2 years and a half." He murmurs, swatting at Daniel's arm when he chuckles. 

 

"It's about time then, don't you think?" 

 

"You can't just ask me this, just like that, out of the blue!"

 

"Why not?" 

 

"Because!"

 

"I wasn't exactly asking either...."

 

"That's even worse!" 

 

Daniel grinned, "Would it be better if I did it like this?" 

 

And then he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a little velvet box out of it. Lando gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth, as Daniel went down on one knee. 

 

"Lando Norris. Love of my life. Will you marry me?"

 

Lando couldn't speak. Couldn't even move. 

 

"Lando?" 

 

Daniel's worried tone and his hand on his cheek shook him out of his trance.

 

He didn't even realize he was crying. 

 

He clasped onto Daniel's hand on his cheek and twined their fingers together.

 

"Yes! Yes I will marry you!!!"

 

Daniel's worried frown turned into a spit eating grin. 

 

He got up from the floor and gathered Lando up in his arms, spinning him around until they were both dizzy. 

 

The ring wasn't slid on his finger until the ceremony the next evening. 

 

The whole grid was there. Max and Carlos as proud best men. 

 

It was the quickest, but also the best marriage ever. 

 

No one could predict it would be this short lived. 

 

 

It was just minutes before Q3 would start. 

 

Somehow Lando got kicked out at Q1 and Max's car had dnf'ed in Q2. 

 

As sad as it was for him, Lando had still made his way over to the Redbull garage (yes, Daniel was a Redbull driver again) to wish his husband of one day good luck. 

 

"I'm sorry you aren't out on the track with me," Daniel murmured in between soft kisses. 

 

"Eh. The car was shit. You'll just have to drive for both of us." 

 

"I'll do you proud." 

 

"You always do, Dan." 

 

"I love you, hubby." 

 

Lando's smile lit up the whole paddock. 

"I lw1ove you too. Go get them!"

 

Daniel winked and blew him a kiss before pulling on his balaclava and helmet, lifting himself into his car. 

 

Lando made his way to the media pen, still smiling, finger playing with the ring around his finger. Completely unaware of what he was about to witness.

 

It was in the middle of an interview that his attention was pulled towards the screen. 

 

"That's Ricciardo's Redbull spinning! Crashing against Ocon's Alpine and flying up in the air! Oh no.... No, this is a bad one..."

 

Lando watched on in complete horror as he saw Daniel's car catch fire. He could also see absolute mayhem in the pitlane.

 

He heard a scream, then another one very close by. 

 

He didn't even realize the second scream was his own until he felt Carlos' arms wrap around him as his knees buckled.

 

Daniel wasn't coming out. 

 

It was taking too long. 

 

He really wasn't coming out, no matter how hard the marshals were trying. 

 

He couldn't hear anything of the absolute chaos around him because his ears were ringing.

 

Fingers wrapped around the ring on his finger. 

 

They just got married. 

 

This was supposed to be the happiest time of his life.

 

A dream come true. 

 

Not this nightmare. 

 

 

Every day and every night since then, Daniel's ethereal form watched how Lando suffered.

 

How he stayed in bed for the next two months most of the time. Only Max, sometimes Carlos too, were allowed to visit him. 

 

It was absolutely heartwrenching to watch. Especially because he couldn't do anything. Lando couldn't even see him. 

 

Sometimes he thought Lando felt his presence. Same with Max. 

 

Max wasn't much better off than Lando, Daniel could tell just by seeing his face when he visited Lando. 

 

When he had to watch Max crawl into bed with Lando, hearing them cry until they were too exhausted and fell asleep. 

 

Their sleep never lasted long either.

 

They often remenised about their own times with Daniel. 

 

As friends. As teammates. And for Lando, as lovers. 

 

Daniel listened to the stories with a soft, sad smile on his face. 

 

Sometimes he wishes he could pull them both into a hug. 

 

He mostly wishes he could put a smile back on Lando's face. 

 

He misses that smile so much. 

 

 

Now they're a year later, back in Vegas. 

 

Lando on one hand wishes they wouldn't race there anymore, but on the other hand he knows how much Daniel loved Vegas. 

 

So ironic....

