#but i was an awful friend to them just because i needed something to escape to

[michelasnook]

NOBODY'S SOLDIER

Sergeant Francesca Herrald doesn't like being in the military. She is one of the best snipers and the most meticulous medic. But at nineteen she desires to just live her teenage years. Inside the Fourth Squadron she just has to work. And she hates it.

Lieutenant Johnathan Price sees in the sister of his Captain a sad teen that wishes to escape that reality of blood and death. Even if she works with extraordinary focus and energy. He tries to make her life a bit more cheerful, but just when he thinks he is doing some progress, she turns and leaves. However, he just can let her go.

Now, something is wrong with her, more than usual. And he will do his best to understand her.

Words (for the chapter): 2503;

Warnings and tags (for the whole story): Lieutenant John Price, angst, depictions of violence, age gap, eventual smut, fluff, brother-sister relationship, panick attacks, minor character death, eventually more warnings.

A/N: So I started writing this story and I am now ready to start publish it all around. I fell in love with Francesca since the first chapters, and I hope I can manage to bring this story to conclusion (I've never finished a story in my life, but I feel confident). English is not my first language, but I hope there aren't any errors.

I. The Emptiness Machine

LONDON , 23rd of October, 2009. 

   I can imagine them all screaming my name, in unison, and then headbanging at the rhythm of my music. Even if my eyes are closed, I can see them all, while I move my head and strung the chords of my imaginary guitar. The riff is hard, but I know I'm nailing every note, making them all scream in awe. 

   I reach the most difficult part, my left hand going up and down the air and pressing on the right chords, with the right pressure, and when I almost nail it completely- one of my earbuds falls.

   No, it doesn't fall: Elia has yanked it out. He is looking at me, slightly disappointed.

   The pub all around me takes form again as the other people at the table chat. I sigh and pause the music on my iPod.

   "Care to grace us with your presence, Franny?" Elia asks me with a smile. I respond with a playful face, sticking my tongue out. He chuckles, turning back to his beer as the others laugh and talk.

   I swirl my shirley temple and then take a sip from the straw. I hate when my brother forces me to go out with our squad. He wants for me to socialize outside our job, but it's hard if you can't even drink alchool and all you want to do is just read and listen to music. It's even harder to try and make friend at base if everyone sees you Captain Herrald's little sister, or as the child of Major Herrald and Colonel Pearson-Herrald. Yet here I am, Sergeant Medic of the 4th British Squadron.

   I pluck the cherry from my drink and pop it into my mouth, just as Lieutenant Price sits down beside me with a dark beer in hand. I glance at it, wishing I could take a sip.

   "It's a Guinnes, right?" I ask, clear longing and sadness in my voice. John turns with shy smile and nods to me, then turns towards my brother and checks him. Slowly, without drawing attention, he slides the pint over to me. Grinning, I take a quick, satisfying sip before handing it back.

   "Thanks" I mutter, still savouring the dark tones of that good and cool Guinnes on my tongue.

   "Didn't peg you for a beer person" he says taking a drink from the same spot I pressed my lips on.

   "I enjoy a fresh Guinnes," I admit, "It's harsh to just drink it every now and then only when you pass me illegal sips." I pocket my iPod and earbuds in the big and old hoodie.

   He chuckles deep and smiles, shifting on his stool. "So, are you in on this mission?"

   Lieutenant Jonathan Price is the only one in the squad that actually tries to empatise and understand me. All the men and women at the table have enrolled because they wanted to, because they needed to give all their life to our country. But me? I don't want to risk my life only to save people I don't even know.

   I enrolled in the military academy at sixteen, but already at twelve I was trained by my father and deep in medical books under the scrutinous eyes of my mother. They wanted for me to be a military medic, a trauma field surgeon. And they got that, even if every night, at least until at seventeen I accepted my fate, I cried until I fell asleep. Under the command of my brother they now have total control of my being. Them and the United Kingdom, even if I just want to disappear in my old room in Bournemouth reading stories of dragons and fairies.

   John doesn't know the full story, but he listens when I talk. He's my sounding board when I need to vent, and I ignore his growing nicotine addiction as a form of silent gratitude. Sometimes, we share a cigarette when my brother isn't around.

   "I have no way out, so Afghanistan here I come!" I say mocking a tost and then take another slow sip. "Again, I suppose".

   John doesn't laugh, but just tries to smile to encourage me. "You can still leave, you can't stay out of coercion" he whispers, trying to not be heard by my brother that is just in front of him on the other side of the table. Elia is laughing at some joke Private MacGavin has said.

   "Except I can't if I want to stay in touch with all my family and not be disinherited" I suck even the last drop of my drink and then push it with the other glasses that have gathered from the others. "You know, I still would like some kind of family. So... I am stuck".

   I have two families: my actual blood and all family, and my gunpowder and injuries family. If I walk away, I would lose them both.

   "You wouldn't lose me, Sonne" he says, cues another one of his cute smiles. But I cringe at him for using my code name. 

   "Oh, don't worry. My brother would make sure of that" Elia thinks exactly as my father, even if he is more pleasant to be around and he cares about me more. 

   Elia and John are best friends, my brother has took the young Lieutenant under his wing, almost making him de facto his second in command. There isn't one single thing John wouldn't do under Elia's command. 

   "I have a mind of my own. Elia can make sure of whatever, but I think I'll never stop sneaking you sips of Guinnes" he chuckles at the end of the phrase and then pats me on my head, a few strands of ash blond hair falling on my forehead. I look at him, admiring him a few seconds. 

   If just he looked at me the same lovingly way I am looking at him now.

   "Thanks, Price" I say with a half sigh, then I turn to the little stage where three young teens are performing a Radiohead's song. I don't dare look at the Lieutenant for the rest of the night, not if I can avoid it.

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

HELMAND PROVINCE, AFHGANISTAN, 25th of october, 2009.

   The base is rumbling with action: trucks rolling in and out, squadrons full of privateers marching around, weapons firing off in the distance. And the dust, there is too much dust, that is around our boots, that deposit on our faces and threatens to get in our eyes. It's not a place I like, it's not where I can find myself, opposite of my brother. 

   I look at him while he talks off in the distance with a Corporal that has orders to pass to him. His hands are on his hips, nodding and moving his hands if he needs to explain something. In his uniform and combact gear he looks the part; hell, he is the part. Elia thrives in this life. Meanwhile, I am here, just surviving it. 

   Captain Herrald returns with a piece of paper that the Corporal has given him, and looks at us with a sigh. He looks displeased.

   "The Chinook's been delayed. We're stuck here until tomorrow afternoon. They need us to work in the meantime. Franny, report to Role 3. John, head to JOC..." His voice is commanding, as always, but I barely hear the rest. I gather my gear and head to the Combat Support Hospital without waiting for further instructions.

   Role 3 is where I find a sense of purpose, if not belonging. After stowing my things in a small office, I report to Major Sheffield, the hospital's commanding officer. She's tall, redheaded, and carries herself with quiet authority. 

   "Seargent Herrald, I heard many great things about your operations. Care to walk with me?" Major Sheffield asks me, and I nod when she starts walking like she owns the place. Because she does, she owns the place. This is her hospital. 

   "So young and already putting your hands inside men's stomach to make them return home to their families, you must be proud" she says while we walk up the stairs and enter the surgical floor, where the many wounded soliders are awaiting their surgeries or to be discharged, ready to go home or back to action. 

   I mentally sigh when she saysthose words, because I don't know how to answer. But I smile, put myself practically on attention with my hands together behind my back and give her a cordial smile. "Yes, I am" I simply say, lowering my military medical surgeon mask. 

   "We have one surgery where we could really use another set of capable hands. Can I count you in?" she asks, while another doctor gives her a chart. 

   "If we finish before dinner, sure" I say with a smile, she returns it and leaves the chart for me to study. 

   Here I am, back to work. And the only thing I hope is that this base has good hiding spots. Even in this place, which should feel like my sanctuary, I still feel trapped.

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

   The desert wind feels fresh on my skin, like the vanilla ice cream I'm eating while sitting on the rooftop of our barrack. I can look at the stars clearly, like they've been painted just for me. One thing that I can surely be happy about this job is that it makes me travel around the world. Sure, it doesn't let me be a proper tourist, but at least I get to watch the sky from different parts of this planet. And this ice cream is actually really good. 

   I moan quietly with closed eyes when I savour in my mouth the last spoon of this wednesday's base dessert, then sigh at the sight of the empty cup. Even the small pleasure of life are short-lived here, and I am now left with the spectacle that is the base ahead of me. 

   It's dinner time, even if in half an hour everyone has to go to sleep, the base is still alive with activity. Everyone is busy with something, and me... I am just hiding. 

   Rooftops are my speciality, just like operation rooms. It's the duality of being a sniper and a doctor. I have two hiding places, but with time even these places feel so wrong to me. I don't belong. 

   I lean back on my elbows, listening to the rhythm of the soldiers marching below. I close my eyes and I take a big breath. Trying to convince myself that I belong here, that I am doing something actually right for me and for the people. But which people?

   Behind me, I can sense someone is climbing up the pipe to reach the roof, and then I hear the unmistakable sound of my brother's footsteps. Elia sits besides me with an non-alcoholic beer in hand. I didn't realise they would give beers out at base. 

   "Ugh, are you here to remind me that I'm still to young to drink?" I ask with a sigh. In response he hands me the green bottle. I smile and take a swig, but immediatly girmace at the taste and give it back in disgust. "Why do you drink this blonde shit?" I ask, wiping the drops around my mouth. 

   "I am blonde, we are blonde. Of course I am going to like a blonde beer" he says with a chuckle in his voice, looking out the base, but his expression is different from mine. 

   I can see it in his face, in his eyes. He is surveying his domain, his land, like a King. His dream is taking our father's position, rise to his rank. So yeah, he wants to be the King of this land. 

   "Everything good at the hospital?" he asks, still not looking at me, his diamond-like eyes reflecting the moonlight as his golden beard gleams.

   "I did four GSWs, a fasciotomy, and cleaned so many burns and immobilized so many fractures that I lost count" I say, groaning as my shoulders scream for rest. I give in, lying down with a tired sigh. "I was in the OR for nine hours, then spent the rest of the time in the trauma wing." My muscles ease as my back hits the ground.

   I open my eyes and see Elia's usual proud smile when it comes to my work. When it comes to be happy about what I accomplish, Elia does it for me. He covers joy and proudness for all my family, decanting my successes in the field, from the lives I save to the enemies I take down. 

   "You've been awfully quiet, Fran" he says, setting his beer aside and turning towards me for the first time this evening. 

   "I always am" I say, avoiding his gaze. 

   I look at his forehead, his cheeks, even his lips- anywhere but his eyes. If I look at him in his eyes he'll see that I am scared to be here, that I don't want to be here. Just like how when we were kids and he could always tell how much I hated our father's training. And he would take the beatings for me. 

   Elia doesn't know still don't want to be here. He thinks I found some deep sense of patriotism at sixteen when I enrolled. He doesn't know what convinced me to stay.

   I can't let him see how scared and angry I am. It would be misinterpreted as a lack of confidence in my ability, and even though I hate it, I'm damn good at my job. This whole setup is insane, but I can handle it.

   "If you are bothered in some way, you can talk to me. I'm here as your brother, not as your Captain" he says, trying to meet my eyes. My eyes fall on his collar, where his insignias are, then his chest, decorated with medals. 

   Here, he's just my Captain. He doesn't get it. He never will. This is his land, not mine. 

   "I am fine, Elia. Just need to get through this mission" I say with a deep breath, moving my eyes back up, to the sky, to the indifferent dying stars. 

   He nods, staying by my side for a few more minutes. Then he finishes his beer, pats me on my shoulder and climbs back down. I sit back up, look down and can see my brother meeting with his Lieutenant. 

   John looks relaxed, though a bit tired from the work day. However, he looks like he could do it all over again. He's twenty-three and already a lieutenant; at this pace, he'll have Elia's job in a few deployments.

   I see Elia telling him something, and then John looks up in my direction. I stay where I am and wave. He returns the gesture, touching the visor of his cap and flashing me a small, kind smile. 

   Oh, I really liked that smile. Damn as hell I need to get to Lucy after all this shit. 

[comfortstars]

no actually. Can I be honest for a second. I know I said I wasn't gonna talk about it anymore but idgaf

[pakimakas]

my heart literally dropped when i visited the unsent project, cause i think i found some that were addressed to me

[criminalamnesia]

ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)

part one here and part two here

ending version 2 here

when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.

of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.

he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.

he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.

he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.

he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.

he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.

he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.

he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.

“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.

the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.

“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.

“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.

“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”

before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.

“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.

“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”

you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.

you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.

“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”

he gives a small nod. “understood.”

you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.

pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.

he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.

“nice place,” he says, and he means it.

you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.

you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.

you were never the problem.

he was.

“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.

best to get on with it, then.

“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”

you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.

“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”

your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.

“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”

“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”

god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”

“and what?” you interrupted.

“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”

you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.

“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”

he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”

“congrats,” you deadpanned.

“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”

“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”

“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.

you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.

“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”

silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.

“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.

he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.

“nothin’.” he said.

“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.

the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.

you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.

“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.

“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”

he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.

you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”

“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”

you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”

your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.

“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”

you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.

he turned and walked out the door.

————

author’s note:

muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!

this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)

[rogueddie]

Eddie couldn't take his eyes off of the ugliest, evil looking polo top that he's ever had the misfortune to lay his eyes upon. It's everything he hates in one piece of clothing, so horrible that he'd gagged at it when he'd first seen it.

His friends had laughed, agreeing that the top is an abomination and crime against humanity.

But Eddie couldn't stop looking at it.

It's the exact type of thing that Steve would wear. It's the type of thing he would love and brag about.

Even though the party, with the help of Robin, have been trying to 'fix' Steve and his taste. They're currently targetting his wardrobe and they're almost wearing him down enough to get him to stop wearing so many polos.

It's making Eddie feel... conflicted.

He agrees that Steves taste is horrible. He listens to bad pop music most of the time, he has no sense of fashion and loves romance so much that he thinks awful rom-coms are the height of cinema.

But it's Steve. Those things are what make him so... Steve.

He sneaks back to the top when his friends aren't looking, crouching behind racks to get to the till and quickly buy it. He buries it in the bottom of his bag, ignoring the bored and judgemental look the staff are giving him.

"There you are," Gareth squints at him when he rejoins them. "Where did you go?"

"Fainted," he sneers, throwing an arm around Jeffs shoulders. "All these neons and pop are making me dizzy."

They laugh, quickly moving on.

After dropping them off, he goes straight to Steves house. He doesn't want the ugly shirt on his person longer than necessary and the last thing he needs is someone finding it in his closet.

He nearly cheers when he pulls up to Steves house and his parents car isn't parked out front.

They'd only caught him in their house once, when they'd come home early, and he's sure he only escaped with his life because the entire party was there too.

"Eddie?" Steve frowns when he opens the door. "What are you doing here? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, fine, just..." he huffs, rubbing his eyes. He digs through the bag, grabbing the offending shirt, and throwing it at Steve. "Got you that. I thought- whatever. There. Good night."

"Woah, woah," Steve quickly catches his arm. "It's ok, man. If the others ask then I'll say I got it. It's... this is really nice, Eds."

"It's ugly."

"Sure," Steve snorts, looking back to the shirt. "But it's definitely my style. This really means a lot to me. I think it looks cool."

"Uh, yeah, I guessed," Eddie shifts, squirming with how genuine Steve is being. "It's just a polo."

"No, it's not. It's special to me."

"Right, because you think that pattern is 'so-"

"You saw it and thought of me. Like, you hate it, but you knew I'd like it and... it just means a lot to me, that you're thinking of me."

"Alright, it's just a shirt, calm down."

"No, I don't think I will," Steve gently tugs him inside so he can shut the door. "I get it if this is difficult for you but I'm getting impatient."

"If- what?"

"Do you need me to make the first move? Or- is this a move? Is your love language gift giving or something?"

"You've lost me."

Steve huffs, putting his hands on his hips and giving Eddie a look that he can only describe as 'disappointed parent'.

"We've been flirting for months and you haven't done anything about it." Steve falters quickly when he sees the shock on Eddies face. "Or... am I missing something? Is it the whole, like... keeping it secret thing? Because I don't mind! It's not safe to be out in Hawkins, I know, and I'm not expecting a big date at-"

"You knew that I was flirting with you," Eddie interrupts. "This whole time?"

"Well, yeah, I was also flirting with you."

Eddie stares at him for a moment. "And you've been waiting for me to make a move on you?"

"Exactly. Was I not being obvious enough? I didn't want to out you or anything..."

"No... in retrospect you were being very clear. All of Robins cryptic advice makes so much sense now. Oh, God, even Wayne figured it out."

[scekrex]

Consider chasing dick instead of pussy

prompt by @akiriyo

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & implied sexual intimacy I guess

note: not beta read bc idc

You were completely zoned out, your hand was supporting your head so that it wouldn't slap down on the table.

It was yet another day of Adam complaining - seriously the guy was complaining more about his ex wives than you two were having a normal conversation about anything else. Because no matter what you were talking about, Adam somehow always found a way to talk about Lilith and Eve. And once started, his ranting could go on for hours, there were countless nights without sleep simply because the man wouldn't stop talking about his fucking cheating bitches of ex wives. And with every other sentence he then claimed that ‘he’s totally over it’ and that he doesn't need them anyways.

Fucking bullshit.

“Yo, are you even listening, bitch?” the first man asked all of a sudden, fingers snapping in front of your face to get your attention.

“You should've dated a fucking guy instead of these bitches, y’know. All fucking day you keep complaining about how awful they were, how they cheated on you with Lucifer, how they betrayed you and how you'll never be able to get into a healthy relationship with a woman ever again because of those two cunts. Well then fucking quit chasing after pussy and try dick, you fucking idiot.” In all honesty? You really didn't know where that came from nor were you sure if Adam had been able to understand you because of how fast you were talking but by God it felt good. 

Because for once there was silence. Pure, blissful silence.

“What?” was all that came from your counterpart. His golden eyes were widened, confusion was written all over his face and he seemed truly taken aback. You simply huffed, now that you had started it, you might've might as well finish it.

“Y’know all I hear from you lately is ‘That whore Lilith did this’ and ‘Fuckin cheating cunt Eve did that' fucking quit it already and date guys. If you would've looked at me back in Eden for once, just fucking once, you would've been able to save yourself a lot of trouble. But instead you were chasing bitches that were rather bouncing on fucking Lucifer's dick than yours.”

His expression changed, confusion was replaced with realization and you just thanked God that this man seemed to have enough of his brain left to catch on to what you were saying.

“Fuck, you-” the brunette started. He had sure been expecting something but this? This wasn't something he had been noticing, not until you brought it up that was. “You were visiting Eden because of me?”

“Ding, ding, full points. You want a fucking trophy for being able to follow my words?” you bit back, slightly annoyed by his oblivion. Had Adam really been that blind to not notice the ways you've been staring at him a little longer than friends did? That you were always there for him, no matter how late, no matter what?

Adam's expression soured slightly at your choice of words and he shot a quick “Fuck you” your way. “You could've just fucking said so y’know.” Another huff escaped you as you got up from the chair you were sitting on to be on eye level with him - Adam was still sitting on the chair across the small table. “I could've just said so? Are you kidding? I've been fucking trying to but every time I tried you brought up your ex whores.”

Adam was silent again, he did nothing but to simply look you in the eyes.

That was until he grabbed you by the collar of your robe and pulled you in roughly. You stumbled slightly forwards, your knees hitting against his as your arm shot towards the backrest of the chair Adam was sitting on in order to not collapse on top of him. And then his lips brushed against yours, harshly and firm, far from soft and lovingly. One of his hands wandered to your neck, he made sure you wouldn't pull away too soon. But you weren't thinking about ending the kiss, you had been waiting for thousands of years for this to happen.

Adam parted his legs to pull you in closer, your chest was now flush against his and his hand that had been gripping your collar just moments ago was now on your ass.

And all you were able to think about was that you now had an effective method to shut Adam up properly.

[hellodarling1357]

#26 for the Cassian thing where reader is an IC member too and maybe them and Cassian have been seeing each other in secret for a while but Cass doesn't wanna tell anyone yet because he doesn't wanna mess up the dynamic or make things awkward for the rest of them but then all the stuff happens and Nesta comes along and reader's just sad and pissed because they're worried Cass is in love with Nesta now and secret plot twist oh no reader knows them and Cass are mates but it hasn't snapped for him yet so reader is losing it inside but obviously they can't tell any of their closest friends because Cassian still wants it to be a secret

even if you don't want to write this I hope you're having a great day/night ✩

Forever Tied - Cassian x Reader

Hello hello 🥰

The original prompt list I reblogged has disappeared for some reason so now I have no idea what #26 actually was but I did my best with the request you sent me so hopefully this still works, sorry Anon! I've made it extra long to make up for it!

Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 9.3k

Rhys was trapped Under the Mountain and there was nothing you could do to help. You had crumbled upon hearing his voice in your mind that last time, having no idea what this meant for your friend, your court, or even for Prythian. You hadn’t even realised you had fallen to your knees until a familiar, warm body had knelt next to you and pulled you into their shaking arms.

Cassian had been in the city centre of Velaris when he had heard, all plans for the day disappearing as the realisation of what had happened hit him full blast. Without thinking, he flew back to the House of Wind, unable and unwilling to process this alone. Although, subconsciously, there was really only one person he wanted to be with in that moment. Azriel would have distanced himself upon hearing the news, Amren was at her apartment, and Mor was at the town house, leaving only you in the House of Wind.

He stumbled in his rush as he landed on the balcony and raced inside. His heart broke even further at the sounds of muffled sobs that echoed towards him. In a blind haze he followed the sounds and found you on the ground, as though your legs had completely given out, unable to bare the weight of what had occurred. Without thinking, Cassian was beside you, pulling you into his arms as he rubbed soothing circles across your back, despite the way his own hands shook as tears threatened to burn at his eyes.

Your breathing eventually evened out, the only trace of your tears were the tracks along your cheeks and the redness of your eyes. Turning in his arms, you looked up at Cassian as though only just properly noticing that he was the comforting, warm presence that brought you back from your distressed state.

“We have to do something,” Your voice was a croaked whisper, “I know he said he put up a shield, but there has to be something we can do to help.”

The shaky inhale of Cassian’s breath told you enough. He didn’t think there was anything that could be done. Truthfully, you didn’t either.

You looked at your friend in awe as a singular tear streaked down his face, followed by another, and another. In all the centuries you had been friends, the sight of the male in front of you crying was one you had very rarely witnessed.

“Cass,” You lifted a hand to his face, gently brushing away his tears. Cassian was always the one who held everyone and everything together, and if this was the one time he openly showed he needed someone else to keep from falling apart, you would more than willingly be that person for him. “It’s going to be okay, alright? We’ll figure something out. And Rhys… well, it’s Rhys. He’s going to be just fine.”

The watery smile you gave him didn’t quite meet your eyes, the expression quickly replaced with alarm as Cassian’s breathing quickened, eyes screwed shut as though trying to compose himself. This you had never seen. Cassian completely losing control, his body shaking against yours as sobs escaped his throat.

“He’s gone,” The strangled sound that came from him had your heart splitting in two. “Amarantha, she will…she’s already…” He couldn’t seem to find the words, or couldn’t bear the thought of saying what was running through his head with Amarantha being involved.

“We’ll get him back.” You soothed, hands reaching up as you guided his head into the crook of your neck, fingers running through his dark wave of hair.

But he wasn’t calming, if anything, Cassian found himself spiralling further and further out of control, the emotions and the ‘what ifs’ sending him into a state of panic where even your comforting presence could do nothing to sooth his hyperventilating breaths, the tears, and the shaking that racked through him.

“Cass?” You pulled back, trying to force him to look at you. “Cassian? Hey, I need you to open your eyes, just focus on me, okay? There you go. Now just take in one deep breathe, alright? Just one, that’s all I need you to do. Okay, and again. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

Cassian’s hazel eyes stared into yours as you talked him through his breathing, your hands soothingly moving up and down his arms as you knelt in front of him and offered a comforting smile as you watched his panic slowly ebb away.

“Y/N, I­—" Cassian started, eyes wide as he gulped and continued staring at you. Before you could blink or react in anyway, he was surging forward; one hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, the other was gently placed on your thigh, and then his lips were hurriedly pressed against yours. You stilled and tensed in his grasp, it was all too much after everything else that had happened, but still… Maybe a distraction is what you both needed. So instead of pulling away, you leant into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him even closer, and kissing him back with such an urgency that a moan sounded in the back of his throat.

“Y/N,” he muttered against your lips, forehead resting against your own, his breath brushing across your face as it came out in heavy pants.

You just shushed him, also refusing to move too far away. “I know, it’s fine. Just a distraction.”

He looked at you for one more blink and then hungrily pressed against you, this time lowering you to the floor, his muscled body hovering over yours as you lost yourselves in the moment, desperate to forget what had happened and all that was yet to transpire.

*****

Afterwards, you lay on the floor next to one another in the, now dark, room. The combination of your heavy breathes were the only sounds that broke through the silence.

Cassian let out a sigh followed by a chuckle, “Well that was one hell of a distraction.”

You turned your head to look at him and let out a quiet, breathless laugh. Yes, it had been a momentary distraction but now what had happened to Rhys, to Prythian, hung heavy in the room. Cassian turned on his side, leaning up on one arm as he faced you, taking in your still flushed, blissed out expression that now had something akin to pain creeping across it.

“Hey,” He gently grabbed your hand and soothed his thumb across the back of it. “Like you said, we’re alright. And we will get him back.”

You nodded at him then pulled yourself up, tugging your shirt back on before throwing Cassian his discarded clothes.

“Come on, we should find the others. Try to figure something out.”

*****

And that was that.

There was no mention of what had happened between the two of you. No comment on the fact that it had been, without a doubt, and despite the current situation you found yourselves in, the best sex either of you had ever had.

No, even when it happened again three weeks later, and then one week after that, and four days after that, again, and again, and again, it remained an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That momentary distraction where you could lose yourselves in the pleasure of one another and forget about the mess you were left to deal with.

That was how it worked for the next few years. You and Cassian falling into a routine of comfort that you were unable, unwilling, to get from anyone else. You had no idea if the rest of the Inner Circle were aware of what was going on; in terms of your friendship, nothing had changed, there were just additional benefits that came with it now. It didn’t mean anything more.

That is, of course, until your routine had morphed into something that felt like it was on the precipice of something else.

The sex was just as mind-blowingly passionate, however, there were now some instances where it was a bit slower and less frantic, more whispered words and lingering touches. Where the two of you used to chat afterwards, an arm’s worth of distance between you as you slipped back into your normal friendship until the other one left to return to their own room, you now found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, hands softly caressing skin until you both drifted into a restful sleep.

Which is where you now found yourself; wrapped up in Cassian’s arms as he softly snored against you, hand tightly holding onto yours and legs tangled together. You eased out of his grasp, careful not to disturb him and lent against the headboard with a sigh. Usually, you would wake the next morning, offer a small smile, then get on with your day, Rhys’ absence still a clear focus for you all. However, lately you had found yourself letting your mind drift more and more, especially in moments like these where Cassian was still beside you and the bubble you lost yourselves in was yet to be broken.

Each and every time you hated yourself for it, guilt taking over until you forcefully pushed the thoughts away, but you couldn’t help but think that, at some point, you all needed to continue your lives and break away from the standstill existence you had been in since Amarantha took over.

You would never say it out loud, but as the years went on, you had lost all hope of ever getting Rhys back. And if that were the case, and as much as you wished it weren’t, at some point you had to start living for yourselves again. Deep down, in the dark and quiet moments when you awoke and the house was fast asleep, you knew exactly what you wanted that life to look like.

You let out another sigh and looked at Cassian, softly brushing some stray hair away from his face and taking the time to really study his sleep-softened features. You hadn’t meant for it to get this far, but after centuries of friendship, and now the years of intimacy you had shared, the love you felt for Cassian had grown and taken form into a whole different avenue of affection. You were in love with him. You loved him and your heart ached at the thought of it because if you allowed yourself this one bit of happiness into your life, the solidarity and support that Cassian provided, then you couldn’t help but think of it as forgetting about Rhys and the torture he had been enduring whilst you were slowly and deeply falling head over heels with one of your best friends.

The worst part of it was that you were certain Cassian felt the same way about you. The way he held you and touched you, the words he whispered into your ear as you were both tangled, panting messes and then the dazed murmurings that were uttered into the silence afterwards, the longing glances he would give you when the others weren’t looking…

What had started as a desperate distraction and pure, physical need had grown into something so much more meaningful and intimate. And yet you both refused to acknowledge that it was anything other than sex as a means to cope with the instability in your lives.

“Hey,” You hadn’t realised Cassian had stirred, his gruff, sleep-filled voice tearing you away from your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Your expression pulled in confusion at the sudden worry in his voice as he sat up and grasped your hand. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

It wasn’t until his fingers were reaching up to brush away the tears on your cheeks that you realised you had been silently crying.

“I… I don’t know.” You said with a slight sniffle.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cassian pulled you into his lap, your head resting on his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of your head and rubbed soothing patterns across your back. The unfairness of the situation had you stifling a small sob, Cassian’s embrace reminding you of exactly what you were missing.

“Want to talk about it?” He murmured into your hair, followed by another kiss.

Whether it was the build-up of emotions or your complete and utter exhaustion, you didn’t know and didn’t care. You sat up in Cassian’s arms, desperately looking for any form of confirmation that what you were about to say wouldn’t ruin everything, then took a deep breath.

“This…whatever this is between us, I can’t keep doing it. Not how it is now,” You were too caught up to notice the heartbroken expression that flashed across his face.

Cassian had willingly fallen into this arrangement and would happily continue to do so if it meant he could pretend, even for just a few hours a day, that you were his, and he was yours. There had always been a part of him that had been completely and utterly in love with you. And then when he found out Rhys had been trapped by Amarantha, his emotions had been a surging mess, so he acted on instinct and a selfish need for the upmost form of comfort and risked it all by kissing you. Now the thought that this one bit of joy he allowed himself was being ripped away, another thing he would be losing, sent his heart racing as he waited for the final blow of your words.

“It hurts too much.” You continued, looking down at your intertwined hands before pulling away.

Cassian looked up at you in confusion, “What hurts too much?”

“This. Us,” A shaky laugh escaped you as you gestured to the empty space between you, throwing all caution to the wind as you said, “I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t anything more than a distraction. Not when I have fallen so deeply in love with you that the thought of never…”

You were cut off by Cassian all but picking you up and kissing you with such passion that you couldn’t stop your toes from curling or the small whimper that escaped your throat.

“You love me?” His voice was breathless and gravelly, barely above a whisper. You opened your eyes, his forehead rested against yours, eyes squeezed shut as though trying to hold onto the moment.

“Yes.”

A joyful laugh sounded from him and reverberated through you as his lips found yours again, tongue trailing along your bottom lip before you parted them for him.

Your mind was racing yet you couldn’t form a coherent thought, pulling away in a desperate attempt to catch your breath.

“Good.”

“Cass?”

“Good. Because I have loved you since we first met and I can’t lose you, not now.”

You grinned at him before pulling his face down to meet yours and slamming your lips to his. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, he had been starting to feel something that was more than friendship too. But the idea of him loving you for that long made your heart skip a beat and had butterflies fluttering up a storm in your stomach.

“I feel horrible,” You admitted, quick to clarify at the affronted look Cassian gave you. “It just feels wrong, like we’re betraying Rhys. We don’t…we don’t even know if he is alive, Cass. I want this, with you, more than anything. But it doesn’t feel right while everything is so…” You trailed off, unable to meet his gaze as Cassian watched you with a look of contemplation.

“So we don’t say anything. We can keep it between us, at least for now. We’ve gotten this far without the others asking questions. I love you, so much, and as much as I want everyone to know, I get what you mean. So we don’t say anything until we get him back. And we will get him back, I know we will. Alright?" You nodded; eyes wide as you grasped his calloused hands in yours.

“Besides, I basically sleep here every night anyway. Nothing will really change between us, just that I can now tell you and show you that I love you, instead of having to force the words down every time you so much as look at me.” A blush spread across your cheeks at his words and the wink that followed, but you didn’t care to hide it, instead simply giving him a dazzling smile that sent his heart racing.

He pulled you in for another kiss, murmuring “I love you” as he guided you back down onto the mattress.

“I love you too—" But a loud yawn escaped your mouth, cutting off the rest of your words and sending you into a small fit of giggles.

“Alright, we’ll continue this tomorrow,” Cassian now laughed with you. “Come on, it���s late. Get some sleep.”

You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his chest, the comforting and familiar scent had you drifting off in a matter of minutes.

*****

Cassian had been right, not a lot in your dynamic had changed over the years after that night, other than the giddying comfort of knowing that he was yours, and you were his. You weren’t foolish enough to think that the others hadn’t picked up on the slight shift, especially when Cassian had waltzed out of your room one morning only to come face to face with Azriel. You just assumed that they thought you were sleeping together, nothing more.

Then when Rhys returned, you had been, obviously, overjoyed. Not wanting to bombard him with too much on his first night back, you and Cassian had decided later that night once you were back in your room, to hold off on saying anything about your relationship until Rhys had settled back in.

Then everything else had happened.

The arrival of Feyre and her sisters. Hybern and the cauldron. The war and near fatal injuries spread throughout your tight-knit group. It was all too much.

You and Cassian had been discussing back and forth for months: do you tell them or keep hiding it. Ultimately, keeping your relationship secret is what you always landed on. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were just finding excuses at this point to keep yourselves in your happy little bubble when so much threated to burst it.

Initially, you hadn’t wanted to rub your relationship in Rhys’ face when he was so clearly pining after Feyre who wanted nothing to do with him. Then their mating bond clicked, and you didn’t want to take away or overshadow their happiness with your own. The threat from Hybern felt like you would be playing with fire; if the King of Hybern found out… it was too great a risk when your enemies could use it against you.

Between it all, you still found time to be together; not once did the love you felt for one another falter. But with each excuse, and with each passing month, the decision wore on you more and more.

And then Rhys asked Cassian to take on Nesta.

You felt for her, you really did, but the time and energy Cassian put into helping her had a pit forming in your stomach. At the end of each day, when you were tucked tightly into his chest and his sweet nothings were whispered across your bare skin, you felt silly for ever thinking that he was losing interest in you. Yet, that feeling lingered just that little bit longer with each passing day and with each moment spent away from him when he was, instead, occupied with her.

*****

You had been away in the Summer Court the night that Nesta had hallucinated about being back in the cauldron. After you finished reporting to Rhys upon your return the following night, he had told you what had happened with her silver flames and how Cassian had managed to bring her out of it. With worry for all of them, you got back to the House of Wind as soon as you could but couldn’t find Cassian, Azriel, or Nesta anywhere. It wasn’t until later when you were getting ready for bed that there was a knock on your bedroom door. What you didn’t expect was to find Cassian on the other side of it, you weren’t sure why he suddenly decided to start knocking on the door to the room you had shared for the past 50 years.

With a quizzical look you pulled him inside the room and lent up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him instantly wrapping his arms around your frame to pull you in tighter against him.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, trailing lingering kisses down your neck that had a soft moan escaping you.

“I missed you. Rhys told me what happened here, are you alright? Is Nesta?”

Cassian pulled back, pressing another kiss to your lips then the tip of your nose before grabbing your hands and leading you to the couch by the fireplace.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” You remained silent, your doubt erupting in you as you waited for him to continue with bated breath. “We moved her to a closer room, next door to our, your, room, so that if something like that happens again one of us will know straight away.”

Cassian pulled back slightly, studying your features as though waiting for a reaction. You expression remained impassive; you could feel the other shoe about to drop and wanted him to tell you without beating around the bush.

“But,” He sighed, lifting your hand up and pressing a kiss to it, “I think, just for now, at least until things calm down a bit, I should go back to sleeping in my old room.”

“No.”

“Y/N – “

“No, Cassian,” You were shaking your head at him, not caring if you sounded needy or whiny or any of it. “This is the only time we can just be us. It’s already hard enough with keeping it a secret from everyone, I can’t lose this.”

“We decided, together, to keep this between us, there’s too much going on. And I don’t think Nesta will appreciate hearing us through the walls…” You cut him off with a scoff.

“Are you fucking serious, Cass? Are you worried about everyone finding out, or are you worried about Nesta finding out?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I never get to see you because you’re always with her. And now, because of her again, everything that our relationship is needs to go on hold? It’s not fair that after 50 years all I get is a few hours at the end of the day and to be kept your secret from everyone we care about.” You spat the word, all your emotions and fears finally bubbling over, however irrational they may be, but you had had enough.

“Sweetheart, we agreed that it’s for the best that we keep this between ourselves – “

“Well, I don’t agree anymore, Cass. I don’t want it like this. And don’t condescend me.” Your voice had a sharp snap to it. You needed something. Needed something other than the heartbreak that you could feel fast approaching; and a fight sounded like the next best thing.

“I’m not being condescending,” You could sense Cassian’s temper rising. “You can’t suddenly be angry because you’ve changed your mind without saying anything to me. And Nesta has nothing to do with this, it’s for...”

But the rest of his words became a blur at the sudden, incessant tug that pulled at your chest; that pulled you towards the male in front of you.

He was your mate.

Cassian was your mate.

You couldn’t do this, not now when you were in the middle of a fight. Not when Cassian didn’t even seem to be aware – or seem to care, a small voice taunted – of what had just happened. You needed to get away from him, to calm down and think before it could get even more out of hand.

“Cassian, just… Whatever, it’s fine. I’m tired, so just go back to your room, okay? We’ll figure the rest out later. I’m just…tired.” You finished lamely, voice cracking slightly as you watched him look you over, his frustration still evident, before walking out and loudly shutting the door behind him.

You slumped down, holding your knees to your chest as the sobs began. You had thought, had hoped, that Cassian was your mate. But this wasn’t how it was meant to go. Not mid-fight, with him having no idea of the bond’s existence while telling you he no longer wants to share your bed.

Having been so caught up in your thoughts and the overflooding emotions, you missed the flickering of shadows that darted around you. Moments later there was another knock on your door. Wiping your eyes, you called out in a chocked voice, “come in,” assuming it was Cassian.

Instead, Azriel quickly opened the door, closing it just as fast, before taking in the sight before him and making his way over to you.

“Y/N?” You could only sniffle in response, gratefully leaning against his side when his arm wrapped around you. “You alright?”

You remained silent for a few minutes, focusing on Azriel’s comforting hand brushing up and down your arm as you worked to control your breathing and halt your tears.

“I’m fine.” Your voice was hoarse and not at all convincing.

“Want to try that again?” You sent your elbow into his ribs, making the Shadowsinger chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

With a sigh he asked, “This has nothing to do with the fact that Cassian is suddenly sleeping in his room for the first time in, what? 50 years?”

You gaped up at your friend in shock and at a loss for words.

“You knew?

“Of course I knew. I live here too, remember? As subtle as you might think you’re being, I’ve got these,” His shadows danced around, reminding you that it was stupid to even entertain the idea that Azriel wouldn’t know.

“Oh,” A fresh set of tears filled your eyes and you stared intently into the flickering fire.

“Can you please take me to the town house? I don’t… I can’t be here.” Despite the late hour, you knew he would do anything for you in a heartbeat. While you and Cassian had been friends for decades before anything more had happened, you and Az had been close from the start, instant friends as soon as you had met.

“Of course.”

He waited for you by your bedroom door as you pulled together a small bag of your belongings, not knowing when you would be back.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You didn’t turn to give the room that held so many memories a final glance as you shut the door behind you and followed Azriel out onto the balcony.

*****

Thankfully, the town house was dark and empty when you arrived, giving you the space and silence to process your thoughts and feelings. You had thanked Azriel for flying you over and had said a quick goodnight before you walked inside and headed upstairs.

Sitting on your bed, you vacantly stared at the wall, lost in thought as the minutes ticked by. You jumped at the sudden dip of the mattress beside you, only to find Azriel sitting there fixing you with a look of concern, a steaming cup of tea extended towards you.

“Thanks,” You murmured, taking a sip and revelling in the slight burn as the liquid went down your throat. “I thought you went home.”

“Not yet. Didn’t want to leave you alone like this.” There was a beat of silence before, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,”

You let out a weary sigh, content on sitting in silence but your thoughts quickly became too much, and you found yourself blurting out, “He’s my mate.”

Azriel whipped around to face you, shock coating his features.

“What? They didn’t tell you?” You gestured to the shadows that skittered around him with a sad smile.

“For how long? I thought you were just sleeping together.” He trailed off, giving you an uncharacteristically sheepish expression as you let out a somewhat bitter laugh.

“It started that way, when Rhys…left,” You whispered, revelling in finally telling someone even though it may well be over. “It was a distraction from the shit show that was going on, but then it just kept happening.” Azriel remained silent, letting you talk.

“A few years in, I realised I had fallen in love with him,” you voice cracked but you kept going, “Then he told me he loved me too. Said he had for a while.”

Azriel chuckled lightly, “That’s an understatement. He was infatuated with you from the moment you met. I knew something was going on or something had at least happened when he suddenly stopped talking to me about you whenever you weren’t there.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks at his words, but with a look and a comforting squeeze of his hand, you let out a shuddering breath and continued, “That was five years into Rhys being gone, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Five years into… But Y/N, how? That means for over 45 years, the two of you have been…” You sniffed as he put the math together and watched as his eyes widened at the realisation. “How come you never told us?”

“We felt guilty that we found some type of happiness together when Rhys was trapped – “

“He wouldn’t have cared. He would have been happy for you; for both of you” Azriel interjected.

“I know,” You smiled sadly, “But it just didn’t feel right. And then he got back, and everything with Feyre and Hybern happened – it was never the right time.”

