#If you wore a different colored t-shirt the teachers would be like

[ineffag-swag]

I'm trying to see something with different school systems

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie: "Evan" vs. "Buck" - Parallels of Margaret & T.K. 1.0 vs. Phillip & T.K. 2.0

The video below includes a few examples of Phillip, Eddie and Tactless calling Buck "Evan" and IT'S EASY TO HEAR THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WAY THEY SAY IT. Phillip and Toy Story sound like they're scolding him while Eddie said it with love, emotion and caring. ALSO, I ADDED THE PART WHERE BUCK TOLD HIS DAD TO CALL HIM BUCK! That's why it's interesting Buck hasn't told Tree stump to call him "Buck" in CANON yet.

In a recent post I completed about Buck's "In Another Life" journey being continued in Season 8 (linked here), I mentioned I would do a separate post that included details regarding the parallels between Phillip and Timbuktu that would illustrate how their wardrobes are similar and their clothing in the different episodes proves it. The same way Phillip calls Buck "Evan" Transparent does it too and like I mentioned in my original post, I believe he's doing it because he's supposed to be teaching Buck something.

Reminder both Phillip and Margaret are TEACHERS! However, the audience didn't learn this information until 6x11 when Bobby said it at the end of the episode. Well, I said Tyrannosaurs Rex is supposed to be a GUIDE/ADVISOR to Buck and people in those roles are there to teach and support the person they're assigned to. Therefore, it makes sense that Phillip's and Temu's clothes are similar.

While watching 8x5, I kept trying to figure out why Tonka Toy's wardrobe looked different from the way it did in season 7 and when I realized he wore a plaid shirt twice, I immediately remembered who else wear's them. It's Buck's dad, Phillip. He wears them ALL THE TIME! Usually he has a sweater, cardigan or a blazer on top of them and they always cover most of his shirts but THEY'RE ALWAYS THERE and they're in plain sight. Reminder, Phillip calls Buck, "EVAN" and he usually does it with so much disdain that anyone who hears him whenever he says it can tell he's aggravated or annoyed with him.

I've placed pictures of Phillip from different episodes beside one's of Toy Story to illustrate this point.

In the first picture, Phillip and Margaret are talking to Maddie because she told Buck about Daniel. They told her she had no right to tell him and Phillip just let Margaret become unglued the same way she always does when she's talking about Buck and Daniel. It's also the part where he explained Buck being born was the reason why he packed them up and moved them to Hershey. In the second picture, they're in the hospital looking at Buck but reminder, they weren't in the room when Buck's found family entered later in the episode. In the third picture of Phillip (at the bottom), they had just arrived in L.A. because Maddie asked them to come and in the fourth photo, it was a flashback and it's when Margaret told Buck, "Don't be stupid, Evan." The pictures of Tinseltown are from 8x5 and 8x1. He wore plaid shirts in both of them. The one at the top is of him visiting Buck in the hospital after he dislocated his left shoulder and the one at the bottom is of him at Eddie's house before Chris' online birthday party.

Additionally, in 8x5 (below), Tree Branch was wearing another shirt that matches a color Phillip wore on two different occasions. It's a dark red almost burgundy color and Tonsilitis wore one in 8x5 while he was supposed to be helping Buck after he dislocated his shoulder. Reminder, it's the part where he told Buck he'd had enough screen time and it was time to turn off the computer. Also, he turned the lights out on him.

The first picture of Phillip is from "Buck Begins" and it's a flashback from the night Buck INJURED his arm after he crashed his motorcycle. Phillip asked him, "Evan, what were you even doing in that part of town?" It's also the night Maddie gave him her Jeep and told him to go and be happy. In the second picture, Phillip is at the firehouse with Margaret (they showed up unannounced) and he's telling "Evan" that it wasn't his fault that he couldn't save Daniel. It's when BUCK TOLD THEM, "It's BUCK! The people who know me call me Buck!"

I did a post a few years ago about the way Margaret and T.K. 1.0 spoke to Buck and I included some information about the way their wardrobes were similar too (linked here). It's the same story with both T.K.'s because in the pictures below, Margaret is wearing a reddish color sweater over her blouse but reminder, she was yelling at Buck for almost dying. In the picture of Taylor from 4x8, it's when she called Buck, "Needy". In the second set of pictures, Margaret is wearing a purple shirt and she's yelling at Buck because he was sitting in a tree. After she did, he fell down and broke his left arm. Taylor is talking down to Buck while wearing a lavender (shade of purple) blouse but reminder, she was upset with Buck because he climbed up the crane after Eddie was shot.

The point of this post is to illustrate what the show has been doing this whole time with T.K. 1.0 and T.K. 2.0. They're paralleling both of them with his parents. Taylor used to yell at Buck the same way Margaret did and now Trespass is talking to Buck and calling him Evan the same way Phillip does. Everyone who's ADMITTED that Buck prefers to be called "Buck" and not "Evan' fully understands that Tree branch calling him by his legal name is JUST PLAIN WRONG!

The one-time Eddie used his legal name, it was to let Buck know he is needed and that his life is NOT EXPENDABLE. (Related post linked here.)

THERE'S A REASON WHY THE SHOW ONLY LET'S TOMBSTONE CALL BUCK "EVAN" INSTEAD OF HIS CHOSEN NAME WHICH IS "BUCK".

Just saying!

[toxictigertonic]

ive tried to request and then immediately talked myself out of it 3 times now bc i get so nervous about asking off anon 😭 uhh can i get the prime assets dressing up :3c or like their clothing habits/preferences

Dressing them up like barbie dolls. I should do one of those dress up memes for them and draw them in stupid outfits. I'm putting Coyle in a skirt.

COYLE

- This man would wear leather 90% of the time, including leather pants. He takes wonderful care of his leather as well, makes sure to condition it as often as needed to keep it beautiful. If you see him sniffing his leather jacket, ignore it.

- It does not matter that he's sweating to death in said leather, he's not taking it off. He can't let you see his shirt with puppies on it underneath /j

- Prefers his clothing rather tight, super loose fitting clothing feels like it gets in the way. He likes the feeling of the wires wrapped around him for that reason.

- Would commit denim on denim crimes. Denim jeans, denim jacket, denim boots (referred to as doots by futterman). He does this to piss people off.

- Despises too much color in an outfit. Bright and colorful disgusts him, he's wearing neutrals and only neutrals.

- Would let a reagent decorate his beard with bows if he was promised pistachios. This is only if the pistachios are in his hands while they decorate.

- You'd think he'd wear heeled boots to make himself seem taller, but you'd be wrong! He's got the insoles that make him taller instead :)

- I think you could convince him to wear a rodeo cowboy outfit. Tassels and all that. You'd tell him he looks cool and he'd believe you.

- Cargo short dad vibes. Each pocket is full of cigarettes and/or pistachios. He doesn't care about the fashion he likes the utility. Takes him a good 5 minutes to get anything out of a pocket though.

- Wore fingerless gloves when he was younger bc he thought they made him look cooler. He'd try them on again and Franco would bully him relentlessly for trying to act younger than he is. He's crying in his room afterward.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- She'd be the English teacher with a collection of fun skirts. Cute patterns, silly patterns, gaudy patterns, you name it, she's wearing it. Futterman says she looks like a rainbow threw up on her.

- She'd also love bold earring choices. Big earrings that make you double-take to make sure you saw them right, earrings that light up, anything with frills. She's a lover of the bold, partially because the children love her crazy styles.

- She'd play around with different lipstick colors if she had access to them. A nice purple lip would make her happy. If Futterman didn't call her a whore for wearing it.

- Futterman would also call her a whore if she tried to wear a shorter skirt, but she'd still tried to get away with it. Not super short, mind you, she's got an image to keep up for the children, but maybe something a little below the knees?

- If a reagent offered to do her hair, like put little accessories in it and detangle it, she'd cry. She wants to feel feminine and she wants to feel pretty, and a pretty bow might help her with that.

- She'd love to wear a petticoat under her skirts, the extra poof would make her feel fun. That's if Futterman didn't find a way to make a fat joke about it.

- Futterman himself would have a collection of very dapper bow ties. Polka-dots and stripes and maybe even little stars, and a variety of colors. He feels fancy when she changes them out for him.

- He'd hate it, but I think Phyllis would have a variety of little hats for him. I wanna see him in one of those little propeller hats. Spin it and she takes off of the ground.

- If it were modern times I could absolutely see her wearing a giant t-shirt with something like a kitten or a puppy on it. Maybe even tie-dye. She'd be a big t-shirt enjoyer is the main idea here.

- Would LOVE chunky heels or maybe even platforms if she was feeling adventurous, but I have this bad feeling she already got shit for being a tall woman. Let her be an even taller queen.

FRANCO

- I love the concept that he wears his clothes too big to feel smaller. While I'm not sure if Murkoff gave him his outfit that he wears in game, I don't think he's too upset about it being oversized.

- I also think that he likes wearing his suits bc they make him feel a little less ugly. He knows the suit is dirty and stained with a bunch of different shit, but a suit is a suit, and suits make you handsome, right?

- He's very particular about his bow ties, he only likes a select few patterns and colors. They still have to match with his suits, though. Can't have himself looking like a fool who doesn't know how to dress!

- Would attempt to steal one of Futterman's bow ties bc he likes it and thinks it'd look better on him. Would almost get fucking annihilated as a result.

- We know his hygiene isn't great from the comics, but I think he's at least slightly ashamed about just how filthy his outfit is. I think he's just kinda accepted that it's not going to be cleaned/he has no way to clean it.

- If you put him in a brand new zoot suit and stuck him in front of a mirror, he'd try to act cocky and like he knew he was handsome as hell. But you'd absolutely be able to tell by how he's smiling and how his eyes are watery that he hasn't felt this attractive in awhile.

- A personalized pacifier WOULD be considered a part of an outfit. If his paci matched his outfit he'd feel so damn cool. And if it had his name on it and looked nice? He'd feel like a prince.

- He's gotta wear his dress shoes, they're a mandatory part of his look, but he wishes they had a little more heel to them. He's joining Coyle in the insoles that make him taller. My short king.

- Outside of the suits, he'd love a soft, heavy sweater. Something that really makes him feel like he's being cuddled. The color wouldn't really matter to him, as long as it offered him some comfort.

- I'm a firm believer in him wearing diamond earrings. I know it doesn't fit as much with the baby part of him, but the mobster in him loves showing off his wealth. He'd fiddle with them a lot, though.

I accidentally assigned Gooseberry's style as "lesbian art teacher" and I won't be taking it back ❤️

[growup-thatbeautiful]

always an angel (never a god)

Tags: mentions of childhood abuse, language, childhood best friends, weddings, angst

There was a time when you’d painted Jake’s fingernails. “For practice,” you explained, picking out the perfect blue to match his eyes. “So I can do my own next.” You had been sitting in his backyard, a ziplock bag of colors in between you. The grass was soft and green and dewey, just at the end of summer, and the air was ripe with the smell of the peach tree you sat under. The t-shirt you wore was probably his- even then you ended up stealing half of his clothes during last-minute sleepovers and spontaneous swims in his pool. 

Of course, he’d agreed- he always did. If anyone asked him- a football teammate or a nosy teacher- he would tell them to fuck off. Everyone knew that meant it had to do with you. He would take shit about anything except for you, they learned. 

But his dad came home early from his business trip. Jake didn’t have time to take the polish off before George Seresin saw his son’s blue nails. He didn’t care much that they matched Jake’s eyes. They ended up matching the bruises hidden across his ribs; the bruises you tended to when he snuck through your window later that night. He didn’t need to go through the window anymore, your mom knew about his “troubles at home” and he was welcome anytime, but it kept up the childlike appearance. 

He had been 13, at the time. Apparently, the nails were too much, because George stopped coming home after that. No one in the town said anything about it, and the Seresins went on like nothing changed. You knew Jake’s mom, Dolly, well enough to know that she wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking about her children, so no one ever did. You were probably the only one who ever saw Jake cry about it; it only happened once when he was the only player on his baseball team not to have a father to throw with. Dolly had searched for hours the night before to find George’s old glove, but it was nowhere to be seen. 

Jake’s older sisters, Violet and Jenny, painted your nails from that point on. You never asked Jake to do it again, and he never brought it up. You were young enough to think that it really had been the nail polish to made George leave, and Jake believed whatever you did. It would be years until you realized that it probably had more to do with the fact that George never loved Dolly, hated his children, and wanted nothing more than to drink himself sober. 

“Angel,” Jake used to call you. Because he’s always thought you’re the most beautiful person. Because it’s what Anakin called Padame, and you had loved Star Wars. Because what else was there to call an angel? When did he stop calling you angel? It couldn’t have been that long ago, right? When did you lose him for the last time? 

When he left for boot camp, you were a senior in high school. It had been unbearable. You wrote him letters sprayed with the perfume he gave you for your sixteenth birthday. It smelled like clean laundry and green grass. You thought it smelled like home. Years later, he would tell you that it did, in fact, smell like home when he was thousands of miles away from you. 

Blue eyes and sandy hair. Dirt underneath his nails and calloused hands. Electric blue skies shifting into a watercolor of purple and pink through gingham curtains at his kitchen window. Mud mixed with twigs to make witches' brew and Christmas sweaters you pretended to hate. That’s how you’ve always know him. When he came back from basic, he was the same, just different. His hair was shorter, cropped close to his head. He’s lost some weight, and the football muscle becoming leaner. Of course, he would grow the muscle back later on; he could never stand not being able to pick you up and spin you around like he did after all those football games. Ironically, his accent grew with time apart. So did his ego, but you expected that. 

The first girl he brought home was the sweetest one. Short black hair and grey eyes, like a thunderstorm. She left after one week with his family, leaving behind a heartbroken Jake. You were the one to help him through it, drinking a bottle of vodka underneath the stars on a wooden fence with barbed wire cutting Xs through the sky. Jake didn’t cry about girls, but she’d messed him up pretty badly. Bad enough for him to be honest with his sisters. Bad enough for Dolly to call your mom and have her send you over with a tray of cookies that Jake never told you he hated. Violet was kind enough to make you her hangover cure the next morning after you woke up with red eyes and a dry mouth in Jake’s bed. Nothing happened, naturally, but you never could convince Violet that. Whenever Jake was upset, it was a family affair. 

The next girls he brought home passed in a blur. As he got older, they got worse and worse. Fake, rich, and bratty. He said he loved them and they would be enchanted by his stories about flying a plane. They didn’t stick around long enough to hear about the parts of him that hurt, though. Not like you did. Maybe that’s why he can’t look at you the way he looks at them. They see the stained glass, you see the breakage it took to make it. 

You never thought it would end like this. 

An engagement ring. Shining in a Tiffany blue box, casting a kaleidoscope of color across the kitchen. A wedding veil, long and draped and crusted with diamonds at the end. White heels with tulle bows on the back. A backyard, down-to-earth wedding, despite the possibility for more. An always-present local violinist rehearsing old country love songs on the porch, a sweating pitcher of iced tea on the table beside him. 

All for her and Jake. 

Dolly’s house is buzzing with energy. Her family and his family all coming together in a chaotic mess of introductions and “how can I help?”s and “I’m good with whatever”s. Jake’s fiancé is the perfect future wife with a steady job and the desire for a big family. From the few times you’ve met her, she seems lovely, and Jake is completely enamored with her. For the first time, you see hearts in his eyes. 

You’re just here to drop off some food- it’s supposed to be family tonight. Dolly invited you, and Jennifer begged you to stay, but they both knew that it was pointless. It’s utterly selfish of you, but you can’t get over the fact that he’s getting married. A cruel part of you tells yourself that you never even tried to get his attention.

You’re meant to be in and out, but you can never say no when Dolly asks for help. You should’ve known she would have an alternative motive when she asked you to get flowers from the back of the barn- it’s been a dead patch for years. 

The sunlight peeks through the stubborn clouds, and his hair moves golden with the wind. He isn’t facing you, but he doesn’t need to for you to be able to recognize the broad expanse of his shoulders or the hanging posture of his head from the way he leans forward over the rotting wooden fence. 

If you were smarter, you would turn tail and run away. Save yourself a night of crying. But you aren’t, and, about him, you never have been. 

He doesn’t look up when he speaks before you get the chance to. “Were you planning on lookin’ or actually coming over to say hello?” 

“I wasn’t looking at you,” you defend, knowing it isn’t true. If he catches your lie, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he asks the question you’ve been dreading. 

“Why aren’t you coming tomorrow?” 

Why, you ask yourself. Why? Because you can’t stand to see Dolly embrace her like she’s a daughter. Because you don’t want to be the only one not smiling at the reception. Because you’ve loved him your whole life, and he doesn’t seem to know. Because she’s lovely and beautiful and you’re the one he used to play dress up with. 

Because you’re selfish and twisted. 

“Angel,” he says. And, no, he can’t do that. He can’t call you that now. Now, when he’s going down the one path you can’t follow. Now, when he’s pretending like he doesn’t know how you’ve loved him since he was eleven. Now, when you’re losing him. “Things don’t have to change. Right?” If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds scared. 

You do know better, though, so you know Jake never gets scared. 

“You know that’s not true,” you respond. The way his grin falls breaks your heart in two. Here you are, standing before him, bleeding out with a smile on your face. Dying and saying the tears are out of joy. “You’re going to be a husband, Jake. I can’t be in the middle of that.” 

“You’re my family,” he tries again. 

“I’m your friend,” you counter. Dolly and Violet and Jenny would disagree, and, honestly, you don’t believe it either. But it gets you through the conversation. “And I don’t think she’ll appreciate my presence. None of the others ever did.” 

“She’s not like that.” He means it, and you know it’s true. She’s been nothing but gracious and generous to you. 

“I know,” you respond quietly. “But I can’t do it. I just can’t. I don’t expect you to understand.” 

He waits a moment before he responds, his eyes looking into yours. There’s emotion in them that you aren’t used to seeing towards you. “I do.” He says it softly, and you almost don’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“I understand. Every time you’ve brought home someone, I feel what you’re feeling right now. The pain. Feeling like some part of you is being taken away.” He reaches up to cup your cheek with a gentle hand. Every part of you screams that you shouldn’t do this; you shouldn’t give him a reason to hate you for years. But you lean into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your cheek. It’s a fight not to beg for more. You do have some semblance of pride, though. 

“It doesn’t matter.” There’s a sad smile on your face and a matching one on his face. No one should look that heartbroken the day before their wedding. “It’s too late.” 

He doesn’t have to say anything; you both know it's true. With a heavy heart, you place your hand over the one cupping your face. There’s going to be a wedding band on one of those fingers tomorrow. It gives you strength to remember that.  

It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done; lacing his fingers with yours only to drop his hand to his side. He accepts the gesture. He lets you go. 

It wasn’t meant to be. He has a new angel now, one that will love him for as long as she can. It’s for the best, you tell yourself as you walk away. 

Blue eyes and blond hair. A little boy with a broken heart and blue nail polish. That’s how you’ll remember him.

[mutatedangels-a]

Have you ever known me to have patience? Or any virtue, for that matter?

A playful scoff left Jamie at these questions. The blonde liked to play tough—and in many cases, she was, with her decked-out punky cane that he'd shamelessly contributed at least two stickers to—but underneath that spiky exterior was somebody soft. She only showed it in nuances that maybe she didn't even pick up on herself, but he certainly did.

"Alright, I digress." He'd let her win this one. She was having a bad day after all.

As she spoke, he reached into his drawer—yes, the same one that held his booze stash—and pulled out a little chocolate candy jar. Each confectionery was wrapped in a different holiday design, going as far back as Easter of that year. Eh, they were still safe.

He wordlessly offered her some with a tilt-down of his head before grabbing something for himself. Sometimes a guilty pleasure did the trick of destressing him. It wouldn't solve her math problem (ha! Get it?) but it'd put a Band-Aid on it.

"Look," Jamie told her, "any good teacher I know wouldn't fail a student who is genuinely trying. And judging by the way you're sweating over this, I'm sure your professor can tell that you're trying. Maybe you won't pass with flying colors, but they always say Cs get degrees. Trust me, you think my brain was ever good at Statistics? No, I bombed that class with a C. And it brought me here."

Alright, maybe his condo in the city would have been a better spot to say something like that in rather than his moody office, but he hoped she got the point. He wore a sympathetic expression that told her she would be just fine. And next year, they'd be laughing about it.

At Tobi's urge to back up, he scrunched his face, tilting his head side-to-side. He really didn't want to go into any more details about the job he'd gotten roped into. "No, it wasn't blackmail. And even if she did, I probably would have let her get away with it if it meant I could skip out on going to the damn thing," Jamie said, chuckling.

"I just figured that if I said yes this one time that she'd leave me alone for the rest of my life." It was rather opportunistic of him and therefore uncharacteristic. The Jamie she knew would probably break a leg before reading out words to some awkward middle-schoolers. Was he turning over a new leaf? "I guess we'll find out if I end up being an idiot."

He crumpled up his candy wrapper and tossed it into a garbage can by his feet, absentmindedly reaching a palm out to grab her own while his thoughts briefly went elsewhere. What was it Mrs. Norman was saying about... needing more volunteers?

A-ha!

"Hey, you know what," Jamie spoke mischievously. He smirked. "If you're so interested in seeing me suffer, you should come. Mrs. Norman's looking for college students to help at the registration table, serve snacks, give the consolation prize participation T-shirt. It's the week after finals, so you can't say you're busy."

Oh, she hadn't hesitated. There was no pause at the door, and one of these days that habit was going to get her in trouble. Tobi let out a startled squeak and covered her eyes, but not quick enough to miss the glance of his midriff. At least he wasn't naked. Wait, why would he be naked in his office?

Wow, finals really had fried her brain. October drew in a breath and finally looked up, confused to see Jamie in a t-shirt, of all things. Was that a...band shirt?

She let out a small, puzzled laugh. Sure, he was cool, but that shirt was likely older than her. And from a concert she just couldn't imagine him attending. To be entirely fair, she never imagined him as a teenager at all.

"Have you ever known me to have patience? Or any virtue, for that matter?"

The sass was present, but the energy wasn't quite there. She was doing her best with what energy she had. It was more than a lot of people were getting out of her lately, to be entirely fair. Finals made everyone weird.

"Glad you didn't get burned alive. I'd have to get a new favorite professor on last minute notice, and I already don't have the time for that."

She smiled a little. Tobi sat cross legged like she frequently did, but she was more tucked into herself, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked up at him.

"Algebra is going to be a problem for as long as I live," Tobi sighed, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

"It doesn't make sense, it's never going to make sense, and I'm only passing that class because of copious amounts of tutoring. And pity, I'm pretty sure." She shrugged, absently digging her fingers into the sleeve of her shirt.

"If I had to take that class a second time, I'd genuinely have a nervous breakdown." Her laugh was humorless at best, a sound that didn't suit her. Tobi bit her lower lip.

"Wait, back up---" She paused, drawing in a breath and finally looking up at him. There was a quirk of her usual smile as she regarded him.

"You, mister cranky sadist himself, in a room of middle schoolers trying to spell words they probably can't even pronounce? This outta be good. I'd pay money to see that if I could trust myself to stay awake through the damn thing." Tobi grinned a little more.

"What'd she do, black mail you?"

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS: Voyage

Percy Jackson X Reader

Another year passed and now they're back as the camp needs them.

Chapter 1: They Ate Y/N

My day started normal. Or as normal as it ever gets at Meriwether College Prep.

See, it's this "progressive" school in downtown Manhattan, which means we sit on beanbag chairs instead of at desks, and we don't get grades, and the teachers wear jeans and rock concert T-shirts to work.

