#but really what's the point. ''B'' is still a good grade and my GPA is fine (3.65 on a 4.0 grading scale. 2.0 is required to graduate) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

Summary: After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

Tags: high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Part Two

This is a platonic Derek & Spencer friendship fic because they are minors, but there are seeds being fairly obviously sown for part two of this series which will be set when they are both over the age of 18.

Spencer unfolds the creased piece of paper he’s holding for the eleventh time as he stares up at the house in front of him. He remembers the address scrawled on the sheet Derek Morgan had ripped from the back of his notebook earlier that day perfectly, the spiky peaks of his handwriting and the surprisingly loopy ‘y’s and ‘g’s are burned into his brain, but nerves have overtaken his helpless body. He’s not exactly in control of his actions.

It’s not much but it’s definitely a cheerful house, that much is clear from the brightly lit windows and colourful curtains, the many gnomes decorating the front garden and the carefully planted flowers neighbouring the vegetable patch. One of the windows upstairs is cracked slightly and he can hear 90s R&B floating through the airwaves, accompanied by a female singing voice. The welcome he knows he’ll receive, though, is exactly what’s giving him pause.

A happy home is so foreign to him he has no idea how to behave. He’s used to being the adult, but tonight he has to play the 16 year old he is, and his mask is so dusty and disused he’s worried he won’t be anywhere close to convincing.

Eventually, though, he summons up the courage to make his way up the stony path leading to the bright red front door. A brass knocker stares him in the face, but there’s a doorbell to his right as well, and the choice debilitates him for a moment, leaving him standing uselessly on the front step. He decides on the doorbell, since it’s a little more subtle, and he only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door is being yanked open and a smiling Derek Morgan is right in front of him.

“I thought you’d never come.” His voice is bright and cheery but Spencer wonders for a moment if he’s mad at him. He’d been early when he first turned onto Derek’s road, but his over-thinking and ritualistic obsession over the address written on a scrap piece of paper had made him late.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and his desperation to be understood, his clear discomfort in such a foreign environment must be obvious, because Derek’s face softens even further.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” he grins, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him deeper into the hallway as he kicks the door shut behind them.

Pretty boy. He’d used the nickname once earlier that day when they were planning when to meet up for their science project, and Spencer had flushed immediately. No-one’s ever called him pretty. He’s an awkward, lanky 16 year old senior who’s far too short for his age; his appearance isn’t exactly conducive to flattery.

The last time anyone had called him by a fond nickname was when he was eleven years old and his mother was still somewhat rational. She’d pulled him close and called him her baby boy, and while some pre-teens might have recoiled from such a name, he simply snuggled closer and tried to remember every second he was wrapped up in such warmth. Five years later, he’s so thankful he did. He replays it most nights before he drops off to sleep.

He blushes again at Derek’s easy affection, trying to relax into the warmth of his house.

“Is that your friend, honey?” A woman emerges from what Spencer assumes is the kitchen, drying her hands on a teatowel. She looks every bit the stereotypical American mother, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes with a warm smile plastered across her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Fran, Derek’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says shyly, trying to meet her eyes but failing miserably. He can’t help that this whole experience is so out of his comfort zone it’s ridiculous.

“Do you boys want any snacks to take up with you?”

“Are you hungry, Spencer?” Derek asks, and he internally panics for a moment. Yes, is the answer. Yes, I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten today is an apple this morning. But is he allowed to say that? He examines the both of them and it does look like a genuine offer, but will they guess that something is wrong if he says yes? It’s only six o’clock, though, so maybe he can swing it.

“Yes please,” he dares, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fran says, putting her hands on her hips. “You both head on up. I’ll bring up a tray.”

Derek’s room is big, filled with football trophies and posters. It’s so achingly normal that Spencer’s stomach clenches as he gingerly takes a seat on his bed at Derek’s instruction.

“I did some research that will help us with our presentation,” Spencer offers as Derek sits on his desk chair, spinning around to face him.

It had been a shock when they’d been paired up. Derek’s friends had hollered and laughed when their chemistry teacher had paired them together, and Spencer had gone bright red at the humiliation, not that he could exactly blame them. Pairing up the skinny nerd who’d been moved up two grades with the jock who was almost guaranteed a football scholarship to an excellent university later this year had been a rather bizarre choice on their teacher’s part.