 

But something happens that year. Something none of them expected. Least of all Lando. 

 

"That's P1 Lando! P1! You're the Vegas GP winner!"

 

“No... I... I won?! "

 

“Yes! Your first win!"

 

"Oh my---" and then he's sobbing. "I can't believe this. Daniel.... Holy shit. This... This is for Danny. "

 

Zak's voice comes through the radio. "Well done, Lando. I'm sure he'd be proud of you." 

 

Lando is caught between laughing and crying. 

 

He parks the car and sits there, head bowed. He still can't wrap his head around this victory.

 

He finally lifts himself up, with shaking arms and shaking legs. He almost trips and falls, but Max, who's P2, is there to catch him and wrap him up in a hug.

 

They pull back long enough to take off their helmets and balaclavas, dropping them into Lando's car for a moment, then they're hugging and clutching at each other once again. 

 

"He's so proud of you, Lando." Not 'he would be' just a 'he is'. "Can you feel it? He's so happy for you."

 

Lando nods, crying into Max's shoulder, his hand snaking up between their bodies, fingers curling around the ring on his necklace.

 

He can't feel it, but, Daniel's wrapped around his back, his arms wrapped around both him and Max as the three of them cry with smiles on their faces. 

 

He's so proud of his boy. Of his husband. 

 

He only wishes he could show him. 

 

But somehow, he thinks he knows. 

 

 

They're standing up on the podium. 

 

Oscar P3. Max P2 and Lando P1. 

 

One hand is holding his trophy, the other is wrapped around the ring on his necklace once again. 

 

He stares up at the clouds as the anthem of Great Britain plays, hoping he's looking down  smiling. 

 

Then...... Something happens. 

 

As the anthem is about to end, it changes. It changes into the Australian anthem and Lando's jaw drops. 

 

He looks over at Oscar, then at Max. They both just look as flabbergasted as he does. 

 

He can tell there's a commotion behind the scenes. They're trying to stop the music but it doesn't work. 

 

He looks back up at the sky, sees how the sun comes peeking through and he gets it. 

 

His fingers clasp around the ring even harder and he smiles. 

 

It feels like he's bathed in sunlight. Wrapped up in his husband's loving embrace. 

 

Max gets up on the top step with him, wrapping his free arm around his waist. He knows he's looking up at the sky and smiling too. 

 

Mere seconds later, Oscar does the same. 

 

They just stand there, basking in the warmth and glory.

 

The whole crowd is looking at them, then up at the sky. 

 

There's a reason for everything. 

 

And this reason was Daniel. 

 

 

"Congratulations again." Oscar's soft voice startles Lando a little. 

 

They're sharing a hotel room together because Max is rooming with Carlos, the two of them became a lot closer the last few months, and Oscar is the only other person Lando allows to get close to him.

 

He's his teammate after all. Has been since before Daniel died. 

 

To be honest, they've been growing closer the last few months too. Since racing season started up again. 

 

At first Lando didn't let him in, Oscar had expected that, but he was so insistent. Just never giving up. And eventually, Lando let him in again. 

 

"Thanks," He smiles, patting the space on the bed next to him. "Still can't believe I just had my first win." 

 

"I can," Oscar smiles back, sitting down next to him. His eyes go over to the ring around his neck. "So could he. Obviously." 

 

Lando's eyes go down to his chest, his hand going up to hold the ring once again. 

 

"I still don't know how that happened." He whispers, feeling Oscar move closer, feels an arm being wrapped around his shoulders. 

 

"I don't either. But it did." He rests his head on Oscar's shoulder and feels his fingers card through his curls. 

 

"I know I'm not him," Oscar whispers softly, his free hand curling around Lando's hand that's holding the ring. "and I'll never try to replace him. But I like you, Lando." 

 

Lando closes his eyes, fingers clenching around the ring even tighter. 

 

"I know. No one will ever be him." He feels Oscar's starting to retreat, but he stops it by twining their fingers together around the ring. "But I think he'd like it to be you." He opens his eyes, turning his head so he can look into Oscar's eyes. "I like you too, Oscar. I just.... Need time." 

 

Oscar nods, squeezing the fingers that are twined with his. "I'll give you all the time you need." 