That's all cool with me. I mean, I'm ADHD and dyslexic, like most half-bloods, so I'd never done that great in regular schools even before they kicked me out. The only bad thing about Meriwether was that the teachers always looked on the bright side of things, and the kids weren't always... well, bright.

Take my first class today: English. The whole middle school had read this book called Lord of the Flies, where all these kids get marooned on an island and go psycho. So for our final exam, our teachers sent us into the break yard to spend an hour with no adult supervision to see what would happen. What happened was a massive wedgie contest between the seventh and eighth graders, two pebble fights, and a full-tackle basketball game. The school bully, Matt Sloan, led most of those activities.

Sloan wasn't big or strong, but he acted like he was. He had eyes like a pit bull, and shaggy black hair, and he always dressed in expensive but sloppy clothes, like he wanted everybody to see how little he cared about his family's money. One of his front teeth was chipped from the time he'd taken his daddy's Porsche for a joyride and run into a PLEASE SLOW DOWN FOR CHILDREN sign.

Anyway, Sloan was giving everybody wedgies until he made the mistake of trying it on my friend Tyson.

Tyson was the only homeless kid at Meriwether College Prep. As near as my mom and I could figure, he'd been abandoned by his parents when he was very young, probably because he was so... different. He was six-foot-three and built like the Abominable Snowman, but he cried a lot and was scared of just about everything, including his own reflection. His face was kind of misshapen and brutal-looking. I couldn't tell you what color his eyes were, because I could never make myself look higher than his crooked teeth. His voice was deep, but he talked funny, like a much younger kid—I guess because he'd never gone to school before coming to Meriwether. He wore tattered jeans, grimy size-twenty sneakers, and a plaid flannel shirt with holes in it. He smelled like a New York City alleyway, because that's where he lived, in a cardboard refrigerator box off 72nd Street.

The other was Y/N L/N another friend that was with me through out this journey of being a half-blood. The photo was taken somewhere in a familiar forest, while her clothes that seemed for hiking. I saw a total of three bags behind her and her dog, D/N, curled up on one,  I'm pretty sure I could see a familiar sword on D/N's side. She had a knife on her waist and a headband pulling her hair back. This was the only mail I got from her since she went to venture on her search for his Olympian parent who hadn't claimed her even through out our last quest. At the back it said her search was going well and she was doing great.

Meriwether Prep had adopted him as a community service project so all the students could feel good about themselves. Unfortunately, most of them couldn't stand Tyson. Once they discovered he was a big softie, despite his massive strength and his scary looks, they made themselves feel good by picking on him. I was pretty much his only friend, which meant he was my only friend.

My mom had complained to the school a million times that they weren't doing enough to help him. She'd called social services, but nothing ever seemed to happen. The social workers claimed Tyson didn't exist. They swore up and down that they'd visited the alley we described and couldn't find him, though how you miss a giant kid living in a refrigerator box, I don't know.

Anyway, Matt Sloan snuck up behind him and tried to give him a wedgie, and Tyson panicked. He swatted Sloan away a little too hard. Sloan flew fifteen feet and got tangled in the little kids' tire swing.

"You freak!" Sloan yelled. "Why don't you go back to your cardboard box!"

Tyson started sobbing. He sat down on the jungle gym so hard he bent the bar, and buried his head in his hands.

"Take it back, Sloan!" I shouted.

Sloan just sneered at me. "Why do you even bother, Jackson? You might have friends if you weren't always sticking up for that freak."

I balled my fists. I hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt. "He's not a freak. He's just..."

I tried to think of the right thing to say, but Sloan wasn't listening. He and his big ugly friends were too busy laughing. I wondered if it were my imagination, or if Sloan had more goons hanging around him than usual. I was used to seeing him with two or three, but today he had like, half a dozen more, and I was pretty sure I'd never seen them before.

"Just wait till PE, Jackson," Sloan called. "You are so dead."

When first period ended, our English teacher, Mr. de Milo, came outside to inspect the carnage. He pronounced that we'd understood Lord of the Flies perfectly. We all passed his course, and we should never, never grow up to be violent people. Matt Sloan nodded earnestly, then gave me a chip-toothed grin.

I had to promise to buy Tyson an extra peanut butter sandwich at lunch to get him to stop sobbing.

"I... I am a freak?" he asked me.

"No," I promised, gritting my teeth. "Matt Sloan is the freak."

Tyson sniffled. "You are a good friend. Miss you next year if... if I can't..."

His voice trembled. I realized he didn't know if he'd be invited back next year for the community service project. I wondered if the headmaster had even bothered talking to him about it.

"Don't worry, big guy," I managed. "Everything's going to be fine."

Tyson gave me such a grateful look I felt like a big liar. How could I promise a kid like him that anything would be fine?

Our next exam was science. Mrs. Tesla told us that we had to mix chemicals until we succeeded in making something explode, Tyson was my lab partner. His hands were way too big for the tiny vials we were supposed to use. He accidentally knocked a tray of chemicals off the counter and made an orange mushroom cloud in the trash can.

After Mrs. Tesla evacuated the lab and called the hazardous waste removal squad, she praised Tyson and me for being natural chemists. We were the first ones who'd ever aced her exam in under thirty seconds.

I was glad the morning went fast, because it kept me from thinking too much about my problems. I couldn't stand the idea that something might be wrong at camp. Even worse, I couldn't shake the memory of my bad dream. I had a terrible feeling that Grover was in danger.

In social studies, while we were drawing latitude/longitude maps, I opened my notebook and stared at the photos inside—my friend Annabeth on vacation in Washington, D.C. She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket over her orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a bandanna. She was standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial with her arms crossed, looking extremely pleased with herself, like she'd personally designed the place. See, Annabeth wants to be an architect when she grows up, so she's always visiting famous monuments and stuff. She's weird that way.

The last photo was of both of them. Annabeth sent it to me when she happen to see Y/N when she was with her father. Y/N looked like she had the same clothes from the photo she sent. What was confusing was she didn't have a single bag nor a dog in the photo. Annabeth said something about their conversation and how Y/N still didn't have an idea about her parent. She'd e-mailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself they were real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been my imagination.

I wished Y/N and Annabeth were here. They'd know what to make of my dream.

I was about to close my notebook when Matt Sloan reached over and ripped a photo out of the rings. It was the one with Y/N.

"Hey!" I protested.

Sloan checked out the picture and his eyes got wide. "No way, Jackson. Who is that? She is not your—"

"Give it back!" My ears felt hot.

Sloan handed the photo to his ugly buddies, who snickered and started ripping it up to make spit wads. They were new kids who must've been visiting, because they were all wearing those stupid HI! MY NAME IS: tags from the admissions office. They must've had a weird sense of humor, too, because they'd all filled in strange names like: MARROW SUCKER, SKULL EATER, and JOE BOB. No human beings had names like that.

"These guys are moving here next year," Sloan bragged, like that was supposed to scare me. "I bet they can pay the tuition, too, unlike your retard friend."

"He's not retarded." I had to try really, really hard not to punch Sloan in the face.

"You're such a loser, Jackson. Good thing I'm gonna put you out of your misery next period."

His huge buddies chewed up my photo. I wanted to pulverize them, but I was under strict orders from Chiron never to take my anger out on regular mortals, no matter how obnoxious they were. I had to save my fighting for monsters.

Still, part of me thought, if Sloan only knew who I really was...

The bell rang.

As Tyson and I were leaving class, a girl's voice whispered, "Percy!"

I looked around the locker area, but nobody was paying me any attention. Like any girl at Meriwether would ever be caught dead calling my name.

Before I had time to consider whether or not I'd been imagining things, a crowd of kids rushed for the gym, carrying Tyson and me along with them. It was time for PE. Our coach had promised us a free-for-all dodgeball game, and Matt Sloan had promised to kill me.

The gym uniform at Meriwether is sky blue shorts and tie-dyed T-shirts. Fortunately, we did most of our athletic stuff inside, so we didn't have to jog through Tribeca looking like a bunch of boot-camp hippie children.

I changed as quickly as I could in the locker room because I didn't want to deal with Sloan. I was about to leave when Tyson called, "Percy?"

He hadn't changed yet. He was standing by the weight room door, clutching his gym clothes.

"Will you... uh..."

"Oh. Yeah." I tried not to sound aggravated about it. "Yeah, sure, man."

Tyson ducked inside the weight room. I stood guard outside the door while he changed. I felt kind of awkward doing this, but he asked me to most days. I think it's because he's completely hairy and he's got weird scars on his back that I've never had the courage to ask him about.

Anyway, I'd learned the hard way that if people teased Tyson while he was dressing out, he'd get upset and start ripping the doors off lockers.

When we got into the gym, Coach Nunley was sitting at his little desk reading Sports Illustrated. Nunley was about a million years old, with bifocals and no teeth and a greasy wave of gray hair. He reminded me of the Oracle at Camp Half-Blood—which was a shriveled-up mummy—except Coach Nunley moved a lot less and he never billowed green smoke. Well, at least not that I'd observed.

Matt Sloan said, "Coach, can I be captain?"

"Eh?" Coach Nunley looked up from his magazine. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Mm-hmm."

Sloan grinned and took charge of the picking. He made me the other team's captain, but it didn't matter who I picked, because all the jocks and the popular kids moved over to Sloan's side.

So did the big group of visitors.

On my side I had Tyson, Corey Bailer the computer geek, Raj Mandali the calculus whiz, and a half dozen other kids who always got harassed by Sloan and his gang. Normally I would've been okay with just Tyson—he was worth half a team all by himself—but the visitors on Sloan's team were almost as tall and strong-looking as Tyson, and there were six of them.

Matt Sloan spilled a cage full of balls in the middle of the gym.

"Scared," Tyson mumbled. "Smell funny."

I looked at him. "What smells funny?" Because I didn't figure he was talking about himself.

"Them." Tyson pointed at Sloan's new friends. "Smell funny."

The visitors were cracking their knuckles, eyeing us like it was slaughter time. I couldn't help wondering where they were from. Someplace where they fed kids raw meat and beat them with sticks.

Sloan blew the coach's whistle and the game began. Sloan's team ran for the center line. On my side, Raj Mandali yelled something in Urdu, probably "I have to go potty!" and ran for the exit.

Corey Bailer tried to crawl behind the wall mat and hide. The rest of my team did their best to cower in fear and not look like targets.

"Tyson," I said. "Let's g—"

A ball slammed into my gut. I sat down hard in the middle of the gym floor. The other team exploded in laughter.

My eyesight was fuzzy. I felt like I'd just gotten the Heimlich maneuver from a gorilla. I couldn't believe anybody could throw that hard.

Tyson yelled, "Percy, duck!"

I rolled as another dodgeball whistled past my ear at the speed of sound.

Whooom!

It hit the wall mat, and Corey Bailer yelped.

"Hey!" I yelled at Sloan's team. "You could kill somebody!"

The visitor named Joe Bob grinned at me evilly. Somehow, he looked a lot bigger now... even taller than Tyson. His biceps bulged beneath his T-shirt. "I hope so, Perseus Jackson! I hope so!"

The way he said my name sent a chill down my back. Nobody called me Perseus except those who knew my true identity. Friends... and enemies.

What had Tyson said? They smell funny.

Monsters.

All around Matt Sloan, the visitors were growing in size. They were no longer kids. They were eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, pointy teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes and hula women and Valentine hearts.

Matt Sloan dropped his ball. "Whoa! You're not from Detroit! Who..."

The other kids on his team started screaming and backing toward the exit, but the giant named Marrow Sucker threw a ball with deadly accuracy. It streaked past Raj Mandali just as he was about to leave and hit the door, slamming it shut like magic. Raj and some of the other kids banged on it desperately but it wouldn't budge.

"Let them go!" I yelled at the giants.

The one called Joe Bob growled at me. He had a tattoo on his biceps that said : JB luvs Babycakes. "And lose our tasty morsels? No, Son of the Sea God. We Laistrygonians aren't just playing for your death. We want lunch!"

He waved his hand and a new batch of dodgeballs appeared on the center line—but these balls weren't made of red rubber. They were bronze, the size of cannon balls, perforated like wiffle balls with fire bubbling out the holes. They must've been searing hot, but the giants picked them up with their bare hands.

"Coach!" I yelled.

Nunley looked up sleepily, but if he saw anything abnormal about the dodgeball game, he didn't let on. That's the problem with mortals. A magical force called the Mist obscures the true appearance of monsters and gods from their vision, so mortals tend to see only what they can understand. Maybe the coach saw a few eighth graders pounding the younger kids like usual.

Maybe the other kids saw Matt Sloan's thugs getting ready to toss Molotov cocktails around. (It wouldn't have been the first time.) At any rate, I was pretty sure nobody else realized we were dealing with genuine man-eating bloodthirsty monsters.

"Yeah. Mm-hmm," Coach muttered. "Play nice."

And he went back to his magazine.

The giant named Skull Eater threw his ball. I dove aside as the fiery bronze comet sailed past my shoulder.

"Corey!" I screamed.

Tyson pulled him out from behind the exercise mat just as the ball exploded against it, blasting the mat to smoking shreds.

"Run!" I told my teammates. "The other exit!"

They ran for the locker room, but with another wave of Joe Bob's hand, that door also slammed shut.

"No one leaves unless you're out!" Joe Bob roared. "And you're not out until we eat you!"

He launched his own fireball. My teammates scattered as it blasted a crater in the gym floor.

I reached for Riptide, which I always kept in my pocket, but then I realized I was wearing gym shorts. I had no pockets. Riptide was tucked in my jeans inside my gym locker. And the locker room door was sealed. I was completely defenseless.

Another fireball came streaking toward me. Tyson pushed me out of the way, but the explosion still blew me head over heels. I found myself sprawled on the gym floor, dazed from smoke, my tie-dyed T-shirt peppered with sizzling holes. Just across the center line, two hungry giants were glaring down at me.

"Flesh!" they bellowed. "Hero flesh for lunch!" They both took aim.

"Percy needs help!" Tyson yelled, and he jumped in front of me just as they threw their balls.

"Tyson!" I screamed, but it was too late.

Both balls slammed into him... but no... he'd caught them. Somehow Tyson, who was so clumsy he knocked over lab equipment and broke playground structures on a regular basis, had caught two fiery metal balls speeding toward him at a zillion miles an hour. He sent them hurtling back toward their surprised owners, who screamed, "BAAAAAD!" as the bronze spheres exploded against their chests.

The giants disintegrated in twin columns of flame—a sure sign they were monsters, all right.

Monsters don't die. They just dissipate into smoke and dust, which saves heroes a lot of trouble cleaning up after a fight.

"My brothers!" Joe Bob the Cannibal wailed. He flexed his muscles and his Babycakes tattoo rippled. "You will pay for their destruction!"

"Tyson!" I said. "Look out!"

Another comet hurtled toward us. Tyson just had time to swat it aside. It flew straight over Coach Nunley's head and landed in the bleachers with a huge KA-BOOM!

Kids were running around screaming, trying to avoid the sizzling craters in the floor. Others were banging on the door, calling for help. Sloan himself stood petrified in the middle of the court, watching in disbelief as balls of death flew around him.

Coach Nunley still wasn't seeing anything. He tapped his hearing aid like the explosions were giving him interference, but he kept his eyes on his magazine.

Surely the whole school could hear the noise. The headmaster, the police, somebody would come help us.

"Victory will be ours!" roared Joe Bob the Cannibal. "We will feast on your bones!"

I wanted to tell him he was taking the dodgeball game way too seriously, but before I could, he hefted another ball. The other three giants followed his lead.

I knew we were dead. Tyson couldn't deflect all those balls at once. His hands had to be seriously burned from blocking the first volley. Without my sword... I had a crazy idea.

I ran toward the locker room.

"Move!" I told my teammates. "Away from the door!"

Explosions behind me. Tyson had batted two of the balls back toward their owners and blasted them to ashes.

That left two giants still standing.

A third ball hurtled straight at me. I forced myself to wait—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—then dove aside as the fiery sphere demolished the locker room door.

Now, I figured that the built-up gas in most boys' locker rooms was enough to cause an explosion, so I wasn't surprised when the flaming dodgeball ignited a huge WHOOOOOOOM!

The wall blew apart. Locker doors, socks, athletic supporters, and other various nasty personal belongings rained all over the gym.

I turned just in time to see Tyson punch Skull Eater in the face. The giant crumpled. But the last giant, Joe Bob, had wisely held on to his own ball, waiting for an opportunity. He threw just as Tyson was turning to face him.

"No!" I yelled.

The ball caught Tyson square in the chest. He slid the length of the court and slammed into the back wall, which cracked and partially crumbled on top of him, making a hole right onto Church Street. I didn't see how Tyson could still be alive, but he only looked dazed. The bronze ball was smoking at his feet. Tyson tried to pick it up, but he fell back, stunned, into a pile of cinder blocks.

"Well!" Joe Bob gloated. "I'm the last one standing! I'll have enough meat to bring Babycakes a doggie bag!"

He picked up another ball and aimed it at Tyson.

"Stop!" I yelled. "It's me you want!"

The giant grinned. "You wish to die first, young hero?"

I had to do something. Riptide had to be around here somewhere.

Then I spotted my jeans in a smoking heap of clothes right by the giant's feet. If I could only get there.... I knew it was hopeless, but I charged.

The giant laughed. "My lunch approaches." He raised his arm to throw. I braced myself to die.

Suddenly the giant's body went rigid. His expression changed from gloating to surprise.

Right where his belly button should've been, his T-shirt ripped open and he grew something like a horn—no, not a horn—the glowing tip of a blade.

The ball dropped out of his hand. The monster stared down at the knife that had just run him through from behind.

He muttered, "Ow," and burst into a cloud of green flame, which I figured was going to make Babycakes pretty upset.

Standing in the smoke was my friend Annabeth. Her face was grimy and scratched. She had a ragged backpack slung over her shoulder, her baseball cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, like she'd just been chased a thousand miles by ghosts.

Annabeth punched Sloan in the nose and knocked him flat. "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend."

The gym was in flames. Kids were still running around screaming. I heard sirens wailing and a garbled voice over the intercom. Through the glass windows of the exit doors, I could see the headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, wrestling with the lock, a crowd of teachers piling up behind him.

"Annabeth..." I stammered. "How did you... how long have you..."

"Pretty much all morning." She sheathed her bronze knife. "I've been trying to find a good time to talk to you, but you were never alone."

"The shadow I saw this morning—that was—" My face felt hot. "Oh my gods, you were looking in my bedroom window?"

"There's no time to explain!" she snapped, though she looked a little red-faced herself. "I just didn't want to—"

"There!" a woman screamed. The doors burst open and the adults came pouring in.

"Meet me outside," Annabeth told me. "And him." She pointed to Tyson, who was still sitting dazed against the wall. Annabeth gave him a look of distaste that I didn't quite understand. "You'd better bring him."

"What?"

"No time!" she said. "Hurry! Y/N's on her way."

She put on her Yankees baseball cap, which was a magic gift from her mom, and instantly vanished.

That left me standing alone in the middle of the burning gymnasium when the headmaster came charging in with half the faculty and a couple of police officers.

"Percy Jackson?" Mr. Bonsai said. "What... how..."

Over by the broken wall, Tyson groaned and stood up from the pile of cinder blocks. "Head hurts."

Matt Sloan was coming around, too. He focused on me with a look of terror. "Percy did it, Mr. Bonsai! He set the whole building on fire. Coach Nunley will tell you! He saw it all!"

Coach Nunley had been dutifully reading his magazine, but just my luck—he chose that moment to look up when Sloan said his name. "Eh? Yeah. Mm-hmm."

The other adults turned toward me. I knew they would never believe me, even if I could tell them the truth.

I grabbed Riptide out of my ruined jeans, told Tyson, "Come on!" and jumped through the gaping hole in the side of the building.

Masterlist | Next Chapter

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When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

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𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.  

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”  

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um��� are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.  

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

mango, m | jjk | 1

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story will eventually touch on parental abuse and suicide; suggestive words/actions; mentions of nightmares plaguing the reader; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok and friendly!Namjoon

yes it’s MAMA 2020 JK, it do really be like that

–

You felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Did you do the Chemistry homework?”

You chewed the piece of dried mango in your mouth slowly. You knew that smooth voice. It was hard not to know it. Everyone at this university knew that voice, for better or for worse. You put down the book you were reading for your seminar class – Neuromancer, by William Gibson, translated into Korean. You turned your head, only a bit. Not facing him.

“I’m not about to let you cheat right in front of the professor, Jeon Jungkook.”

You heard rustling, rearrangement, and the seat next to you was suddenly filled with leather and denim, black hair with too much gel in it, and cheekbones higher than your GPA, which was quite high, both weighted and unweighted.

“Come on,” he whined in his deep voice that was not meant for whining. “You always sit in the front now. Move a couple rows back so I can copy.”

You reached into your messenger bag and pulled out another piece of dried mango. Placed the orange fruit in between your teeth and held it there, moving it from side to side. Jungkook was watching your mouth with his dark chocolate eyes. You sucked it into your lips and chewed.

“Why do you think I always sit in the front row, hm?”

You lifted your book again and continued reading, Chemistry homework right in front of you on the lecture hall’s narrow table. You didn’t bother to look up again until the teacher called for attention. Jungkook was no longer sitting next to you.

-

You had your eyes closed, leaning back against the wall, Samsung buds tucked safely in your ears, violins serenading you. Chemistry was going to start soon, but you had gotten here far too early. You wanted to read more of Neuromancer, but the class discussion was going to be on chapters one to three and you were already on chapter ten.

It was a bad habit, but you had many of them.

You felt movement next to you. Opened your eyes.

“You look different today,” Jeon Jungkook remarked. Smirking, with his black hair slicked back, different leather jacket, weird silver-coated pants. Holding his backpack by one strap, far too deflated for it to be containing much. Your messenger bag was smaller, but full of papers shoved into folders.

You tilted your head and reached into your bag. Pulled out another piece of dried mango, sticking it in between your teeth. Turned it around with your tongue, coating it with the sugary outside.

You were wearing a high-necked black dress, long-sleeved with a short skirt. Velvet, patterned tights with thorned roses and black boots with a ten-centimeter platform.

You sank your teeth into the softened mango and sucked it into your lips.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

You closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the professor opening the lecture hall with his keys.

The outfit you wore last Chemistry lecture was an oversized purple sweatshirt and short black skirt, with opaque purple tights and black sneakers.

-

You were standing in the school store, picking up three packs of dried mango.

You brought them to the counter, to the student cashier. She rang you up and handed them back to you. You walked out, shoving them into your bag. Catching the eye of a certain someone.

“You shouldn’t eat so much sugar,” Kim Namjoon teased, nudging you with his arm.

Your eyes shifted to him and you slowly opened a bag. Shoved one in your mouth.

“They’re not that high in sugar,” you replied. “Read the nutrition facts.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Added sugar. Fruit is still sugar.”

“Mother Nature wouldn’t try to kill me.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Um, viruses? Bacteria? Other human beings?”

“Viruses and bacteria are objective. They do not have desires or motivations,” you replied calmly, chewing. “Human beings are an abomination.”

“Still natural.”

“Then ‘artificial’ would have no meaning.”

“Artificial is defined as made by human beings.”

“Human beings are made by other human beings.” You stopped at a door, the seminar class. “The line is blurred.” You opened the door and entered, seeing the ten other students as you sat down in the middle, pulling out Neuromancer. Namjoon sat down next to you, pulling out his dog-eared book, wrinkled from being dropped in puddles. It was a stark contrast to your pristine copy.

“Did you finish reading?”

“Yeah,” you said simply as the lecture began.

-

Today, you wore pants.