It’s not that Spencer minded: along with being the quarterback with a 4.0 GPA, he was also painfully nice. But everyone else certainly did. Every girl in their science class had sent him death glares as Derek had sauntered over to his desk at the end of class, wearing a lazy grin.

“Chill, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he pushes himself side to side in his spinning chair. “We got time.”

“I have to be back home by 9,” Spencer says sheepishly. He’s sure most people in their senior year are allowed to stay out later than that, and he hopes against hope Derek thinks it’s only because he’s sixteen and not that he has to get his mother into bed and try and force her meds down her throat so she won’t wake him up in the middle of the night convinced the shadows in her room are government spies.

“Still three hours. Anyway, I’m sure my mom can drop you home,” Derek shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, we have weeks until we have to present. Why don’t we spend tonight getting to know each other? I feel like I should know a little bit about my project partner, especially if we’re going to be working together for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year?” His voice squeaks anxiously but he can’t help it, Derek’s completely catching him off guard.

“Yeah. Ms Farron keeps partners from the first project together for every assignment that year.”

This is news to Spencer, but he tries to keep calm. It’s a good thing, right? Derek has always been friendly to him, and he’s intelligent, too. It’s unlikely he’ll fob all the work off onto him. But being taken advantage of and subsequently left alone is what he’s used to: ‘getting to know each other’ is decidedly new territory. Spencer’s head is spinning.

“Oh.”

“So, pretty boy,” Derek grins, giving himself another 360 spin, “tell me what a 16 year old is doing in senior year.”

“I got moved up two grades back in elementary school,” he explains, grateful that this is at least a rather impersonal topic. “My teachers wanted me even higher but two grades is the maximum our school district allows.”

“I guessed that much,” Derek points out. “Why were you moved up two grades?”

They’re briefly interrupted by Fran’s delivery of a delectable spread for them to feast on. Spencer reaches for a cracker and dips it in some cream cheese, but as soon as he’s swallowed his first bite, Derek gives him a look that tells him he hasn’t exactly gotten away with it.

He sighs. “The last time I was tested, I had an IQ of 187,” he admits, looking down at his worn sneakers. He’d expected to be told to remove them, but he’s glad he wasn’t. His socks almost certainly have holes in them, and laundry isn’t something he can afford to do often. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I knew you were a genius but that’s some next level shit,” he says, before popping a grape in his mouth. “You’re going places, Spencer Reid.” He’s saved from having to fight his blush too hard by Derek moving swiftly on. “Your turn to ask me a question.”

Spencer takes a second to think before deciding to push the boat out, to ask something he actually wants to know instead of playing it safe. “You’re popular, star of the football team, get straight As,” he starts slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes. “What makes you so nice? You could easily join in with your friends and be another asshole jock pushing me into lockers.”

When he looks up, Derek’s face is an array of emotions. “Kindness costs nothing,” he says seriously, and the intensity of his gaze surprises Spencer. “I saw my pops shot to death in front of me when I was ten and I got my ass kicked every day in freshman year, believe it or not. I know what kindness can mean to a person just as much as I know what cruelty does to someone.”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he knows that he’s finally relaxed a little. Derek’s stark honesty and vulnerability, as much as he doesn’t know quite the right way to react, is refreshing to him, and it’s made the icon of their school seem much more human.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spencer says quietly.

“Thanks, man,” Derek says, a half smile crossing his face. “What about your family life?”

Spencer swallows another bite of his cream cheese and crackers, his empty stomach thanking him for finally filling it. “My dad walked out when I was ten,” he admits, treading as carefully as possibly. “It’s just me and my mom now.”

“I’m sorry. Are you and your mom close?”

How does he answer a question like that? They’re close in the respect that Spencer cares for her and spends every free moment he has with her. But he also holds his breath every time he turns down his street, half expecting to see his house up in flames, and they’re going hungry this week because she threw most of their groceries in a nearby river after convincing herself it was all poisoned. They don’t exactly have a typical mother-son relationship.

“Something like that,” he mumbles, stuffing another cracker into his mouth. Derek clearly takes the hint that he doesn’t want to elaborate and moves on.