You could tell he was still confused, hurt even, about the two of you keeping your relationship private for so long, but he didn’t push you.

“I don’t know how I missed it.” He said, seemingly to himself.

“You only half missed it,” You joked, nudging his arm to try to ease the tension in the room. “We tried to act the same, things were just different when we were alone.”

“When did you realise you were mates?” You inhaled sharply, your earlier fight rushing back to you.

“Tonight. We were arguing and I just felt this tug and knew. He doesn’t know – at least I don’t think he knows.” You voiced your doubts, the weight of them getting the better of you.

“If he knew, he would refuse to leave your side. It just hasn’t snapped into place for him yet.” You gave your friend an appreciative smile and lent your head on his shoulder.

“I’m so tired.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll come back in the morning to check on you. You’re alright here?”

“Thanks Az.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaving the room; leaving you alone to finally mull over the fight, your emotions, and the fact that Cassian was your mate.

*****

“What’s up with you?” Mor plopped into the seat beside you, handing you a glass of wine that you gratefully took.

“Nothing,” You quickly murmured as the others traipsed into the dining room. You were aware of Cassian edging towards you and held in a sigh of relief when Azriel suddenly appeared in the seat on your other side.

It had been a week since you left the House of Wind to stay at the town house. A week since your fight with Cassian when you realised exactly what he was to you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye. Despite his best efforts to get you alone over the past few days, you conveniently managed to slip away every time. Tonight’s family dinner was the closest you had been to him all week, the realisation only making your longing for him even more dire – especially now that you were aware of that insistent tug that pulled you towards him.

Dinner was no different to how it usually went, except for the fact that you hardly said a word, opting to keep your eyes focused on the food in front of you. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice that Cassian also didn’t utter a single word throughout the meal, the only difference between you both was that his eyes were fixed on you, not his plate.

You jumped up as soon as everyone had finished eating, wanting to help clear the plates so you could get out and go home as soon as possible, not wanting to prolong the night for any longer than it needed to be. Too bad for you, Cassian was acutely attuned to your movements and jumped out of his seat seconds after to help in a desperate attempt to have at least one moment to talk to you.

Filling the sink with hot, soapy water, you sensed, rather than saw, Cassian follow you into the kitchen, body tensing up as he silently walked to your side. You worked in silence, scrapping dishes, washing plates, drying, and putting away. Cassian’s eyes were fixed on you, brows furrowing further with every passing moment you continued to ignore him.

“Y/N,” His voice was quiet, unsure. So different to his usual tone that it had you involuntarily turning to face him. Your heart stammered in your chest, the longing and hurt and confusion that had been tearing you apart in your time away from him threatened to burst as you finally met his hazel stare. “Are you… Are we okay? You just left and I had to find out from Az that you’re staying at the town house and now you can barely even look at me.”

His words came out hurried, frantic, as though if he spoke any slower you would disappear. Guilt flooded you at the hurt you found in his eyes, but your anger was still very much present, the lingering fear of him choosing Nesta over you held too strong for you to succumb to those feelings of guilt.

“I just need some time.” Voice barely above a whisper, you inwardly cursed as your vision blurred over with tears.

“Time for what? Y/N I don’t know what’s going on–”

“You both okay?”

Neither you nor Cassian heard Azriel approach, both turning to gape at your friend who hesitantly stood in the doorway.

“Fine. Just fine.” You pushed past him on your way out, not giving Cassian a second glance as you entered the spacious loungeroom to say goodnight to everyone. A few moments later the pair walked in after you, you missed the loaded glances they shared, not privy to the hurried conversation they had after you left the kitchen where Cassian had all but begged Azriel to intervene, to allow him the chance to finally talk to you.

“Hey, Y/N?” You turned to look expectantly at Azriel. “Did you still need me to fly you up to the House of Wind for that book?”

“Oh. Yeah, if that’s alright?” In your rush to get away the night you left you had forgotten to pack the next book you had been planning to read.

“Does tonight work? If you’re just about to head off…”

“Sure, I was just going to go…home.” Your voice trailed at the end, willing the blush away as you kept your head held high. You felt as though you didn’t know what home was anymore.

“Great, Cassian was just about to leave as well. He’ll take you up there.” With a clap to Cassian’s shoulder, Azriel sauntered over to where Rhys and Amren were talking, brushing off their questioning glances as he pointedly ignored you, allowing no room for dispute.

“Oh…”

“Is that alright?” You tensed at Cassian’s voice, glancing over your shoulder to find his wary eyes on you. It wasn’t like you could say no, it was not alright, without making a scene. You would be having words with Azriel the next time you saw him; judging by the slight smirk he was wearing, he seemed to assume just as much.

“Erm, yes. If that’s okay?” Cassian simply nodded before gesturing to the front door and, after another quick goodbye to everyone, you found yourselves outside. Another fumbled moment, then you were held tightly in Cassian’s arms with the rush of the crisp night air and an uncomfortable silence engulfing you both as he flew you towards the House of Wind.

You couldn’t stand the awkwardness. It had never been like this between the two of you and you hated that this is what it had come to. The relationship you shared, whether that be friendship or more, it had always come so naturally. Now you were faced with a stilted, tense atmosphere, not quite knowing what to say or where you stood. Then there had been the fight. Sure, you had argued before, after decades of knowing each other, you were bound to come into some disagreements along the way. But you had never had a fight like this, where you had both been so riled up, fuming at the other to the point where you had both stormed away and then not spoken for days. You hated it.

So caught up in your thoughts, you missed the slight detour Cassian was taking you on, only noticing once you were placed back on your feet and found yourself in the middle of the training ring, rather than the usual balcony that led into the house itself.

“What…”

“We’re hashing this out. Right now.”

“You want to…fight?”

“What?” Cassian did a double take, as if just connecting the location with why you would think that. “No, I don’t want to fight. That’s the problem, we are fighting. This just seemed like the most private place to work things out.”

You eyed him hesitantly, not knowing what you wanted your next step to be, especially when the urge to wrap your arms around him and inhale the scent that was so him, the scent that had become home, was so strong.

“So, words or swords?” Your eyes snapped to Cassian as he fiddled with the one of the discarded swords you usually sparred with.

Words

You wanted words. To talk this all out and be done with it, whichever way that turned out to be. But then an image flashed across your mind; an image of Cassian standing up here with Nesta, hands guiding her into the correct form, fingers shifting along her own to straighten her hold on the blade…

Without a single word, you walked to where Cassian was and hauled your own blade up.

“Okay then.” There was a slight smirk on Cassian’s face as he followed behind you into the centre of the training ring. The quirk of his eyebrow was all you needed before you were moving towards him, swords meeting with a clash that pierced the night.

You didn’t think about the moves you were making, giving way to centuries of refined and well-practiced instinct. Cassian was stronger, you knew he would hold out for longer, but you were well matched for now. Both of your foreheads started to sheen in sweat, pants of exertion echoed alongside the clank and clash of swords, and as you moved around and against one another, you finally let out all of your pent-up emotions until you had nothing left.

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” You gasped before dropping the sword and falling to your knees, tears streamed down your face at the sudden emotional outlet. Cassian was by your side in an instant, his sword dropped to the ground in a ricochetting crash.

“Y/N,” His voice was alert, on-edge, eyes dancing over you as he tried to work out what was wrong. “Are you hurt?” The frantic tone now had sobs racking from your chest, shaking your head you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried and cried and cried. Without a second thought, Cassian had his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as he softly caressed your back and whispered soothing words into your ear.

He stayed silent, giving you the time and space to calm down and filter through your thoughts. Not once rushing you or demanding answers after a week of uncertainty.

“I’m sorry, Cass. I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I just…” At least you managed to get a few words out before you were overcome with tears once again. You weren’t sure what they were for at this point with so many thoughts and scenarios racing through your head: the fight, Cassian being your mate, Cassian getting close with Nesta, Cassian leaving you, Cassian leaving you for Nesta, and then you being forced to watch them be together, knowing you couldn’t stand the thought of him not being in your life, in whatever capacity you were granted.

“Shhh,” He soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he softly rocked you back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

With a deep breath, you nodded against his chest in an attempt to compose yourself. Noting in the position you were in, you could have laughed if you weren’t feeling so empty and deflated; this is how you had both gotten into this in the first place, all those years ago when you thought you would never see Rhys again – both of you with your arms around each other, crying and saying everything was going to be okay. Only this time, you weren’t so sure if the strength of your relationship would hold.

“Please, talk to me, Y/N. What’s going through that head of yours.”

You couldn’t take not knowing what was going to happen any longer. So with a final sniffle, you leant back, sitting on the ground beside him and pulling your knees up to your chest as you held your arms tightly around yourself.

“I don’t know where to start…”

“What about when you decided you wanted the others to know?” There was no malice in his voice, only gentle concern that prodded you to continue.

“I’ve always wanted the others to know,” You ignored Cassian’s slight indignation, “But it was never the right time, what with everything that was happening then, and everything that’s happened since. It felt like the right decision at the time, it felt safe. It was nice knowing that this was just for us when so much was going wrong. But I want to be with you outside of our room. I want to be able to hold your hand and walk through Velaris, kiss you in front of our friends, not pretend that you don’t mean the world to me, because you do Cassian.”

He remained quiet, letting you talk and giving you the space to get everything off your chest but the lingering presence of his hand drawing soothing circles across your back had you feeling grounded. “I love you and the thought of losing you has been tearing me apart.” You winced at the tremor in your voice, gaze fixed on the ground in front of you.

You didn’t dare mention the fact that you were mates. Not yet. He deserved the chance to properly say what needed to be said, without the cauldron’s interference tying him down if he did, in fact, want to leave.

“Why do you think you’re losing me?” Cassian’s voice was quiet and contemplative, as though processing everything you had said but not quite connecting the dots. The kiss to the side of your head had you inhaling a shaky breath and you forced yourself to will away the tears that threatened to spill.

“We’ve been so distant lately; we never get to see each other. And, look, I know it’s for Rhys, but I’m away all the time, and you’re always with Nesta. Then the other night when you said you didn’t want to share our room anymore, and that you were afraid she would find out… I don’t know, I guess it all just became too much.” You could feel his eyes on you but the blush burning your cheeks had you refusing to meet his gaze.

A moment later, Cassian softly said, “I never said I didn’t want to share a room with you, believe me, I want to spend every moment I can with you–” You made a noise of protest, but Cassian gently shushed you before continuing. “But Rhys and Feyre need Nesta to be okay and he’s given that job to me. I should’ve spoken to you about it first or explained it better when I said I was going to sleep in my old room. But you saw what Nesta was like before we got her up here, I didn’t think her seeing, or hearing, us together would be all that helpful – especially when she was using sex as a way to cope with everything.”

“Oh…” You felt stupid. Stupid and selfish and completely undeserving of the amazing, considerate male beside you.

“And,” Cassan continued with a playful nudge of his shoulder, “You have no idea how much I want everyone to know about us. No idea how hard it has been to not tell everyone that this amazing, brilliant, strong, kind female is mine. And just how hard it has been seeing other males so much as look at you without being able to say anything to them.”

You still couldn’t tear your eyes from the ground in front of you, but Cassian noticed the soft smile tugging at your lips.

“Cauldron, if you want, I can fly us back to the River House right now. We can tell everyone exactly what’s been going on, you can kiss me in front of all of our friends then we can go into Velaris, I’ll even let you hold my hand as we walk around.” Another playful nudge had you softly chuckling, eyes finally darting over to look at Cassian. Your heart faltered at the expression on his face, the complete love and adoration that laced his features as he watched you, his own mouth pulling into a smile at the laugh he managed to pull from you.

“Yeah?” Your voice was still slightly hoarse from your previous tears, but it was a touch lighter. You felt lighter.

“Yeah.” Cassian stretched his legs out in front of him, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, leaning back on the other.

Still, some doubt lingered. It couldn’t be this easy. Things were never this easy.

“So, you’re not going to leave me?” You couldn’t remember the last time you felt shy in front of him, and you hated yourself for asking, hated that he might think you weak, needy, pathetic – the words raced around, threatening to send you into a panic.

“Never,” That one word had you relaxing immediately. “You would have to force me to leave you, and even then… I’m not going aware, Sweetheart.”

You could have melted at his words. You swore you did as you leant against him, letting out a small sigh of relief, a breath you had been holding for days, weeks, months.

“Y/N?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the words whispered into your ear as his breath fanned across your skin. “Can I please kiss you now?”

You tilted your head up to face him, a small smile gracing your features as he slanted his lips over your own and you immediately felt as though you had returned home.

Pulling away all too quickly, your lips desperately chased his, only to receive a playful peck in response before Cassian was helping you to your feet.

“Come on,”

“Cass?” You laugh was laced with confusion, yet you followed him anyway, watching as he picked up the discarded sparring swords and placing them back alongside the others.

“What? We’ve got some news to share,” He stole another quick kiss as he laced your hands together.

“Now?”

“Yes now,” He mocked with a playful grin, “I don’t want to waste another moment, especially when it has you feeling as though–”

The abrupt stop to Cassian’s words had the smile slipping from your face as you took in his wide eyes and startled expression.

“Cassian, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N… You’re…” He let out a disbelieving laugh as he continued to stare at you, drinking in every feature, every miniscule detail and expression that crossed your face. Turning your head, you tried to look around for the cause of his sudden change in demeanour, only to be met with gentle, yet calloused, hands cupping your face, urging you to meet his gaze before his lips were pressed over yours again.

Despite the confusion, you gratefully accepted and leant into the kiss, relaxing as his arms draped around your waist and as you let your fingers travel up his neck before tangling into his hair. Cassian was breathing heavily when he pulled away, you could hear the pounding of his heart as he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes remained tightly shut, the feel of his lashes fluttering across your skin sent your own heart fluttering in response.

Then he mumbled something incoherently; too quiet and smothered for you to even begin to comprehend.

“Hmm?” You asked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Another murmur had you pulling away, eyebrows furrowing as you took in his dumbfounded expression and the way his eyes were still tightly shut. But there was now a smile tugging at his lips.

“Cass?”

“Mate. You’re my mate.” His eyes snapped open, revealing complete, utter joy as he stared at you with wonder and bewilderment.

Oh. Right.

“And you’re my mate.” At least you didn’t have to keep this to yourself any longer.

Cassian tilted his head as he processed your reaction and the way your lips spread into a soft, loving smile.

“You knew. You already knew.” Although his voice was laced with exasperation, his face held nothing but love and giddy excitement, eyes bright as he met yours. You sent a wave of affirmation down the newly linked bond, watching with joy as Cassian’s eyes lit up even further at the sensation. You knew you were grinning just as stupidly back at him when you felt a tug of your own filled with nothing but love.

The two of you stood there grinning and staring at one another as though seeing the other in a new light. Then you were both moving, arms a flurry as they desperately wrapped around the other, lips meeting in a loving and passionate kiss that only intensified with each tug that raced down the bond, igniting the need for more, so much more.

A gentle tap from Cassian and you were quick to jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his arms held you tightly against him. Through the kisses and moans and soft sighs, somehow Cassian found himself moving, walking the two of you to the door that would lead you inside and to your room.

“Wait,” You pulled back, gasping for air as you leant your forehead against his, legs still tightly wrapped around his middle. Cassian was panting just as heavily, waiting on your every move and word. “Kitchen.”

The suggestive grin he shot you went straight to your core, the feeling only amplified as he attached his lips to your neck. “I think I like where this is heading,” A soft moan sounded in the back of your throat as he tugged on your earlobe, then he was walking again, albeit very quickly, towards the kitchen, his lips back on yours.

“No, idiot,” Another moan had your breathless words halting immediately. “Food.”

Now Cassian pulled away, looking at you through the haze of love and lust, now tainted by a hint of confusion.

“Food,” You continued, pressing a kiss to his lips before trailing along his jaw and returning the favour with a tug on his earlobe. “For the mating bond.”

You felt Cassian’s body tense against you, “You’re going to accept it?”

“Yes…” you said tentatively, not quite understanding the need for his question because what other answer was there?

The intensity in which he kissed you had him stumbling back a few steps, arms wrapping even tighter around you to keep you in his arms.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Your gaze softened as you took in his uncertain expression, as you felt it through the bond.

“No, I don’t know. I just thought… I mean, you’re… Do you really want to be tied to a bastard-born Illy…” You cut his words off with a sharp look and a deep kiss that conveyed exactly what you thought of what he had just implied. Then you were sending every ounce of love and affection that you could muster towards him, heart melting as his expression changed and with the way he looked at you whilst processing the raw, vulnerability of the emotions surging down the bond.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, barely more than a lingering peck before saying, “Please can you let me give you some food now? I’ve been keeping this in all week.”

“All week? You’ve known about this since…”

“It snapped during our fight,” You shrugged, not wanting to relive it now that you had finally reached this point.

It was Cassian’s turn to pull you into a tender kiss before you found yourself overwhelmed by the new sensation of his emotions landing right above your heart.

“I think we can hold off on telling the others for just a little bit longer.”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” You tapped his arm gently and he placed you back onto your feet. Lacing your fingers with his, you pulled him into the kitchen and made him take a seat while you went about putting a plate of food together.

“Besides,” You continued, suddenly remembering Azriel’s involvement, “Az already knows. So I’m sure the others have put the pieces together by now and will steer clear for a few days.”

“A few weeks more like.” You grinned at the slight growl in his voice and the hunger in his eyes as his gaze remained fixed on you.

“Here,” Your voice was almost breathless, stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves as you pushed the plate towards him. Cassian briefly glanced down at it then, with a look of well-honed restraint, he slowly stood and walked over to you, pulling you in for a kiss as he murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Without tearing his eyes away from you, Cassian reached across the table for the plate, eating everything on it as you remained transfixed on one another, basking in the feeling of the bond you shared growing stronger and stronger until, at last, everything felt as though it had finally fallen into place.

***** Thanks for reading 🥰

[rowretro]

If your requests are open, can I get hard yandere Jake or Ni-Ki where they punish reader for escaping and staying with one of their friends?

𝕺𝖍 𝖒𝖞 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌…

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, mentions of blood, manipulation(?), shirtless-ish riki, somewhat gore, mentions of sex

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

"Oh my sweet little y/n... I knew you were stupid but for you to be this stupid?!..." Riki tutted, a mocking pout on his lips, his shirt drenched with the blood of someone you called a friend. He barely knew you, yet he befriended you just because he knew you were in the danger of Riki. Your stupid self just had to believe Riki wouldn't know that the motherfucker would be keeping you in his house.

He was pissed. No he was beyond pissed, words can not explain how bad of a decision she made. Riki wasn't too into murdering people or ripping them apart, but for her? god a little blood on his hands was nothing let alone stabbing a dagger with her name encrypted into this so called friend of hers? heck he could even leave the body out because not even a family member was there to want him.

"Oh well... he lived a miserable life anyway.... this was your fault y/n. You know better than to trust a strangers word over mine. Fuck the fact you trusted another man. went into his house. wore his shirt. AND FUCKING LEFT ME?!" He finally yelled causing her to flinch, he stabbed him crazily as you screamed for him to stop, tears streaming down her cheeks. "STOP CRYING FOR HIM!" he screamed, slapping her painfully on her cheek.

he knelt down before her dark eyes, peircing into her as he groaned, he threw off his shirt "Mother fucker got his filthy blood all over my comfortable t-shirt. The one you should be wearing right now." he sharply said. The man was pissed. He slapped her yet again, ripping off the T-shirt she wore as she carried her and dropped her in the bathtub.

He didn't care that it was hurting her, he turned the tap on as he applied soap to the sponge and aggressively rubbed on her skin. "I know you wouldn't sleep with him. But you still hugged him. You still went in his house and sat on his rubbish sofa. Fuck imagine all the germs in that shithole you went to." He spat as he chucked the sponge at her and yanked her hair. "Clean yourself up and go to bed." He simply said before leaving the restroom.

"Oh no... I hurt my poor y/n oh sweetie... You need to know what you did is awful... you need to feel the pain I did... but I won't make it hurt as much as you hurt me because I love you... you can tell me anything.... did you have sex with this fucker?! is that why you're wearing his ugly shirt?!!!" Riki asked, as She stared in horror, and disgust. Riki chuckled

That very night, was the first time Riki hurt her, though it hurt him more to hurt her. He stepped out of the shower, smiling as he saw Y/n sitting on his bed, wearing his sweater, how it fell just off of her shoulder, her tears gone as she reached out to hug him, she just needed comfort... and she accepted her fate.

"So cute, I know you won't do something like that with some low life... awww my sweet innocent y/nie, so vulnerable and gullible, sweetheart, he's a pervert, he lied to you, he did this so he can use your precious body. You know I've never done and never will do that you know why? because I love you..." Riki explained as he cradled her in his arms.

He palnted soft kisses on her face "Oh my poor darling y/n... don't ever leave me... I can't live without you!" He said as Y/n placed a soft kiss on his plump lips, giving into his toxic love. She can't help it though... isn't it a good thing that he'd even kill for her?.... so many men have only hurt her, humiliated her or wanted to hook up with her but Riki... Riki loves her...