Baggy, black, thick denim jeans with an oversized black sweater. A thick black belt, tight around your waist. No graphics. Hair down, too messy to have been brushed. You turned in your Chemistry homework at the front of the class and went to the far right. Sat down next to the wall where you knew the seat next to you was broken.

Last night was plagued with nightmares. You hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. You missed the first bus and, instead of your usual habit of being early, you ended up being on time today. In your book, on time meant late.

Nothing was going right today.

You watched the professor collect the homework.

You looked away, pulling out another book. Prey, by Michael Crichton. It was taking you a while to read this one. You had to look up words. English wasn’t your first language and the book was heavy with scientific terms. You cursed your lack of knowledge. It felt like you were losing some of the meaning by not knowing English well enough.

“I had to look for you today.”

Your nails curled into the softcover of the book.

Jeon Jungkook slid into the seat below you, grinning. Too much slicked black hair, leather creaking as he settled. Eyes dark like a starless sky.

You reached into your messenger bag. The plastic rustled as you felt around. Only two pieces left. Sigh, of course. You pulled one out. Placed it in your teeth. Spun it with your tongue. Jungkook watched, looking up at you. You snapped your teeth into it.

The piece sticking out of your lips fell.

Jungkook’s right hand shot out and caught it before it touched the ground. Ink black tattoos winked at you. Small ones, one of a smiley face with x’s for eyes, one of a heart, another of a king’s crown. One by one, his long fingers curled open, revealing the small piece of dried mango.

You chewed, eyes flickering to his face.

Jungkook smirked and pulled his hand back. He inspected the fruit, the curved part where your teeth had sliced into. Then he popped it into his mouth, eyes shifting to you.

But you were already reading your book, nose deep and ignoring him.

-

“Just let me try.”

You frowned, but held out your hands.

Jung Hoseok, your childhood best friend, inspected your nails. He had a row of tools in front of him. You were in his shabby little apartment. He didn’t attend university. He was a street dancer, sometimes a backup dancer for idol groups. He choreographed for a few lesser-known idols too. You knew Hoseok was going to get his big break soon.

You two rarely saw each other anymore.

He asked last week if he could practice painting your nails. He had odd hobbies like that. Hoseok liked fashion too. He was wearing colorful beaded bracelets, vintage white t-shirt, and loose gray sweatpants. Pink headband and a green hair tie holding up his bangs like a sprout.

The only reason Hoseok was your best friend was because you didn’t have any other friends, thus making him the best by default.

He began to file your long nails.

“Do you have a preferred shape?”

You blinked at him. “I don’t care.”

Hoseok smiled. “I think pointed nails would look good on you.”

“Okay.”

You were still wearing your baggy black jeans. Hoseok’s honey brown eyes went from your nails to your legs.

“Are you okay?”

You gave him a blank look.

Hoseok put down the glass nail file. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend.”

You shook your head slowly. “You’re busy. I think all your hard work will be noticed soon. You’re blowing up on Instagram.”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide. “You made an Instagram?”

“Only to follow you. I haven’t posted anything.”

He gave you a grateful smile. The tiny dimples on the sides of his lips appeared. “Thanks.”

You nodded. The sides of your mouth moved up robotically. Hoseok nudged you, picking up the glass nail file again.

“Don’t pretend smile. I can tell.”

“Sorry.”

Minutes passed. Hoseok blew the filed keratin away gently and wiped your nails with some acetone. He held out the colors. All bright. You picked the violet and he grinned.

“You can talk to me.”

“It’s always the same shit, Hoseok.”

He frowned, painting cautiously. The harsh scent of nail polish filled your nose.

“Even if it is,” Hoseok murmured, trying not to disturb his careful work. “Talking about it will help you vent.”

“Catharsis is scientifically proven to be completely useless and sometimes amplifies the condition.”

Hoseok gave you a displeased look.

“Sorry.”

He sighed at your apology. He had told you many times before to stop apologizing for nothing. You just did automatically. Trained from repeated years of trying not to be a nuisance. Trying not to be there when you were obviously there. Hoseok tapped the purple against his palm, trying to prevent it from getting goopy.

“You can stay here,” Hoseok remarked. “I said you could.”

You shook your head. “You can barely pay your own electricity bill. And you’ll never get laid if you live with a ghost.”

Hoseok laughed. He had a fun laugh, a great one that was real and genuine. “You can joke around.”

You smiled.

Hoseok could always make you smile at least once.

-

Today it was a tight black leather skirt with a baggy white dress shirt. Black tights with a pinstripe design, silver and black ankle boots. Black turtleneck under the white shirt. And your purple fingernails with yellow smiley face nail stickers, done by Jung Hoseok himself.

You had thought about wearing your baggy jeans again, but seeing your painted nails made you change your mind for some reason.

You sat in the front row of the Chemistry lecture hall. Pulled out Prey by Michael Crichton once again, phone handy to look up translations. You had ten minutes.

The creak of leather squeaked next to you. Instantly, your left hand slid down.

You left long fingers encase yours suddenly, stopping you from reaching into your messenger bag. Your teeth sank into your lower lip. The strong fingers held you tight, stroking your knuckles. Slight calluses, filed and well-kept nails.

“I like your nail polish.”

You ripped your hand out of Jeon Jungkook’s grasp. Shoved it into your bag and pulled out a piece of dried mango.

Didn’t look at him.

Just put it in your mouth and chewed, staring straight ahead.

“You look cute today.”

Chewed.

“Did you–”

You stabbed your finger to the desk, taking your book from it. Didn’t say anything.

He copied your homework.

-

“You alright?”

Namjoon stood up as the seminar class ended.

“You were quiet today. Usually, you have a lot to say.”

You placed your papers in your folder mechanically and looked up at him. “Was I?”

Namjoon nodded. “Kind of missed having your devil’s advocate point of view.”

Your head lowered. You stared at your left hand for a second. Remembering the feeling of Jeon Jungkook’s hand clutching yours.

“Have a lot on my mind.”

-

There were no packs of dried mango on the shelf.

None.

You went to the cashier. Asked when they would restock.

“Some guy bought all of them.” The cashier frowned. “I’m sorry. I know you’re the only one who buys them. I’ll reorder and keep extras behind the counter from now on.”

You stepped out of the school store. You only had a few pieces left. You took your phone out of your pocket and checked the nearest grocery store. It was only a few bus stops away. You began to walk out of the student common area, calling the number. Asking if they had dried mango in stock. They did. Could you keep three bags behind the counter? They could. You said you would be over right away.

Black leather right in front of your face.

You walked around it.

It followed you.

You stopped and hung up. Slowly raised your head.

Jeon Jungkook stared at you. He was holding a bag from the school store. It was filled to the brim with packs of cellophane-wrapped dried mango. His black hair was slicked back, eyebrow raised. Eyes so dark that they reminded you of a bottomless pit. No smirk this time. Serious, his dark brows furrowed.

You gave him a black stare. Then you tried to move around him.

He grabbed your upper arm tightly, shoving the bag into your chest. You recoiled, but he grabbed your other arm and clamped it over the plastic. You pushed it back at him and he planted his hand down on your forearm, firmly.

You felt a little tick in your face as a muscle tensed. You did not look at him.

“Call them back,” Jungkook stated. “Tell them you don’t need it anymore.”

Your eyes shifted back and forth.

“I don’t need your charity.”

“Do it.”

His hand was immobile on your forearm, fingers burying in the loose white fabric of your dress shirt. Your other hand held your phone. You awkwardly redialed the number and brought it to your ear. Told the pleasant lady that you found some dried mango, but thank you for holding it. She said it was no problem and told you to have a great day.

Jungkook let you go.

You ran away, clutching the bag.

-

When you arrived to your own shabby apartment, you dumped the packs dried mango all over your bed, a rainstorm of crinkled plastic. You were panting from running. Heart beating so fast you thought you were dying.

You lived in the poor part of the city. The apartments were like coffins, one room, tiny kitchenette with one stovetop, one sink. A tiny bathroom with a shower. No living room, just your twin bed in the center. You lived alone, because your mother worked overseas to pay for you to go to university.

The other parent could never come looking for you anymore.

You stared at the packs of dried mango. Why had he done that? You didn’t understand.

You didn’t understand Jeon Jungkook.

The landlord came by, knocking on the door. You backed away from the pile of mango and opened the front door, seeing the old man’s face.

He smiled at you. Thanked you for paying for in advance. You nodded mutely. He looked past you, at the bed covered in dried mango. Asked you how you were doing, if you were okay. You nodded again, not replying.

The old man smiled at you, somewhat sadly. Pity in his eyes. But you couldn’t speak to him. You couldn’t reply. You didn’t have a pack of mango with you, so you were voiceless.

He told you that if you ever needed anything to let him know.

You nodded, silent.

The old man bowed and let you be.

You closed the door, locked it. Back flat against it, breathless. Winded from nothing. Your eyes flickered to the bed. Something came over you. You stalked over to it. Then you shoved the plastic bags of dried mango away, off your bed, throwing them everywhere. Watching them fall, one by one, tumbling, tumbling, thundering plastic all around you.

You panted hard, staring at your hands. At the purple nail polish, chipping a little.

You wondered when the nightmares would finally go away.

-

You sat in the front row in the Chemistry lecture.

Red skirt, oversized grey sweater. Opaque black tights. Black sneakers.

Staring straight ahead. Chewing on a piece of dried mango.

Trying to hold on.

You hadn’t slept at all last night. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was apathy. In the morning, you had thought about wearing baggy pants again. But those purple nails winked at you, only a few smiley faces clinging on. Hoseok would have told you to wear something nice, if you called him then.

So, you wore a skirt and waited for lecture to start, chewing.

You reached into your bag, fishing for another piece. It wasn’t there. The plastic pack of dried mango was gone.

You jerked your head abruptly. It was being held out to you, from the tattooed right hand of Jeon Jungkook. He stared at you. Dark eyes so intense it felt like hellfire. Hair slicked back with too much gel. Leather jacket over a black shirt.

He did not speak this time.

You tried to take the bag, but he held it tightly. Pried open the opening a little wider, tipping it to you.

You reached in. Grabbed a piece.

Jungkook watched you. In between the teeth. Turning it with your tongue, licking off the sugar. Sucking it in, making it disappear into the pink canal.

He lowered the packet, putting it back in your messenger bag. Took out your book, handing it to you.

He did not speak.

Your hand grasped the softcover copy of Prey. Jungkook kept staring at you. Your eyes went to the book. To the words on the page. Away from Jeon Jungkook and his piercing eyes.  

-

“Did you get compliments on your nails?”

“One.”

Hoseok smiled cheerfully as he gently took off the purple nail polish. It still stank of acetone though. “Oh? Did it feel nice?”

“I don’t know.”

Hoseok tilted his head, frowning. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Your eyes shifted. “I don’t know because I don’t know if it was a genuine compliment or a ruse.”

“Ruse for what?” Hoseok quipped, planting the cotton ball on your nail and holding it down.

You thought of that slicked black hair and those corrupting black eyes.

“Hoseok.”

“Mhm?”

“Why did you suddenly have an interest in painting nails?”

Hoseok paused. His honey brown eyes flashed up to you. Then he looked back down at your hands.

“Because it is a frivolous thing.”

You blinked at him. He wiped your nails clean. He tapped the bottle of base coat, along with a top coat and the same bright colors.

“It is something purely for fun and vanity. It has no real meaning and is only good for self-care.”

“Did you rehearse this?”

He held up the bottle of base coat and frowned at you, closing his eyes and trying to remember the rest of his speech.

“It is something you won’t do for yourself, so I want to do it for you.” His brown orbs found yours. There was something conflicted in those eyes. “I want to spend time with you. I want you to know this. I want you to remember you have a friend when you look at your hands.”

Your lips parted.

“I can’t be there and hold you when you wake up from the nightmares.”

You looked down, down at your lap of your red skirt and grey oversized sweater.

“I know I cannot make them stop. I know I cannot change what has happened to you or make it better.”

Hoseok held your hands tightly, even though you weren’t looking at him. Held you, voice apologetic and hurting for you, feeling for you when you tried so desperately to feel nothing at all.

“But I want you to remember, every time you look at your hands. You have a friend.”

-

“I like your nail polish.”

Your nails were neon pink and green, with small flower stickers. Hoseok said the top coat should keep the stickers on better this time. He was learning. He said YouTube helped.

You reached into your bag, but a piece of dried mango appeared next to your lips. Your eyes traveled up that those well-kept nails and the tan hand with the tiny tattoos, up the leather sleeve, to the slicked-back black hair and angular jaw of Jeon Jungkook. His pink lips had a tiny mole under them. Those dark chocolate eyes stared at you.

“Eat it.”

Your hand reached for it, but he shook his head once.

“Eat it,” he repeated.

You leaned forward, the fabric of your purple sweatshirt bunching. Caught the dried fruit with your teeth, pulled back. Turned it in your mouth. Sucked it in and chewed.

Jungkook seemed satisfied. His eyes went down to your black leather skirt and black pinstriped tights. Black and silver ankle boots. Eyes back up, stopping at your thighs. Then he looked up at you.

And for once you weren’t nose deep in Prey.

You were staring at him.

“Give me your phone.”

You unlocked your phone and handed it to him.

Jungkook found the messenger app and typed in a new message. You watched him. He typed your name into the text bubble and sent it to a number. Then he handed your phone back to you.

You took it.

-

2.

--

masterpost

[sixofpomegranates]

Rain in California - Act 1 - California

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 1 - California🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ |  🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 9.4k

A/N: The music used in this story is not owned by me (obviously) & I used it in the same style that 'Rock of ages' and 'Mamma Mia' used songs. I gave them a different meaning and context. The meaning and context are NOT representing the one that the ORIGINAL ARTIST had.

TW: ANGST, mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, stalking, death by overdose, mentions of OD, passive aggressiveness, arguing,

Songs in this Chapter: La di die – Nessa Berrett Going to Hell | My Medicine | Heaven Knows – The Pretty Reckless

“Spence?”

 Spencer looked up from his book.

Oh, so now he was allowed to talk with them about the case.

Since the briefing they hadn’t talked to him about anything. Spencer had to beg them, to let him work on this case.

He had really felt left out and why?

Because the stalking victim was a famous Rockstar with addiction issues. Spencer was hurt about his team not wanting him to be on the case because of this. Yes, he had struggled with addiction in the past, but he had been clean for over ten years now.

Was this unfair treatment…this distrust in his sobriety, ever going to stop?

It wasn’t like they had cared much about it when Emily had faked her death or when Maeve died, but this, for them, looked like a too high risk? Because there was a pretty girl involved?

He tried his best not to sound passive aggressive when responding.

 “Yeah, JJ?”, with success.

“I asked if everything´s okay.”

“Sure. Why should anything be wrong?”, the blonde shrugged a little, an apologetic look on her face.

“Well the case-“ “It´s just a stalking case. Nothing we haven’t already seen. I actually wonder why we even need to come. The stalker isn’t aggressive and hasn´t hurt anybody. Right now he´s just importunate. The police should be able to catch this unsub themselves.”, he had accidently let a little of his passive aggressiveness slip and Emily, who was sitting next to JJ, looked at him.

“The record label convinced the police to contact us. They seem worried about their artist.”

“From what I know…this girl can take care of herself.”, Luke snickered, earning himself a ‘Come on, really?’-look from Emily. “Sorry, but have you seen or listened to her music? She could probably beat Reid in a fist fight.”

“Just because she´s making rock music, doesn’t mean she´s tough. But we should talk a little about the case, Reid if you ever feel unco-“, he quickly interrupted her with a snappy tone.

“Why, because she´s an addict? I don’t care about that.”, Emily lifted her hands in a calming manner.

“Okay, jeez. Just the way you´re on edge, since the briefing, doesn’t look like you are okay.”, Spencer took a deep breath, trying to talk calmer this time, now almost pleading in tone.

“I-I know. But I´m clean since was twenty-six. I never touched anything again and I don’t feel the need to. I even regulate my alcohol intake, never drinking more than a beer, maybe two glasses of whiskey. Which means, that statistically all of you are at a higher risk, of becoming addicted, during this case, then I am. You guys need to trust me.”, the dark haired woman sighed and nodded.

“You´re right. I´m- We´re just worried. You´re our friend, Spencer.”, she handed him a file. “Just promise me you talk to one of us, if something changes.”

 He nodded opening the file. A picture of [y/n] looked at him. Dark heavy make-up, dark clothing and jet black hair with colorful streaks.

His younger self would´ve been as attracted as terrified of her.

He flipped through the pages. [y/n] [y/l/n]. Twenty-six years old. Stalker since approximately two years. Nothing extremely outstanding for a stalking case…which was kinda outstanding. No letters, no calls, no pictures, no break in, no threats…sometimes she would get random, expensive present delivered to her mansion, but that was it. Given that she was famous, this presents did not even have to be from a stalker.

 “Are we sure there´s even is a stalker?”, Spencer frowned at his own question, Emily shrugged as a response.

“According to the manager, Philip Schuyler, since the first time she played his concerns down, he gets these calls of a man asking for [y/n] and how she is doing. The label didn’t take it serious after he told them, but then the unsub stole the last finished album from [y/n]´s band ‘Shot Monarch’, before it could get released and distributed, also erasing every digitally existing copy. He then called the manager and send the owner of the record label a letter; typed on a computer, no fingerprints; stating that he wanted to be taken serious. Later [y/n] got the USB, containing all her songs, with a dozen white lilies, her favorite, back per mail with an apology letter; stating that she had done nothing wrong and didn’t need to worry, since he could never harm her or her carrier. That´s when the label pushed the police to contact us.”

“Because they are worried about the music…not the woman.”, JJ sighed, shaking her head.

“Well, that´s the industry. At least her manager is worried. Police states that he got himself a gun license after that and tries to be everywhere [y/n] is.”, Luke added.

“Something about that is off.”, Spencer whispered, rubbing his stubbles, before looking at JJ, Emily and Luke again. “There is nothing that indicates a stalker, but every time somebody doubts his existence, he does something noticeable. I know she is famous and that comes with the stigma of having crazed fans as stalkers, but most stalking in general is committed by someone known to the victim, such as an ex-partner or acquaintance. We should check that out.”, JJ nodded.

“It would also be smart if one of us stays by her site.”, Luke quickly raised his hand.

“I volunteer. I- Like- Really! If necessary I´ll sleep in the SUV.”, Emily raised an eyebrow.

“Can it be that you´re a fan? I heard you and Penelope freak out a little over the case earlier.”, a shy smirk appeared on his lips.

“‘Shot Monarch’ has really good music. Since my road trip a year ago, I love their stuff. Penelope actually tol-”, Spencer interrupted him determined.

“I´ll do it.”, Emily quickly shook her head.

“Reid, no.” “Why not?”, his voice got high, making him quickly cleared his throat. “Because-“ “Because she is taking drugs. Do you trust me that little, Emily?”, Spencer snapped at her and she leaned back into her seat. Sure the others from the team were older than him, but he was in his late thirties, and yet was treated like a child.

 “Fine. If you think you can handle it, do it. But stop being so sassy, I hate that.”, Emily looked at look in defeat. “Luke tell him what you know about [y/n] and the band.”, he nodded pulling out his phone.

“Okay so, [y/n] is the lead singer of ‘Shot Monarch’. She´s from a small town in Ohio and came to LA when she was eighteen, to become a singer after going viral. They are a band since five years, the name never really got explained by them, but it has something to do with the butterfly; at least that’s a fan theory I now from Penelope. Plus it makes sense, because [y/n] has a tattoo of one on the back of her hand.”, Luke flipped through some pictures of older man, reminding Spencer of bikers and insurance agents at the same time. Like middle-aged fathers that liked rock but still had a nine-to-five job.

“Hank, the guitarist, was a lawyer before and in a cover band with his high school friends Tom, the bassist, who worked for an insurance company, and Leroy, the drummer, who was history teacher and is also married to Hank. They met [y/n] at an open mic night and even though she´s twenty-six and they are in their late forties, early fifties, they got along so well, that they became a band. That´s ‘Going to Hell’ by the way. One of the more controversial songs.”, Luke pressed play on the video and already moved the lips to the lyrics.

  “Father did you miss me,

Been locked up a while.

I got caught for what I did but took it all in style.

Laid to rest all my confessions I gave way back when.

Now I'm versed in so much worse,

So I am back again, and he said

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I make, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  “The guitar you´re hearing is a classic Hank. That guy knows what he´s doing.”, Luke added, seemingly in his element, reminding Spencer a lot of Garcia when she was excited.

 Spencer nodded and watched the music video, the overall theme was dark and heavy. [y/n] voice was nice, a little smoky and strong, but everything just sounded so angry. Not really his style, although he preferred older, classical music in general over the ‘normal’ things ‘normal’ people liked. [y/n] wore tightfitting latex, while the men from her band mostly just wore black jeans and shirts, sometimes leather jackets. At one time, she was surrounded by snakes, only wearing white lingerie. She was really pretty, red lipstick making her look like a biting version of Snow White. Like a princess that would rather save herself, becoming the villain along the way, before letting someone else save her.

  “Father did you miss me,

Don't ask me where I've been.

You know I know, yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.

I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head.

Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!

And he said

For the lives that I fake, I'm going to hell!

For the vows that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt.

I am sitting on a throne while they're buried in the dirt.

For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  The lyrics and symbolistic in the video mocked parts of the Christian belief system. Such as the bite Eve had taken from the apple, showing [y/n] taking a bite from the forbitten fruit. The last supper and the crucifixion were shown with a dark twist too. This could be a hint of rebellion, to cope with religious trauma, or simply be a way to cause controversy.

“Please forgive me father,

I didn't mean to bother you.

The devil's in me father.

He's inside of everything I do.

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the laws that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I hate, I'm going to hell!

For the lies that I make, I'm going to hell!

For the way I condescend and never lend a hand.

My arrogance is making this head buried in the sand.

For the souls I forsake, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' married to the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

As the video ended Luke took his phone and put it back into his pocket.

“Their earlier stuff had a little more emotion to it, was about heartbreak, suffering and made you feel. This is one of the more recent ones and you can hear that it´s now mostly just stuff like sex, drugs and anger. Most people think that´s because [y/n] writes all of their music and she´s…seen better days…”, Luke sighed, trying to make it sound as polite as possible.

“Because she started taking drugs?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows, but Luke shook his head. “Oh, no. She, according to many rumors and an interview with her father, has taken drugs since she was a teen. But at this point…she just simply seems to have given up, having chosen to not go deeper with her songs anymore. I mean, they still slap. They just don’t slap your heart anymore, you know?”

“Not so nice, when your father talks to the press about your addiction. Could her father be a suspect?”, JJ asked, making Luke shrug and shake his head at the same time.

“Most likely not. He said in that interview that he wishes her the best, but doesn’t want to speak to her again.”, Emily mouthed a silent ‘ouch’, the whole talk about the rockstars private life making Spencer think.

“Maybe that´s part why she´s taking drugs? Often people use them to cope with-“, Emily interrupted him, profiling [y/n] and her substance abuse, quickly.

“Reid. We´re not going there to fix her, just the stalking situation.”, he nodded, knowing that he had a savior complex, always trying to help and save everybody.

“Exes?”, Spencer asked and Luke shook his head.

“Just one is known, Dean Lennox, singer, now married with kids. He and [y/n] were together for two years and according to him it was toxic. Like, always fighting, jealousy, distrust, fear of being left but she still didn’t want him close at the same time, lying. After their last breakup, he told a gossip magazine, he just couldn’t watch her destroy herself anymore. She never commented on it.”, JJ looked at Spencer worried.

“She seems like a handful, are you sure you can handle her alone?”, he chuckled while nodding.