They spend the rest of the evening taking it in turns asking one another questions, ranging from simple ones like their favourite colours to deeper conversations around their future plans and biggest fears. By the time 9 rolls around, they’re lying next to one another on Derek’s bed both facing the ceiling as they trade questions back and forth. Fran’s dinner tray is now covered in crumbs, her carefully prepared spread having been demolished by two hungry teenagers.

Their assigned topic, Enthalpy, Entropy, and Free Energy, hasn’t even been touched, and Spencer can’t find it in him to care. He could throw together a perfect presentation the night before if he needed to. Right now, getting to know Derek Morgan seems far more important. Ironically, the boy he’s only really started to get to know three hours ago is probably the person who knows him best in this whole world, and the thought makes his chest hurt.

The jittery nerves that had consumed him at the start of the evening have dissipated into a calm companionship, and he can’t believe how comfortable he now feels. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to take care of his mom; she’s already been on her own for so long today.

As if on cue, Fran knocks on the door, poking her head round. “Would you like me to drop you home, Spencer?”

He feels guilty accepting, but the last thing he wants is a twenty minute walk home through the streets of Chicago in the pitch black December night. “Yes, please.”

Derek comes with them for the short drive, and Spencer feels a little embarrassed as he points out the apartment block he lives in. It’s a shitty neighbourhood and his building is crumbling, but it’s home and it’s the cheapest they can afford on welfare. He ducks out of the car and shoots them both a grateful smile.

“Thank you for driving me home, Fran,” he says. “And thank you for a nice evening, Derek.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Derek winks. “I’ll find you at school tomorrow and we’ll sort out another night to meet up, yeah?”

The smile the Morgans put on his face doesn’t fade until he opens the door to his apartment and reality brings him crashing back down to earth.

⭐️

Over the next few weeks, Spencer Reid gains his first friend. They finally end up actually writing their presentation and naturally, they get an A+ but Spencer’s anxiety that Derek would want to stop hanging out with him once the project that had brought them together was behind them ended up being for nothing. Derek had fist-bumped him as they’d walked out of their classroom. “Come over tonight?” he’d asked, and once Spencer had recovered from his shock, he’d beamed and nodded excitedly.

As Christmas comes and goes, they continue their bizarre friendship. Spencer runs up to Derek’s room as soon as the door is opened, and dives under the covers on his bed, always freezing cold. The first time Derek had cuddled Spencer, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. He’s seriously touch-starved, and it’s only more apparent from the way he craves contact with Derek. He’s ridiculously thankful that the older boy is so free with his affection, not consumed by the same toxic masculinity that seems to plague the rest of the football team.

It’s nearing February when Derek asks the fatal question.

Spencer had whizzed home after school and made sure his mom was okay before running over to Derek’s, breezing past Sarah on the staircase and diving onto the soft, clean bed sheets. He’s sometimes jealous of all the home comforts his friend has access to, but he does his best to tamp it down. It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault that he’s well-loved and cared for.

“Whoa, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he spins around from where he’s doing homework at his desk. “Where’s that shy boy who sat right on the edge of my bed only two months ago, hm?”

“You prefer confident Spencer and you know it.” He moves up the bed a little to sit with his back against the headboard. He’s never become so comfortable around a person this quickly before but there’s something different about Derek.

“Can’t argue with that.” He gets off the chair and moves to sit next to Spencer on the bed, lifting his arm to let the smaller boy cuddle close. Spencer sometimes has nightmares that the boys at school find out how affectionate they are with one another and call them gay after which Derek doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore. (Secretly, he thinks he might actually be gay, but he won’t tell Derek that. Just in case.)

“Can I stay for dinner?” he asks. It’s a moot point: Spencer always asks if he can stay and the Morgans always say yes, but he doesn’t like assuming, especially since he knows how expensive food is. Not that Fran has ever complained about an extra mouth to feed, though. The dinners at Derek’s house are always a family affair, full of laughter and hearty, homemade meals and Spencer likes pretending he’s one of them, just for a little while.

The guilt that he’s leaving his mom for so long eats him up, only eased by the knowledge that she usually sleeps the afternoon away, worn out by a manic morning. He has no idea how to navigate this anymore. It was easier when the only person he had in the world was his mom, but now he has Derek and his family. And as much as he loves his mom and doesn’t mind taking care of her at all, spending time with Derek doesn’t automatically trigger gut-eating anxiety and heart-wrenching misery.