 

It's like they can feel the ring vibrate inside their joined hands and they both gasp. 

 

Lando looks out of the window and nearly topples over, out of the bed. as he sees a well known reflection, just in a flash. 

 

His eyes quickly glance over to the corner he thought he saw the reflection stand in, but there's no one there. Of course there isn't. 

 

He can't be there - - - 

 

"Lando, look!“

 

Oscar's breathy voice makes him look at him and Oscar points to the window Lando was just looking through. 

 

The window is fogged and instead of a reflection, he can now see words that are written in the fog. 

 

'It's okay. Proud of you. Love. Always. DR3' 

 

Lando entangles himself from Oscar, gets off the bed, then holds his hand out towards his younger teammate and walks with him to the window. 

 

He stares at the words, then replies on the glass next to it. 

 

'I'll never forget you. Love. Always. LN4' 

 

He thinks he sees the light on the other side of the road flicker a few times. He knows it's not just his imagination when he feels Oscar squeeze his hand. 

 

A single tear leaves his eye as he feels like he's losing Daniel one last time. But at the same time he smiles, because he knows he's happy for him. 

 

He feels Oscar wrap his arms around him from behind and hook his shin on his shoulder as they both stare out of the foggy window. 

 

The light flickers one more time. Then it's dark. 

 

Daniel's gone. 

 

But he'll live on in their memories. 

 

And in the little things he left behind. 

[silly-inky]

Can we have more sibling banter between Mario and Luigi? Have some of my thoughts on them

Mario and Luigi def insult each other (this next part I will take directly from one of my head canons posts because I'm too lazy enough to think of more stuff lol) :

Mario: Luigi you’re looking extra ugly today. What did you do? Get a shower? Your skin looks like it’s melting off like the wicked witch of the west

Luigi: Look who’s talking you red bowling ball, you look like a love child between Danny DaVitto and Golem from lord of the ring, who's very existence makes god weep knowing he has to look at your face when you die

Mario: We have almost the same face you you dried out celery stick

Luigi: You’re the one that started it ‘jump man’

They pull pranks on each other all the time, such as Mario hiding Luigi's stuff around the house on their birthday, making him think he misplaced or simply forgot to out it back in its right place, until he looks at/in the object which will have a little note that would say something along the lines of "loosing your marbles already old man?", it's tradition at this point. Luigi would be a bit more smart and creative though, such as loosing all the screws on Mario's chair, so when he sits down on it, it falls apart, or putting tiny rocks under the insoles of Mario's shoes, so he feels them, but every time he tales his shoes off no rocks come out.

I headcanon that Mario has ADHD and Luigi has autism, so imagine with me, Luigi info dumping about his current hyper fixation, and Mario loosing his train of thought a lot through their convo

Luigi: and then ther is this thing about it!

Mario: that's cool, it reminds me of... Ummm.... Oh what was I gonna say!..................................................................................What were we talking about just now?

Luigi: * specific thing* I was on about

Mario: oh right! Go on

It works both ways, but Mario prefers to listen to Luigi, of course sometimes he just gets annoyed though

Mario: Luigi I love you, but I'm not interested right now, I'm trying to watch something here

Luigi: we'll screw you too (in a joking matter)

They both stim, with Luigi it's more vocal stimming such a screeching (he mainly does it in a more comfortable setting, such as at home) popping, clicking his tongue and random Jiberish, he likes to rock and jump when he's standing either when excited or bored, and occasionally will grab Mario's arms and flail his hands about, Mario is chill with this and laughs a little whenever Luigi does it, it's justbhis way of showing hebis excited and wants to share that with people

Mario stims through Echolalia (repeating certains words, phrases or sounds) visual stimming and tapping, he likes to stare at fire and flashing/ colour chnaging lights, he watches little ants on the floor move, we will watch the clouds slowly change in the sky, and he will move his head side to side looking at how the lighting changes on the jewels in Peaches crown. In meetings when he's bored an can't speak, he will tap his fingers or a pen and bounce his leg

They both know eachothers stimming, and encourage eachother doing so, so they don't get overwhelmed, but also as a way of showing his they are feeling to their friends without actually saying what they are feeling

Mario will randomly wake up in the middle of the night to go to the kitchen for something, only to find Luigi already awake and doing something in the kitchen

Mario: what are you doing up bro? Nightmares again?