“I´ve been through worse. How hard can it be to watch a twenty-six year old? When she, like Luke said, really doesn’t want anyone close, I´ll just sit on her couch and let her do her thing.”

*****

After landing in Los Angeles and checking into their hotel, the team drove to police station. There already waited a massage for them with an address. It was from the manager, he wrote that he was terribly sorry, but they needed to come to the recording studio, since the band was on a tight schedule all morning. Luke had tried his best, but Spencer could see his excitement through his tough-guy-façade. He, JJ, Luke and Emily took one of the SUV´s and drove to the address.

 The building they entered was large and with great security. Expensive, white marble flooring in the entire entrance hall. They showed their batches to the lady at the front desk and the security, she called somebody and soon a short, pudgy man, dressed in a designer suit walked out of the elevator and up to them. He smiled at them friendly and shook everyone’s hand.

 “Ah, the agents. I am so glad that you´re here. Hi. Hello. I´m Philip Schuyler, the manager of ‘Shot Monarch’.”, Emily shook his hand and pointed at the team.

“Nice to meet you. I´m unit chief SSA Prentiss, those are SSA Jareau, Alvez and that´s Dr. Spencer Reid. He will take on the job as bodyguard for Miss [y/l/n].”, the man scratched his brown hair, avoiding the bald spot on top.

“Yes, uhm, please just call her [y/n]. She really dislikes being called Miss [y/l/n]. We also already have police and security around her house, so I don’t know how important a personal bodyguard is. I really want this case solved and it would be terrible if we would hinder your work.”, Spencer lifted a finger.

“Actually, it would be better if I´m able to stay close to [y/n]. Normal police and security could probably oversee minor details about the stalker, Mr. Schuyler.”, the man waved off.

“Please, Mr. Schuyler was my father. Philip is completely fine. Everybody calls me that.”, he started walking to the elevator and the agents followed him. “Right now the band´s having a little break. After that, we need to record one more song for the ‘live in the studio’-version of their new album, that just came out. Are you familiar with their music?”, they got into the elevator and Luke already nodded.

“Yeah. Really great. Big fan.”, Emily lifted her hand, silencing Luke.

“I´m sorry. If that´s a problem we can-“, Philip laughed, interrupting her.

“Oh, no, no. [y/n] will love that. She likes meeting fans and showing off her music.”

 They got out of the elevator, walked through the little hallway and entered the large double door in front of them. There was the recording studio. A lot of technical things, Spencer didn’t know much of, and a large glass wall in front of it, showing another room.

 The recording room was large, with a black leather couch and beanbags in it and nice, warm, wooden flooring. A drum set was placed on an vintage looking, red carpet and the overall lighting was warm and inviting as well. The door to the room was open and he could hear the three men, from the band, talking and laughing inside.

 “Guys, can you come out for a bit?”, Philip asked them and they looked up, walking up to them. “Okay, uhm, guys, those are the agents from the FBI. You know? The once coming because of [y/n]´s stalker.”, the largest man, a head taller than Spencer, smiled through his long grey beard that contrasted his bald head.

“Nice to meet you then, I´m Hank. That my husband Leroy,”, they shook hands with the dark skinned, skinny man, who in contrast to his husband was cleanshaven, with short black hair and glasses, “and that´s our friend Tom.”, the chubby, white, blond waved at them friendly.

“Why would like to talk with each of you individually, later at the police station, if that is possible.”, Emily said before introducing her team again, also mentioning Spencer´s duty as bodyguard. Leroy grimaced his face.

“Uh, [y/n] will hate that. The girl does not like being babysat.” “I´m not going to babysit her.”, Spencer answered, making Leroy chuckle. “That´s not how she will see it though.”, Hank sighed and put a hand on Spencer´s shoulder.

“Our girl is going through a lot right now. So it would be nice of you, to not take everything she´s saying personally, okay?”

“Personally?”

 Spencer raised his eyebrows. He desperately hoped [y/n] wouldn’t be a bitch the entire time, since he couldn’t promise to not give her a piece of his mind, if so.

“[y/n]´s a little belligerent…Easy to get triggered and then she blows up like a bomb.”, Tom said and JJ cocked her head. “Is the stalking getting at her?”, Leroy shook his head. “Not really. But her mother died a few months ago and since then…little rough patch. She´ll get better. We all hit rock bottom once.”

“Is she going to therapy?”, Emily asked straight forward, making Tom, the chubby one chuckle. “Not since she hit the last therapist a few years ago. We paid his medical expenses and he was nice enough to not sue her. But we are here to help her, once she´s ready to let us.” “Must be exhausting, for you.”, JJ said empathetic and all the men waved off.

“Because of the drugs? No, it´s not that bad. She´ll collect herself. I have seven kids. Four of them are going through puberty right now. Phil has a toddler and Leroy and Hank have three rescue dogs and a couple of snakes. We can handle her.”, Tom laughed and the rest of the men started too.

“And that little stalker…Imma just say, I´m gonna rip him a new one, should I ever get the chance of meeting him. Counts for all of us.”, Hank added with everyone nodding in agreement.

“[y/n]´s a really nice girl and she´s been through a lot. If you´re nice to her, chances are high she´ll warm up to you and you won´t have any problems.”, Tom said to Spencer making him nod.

“And if she doesn’t?”, the tall doctor didn’t get an answer and just witnessed the rockers share a look.

 Nice girl. Drug issues not so bad. Be nice and maybe she´s nice to you. For Spencer all of that sounded like he would have to walk around on eggshells, while she would blast through walls like a wrecking ball. The manager, Philip, checked his watch and looked around.

 “So, where´s [y/n]? One more song and we´re done. Would be great not to hold up the investigation for too long.”

“She went to the toilet thirty minutes ago. We just ate our sandwiches. She said she wasn’t hungry.”, Leroy answered and at the same moment [y/n] walked in.

 Spencer looked at her and for a moment forgot how to breathe. Short, high waisted, leather skirt, low cut, tank top and biker boots, all black, rounded off with fishnet stockings.  [y/n] looked like she had climbed out of a teenagers wet dream. The perfect, little goth-girlfriend. She stretched a little and Philip looked at her.

 “Bonjour, Philly.”, she said with a sassy undertone, while walking up to him and leaning on his shoulder. He was the same high as her, which wasn’t really tall, about 5,4, if Spencer had to guess.

“Hey, where were you?”, the pudgy man asked her.

“Took a nap in my car.”, she booped his nose and gave him a sheepish little smile. Spencer knew she was high. In fact the whole room knew it.

“You drove here?”, Tom asked shocked and [y/n] grinned sarcastically.

“I guess so, else somebody explain to me why my car´s here.”, Phillip patted her shoulder, looking worried as she took four pills out of an orange pillbox from her bag. He gave her a glass of water and she swallowed them. The men from her band looked at her concerned, making her give them a pearly white smile.

“Headache.”, she explained and they only nodded. Spencer couldn’t help but think, that she wasn’t having a headache and even if she had, it was probably a withdrawal symptom.

“You know that I don’t want you to drive when you´re…”, her manager looked at the agents and stopped talking, making her look at them as well.

“What? Why´d you stop talking? That the fun police?”, she started giggling at her own joke, making the band chuckle, since she clearly didn’t know how accurate she was with her joke.

“That´s the FBI, Princess.”, Hank told her and she made a fake shocked face and then laughed again.

“Officer- No wait, agents, right? I swear I did nothing wrong. Weed´s legal in Cali.”

 The team shared some looks and Spencer couldn’t help but roll his eyes. [y/n] was not just on weed. Most definitely not just on weed.

 “They are here because of your stalker.”, Philip explained and she shrugged almost disappointed.

“Oh, that guy. Well, then hello. Nice to meet you. I´m [y/n].”

 She shook hands with JJ and Emily as they introduced themselves. Luke couldn’t help but breathe in sharply, as he shook her hand and almost choked on his own spit as an aftereffect. She started patting his back with wide opened eyes.

 “Shit, you okay? Asthma?”, [y/n] reached into her black, designer handbag and gave him a bottle with clear liquid. Luke took a sip, quickly grimaced his face and began coughing harder.

“Vodka.”, he stated through his coughing. [y/n] quickly took the bottle from him and took a sip too, without flinching. She then started cracking up at her mistake.

“Whoops. Mixed up the bottles, the other´s probably in my car. Philly, can you bring him…?”, Philip nodded and gave Luke a fresh water bottle from the mini fridge.

 Wow. Vodka hidden in a water bottle. Spencer licked his lips, taking in the view of her bandmates looking at each other. ‘Not that bad’ looked different. ‘Not that bad’ would not have her sleeping in her car, midday, with a bottle of ‘water’ and coming back high as a kite. Luke, by now, had stopped coughing and [y/n] stepped away from him again.

 “You good?”, she asked him, watching him wipe away his tears.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry.”, the black haired girl waved him off.

“Nah, don’t worry. I had asthma till I was twelve.”, he shook his head.

“I- I- No asthma. Just a really big fan.”, she started laughing again and although the light was dimmed, Reid could clearly see Luke´s cheeks turning red.

“Oh, that´s cute. But ‘Take My Breath Away’ is by Berlin.”, that sentence actually made the whole room laugh except for Spencer, who didn’t understand the reference. “What´s your name?”

“Luke Alvez.”, she shook his hand again, this time he didn’t almost choke.

“Well, nice to meet you, Luke. What´s your favorite song of ours?”

“25, no doubt. Really amazing. Like a James Bond song.”, the bandmates chuckled.

“We said that too.”, Leroy snickered, patting Luke´s shoulder and [y/n] nodded.

“It´s also my favorite. Excited to hear one of the new songs?”, Luke nodded excited and she turned her head to Spencer. “We both don’t know each other yet. Hi, I´m [y/n] and you are?”

 She sounded quite collected. Clearly high, but able to think straight if necessary. [y/n] must´ve been doing this for a while now, seeming to have figured out, how much she could handle while working. Spencer had been at that point too once. You wanted to do your work and be good at it, but needed to be high, to make it through the day. So you just tried over a period of time, bit by bit, how much you were able to take before doing a shitty job. ‘Not that bad’ didn’t make you figuring out a system to be high all the time.

 “Dr. Spencer Reid.”, he shook her hand.

“Dr. Reid will be your bodyguard, [y/n].”, Philip explained and quickly earned an angry look, as she let go of Spencer´s hand instantly.

“What? I don’t need a bodyguard, we talked about this.”, she hissed at her manager, but then started laughing after looking Spencer up and down. “And then that guy?”, Philip nodded as she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Do not take it personally’, Spencer told himself.

“I am more than capable of protecting you.”, he stated as friendly as possible, making her giggle.

“From what? A difficult math question?”

 [y/n] mocking tone started to piss him off, but as Spencer felt Emily´s look on him, he played it cool. After all, he had to proof himself able to handle her.

 “Your stalker.”, he corrected her and she licked her lips, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, looking at Luke.

“Since you don’t have asthma, would you mind if I…?”, Luke shook his head and she smiled. “Nice.”, she looked back at Spencer, at his gun. “Philip has a gun too.” “But Philip isn’t an FBI agent.”, Hank told her, making her shake her head in protest, like a little child.

“That´s ridiculous. And all of that just because a stranger sends me stuff, people send me stuff all the time.”

“You should be more worried about this guy.”, Leroy said and Tom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what if he´s dangerous?”

“What´s the worst that could happen, like honestly, Doctor?”, she cocked her head at Spencer, looking up at him with an almost flirty smile.

“He could kill you.”, he gave back objectively, making the rockers obviously worried. “Geez. You make that sound like it´s a bad thing.”, she snickered and looked over to Luke. “Luke, wanna hear some music?”, he nodded.

“It would be an honor.”, his sentence made her giggle as she walked past him.

“You´re really cute.”

 [y/n] walked into the recording room, Tom, Leroy and Hank following her. She put on her headphones and lit a cigarette, putting the package on the little table next to her mic. Philip closed the door and started pushing some buttons on the sound mixer in front of him. JJ whistled impressed.

 “You do the technical stuff too?”, he nodded, chuckling.

“Since the stalking started, I try having as little people near [y/n] as possible. Thought it might just be a little crush from a weirdo and when he doesn’t get to see her, he gets over it.” “We need a list of the people that worked here though.”, Emily told him and he nodded.

“Of course.”, then he pushed a button and started talking into his microphone. “You guys, ready? Last song. ‘My Medicine’, then we can go home.”

 They all approved of his words and started to playing. [y/n] relighting her cigarette and clearing her throat. Spencer couldn’t tell if that was her simply not caring or doing it for the feeling of the song. However, it seemed to fit the style.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

“I love this already.”, Luke whispered and JJ chuckled.

“You haven’t even heard anything yet.”, she snickered.

“Doesn’t matter, the feeling is there.”, he lifted his arms, showing her his goosebumps.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

And somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

Spencer watched [y/n] starting to move to the rhythm, swaying her hips and tapping her left foot to the beat, then looked to Philip pressing some buttons.

 “She´s gonna be happy with that one.”, he whispered almost to himself and the next time Spencer looked at the band again, it almost felt like she was attentionally singing in his direction.

“Well I drink what you leak and I smoke what you sigh

See you cross the room with that look in your eye

Got a man to his left and a girl to his right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

She started moving her head in a way that made her long black hair fall in her face, framing her features almost delicately. While Spencer starred and earned some grins from [y/n], he could hear Luke whisper with Emily, who actually seemed to like the music too.

“There's a tiger in the room and a baby in the closet”

The room laughed and Spencer looked confused, having JJ tell him, that it was a movie reference. Sometime he felt like an alien, having such simple references fly over his head. Star Trek or Book references would´ve been easier for him…although he still didn’t know what that ��Twilight’ book was Penelope and JJ talked about a couple of times. Or that other book all the women had talked about in their break….what was it called, ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’? They had told him it was a romance novel, so he just assumed it was like ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.

“Pour another drink mom I don't even want it

Then I turn around and think I see someone that looks like you”

Philip pressed some buttons again, [y/n] now harmonizing with herself.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again again

And somebody mixed my medicine

Again, again, again

Again, again, again

Again, again, again”

The music started to slow down again, just like [y/n] movements, making Luke whisper words in awe.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

Philip and the team applauded as [y/n] took her headphones off and the men put their instruments away.

 “I´m happy with that.”, she said looking at Philip. “You, Philly?”

“Sounded great to me.”, he gave back, happy to answer.

“What about my new favorite fan. Luke?”, Luke quickly pushed Spencer aside to get to the microphone.

“Loved every second of it! Like- Amazing! Really!”, she giggled, throwing her head back and came through the door.

“What about my new guard dog?”, Spencer pointed at himself, not knowing if she was talking about him. “Of course you. So, what do you think, Doctor?”

“I- I don’t really know.”, she raised her eyebrows at his answer.

“Okay? Was it the drugs or just the music in general?”, he felt himself go pale. “Ah, okay. You´re prude, get it. I mean you already have that whole tutor-thing about you, so…Bach or Chopin?”

“Pardon?” “Which one? Or is it Mozart, or the deaf bitch, Beethoven?”, she grinned snarky.

 [y/n] had a mocking tone in her voice, making Spencer feel embarrassed and like he was in school again, when the other kids in high school were making fun of him for not being cool enough. But he was too old to be bullied by a little junkie, who thought she was better than him.

 “I´m surprised somebody like you would even know them.”, her smile vanished.

“Little bitch.”, she snapped at him, stepping closer as he cocked his eyebrows at her. Philip quickly walked between the two of them and smiled.

“So, what are we doing next? The albums done. Taken care of. [y/n] have you eaten something today? You wanna go out for dinner?”

“No, I haven’t and no, I don’t want to, when THAT is around.”, with ‘that’ she clearly meant Spencer.

“Now don’t be grumpy, Princess. You started it.”, Hank told her and she started to pout, shoulders relaxing.

“Wasn’t worth my time anyways.”, she murmured and Spencer felt himself getting proud. This was the first person, trying to bully him, he had stand a chance against.

“So, we´re gonna need you at the police station, if that´s okay?”, Emily asked Leroy, Hank and Tom, who nodded. “And Spencer, you should take [y/n] home and check out her house.” “Mansion.”, [y/n] corrected Emily. “I have a mansion. Worked too hard to have it being called a house.”, Emily only nodded, not letting herself get bothered by her words. Philip nodded, completely ignoring his clients snappiness too.

“I follow you in my car.”, he told Spencer. “[y/n] give Dr. Reid your keys, please.”, she shook her head indignant.

“No. That guy is not driving my car. I´ll drive.”, the whole band now started saying no.

“[y/n], you´re not driving.”, Tom ordered and Leroy nodded. “You´ll get an DUI so quick, it´s not even funny.”, Spencer lifted his hand, waiting for the key. “Oh, come on.”, she groaned, looking at her bandmates like her childish behavior would change their mind.

 A nice sound. An annoying person, not getting what they want. Almost as beautiful as her [y/e/c] eyes, that actually were rather bloodshot, when Spencer thought about it.

 “Should the police pull you over and see that you´re high, they´ll look through your car and I don’t think you want be taking in custody for drug possession, right?”, she handed him her keys and Spencer couldn’t help it and whispered “Thank you”, in the most mocking tone he was able to.

“Fucking cunt.”, she whispered back at him and he just chuckled.

“I´ve been called worse. So your little words don’t hurt me…sorry.”, she then grinned.

“Things like Spencer?”, [y/n] asked him, spitting his name like poison.

 Spencer took a deep breath and watched her go out the door, telling himself to not answer her.

 “Hey, kid.”, Spencer looked at Hank and he just lifted his thumb.

“You held yourself better than we thought you would.”, Leroy added, Emily looking at Spencer concerned.

“You sure you can handle her?”

 He nodded, walking out the door and to the elevator which doors [y/n] was holding open for him.

 “Hurry up, bitch boy! I wanna go home.”

 *****

 Of course the rich, spoiled brat drove an imported sportscar. When Spencer got in, he firstly had to push back the seat, not having enough room for his legs and then tried getting [y/n] to tell him where she lived.

 “Try google, smart ass.”, was her answer and he sighed.

 [y/n] then rolled down her window and grabbed a joint from her glove compartment. Spencer quickly leaned over and snatched it from her hand, making her whine as she tried getting it back.

 “You´re such a bitch. Give me-“, he interrupted her whining.

“No. First tell me you´re address.”, she sat back into her seat.

“Fine. I´ll lead you there.”, [y/n] said, making grabbing motions with her hand and he handed her the joint back. She lit it and smoked out of the window.

 Spencer knew he should have questioned why she gave up and let him win so easily. After ten minutes they weren’t at her mansion, they were at a McDonald´s.

 “You´re fucking kidding me, right?”, he snapped at her and she began to giggle.

“You´re kina hot when you´re angry.”, her flirty grin and the way she bit her lip made him furious, because it was hot.

“What is wrong with you?”, Spencer almost yelled and she leaned back and pointed somewhere. “I´m hungry. Drive-Through. Over there.”

“No.” “Come on. Don’t be a bitch, dog.”, she snickered, resting her feet on the dashboard.

 He looked at her, for a second thinking about simply getting out of the car and leaving, before he could hurt her. Maybe she was really too much for him to handle, the drugs were manageable, but it was her personality that drove him mad, yet he wasn’t someone to give up easily. Cars started to honk behind them.

 “You´re holding up the traffic. I just wanted something to eat.”, [y/n] said, now almost annoyed because she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Spencer took a deep breath.

“Okay.”, she looked at him confused.

“Okay?”, he nodded, pulling into the Drive-Through. He was above this. ‘Give her what she wants, so she´s at least quiet.’

“You win.”

 She started clapping and hugged him, smelling like marijuana and something he couldn’t quite make out. When they came up to the microphone box, [y/n] crawled over Spencer´s lap, forcing him to look and think respectfully. She ordering a bunch of stuff and then looked at him.

 “What do you want? I only have booze at home, so…”, he looked at her a little startled. Was she trying to be nice to him?

“You wanna buy me something?”, she nodded like this behavior was normal to her. “Sure.”

“Surprise me. I never eat fast food, I don’t know what´s good.”

 She nodded and then told the voice from the box to double her order. Sitting back into her seat, [y/n] took out a hundred dollar bill from her purse, handing it to Spencer. When they pulled up by the window, taking their things, the woman in the window nearly lost it when she saw the rockstar, starting to cry. [y/n] was really nice to her and asked her if she wanted to take a photo in the parking lot. Of course the woman said yes and after paying, where [y/n] had left almost fifty bucks as a tip, Spencer had to park and wait till they had made the photo and given an autograph.

 “Okay, now drive before it goes viral. I wanna eat that stuff before it gets cold.”, she told him, taking a sip of one of the milkshakes.

“That was nice.”, she shrugged and then told him her address, telling him she´d scream when they reached it.

 *****

 Lo and behold, no twenty minutes later they parked in front of [y/n] mansion, next to another, more run down car, belonging to Philip. The mansion would´ve made Rossi´s mansion cry. At least twice as big and the property was enormous. In contrast to [y/n], it was very light and minimalistic from the outside and the inside.

 “Most rooms are empty. Too big.”, she explained walking straight into the open living area, that had a large terrace with pool and a view over the Hollywood hills. She put the paper bags filled with food on the large kitchen island and sat on a barstool.

“You could sell it and buy a smaller one.”, [y/n] shrugged and took out a burger, starting to eat it.

“Philip says I´m gonna grow into it.”, she answered, mocking the tone of voice her manager had probably had.

 Spencer watched her type something on her phone and a minute later Philip came into the room.

 “Hey, where were you? I got worried.”, he asked them and [y/n] handed him a salad.

“It´s the one you always have.”, he smiled at her.

“Thank you. You´re so nice.”, she shrugged at his words, not really caring.

“Yours is in here too, dog.”, she now told spencer.

 Ah, yes. She was being bitchy again. Spencer had only waited for it to happen. He said nothing, but walked up to the white kitchen isle and took the bag she pointed at.

 “Milkshake, burger, fries. Fast food essentials.”, she stated, finishing her small cheeseburger and getting up to her fridge, taking out a beer. She held it to Spencer who declined and then to Philip who did the same. “Lame asses.”, she chuckled, opening it and standing at the counter, watching Spencer eat. “So you´re here for…?”

“Technically it would be the easiest for all of us, if I just stayed.”, she raised her brows.

“Staying like, in my house staying?”, he nodded and she shook her head. “No chance. I enjoy my solitude.”

“[y/n]. If it´s easier for the agent and better for you…”, she sighed, opening a drawer and taking out some pills, swallowing them with her beer. “Fucking hell. But don´t expect me to be considerate of you.”, the rockstar told him.

“Should you consume them with alcohol?”, Spencer asked, taking a bite of his burger and she shrugged.

“I´m going to sleep…you guys…do what you want, I don’t care…”

“Do you need me to do your laundry?”, Philip asked and [y/n] shrugged again, it seemed to be her favorite motion. As she walked down the hallways and Phillip yelled after her. “Don’t forget that you have a gig tonight, [y/n]!”

“THAT`S WHY I`M GOING TO SLEEP NOW, DUMB ASS! WAKE ME UP WHEN WE NEED TO GO!”, she yelled back, followed by the smashing of a door.

 “She´s a nice girl.”, Philip said in the middle of the silence, as Spencer took place on one of the barstools.

“Like a car crash.”, the man in his fifties chuckled.

“I know she´s difficult, but in here she´s good.”, he pointed at his heart. “She has suffered a lot of losses in her life.”

“Then, just as a random thought, you should get into therapy before she OD´s.”, Spencer answered sassy.