“Of course you can stay, don’t be ridiculous.” Derek elbows him playfully. “You don’t need to ask every night.”

“What if one night you don’t want me to stay, though?”

“I thought I told you to stop being ridiculous?”

Spencer can’t help but smile at Derek’s relaxed, easy grin. For some reason this popular football player with the world as his oyster and a million friends chooses to spend every evening with the nerd who’s two years younger than everyone in their year. For some reason, Derek chooses Spencer.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Derek asks the question. “Why don’t I come over to your place instead one evening?” It’s a casual suggestion, there’s nothing really behind it. “I’d like to meet your mom and see your bedroom. If you’re gonna make fun of my football trophies, I need some revenge material.”

Spencer freezes. He has no idea how to respond to such an innocent proposition. Derek takes his stunned silence as reluctance simply cured with a little more persuasion. “Besides,” he continues, “I feel bad that you always have to run home first before coming over here. It’s like a twenty minute walk.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer hedges, trying to buy time as he comes up with a cover story. “My mom is really particular about our space and she doesn’t really like visitors. I’m not sure your mom could spare you a family dinner anyway.” He pushes Derek playfully, hoping to God he’s even half-way convincing.

One glance at Derek’s face tells him he isn’t buying it, but he can clearly read Spencer’s troubled anxiety expression so he doesn’t push it. “Okay, pretty boy,” he says, relaxing back into the bed, “we’ll stick with the Fran Morgan dinner delight for now.”

Something tells him he won’t get so lucky next time.

⭐️

Spring is just starting to show her face the next time it comes up, and this time it’s completely Spencer’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone over to Derek’s. He should have made up an excuse and stayed in his shitty apartment with his mom, but he couldn’t help it. He was sore and desperately sad, and all he wanted was Fran’s comforting shepherd’s pie and a cuddle with Derek. So he’d made his way home, checked his mom was still sleeping before limping over to the Morgan’s.

He’d concealed it pretty well all day, but energy is seeping out of him and the pain is only getting worse, not helped by the decent trek across town.

He has a key now, so he lets himself in, hoping to avoid Fran until dinner time. Luckily, he’s quiet enough to not disturb her baking in the kitchen, so he makes his way slowly up the stairs, hoping Derek is not as perceptive tonight as he usually is. He’d briefly considered using bullies as a cover story if it came up, but Derek has spent almost every moment he could at school with him the last few days, he wasn’t out of his sight long enough to really encounter anyone cruel enough for it to be a viable story.

“Pretty boy,” Derek greets him, not turning away from the maths homework he’s finishing up. It gives Spencer a little extra time to make it to the bed like he usually does. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs. “A bit tired. You?”

“Training was rough today so I’m sore as shit, but otherwise I’m fine. Better now you’re here.” He turns to smile fondly at Spencer, finally locking eyes on his pale, sallow skin and defeated expression. He scrambles to try and make himself look slightly less terrible, but he’s not quick enough. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine,” Spencer tries to persuade him. “Just tired as I said. Can we watch a movie while we wait for dinner?”

Derek doesn’t look even close to convinced, but he gives in and brings up netflix on his computer. Spencer collapses against Derek and lets his eyes close as the film they choose plays across the laptop screen, but he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by his friend and he’s in a completely different position.

“Spencer, wake up,” he says insistently, and the urgent worry in his tone makes him sit up, wincing when the movement aches his core.

“What? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily, obediently sitting up at Derek’s instruction.

“Pretty boy,” Derek says, sounding teary and a little desperate, “where did you get those bruises?”

He freezes for a second before glancing down at himself and realising that as he’d slept his shirt had shifted, revealing his black and blue stomach. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Not seeming himself wasn’t such a challenge, everyone has their off-days after all, but bruises like these aren’t the sort of thing your best friend just drops when you don’t want to explain them.

“I—” He has no idea what to say. Tears spring to his eyes in a terribly unhelpful fashion, and Derek moves closer, wrapping Spencer up in a hug.

“It’s okay, you can tell me, Spencer,” he promises as he holds him so tenderly it breaks his heart. “Take your time.”

He cries for a good few minutes — it just feels so good to let it out — but as his painful sobs draw to a close, he knows it’s time to face the music. There’s no other option. He has to tell Derek. And maybe a teeny tiny part of him actually wants to tell his best friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he confesses, keeping his head buried in his friend’s chest so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Derek’s hand combing through his hair doesn’t falter. “The reason I didn’t want you to come to my place is because of my mom… She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. When my dad left I became her primary carer, and I’m— I’m not doing a good job.”