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

[wszczebrzyszynie]

In older artworks Ryba seems so much edgier and so angsty and now… he’s like a cute puppy. I would love to know how Ryba has changed over the years, and how he’s different or similar from his older versions. I think you mentioned a few years ago that Ryba (as he is now) was a bad boy when he was younger, and I wanna know if that’s still true. If it is, how does he think of his past self and how did he go from edgelord to ray of sunshine?

Hmmm well i wouldnt exactly call Ryba... hm. I can feel this will be a long one. Hes one of my top 3 favourites so this was fun to elaborate on

Ryba is one of my older characters (7 years old now or so) so he has changed quite significantly and in ways i cant really explain. I probably just got bored with him being the problem child and made him nicer. Well either way yes in retrospective Ryba used to be very edgy and one of my main problem causing characters. He wasnt mean exactly as much as he was just uncaring and extremely selfish. Not worlds most insufferable teenage boy but definitely someone annoying. That problem child persona is still present in current Rybas childhood, which was mostly caused by grief and loss of his family and lack of attention and care that came with it. Ryba lost his parents when he was fairly young and was living with his more estranged family before later moving in with his grandma, with whom he lives since (and who he loves very much), and that period was very hard for him and shaped him as a person going forward. He started acting out durning that time and it progressed so much it just further isolated him from others; he was always a nice child if given the chance and some positive attention, but he did do a lot of stupid things for people to just see him

Ryba now is a very kind and friendly person, but that kindness is rooted somewhat in what other people would consider selfish needs; he needs to be liked, to be a friend and be worthy of others positive attention. Its his main life fuel; Ryba doesnt like dealing with his own problems, and prefers drowning himself in love to escape from them. Hes overly dependent on that feeling of love. Doesnt mean hes less kind or that hes somehow two faced, but that kindness doesnt come from a "morally pure" need to just be kind, and thats a very important aspect of Rybas personality.

Ryba has a lot going on in his head he doesnt know how to succesfully sort out; hes not stupid (even though he does act dumber than he is to make people laugh and appear more safe, friendler), but he has significant problems with sorting out his needs (both physical and emotional) energy and emotions, not helped by his extreme unwillingness to deal with it in a normal way or even just, talk to someone about it. Ryba is both an open and a closed book. Instead his own problem solving skill boils down to occasionally throwing things at the wall to see if they stick and never letting go if they do. Which is why he tends to contradict himself a lot; his tendency to pick fights with other boys is the same outlet for his emotions as being clingy and loving is. Its relatively easy for him to replace one with the other in the short term, as long as hes in the centre of attention and is being physically close to someone, even if in the long term his tendency to fight could be considered a form of self harm; its something that makes him feel awful right after, but he keeps doing it, because it does work for something. On the other hand, clingyness and whatever form of intimacy hes offered, tends to result more in him feeling like a freak (hence the "Ryba wouldnt be able to date someone who isnt as obsessive about him as he is" from one of my recent rybaposts came from; if he knows hes needed the same way he instead leans into the codependency as much as he can, even when he realizes hes getting "addicted" to a person; Ryba is surprisingly perceptive, especially when it comes to other people, he just doesnt want to deal with the baggage). In the similar way, his need to take care of others instead of himself is his way of making himself useful and having something else to focus on that isnt himself. Ryba is a character whose sanity is being held together by wax and spit

As for what he thinks about his younger self; if he had to be honest he just wishes there was someone for him at that time and after. Main theme of DNS is loneliness and while i wouldnt say modern Ryba is lonely, nor does he consider himself so (he may not talk about his issues to his friends, but they are still his friends nonetheless and he loves them a lot), that sudden childhood separation from people he should depend on and a period of loneliness that came with it is something that definitely did shape him in a significant way; kind of like a root of the problem that kept on growing even after the disaster has stopped, becoming something a bit more complex than in its infant state

[aliesbienish]

Set me on fire

Summary: Eloise Bridgerton x Female identifying reader

Your strong opinions have led you to many places, but none have felt as right as sitting beside a witty brunette at a women’s rights meeting.

—————

The dingy room, nestled above a tavern in the west end of London, was filled with many familiar faces. After almost a year of attending these bi-weekly meetings, you felt comfortable in this crowd. The mixture of gender, colour and age were comforting. Nothing like you see in your day to day life, and you were all the better for it.

A chance led you to these meetings of like-minded people. You accidentally stumbled on your valet, a sweet man around your age of one and twenty, talking about it with a maid from a few households down. Your interest was imeadiately peaked and reluctantly he divulged about the meetings he regularly attended. More convincing and he was letting you read issues of the groups pamphlets. It was world altering. Sure, you views were always rather outside of the standard norms… but knowing you weren’t alone in them was monumentos.

You quickly decided that these meetings were where you needed to be, and sneaking out with a borrowed set of clothes from one of your handmaidens became a normal occurrence. The first meeting was terrifying, feeling so out of place and underprepared. It was a shift going from believing yourself to be radical to realising how naive and conservative you are. However now you felt at home, discussing the newest issues with members that became your friends.

This meeting was your first of the year, your family had just returned from the Devon countryside for the tons new season that started a few days earlier . This year you were reluctantly debuting, despite having no desire for marriage. Your family were late to arrive, missing out on your presentation to Queen Charlotte thanks to your father being stuck in business negotiations with the neighbouring estate in Devon. You were just glad this had allowed you to have time get all your feelings out to friends at this meeting before you say something you would regret to your family, or worse the Queen.

While settling into your seat in the back row as the official meeting began you saw an unfamiliar late comer make her way into the room. The figure was a brunette girl who looked to be of similar age to yourself. She looked as you imagined you did at your first meeting, a mixture of terrified and exciting. You saw her glance at the spare seat beside you, your shawl neatly placed on it. You quickly moved it to your lap and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Thank you” she whispered as she slipped into the seat beside you.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered back, “I’m Y/N, is this your first meeting?”

“Eloise. It is, how can you tell?”

“I can sense the fear,” you joked causing a look of horror to pass across her face. “I’m kidding, I just attend regularly and have never noticed before. That and you are sporting the same expression I wore the first time. Don’t worry it will quickly change to one of awe. The speakers today are all wonderfully empowering, you’ll love it”

———————-

The meeting passed quickly, and you spent a fair chunk of time sitting side by side speaking to Eloise and answering any questions she had. You quickly realised how much you enjoyed her company, and couldn’t wait to spend some time with the witty young woman. That would have to wait until the next meeting, because unfortunately today was the day of your first ball. Your handmaidens had been poking and prodding you all day to get you ready for Lady Danbury’s ball to officially open the season. You could feel the pressure you father to be at your best behaviour, in fact it seemed to manifest in the pressure on your ribs from your corset.

All too soon you were exiting your carriage on the arms of your father, his tight grip ensuring you could not escape. The ball was in full swing, couples twirling, gaggles of women huddled together gossiping and men clearly rating the appearance of potential partners with drinks in hand. It was everything you dreaded. Your father led you in and was not so subtly pointing out all those worthy of talking to, men with titles from rich families. Eyes looked over you from all directions, raking up and down your figure. You felt like a prized cattle for sale, not a human being. You felt your heart race increase and your breath become rushed as your father introduced you to more men. Just as you thought you would be sick in the middle of the ballroom you got lost in a pair of grey eyes.

You breath calmed as you gazed into the eyes of a stunning woman standing in a gaggle of people near the refreshments. She looked almost shocked to see you, and it took a second before your realised this was the same girl from the meeting. You gave her a gentle smile. She turned to one man and two women beside her and spoke quietly to them, all four giving her a confused but agreeing nod before heading in your direction.

“Lord Y/L/N, it’s lovely to see you again,” the elder lady spoke to your father, the words accompanied by a polite bow.

“Lady Bridgerton, you likewise. This is my daughter Y/N, this is her first season.”

“Miss Y/N, lovely to make your acquaintance. This is my son Vicount Bridgerton and his lovely wife Vicountess Kate Bridgerton”

You bowed at both as they gave you polite smiles.

“Lord Y/L/N, would you allow me to accompany your daughter for a moment. I wish to introduce her to the rest of my family,” Lady Bridgerton asked. Your father nodded, knowing he had little choice unless he wanted to slight a powerful family of the Ton. You gratefully accompanied the three Bridgertons away from your father who went in the opposite direction towards some old business acquaintances.

“We are terribly sorry to bother you Miss, but my sister wanted to get to know her fellow debutant” Vicount Bridgerton said as you all headed towards the refreshments, where the said sister was waiting impatiently. “Miss Y/N, this is my sister Eloise Bridgerton.”

You smiled, happy to see Eloise again even if no one knew you two had ever meet before. She looked beautiful in her baby blue ballgown, but you couldn’t help think she looked just as good at the meeting where she could show her true personality.

“Thank you mother, siblings. I’m going to show Miss Y/N around,” Eloise said as she gently tugged your arm and led you away.

“Since when did she want to make friends?” You could hear the Vicount whisper to his just as bewildered wife.

—————

Eloise silently led you around the ballroom before sneaking outside the French doors as a large group came in. She pulled you down into the dark garden, stopping to pull you onto a bench hidden amongst the extravagant topiaries.

“Y/N, I can’t believe you’re here! I had no idea you were a member of the Ton,” She exclaimed once she was sure no one was around, giving you a tight hug.

“Unsurprisingly I don’t like speaking about it, at the moment it feels like the marriage mart goes against everything I believe in. I feel like I’m being paraded around to be sold to the highest bidder, my feelings never being taken into account” you grumbled. You grounded yourself again by looking into her eyes before whispering “It’s lovely to see you again El,”

“I’m truly sorry, you don’t deserve this. While I understand the pain of being a debutant I at least have the comfort of knowing that my family will not force upon me a marriage I don’t want. We will just have to do our best to find you a love match,”

“I appreciate that El, but I don’t think that will happen. In honesty I can’t see myself ever falling in love with a man,” you whispered baring your soul to her. You knew what her values were, and could only hope that she would support you with this secret.

“Oh,” Eloise whispered back, processing what you meant. “I truly understand”. She tentatively grabbed your hand stroking her thumb softly over your palm. While your heart broke knowing she’d be subjected to the same pain due to a cruel society you couldn’t help the hope that bubbled up.

“You feel it to right? As soon as I saw you today I felt like I could finally breath again,” you bared your soul, praying to every deity she wouldn’t run. For a moment she was silent, and you could feel your stomach drop as you tried to pull your still joined hand away in embarrassment.

“Yes, I feel it,” she finally said softly, tugging at your hand so you’d stay put. “I think I knew what it was when I first met you at the meeting, even as you teased me. The feeling was like how my mother described her first interaction with my father. I’ve been thinking about you ever since. Y/N, I know this may be improper…. but may I kiss you?”

You nodded slowly and lent in, closing your eyes as your lips gently met. Her lips were soft and silky against yours as you joined together. Neither of you fought for dominance, instead the kiss deepened instinctively your tongues dancing against each others. You could almost feel the fireworks, and you quickly realised you’d face whatever the consequences to be able to do this again and again.

Eventually you parted, both breathing heavy but with wide grins over your face. You stayed hands interlaced, side by side for as long as possible.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work something out. I won’t allow you to be separated from me.” She whispered to you as you rested your head on her shoulder.

A moment later she whispered again “do you believe in soulmates?”

FIN

Hi all, hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think, this is my first Bridgerton imagine so writing more formal conversations was not the easiest to wrap my head around. Hopefully minimal 21st centurisms appeared in our earlier 1800s England setting.

Feel free to send in any requests, I’m particularly looking forward to writing some Reader x Benedict works as well as getting a little more *x rated* because isn’t that half the fun of Bridgerton?!

Ali x

[finelinepie]

"On The Field"

*This is not my photo, but I couldn't find the original poster to credit them.🥺(but thank you to whoever made this)*

THIS SERIES WILL HAVE LONGER PARTS, BUT THIS FIRST PART IS MOSTLY AN INTRODUCTION❤️

*I want this to be a short series, but I am not sure if this is even something people would like?? Please let me know how you like it, or don't like it.. I NEED THE FEED BACK*

Footballrry / reader

Plot: Dating the football star is not what you pictured happening your sophomore year of college, but its happening, and you have to keep calm... how does one keep calm when he looks like..that??

Word Count: 1K and some change

Warnings: none yet, just the smirk we all dream about and a little bit of fluff.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Being in a football stadium is not how I thought my winter break would go. I thought for sure it would be spent with my friends on some extravagant vacation somewhere warm or maybe even going home to my family. It is so weird how things worked out this year. My friends went home to their families, and my parents wanted to spend their first vacation alone now that both of their kids are off at college and they are empty nesters. I found myself staring at the field and studying how the players moved about. The one thing I am most grateful for is the fact that I am currently sitting in a box chair in the warmth. The stadium box was a luxurious escape from the frigid winter air outside, with plush seats, a stocked minibar, and a perfect view of the field below. I don't care how many heat lamps are facing the field right now, I won’t be caught dead down there. The biting cold was relentless, and I could see the players’ breath forming clouds as they huddled and ran their drills.

With my textbook in my lap, I continued to multitask studying and watching the boys on Lambeau Field. My..actually, I don’t know what to call him.. we have yet to label anything. He was running around like a chicken with his head cut off, while his coach chased him, teammates laughing at the scene. I smiled softly and giggled, in total awe of his childlike nature. Shaking my head, I looked back down and continued taking notes. This class is kicking my ass, and I do not want to have to retake it. College is a bitch, and I don't want to stay any longer than I have to.

My thought process was interrupted by the club door opening. Turning my head to see who it was, I smiled and closed my book. “Hey, babe.” My best friend, Isla, said cheerfully, sitting down next to me.

“Hey, what are you still doing here? I thought you were going home this year?” I recalled. She sighed and looked down at the boys still practicing on the field.

“I am, but I just wanted to look at your dreamboat before I left.” She taunted.

I rolled my eyes before throwing my head back in a cackle. “He is not my dreamboat.” I could feel my cheeks heat up. My blush only deepened when I heard a quiet ‘Yet’ escape her mouth.

She cleared her throat before she continued. “All joking aside, I just came to say bye, and because I know you guys are in the puppy phase, you would be here pretending to study but actually staring at him the whole time.” She winked. “I love you, stay safe, I will see you in two weeks. And remember!” She chirped while standing back up. “Don’t be silly, wrap his willy!” She screamed. I swatted her thigh while she howled in laughter.

I chuckled, shaking my head as Isla made her way out of the box. Turning my attention back to the field, I noticed my favorite boy glancing up at the stands. For a brief moment, our eyes met, his lips lifting to the side to smirk and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly looked away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

As I tried to refocus on my textbook, my mind kept drifting back to him. The way he moved with such confidence and energy was captivating. Despite the cold outside, the warmth of the box and the sight of him made everything feel a little bit brighter.

As practice wrapped up, the players began to filter off the field. The star player jogged toward the sidelines, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his face. He glanced up at the boxed seats, his eyes scanning the seats, pretending not to see where I am, until they landed on me. A smile spread across his face, and he gave a small wave. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my cheeks flush again. I waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement.

A few minutes later, he appeared at the door of the club box, still dressed in his practice gear. Harry leaned against the doorframe, looking effortlessly handsome. "Hey, stranger," he said with a grin. "Mind if I join you?" His green eyes shining bright against his flushed face.

I gestured to the seat next to me, trying to play it cool. "Sure, come on in. How was practice?" I am going to throw up.

His large body plopped beside me and I instantly got hints of musky vanilla. His presence immediately made the room feel warmer. "It was good, just the usual drills and stuff. Coach is really pushing us hard, but it's worth it." He glanced at my textbook. Wrapping his arm around me he spoke once more, "What about you? Studying during break—you're dedicated."

I sighed, closing the book again. "Yeah, trying to keep up with this class. It's a killer."

He nodded, his expression serious. "If you need any help, just let me know. I was pretty good at that class last semester."

I smiled, grateful for the offer. "Thank you, I might take you up on that."

For the next hour, we talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily. Harry had a way of making me feel comfortable, even when I was a nervous wreck inside. As we chatted, I couldn't help but think about how unexpected this winter break had turned out to be. It wasn't the vacation I had planned, but sitting here with him, it felt like it might turn out to be even better.

Eventually, Harry stood up, stretching. "I should probably hit the showers. But seriously, if you need help with that class, just text me."

I nodded, standing up as well. "I will. Thanks for the offer, H."

He smiled, that same infectious grin that had captivated me from the start. "Anytime. See you tonight, alright?" He leaned down to kiss my forehead and then my lips softly before making his way out the door.

As he walked out of the club box, I felt a warmth in my chest. Maybe this winter break wouldn't be so bad after all.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

[infiniteetcetera]

Something I would actually love to see in an Azriel book is Az getting a “second family” sort of situation outside the inner circle, i.e. a group of friends he hangs out with where he can actually just relax, laugh, and be himself. Don’t get me wrong, Azriel obviously loves the IC and they love him, but we’re told from basically every single one of them in their POV that they don’t understand him and he won’t talk about himself/his feelings with them (as he should honestly, Rhys and Cassian canonically used to beat conversation out of him and Mor’s been messing with his head for centuries) and one of the very first things we’re told by Az directly is that he doesn’t feel like he belongs (with them).

I just think it’s sad that Az is often written off as so private/quiet because of his personality even though we see there’s so much more to him than that. I love that he is our occasionally awkward introverted boy, but he’s also canonically like the most charismatic of the IC??? Feyre points out how fun/charming he is the first time she hangs out with him outside the IC, he’s the only one Elain feels comfortable with in all of ACOMAF and brings her out of her shell, and he’s literally the only one who gets along with Nesta and they actually form such a normal sweet friendship??? He operates so sweetly and openly with everyone outside the IC (I use the Archerons as examples bc that’s most of what we’re shown but we’re also told even like the valkyries in training all crush on him) I can’t help but feel like the IC hold him back and after the way he was raised Azriel really deserves a true family where he feels like he “belongs” and doesn’t have to hide and isolate himself.

This is why I care less who he winds up with and more that it’s done well and leaves him genuinely happy, not just because one person suddenly “fixes” everything, but because they help him be himself and let others in and feel comfortable with who he is. I feel like that’s what he really needs and he’s not getting it from most people in the Night Court (like I swear the Archeron sisters already know him better than his supposed family in the IC. what do you mean Feyre and Nesta both clock Elriel and Rhys/Cassian are oblivious??? what do you mean he’s terribly depressed on Solstice and Nesta is the only one who reaches out and when she brings it up Cassians like ‘nah that’s just how Az is’??? what do you mean Mor gets him awful gifts every year but Elain has him dying on the floor laughing with her present after knowing him a few weeks???)

In conclusion, please let Azriel find not only a happily ever after with his LI but some awesome new friends too ❤️ (or let him help the Archeron girlies escape the NC fr even if he just drops them off with their autumn court LIs, IDC I just love his relationship with all of them)

[mae-lou-ron]

A Friend Indeed

Summary: Two years into settling on Pabu, Crosshair reluctantly finds solace in some familiar places.

Rating: T (might be G but set as T because I'm just a baby and I don't know how ratings work. Feel free to yell at me if I should change it) Warnings under the cut.

Tags/TWs: hurt/comfort, cute brotherly fluff, descriptions of PTSD, descriptions of sleep paralysis symptoms, recurring nightmares involving medical trauma (nothing described), heightened anxiety around dates, grief processing, mental health probs, just wrecker and crosshair being adorable brothers with their emotional support animals.

WC: ~1,800

A/N: this is the first work I've ever posted. It started as a completely self indulgent drabble of Crosshair bonding with a scrungly stray island cat (still in progress), but I loved writing this brotherly exchange between Crosshair and Wrecker so much it kinda turned into something else entirely by the end? This story falls in line with my HCs that Wrecker is the mediator middle child, Tech is still alive and on Pabu with his family, and that he's an awful snorer. Proofread by me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"And how is this supposed to help?" Crosshair seethed, looking down at the plush tooka doll his brother just shoved into his hand. "I don't need this, Wrecker."

"Oh come on, Crosshair, don't pretend like you didn't borrow Lula when we were younger...like that time you had nightmares after falling off the--"

"Stow it," Crosshair growled, throwing the doll back at his brother, but Wrecker, being used to his brother's temperament, dodged it easily. It tumbled to the floor and Batcher, who had been eyeing the tooka during their entire exchange, didn't hesitate to scoop it up and wiggle her hind quarters, hoping one of them would start a game of chase.

"Listen, I still get them too..." Wrecker said quietly as he took a step towards Crosshair, his hand resting on the sniper's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Want to tell me about it?" He was no stranger to navigating Crosshair's anger. Especially now, after two years of them living on Pabu, two years into recovering mentally and physically from their experiences with the Republic and the Empire, two years of healing the bonds between one another. Wrecker knew that it was always a cover for something more nuanced. So, he was quiet and let Crosshair percolate with his thoughts before he spoke about what was bothering him. After a few moments, Crosshair grumbled, resisting the urge to shrug his shoulder free, but the wall he put up cracked just enough.