“I know what you mean. But as long as she doesn’t want help or overdoes it…she has a system.”, Spencer let his head fall back and groaned.

“You know about that fucking thing?” “You too?”, Philip asked back in surprise. “Profiler. Took me no longer than the nap in her car, to figure that out.”

 Yes, a small lie from Spencer, but it sounded better then: Oh yes, I was addicted to dilaudid once. I had a system too!

 “Tell me, how does that train wreck of a system work?”, Philip leaned back from his salad.

“Well, she takes her painkillers in the morning and smokes some cannabis to get out of bed. When we´re touring or she has to be at shootings, interviews or anything else that needs her to focus, she only smokes and takes the pills all day, alcohol in water bottles is a new one though.”, Spencer sighed and thought if he even wanted to know more.

“And when she´s alone or not busy?” “Then she does the harder stuff.” “Harder stuff like cocaine, LSD…?”, Philip nodded. “Nothing with needles though…she´s scared of them.”

“She will not always be, if she continues like that.” “I know. That´s why I do my best to keep her busy. She even has her own recording studio here, knows how to handle everything herself. I thought it might make her spend more time making music than getting high. I also go out with her a lot, to a point where my wife starts to get jealous.”, he laughed bittersweetly. “Have you ever been to Disney World, agent?”, Spencer shook his head. “I take [y/n] there once a week, because she likes it there. I spend more time with her there then with my own daughter.”, [y/n] was famous, no chance people wouldn’t notice her.

“Does she even get to do anything there?”

“Not often. She mostly meets her fans there, but she loves that a lot. She is really sweet to them too, they mean everything to her.”

 That was the first time Philip had said something that was true about [y/n]. She had, not once been mean to a fan. The complete opposite actually. She had been nice and thoughtful, going out of her way to make the woman at the Drive-Through happy and was nice to Luke.

 “I know she was a little mean to you today, but she also bought us food, seeing it as a matter of course. There are two sides to every person, like a coin.”, Like a coin, just that [y/n] sides flipped as quickly like one too. Philip sighed and got up from his barstool. “I´ll show you around a little, if you want to.”

 Spencer nodded, getting up, following the short man around the house.

 *****

 [y/n] had been right.

It was way too big and many of the rooms were empty. When Spencer asked Philip about the necessity of such a big mansion, he told him, that he had hoped to motivate [y/n] to have a family one day. But now the only rooms in use were her bedroom, one of the five guest bedrooms, which Spencer got to stay in, the open living area with kitchen and living room, the recording studio and a little library. The latter made Spencer a little jealous. In the middle of the room even stood a white piano with notes on it. [y/n] also had a lot of books, all dusty, because she never read anymore. He would´ve killed to have his own library…she probably didn’t even value what she had.

 When they returned into the living area, Philip gave Spencer some spare keys, beginning to clean up a little and putting the food in the fridge. [y/n] didn’t lie, when she said, she only had alcohol at home. JJ came over and brought Spencer his go bag, asking him how it was going. Of course he said he was doing great, but couldn’t help but rant to her about [y/n]´s behavior.

 “Well, she is an addict, Spence. You know how erratic some drugs can make you.”, he nodded.

“Yeah, but she really tries pushing me and then, one second to the other, she´s nice and polite. Have you talked to her bandmates?”, JJ laughed.

“Way too long. We had interviews with them and then Luke just couldn’t stop talking to them, he has also taken about a million pictures with them and facetimed Penelope so she could meet them too.”, Spencer chuckled.

“Sounds like they had a good time. Anything else happened? Found out something?”

“[y/n]´s mother was an addict and left the family when she was younger. When she found out her daughter was famous, she got back in touch with her, to borrow money. [y/n] didn’t care and even got her to live with her, in one of the guest bedrooms. She overdosed a few months ago, since then [y/n]´s addiction got worse.”, Spencer´s eyes got wide.

“She didn’t die in the guest bedroom though, right?”

 Just as JJ wanted to answer, [y/n] walked in. Philip walking behind her with a duffle bag.

 “She died in the bathroom and she didn’t overdose perse, she drowned after falling unconscious in the bathtub, while being high.”, she answered cold, seeming to have overheard their conversation. [y/n] grabbed a beer from the fridge and continued calmly while taking some colorful pills. “I found her. The bathroom that it happened in is always locked. Don´t worry.”, Philip fidgeted a little with his hands, looking for his keys.

“Uh-Uhm. Agents? We need to go. The concert…”

“You coming too?”, [y/n] asked, looking at JJ and she shrugged. “We could also invite the cute one…Luke. It´s about 20.000 people so two more won´t hurt…right Philly?”, Phillip nodded.

“You´re all invited. SSA Prentiss as well.”, he said and JJ smiled at them.

“Thank you. That´s very nice, but I´ll have to talk to them first.”, [y/n] shrugged at that and drank her beer.

“You have my number, just call when you know. We start half past eight.”, Philip then took the empty beer bottle from [y/n] and threw it away. “Show time.”

 *****

 Half an hour into the concert Luke had shown up, completely hyped.

 “What did I miss? We had some ex-staff members to talk to. Did they already play ‘Going to Hell’?”, Spencer nodded. “Argh, dammit. Doesn’t matter, that song´s amazing too.”

 During the whole concert Spencer watched [y/n]. The music wasn’t that bad, a little harsh, but it was mix of hard and alternative rock after all. At least that´s what Penelope said, when Luke started facetiming her. After the last costume change, Spencer pulled [y/n] aside. He asked her to not be so ‘touchy’ with her fans. Since she would kneel down and hold their hands. He tried telling her about the risks of having the unsub in the audience, but she only laughed.

 “I´ll be as touchy as I want, bitch.”, he started to frown.

“At least don’t stagedive. Luke says you always do that and the risk of the unsub use-“, she interrupted him, wanting to go on stage.

“Fuck off, dog.”, he held her arm, trying to reason with her.

“Can you ple-“, she tried pulling away, like an angry child.

“No.” “Stop being so fuck-“, [y/n] interrupted him again.

“Stop trying to fucking babysit me.”

“I just want to hel-“, she ripped her arm away. “Yeah, fuck you too.”, the rockstar answered, not letting him finish and walked back on stage.

 Philip walked up to Spencer, having seem the ordeal of him trying to talk to [y/n] and him now  driving the heel of his palm into his eyes. This girl gave him migraines.

 “What happened?”, Philip asked and Luke answered for Spencer.

“He told her not to stagedive.”, Philip laughed a little and shook his head.

“Oh yeah. Never tell her what to do. She hates that and then does it out of spite.”

“You don’t say?”, Spencer answered sarcastically.

 On stage [y/n] took her microphone, saying something to her bandmates and then smiling sweetly, while talking to her fans.

 “This next song is for my lovely new babysitter, who thinks he can tell me what to do.”, the crowd started booing and she laughed. “I know, I know. But it looks like he doesn’t know how things work around here…So I think we have to help him out a little.”

 The music started to play and Luke patted Spencer´s arm.

“She dedicates ‘Heaven Knows’ to you! Penny have you heard? She sings ‘Heaven Knows’ for Reid!”

“NO! SHUT UP!”, the blonde on the phone squeaked.

 He and Garcia started to freak out while Spencer watched [y/n] clapping her thigh and stomping to the beat.

“Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close, you can hear him cry

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Sing it!”

She lifted the mic to her audience she started to sing for her.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below, way down below, way down below

“Judy's in the front seat picking up trash

Livin' on the dole, gotta make that cash

Won't be pretty, won't be sweet

She's just sittin' here on her feet singin'

Oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Go!”

Again her fans obeyed her, Luke and Penelope freaking out next to Spencer. If it wouldn’t have been a moment, were he had to fear which move she had planned next to unnerve him, he might have even enjoyed this song and the involvement of her fans in it.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

“Sing, oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below”

She now looked at him for a moment, while her audience sang. Before, again, walking around the stage, touching her fans hands.

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've had better days, man, I've seen better days

I've had better ways, man, I know better ways

One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door

Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie

Show your life with your head held high

Now you're on your knees with a head on low

Big man tells you where to go

Tell them it's good, tell 'em ok

Don't do a goddamn thing they say”

Spencer was surprised how well her fans knew her lyrics. She would just have to point at them or lift her mic and they would instantly sing were she stopped. Not missing a beat.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've seen better ways, and I know better ways

I've seen better days, man, I've got better days”

[y/n] now stood at the edge of the stage, back turned to her audience. She smiled directly at Spencer, fingers held like a gun to her head.

“Gina's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close you can hear the cryin'”

At the last word she mimicked shooting herself and let herself fall back into the crowd. Her fans got wild and continued her song, while Spencer certainly not in a long time, if ever, felt so much spite and frustration against a woman, other than Cat Adams.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Singin' oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh, Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

The crown placed [y/n] back on her stage, where she walked up to her bandmates again, waving at Spencer and Luke with the sweetest smile.

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

 *****

 After the concert and the encores she and the band got behind stage, where Spencer for the least thirty minutes had waited to give her a piece of his mind. As [y/n] giggled and walked up to him and Luke. He grabbed her arm, a little harsher than planned.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”, she blinked at his yelling, answering with her innocent eyes blinking and a mocking tone.

“What´s the prob, dog?”

“What´s- Do you really care so little for your own safety?”, Hank came up to them, having seen Spencer´s grip on the girls arm.

“Hey! What´s going on here? [y/n], are you okay?”, Spencer quickly let go of her.

“Yeah, the dog is just pissing himself because I stage dived.”, he quickly took a deep breath.

“I´m not pissing myself, [y/n], but I told you not to do it. What would you have done when your stalker would´ve been in the crowd and lost it? Nobody would´ve been able to get to you fast enough and help!”, Hank looked at her in disappointed shock.

“Is that true, [y/n]?”, the black haired girl ignored her friend and just continued arguing with Spencer.

“Well, maybe I don’t want anybody’s help!”, she hissed at Spencer.

“Then why are we even here?”, Spencer hissed back. “BECAUSE I BRING MONEY! Else the label would let me rot in a fucking corner! GOD! You are ruining my after-show-high. I hate you!”, [y/n] yelled and Spencer tried not to yell back, tried to be the bigger person, only hissing back at her.

“Oh, trust me. That feeling is mutual.”, she swallowed hard and then turned around, stomping away.

 *****

After half an hour waiting, Spencer got a call from Philip, telling him that [y/n] refused to see him again and would be sleeping at his house tonight. He told him, that he should just let himself into the mansion and eat what´s in the fridge. It wasn’t from use, to try talking to [y/n], when she was that angry. Tomorrow Philip would call him and bring her back into Spencer´s care.

Spencer did as told, Luke driving him to the mansion, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. He then got into the large, empty mansion and grabbed himself a well-deserved beer. Being alone in this big house was depressing. After his third beer he stopped, walking into his room.

He pulled his blue and gold sobriety token, he had gotten for being clean ten years, out of his bag. Thumb rubbing over the golden X in the middle of it. He actually had deserved a twelve year token by now, but since prison didn’t actively attended the meetings anymore, having grown past it. Yet, he still kept the tokens he had, close to him.

They reminded him of his achievement, reminded him to be proud at himself.

Spencer never wanted to fall back into the dark hole he was in, when he was addicted, and even when [y/n] would throw tantrum after childish tantrum, she wouldn’t cause him to relapse. He was stronger than this. Stronger than her.

To be continued...

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[waitimcomingtoo]

i was just wondering if maybeeeeeee you’d do a fic inspired by the song heather by conan gray with peter

She

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader, MJ x reader

Synopsis: Peter puts his feelings for you aside to help you with your feelings for something else 

Warnings: pinning, mentions of homophobia, Flash being gross but supportive

Listen to this song because it’s lovely! Thank you anon for introducing me to it!

Peter was woken up by you tiredly shaking his arm. He slowly opened his eyes to see you with unkempt hair rubbing your face. He sat up in your bed, still in his clothes from the night before. A textbook fell off his lap with his movements and hit the floor with a thud, making you both jump.

“We overslept.” You said as you stretched your arms. Peter looked at his phone and saw you had ten minutes before first period, not before taking a few moments to admire the way you looked in the morning. He smiled a little to himself as you hastily ran a brush through your hair and couldn’t help but imagine a lifetime of mornings like this.

“Did we fall asleep studying?” He asked as he hopped off your bed and fixed his hair in the mirror. You smacked his butt and giggled as you walked past him to get to the bathroom.

“I guess so. You should text May and tell her why you never came home.” You said before giving quickly brushing your teeth.

“Okay.” Peter yawned as he typed out the text. “Damn. I don’t have time to go home and change before school.”

“Here. Just throw this on.” You tossed your debate team hoodie at him. “We gotta go.”

You and Peter made your way to school, you grumbling the whole way about how much faster you’d get there if he would just swing. He laughed, having had this conversation with you many times in the past.

“We should just try it. I bet we’d get to school in ten seconds flat.” You pointed out as Peter quickly threw some books in his locker.

“My identity will get exposed in ten seconds flat too. How about that?” Peter replied and you sighed. He hated saying no to you, his mission in life was to forever keep you happy, but this was one thing he couldn’t give you.

“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.” You folded your arms. Peter couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Nice hoodie, L/n.” Flash taunted as he slapped Peter on the back, breaking him out of his daze.

“What?” Peter asked in confusion.

“Check the back of that hoodie.” Flash pointed at him. Peter looked over his shoulder and saw your last name printed at the bottom of the hoodie.

“Relax, Parker. I think it’s cute that you wear your girlfriends clothes.” Flash teased. “You know, Y/n always looks so good in that red skirt. Maybe borrow that next?” Flash laughed at himself before walking away. You scoffed at his comment but Peter was still hung up on him calling you his girlfriend. It was a common mistake people made, but it never failed to catch Peter off guard.

“Who cares what he says?” You shook your head once Flash left and straightened out the hoodie. “It looks good on you, anyway.”

“Really?” Peter asked timidly.

“Better than it ever has on me.” You laughed. Peter opened his mouth to say something until he saw your gaze shift to the left. He heard your heartbeat speed up as a faint blush painted your cheeks.

“Hey MJ.” You said as MJ walked back. She gave your a smirk and nodded her head.

“Hey L/n. And hey, other L/n.” She said in regards to Peters hoodie. Peter gave her a right smile and turned his attention back to you. To his surprise, you were still watching MJ walk down the hall, only turning back around when she was out of sight.

“She’s funny, isn’t she?” You laughed lightly. “She’s in my physics class this year. I have a total friend crush on her.”

“If you wanna be her friend, then go talk to her.” Peter said as you began to walk towards homeroom.

“Are you kidding? She’s way too cool to be talking to me.” You shook your head and Peter frowned.

“Y/n, there’s no one cooler than you.” Peter said sincerely. “She’d be lucky to be your friend. Just talk to her.”

“Maybe.” You chewed your lip as you reached your classroom. “All right. I’ll see you in calc.”

You gave Peter a short hug before heading into the class. He watched you as you left, a content smile on his face before leaving to go to his own homeroom.

The following week, you sat in your physics class, staring at MJ with your head leaning on your hand. She began to look in your direction, so you quickly looked away.

“Alright class. It’s lab day. Partner up.” Your teacher announced. Before you could look around for a partner, you heard someone drop their books on the desk next to you.

“Hey.” MJ said as she took the seat beside you. “Since you like staring at me so much, do you want to be partners? I think I look better close up.”

“I wasn’t staring at you.” You quickly stammered, feeling your face heat up upon getting caught.

“Right.” MJ laughed. “And I don’t support women’s rights.”

You gulped and moved your stuff onto the floor, focusing all your attention on the lab. MJ watched you, studying your features as you read through the directions.

“Hey, Y/n?” MJ nudged you and you looked up at her, pupils dilated from how close she was. Close enough to see the sun reflecting off the honey colored highlights in her curls.

“Yes?” You said softly.

“You know how I knew you were staring at me?” She leaned in even closer and you froze.

“How?” You asked and a smiled tugged at the corner of her lips.

“I was already staring at you.” She said casually. You stared at her blankly as she took the lab from you and read it over. You made normal conversation for the next ten minutes, slowly feeling more comfortable in her presence. She was funny, funnier than she let on.

“Can we close the window?” MJ asked suddenly, running her hands over her bear arms.

“Sorry, Michelle. We have to keep the windows open when using these chemicals.” The teacher told her. MJ reluctantly nodded and shivered a little in her seat.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you scribbled down a formula.

“I picked the wrong day to feel the bern.” She chuckled, pulling a little at her short sleeved Bernie Sanders t-shirt. You hesitated for a moment, then reached into your backpack for your debate team hoodie.

“Here.” You offered it to her. She looked between you and the hoodie and gave you a small smile before taking it.

“Thanks, babe.” She said as she slipped it on. You let out a nervous laugh at the nickname and gave her a once over as she went back to work. It wasn’t long before she left you staring at looked you at you. “What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head and quickly went back to the lab. “I just never see you in bright colors. Especially not sky blue.” You said after a moment, taking in how small she looked into your hoodie. The sight of her in your clothing sent a wave of emotions through you that you didn’t recognize.

“There’s a reason for that.” She leaned in close to you as if she were telling you a secret. “There’s an ongoing rumor that I’m a witch and my wardrobe really solidifies the theory.”

“You don’t have to wear it if it messes with your reputation.” You laughed at her reason but hoped she wouldn’t take the hoodie off.

“Like I would ever pass up the opportunity to wear a pretty girls hoodie.” MJ scoffed. “Besides, Michelle L/n suits me. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Totally.” You bite back a smile and went back to the lab, sneaking a few more glances at her the rest of the period.

Peter found you at your locker at the end of the day with a strange smile on your face.

“Did I see MJ wearing your hoodie just now?” He asked curiously as he approached you. You stopped putting your books away and looked up.

“Is she around?” You asked as you looked around the hallway.

“No, I passed by her locker.” Peter said as he eyed you carefully. Your behavior today was strange and unreadable. It didn’t help that the sight of MJ in your hoodie, the same hoodie you previously leant him, was bumming him out. He felt cold without it, and a little jealous. Yes, he had hoodies if him own, but he preferred the warmth of the ones owned by the girl he liked.

“Oh.” You said in disappointment. “And yeah. She was cold during Physics so I gave it to her. She tried to give it back but I insisted she wore it the rest of the day.”

Peter tried not to let it bother him. It was just a hoodie, after all. Some polyester didn’t mean a thing. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but think that giving your hoodie to MJ neutralized the romantic intentions behind you giving it to him. He had been the one to encourage you to talk to her, but now he feared she was replacing his spot as your best friend.

“Since when are you and MJ friends?” He asked, hoping the answer would erase his fear.

“I don’t know. Since today, I think.” You laughed to yourself and shrugged. Peter nodded, content with your answer. You and Peter had been best friends for 13 years. One day of friendship with MJ wasn’t a threat in the slightest.

Even if she was wearing your hoodie.

“Is she as weird as people say?” Peter wondered.

“No, no she’s incredible. She’s funny and she’s got a really beautiful mind.” You suddenly caught sight of her down the hall, a small smile crossing your face. “Not a bad outside either.” You said quietly.

Peter kept his gaze on you, watching your eyes as she walked by. He noticed the way your eyes followed her until she disappeared into the crowd, mesmerized by her every step. And he noticed the little sigh that escaped your lips when she did.

“Yeah, total sight for sore eyes.” Peter said, never taking his eyes off you. He wasn’t sure what had happened between you and her, but it definitely kept him up that night.

It wasn’t long before MJ started hanging around. You still gave Peter just as much attention as you did before, which Peter appreciated, but you gave her a lot of attention as well. Peter was never alone with you at your locker anymore, always in the company of MJ as well. He noticed things about your friendship with MJ that were different from his friendship with you. She was often seen carrying your books or resting her head on her shoulder, things Peter wanted to do with you but couldn’t because he wasn’t your boyfriend. You seemed to be affectionate with MJ on a more intimate level, and Peter chalked it up to you both being girls. There was something about being a girl that gave MJ an advantage over Peter. He knew he didn’t have competition with MJ on the romantic front, but it still got to him every time she held your hand or wrapped her arms around your waist and left them there. He didn’t understand why she could touch you like that just because she was a girl.

But Peter tried to push these feelings away and be happy for you. He didn’t mind you having other friends and he actually liked MJ’s company. But he didn’t love sharing his best friend all the time. There were something about the way you talked about her, it looked at her, or touched her, that didn’t sit well with Peter. Something that was consuming him but he couldn’t quite explain.

“His tests are nothing like the notes. When did we even learn about this?” You said in tears as you pointed to a section on your calculus test, the very test you just failed.

“We didn’t. He’s just an idiot.” Peter said softly as he rubbed your back. He knew how much you struggled with the class and how much it upset you when you couldn’t grasp a concept.

“He’s an idiot, but I’m the one who’s not gonna get into college because I failed calculus.” You let out a shaky breath and crumpled up the test.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s one test.” MJ said as she reached across the table and placed her hand over yours. Peter watched as you smiled a little at her touch and nodded. He looked at MJ, who was busy staring at you in a way guys usually did. In a way Peter usually did. Peter furrowed his eyebrows at the wheels in his brain turned. Did he have competition on the romantic front? He didn’t know much about MJ. He knew she was a bit of an outsider and her sexual orientation was outside his limitations of knowledge about her. He also knew she was eyeing his best friend right about now and it was giving him a weird feeling in his tummy.

“I think MJ was checking you out.” Peter said as he walked you home. MJ, thankfully, lived in the other direction and gave you and Peter a chance to be alone.

“Really?” You snapped your attention to Peter. “When?”

“Back there, in the library. She was practically drooling over you.” He laughed, expecting you to laugh too. You didn’t, instead, smiling and touching your fingers to your lips.

“You’re not messing with me are you?” You turned to him and he shook his head.

“Why would I make that up?” Peter asked you and you shrugged, the smile still evident on your lips. “Do you want her to be checking you out or something?”

You fell into a silence as you continued walking.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly. You looked at Peter to see his reaction, and he gave you an understanding nod. The way you felt for MJ was different than anything you had ever felt. It scared you to death, but excited you at the same time. You liked her a lot, you just didn’t know how much.

You didn’t know. That wasn’t a yes or a no but it wasn’t something Peter was gonna pressure you to decide.

“Okay.” He said, all allowing you to say as much or as little as you liked.

“Okay.” You said, the smile in your face due to Peter this time. “I’ll see you later?”

Peter nodded as you pulled him into a hug.

“See you later.” He said, watching you as you went into your apartment. He wasn’t entirely sure what your answer meant, but he had a a feeling that you didn’t either.

Things didn’t change until the following week.

“This concludes our Fully Alive unit of health. I hope you all were able to take something from it and can use what you learned to have a healthy relationship with your future husband one day.” You health teacher announced as you concluded the unit on relationships. You had spaced out somewhere around the first slide and passed notes back and forth with MJ the rest of the period.

“Mrs. Barnum?” MJ short her hand up, eliciting a murmur from the class. She was know for starting debates, especially in health class.

“Yes, Michelle?” The teacher said, little wearily.

“What if you like girls?” MJ asked as she stared right at you. You didn’t hear the reaction of the class, you didn’t hear anything at all actually. The corners of your vision darkened and turned black as you passed out in the middle of health.

“Here.” A water bottle was handed to you as you sat on the bleachers. You looked up to see MJ and felt your face go pale. You were ordered to get some fresh air after you fainted and the bleachers were the first place you could think of to go. There was one period left of school, and you knew MJ was ditching that period to be with you.

“Oh, thanks.” You gave her a tight lipped smile and accepted the water bottle. You toyed with the wrapper as she took a seat next to you.

“So, you hit the floor pretty hard.” She chuckled and you let out a groan.