Derek holds him a little tighter and presses his cheek to the top of Spencer’s head, shushing him quietly. “Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job.”

“The other night she got confused because she’d refused her meds again. She became convinced that I was a spy there to hurt her. I can usually talk her down from these moments, or at least guide her to bed to let her sleep it off, but this time there was no reasoning. Eventually, she got so worked up that she shoved me backwards, hard. It sent me sprawling face first across the coffee table, and she kicked me twice before considering herself safe and barricading herself in her room.” He tells the whole story through thick tears, shoulders still shaking with pent up emotion. He wishes it didn’t feel so good to finally get off my chest.

“Spencer, oh my God,” Derek whispers, sounding thoroughly shocked. He’s suddenly fearful that he’s going to report Diana, and he sits up, finally meeting Derek’s teary eyes with his own.

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone,” he begs. “If anyone finds out, she’ll be locked away and I’ll be put into foster care. I can’t do that to her and I can’t lose you.”

Derek takes Spencer’s hands. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, making him calm down a little. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, okay? Not without your permission. But I also can’t let you be beat up by your mom.”

“It’s not her fault,” Spencer says desperately, “it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she thinks she’s in danger.”

“I know,” Derek promises him, “I know it’s not her fault, but she still hurt you. Has this happened before?” Spencer’s hung head and refusal to respond speaks for itself. “Okay, listen. I know you need to go home tonight, but come over tomorrow morning okay? It’s a Saturday and we can spend the morning figuring out a game plan and the afternoon taking your mind off it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Is this… is this why you like being here?” Derek sounds nervous asking the question, clearly not wanting to offend him.

“Before I became friends with you,” he whispers, moving back to hide against Derek’s chest where it’s safe, “I went hungry a lot. We don’t have much money between rent and bills and mom’s medical expenses. I had to hide the groceries because she would become convinced they were poisoned and destroy them, but she got really good at finding them. I had to stop keeping them in my room because she would insist that I was corroborating with the government in trying to poison her.”

“Spencer,” Derek breathes, holding onto him for dear life. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, I would’ve done something, I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’ll keep you safe now. I promise.”

When Fran comes and asks them down for dinner a few minutes later, Derek points to Spencer’s exhausted form slumped against him and asks if they can have it up in his room. She relents, and Derek manages to get him to eat a few bites of the risotto Fran had made, not leaving his safe cocoon against Derek’s chest.

He insists on driving Spencer home himself tonight, surprising Fran who had her coat and boots on already, but he escorts his friend right up to his door. “If you come in, mom will get confused,” he explains so Derek gives him a long hug in front of his apartment door instead, holding him as close as possible.

“Spencer… you know I love you right?” he asks, expression intense and serious as his gentle hands rest on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” he whispers, giving him another hug. It scares him just how much he means those five little words, all the meanings that dance behind them taking him aback. For now, though, he settles on one more tight squeeze before deciding to not procrastinate the inevitable anymore. “I should go in and see mom.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow?”

“Perfect.” His heart does an excited little leap at the thought of seeing Derek again in the morning. As he walks away back towards the elevators, Spencer takes a deep breath before inserting his key into the lock on his door and pushing it open. He only has to go 12 hours without seeing his best friend. He can do this.

His life suddenly seems like it holds infinitely more promise than it ever has. He supposes that’s the power of Derek Morgan.

Part Two

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith (taglist form)

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan & spencer reid #derek #spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid fic #moreid writing #hurt spencer reid #protective derek morgan #moreid fluff #moreid angst

60 notes · View notes

johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

Text

So It Goes...

full masterlist

Pairings: Rock star/Bassist!Bucky Barnes x female!reader (AU)

Word count: 7,149

Warning: fluff, SMUT! but mostly just me falling in love with bucky, really.