"It's just..." Crosshair’s hand clenched into a fist at his side. Batcher flopped down on her bed dramatically at being ignored, still holding the tooka gently in her mouth. "It's not just the nightmares..." he mumbled. Wrecker took a half step back, eyes soft and trained on his brother's deep furrowed brow and scowl at opening up like this. But Wrecker was patient.

When Crosshair continued, his voice was barely a whisper, "Sometimes when I wake up I'm still stuck there and...I can't...I can't move..." he trailed off, his mind flitting back to that morning.

He'd woken from the dream, or so he thought. Tantiss' medical droids were still swirling in his periphery, the smell of disinfectant still sharp in his nose. His nervous system immediately reacted, seeking to lash out, to escape, but his body didn't respond- for a horrible moment he thought he might be strapped down again but no, nothing was biting into his skin, he simply couldn't move. He tried to speak, but the words remained on his tongue.

No. He thought bitterly. They're not here. I'm not there.

He kept repeating this in his head, almost like a mantra as the panic coursed through his body. The droid never came close enough to touch him, but still close enough to be a threat. It felt like an eternity until his tunneled vision brightened slightly, the bits and pieces started to fade, and his bedroom in his Pabu home came into the forefront. He could finally feel his limbs thawing, the weight of the blanket on his feet, the rising sun casting speckles on the wall, the sound of seabirds calling in the distance. These things helped ground him enough to remember his training, he slowed his breathing in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. It worked, but it didn't quiet completely, not until he could feel his toes wiggle.

Wrecker's warm hand gave his shoulder another squeeze, gently bringing Crosshair back to the present moment. Crosshair glanced up at his brother's scarred face, into his concerned, mismatched eyes for a fleeting moment before shaking his head and casting his eyes back downward. Wrecker was always a good listener despite his boisterous demeanor. He never tried to talk Crosshair out of how he was feeling, or suggest solutions unless asked. He was content to be an ear to bend and a shoulder to lean on.

And Crosshair would rather be slowly digested by that massive tentacled sea creature in the bay than have all of his family members concern be directed towards him. Hunter watched and hovered too much and it only frustrated Crosshair more. Tech would listen and be sure to provide the most annoyingly practical solution. Echo was his first choice to go to about this specific issue, but he was away again and difficult to get a hold of these days. Omega, his heart softened a little thinking of her. She would drag him to the cliffs and insist they meditate, look at him with those kind, concerned eyes. His eyes.

No. Absolutely not. Wrecker was his best option at not driving Crosshair back into himself. And he was so tired, so the wall came down a bit further. He looked up quickly again to make sure Wrecker was still listening. He always was.

"And they're...often," The sniper's lips pressed into a thin line. "Almost every morning this past week," Crosshair continued. "And sometimes in the middle of the night, which are the worst," he spat out so quickly it took Wrecker a second to process what he said.

"This happened last year around this time too," Wrecker thought out loud. Crosshair cringed at the realization he'd already known, but grunted in affirmation. He had learned that sometimes this is how it goes, especially around dates with any significance, and they returned from Tantiss for the last time on this day two years ago.

Wrecker looked thoughtful for a moment before his face brightened at a sudden idea. He strode around the room and started gathering the cushions and pillows, tossing them into a pile in front of the couch.

"What are you doing?" Crosshair drawled wearily, his eyes following Wreckers movements. He was already regretting his decision to speak more freely about this.

"I'm getting comfy," Wrecker said plainly as he settled down amidst the pile of pillows, leaning back against the couch. Batcher took this as an invitation to dig out her own spot at Wrecker's side, Lula in tow, settling down with it under her chin. "See?" he said, his tone light. "Let's camp out here!" He said spreading his arms wide before returning his hands to the back of his head. "You know like back on Kamino in the training storage room whenever Tech would snore too loud?" He grinned at the memory. "Hunter would always find us and act all annoyed but he just always wanted to know where we were...and get away from Tech's snoring,"

"Still does," Crosshair snorted, one corner of his mouth curling up slightly. Admiration for his brothers pulled him out of his resolute melancholy a little more. He settled down on the other side of Batcher, resting his arm over her back like he'd done a thousand times before. The hound grumbled at him when he lifted her chin gently to retrieve Lula.

"No." Crosshair said firmly. Batcher's eyes still followed the doll but she settled back down. He held Lula before him, taking in the tattered fabric, the stains, the patches added to mend rips and burns. One of her ears was almost completely gone.

"This thing is...disgusting," Crosshair scoffed quietly, it was almost a chuckle.

"Yeah, it is," Wrecker laughed heartily. "But she's been with us the whole time. Look..." he said pointing at the burn across the doll's back. "That's from when those clanker disrupters I made for your fire puncher went off in the barracks, remember?" He smiled widely remembering how angry Tech was at them for setting his bed on fire, while he was still in it. And Wrecker's, but that was nothing new back then. He continued regaling Crosshair with anecdotes about how the blemishes were made over the years.

Wrecker suddenly yawned, stretching and settling further into the nest, "Alright if I sleep here tonight," he said drowsily, more a statement than a question, his eyes still bright. Stars, he was a terrible liar, but Crosshair appreciated his attempts to not wound his pride. To give Crosshair the choice for his company without having to ask for it.

He was working on it.

"I suppose," he drawled. It was already late when his brother came by to check on him— and it's not like Wrecker would be easily moved at this point anyway. 

Crosshair, resigned but thankful for the company, studied the tooka for a while longer. The knot in his chest loosened slightly at the reminder of the joyful and chaotic moments they've shared. Bright moments poking through the darkness like the stars studding the night sky. Instead of tucking the doll under his arm or clutching it to his chest, he stuffed it behind his head before settling back onto its familiar softness.

Crosshair folded his arms over his chest, closing his eyes and tuning in on the sounds of the insects chirping softly outside, the distant waves were harder to hear now that the tide had retreated, but still added to the calmness that now descended upon the island. Batcher grumbled in contentment, and soon Crosshair's breathing matched Wrecker's, lulling him into a more peaceful sleep than he'd had all week.

The next morning when Crosshair opened his eyes, the frightening things he may have dreamt about didn't follow him. They stayed where they belonged, far out of his periphery. The bright orange morning creeping over the horizon chased away some of the shadows from his mind. Not all of course, but, some. Wrecker and Batcher were still right beside him, both very real and sleeping soundly. He wiggled his toes experimentally. Pleased when the joints flexed on his command. He could move and get up if he wanted, but it was still far too early to rise and start the day. Instead, Crosshair did something he hasn't done in weeks- he went back to sleep.

Maybe he was still right, he thought as he drifted off again, Lula still tucked under his head. Maybe he didn't need this, but he had to admit, it helped.

[saintship]

Could I request a fic for konig (and/or anyone in the 141) (whoever you think fits the best).

One where the reader has an eating disorder that she's been hiding for a while and the team is starting to notice.

Eventually they confront her and she tries to defend herself but only makes it worse. Saying stuff like she knows her limits now and explaining how it doesn't really hurt that bad to purge since she figured it out.

Like she's trying to comfort them but is only making it so much worse. I need my angst + comfort

I decided on Ghost because there’s a lot of König’s big ass on my blog

WARNING: potentially triggering content for people suffering from restrictive/bulimic eating disorders

This hits close to home, and v accurate to how a confrontation like this can go, I hope you’re alright ml

You’re not fine - Simon Riley x Reader, 141 & Reader

You had a love-hate relationship with little celebrations like these; you liked talking with everyone, and you also liked that it was held at the base, so you didn’t have to worry yourself watching your back. But with celebrations, there will be alcohol, and then food, and then inebriated recruits spewing whatever comes to their mind. One in particular you were sat near was especially vocal, swinging his glass in arcs as he grumbled on and on. Many of his words were nonsense, their only repercussion being the drunk giggles of his friends.

You sat up a bit straighter when he leaned closer.

“Oi, I hate these, you want it?” He murmured, gesturing to the cherry adorning his drink. You looked away a bit, shaking your head.

“Why? You was eatin’ them before..”

“I had enough.”

He only grinned. “What, you think a cherry will make you fat or something?”

Your silence only amused him more.

“Aw, you starve yourself, lovie?” He laughed loud and bright, like what he’d suggested was the most amusing thing he’d ever thought of. His friends didn’t miss it either, now cooing comments and non-questions in your direction that made your head spin.

It wasn’t until you pushed yourself to your feet and made a break for the door that you clocked the eyes behind Simon’s mask, following you carefully. The embarrassment flashed through your mind, but you continued, leaning against the outside wall where people came to smoke or grope each other in the lamplight. You felt the cherry on your tongue, your stomach beginning to flip before you gathered yourself. You were in control. A sharp pain sliced through your gut. You’d been able to walk the line of hiding your self torture until now; if someone walked up to you, there was no way you’d play it off. You were in control. Everything is under..control.

You thought about going back inside, just eating the stupid cherry and getting rid of it in the common room bathroom. But you were tired, and the only 141 member inside seemed to have a habit of burning holes in your back, so what was the point? Going back to your barracks seemed best. Walking by the front entrance again, Ghost pushed open the door simultaneously.

“Oi.”

You stopped and turned; Ghost rarely incited conversation. He approached you, scanning around the grounds as he walked. He seemed to be searching for the right words, a quiet grunt escaping him before he spoke.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting..” he gestured with his hand vaguely, his eyes glowering with suspicion.

“Acting what?”

He dropped his hand. “Off.”

When you didn’t reply, he sighed. “Look, I’m not good with this shit, yeah? If something’s wrong, I’ll only catch it once. So what is it?”

Your heart ached. You wished so badly there was a way to brush him off and reinforce his compassion at the same time. But there wasn’t.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sergeant.”

His reply made you blink, but your head still shook for the negative. “I’m fine.”

“You-"

“Goodnight, Ghost.”

Your tone only registered in your mind when you’d walked ten paces away from him. Simon Riley had just mustered up the courage to show a bit of concern, and you’d fucked it up. It would take a miracle for him to show vulnerability like that again. Your exhaustion urged hot tears to run down your cheeks, your skin heating up with shame and embarrassment. You didn’t get a wink of sleep.

The next morning it was pouring rain, and your walk to the med bay left you completely soaked by the time you opened the door to your office. The cold and discomfort of wet clothes were dull in your mind; all that played in your head was the encounter from the night before. The unit was empty other than resident patients, the rest of the staff likely at the mess hall. By noon, you were dry and warm, but every knock at your door made you jump. Just as you tried to convince yourself that you were being paranoid, your pager buzzed. Price’s voice rang clear.

“My office. Now, unless someone’s dying.”

Another day, you would have huffed a small laugh at his bluntness, but now, your anticipation weighed heavy on your chest.

Jogging through the rain again to the main building, scenario after scenario ran through your mind. Ghost outranked you, and you’d brushed him off without a glance behind you. You’d never had a charge of insubordination, ever. You admired and cared for your superiors in a way you hadn’t expected, and with that, there was never a time mouthing off even crossed your mind.

You lowered the hood of your rain jacket carefully as you eased Price’s door open, seeing it was already ajar.

Your heart sank through the floor when you saw Price’s expression, and then further some when you looked around the room. Soap, Gaz.. and Ghost.

“Is this an intervention?”

Your joke was met with a downcast silence, as Price rose from his desk chair. “Sit.”

He walked past you to shut the door gently, leaning on its surface. You obeyed his request, settling into a chair near his desk.

“Sergeant..you know that you’re cared for here, right?”

You blinked, glancing at Gaz and Soap. The two of them were so rarely serious that their concerned expressions were distracting.

“Uh..yes. Yes, sir.” You murmured.

“Since we care for you, we notice when you��re not all there. Isn’t that right?” The squad nodded, and you wished for a sinkhole to pull you into the center of the earth.

“Ghost. Why don’t you explain why we’re here?”

You couldn’t look at him, but you felt his eyes.

“You ran off last night. And I know it wasn’t cause of that daft recruit.”

The wood panels of Price’s floor were faded with a worn path of heavy boots. Gaz stepped a bit closer.

“We just don’t want you to be doing anything that’ll hurt you, love.”

You didn’t look up.

“Why would you think that?”

The sound of shifting weight was all that answered at first. Soap’s gentle voice filled the small space.

“You’re not eating, lass.”

Your eyes finally found their way upward out of surprise. “That’s what this is about?” You look around; no one’s expression had shifted. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve skipped every weigh in the last three months.” Price folded his arms.

“I’m a medic, I was busy! I think I would know if I had a problem.”

“So why do you drink your calories? Why do you work through mealtimes?” Ghost’s tone became a bit firmer.

“We’re just a tad worried-"

“There is nothing to worry about!” You interrupted Soap, making Gaz back up a pace. “I know my limits, I know how to do it right. I don’t need a lot.”

Price’s head tilted. “Sergeant..”

“I know how to do it right.” You repeated, a trembling hang raking through your hair.

“Do what right?” Gaz’s question hung heavy in the air.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, I-I figured out how to..you know, purge. Correctly.”

“What?” Price pushed off the door, standing closer.

“It’s fine!” Tears pricked at your eyes.

“No, it’s not.” Gaz’s voice was low with emotion, his eyes following you as you got to your feet.

“I’m fucking fine!”

“Sergeant, lower your voice.” Price’s order silenced you, a tear escaping down your face.

“It’s—I have it under control..” your voice wavered.

Soap sighed. “That’s not how it works-"

You wiped your tears angrily, irritating the skin that was already warm with embarrassment.

“What do I have to do to convince you that I am fi-"

Ghost’s arms were around you. The rest of the room was silent. Your eyes were closed. You cried into his vest. He smelled like smoke.

“You’re not fine.” His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry..I’m sorry..”

“Oh, love..” Gaz hand was warm on you shoulder.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Soap assured. Ghost’s gloved palm stroked your back.

A different hand laid on your other shoulder, and you turned you head to see Price lean to your level.

“You’re not alone, soldier.”

That night, the entire team accompanied you to dinner. They made sure to tell you that even if you couldn’t stomach anything, just being there made them proud. Proud that you could face this disease that would follow your every step, and that you trusted them to walk alongside you. Ghost excused himself for a smoke, and you followed him out where he stood in the night air. The cicadas were chittering incessantly, but the breeze was nice. You stood by his side for a few moments before speaking.

“You called the meeting.”

He held his balaclava away from his face slightly with a thumb, exhaling a breath of smoke.

“I did.”

Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Thought you’d be angry with me for brushing you off like that.”

His head shook slowly. “No.” He breathed a sigh of the fresh air. “You’re not the snippy type. Something was off. So I went to the people who deal with that sort of thing better than I can.”

You eyed him. “Why do you always end with that?”

He glanced back, but continued to toe at the gravel.

“What do you mean?”

“You say you’re not good with this sort of thing. But you are.”

His brow furrowed. “M’not.”

“When I walked away from you, you could have just decided I was a dick and moved on, but you didn’t.”

His head shook again. “I had to get backup.”

“You knew who to put in that room.”

“Because I couldn’t do it alone.”

“You hugged me.”

Your shoes turn toward him, the glow of the entrance light glancing off the woven fabric covering his face.

“When I was freaking out, you steadied me. It really helped..” your admission suddenly embarrassed you, and you looked at your feet the moment he brought his eyes forward.

“Doesn’t mean I’m good at this.”

“You’re good to me.”

He blinked. “Am I?”

“You’re good to the team. Good to your trainees.” Looking up into his eyes, the apprehension there was gut wrenching. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes for you to believe it..”

“Sergeant..”

“It’s true. You make me want to be better.”

Ghost shifted on his feet. “I just want you alive.”

You cracked your first smile in weeks. “You make me want to be that, too.”

He gazed at you a bit longer before outstretching an arm, pulling you into his chest while taking another drag with his other hand. Your smile stayed as you leaned into his coat, the warmth radiating from him making your heart swell. The gratitude you felt that Simon Riley was letting you be so close to him was exhilarating. He rubbed your back as he’d done in the office, but out here, where it was just you, Simon, and the cicadas, it was just better.

[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness 5

Find the series masterlist 

In which Logan makes his grand entrance (and there is a lot less bloodshed than most of you seem prepped for). Some discussions are had. 

Side note: JTF2 is a Canadian special forces unit. Also, I’m thinking of writing a side chapter that is just Logan and the 141 pack. Thoughts? 

Warnings: Swearing, Logan is a jerk, Price needs a warning label, world building, shifter behavior, pack cuddles. 

Word count: 2.2k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

The plane landed back in England and you leaned back a bit, watching the pack. Soap was glued to one side of you, Gaz napping on your other side. Price was watching all three of you, something undeniably soft in his gaze. 

You hadn't forgotten about Logan, but you hadn't expected him to find you so bloody fast. 

You got to put your things down in your room, at least, before Price was knocking on your door, expression thunderous. 

"Who did you tell about this base?" He asked in a low snarl. 

"No one," you snapped, frowning. "Signed too damn many NDAs to tell anyone." 

"Then why do you have a visitor at the gate?" 

You froze. "Oh hell," you breathed. "That bastard!" You stepped around Price and took off towards the gate, barely paying attention as the pack all gathered behind you. 

Sure enough, Logan stood on the other side of the gate, smirking, all 5’6” of him in jeans and a flannel, duffel bag dropped at his side. But his hair was a little shorter than the last time you’d seen him, and his beard was nicely trimmed. 

“I told you not to come,” you growled, ignoring the gate guard and striding straight up to Logan. 

“Good to see you too, kid.” His smirk widened as he looked past you. “That them?”

You finally turned to find the pack had followed you and had settled into a loose cluster behind you. You hissed out a breath. 

“It doesn’t matter because you are going home.”

“Aw, but I came all the way out here just for you, kid.” Logan’s grin reached shit-eating proportions. 

“You are not supposed to be here,” you growled, narrowing your eyes at Logan. “And I don’t just mean because I told you not to.”

“Been here once before.” Logan shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seen him before, too.” He nodded to Ghost. When you turned to look, Ghost returned the nod. 

“...What?” You felt like he’d pulled a rug from under you. 

“Few years back,” Logan said, tipping his head as he looked up at the bigger shifter. “You lot needed help finding someone.”

“Right.” Ghost huffed what might have been a laugh. “Good to see you again.” 

“When was this?” You frowned a little as you looked at Logan. 

“You were down south,” he said, scratching his chin slowly. “The pack in Ohio, I think it was.” 

“And you worked together?” Price looked at Ghost to confirm. 

“Joint op with JTF2,” Ghost confirmed with a solid nod. 

Soap whistled lowly. “Now that’s not easy to get into,” he said, looking at Logan with new respect. 

“Mmhm.” Logan grinned. “Now, you gonna invite me onto base, or we gonna shoot the shit out here?” 

You hung your head with a low groan before you looked back at Price. It was his call, his territory. 

Price clenched his jaw briefly but nodded. “Be welcome on my territory.” 

“Gonna introduce me?” Logan drawled, one finger hooking through your belt loop before you could escape.

You looked up at the sky for a moment. Looked like rain. You wouldn’t mind a good soak right then. “Logan, that is Alpha Price, Ghost you apparently know, and those two are Soap and Gaz. This is Logan, the longest-running pain in my ass.” 

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to be her wolverine friend, would you?” Gaz stepped closer, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Talkin’ about me, kid?” Logan smirked, looking far too amused. 

“I hate you,” you grumbled, hunching your shoulders. “I’m gonna go find something tall to throw myself off of now.”

“Good luck, have fun.” 

You gave up, jogging ahead to catch up to Price as the other three hung back with Logan. “I swear I didn’t ask him to come here, or tell him where I even was.”

“I know,” Price murmured soothingly. One hand touched yours. “If he’s JTF2, he’s got his own resources.”

“He’s quasi-retired. Which I’m sure is why he was able to drop everything and fly out here.” You rubbed a hand over your face. You should never have called him. 

“Hey.” Price’s hand fit warm over the back of your neck. “You’re fine. Don’t stress about it.”

You sighed, some of the tension running out of your shoulders. “Yeah, alright.” You drew in a deep breath. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Price shrugged, his thumb gently smoothing over the back of your neck. “Today’s an off day since we just got back. I’ll probably be working on paperwork, but they’re free to do whatever they want.”

“Right.” You pursed your lips. You could find places to hide on base and be out of the way. “I’ll stop bothering you, then.”

“Not bothering me.” He glanced at you, eyes dark, hand squeezing the back of your neck lightly. “Stop worrying.”

“It is literally my job to worry.” 

“Then maybe you need a day off.” He stopped outside one of the buildings, hand shifting just a little lower to squeeze again. Your eyes slid half-closed in pleasure, and his lips quirked. “You know where my office is?”

“Nope.” You blinked slowly at him.

“Ask one of them. I’ll be there all day if you need anything.” He ducked his head a little to meet your eyes for a moment before he released you and walked away. 

You blinked after him and then turned to find four shifters all watching you curiously. You warmed and flapped your hands at them. “Shoo, you hooligans. Go cause chaos somewhere else.” And you promptly fled. 