Luigi: a little it's more of the phantom pain from my burn scars again (headcanon of him having burn scars from holding the man hole cover to protect mario)

Mario: shit, that doesn't sound fun

Luigi: it isn't, but I can't go back to sleep, so I made cookies, their on the cooling wrack

Mario: thought I smelt something good. Do you want me to stay up with you?

Luigi: nah, it'll pass eventually, currently talking with Rosalina over text to keep myself occupied, she says hi by the way

Mario: alrighty, I hope it goes away soon, and tell Rosie I send my love. Goodnight

Luigi: night bro

Peach often keeps Luigi up to speed on Mario's condition when he's not at home, and Luigi does the same for Peach, they have a running joke of calling Mario anything but Mario when talking about him, so he doesn't really understand they are on about him

Mario def jokes about Luigi's love life, when he does this however, Luigi reminds him of how he has not even accepted his own feelings about a certain princess, which quickly shuts him up

In the end, they make fun of eachother a lot, but are eachothers biggest fans, no one will ever love Luigi morebthan Mario, and no one will ever respect Mario more than Luigi

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[aro-absol]

Aro Ring Guide for closeted folk

How to justify your specific ring choices without coming out

If you still live with your parents and can not buy an aro ring without them knowing, they might ask you why exactly it has to be a white ring on the left middle finger. Also works for friends and acquaintances that you cannot or do not want to come out to.

This is what I did when I bought my aro ring and my parents started asking questions.

Just because it worked for me doesn't mean there's a guarantee it'll work for you as well. You know your situation better than me. Be safe!

Why a ring?

This will probably be easier if you're a girl (or your parents think you are), as it is more socially acceptable for women to accessorize than it is for men. However, throughout history it was common for powerful men to wear rings as a symbolism for power and wealth. It also can be a great way for self-expression.

Why the left hand?

If you're right-handed: The left hand is your non-dominant hand. You could say it makes you uncomfortable to wear a ring on your dominant hand because it can be hindering in day to day tasks such as holding a pen.

If you're left-handed: You can say that you like wearing a ring on your dominant hand better because it is more visible. You use your dominant hand more often and therefore more people will notice your ring. Alternatively, if you're wearing a watch (which is typically worn on the non dominant side), you can say you want a more balanced out look so you wear the ring on the opposite hand. This is what many style guides literally recommend when it comes to wearing rings.

Why white?

If you have light skin: You can say that you prefer a ring color that doesn't clash so much with your skin. You want a ring but you like to keep it more subtle. Admittedly, this works better if you're not wearing any other rings. If they ask you why you didn't choose a colorful ring, you can say that you want to be able to wear it with any outfit and don't want to worry about the colors of your clothes clashing with the color of the ring.

If you have dark skin: You can say you want a ring that stands out to your skin. Because if you buy a ring and wear it, you want people to notice. And white is more obvious on your skin than black or a dark metal. If they ask you why you didn't choose a colorful ring, you can say that you want to be able to wear it with any outfit and don't want to worry about the colors of your clothes clashing with the color of the ring.

And if you're somewhere in between, you can always say that you want some contrast to your skin but not too much.

Why the middle finger?

According to some websites I found (x/x/x/x), a ring on the middle finger doesn't really have an assigned meaning. Rings on the middle finger are mostly a fashion statement, apparently. Although a ring on the middle finger might symbolize power, balance and stability. But all in all, nothing that'll make your parents suspicious. I do not know how reliable those sources actually are but they are the first things to come up when you search for the meaning of rings on the middle finger online.

However, googling "white ring left middle finger" leads to aro rings! If you think your parents might google that, be careful!

Other search engines might not give you aro ring results in the top results. (For example, Ecosia does not.)

I hope this helps some of y'all!