“I know. I’m so embarrassed.” You buried your face in your hands. You had no idea what caused you to faint, most likely the panic of MJ’s confession in health. It was different before you knew she liked girls. There was less pressure to figure out if you felt the same.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be. Everyone hits the floor at one point or another.” She wrapped her arm around you shoulders and rubbed your arms, making you lean into her. “And that presentation was totally boring. I don’t blame you for passing out.”

“I’m so immature. I’m sure Peters gonna be running out here any second and I’m gonna have to explain to him what happened. And I don’t even know what happened!” You exclaimed, looking up at the sky in defeat.

“What’s the deal with you and Parker anyway?” MJ asked. For the first time, she seemed unsure of herself. She usually assertive tone was gone and she sounded vulnerable.

“Peter? He’s my best friend.” You shrugged, not knowing what he had to do with the conversation.

“That’s not what I heard. Everyone I asked said you were dating.” MJ told you. You smiled a little at the thought of her asking people about you.

“People have thought we were dating since we were five. I don’t get it. If we were gonna fall in love, I’m pretty sure we would’ve done it by now.” You sighed, ever growing tired of the rumors around you and your best friend.

“Then who has turned that pretty little head of yours?” MJ asked and you felt yourself blush at her compliment.

“No one.” You said quietly.

“Yeah. Pretty slim pickings at this schools.” She said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. You looked at her curiously, wondering if you said the wrong thing.

“Yeah. That, and high school boys suck.” You tried to lighten the mood and it worked.

“Well, that’s a given.” She laughed. “The girls are cool, though.” She said, giving you a once over.

“Yeah, girls are really cool. I mean, the girls here are cool.” You stammered. “But yeah, the boys here are total idiots. I saw Flash give himself a wedgie once and livestream it. He said he wanted to live like the less fortunate.”

“High school boys are a different breed.” She clicked her tongue.

“Tell me about it.” You said as you took a sip of the water bottle.

“Good thing I’m gay.” She remarked. You spit out your water and began to choke on it. MJ laughed as she patted your back.

“I’m so sorry. I promise I’m not homophobic or anything, that just caught me by surprise.” You apologized as you wiped the water off your chin.

“It’s cool. I’ve seen plenty of homophobia in my day, babe. Spitting out your water is not something I take offense too.” She assured your, using her sleeve to dry your face.

“Cool.” You said, relieved that you didn’t just blow your chance with this girl.

“What’s up? You’re not usually this quiet.” MJ nudged you. Your heart pounded as you felt everything coming to a head.

“I’m sorry. You just make me kinda nervous.” You admitted while you kept your eyes down.

“Why? Because I’m a big scary lesbian?” She joked.

“Because you’re beautiful.” You said sincerely as you looked up at her. She stopped smiling and raised her eyebrows slightly. You looked away again, fearing you just ruined everything you had with her.

“You’re kinda beautiful too.” She said after a beat of silence.

“You think?” You asked timidly. She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know. Why do you think I’m always observing you?” She pointed out. “I love the way you act when you think no ones looking. I practically die every time I see you pretending to fix your hair so you don’t get called on. It’s like, as soon as the teacher ask something, you jump a little and start braiding your hair. I adore it.” She laughed to herself as he laced her fingers through yours.

“I like the way you always say what you’re thinking.” You told her, in light of her confession. “And I like honest you are.”

“I like honesty. I value it above all.” She informed you. Your gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips, back to her eyes. She swallowed a little and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Can I be honest right now? Since you like it, and all?” You asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the mood.

“Of course.” MJ encouraged you.

“I really like it when you hold my hand.” You lifted your interlocked hands and held them to your heart, wrapping your other hand around hers. She looked at your hands and smiled to herself as you put them back down on your lap.

“I like it too.” She told you, and you felt the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Can I be honest again?” You asked, your leg bouncing a little as you worked up nerve.

“Go ahead.” MJ nodded.

“I honestly wish you’d kiss me right now.” You said as you looked her in the eyes. MJ smiled a little before leaving in a kissing you, using her free hand to keep your face in place. You kissed her back, tasting her spearmint chapstick before pulling away.

“I’ve honestly been waiting for that for the longest time.” She smiled against you lips and gave you another quick peck. You sighed happily and let out a shaky laugh, a little flustered but never happier. Not wanting the moment to end, you took the relationship further.

“Hey uh, I have a coupon for two free sandwich’s at Delmars. Would you maybe wanna get something to eat? With me?” You asked, still nervous to ask her out even though you just kissed.

“I’d love too.” She said as she pulled you up from the bleachers. “But we’re not using that coupon. I’m paying.”

“Why?” You asked curiously, shouldering your backpack as she picked up your books.

“I always pay on the first date.” She replied, kissing your cheek before leading you off the bleachers. You followed behind her with a dopey smile, all while holding her hand.

Later that day, Peter heard a panicked knocking at his door. He threw his phone on the bed after his fourth attempt to call you and opened the door, finding a very red faced you.

“Y/n, I was so worried.” Peter said as he pulled you into a hug. “Ned told me you fainted in health. What happened?”

“I’m fine, I swear.” You assured him before you let out a shaky breath. “I gotta tell you something.”

“Okay.” Peter furrowed his brows and closed they door behind you. He could hear your heart beating faster than it ever had and he worried that something had happened.

“Peter, I think I’m in love.” You admitted. Peter froze, his heart speeding up to match yours. Was it finally time for you two to take the next step and admit your feelings for each other. Peter kicked himself for waiting as long as he had, but at least it was happening now.

“Oh yeah? With who?” He smiled coyly, taking a step closer to you.

“With someone I really shouldn’t be into. Like, really, really shouldn’t be into.” You ran your fingers through your hair and Peter began to wonder what the big deal was.

“Why not?” He asked. “You can’t help how you feel.”

“But it’s all wrong Peter. I’ve never done anything like this, before. I thought I just liked their friendship at first but they way their brown eyes stared into mine started giving me butterflies, and I found myself constantly wanting to play with that curls and I just…” You covered your face with your hands and shook your head. “It’s just really confusing.”

“I know how you feel.” Peter put his hand on your shoulder, smiling a little to himself as you described him.

“You don’t.” You looked up at him, almost in tears. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, beginning to think this wasn’t the conversation he thought it was.

“I… I don’t know how to tell you this. I don’t know what to say, or how to explain.” You began to panic again and Peter took you by the hands, grounding you.

“Just say it, Y/n. You know you can tell me anything.” He said gently. Your bottom lip began to tremble and a tear fell down your cheek.

“But I love you more than anyone and if this changes how you see me I won’t be able to take it.” You cried and Peter pulled you into a hug.

“I love you too, and that’s why nothing will change the way I see you.” He said as he stroked your hair. You hugged him back tightly before letting go.

“Promise?” You asked.

“Promise.” He said as he wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“I like somebody.” You admitted, and his hope went back up.

“We’ve established that.” He chuckled. “What’s his name?”

You stared at Peter for a moment, heart racing and short of breath. You looked into his eyes, the eyes of your best friend, and made a decision to trust him.

“Her name is MJ.” You said slowly.

It didn’t have the affect on Peter that he thought it would. The girl he’d been in love with for ages just said she was in love with someone else, a girl for that matter. But something in Peters brain told him that whatever he was feeling could be dealt with later. It wasn’t time to get upset. It was time to make sure his best friend was okay.

“You like MJ?” He asked softly, squeezing your hands.

You nodded and your eyes filled with tears. Peter immediately pulled you into another hug and let you cry for a moment as he processed what you told him. He pulled away and held your face between his hands, looking you in the eyes.

“You thought that could change the way I saw you? The fact that you like a girl?” He chuckled softly at the thought.

“I didn’t know how you’d react, Peter. I mean, you read all those horror stories about parents kicking their own children out for things like this.” You whimpered and Peter shook his head.

“I know. But I’d never treat you like that, okay? You’re always gonna be safe here.” He promised.

“Thank you.” You pulled him towards you and kissed his cheek, letting you lips linger to communicate how much you appreciated his words.

“Come here. Sit. Let’s talk about this.” He said as he pulled you to his bed. You both sat down and he handed you a box of tissues. “Why are you so upset?”

“Because I like a girl, Peter.” You said as if it were crazy. “I had no idea I could do that. I grew up thinking I’d meet a prince and get married in his castle. I didn’t even know girls could like girls until Flash showed us that video Freshman year.”

“Let’s not talk about the video.” Peter closed his eyes and held up a hand.

“This is really scary for me, Peter.” You said quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m straight. My family, my friends, even me until recently. My parents never talked to me about this stuff. I feel like I was always expected to end up with a man. And now, I don’t know if I can. I love MJ. I love her the way I’m supposed to love boys. And that scares the hell out of me.”

“I know this isn’t something I can relate to, but I understand what you’re saying. You’ve always thought you were one thing and know you know you’re not. And that’s okay.” Peter rubbed your knee gently. It killed him to hear you say that you could never be with a man, but he knew this wasn’t the time or place to discuss that.

“When did this start?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I always thought I just liked being her friend but I started thinking about her before I fell asleep, and right when I woke up.” You smiled a little to yourself at the thought of her. “I hate physics but I started looking forward to that class everyday because that’s when I got to see her. Getting to talk to her for 40 minutes was the best part of my day, you know? I could listen to her theories on mind control for hours. I just liked hearing what she had to say.” You shrugged and toyed with a tissue. “She was absent one Friday and I was pissed off all weekend. I asked myself why I was so upset that I didn’t get to see her, and it hit me. I like her.”

“Does she like you back?” He asked, feeling his mouth dry up as he awaited the answer.

“Yeah, she does.” You smiled happily. It killed Peter to hear but he smiled anyway. “We just went on a date at Delmars. She held my hand under the table the whole time and when she walked me home, she kissed me. She kissed me before, too. I thought I was straight this morning and now I’ve kissed a girl. Twice.”

“What did you do?” Peter asked, repressing the feelings that came up with your every word.

“I said goodbye and ran straight to your apartment.” You chuckled.

“Okay. Maybe not the best move, but I’m sure you’ll be able to redeem yourself.” Peter assured you.

“Hopefully.” You nodded. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to throw at you.”

“It’s okay.” He promised you. “I’m just processing that you like a girl.”

“It’s not just a girl, Peter. You know how you always tease me because I’ve never had a crush on anyone?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He recalled all the times he was more than happy to hear that you still didn’t like anyone.

“I think it’s because I was always waiting for it to happen on a guy.” You realized. “But being with MJ has made me realize that I’m just not into guys. I like girls. I think I always have.”

“You think you’re gay?” Peter asked and you sighed.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready to label it just yet. But I know I like MJ. And I know I’ve never had romantic feelings for a boy, even when I tried too.” You told him.

“Tried too?” He tilted his head. You but your lip and took Peters hand.

“I used to lie awake at night, just asking myself over and over why I didn’t want to date you.” You admitted. Peter kept his face neutral as he waited for you to continue. “I mean, you’re sweet and funny and caring -look at you- you’re the most handsome boy in the world.”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes.

“You are! I have always thought that.” You insisted and he blushed. “I love everything about you. I love your company, your opinions, all of it. I would spend everyday with you for the rest of my life if I could.”

“That’s how I feel, too.” He said softly.

“And yet, we never dated.” You shrugged. “We never got together like people wanted. For the longest time, I thought there was something wrong with me for not being able to like you like that. No matter how close we got, no matter how perfect you were, I just didn’t feel it. I think this is why.”

Peter looked down, taking everything in him not to cry. You had unintentionally given Peter the worst news of his life. You loved him, you always had, but you could never be with him. All those nights he spent lying awake, wondering if you were thinking of him. You were. Just not the way he hoped.

“Please say something.” You said in relain se to his silence. He took a deep breath and went on autopilot.

“I love you, Y/n. And I hope this works out for you. She seems like a great girl.” He delivered.

“She is. And you’re a great friend.” You got emotional again and pulled him into a hug. He hugged you back as tight as he could. This obviously wasn’t the last time he’d ever hug you, but it was the last time he’d hug you and wonder what it meant to you.

If only you knew how much he liked you. If only you knew how much this conversation killed him. It wasn’t your fault, and he knew it. He just happened to fall in love with a girl who also liked girls.

“Thank you for accepting me. I love you, Peter.” You said before pulling out of the hug.

“I love you too. Now get outta here. Go talk to your lady.” He nudged you playfully and your stood up.

“I’ll call you later?” You asked before you stepped out of his bedroom door.

“Yeah. Later.” He nodded and you left.

“Bye, May.” He heard you call.

“Bye, sweetie. Take care.” He heard May’s voice before his front door closed. He went into the living room where May was and stared silently at the door, the smell of your perfume still lingering in the air.

“I really like Y/n. I’m glad you two stayed friends all these years.” May said as she straightened up the pillows.

“Yeah. I like her too.” Peter said, keeping his voice low to keep it from breaking.

“Why don’t you ask her out, Peter? You guys are together all the time anyway.” May asked, looking up at Peter and immediately sensing something was wrong.

“I can’t. I’m not her type.” He looked at her, tears now his eyes. The tears he had been holding in since you arrived.

“What makes you say that?” She said, crossing the room to meet her nephew.

“I’m a boy.” He said as he broke down. All the emotions he had been repressing came out at once. He was happy for you, but he has never been further from happy for him. He slid down the wall and May rushed to him.

“What?” She asked, picking up his face to make him look at her.

“She’s into MJ, May. She just told me. And I never got a chance to tell her that I-“ He cut himself off with a sob.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.” May cooed as he pulled him into a hug.

“I love her, May. But she can never love me back. It’s ruined.” He sobbed into her shirt.

“It’s not ruined, Peter. You’re still her best friend.” May assured him.

“I want to be her boyfriend. And now that’s never gonna happen. I didn’t even know she liked girls.” Peters body heaved as he cried.

“Did she know?” May asked, this confession being news to her. “That she likes girls?”

“She said she’s still figuring it out but MJ is the only person she’s ever developed feelings for.” Peter managed to say before letting out another sob.

“Then this must be a really confusing time for her, Peter. She’s gonna need her best friend.” May picked up his face again. “I know this hurts you, but you have to think about how Y/n is feeling. She’s gonna need someone to talk to about this.”

“How am I supposed to listen to her talk about the girl she likes when I’m in love with her?” Peter asked. “And I can’t even hate MJ. She makes Y/n really happy. I just wish that were me.”

“You make Y/n happy too. Just in different ways.” May said soothingly. “This is one crush, Peter. I know you love her, but you have to be okay with watching her with someone else. Y/n may grow up and never think of MJ again. But she’s always gonna remember her best friend.”

Peter let Mays words resonate with him all the night, and carry over into the next day. He had to be able to look at you without crying. He had to be there for you, no matter what it meant for him. He repeated the conversation with May over and over in his head as he put his books in his locker.

“Hey.” He jumped a little when he heard your voice behind him.

“Hey, you.” He said causally, eyes still dry.

“MJ asked me to be her girlfriend last night.” You told him quietly, not wanting other people to hear. It stung Peter but he kept a smile on his face.

“Did you say yes?” He asked, the polite thing to do.

“I did.” You broke into a smile. “We’re not telling people because, you know-“

“Homophobia.” You and Peter said at the same time.

“Exactly.” You chuckled. “But I had to tell you, being my best friend and all.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n. I really am.” Peter kept his voice steady. He was determined to mean those words one day. A sad smile appeared on your face and you looked at your hands.

“Peter, I’m so lucky to have you in my life. The conversation that we had in your bedroom meant everything to me. Thank you.” You said tearfully as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He rested his arms around your waist and hugged you, no longer the girl he was pinning after but the girl he had to let go.

“Of course, Y/n. I’m here for you.” He said as you pulled away from the hug. These words, he did mean.

“Love you.” You told him as you squeezed his hand.

“Love you more.” He smiled. He watched as you walked away, smile fading as MJ caught up to you. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, the shoulders that bore your hoodie once again. Peter swallows thickly, suddenly feeling a chill down his spine.

That’s how it was for the rest of the year as you and MJ continued to date. You let a few more people know as the months went on. Some people were cool about it, some were not. The people who weren’t always got paid a visit from Spiderman to set them straight. Peter would watch you two together as he died inside. He was happy for you, he was. But that didn’t keep him from looking away every time you kissed her.

Flash, on the other hand, had no problem staring at you two as you gave MJ a kiss on the cheek.

“What is this? Are you two dating or something?” Flash pointed between you and her and laughed. Peter heard this conversation from across the hall, also hearing your heart speed up. If Flash knew, he’d tell the whole school, and you weren’t ready for that. Peter made his way to where you were, already seeing the terrified look on your face.

Coincidentally, Flash saw it too.

“Hey, relax. I’m only kidding.” He said softly when he noticed the scared look on your face. “I may be an asshole, but I’m no homophobe. Me and my right hand love lesbians. Isn’t that right, right hand?”

“Leave us alone Flash. Don’t you have to be disgusting somewhere else?” MJ jeered.

“Not until 4.” Flash retorted. “And I told you I was kidding. Don’t tell me you two actually together?”

“So what if they are?” Peter said as he approached Flash, pushing him back a little. “At least they know how to get girls.”

“Oh! That’s gotta burn, Parker. I’d roast you but it looks like you’ve been through enough, losing your girl to a girl and all.” Flash laughed but Peter didn’t let it affect him. “Ladies, don’t worry about this. Your secret is again weigh me. But if you ever want to get flashy, give me a call.” Flash said to you and MJ as he made his hand look like a phone before leaving.

“I hate him.” You sighed as you watched him leave.

“He’s not worth our time.” MJ reminded you as she took your hand in hers. “Thanks for sticking up for us, Parker.”

“Anytime.” Peter nodded, feeling proud of himself for getting rid of Flash.

“We have a physics lab to bs. See you around.” MJ patted his back and lead you down the hall.

“Bye Peter.” You gave him a quick hug before catching up to your girlfriend. He smiled as he watched you leave. At least that didn’t change.

“Bye Y/n. Bye MJ.” He called after you.

For the first time since you started dating MJ, Peter didn’t feel the rock in his tummy at the sight of you. He was used to seeing you in the arms of another by now, and it didn’t bother him the way it used to. It made Peter wonder if he was honest all the times he said all he ever wanted was for you to be happy. He did want you to be happy, but he wanted you to be happy with him. But Peter was different now. His outlook changed. As long as there was a smile on your face, maybe it didn’t matter who put it there.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines  @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @thegr8kush  @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @probablyparker @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx

[nitannichionne]

If He Was Your Fan, Chapter 61: Britainization, Part 2 (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 61: Britainization, Part 2

Henry announces that he is driving you and Stella to a place for breakfast. You and Stella are both relieved you got dressed up a bit. The name Lanes of London Mayfair is a big indication that you should. You are dressed in a fluffy burgundy fisherman’s sweater and black leggings with brown riding boots, looking ready for a day of shopping but not at the gym. Stella is in a white shirt and beige jeans with dark brown sports jacket and ankle boots. You are happy you left your usual athletic gear behind.

After that, Henry takes you and Stella to a place that is not even listed.

“Henry?”

“Hmm?”

“I looked up London Trench,” you tell him. “They are online orders only, aren’t they?”

“For the general public, yes.”

You and Stella look at each other. She looks excited but you feel sick for some reason.

With a knock on the door, and Henry telling his name and time on the intercom, you are buzzed in. You step into a boutique that almost looks hidden.

“Mr. Cavill?” a woman bows.

“Hello,” he nods. “This is my lady and her friend. My lady needs a few trenches.”

A few? Did he say few? A few trenches was like…rent money! You look at him incredulously, and he only gives small smile.

“Must make it worth their while,” he shrugs.

Within an hour you are in selections called the Queen Classic, a straight cut, and the Goddess, an A-Line for dresses. You opt for the Goddess, and he takes you to Burberry’s for something shorter and surprisingly more expensive than that. You are cringing inside, and Henry hasn’t flinched. He is happy to see you try on coats. You feel the looks of the sales people at both stores. Face to face they are amicable and friendly, but you see the looks in the reflections of the mirrors when they do not think they’re looking. They don’t think much of you, maybe they think you’re a flavor of the month? Maybe it’s all in your head?

“Well, that’s that,” he sighs. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “yeah.”

“Sweetheart?” he says slowly, his blue eyes searching yours.

“I-I didn’t realize they’d be so—”

“Good coats are required here, love, I won’t have you getting sick,” he nods, tipping your face up for a quick kiss.

You nod and smile in understanding.

“Alright, you two, don’t get into too much trouble,” he winks. He gets in his car and is gone.

“Gotta be at work today by four for the dinner rush,” Stella said brightly. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s just hit a mall or something,” you say. “and we can’t go someplace Henry would.”

“I know, the places he took us!” Stella laughs. “He’s…he’s kinda out of it, isn’t he?”

“Childhood weight problems aside, I don’t think he realizes how hard it is out here, no!” you laugh back. “Experience is the best teacher on those things.” You get slightly serious. “I hope he never suffers like that. No one should.”

You both decide to go to Victoria’s Secret several blocks away, opting to start walking off that massive breakfast you just had. When you arrive, you ask for what they have in emerald green.

“That his favorite color?” Stella asks.

“No, it’s actually blue,” you say. “hey do you have any blue green?”

“Hold on, let me see what we have,” the clerk smiles and leaves to check.

“You seem to buy a lot of that stuff,” she says softly. “Do you wear it?”

You are looking on a rack, but you are thinking of the previous night:

“It’s tomorrow,” Henry said softly and pinned you against the door to kiss you.

You instinctively put your arms around him, welcoming his kiss, his touch. You raise your leg and he semi squats to help you wrap it around him. You both pulled at each other’s clothes hungry to feel skin to skin, your kisses passionate and breathy. You pulled your sweater over your head as he wrapped your other leg around his hips, kissing your chest and licking the skin between your breasts that your bra left exposed. He carried you up the steps to your loft bedroom and laid you on the bed, pulling your jeans off. He smiled at your navy blue bra and panty set. He returned to kissing you, and you pull at his sweater as he unbuckles his belt, slid it off and threw it carelessly on the floor. He slid his jeans off, and stood in nothing but boxer briefs that did not hide his arousal. He crushed you into the sheets and you arched to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him…

“It’s a lot easier to always wear bra and panty sets,” you joke softly.

“How many do you have?”

“Uh….I really don’t know?” you answer honestly.

After getting lingerie and clothes, you catch the tube to Angel Central Mall, and do some shopping there. You feel terrible that there isn’t time for a mani pedi, so you find a massage place that does shoulders and neck, promising to do a pamper session on another day.

As you both make your way back to Brixton, you look at the sights out of the window, try to remember the exchanges. You are so grateful to Stella for being your friend, smiling at her as she steals a nap during the ride home. You notice that some young people are staring at you. You sigh. You may be recognized, you have to get used to that.

Back in Brixton, walk back to your building together.

“There were people staring at you?” Stella gasps “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“There was no danger,” you tell her smoothly.

“Why haven’t you posted yet?”

“What?”

“Why haven’t you posted yet?”

“I post all the time—”

“Never pictures of yourself, though.” Her eyes narrow. "And never of you and Henry."

“Even before I dated Henry, I never posted much about my love life online,” you shrug. “My s/o’s asked to take pictures, so I didn’t deny them, but I’m not big on my love life on social media. Special occasions or requests sure but—”

“I get it, you like that your relationship is between you and Henry, not you, the world and Henry.”

“Yeah, it’s more intimate that way,” you smile. “I have pictures of Henry and me on my phone. Besides, it’s lots easier if there is a breakup.”

“Breakup?!” Stella chortled. “Break up? You and Henry? I don’t think so.” She pauses and turns you around in mid walk. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. He has no intention of letting you go.”