You ended up on top of the barracks (and briefly told yourself to talk to someone about this habit of going high places when in distress). The sky was still threatening rain, but so far activity on the base hadn’t ceased. 

Soft swearing made you finally look away from the view, spotting Logan climbing up onto the roof. He shot a mistrustful look at the sky before he walked over and sat next to you.

“So?”

“So what?” you asked, looking back out over the base.

“You like them.” He nudged you, just once. 

You blew out a sigh. You could try to lie, or deflect. But it wouldn’t work for long. Logan knew all your tells. “I do.” 

“So make it work.”

“It’s not that simple.” 

“It’s never that simple.” Logan snorted. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You glowered at him and then gave up, sighing and looking away again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, I have no idea how they feel.”

“Don’t you?” Logan looped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Or are you just ignoring signals?”

“Stop being so damn perceptive,” you growled. 

“Well, no snowbanks to throw you into here,” Logan rumbled. “This is my next best bet.”

You groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re stubborn, makes us even.” 

The first fat drop of rain landed right on top of your head, followed immediately by one landing on your nose. 

“Aw, fuck,” Logan grumbled. “Weather here is still shit.” 

You snorted, getting to your feet. “You live in Canada.”

“And?”

“You have snow at least half the year!”

“Snow is easy. This is just wet.” Logan motioned you to go down first, keeping a close eye on you. You got down to the ground with no issues and moved out of the way so Logan could get down too, grimacing at the pull of wet clothes. It had gone from threatening to downpour in less than a minute. 

“Did they give you a room yet?” you asked, jogging to the door to the barracks and heading inside.

“Nah, mentioned something about it.” Logan shrugged, unconcerned, following you. 

“Guess we’re going back to mine, then.” You led the way, unlocking the door and letting him in first. Not that there was much to see. 

“You don’t travel with any pictures?” He frowned a little, gaze darting around the room. 

“No. Usually I try to give my full attention to the pack I’m working with.” You pulled out a clean top and dry sweatpants. “Besides, I talk to people almost every day.”

Logan grumbled, displeased, but changed as well. His duffel bag had been left in your room, although you weren’t sure if it was a joke, an easy place to put it temporarily, or because someone had assumed something about the nature of your relationship. 

With the both of you in dry clothes, you debated what else to do now. You hadn’t exactly come equipped to entertain, after all. 

A knock on your door made you blink, but you pulled it open to see Soap and Gaz. 

“Movie day?” Gaz asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Alright,” you agreed. “You okay if he tags along? He gets bored on his own.” You jerked a thumb back over your shoulder at Logan. 

“Watch it, kid,” he grumbled without any heat. 

“Sure.” Soap grinned. “More the merrier. I’ll drag LT in later.”

You snorted softly but followed Gaz to the rec room. Soap and Gaz immediately ensconced you between them on the couch, and Logan chuckled as he settled in a chair. 

“You two are menaces,” you said without heat, letting Gaz spread a blanket over the three of you. But you forced yourself to look at them a little more closely, to actually note how they behaved and their body language. While neither of them really fussed, they both paid attention to you, and to have you squished between them like this? This was a definite sign of favor, of acceptance, only enhanced by how relaxed they both were with you. 

Almost reflexively, you wanted to pull away, to hide. To protect yourself from the inevitable hurt. But you forced yourself to pause, to breathe through it. You relaxed back into the couch, breathing slowly. 

Soap made a pleased noise and cuddled in closer to you. Touch was important to pack, and cuddle times like this, or even sleeping together in a pile, was not unusual. But it also was another sign that he wanted you here.

Maybe even for longer than just this job. 

You met Logan’s eyes across the room, knowing you were showing your internal struggle. He just smiled a little, almost the softest expression you’d ever seen on his face, and very intentionally closed his eyes. One of the biggest signs of trust from a shifter. 

You swallowed hard and relaxed between Gaz and Soap, warm and comfortable and comforted. 

Sometime after the first movie, Ghost settled in the room. In a chair, of course, away from the pile of you on the couch. Gaz freed himself enough to start texting someone rapidly, glancing at you a few times. 

“What are you planning?” you asked him quietly, eyes narrowing a little.

“Nothing,” he immediately protested. “Well. Nothing bad.” He met your gaze for a long moment before he looked back at his phone. You blinked, startled. He… Had he just…? No. No way. 

His little noise of triumph distracted you, and he hopped to his feet. 

“Back in a mo,” he said before darting out of the room. 

“You have any idea what he’s planning?” you asked Soap, taking the chance to get up and bring back water for everyone. Ghost blinked when you set his down in front of him, apparently surprised.

“Not really.” Soap grinned and took his, watching you go back for snacks. “Ye ken we can get our own, aye?”

“Oh hush. You’re always hungry.” You threw a protein bar at his head. 

“You’re not wrong about that.”

You jumped at Price’s voice behind you, in the doorway. You turned to find a very amused Price standing there, a smug-looking Gaz behind him. 

“You’re a menace,” you grumbled without heat. “Giving up on the paperwork for the day?”

“Something like that.” He glanced around the room before refocusing on you. 

You tossed Ghost a snack and chucked one at Logan too before you dropped a few more on the table in front of the couch and sat back down. Soap plastered himself to your side again, looking smug. 

“Are we finishing this movie or starting something else?” you asked, giving everyone time to settle down. 

But you were surprised when Price dropped down next to you instead of Gaz. He leaned back into the couch, big and warm, his arm draped across the back of the couch. You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen even as a playful bout of bantering went straight over your head. 

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with Price, and him being this close was… distracting. More than you had accounted for. Especially since he was relaxed, at ease. This close, that lovely rumbling laugh could be felt and heard. 

This was dangerous. You needed to go, needed to get out before you got in too deep–

Logan caught your eye across the room, holding your gaze. You stilled. He breathed in deliberately slowly, not looking away, almost forcing you to follow along until the urge to flee vanished. Then he blinked and looked away. 

“Alright there?” Price asked quietly, though you were well aware everyone in the room could hear him. 

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked into something close to a smile as you leaned back and just a little bit into him, already steadier. “I’m good.” 

Nobody but you noticed the smug smirk on Logan’s face.

[im-sleepdeprived]

Seasonal • Pt. 4

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: inspired by the taylor swift song ‘peter’ where you and peter discover just how hard it is to hold on to something from your past, no mater how much you love each other

a/n: you guys i hate it here, like i actually just want them to make out already, also to the person who commented a couple chapters ago saying they wanted to see peter’s pov, this is for u

warnings: awful descriptions of photography (im not a photographer im so sorry pls lets all just ignore it), reader just straight up dipping in every situation, jealous pete lmao, reader trying to be mad, also i made peter super hot, like, more hot than usual (i was ovulating) ok bye

masterlist, read part 1, part 2, part 3

Peter had always known he would be with you. It was only a matter of when. When would he get the balls to act on his never-ending crush?

For a minute there, he had you. He felt like he owned the world. You wanted him, you loved him, and he thought the wait was finally over. This was the moment all the other moments in his life had led to. 

He’d never told you (nor will he ever) but he’d never done a project on astronomy. That night you’d helped with his wounds after he’d crashed on your fire escape (the night he was hurt and all he had wanted was to see a familiar face, and his first thought was you), the night you’d told him you had a special interest in stars, he’d went home and stayed up all night to learn everything he could about them. 

After doing that for several days, he took a night off patrolling to swing around the whole city (and a little further, if he were being honest) to find the perfect spot for your little stargazing date.

He just wanted everything to be perfect for you, always. It was why he used to wake up an hour earlier every day before school and grab you a cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite cafe. It was why he made sure to pay extra attention in your least favorite classes, the ones you struggled with the most, so he could help you with your homework and notes because he knew you’d need it. It was why he tied your shoelaces every time they came undone and you just ignored it. He held open every door, he cooked sometimes (though poorly), and he randomly bought you flowers and left you little notes everywhere. 

All he wanted was for you to be completely happy. Which is why he had to end things. Every part of his heart disagreed, every inch of his bones disagreed. But he knew the reality of the situation, and he couldn’t do that to you.

Peter couldn’t leave you stuck in a dorm room, missing out on parties or hang outs with your friends, waiting for him to call. He couldn’t be the reason your phone was stuck in your face 24/7, worrying about him. He couldn’t have you staying up till 3AM waiting for him to send you a text telling you he was okay, that patrolling that night had gone well. Even if it hadn’t. 

College was so important to you. You’d tried to downplay it to him but he knew how much you were looking forward to this, and he couldn’t be the one to take away from that experience. 

He didn’t transfer back here for you. 

Or at least, that’s what he spent countless hours and sleepless nights trying to convince himself. New York was his home, it needed him, it needed Spider-Man, May was getting older, he should be close to her, Columbia was a great school, it was his first choice. The fact that you went there was just a perk. 

Or a con. 

He wasn't sure anymore because seeing you here, in front of him for the first time in years, it left him breathless. 

Peter was always a romantic, though he’d be loathe to admit it. He wanted that one true love, he wanted someone to come home to and talk about his day with, and afterwards he would listen to theirs. He wanted late night talks, early morning confessions. Dancing in the kitchen while food cooked on the stove, getting so lost in each other’s eyes that it almost burns. And he genuinely thought you two would find your way back to each other somehow, because he’d known since he was a little boy it would always be you.

But now he’s started to wonder if just because it would always be you, that might not mean he would actually get to have you. 

Because there’s a man beside you. 

He’s holding your waist. 

And you’re not pushing him away. 

“Ace?” Asked the man (who looked nothing like Peter, by the way, and it was driving him insane). Now Peter never considered himself a violent person. As a preteen and an early teenager, he’d been puny and weak, but even after he’d became Spider-Man he never liked to resort to violence unless absolutely necessary. But right that moment, he felt an inexplicable, almost primal rage he’d never felt before. And he wanted to punch this man in the face. Yeah, that sounded like it could help. 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Old nickname.”

The man beside just narrowed his eyes slightly, which didn’t help Peter’s urge to sock him in the face. He watched as his grip around you tightened and the man pulled you in closer, almost possessively. “Introduce me babe.”

Babe? Was this guy for real?

“Oh right,” you shook your head slightly and let out another slightly too high-pitched laugh and Peter almost felt bad for putting you in such an awkward position. “James, this is Peter. He’s an old friend of mine from high school. Peter, this is James. My boyfriend.”

Peter’s heart sank. He shouldn’t have been surprised, and he wasn’t. He could tell by the way James was holding you, the way he called you babe (which was tacky in Peter’s opinion. You deserved something a little more special than ‘babe’ ugh) but hearing you say it? He was afraid he might blackout. 

He hadn’t expected you to go celibate or anything, but damn. Hearing you call someone else your boyfriend fucked with him in ways he’d never experienced. 

He could see the shock in your eyes, the disbelief as you stared at him as if you couldn’t really trust yourself to see what you were seeing.

“So…how’ve you been?” He asked casually, as if his heart wasn’t racing out of his chest right then, and he knew yours was doing the same.

Your brows furrowed, “I—I’m good, wait,” you scoffed and closed your eyes tightly before opening them again. “What are you doing here Peter?”

Right. You didn’t know. Fair enough, he hadn’t told anyone until everything was already set in stone. “I just transferred in this semester. I go here now.”

And if he thought your eyes couldn’t get any wider, he was wrong. He almost thought that they’d fall out of your head. 

“What?!”

The shock was written all over your face, but…there was something else, something he couldn’t quite place. After years of knowing you, it was concerning to him that he might not be able to read you as well as he used to. 

Peter wasn’t sure what kind of reaction, exactly, he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. He tried his best to only stare at you because he really didn’t want to look at fucking James right now. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden, “it just…felt right. Thought I belonged here.” His voice was quiet because he wasn’t even sure if that was true anymore. Was this right? Did he belong here anymore?

You stood perfectly still, no emotion on your face, and he wished more than anything he could read your mind right then. James looked back and forth between the two of you before he lightly tapped your hip, making peter’s heart churn, “I think we should get going, we’re gonna be late.”

He watched you look up at him, dazed, “Oh right, yeah, we should go. Bye Peter,” you didn’t even look at him as you said it, turning around and leaning into James’ hold as you walked away. 

Yeah, this definitely wasn’t how he expected this to go.

“You wanna talk about that?”

You scoffed. “Not really, no.”

“So he’s an ex,” James replied, and it wasn’t a question. You trudged forward, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in your chest. Almost two years. Almost a whole two years where you’d imagined countless scenarios of how your reunion would go, but you’d never imagined he’d ambush you on your college campus, claiming that he’d transferred, while you were walking around campus with your current boyfriend.

You inhaled deeply. “Yeah, and I have no clue what he’s doing here.” You’d never really told him about Peter, it just hadn’t come up. If you had to refer to him while sharing a story, it was always as an ‘old friend’ or ‘neighbor from across the hall’. You’d never liked calling him an ‘ex’.

“Well I do,” you looked up at him questioningly. “He transferred this semester, obviously.” You huffed out a laugh and tried to focus on your footsteps. Just keeping walking forward, you thought. God, not even a full 5 minutes together and it’s like he’s completely thrown you off.

“Where’d he go before?”

He didn’t know anything. You were so used to the people in your life being so involved with you and Peter, already knowing everything, knowing when and where to bring him up after the breakup (usually trying not to bring him up at all for your sake) and you guessed that’s why you’d never told James about him, it was nice to have someone who didn’t know everything there was to know about you and your past. This way, you’d get to unveil those things at your own pace. 

“He went to Duke.”

James whistled. “Good school,” he admitted, and you nodded. It was a good school. It was a great school that was 8 hours 27 minutes and 36 seconds, which is how far away Peter was supposed to be. But he wasn’t. He was here, attending the same school you were, the same school he was originally supposed to attend. With you.

“He seems cool enough, maybe we’ll see him around.” You wanted to give James credit for how cool he was trying to be about this. 

“Maybe,” you forced a smile. You wondered just how much you’d be seeing him around and just what that meant.  

“Pete you have no right to be upset about this,” May said, shaking her head on the other side of the phone.

“Don’t you think I know that,” he groaned and clutched the phone tighter to his ear as he walked around campus. It had been a couple of days since your little interaction and it had been on his mind since it happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. “And I’m not upset! I’m just…surprised.”

“What were you expecting?” May asked. 

“Not him, thats for damn sure,” he mumbled grumpily. Truthfully, James had never done anything to make Peter hate him, he might even be an okay guy, but that wasn’t for Peter to find out because he was dead set on hating his guts, valid reasoning or not.

“Pete he’s not that bad,” his aunt tried to reason. “He’s actually an okay guy, he’s sweet and—”

“She deserves more than okay! And what about—wait a minute…have you met him?”

The line was quiet for a moment, confirming his suspicions. Peter scoffed just as May said, “it’s not like that! He came over during winter break and I happened to run into him. I spent a few hours at their apartment and—I don’t have to explain myself to you! Look Peter,” May sighed and he could picture her rubbing her temple the way she usually did when he got a little too much for her sometimes, “you broke up with her, you stopped reaching out, and you were the one who chose not to see her during your winter break,” she scolded through the phone and Peter felt his whole body flush with shame and guilt. He had done those things and there was no denying it, but while he might’ve considered them the only options at the time, god did he regret all of it after seeing you with that guy.

“I know,” he admitted in a low voice, “I did fuck up, and we can talk about that later but I’ve gotta go for now, May, bye.”

“Bye, Pete,” she replied, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he hung up and stared at the door in front of him. After your first meeting, he wasn’t sure if this was as good an idea he had built it up to be in his head. 

Too late, he thought, and pushed open the door too the newsroom. 

“Hey, Peter right?” A redhead approached him with a bright smile on her face.

“Yeah that’s me,” he shrugged his backpack higher onto his shoulder and held out a hand.

“Alyssa, I’m the editor,” she said as she accepted his handshake, “I cannot tell you what a jam you’ve gotten us out of, really we’ve never run this low on members. Usually, we’re fighting them off with a stick, but apparently there aren’t too many people into photography right about now.”

“Oh hey, no problem. I saw the notice in the newsletter,” he shrugged, “thought I’d try something new.”

“Well, I really appreciate that Peter, I saw the photos you sent me, they’re amazing. Honestly, if the ones you submit for the paper are half as good, we’re going to be perfect.”

“Thanks Alyssa,” he always appreciated when people spoke well about his photography. You were always his biggest fan when it came to his interests and hobbies. You knew everything about him, from big to small, and yet you never belittled any part. He wondered if you had any clue how much that had meant to him. In a world where people praised Spider-Man for being the strong willed hero he was while simultaneously berating Peter for…well everything, you did the opposite. You loved him, every part. From the boy who went out to fight crime almost every free hour he could get, to that same boy who would sit on your bedroom floor and do physics homework with you and was crazy good at it.

He felt a sudden nervous feeling overtake him at the thought of seeing you again in the newsroom. He knew you were on the paper, duh, but when he’d seen the notice that the news team was in need of an extra photographer to two this season, he’d thought it a good opportunity. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with you, or spending time with you. Of course not.

Alyssa walked him around, introduced him to some of the people there, the other photographers (only one, at present, his name was Ryan. Apparently there was a shortage of people willing to take photos for the paper this semester), and by the end of his mini tour he couldn’t deny the small amount of relief at not seeing you…and yet at the same time…disappointment. Maybe you just weren’t in today.

He spoke to soon.

Stopping back at the front of the room, Alyssa turned to him again, “Well, I think that’s most of the people, at least, who are in today. Y’know, it’s pretty slow for start of the semester—” Her eyes darted somewhere behind him, obviously distracted by something. Peter watched her face light up before she said, “Oh! Looks like I was wrong,” she beckoned someone to come closer. Peter could feel the vibe shift in the room. “Peter, this is Y/N!”

Peter turned and could see the exact moment you faltered. Clearly, Alyssa didn’t. Nor did she notice the not-so-subtle looks you were throwing her way. “Y/N this is Peter, he one of our new photographers.”

To make things even better, James chose right then to walk in. “And this is James!”

James came to stand right beside you, taking up a stance much similar to the one he had during their first meeting, except this time his arms draped over your shoulder and tugged you into him. 

“Oh, we’ve met. Patrick, right?”

Peter definitely didn’t like this guy. 

“Peter,” Alyssa corrected, “I was just introducing him to Y/N, he’s a part of the photography team.”

“Oh I don’t think they need much of an introduction.” James remarked. You winced. Peter wanted to punch him. Poor Alyssa was growing more confused by the second.

“So…have you two met as well?” She tried. 

“Lyss do you remember when I told you about Peter from high school?” You trailed off at the end, hoping she’s catch it on her own.

Alyssa snorted, “You mean the dick who broke up with you on graduation? Yeah I remember—” she gasped and looked at Peter, then back at you. 

You nodded. Alyssa couldn’t keep the shock off of her face. Finally, James spoke up, “And as lovely as this has been, we should really get to work.” Peter watched as he pulled you away to a pair of desks on the other side of the room. He watched you take a seat at one, James at the other, and he wondered if this was how you’d met him. Did you like him because he attractive? Funny? What about him had caught your attention in the first place? And then the worst thought of all, did you love him? Peter repressed a shudder, he couldn’t handle that right now, or maybe ever. 

He turned back to Alyssa, who had been standing quietly beside him since her earlier remark about him (rightfully so, he had been a dick), “So where should I set up?” He lifted his backpack on his shoulder for emphasis. 

Wordlessly and wide-eyed, Alyssa pointed to an empty desk. It was two desks across from yours.

This was going to be interesting. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your Peter was here! In Columbia! Joining the paper!”

It hadn’t taken your roommate long to find some (shitty) excuse to drag you out to the hall to give you the talking-off you were expecting. “I can go in there and fire him right now!” She was flexing her powers as the new editor. 

Lyss had made abrupt climb to editor at the end of last semester. Brandon had resigned to take some time to himself while he applied to grad schools all over the country and went through the trials and tribulations that was senior year of undergrad and honestly, you couldn’t have thought of anyone better to take him place. You’d all gone out to celebrate, the whole news staff, but the two of you and James had had your own little celebration at your apartment later that night.  

“I’m sorry! It’s just been so hectic! You’re so busy all the time, you’re barely home, and honestly I didn’t really believe it at first. And he’s not my Peter,” you scoffed, “he’s just Peter.”

Lyss snorted, “Y/N there’s no way you could possibly think I’m too busy to hear about all this, this is huge! Tell me everything!” She exclaimed eagerly. “When’d you first run into him? How did James know? Did you tell him? Oh my god, what did he say?”

“Calm down girl,” you held up both hands. “I ran into him a couple days ago, James was with me, and he was actually super cool about it!”

Lyss gave you a look. “What?” You asked confused. 

“Now, what exactly had you thinking he was cool about it? ‘Cause that was not the vibe I was getting in there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Patrick? Please,” she giggled, “that was totally on purpose, of course he remembered his name. And the way he had his arm around you?”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “This is all so crazy. I don’t know what hell he’s doing back here.”

Lyss perked up, “My offer to fire him still stands babe! Just say the word and poof,” she made a gesture with her hands, making you laugh.