[delicatetaleprincess]

Whats in your mind

"Now everyone settle down" the teacher call out to everyone making the classroom go silent

"As you all know we have been getting some new estudents transfer after the neighbour school burn down so today we are getting a new friend add to our school and classroom"

As the teacher said that many started to murmur between each other

It was normal

The school explocion was in everyone's mind being a resent event without an certain explanaition

Police had mention being cuase by a gas like by a damage that exploted after a studen smoked inside the school

Some belive It, the school had a horrible reputation in its maintenance after all It was known to be more of a correctional than an actual school

Where problematic or resources people would go to

Others think that It was goberment hit or that It was tamper

The stories on and on

"Now everyone you are old enough for this, be sensitive and welcome your new friend with welcome arms" the teacher said shushing everyone "Milo you can come in"

As the teacher said that a young man came in, he wore all black with a hat that make It difficult to see his face until he face the classroom

"Good morning everyone my name is Milo, I hope we can get along"

On the contrary to his way of dressing that seem like a funeral

His personality was a whole 180°, a friendly smile plaster in his face with a playful stare

The new guy quickly catch some girls attention they smiled and whisper with each other giggling

"It is nice to have you here Milo, why dont you take a sit beside Hope?"

The teacher pointed at the middle row sits an empty sit in the table where a young male sit stearing intensly at the front class

"Thanks miss Clare"

Milo smiled and walk to his table as some started at him with the back of their eyes

"Nice to meet you, I hope we can get along" Milo said with a smile as he plop his backpack under the table

But no answer came back

The young male keep looking at the front class, his stare somewhere else

"Oh dont worry about him, his head is always somewhere else"

A young female turn around and snap her fingers in the male's face

The male blink twice and then look at her with annoyance

"What?" he said eyebros frown

"Milo is talking to you dont be rude, thats why you dont have friends" she said annoy by his lack of attention

"I do have friends" Hope murmur between his teeth

He turn to his side and stared at Milo up and down

"Oh Im sorry, nice to meet you Im Hope" he stretch his hand to Milo who hold It in a strong and confident squizz

"Oh dont worry, Im sorry for interrupting your train of thoughts" Milo chuckle

"You shouldn't worry, Hope doesn't really think" the female chim in to the conversation

Hope give them an annoy expression before biting on the pen they had on hand

"Grace stop bothering Hope and pay attention here the class is about to start" the teacher call from the front "dont make me change you of sit again"

The female chuckle at Milo and roll her eyes annoy as she went back to her sit

Milo stare as Hope put the pincel down, it was worn beyong savation by marks It from the point to the metal point where the eraser should be

He watch from the back of his eye as he then pull other pencil out, this one had fewer chewing marks on it and finally started writing what the teacher written in the board which Milo took as his cue to start writing

It was half an hour of hearing and copying what the teacher dictated from her books until the bell ring

Everyone quickly left except for Milo, Grace, Hope and the teacher

"Did you need me for something teacher?" Hope ask walking to the desk along with the other three

"Yes Hope, since Milo is your desk buddy I think It would be a great idea If you show him around the school" the teacher said with smile

"But teacher!" Grace quickly intervine "I think I would be a better option to help Milo, I can even introducen him to the class with more efficiency, you know Hope is very lonely, he'll just drag Milo around"

"Well thats true, but we should let Milo choose to not overwhealm him" said the teacher

Milo analize in silent everyone's faces, Grace had an excited and confident smile that almost seem like smirk directed to Hope

He hide the best he could the grimace that wanted to show in his face, her face, her manerism...it was all too similar to him

He then look at Hope who look tired of everything and annoy, he look at Milo but quickly look away when both made eye contact

Clearly unconfortable of the whole situation and wanting out

The teacher only smiled a kindly at him oblivious or maybe way too use to Grace and actitude

"Too bad for you Hope" Milo thought before smiling

"I want Hope to give me the tour Miss. Clare, I think it would be easier for me and i wont get so overwhealm by people"

Milo look on the corner of his eye how Hope tried to keep his cool but his eyes twich slightly while Grace pouted with her eyes cross looking away

"I know most already know about my past and I wouldn't want to be center of attention for that matter" ended Milo with a pitiful smile

"Oh don't worry Milo, If you need help you can always come to me, ill defuse any conflict" she say with a warm smile "now go get some lunch, I'll give you two some extra time since Hope will be walking you around"

"Thanks miss. Clare" Milo chirp

"Whatever" Grace roll her eyes before leaving