“I know,” you nod. “I’ve had the rug ripped out from under me before, that’s all.”

“You have?” she asks. “How bad?”

“Engaged,” you shrug, earning a small gasp from Stella. “he thought the ring on my finger, though not the marriage one, meant he could treat me any way he wanted. He cheated, he lied…it was like he thought the commitment gave him carte blanche to act up.”

“That’s shitty.”

“Yeah,” you shake your head. “Rings can be a symbol of love that will never end, but for some it is ownership or cuffs.”

“Kinda dark, there.” she says softly. "I don't think Henry is--"

“Sorry, it’s in the past, and I’m over it, but I learned that commitments mean different things to different people.” You take a deep breath. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way, Stella.”

“What do you mean?”

“The last time I was in love was my ex-fiancee,” you tell her. “and that was a long, long, time ago.”

“So you are in love with Henry!” she cheers.

“Yeah, of course, I am!” you laugh at her. “He’s intelligent and fun, has a good degree of common sense. He’s a natural leader and he is protective of and warm to those he loves. I need that, all of it. I have never felt so safe before, never..”

“He’s not bad looking either!”

“His looks can only go so far,” you shrug. “I’ve dated men who were good looking, even a model and an athlete. You’d be surprised how little that all matters if they are thick or coldhearted. Or even worse, a man with money who thinks he can treat you any way he wants because he buys you things--”

“Thick.”

“Yeah…” you giggle, realizing you’re using a British term. “thick.”

You both drop your stuff and go back to Market Row, Stella to work and you to do more shopping. Upi check out some of the surrounding stores, hoping for some really special finds that could liven up or make you feel more unique.

You finally make your last huge purchase: a bicycle. You head to Brixton Bikes for that, and get the lights, the helmet, anything you need. Strapping your bags to the rack in back and no longer a single walking moving target, you head home.

Just as you get a good stride on, your Bluetooth starts to play the instrumental version of “Addicted to Love.” You smile, clicking on. “Hey, love.”

“Hey….are you out and about?”

“About to head home,” you say.

“By yourself?”

You don't miss the edge in his voice. “On my new bike,” you tell him. He is quiet. Ooh, that’s not good. “Sounds like you’re in pub.”

“Yeah, yeah, very good, I'm at the pub, " He says. You can hear the smile in his voice for not using the word bar. "just for a pint with friends,” he says. “I just wanted to see how your day went.”

“Pretty well, but we didn’t have time for spa,” you say. “but I did find some nice things.”

“Good, glad to hear it,” he says. “I’ll stay on till you get home.”

“Awwwww.” Some men sigh dramatically in the background.

“Shut up!” Henry laughs.

You talk until you are safely inside your studio. “Alright, I’m locked up tight.” You feed Luna.

“Good,” he exhales. “they say it isn’t safe for women—”

“I am a moving target now, Henry.”

“Alright, alright,” he exhales heavily. “Talk to you later?”

“Definitely,” you sigh, sitting on your couch and starting to unpack your purchases. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” He purrs, earning another round of catcalls from his friends. He laughs.

“Good night.” You shake your head at him and his friends.

“Good night.”

The first forty eight hours in your studio have been anything but calm, but now there is quiet. After unpacking your things and washing them for wear, you finally get ready to go to sleep. You take a shower and make your way up the steps to bed. It suddenly looks too big to you. You suddenly notice there is something under your covers. You pull them back and find the t-shirt he wore under his sweater last night. You squeal and throw off your nightshirt, trading it for this one. His scent surrounds you as you pull it over your head and you fall on the bed, your impact setting off the scent of him in your bed. You inhale with a smile as Luna jumps up and sleeps at the foot of the bed opposite you, where she usually nestles by Henry’s feet. You look at each other and you sigh dreamily, closing your eyes and letting sleep claim you.

BULLETIN: With this new beta thing, I may have to start a new master list. I will be sure to put the link to 1-60 if I do. Love you, thanks for your support and especially for your comments, likes and reblogs. You truly give me life, people, you really do.

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​ @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @angelcavill66 @marantha

[sevsnapeposts]

Snapetober Day 5: Apple orchard.

hello, this one was a bit hard t imagine, but it was oh so fun to write. i love interactions between severus and the other professors. please, feel free to read it over in ao3 if you'd like, and also if yoou'd be kind enough, go give me some kudos over there. thanks, hope you enjoy~.

Day 5 - Apple orchard.

--

Hogwarts was a college of the highest prestige, and as such it had a reputation to uphold. One could doubt its safety, the responsibility professors had in handing out certain punishments to students, and even the expertise of said professors themselves (people pointed to Remus Lupin, although honestly, Lockhart was the blackest sheep ever), but there was something that could never be reproached: The quality of the food.

From mashed potatoes to the most elaborate cake to all kinds of drinks, every meal at Hogwarts was a pleasure. Elves cooked everything to perfection, and if it weren't for a certain professor, everyone thoroughly enjoyed the cooking. Much of it was due to the quality of the products, all being the best of the best, natural and fresh. The elves gathered the very first harvest at the end of the summer holidays, leading to the Great Banquet, the best dinner of the year in the opinion of the vast majority.

And speaking of it, it was primordial to get things done. This year they would have Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as guests, and Hogwarts couldn’t disappoint.

Somewhere in the castle, Dumbledore had an idea.

"I seem unable to understand why we had to come".

Severus hated many things: teenagers, the smell of wet dog, physical contact, Potter, Potter's godfather, Potter's father, and lately Lucius for nagging him about going to see the Quidditch World Cup. But if there was one thing Severus hated more than all those things put together, it was the sun. Especially the summer sun. He had nothing against the nice hot, light-filled days of that time of year, as long as he could be tucked underground, in the sweet, cold shade, surrounded by water and silence and not a drop of sunlight.

Unfortunately for him, the poor man was walking along with all the other Heads of House, and Dumbledore of course, under the tireless and exhausting gaze of the major star. They were on their way to an apple orchard, the one that supplied Hogwarts and where the elves would appear in a few hours. It had occurred to Dumbledore that it would be a fun outing for the five of them, and Severus couldn't have disagreed more, but everyone else was largely ignoring him, determined to have some fun.

In any case, Severus felt his face hot, certain that his pale skin was quite flushed, which bothered him even more. He looked at his companions, for a second envying how fresh they all looked: Pomona was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, while Filius was wearing some sort of scout outfit that gave him an almost, almost , funny look; Minerva, on the other side, was wearing a dress that reached below the knee, white with small flowers of different colors that made her look much younger; even Dumbledore had changed his usual outfits that (in the young professor's eyes) looked like pajamas to a pair of shorts from which his slender legs peeked out, the long beard braided to keep it out of the way. The only one who had steadfastly refused to change was Severus, who wore his capes and capes of clothing black as the abyss, and thanks to which he was slowly dying of heat. Not even the cooling spell he had cast on himself could do much more than keep him from perspiring.

But he didn't care. He had a reputation to uphold, for fuck's sake.

“Because it's fun!”, Dumbledore exclaimed. Severus walked between him and Minerva, as usual, while Pomona and Filius walked a bit ahead, marveling like little children at every damn plant in the field. “Also, I know you love our summer vacation expeditions and activities”.

Severus didn't reply, but he shot him a cold, unamused look, as for the last time they'd been out on ‘summer vacation expeditions and activities’ he was almost eaten by a dragon.

"Come on Severus, chill", Minerva chimed in, pulling a hat from her enchanted purse. It was huge and colorful, clearly not one that she would ever wear herself. The woman looked at him with almost sadistic amusement. “Look what I got you! It should help you cool down a bit”.

"No thanks", said the young man, looking listlessly at the hat. He noticed that it also had a cleat that was attached into a bun at the back.

He didn't even want to imagine the teasing if word got out. If they had already been unbearable about Longbottom's grandmother’s outfit...

"Tsk, you're going to get a heatstroke at this rate, and neither of us are going to carry you", the professor reproached him, handing the hat to Dumbledore for examination. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I have that much luck”.

With another annoyed snort, the group decided to ignore the miserable man again, opting instead to go ahead with the other two teachers. Severus noticed that Dumbledore had put on the hat he was wearing himself and barely had the strength to not snort.

A short time later they reached the top of the hill, where the orchard was. The orchard was somewhat visited, so the landowner had hired some workers to properly care for the people coming and going. At the moment, two young witches were waiting for them standing there, with shorts and shirts tied mid-torso, and thin, light-toned capes tangled around their shoulders and falling to the ground.

Severus was tempted to petrify one of them and change clothes.

The girls welcomed them, very animated, and provided a basket to each one, as well as a tablecloth so that they could sit and watch the sunset if they wanted to. Dumbledore thanked them kindly, and Severus finally put on Minerva's hat when he heard one of the witches comment that smoke was coming out of his head. Minerva laughed at him.

"Shut up".

What had started out as a simple and boring day picking apples ended up being a visceral competition to see who put more fruits in their respective basket after Dumbledore bet 5 galleons that he would be the one with the most. Severus had been in the middle of all the mess, watching as Filius sneakily enchanted apples to fly from Minerva's basket into his own while Dumbledore helped him by distracting the Transfiguration teacher; how Pomona ‘accidentally’ tripped over the headmaster's basket, and in the process of helping him pick them up she took a load of them with her; how Minerva would transform twigs into fake apples to add to her collection.

He hadn't participated in their affairs, of course, because he thought it was the stupidest thing in the world, but he didn't hesitate to gossip to others, starting an argument that ended in apples flying through the air and more than one trampled basket.

Now it was dusk, the ravaging sun being only a bright half disk out on the horizon, slowly fading away. The five teachers had already cleaned up their mess by then, and were sitting on the red and white checkered tablecloth, relaxing after their pitched battle. The only basket that was left intact and capable of carrying apples was Severus', so this had been placed in the center of the group so that anyone could reach out and grab one of the fruits. No one was surprised that Severus was the only one who didn't want to eat one, despite Minerva's scolding look.

But still, the man had already overcome his annoyance, although he wasn’t going to show it out of pure pride. He told himself it was because the damn heat was finally subsiding, which meant he was already able to take off the stupid hat; it had nothing to do with how hilarious he thought the professors' quarrel was, having so much fun with it that he often didn't even realize he was smiling, and that by the end of the day he didn't even remember that he was hot.

"What are we going to do? There are so many! I think if I eat one more I might as well explode”, Pomona complained, who by then had already eaten at least 5 apples. No one could blame her, as they were very sweet, firm without being too harsh, and so juicy that one ran the risk of getting both chin and chest dirty.

How Dumbledore didn’t get his beard dirty, nobody knew.

"The elves will take them to the castle when they come to collect the others. For now, we can leave them with those young ladies”, Dumbledore replied, biting his apple as he gazed at the horizon. Severus noticed how he shot him a sideways glance and braced himself for the worst. “By the way, Severus, I think you... caught the eye of one of them. The redhead, Lauren. Maybe you should go talk to her”.

Severus grimaced, trying to ignore the howl whistles the other teachers were making, as well as Minerva's elbow, which had dug into hir ribs as the woman taunted him.

He already had enough with being one person's crush.

"I think it’d be a better idea if you paid me the galleons you owe me", he replied, sitting upright. The other adults exchanged glances before making heated comments.

"And why would we give you something?".

"I wasn't serious about the bet...".

"You weren't even participating!".

"The way I see it", Severus said, raising his voice above the others, sure that he looked much more serious than the rest as he was the only one with enough dignity to still wear wizard clothes and not Muggle rags, "Dumbledore said whoever had the most apples in the basket was the winner, and the only basket I see is mine”.

"That's because you refused to participate!" Minerva growled, arms folded. Her eyes sparkled.

"I refused to cheat. I had fewer apples than you, but since they have to be in the basket and not in the memory… For instance, victory is mine”.

"That doesn't make any sense, Severus!", Pomona cried. The man waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“If all players on a Quidditch team break their brooms over petty arguments during a match, would the opposing team be denied victory when only they are left in the air?”, he argued.

There was a heavy silence whilst the others, again, exchanged glances. And then, between reluctance and curses, his four companions searched their pockets and gave him the agreed galleons. Even Dumbledore looked dumbfounded. Severus didn't comment on it, but everyone noticed that his expression was much more smug than before when he reached out to finally eat an apple.

Minerva wasn’t about to be left with such a bitter loss.

"I bet Lauren would like to see that face on you”.

“Oh bloody hell Minerva, do shut up”.

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is tough right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately, following the path of the straight and narrow is difficult when you have a first ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was going to be easy. New experiences, new interests, new friends...what could go wrong...right? (It’s all cute at first until the smut shatters it...not right now though ;) )

Chapter 1: Welcome, Y/N

Content warning: adult language, cringy situations

Word Count: 1.6K

You let out a sigh as you stood infront of your new dorm, Heights Alliance. U.A high school was Japan’s best school for up and coming pro hero’s and you were chosen to attend. You never thought you’d see the day where you’d finally walk the halls of the prestigious school.

Being a native from the United States, it had always been your dream to attend U.A ever since you watched a sports festival two years ago, unfortunately you never peaked the interest of anyone with your admissions. That was until an earthquake caused by a villains powerful quirk had changed your life.

Long story short it was a normal day at your respective internship with America’s number 3 pro hero, Hopewing, on patrol. A devastating earthquake began and you single handly rescued civilians from a restaurant that caught on fire with no casualties. The villain was apprehended quickly, but an extensive search and rescue mission was done to recover victims of the earthquake. You didn’t think it was a big deal, you were just doing your job, but news outlets picked up on your heroic act and it spread like wild fire.

Countless offers began to stream in for different agencies and schools all across the country. With multiple letters of recommendation, a distinct offer from your dream school rolled in with a promise to be taught in the central . Even if you hadn’t fantasized about attending U.A, you would have been insane to not take the offer.

So, after finishing out your first year at Elite High School you uprooted, packed up your life, and traveled across the world . Classes started next week and nervous was an understatement. You had anxiety as soon as you touched down in Japan. Things here were different. On top of you being a new student in a foreign country you were living in dorms with your classmates.

You always lived at home with your mother and father , never sharing a space with someone else let alone 20 new people who all shared different quirks and attributes. It was nerve wracking, some were going better than you, who knows what level everyone is on. Your anxiety was making it hard for you to breathe. What if-

“Y/N. Did you hear me?” Mr. Aizawa interjected.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I kinda zoned out.” You squeaked. Never in a million years you would have thought that when you were told that your home room teacher was picking you up from the airport and taking you to your dorms that it would be the pro hero Eraser Head. You jaw had hit the floor.

“You know Y/N,” he began, “It’s okay to have anxiety about your situation, but I assure you this is the group of kids to share classes with. They are the best this school has to offer. They can teach you a lot.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

“Come on, let’s go. Iida and Yaoyorozu are waiting to help you settle in.” He said grasping, one of your suitcases. You took a deep breath and followed your home room teacher up the front stairs. As you walked into the doors, you were greeted by two people. One was a tall man with black hair, glasses, and crazy huge calves and the other was lean woman with a luscious black ponytail and the sweetest smile.

“Ah! There you two are! Welcome to U.A! My name is Tenya Iida, Class 2-A representative and this is Vice President Momo Yaoyorozu.” The man in the glasses announced, smiling widely. He spoke rigidly and bowed.

He threw you off at tad bit with the formality. He talked like he was a politician running for office. “Hey, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you both.” You extended your hand awkwardly since you were holding your carry on and a box. He gave you a firm handshake.

Yaoyorozu smiled and shook her head, “Iida, our classmate looks like her hands are full. Take her box big guy.”

“Oh, right! Sorry about that!” Iida took the box and your suitcase from Mr. Aizawa. You were grateful because it was getting a little heavy in your arms.

“Well Y/N, you’re in capable hands with these two. I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Aizawa turned on his heel to leave. “Come to my office 30 minutes before class on Monday and we’ll go through your schedule and get you a map of campus.” He called over his shoulder.

Just like that Aizawa the security blanket was gone and you were left alone with the two. They seemed nice, so hopefully the rest were the same. “Alrighty let’s head on up.” Yaoyorozu suggested. Your trio approached the elevator. “So, this is Class 2-A’s dormitory. There are 5 floors in total. The first floor are where the common rooms are located. Including the kitchen, study area, and the gym. Floors 2, 3, 4, and 5 are dorms. Our bathrooms are communal pertaining to who lives on each floor.” She explained.

Holy crap, this place was huge to say the least. You were excited to explore everything, especially the gym but that would have to wait until the jet lag wore off.

“I’ll tell you ahead of time Y/N, everyone is excited to meet our new classmate. If you ever get overwhelmed then instruct them to give you some space. They all can be quite a lot sometimes.” Iida warned, pushing his glasses up on his face.

“I’m sure I will be okay! I’m just happy to finally be here.”

Yaoyorozu gave you an award winning grin. “I’m happy for you too. Someone as talented as you belongs at U.A.” You felt a blush creeping on to your neck.

“Please stop, you’re being too kind. I’ve actually researched the both of you. You guys are so amazing and your quirks are insane!” You replied.

“Well, we appreciate it. So, we’ll bring your things up to your room, give you some time to freshen up, and then head down stairs to meet the others in an hour?” Iida said as the elevator reached the 4th floor.

You agreed as you stepped out and had a look around. The floor was in the U shaped. Next to the elevators was the bathrooms and the entrance branched out into two hallways.

“For obvious reasons the boys are on the right hall and the girls are on the left hall. Your neighbors on this side are Uraraka and Ashido, while the boys are Shouji, Kirishima, and Bakugo.” Yaoyorozu said and lead you to the third door down. She unlocked your door and handed you the gold key.

Iida opened the door and allowed you two to walk in before him. You were sure the big grin on your face was visible miles away.

“Now, I know it’s not much right now, but I wouldn’t stress about unpacking just yet. I’m sure you’ll recruit some help after dinner.” Iida said and sat down your things.

“Thanks guys, I’m going to go wash off this traveling and I’ll see you then.” You smiled. Iida bowed and Yaoyorzo waved before exiting. You quickly made your way to the bed and plopped down, absolutely beat. You began to take in your new home. The white bed frame was against the right wall, matching colored desk was placed against the left wall. There was a giant window on the back wall facing your door and in the corner was a small closet with low dresser inside

You looked around at all the boxes wondering if all your things would fit in this room. Maybe a little unpacking wouldn’t hurt. You opened your two suit cases and began hanging up clothes, organizing sleep clothes, undergarments, and socks in the drawers. Once that was done you began to search for your travel sizes hygiene products, making a mental note to go out for the essentials tomorrow.

Once that was located, you decided to pick out an outfit to wear. Since you arrived in sweat pants and an old t-shirt of your moms; you wanted to look semi decent when you met the others. You went for a simple pair of black jeans and your previous alma mater’s sweat shirt.

You grabbed your phone planning to text your parents that you’ve settled in and made your way to the bathroom. You began to type out a message as you neared the threshold.

Not paying attention as you rounded the corner you crashed into something hard...someone hard.

“Oi, pay attention!” He yelled as everything you were carrying flew onto the floor around you.

“Oh shoot, I am so sorry!”

You both simultaneously began to reach down to pick up your things and bumped heads.

“Fuck. Are you a clutz or something?” He growled holding his forehead. The impact caused you to see two pairs of red eyes glaring at you.

“Look, that was definitely my mistake. I apologize.” Your vision began to come back together and you started to get your things. He reached for the jeans and handed them to you.

You both stood up and then you realized how handsome he was. Spiked ash hair covered his head like a crown, crimson eyes, full lips, and a strong jaw line.

Wow...they definitely make them different in this country.

“Tch, you got a staring problem or did you knock something loose, dumbass?”

“My name’s Y/N, not dumbass.” You shot back, annoyed. He stood silently, shaking his head, and began to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” You questioned.

“Um...you’ve got...” was all he said before pulling the black thong with a cherry print from your shoulder and holding it infront of you with one finger.

“Oh my god.” You squealed and ripped it from his hand. He continued to laugh and walked out of the bathroom. You ran straight to the shower and locked the door. You sank to the floor with your hands covering your face.

Great. I’ve been in Japan for an hour and I’ve already embarrassed myself.

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 6

(Y/n)'s POV

Once I get over the fact that my brother's Latin teacher was half horse, we have a nice tour.

We pass by the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudge each other. One points to the Minotaur horn Percy is carrying. Another says, "It's them."

Most of the campers are older than me. Their satyr friends are bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD t-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. I'm not normally shy, but the way they are staring at me and Percy makes me uncomfortable. I feel as though they want us to do a flip or something.

I look back at the farmhouse. It's bigger than I'd realized - four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I'm checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something catches my eyes, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I get a distinct impression that I'm being watched.

"What's up there?" I ask Chiron.

He looks to where I'm pointing and his smile fades, "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?" Percy asks.

"No," he says with finality. "Not a single living thing."

I get the feeling that he's being truthful, but I am also sure something had moved that curtain.

As we get closer, I realize how huge the forest is. It takes up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Chiron says, "The woods are stocked if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" Percy asks. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own swords and shields?"

"My own - ?" Percy is cut off.

"No," Chiron interupts. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five will do for you, Percy, and a size three for you, (Y/n). I'll visit the armory later."

Finally, Chiron shows us the cabins. There are twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They are arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on each side. And they are, without a doubt the most bizarre number above the door.

Except for the fact that each has a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they lock absolutely nothing alike. Number Nine has smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number Four has tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seems to be made of solid gold, which gleams so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all face a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field is a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it is a warm afternoon, the hearth smolders. A girl, maybe nine years old is tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. I wave at the girl and she looks surprised, as though no one acknowledged her often, and waves back with a smile.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, look like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin One is the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmer like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seem to streak across them. Cabin Two is more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls are covered with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" Percy guesses.

"Correct," Chiron says.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

I stop in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

It isn't high and mighty like Cabin One, but low and solid. The outer walls are of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashells and coral as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. I peek inside the open doorway and Chiron says, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"

Before he can pull me back, I catch the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glow like abalone. There are six empty bunks with silk sheets turned down, but there is no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place feels so sad and lonely, I am glad when Chiron puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "Come along, (Y/n)."

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red—a real nasty paint job as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on Percy and gives him an evil sneer.

"Oh, look," Chiron says as we approach Cabin Eleven. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

The blond girl I'd met at the Big House is reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven. When we reach her, she looks me over critically, like she was still thinking about how much I drool.

I try to see what she was reading, but I can't make out the title. Then I realize the title isn't even English. The letters look Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek. There are pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.

"Annabeth," Chiron says, "I have Masters' Archery class at noon. Would you take Percy and (Y/n) from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin Eleven," Chiron tells us, gesturing towards the doorway. "Make yourself at home."

Out of all the cabins, Eleven looks the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. the threshold is worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway is a caduceus.

Inside, it is packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags are spread all over the floor. It looks like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center.

Chiron doesn't go in. The door is too low for him. But when the campers see him, they all stand and bow respectfully.

"Well, then," Chiron says. "Good luck, Percy, (Y/n). I'll see the two of you at dinner."

He gallops away towards the archery range.

Percy's POV

We stand in the doorway, looking at the kids. They aren't bowing anymore. They are staring at us, sizing us up. I know this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools.

"Well?" Annabeth prompts. "Go on."

So naturally, I trip coming in the door, and (Y/n) grabs my upper arm, straightening me up. There are some snickers from the campers, but none of them say anything.

Annabeth announces, "Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, meet Cabin Eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody asks.

I don't know what to say, but Annabeth says, "Undetermined."

Everyone groans.

A guy who is a little older than the rest comes forward. "Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy, (Y/n). You can have those two spots on the floor, right over there."