“We both know can’t actually do that. We’re running low enough on photographers as it is, you can’t just fire a perfectly good one.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “I can always grab a camera and try my hardest. I always thought I’d be great at photography.”

You grinned, walking back towards the door to the newsroom, Lyss following beside you, “Oh yeah? How come?”

“I don’t know,” she frowned, “that was a total fucking lie, I’ve never thought twice about photography. But I probably could do it! If it came down to it.”

You laughed as you entered, but one of the other writers quickly interrupted it “Alyssa, we need your help with this layout.”

Lyss looked at you smiling, “Duty calls, this isn’t over.”

You smiled, “Go. We’ll talk later.”

As she walked off, you made your way to your desk, avoiding any eye contact with Peter. It was just your luck he got sat right across from you. You briefly wondered if Alyssa’s editor could get him moved. You’d have to bring this up with her later.

A file dropped on your desk, causing you to look up. James stood above you, smirking and successfully blocking your view of Peter (if you were trying to look over at him, which you weren’t). You wondered it he’d done that on purpose. “Those copies you were looking for,” he proclaimed, pointing towards the file, “fresh out the printer. 

Shit. You had completely forgotten about these with everything and you needed them to finalize the current article you were working on. Smiling, you gushed jokingly, “My hero, thank you so much!” 

James’ smirk grew as he placed his hands on his hips dramatically. “Just call me your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

You were about to laugh until you heard a scoff come from behind him. Your smile fell from your face and you watched James’ expression change as he turned to see Peter. “Something funny man?”

“No,” Peter replied, not even bothering to look up from his computer. That was until he let his eyes meet yours. It was barely a second, but it was long enough for James to notice. 

James stood perfectly still in his spot in front of your desk before silently walking over to his and taking a seat without another look at either of you. 

You tried to get him to look at you so you could silently apologize or something, but he wouldn’t budge. 

You weren’t sure how this was going to work. 

You swiped your hair out of your face as you walked out of the lecture hall, your shoes echoing on the hard-tile floor. Stepping out of the building, you took a deep breath. You’d had a long day and you couldn’t wait to get to your apartment and crash on the couch. You weren’t even sure if you could make it to your room. You’d try to get in a nap before you were supposed to meet up with James tonight. The two of you had been busier lately and you’d felt bad about everything going on with Peter, so you tried to set aside some time just for you and him. It was going to be a low-key night, just the two of you ordering in, maybe watching a movie, you thought it was much needed.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw Peter leaning against the wall of the building adjacent to the one you just exited. The photography building. You hadn’t seen him recently. Even at the newsroom, it seemed the two of you had different schedules lately. 

You kept your head down, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. 

“Hey Ace! Wait up.”

Clearly, you wouldn’t be so lucky.

You paused, not even bothering to pretend like you hadn’t heard him. It was Peter, you knew him better than you knew yourself, he would’ve just chased after you. 

You took in his appearance as he walked up to you. You hadn’t really given yourself the chance before, with James around and everything…Peter had changed. You could see it now clearer than ever. He moved with a confidence in himself and with his body he hadn’t possessed before. And he looked buffer. 

Peter had told you how after the bite, everything had changed, his senses, his appearance, and while he had definitely been strong before…now there was visible muscle to back it up. You suspected than even if he tried to hide under baggy sweaters like he did back in high school, it wouldn’t work. But something told you that this new Peter was done hiding.

Gone was the scrawny little kid you’d known your entire childhood and before you stood a handsome young man who would’ve left that same little kid awestruck. “Been hitting up the gym?” You asked once he was close enough to hear. 

Peter chuckled, “Yeah, actually. I started back in freshman year, it helped clear my mind off everything.”

How someone could possibly juggle classes, homework, super hero work, workouts, and manage to eat, sleep, and drink, you’d never know. But if anyone could do it it was Peter. 

“May and I were talking.” Safe bet to start with May, you thought. “She was asking about you, said its been a while since she’s seen you.”

“Mhm,” you agreed, a little confused as to where he was going with this, “I haven’t been home in a bit, but we’ve texted.”

“Oh yeah, that’s nice!” Peter reached to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his you knew all too well. “If you wanted you, could come over for dinner with us sometime. She’d love to have you.”

“Umm…” was he serious right now? “Thanks Peter, but my schedule’s kinda packed right now. I’ve got like three essays due and I have a big article coming up soon, so I’ll have to pass. Tell May I miss her too though.”

“Oh, the competition, right? That’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. You know about it?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I think I heard Alyssa mention it and you having something to do with it. Congratulations, by the way, I heard it’s a pretty big deal.”

You grinned, “It is. Front page big deal. I’m excited.” You admitted. 

Peter smiled, so genuine you could see those crinkles form beside his eyes. You remembered how you used to trace them with your fingers. “All your writing belongs on the front page, if you ask me.”

You blushed. He couldn’t just say things like that, not anymore. “Thanks, but you haven’t even read any of it yet.” You hadn’t had a piece published since he’d arrived here, he couldn’t have read any of your work yet.

“That’s not true,” he said simply, with no further elaboration. 

Your phone rang, cutting off your conversation. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled it out to see James’ name flashing across your screen. You held up a finger to Peter and walked a few paces away before answering. 

“Hey!”

“Hey babe, so listen, Nash just broke up with his girl and we thought we’d take him on a barhop to cheer him up. I’m picking you up at 10.”

Your brows furrowed. Barhopping did not sound like something you wanted to do tonight, or ever. And didn’t you already have plans? “Um, weren’t we supposed to hang out tonight?”

“Oh pfft, that wasn’t anything special, we were just going to order takeout. So 10?” Oh. You’d beg to differ, him and his friends always found an excuse to get absolutely plastered at least once a week, and the two of you had barely seen each other. At first you’d thought he was a little upset with you because of the whole Peter thing but now…you wondered if he even cared. 

You cleared your throat, rubbing the palm of your empty hand on your shirt. When had you gotten sweaty? “No I think I’m good. I have some stuff to work on, but you have fun though! I’ll keep the door unlocked tonight.” It wouldn’t be the first time you’d nursed a drunk and incoherent James (and terribly hungover in the morning)

“Damn, you sure?”

You hummed in response.

“Kay, bye.”

“Bye.”

You shoved your phone back into your pocket. At least now you could take as long as you wanted with your nap. 

“Is he always like that?”You jumped. You had completely forgotten Peter was still there, and now he was stepping closer to you, taking back the distance you’d put between you to answer your phone call.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your boyf—James, is he always like that? Partying, getting drunk, barhopping?” Right…Peter wasn’t just Peter. He was also Spider-Man, which meant he’d just heard everything. As if this day couldn’t get fucking better. You didn’t need your ex-boyfriend judging your current one, he had no right.

“No.” You frowned. “So what if he likes to party sometimes? Isn’t that what college is about?”

“I’m not attacking him Ace. I guess I was just wondering how the two of you got together when you’re so different. I mean, even to someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do, it doesn’t take me to figure out barhopping isn’t your scene.”

“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you snapped back, “not anymore at least.”

Peter paused, a look of hurt flashing across his features, as if that were something he hadn’t even considered. A small part of you relished in it, in him knowing things had changed since the last time you’d seen each other, and he couldn’t just ignore that. No amount of pretending would fill in that gap. 

“Goodbye Peter.” You didn’t want to talk about James with him anymore than you already had. 

“The invitation still stands,” he blurted. You gave him a weird look. “To dinner,” he explained, “the invitation still stands. I meant what I said, May would love to have you over, and so would I. So if you’ve ever got the time…” he trailed off.

You couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your face. Only Peter could switch your moods so fast, and you had no doubt he meant it about the dinner, just like you had no doubt he would also completely understand if you ignored his offer altogether. 

“Thank you Petey, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thank you Petey,” 

God he’d bet you didn’t realize it, that the nickname had just rolled off your tongue. You probably hadn’t thought twice about, he, however, certainly had. In fact, the moment hadn’t left his mind. You’d given him a smile so sincere, he would’ve given you anything you asked for just to keep you looking at him like that. And paired with the nickname? He was done for. 

He had sat outside the English building in hopes of finally getting to see you again. He was starting to believe he must be a masochist, because every time he saw you it felt like a punch to the gut. Was it possible for someone to get more beautiful by the second? But he couldn’t help it, he was drawn to you, always had been and always will be. 

The worst of it was when you were with James. God, just thinking the name made his entire mood sour. But seeing the only girl he’d ever loved with someone else made him want to punch something (someone; and that someone was James). And hearing that phone call you’d had with him only further pissed him off. How the hell could he even think to ask you to go barhopping, if he knew you at all he would know that you would much rather prefer a quiet night at home. And it seemed that was exactly what you had planned, before that douchebag cancelled to go out with his friend. 

He had been out patrolling most of the evening and well into the night. Now he was on his way home, it had been a quiet night so he thought he might as well retire early. He could always come back out if need be. That was one of the greater things about college, more freedom, a more flexible schedule, unlike high school. 

Just as he was swinging his way back home, he caught sight of a familiar figure lounging on a fire escape. You were home. Peter hadn’t really spoken to you since he’d caught you walking of class. You’d see each other around, but there was nothing more than brief moments of eye contact. 

You looked peaceful, reading silently as a soft light filtered through your window. He was going to change that. 

He landed softly a couple stories above you. Flipping over, he shot out a web and caught himself so he was hanging upside down. Slowly, he lowered himself until he his head was almost brushing the floor of your fire escape. “How’s it hanging?”

You shrieked, dropping your book in fright. Now, Peter would never want to actually scare you, but he couldn’t help messing around every now and then. 

“What the fuck Peter,” you hissed, one hand resting on your heart as you breathed heavily. Peter righted himself and landed completely in one smooth motion.

He swiped off his mask and grinned. “I thought it was funny.”

You whacked him with your book. 

Peter threw his arms up and cowered slightly, “Mercy! Mercy!”

“Shut up!” You laughed softly, “Someone might hear you.”

He put arms down and fixed you with a serious expression, “Did you or did you not just scream a couple of seconds ago?”

You whacked him with your book again.

Peter was cackling like a madman at this point and it didn’t take long before you were joining him. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, laughing together on your fire escape, a place ripe with memories of your life together before. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked once you’d calmed down and caught your breath again. 

“I was swinging back home when I saw you out here reading. Thought I’d stop by and say hey.”

“Or give me a heart attack,” you murmured. 

He laughed again, “Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not,” you rolled your eyes but your smile escaped. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, grinning. This was nice, so nice. 

You fell into a soft silence, neither of you wanting to break the comfortable atmosphere you’d created. You decided to speak up, but so did he. 

“I wanted to—”

“Ace I—”

You looked at him and held back a laugh. He shook his head softly and smiled. Settling down across from you, Peter stretched his legs out (longer than they were before, and taking up more space, he almost didn’t fit), and he pointed towards you, “You first.”

“Fine. I wanted to say sorry for snapping at you so much since you’ve been back. Its just been…” you fidgeted with your hands and bit your lip, “weird.”

His heart fell a little bit, why in the world would you be apologizing? “Ace, you don’t need to apologize for a thing, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry Ace, I know its weird, I know you had no warning when I just popped back into your life, and I know it’s weird.” He nudged your leg with his and smiled, “Hell I’m lucky your even talking to me right now.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Well it’s not like you gave me much of a choice, you cornered me on my own fire escape!”

He laughed. “True, I guess.” Peter added a dramatic sigh before his next sentence, hoping to hide how nervous he actually felt, “I could always go if you want me to.”

“No,” you said softly, “I don’t mind.”

Peter felt like doing a happy dance.

“What’re you doing home?” He asked. He knew you had your own apartment near campus (with Alyssa, he’d learned. He quickly, learned how close you two were, he was glad you had a friend like that.) and he  couldn’t think of a specific reason you’d be home. 

“My mom bought some new furniture and she asked me to come help her put it together. I figured I’d just spend the night.”

“Oh? I thought she was banned from shopping?”

“She was! Until she wasn’t.” You laughed out loud, making Peter laugh as well. 

The night went on like that, you and Peter sharing simple conversation. You avoided touching on the touchier subjects for now. You weren’t exactly ignoring them, both of you knew they were there, sitting beside you as you conversed, waiting to be picked apart and discussed at length. It just seemed that the two of you had silently reached an agreement, that for now, you’d enjoy whatever peace you’d found. Because at the end of the day, first and foremost, you two had been friends. The bigger things could come later. 

It had been a week since that night on your fire escape wand you were actually starting to think you could handle Peter being back. Seeing him around had been brief lately, you suspected he was finally getting settled in his classes and his life here, but when you did see him it was easier. Less tension-filled. Unless James was around, that made it harder. 

You were laying on the couch in your living room, Lyss laying opposite you, both your legs meeting in the middle. The two of you were watching Pride & Prejudice (the 2005 one, of course, because no one really cared about the 1995 series) while a bowl of popcorn lay half-eaten on the coffee table in front of you. 

You reached out and grabbed a handful of popcorn, “Kiera Knightley is so fine.”

“Tell me about it, oh my god,” Lyss exclaimed, dramatically fanning herself. “I watched ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ when I was younger, I’ve never been the same since.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Peter and I watched them all together during one of our summer breaks, and that scene with her and Orlando Bloom had me practically drooling.” You giggled. 

“Speaking of Peter,” the way she said it had you thinking she’d been dying to bring this subject up, “how’s that going?”

“Um…good. Well, better, I guess is the right word. Things are going better than the first few times I saw him around but of course there’s still that weirdness.”

“God, I still cant get over how crazy it is that he just randomly pops up here, outta nowhere!” You’d always talked about Peter with Lyss, you’d told her your history with him long before he’d shown up, but now she could finally put a face to the name. 

“You’re telling me,” you snorted. “I saw him when I went back home last week,” you shook your head, “we talked on my fire escape like we used to. It was almost unreal.”

“Weren’t you guys no contact since winter break of freshman year?” She asked. 

You hummed in confirmation and she whistled. “So he hasn’t given you some grand love proposal, has he?”

You choked on a laugh, “No. Of course not.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged casually, “you don’t transfer to the school you know your ex-girlfriend attends, join the paper you know she’s on, and hang out on her fire escape where you hung out when you were together unless you still have feelings.”

Frowning, you popped some more popcorn your mouth. You didn’t want to believe Peter still had feelings for you, it would make everything so much harder.of course, there was something there, and if you were being honest, there probably always would be. You were each other’s first loves and that didn’t just disappear into thin air. 

But Peter had left you, and you had a boyfriend now. Everything else was irrelevant.

Lyss leaned over and poked your cheek, “Don’t pout, I was only kidding. Sorta.”

“I know,” you said, shooting her a smile. 

“Stop thinking about him and start think about the killer article you’re going to write me about tomorrow.” She shot you a wink. 

Right. The competition was tomorrow. And you were going with James. 

“OH! Hand clench scene!” Lyss jumped up, tearing you away from your thoughts. 

Peter had left you, and you had a boyfriend now. Everything else was irrelevant.

Tomorrow should make a great distraction.

The venue was beautiful. You made your way around, stopping to appreciate every photograph, taking in all the details of the art hanging on every inch of the walls. You loved it. 

You looked up at James and grinned, “Do you get it now?”

He smiled and shook his head, “To be honest with you, nah.” He smirked at you, “But I’m here with the prettiest girl in the whole school, so what does it matter?”

You flushed and looked down at the empty notepad in your hands, by the end of the night it was probably going to be full. You were going to walk around taking notes of all the unique pieces, but the biggest part of your job today would be later, when they announce the winners. There were three runner ups and then, of course, the first place winner. You’d be speaking to all of them tonight, longer with the winner. 

Just as you’d told James, this thing had a dress code. He had gone for a navy jacket with a white button down underneath, and a pair of white slacks. You were wearing a pretty black dress that fell to just below your knees; it had a soft tulle layer that swished as you walked and floral embroidery that ran along the whole thing, the green of the vines and soft pink of the flowers popping out with the darker undertone. You felt good about tonight, really good. Alyssa had chosen to give you this big piece of news and you weren’t going to let her down. 

You walked around the venue hand-in-hand with James, getting familiar with the art and the artists, stopping by to compliment a few that really popped out to you. Your favorite so far was a stunning picture taken by a girl named Macy, she’d captured of Bow Bridge at Central Park. She’d used some kind of vintage camera giving the photo an ethereal, elegant, romantic feel to it, with the flowers on the bushes, the green of the scenery, and the golden glow on the bridge and the people walking upon it and boating on the waters beneath it, if it was up to you this would definitely be picked as first place. 

You’d tried to get James to see the same beauty you saw in the picture, the almost fantastical vibe of it, looking more like a painting than reality, but he hadn’t understood, claiming it was ‘just a picture of the park’ leaving you more than a little disappointed. Maybe some people really just didn’t understand art. 

“Think we’ve seen almost everything,” you murmured to James as you looked around to see if there was a place you hadn’t been yet. 

“Actually, there’s a few on the other side of that wall we haven’t seen yet,” he pointed, “been seeing lots of people come in and out of there. I think one of the winners might be there.”

“Oh my gosh I completely missed that part, thanks!” You leaned up and pecked his cheek, making him grin. “Anytime babe.”

That would be your last happy moment of the night. 

You walked through the photos slowly and marveled at how, when it came to art, everyone truly had their own style. Each piece had a tag beside it, conveying the name of the work and the name of the photographer. Though most of the presenters liked to hover near their piece in case anyone had questions or wanted to know more, it was easier this way for the judges to get the information they needed. 

You were talking to someone about their picture when James nudged you. “Is that Peter?”

He pointed to your left, and you saw the side-profile of Peter talking to someone with his arms crossed. Peter was here? Well, it did make sense, he was a photographer after all. This was more than his scene. 

“He’s probably here to get pictures for the paper,” you shrugged. 

James held your hand a little tighter as the two of you walked through some more photos. “Alright, this is getting boring,” James sighed heavily. 

“Really?” you frowned, “I really like it. I think its fun.”

He eyed you, “You already got the article babe, you don’t have to put on an act anymore.”

You laughed lightly, but you weren’t really finding this funny, “I’m not acting! Did you see ‘love in the air’? I don’t think I’ve ever seen something more beautiful.” That was the name of the piece you’d loved, and you had to say, it was accurate. It was like looking through rose-tinted-glasses, finding the lovely in everything. 

“The one of the park?” James rolled his eyes, “it’s Central Park, there’s nothing special about it.” You were opening your mouth to argue when he cut you off, “They’re just photos, babe. Now, when are they gonna announce the winners so we can get outta here?”

You frowned and looked down at your watch. There was only about half an hour until winners were announced. You were going to write down something in your notepad when you heard James mutter a curse under his breath and come to a stop beside you, his hand going limp in yours. 

“What? What is it—” you looked up to see what had gotten him and you really wished you hadn’t. In front of you hung a piece you hadn’t seen before, this particular photograph, or photographs as it was more of a collage, had something none of the other ones didn’t…you. 

“Who…?” But it was no use because you knew who, and so did James. 

Neither of you needed to look at the tag to know who the contestant was, but you did anyway. 

‘Seasonal’

By: Peter Parker

It was a bright, colorful, collage conveying the changes of the seasons. One corner had bounds of snowflakes and different clips of snowy fields and icicles, stretching out to merge with the corner opposite of it, summer. Bright blue waves, soft tufts of sand. Both corner melted down the sides of the poster board to create spring, which was full of beautiful, soft colored flowers, sprouting up as if just given life. The project was beautiful, you had to admit. You’d known Peter had a knack for photography but all these photos, the dedication to this project, was extremely admirable. There had to be hundreds of photos, cut up, some bigger than others, and perfectly arranged with each other to create this harmonic view of nature, all taken by him,  

But the problem was the center. Autumn. Which was you. It took up the middle body of the collage, it was dead center. Unlike the other seasons, this one didn’t have multiple photos bringing it together, it was the key piece, all the others worked to make this one shine. 

That picture Peter had taken of you in Central Park, the one where he’d gotten you to lay on a pile of leaves, made you laugh so he could capture the perfect shot. You’d forgotten about it, honestly, you weren’t even sure if you’d seen it after it was taken. But now, here it was, over two years later, submitted in a fucking photography competition. 

“What do you think?” You weren’t sure how long you were there, staring at that photo of yourself, it could’ve been hours, days even, before that heart-wrenchingly familiar voice.

You turned around quickly, coming face to face with Peter, who was looking at you with a heavy expression. You had seen him earlier when James pointed him out, but it was from across a crowded room and you’d only seen his side. He towered over you now, in a black button down, with black slacks and a black belt. You knew you shouldn’t even be thinking it, but he looked good. His shirt fit him perfectly, hugging him in all the right places, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his thick forearms. It wasn’t until he crossed them over his chest and looked at you expectantly that you realized you were staring and he was waiting on an answer. 

Before you could give it to him, James spoke up, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” His voice was low and angrier than you’d ever heard it, causing alarm bells to go off in your head. Peter didn’t bother even acknowledging him, his eyes were solely on you, and that seemed to piss him off even more. 