The guy was about nineteen, and he looks pretty cool. He's tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wears an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different colored clay beads. The only thing unsettling about his appearance is a thick white scar that runs from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash.

"This is Luke," Annabeth says, and her voice sounds different somehow. I glance over and swear she's blushing, but after a moment she sees me looking, and her expression hardens again. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" (Y/n) asks, looking rather curious.

"You're undetermined," Luke explains. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

I look around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they are waiting for a chance to pick my pockets.

"How long will I be here?" I ask.

"Good question," Luke replies. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?"

The campers all laugh and (Y/n) facepalms.

"Come on," Annabeth tells us. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"We've already seen it."

"Come on."

Annabeth grabs my wrist and drags me outside. I can hear the kids of Cabin Eleven laughing behind me and (Y/n) waves good-bye shyly.

When we are a few feet away, Annabeth says, "Jackson, you have to do better than that?"

"What?"

She rolls her eyes and mumbles under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you two were the ones."

"What's your problem?" I'm getting angry now, (Y/n) watching us cautiously. "All I know is, we kill some bull guy -"

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth tells me. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"

I shake my head. "Look, if the thing we fought is really the Minotaur, the same one in the stories . . ."

"Yes."

"Then there's only one."

"Yes."

"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So..."

"Monsters don't die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don't die."

"Oh, thanks. That clears it up."

"Percy," (Y/n) says calmly. "I think what Annabeth is saying, is that monsters eventually reform."

Annabeth nods and I think about Mrs. Dodds. "You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

"The Fur...I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

"How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?"

"You talk in your sleep," Annabeth answers and (Y/n) suppresses a laugh.

"You almost called her something. A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"

Annabeth glances nervously at the ground as if she expects it to open up and swallow her. "You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones if we have to speak of them at all."

"Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?" I sound whiny, even to myself, but right then I don't care. "Why do we have to stay in Cabin Eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."

I point to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turns pale. "You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or...your parent."

She stares at me, waiting for me to get it.

"Our mother is Sally Jackson," (Y/n) says softly. "She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

"I'm sorry about your mom, (Y/n). But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad."

"He's dead," I say simply. "We never knew him."

Annabeth sighs. Clearly, she'd had this conversation before with other kids. "Your father's not dead."

"How can you say that? You know him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how can you say -"

"Because I know the two of you. You wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us."

"You don't know anything about us.

"No?" She raises an eyebrow. "I bet you moved around from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them."

"How -"

"Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too."

I try to swallow my embarrassment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

(Y/n)'s POV

"Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course, the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are."

"You sound like...you went through the same thing?"

"Most of the kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."

"Ambrosia and nectar."

"The food and drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're both half-bloods."

A half-blood.

I am reeling with so many questions I don't know where to start.

Then a husky voice yells, "Well! Two newbies!"

I look over. The big girl from the ugly red cabin is sauntering towards us. She has three other girls behind her, all big and ugly and mean-looking like her, all wearing camo jackets.

"Clarisse," Annabeth sighs. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess," the big girl says. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

"Erre es korakas!" Annabeth says, which I somehow understand is Greek for 'Go to the crows!' though I have a feeling it was a worse curse than it sounds. "You don't stand a chance."

"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse says, but her eye twitches. Perhaps she isn't so sure she can follow through on ht threat. She turns towards me, then she looks at Percy. "Who are these's runts?"

"Percy and (Y/n) Jackson," Annabeth says, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Aries."

Percy blinks. "Like . . . the war god?"

Clarisse sneers. "You got a problem with that?"

"No," Percy says, seemingly recovering his 'wits'. "It explains the bad smell."

Long story short, Percy made the toilets explode.

Yeah, I said it. He made the toilets explode . . .

Word Count: 2455 words

[skyemisc]

Floyd Leech Birthday SSR Story Translation

I am still studying Japanese so I do not 100% guarantee accuracy in this translation. The gist should be there.

NRC Newspaper interview Birthday interview feature

~Floyd edition~

---

Part 1

Option: Happy birthday

Floyd: Ah, Koebi-chan came to celebrate too. Thanks~

Screen: Please let us know how you feel about everyone congratulating you.

Floyd: It’s festive so it’s fun.

Floyd: We’d have parties at home, but they weren’t this rowdy.

Floyd: It’s not stiff or formal, so I like this.

Screen: I heard you have candy reserves in your room, is that true?

Floyd: Huh? You don’t know, Koebi-chan? How even when you eat dinner, before sleepin’ you get hungry?

Floyd: Me and Jade are still growin’ ya know~

Screen: Are there certain treats you like?

Floyd: Hmm… It changes depending on the day… Lately it’s been peppermint candy…

Floyd: Last week it was melon-flavored gummies… Yesterday I ate biscuits with almond in ‘em.

Floyd: I think I prefer the chewy stuff over the flavor. Also, stuff you can only eat on land.

Floyd: Koebi-chan, if you find any rare treats make sure to share with me, okay?

Screen: Okay. By the way, what kind of food do you like?

Floyd: That is… Takoyaki! Ah, do you know what Takoyaki is?

Floyd: Huh, you know, Koebi-chan? Even though there’s not many at school who know, you do?

Floyd: The other day, after closing Monstro Lounge for the day, Jade and I had some with other dorm members.

Floyd: Flippin’ em over was pretty tricky but after some practice they were really good.

Floyd: It’s named Takoyaki but, you can put in stuff besides octopus in case you get bored.

Screen: When the time comes, what ingredients would you like to try?

Floyd: First shrimp and cheese! Then sausage, and oysters…

Floyd: Tomatoes, broccoli, strawberries, fresh cream, chocolate, anchovies, potato chips, konjac jelly…

Screen: There’s a lot you’d like to try out.

Floyd: Yeah yeah. In the end we’ll test who can make it the strangest…. It’s laughable how disgusting it is!

Floyd: Azul is a stickler about wastin’ food so we gotta make sure to eat it all.

Floyd: Next time, you should join us, Koebi-chan. It’s a promise.

 Part 2

Screen: You usually have your collar open, is it uncomfortable to have it buttoned?

Floyd: Not uncomfy, more like too irritating. I may be good at stranglin’ but it’s not exactly my taste.

Floyd: When I came to shore, I didn’t like the clothes. It’s like always havin’ seaweed clingin’ to your body.

Floyd: Plus, you know how ya gotta wash your clothes right after wearin’ them?

Floyd: I was thinkin’ why humans gotta do something that’s such a pain.

Floyd: But now I like pickin’ out my clothes. It’s fun wearin’ different colors.

Floyd: Koebi-chan did ya know? The In the sea you can see a bunch of different dark colors.

Floyd: Besides clothes, you can wear shoes and accessories… It’s fun dressin’ up differently on land~

Floyd: But, after buyin’ so much, storin’ it in my room’s getting troublesome.

Floyd: Jade’s room’s always clean and got some spare room so I ask him to leave some of my stuff there.

Floyd: But he always says, “No.”

Floyd: Ahhh, I wonder if they’d let me use another dorm room for storage.

Screen: You collect anything you like?

Floyd: Ehh? Jade and Azul’s got their plant’s ‘n’ coins they like to collect…

Floyd: I get bored easily, so I don’t care much for any collectin’… Oh, that’s right.

Floyd: I wasn’t trying to collect ‘em for anythin’, but the other day I bought some moray eel goods.

Screen: What sort of stuff did you buy?  

Floyd: A loose fittin’ graphic T-shirt, a mascot keyholder with a funny face.

Floyd: Since there’s a legend about the Sea Witch’s capable moray eel underlings,

Floyd: At sea, moray eels have a pretty tough image. Plus, we’re carnivorous.

Floyd: But on land, the moray eel goods they sell up here are weirdly cute so it’s interestin’.

Floyd: Makes you think about how humans see moray eels.

Floyd: I bought the T-shirt and gave one to Jade and he happily wore it. Aha~

Floyd: Azul said not to go out wearin’ it but it’s so cute. Isn’t that terrible~?

Part 3

Screen: Between your mermaid form and human form, which one do you like?

Floyd: When I was human form, I didn’t know how to walk, and my body was so heavy…

Floyd: I felt like turnin’ back to my mermaid form right away and headin’ back to sea.

Floyd: But recently, I’ve been thinkin’ this form ain’t too bad.

Floyd: At Coral Sea, there’s nothin’ but other merfolk but at this school there’s so many different people.

Floyd: So, I’m never left bored.

Floyd: Also… I can do fun things I can only do at sea like basketball and dancin’.

Floyd: Lately I’ve gotten into parkour~

Screen: What’s parkour?

Floyd: Oh, you don’t know? You kick off handrails or walls, and climb up buildings~

Floyd: It’s a sport where ya gotta move around any obstacles as much as ya can to get to the goal.

Screen: Seems difficult.

Floyd: I don’t think about whether it’s hard or easy.

Floyd: Since I was a kid, I liked playing around things like obstacle courses.

Screen: Obstacle courses at sea…?

Floyd: Yeah. You decide the goal, then swim through the planned route in the sunken ship.

Floyd: Sunken ships have a lot of broken places here and there, so ya gotta swim around a lot of obstacles~

Floyd: To not let your swimmin’ speed drop, ya wanna avoid the obstacles with the minimum movement possible.

Floyd: Then, the first one to reach the goal wins!

Floyd: …Come on, isn’t that like parkour? So that’s why I like it.

Floyd: It’s fun pickin’ up a new skill, plus it’s like swimmin’ up on land.

Floyd: There’s no right or wrong way to avoid ‘em or any strategy, so it’s kinda more…freeing?

Floyd: For me, I hate havin’ any strict rules…

Floyd: Oh, but the other day I overslept and used parkour to enter the classroom through the window. The teacher was pissed.

Floyd: Aren’t I impressive for workin’ so hard to not be late? Next time I’ll try not to get caught. Aha~

Screen: Thank you for letting me listen to your stories.

Screen: Once again, happy birthday.

[yume-fanfare]

Start line

this is the translation of one of the short stories posted to celebrate LIPxLIP’s birthday, you can read it in japanese here. it has been translated from this spanish translation by mieltrabajos

---

“Suzumi-san, why don't you come over to our school?”

It was in her last days of middle school that a Sakuragaoka teacher invited her, told her he was the advisor of the track and field club. At that moment, she was about to go back home, feeling down because she hadn't accomplished the goal she'd set three years earlier: be one of Japan's top 10 athletes.

During middle school, Mr. Yamazaki had taught her about track and field. He was a college professor, but she caught his eye during a race. However, Hiyori had heard that Sakuragaoka was in Tokyo. She didn't quite process it at the time, confused as she was. Studying in Tokyo had never crossed her mind. She thought she'd go to a highschool nearby, just like everyone else.

Hiyori lives in the countryside. There weren't many schools to choose from, and even if they did have entrance exams, most people got in because there simply weren't enough students. For that reason, local public schools didn't have track and field. In fact, most club activities weren't active. And, even if they were, they weren't competitive enough nor had proper teachers. So Hiyori had thought she'd have to give up on running after middle school, it sounded impossible.

Of course I want to keep running. It was what I focused most on my third year of middle school. I loved running more than anything else, it was all that I had. But, Tokyo is too far away. I was told to “think about it” for now, but I still don't know, it's so complicated.

During lunch break, Hiyori slumped over her desk, groaning. Shirakawa Satoe, her best friend and classmate, stared at Hiyori while eating a sandwich.

“What's the matter, Hiyori? Does your stomach hurt from eating too much?”

“Waaaah, Sato-chan, what should I do?”

She held her head in her hands. The week after finishing the club tournaments, Hiyori couldn't do anything but worry about track and field.

Because of this, I feel like my stomach has become very heavy.

Today's lunchbox had two big rice balls and fried shrimp, but she didn't feel like eating.

“Are you still worried about the Tokyo school?”

“I'm worried precisely because it's Tokyo… It's so far away, like on the other side of the world!”

“It'll be fine. You're Hiyori, you'll be able to keep running if you work hard!”

Hiyori shook her head. 

“No, it's impossible no matter what!” 

“But it's only a couple of hours away by plane, isn't it? And around ten by bus. Maybe it's closer than you think.”

“I don't think I have enough money to fly.”

“True, why is it so hard? If I had money, I'd go to a live in Tokyo or Osaka…”

Hiyori and Satoe sigh.

I wonder if I should give up after all…

She still hadn't talked to her parents about Sakuragaoka yet. Her mom seemed convinced she’d go to a local high school at the last parents-teacher conference.

If I wanted to go to a Tokyo school, Grandma and Grandpa probably wouldn't like it… And Dad will get really mad...

“It's hopeless…” Hiyori said, putting her head on the desk again. “What if I took the exam without permission? If I pass, there would be no going back!”

“... And how would you live in Tokyo?”

Hiyori lifted her head and saw Satoe had crossed her arms.

“That's the problem.”

Paying rent, living expenses and the tuition fees with just a part time job would be really hard. It's not impossible, but Hiyori doesn't think she'd be able to do something like that and track and field. Going to Tokyo would be pointless then.

“But you want to run, right?”

“I do. I've been working as hard as I can and… I haven't given up on being in Japan's top 10.”

“Do you want to be a professional runner in Japan's national team?” Satoe laughed and poked Hiyori's cheek with her chopstick.

“I'm not fit enough for that yet but… I don't want to stop running.”

‘You can run anywhere, you don't have to join a club’. I'm sure that's what my parents would answer. I know. But that depends on each one's determination.

I hadn't thought about going to Tokyo until that teacher appeared with the Sakuragaoka invitation. This wouldn't be happening if that hadn't occurred. That invitation is like Eden’s apple.

“Then, why don’t you take the plunge?”

“You say it like it’s easy!” Hiyori whined.

“Because you want to go, don’t you? It’s written all over your face. You’re easy to read, Hiyori.”

“I don’t think so. Tokyo is… scary. There are lots of people there. I’ll be alone, without any friends… I don’t know the streets or anything, I’ll get lost for sure!”

“But, you’ll be able to make as many friends as you like! You’re Hiyori.”

“But I’ll never be able to make a friend as good as you again, Sato-chan!”

Satoe laughed, shook her head and stood up. Her hair was messy.

“Hearing you say that makes me really happy, Hiyori,” she exclaimed with a booming voice.

“Okay, I've made up my mind! I'll go to the same school as Sato-chan. Never to a different one! It's decided, I'll reject the offer!”

Satoe laughed loudly, full of glee.

But then, her face turned serious.

“But… actually. I want you to go to Tokyo, Hiyori.”

“Eh…?”

“It'd be a waste to stay here in the countryside. I'm sure Tokyo is much more fun.”

“Sato-chan…”

“I want Hiyori to decide herself. Because it's you, Hiyori.”

But what about… us two?

She was confused, but Hiyori mumbled a “yes” as Satoe took out two small packets out of a bag.

“Which one do you choose?” She held up both packets for her and smiled.

They were pockys, a strawberry packet and a lemon one. Hiyori, worried about the hard choice, ends up taking one of each.

“Which is the best one~!” was her answer.

She laughed and bit both of them.

---

When classes finished for the day, she left the school building. The sky was getting more and more cloudy.

High school in Tokyo…

All her life, she'd thought she'd live in her hometown forever. She hadn't even imagined moving away.

But in the end… it's impossible, Sato-chan.

Hiyori looks down at the ground, walking.

Living alone in the city, going to highschool, it all sounded like a surreal future to her. She knew it would be really hard.

No matter how badly she wanted to go.

She heard a cheerful voice coming from the school’s courtyard and stopped walking. The members of the baseball and track and field clubs were practicing on their own. Hiyori and her friends had to retire, since their three years of middle school were over and they were about to graduate. Just a few days ago, though, they also had practice like that. As soon as classes were over, Hiyori remembered, she would change clothes as fast as she could to go to practice.

“It was fun…” The words left her mouth without noticing.

She was completely absorbed looking at the practice, imagining herself with the underclassmen.

Even if she had studied at a local middle school, those three years had been full of fun things. Laughing with her friends, the ones who would go to high school with her if she stayed in the countryside, without the anxiety of having to meet new people.

I know, but my heart yearns for somewhere else.

She was unable to forget her wish to study in Tokyo.

In Sakuragaoka there would be a track and field club and a teacher who would properly guide her. And she’d be able to keep running.

There’s also the want for a nice city environment. There will be a lot of things in Tokyo that I don’t have here. I’ll probably be able to do a lot of things I don’t have here.

Even if Hiyori thought it was impossible, thinking of a new world yet to explore made her excited.

I wonder if I can make it…

For that reason, she had lots of obstacles to overcome. Like convincing her parents.

“Oh, Suzumi-senpai!” A boy noticed her and waved his arms in the air exaggeratedly.

Hiyori walked towards the courtyard where the track and field club members were.

“Suzumi-senpai, are you going home already? Let’s practice together!”

“I’m retired now.” Hiyori laughed, a bit sad.

“Huhhhh,” the boy complained. “Then just watch our practice! Like one of the retired professionals! 

“Hum… I wonder if I can run one last lap...” Hiyori brought a hand to her chin, deep in thought.

It really would be her last race in middle school.

“Great! Okay, then I’ll time you!” a second year student exclaimed, holding a stopwatch. Some other club members offered to measure the distance.

Hiyori stood at the starting line and breathed in deeply while looking at the finish line. There, the boy was holding the stopwatch, while the other students observed the race from the side benches. 

Hiyori hadn’t brought her gym clothes or a T-shirt, so she still wore the school uniform. 

She kneeled on the ground and looked ahead. 

Her heart began to race. 

The whistle blew and Hiyori lunged forward.

Now, I’m still completely happy.

I have all my friends and classmates. My mom’s meals and lunchboxes are delicious. My grandpa secretly gave me an allowance and my grandma is really good at sewing; this year she made a new yukata for me. And my dad takes me fishing sometimes,

I’m sure I’ll have fun every day here.

If she went to the city, she was sure she’d be alone every day. Living alone would be much harder than she could imagine. She wouldn’t have friends or acquaintances. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get along with everyone at a high school in Tokyo. People might laugh at her and she’d be embarrassed.

But…

There surely was a much bigger world she didn’t know about.

After crossing the finish line, Hiyori breathed in deeply and looked up to the sky. The sun shone softly between the clouds.

Maybe I shouldn’t give up before trying…

---

During the holidays, Hiyori met with Satoe in the lakeside park where they used to play. The lake’s surface was dyed in the sunset’s colors, the wind making small ripples in the water.

They sat on a bench and Hiyori spoke up.

“Um, Sato-chan.”

“Yes, yes, I see.” Satoe crossed her arms and nodded, telling her to go on.

“I haven’t said anything yet!” Hiyori exclaimed, confused.

Satoe smiled at her.

“Yes, but I already know what you want to say, it’s written all over your face. You’ve decided to go to Tokyo, right?”

Hiyori felt her eyes begin to water and she quickly rubbed them.

Of course she knew, they were best friends. Or maybe Hiyori was just that easy to read?

“I’m sorry... Sato-chan, I do really want to go to the same high school as you!”

Hiyori felt like she was betraying someone and that made her heart ache. Hiyori wanted to go away, but Satoe grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the bench.

“I see… but, that’s no good! I won’t let you!”

“Satoe…”

“Because, Hiyori, if you go to that school, you’ll have lots of fun and forget about us!”

“I would never do that. You’re my best friend, Sato-chan, no one else. I’ll contact you every day!”

“... Or so you say, but what if you get a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?!” Hiyori exclaimed, waving her hands. “Impossible! That won’t happen!”

“You’ll go to the city, you don’t know. Maybe you’ll meet a handsome guy, what will happen if he takes over all your free time?!”

“Eh, uh, aaahhhh, what should I… I don’t know…?”

Hiyori felt trapped, but her voice was calmer than before. She pressed her index fingers together nervous.

“After all we've been through, Hiyori will choose love over our friendship! As if everything so far had been a game!” Satoe covered her face with her hands.

“That's not true! All my feelings are about Sato-chan! I'd never do something like that!” Hiyori said very seriously, with a hand on her chest.

Satoe peeked at her through her fingers. Then, she put her hands down and broke out laughing, she couldn't hold it in anymore. Hiyori started laughing too and so they both laughed together till their stomachs hurt. Hiyori even started tearing up a bit, but wiped the tears quickly.

In that same place, she used to sit with Satoe and talk until the sun set. During elementary school, whenever she felt down because she couldn't place high during the tournaments, she'd sit here and cry with Satoe. She had thought they’d be together the next year, and the following one.

She felt lost. She’d been so worried about making a decision.

Their laughs quieted down and Hiyori felt sad again. Her shoulders dropped.

“Sato-chan…”

“Do your best, Hiyori. Don’t lose yourself.”

“Yes…”

“Hiyori, it’s fine. You’re strong.”

“I don’t think so…”

“You can survive till the end in any dangerous environment.”

“Yes… I won’t lose! No matter what!

“And I won’t lose my position as your best friend to anyone!”

“Yes… I won’t have a different best friend ever!”

“If you ever get a boyfriend, send me the first picture you take! You have to!”

“I’m sure… I don’t think I can!”

Hiyori and Satoe met each other’s eyes before bursting into tears.

“Hiyori…”

“Sato-chan!”

“Well, if that happens, then let’s eat a lot of sweets today! Let’s hang out!”

As she talked, Satoe opened her backpack and turned it outside down. Some packets with sweets fell out of it onto her knees, the same ones they had eaten the other day, lemon and strawberry pockys.

“Wow, Sato-chan, why did you buy so many?!”

“You see… if I collect 10 tickets I might win a signed poster! From these two…” Satoe said with a very serious face, clenching her fist tightly.

Then, she held both of Hiyori’s hands.

“Help me eat them… I have to eat and eat. Like an infinite strawberry-lemon loop! I bought an entire box with my pocket money. I really want the poster!”

“Yes but...  for a signed poster?”

“Hiyori, which one do you want? You can choose as many as you like!”

“The chocolate-banana ones are better…”

“There weren’t tickets on those though…”

They both opened the packets and began eating. The sunset shone over the lake’s edge.

---

Next spring was graduation.

Hiyori went to the courtyard when the ceremony was finished. The place where she had trained for so long.

“Thank you so much…” she whispered.

In that moment, she heard Satoe call out to her. Other track and field club members were running there too, everyone came.

“I’m glad I made it on time!”

“Sato-chan… what are you guys doing here?”

“Hiyori, you’re leaving for Tokyo tomorrow… so this is our farewell!!”

Satoe gave her a white box with a ribbon. Hiyori, confused, untied it and opened the box. A brand new pair of shoes.

“Umm…” Hiyori’s eyes were wide open as she looked at everyone, amazed.

“Because you’re the star of the track and field club!”

“Please, don’t forget about us!”

“Call me some time!”

Surrounded by exclamations and shy laughter, Hiyori felt her eyes water and she pressed the back of her hand against them. Her chest was full of words she couldn’t pronounce.

“Oh, don’t cry!  We’re holding our tears in!”

“Sato-chan, guys… Thank you! I’m glad I was able to run with all of you and join the track and field club.”

“Hiyori…! Someday I’ll go to Tokyo with my pocket money! I’ll go meet Yuujirou and Aizou!” Satoe hugged her tightly as she cried.

“Who are those guys?! You won’t be with me?!”

“Of course, I’ll go meet Hiyori. I’ll pull an all-nighter and we’ll go watch a live!”

“Oh, I see. I’ll be waiting for you! But I don’t know what live are you talking about.”

Wiping their tears and changing them for a smile, everyone hugged Hiyori.

A place she didn’t know. People she didn’t know. But she was sure there would be new encounters. She would be brave and take off running.

Of course, I’ll do my best.

“Guys… I’m off!”