“You think this shit’s funny?” James growled. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Peter rolled his eyes.

You stood shell-shocked in your place, unsure of what to do. “That’s it,” James said, “I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” He stepped forward suddenly, making you jump into action. 

“Stop it,” you hissed, but he wasn’t listening, walking from your side right up to Peter. 

His previous remarks had gained the attention from the small groups of people who were close enough to hear them. 

“Take it down,” he said as he got up in Peter’s face. Peter, to his credit, didn’t budge an inch. In fact, he was looking at James as if he were nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing past. James stood at least a couple inches taller than Peter, and yet he wasn’t the most intimidating one here, not by a mile. 

“No, but I’d be happy to take you down,” with a damn smile on his face. You wanted to slap them both. 

“You little—”

“Enough!” You stepped in, throwing your arm between them and holding it against James’ chest. You weren’t going to sit there and let them throw hands at an event like this, especially not over you. 

Peter sucked in a breath, eyeing the arm you had strapped across James’ front in a feeble attempt to hold him back. Something unreadable shone in his eyes, and his jaw ticked as he met your glare.

“You are not doing this here,” you said in a hard voice, refusing to look at Peter anymore and instead staring up at James. His face was stone and his eyes were set on Peter, whose eyes were set on you. 

It was like some crazy triangle or something. 

A part of you wondered what a photo of this particular moment would look like. You imagined it would be named something like ‘Lovers Quarrel’. Finally, after what felt like forever, James’ gaze finally slid down toward you. He worked his jaw for a moment before stepping back. “I need to get some air,” he mumbled. Without bothering another glance at either of you, he turned and headed for the exit.

You stood in place, eyes stuck on his retreating figure, when you heard Peter scoff. “Can you believe that guy?”

Rage flew through your blood. “Excuse me?”

“Oh come on Ace,” but his voice didn’t sound as sure as before and you could’ve laughed at the thought of him thinking you’d agree with him, “you know I didn’t start that.”

It was your turn to scoff, “Maybe not, but you didn’t hesitate to tell him how you’d take him down.”

“Well what was I supposed to do?” He asked weakly. All that confidence and haughtiness from earlier was gone, standing before you was just Peter. But you were starting to think you didn’t know Peter anymore. What you’d said to him before, about him not knowing you anymore, you’d said mostly to hurt him. But now…you wondered if there were more truth to your words than you realized. 

Sometimes there were moments like that night on your fire escape and it was like things had never changed, he’d never moved hundreds of miles away and the two of you were back just hanging out, the oldest of friends. Two people who knew each other better than anyone else ever would. 

And then there were moments like tonight.

You eyed him curiously, disappointment all over your features. You knew he hadn’t liked James but for him to genuinely partake in a fight…

“I don’t know Peter. I don’t know you anymore.” And you turned to walk in the same direction you’d seen James headed to before, but not before you glimpsed the hurt on Peter’s face. 

Stepping out the doors, you were hit with a warm breeze and the sound of New York traffic. Shuddering at the sudden change of temperature (the venue had the AC on blast, stepping outside felt like a warm hug) you looked around for James. You caught him leaning against the side of the building with a hand running through his hair. 

“Hey,” you said softly, approaching on light feet as you moved to the same wall, leaning right across from him. 

“Hey,” he deadpanned, not meeting your eyes. 

Your heart swelled with guilt. You didn’t know why; you knew you shouldn’t feel guilty, you didn’t do anything wrong and you had no clue Peter was going to do that, or be here at all. But he just looked so angry right now and you couldn’t help feeling like it was sort of your fault. 

“I’m sorry.” You wanted something, anything. Anything other than that cold look in his eyes. You wanted him to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that he wasn’t angry, not at you, just at the situation. 

He didn’t do any of that. 

After a few seconds and still no answer you raised a hand to brush away the pieces of hair that had fallen into his face in a way you thought would comfort him, but that only had him swerving to avoid your touch as if your hand were made of fire. 

You retracted it, your heart swelling with hurt. Ouch. Okay, so maybe he was mad at you. “James…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure what to say, you were afraid the slightest thing would set him off even more. 

He shook his head, jaw so clenched you were afraid it would snap. “No,” he ran a hand over his face, “Nah, I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You asked exasperated, “I don’t understand, what’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?” He sneered with venom in his voice, and you regretted saying anything at all. “The big deal is—” he cut himself off with a harsh laugh, “Honestly Y/N, if you don’t see it you’re even more blind than I thought.”

Just then, a noise sounded from inside the venue. Microphone feedback. The awards were about to be handed out. You could hear one of the judges introducing himself. You stared at James wordlessly. You didn’t want to go inside and leave things like this but you also didn’t see how you could say or do anything that would fix it. 

“James, I swear I had no idea about that,” you cleared your throat, willing your voice not to break, “I didn’t even know he’d be here.”

He wouldn’t even look at you, nodding and staring out onto the street, and that felt like an even bigger hurt. Why wouldn’t he just listen? As if he’d willed it with his eyes, a car pulled up to the curb right in front of you, tearing your gaze away from him for a moment. James walked away from you, hand settling on the handle of the backseat door and realization hit you hard, cold, and fast.

He hadn’t been waiting for you to follow him, to talk things out and make things right again. He’d just been waiting for his ride. 

Without even bothering another look your way, “Good luck with your fucking article.”

I don’t know you anymore.

I don’t know you anymore. 

I don’t know you anymore. 

It was the only thing that had been running through his brain since the last syllable had rolled off of your tongue.

How could you say that? How could you even think it? Did you seriously believe that? Did you truly think that he was so different from the boy you once loved, the boy you’d dreamed of a future with, a shared future?

His head was buzzing with thoughts about you and what you’d said when he felt hands on his shoulders pushing him. Looking around, he realized everyone was staring at him. The hands on his shoulders were pushing him forward. 

“Go, Peter,” someone beside him whispered, one of the other photographers from the paper, Ryan, who’d been standing beside him in the crowd, he realized, “you won!”

Right. He’d been so focused on you that he’d completely forgotten where he was for a moment. Shortly after you’d walked away from him, the award ceremony had begun. He didn’t even remember walking over here, or the introductions, or any other people being awarded

He wordlessly made his way onto the stage, vaguely recalled shaking someone’s hand, being handed something, a ribbon maybe? He didn’t know, he didn’t know anything except he was on stage, everyone was clapping for him, and he was looking for you. 

The closest thing he could find was the photograph of you, also on the stage, sitting in the first place slot beside him. This was wrong, it was all wrong, and it was his fault. You were so excited for this article, you’d told him as much and he could see it, and he’d never wanted to ruin it for you.

To his side stood a petite blond girl, looking to be around his age, hovering close to another photograph. It was a lovely, romantic photo of Central Park. He recalled seeing it earlier as he was roaming around the venue checking out the other pieces. It had caught his attention because it reminded him of you. 

It made his heart deflate even more. 

More chatter ensued, followed by more applause and Peter tried his best not to look so uncomfortable (May had repeatedly informed him he always looked like he was about to be sick when he was too stressed, and he didn’t want anyone thinking he was about to vomit all over his newly awarded first-prize-winning piece and all the other winners). 

At this point, he couldn’t wait for his cue to get off this godforsaken stage so he could find you and apologize. It was the least he could do but hopefully it would make things at least a little better. 

“What do you say Mr. Parker?”

He whipped his head toward the speaker. Todd Kravinski, the man running this whole thing, the same one who’d called him up here earlier and handed him the ribbon (and a check, apparently, but Peter hadn’t realized that until after) had asked him something and he’d completely missed it. 

“I—I’m sorry sir, what was that?”

Mr. Kravinski chuckled, and Peter let out a forced laugh. “C’mere kid, they’re gonna wanna get your picture, and maybe a little statement for the paper.” His stomach lurched at that last part. You were going to be taking his statement for the paper. You were going to be the one who described his piece and take the pictures he taken and turn them into words. Selfishly, he couldn’t wait to hear what you thought.

Peter walked instructed to stand near his piece, hold up his ribbon and check, and smile. He was paraded around, forced into handshakes, shoving out smiles until the corners of his mouth and his cheeks ached, and patted on the back more times than he could count. And yet all he could think about was you. 

It wasn’t until the parading around was coming to an end that he looked up from some stranger congratulating him and caught your eye, standing a few steps back, talking to Lewis, he was third runner-up and they’d been standing beside each other earlier on the stage. Peter swore his whole body froze when he saw you, every time he caught your eye it felt like the two of you were sharing a whole conversation no one else was privy to, even now after being gone for almost 2 whole years, he could feel that familiar warmth, the sensual tug of that bond the two of you would only ever share with each other. And it was so familiar, so soft, so wholly you and him, he could’ve cried. 

But then you looked away. And he could’ve cried for completely different reasons. 

He made quick work of excusing himself from his current conversation and walked over to where you were chatting up Lewis, writing down things in a small notepad. He found you so incredibly adorable standing there, biting your lip in concentration as you scribbled down something she’d just told you, careful not to miss any details.

“Hey Lewis,” he approached the two of you, your head shooting up at the familiar voice, “Congrats on runner-up, your piece was amazing.” 

They shook hands with each other, “You too man, congrats. That was one hell of a collage.”

“Thanks, hey do you mind if I steal Y/N away for a bit? I’ve been meaning to speak with her.”

“Not at all, I think we’re pretty much done here.” Lewis looked at you to confirm you’d gotten all you need. Peter could tell you very much wanted to protest and he caught your subtle glance down at your notepad. It didn’t take a genius to know you were pondering what other questions you might’ve missed that could keep you from being alone with Peter, but it seemed you couldn’t find anything because you ended up giving Lewis a tight-lipped smile. 

“Thanks for talking with me. I loved your photo, and congratulations again.”

“Thank you. can’t wait to read it,” Lewis replied, walking off with a wink in your direction. 

You immediately looked down, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes after Lewis turned his back, instead taking a enormous interest in your shoes. 

Peter cleared his throat, “Ace, can we talk?”

“Talk about what?” You finally looked up. Peter was fluent in all things Y/N, yet he knew that he didn’t need to be to see the unhappiness etched on your features. Your countenance was all hard lines and and furrowed brows and—were your eyes red? Had you been crying? 

“Seriously Peter, what do you wanna talk about? The part where you entered into a competition you knew damn well I’d be covering, the part where you entered and won using a picture of me without telling me, the part where you tried to pick a fight with my boyfriend about it, or the part where you tried to get me to side with you?”

“Ace, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go down the way they did,” he tried helplessly. He didn’t want to argue with you, mostly because he’d never cared for it, even when you were together, but also because he didn’t want to feel any worse. 

You sniffled and it felt like a kick to the gut. His thought from earlier resurfaced, and this time it was because he was completely fluent in you that he knew you hadn’t cried yet. Between whatever had happened when you’d left to find James and now, you’d gotten upset but you hadn’t cried and it was breaking him to see you trying so hard to keep that composure. 

“Well they did,” you replied quietly, avoiding his gaze once more as you crossed your arms and looked to the side. 

All Peter really wanted to do was pry your arms open, break the protective stance you’d taken up, and pull you into a bone-crushing hug that was much need by the both of you if you asked him. But he couldn’t do that. “I’m so sorry Ace. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You’ve done enough.” He wasn’t really expecting you to accept his offer, but the rejection still hurt. 

“Well, what about with the article? How can I help with that?” He hadn’t let himself think it but he was excited about the extra time with you that came with first place. Maybe there was a silver lining in all this.

“Thanks but no.” Maybe not. “Actually, I—I should go.”

He wanted to speak up. He wanted to protest. He wanted you. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t have any of the things he wanted and the same thought kept floating through his head:

It’s all my fault.

The leaves rustled around you as you walked, the breeze carried with it a certain smell you could only find on the streets of New York during this time of year. You were on the brink of summer, the nature around you was peaking. The flowers were fully bloomed, the grass a delicious shade of green, birds chirped merrily, and you felt like shit.

You and James hadn’t talked since he’d left last night after the whole thing with Peter. You’d sent texts, called multiple times, left voicemails most of those times, you weren’t quite sure what else there was to do. You should probably go to his place. Maybe you should’ve even gone last night, but…you weren’t up for it yet. Not then and not now.

And then there was Peter.

Stupid, annoying, confusing, infuriating, Peter Parker. 

Leaving last night was a stupid idea. You were already there, you should’ve asked him a few quick questions and got it over with. Now you’d have to make time to see him, and you weren’t sure how that would go over with James, article or not.

It had felt like your heart had short-circuited when you’d seen that photo on the wall. How long had he planned that? Obviously he was aware you were going to see it…what had he thought your reaction would be? What had he thought James’ reaction would be? He probably hadn’t thought of James at all, if you were being honest with yourself.

It still felt crazy to think he was back in the city. You’d seen the news reports of Spider-Man once again in New York. The first one had popped up the same day you’d ran into him. You caught yourself thinking about him often as you walked around campus, knowing he was there somewhere as well, walking those same grounds (or swinging maybe). It was weird. It was weird working with him on the paper and yet…there was something when you were with Peter, something you hadn’t felt in almost 2 years. Something a part of you knew, deep down, that you would never feel with anyone else.

“Funny seeing you here.” You’d know that voice absolutely anywhere. It was how you’d first discovered him as Spider-Man, after all.

You turned, coming face-to-face with Peter. He was in a dark grey t-shirt that fit him like a glove, dark washed jeans, and a beat up pair of converse he’d had since you’d known him. He looked every bit the boy you once knew, only less boy and more man now. That was another change you hadn’t gotten used to. 

“Is it?” You asked, because something in his tone told you he’d expected to find you here.

“No,” he shook his head, “I remembered you always came for walks here when you were having a rough time and after everything that happened last night…lucky guess.”

Stupid, annoying, confusing, infuriating, Peter Parker.

Of course, he knew where to find you. “You always were a genius.” You said as you continued to walk slowly, Peter picking up pace to stride beside you. 

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, to figure you out. I know you Ace, no matter what, I’ll always know you.”

James doesn’t know you, he never would’ve known where to find you and you weren’t even sure he’d bother looking—

No, you had to stop that. Comparing the two of them wasn’t going to get you anywhere except all stuck in your head. Peter wasn’t yours, not anymore, no matter how well he knew you. He’d made sure of that. 

“Well did you want something?” You weren’t exactly being pleasant, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. You couldn’t believe you’d apologized to him for being ‘snappy’ because right now all you could think was how much he deserved it. 

He stopped his walking and grabbed your elbow, stopping you as well, “I know I was a dick last night, hell, I know I’ve been a dick to you far before last night, but I wanna make it up to you if you’ll let me. I care about you Ace. I always will.”

You didn’t care about me when you ghosted me, you didn’t care about me when you stood me up on winter break, you didn’t care about me when you left me and moved all the way to North Carolina—

That wasn’t going to do anything but make you miserable, and even more snappy. You sucked in a deep breath. He was here. Might as well get what you needed from him, right?

“I’m gonna need to ask you a few questions, y’know, just basic stuff. For the article.”

Peter grinned as if that was exactly what he was hoping you’d say. “Yeah, yeah sure. Of course, anything.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. He was so ready and willing to give you everything you asked for, you were sure if you demanded he hand you his wallet, he wouldn’t object. 

You pulled out your notepad and pen from your tote bag, extremely grateful you always kept them on hand. Flipping open to a new page, you clicked your pen, flipped your hair over your shoulder, and cleared your throat, “Social security number, date of birth, and the last thing you ate in full detail?”

Peter choked out a laugh, “Um, okay. I don’t have it memorized, August 10th 2001, and a medium toasted bagel with extra cream cheese, no seasoning.”

“No seasoning?” You asked, scrunching up your nose in disgust. “What, so you just like plain, boring bagels like an old man?”

“Hey,” he jumped to his own defense, “no hating on plain bagels! They’re like the vanilla ice cream of the bagel world, classic. You can never go wrong with a plain bagel. It can never be too much, it can never be too little. It’s just right.”

You snorted, “Alright, keep it in your pants Parker, I think I’ve heard enough. Plain bagels rock.”

“Damn right they do,” he deadpanned. 

Chuckling, you remembered something. “Oh my god, are you talking about the bagels from the little cafe next to the library?”

“Yeah! You know it?”

“Know it? Oh my god I practically moved in there during finals week. Have you tried their muffins? You would love them. I know you always hated when muffins are baked too dry because—”

“It’s like eating sand.” You both said in unison. You stared up at him, but he was already looking at you. He had this look in his eyes that was so wholly Peter, you almost couldn’t stand it. It took everything in you but you broke eye contact, clearing your throat before you continued speaking, “So um—tell about your photograph. What was the inspiration behind it? Why did you choose that piece?”

“Photography is often about telling a story, or at least part of it, and this piece…it means a lot to me.” You held your breath as he spoke. “I love the feeling of the picture, or rather, pictures. My piece tells a story about nature. I tried to show the beauty in all aspects of it, and while doing that, I tried to tell a story of my own.”

You tried your hardest not too think to hard about what he was saying. Which was hard considering you were literally the fucking center of this piece he was speaking of. “Your piece was a very well laid-out collage, how long did it take you to put it together?”

“Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, a gesture so familiar it felt like your heart was crying, “well I joined pretty last minute, so about a week, but I was cramming the whole time.”

You went quiet for a few minutes before coming up with your next question. “Was that your first choice? The piece I mean.” It wasn’t really relevant to the article but…you were curious. 

“I was going to do something with constellations,” he admitted. 

Oh. Thank god he didn’t. You might’ve lost your mind. 

“But those are harder to catch on camera, and I entered last minute,” he finished. “Plus,” he added, looking up at the clear blue morning sky, “my favorites are mostly visible during autumn.”

You felt like your heart was going to stop. So much history, so many unspoken things between the two of you. A part of you swore you could feel the tension wrapping itself around you and tightening, making it harder and harder to breathe the more time you spent with him. 

You don’t know how long the two of you walked in silence before he finally spoke up again, his voice hoarser than it was a few moments ago. “I thought of you every night you know.” You didn’t need to ask to know what he was talking about. “You could see them more clearly over there, the stars, and I thought of you every time. Not just because of the stars but…they were just a bigger reminder.”

“Peter—”

“You never did tell me what you thought of it. The collage.”

You paused. You weren’t sure what you thought of it. Objectively it was a great piece, beautiful, maybe one of his best works. It had won first place for a reason. But how the hell were you supposed to be objective about any of this? “I—I think it was well-deserving of its award.”

He let out a small chuckle, “Seriously Ace? Save that kinda talk for the article, tell me the truth.”

You paused, trying to figure out the right words. Taking in a deep breath, you said, “It was beautiful Pete, even if it was a little weird just seeing myself like that. I think it might be one of the most creative and beautiful things you’ve created. I understand what you mean,” gentler now, “about the feelings and the story and everything…I think you portrayed that really well.”

It went quiet between the two of you again and you wondered if you shouldn’t have said that. You were about to make up another question but he beat you to it, “I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn’t coming back here for you, that I didn’t have any expectations for us and that this whole transfer was completely irrelevant to how we ended things but that isn’t true. And I always knew it deep down, but I hit me like a bag of bricks when I saw you again.”

This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be really saying all this, you had to be dreaming. You had a boyfriend, Peter broke up with you, he didn’t want you any more. Right? He couldn’t just come here after not talking to you for over a year and claim he transferred schools because of you. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to just dump all that on you. 

“You were doing fine over there Peter, I heard everything. You had amazing grades, you were winning awards. You basically owned that school. So why’d you come back?”

“Okay, well you’re kinda over exaggerating. It wasn’t that great.”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes, “Don’t give me that bullshit, yeah it was. It was everything you were wishing it would be.”

“No it wasn’t!” He burst out, hands running through his hair. “I tried to enjoy it Ace, I really did. But I couldn’t.” He looked at you with a pained expression. “I should’ve been having the time of my life, because yeah, in theory, it was everything I could’ve wished for. But I couldn’t enjoy a goddamn thing knowing you were over here, living a whole life I wasn’t a part of. Being away from you killed me Ace, everything I said to you on graduation? That shit ripped my fucking heart out. I didn’t want it anymore than you did.”

Tears collected in his waterline and you felt a lump in your throat. Were you finally getting the explanation you’d dreamed and hoped for over and over? Why did you feel so nauseous? “I probably wanted it less, if I’m being honest,” he laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I hated it over there Ace, not a second went by where you weren’t on my mind, not a night went by where you weren’t in my dreams. I know this is probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard but you need to believe me, I thought I was doing what was right that day on graduation. I really, truly thought that you would be happier if I did that. Not at first maybe, but eventually.” His voice got quieter and he sounded so raw, so emotional, you almost burst into sobs, “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, I just want you to be happy Y/N.”

You swore you felt your heart split in half. Peter never called you by your name. Not since that night on your fire escape when you’d patched him up after a rough night of being Spider-Man and he first bestowed upon you his personal title, claiming that it ‘just suited you’. 

You froze. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what you were feeling, but it was a lot. “I—I have,” you cleared your throat to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Ace, wait, please.”

But you didn’t. This time, you were the one who ran away.

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