Summary: natasha romanoff aka your annoying roommate coerced you into the howling commando’s live performance at a divebar near your dorm. little did you know, it was going to lead you to the man of your dreams aka the charming rock star boy/bassist, james buchanan barnes.

a/n: this one’s written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan‘s “Little Darlin’s Mysteru AU” challenge. i chose band/rockstar au. here’s another love letter to bucky barnes because i love that man with my entire heart and every fic that i write about him is basically just me expressing my deep affection for this man. hope you guys enjoy this one cause i certainly do! also, rock star/boy band bucky is such a concept omg i’m in love

You laid in your twin-sized bed as you heard the chirping sounds of the birds outside of your window. They were singing cheerily as if they knew what you were feeling and they were celebrating with you. It felt like you were in a Disney movie that you used to obsess over as a kid, where you are the lovestruck princess because you just met a handsome prince who swept you off your feet at first sight.

The birds outside of your window are your animal pals who swoon over you swooning and they spontaneously harmonize and dance to this newfound joy. You couldn’t resist the smile taking over your face. It was too early for you to be awake on a Saturday morning. You were always up by 10 AM. No more, no less. But it was currently 8.45 AM and you still had at least one more hour to get up and be productive.

But not today. Today, you were going to welcome this exhilarating sensation in your bones, and you were going to savour every second of it. Because you couldn’t shake away those baby blue eyes and that suave, boyish charm. The way, they electrified you by first glance and made you tremble when those pupils dilated. You could still feel the way his soft, plump lips hypnotized you last night. And the raunchy way he held you at the bar.

Even when all was said and done, he found a way to haunt you in your dreams.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

You were currently in the middle of a crisis due to your upcoming final week. If there’s any word to describe you as a college student, it would be ambitious. The idea of failing or getting less than B+ makes you go ballistic. You were an active student. You joined multiple organizations that expanded your social life. You got along with mostly everyone in your classes and you had your professors’ respect too for your excellent grades and polite manners.

But your lack of dating life irked no one else more than your roommate, Natasha. You loved Natasha with your entire heart, really. She was like a sister to you. You were an only child so you cherished her older sister role in your life. She was, in fact, several months older than you and she always protected you like her own. Starting from the asshole that broke your heart in high school, despite only knowing him through your story, to incessantly pushing you to stop being such a nerd and have more fun.

Natasha was the kind of woman you don’t wanna mess with. She was loyal, brave and quick-witted. She knows how to keep her GPA high, whilst also maintaining a fun social life. She managed to do it all so effortlessly.

“C’mon, y/n! Just one night! You need to let loose and release all tension on your shoulders, baby. It’s good for your brain before finals start!”

“Noooo, Nat. Rock bands are not my thing and I’d have a higher chance of acing the tests if I study now, okay? Just go. Have fun without me and tell me how it goes.”

“But my boyfriend’s performing, y/n. And I want you to meet him! I promise they are really good. Even if you're not into the music, you can still go for the drinks, right? Also, they’ve got other cute members available so, you might find your own rock band boyfriend too if you go.” She winked. Her smirk was menacing.

“Ugh, I’m not interested in finding a boyfriend, Nat.”

“I know, but wouldn’t hurt if you do, right? Then we can go on double dates and have them write songs about us. Oh God, it’s going to be awesome.”

“Whoa, slow down. I haven’t even learned their names, yet and we are already discussing double dates?”

“Alright, let’s just start with putting on your sexy clothes and meet them yourself. Then we can move onto picking one gorgeous beast for you.”

“What makes you even think that they’d be interested in me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n. Have you never owned a mirror? You are a total babe. You just need to get yourself more action.”

“Ugh, I don’t know, Nat…”

“You are going. And I’m not leaving until you get up and put on something cool. I have patience, baby and I’m going to annoy you all night if you stay. What do you prefer? Going out and have fun and meet some cute boys or me annoying you all night so you can’t study productively.” She glared at you. Her tone indicated that there was no compromise.

“Alright, I’m going. But that’s only because I wanna meet your boyfriend, alright? Not because I wanna find a boyfriend or whatever stupid shit you’re thinking.”

“Yay!” She jumped in excitement. Her face was content with joy and satisfaction from succeeding in persuading you. “Alright, let’s dig through your clothes.” She started rummaging your shared closet and observed meticulously each one of your outfits. “Hmm… Let’s try this one!” She picked up a strapless black sequin dress that you hadn’t worn in forever. You didn’t even remember packing it up in your baggage and brought it with you to your dorm.

You began stripping yourself out of your oversized hoodie and high-waisted shorts. You didn’t feel embarrassed changing in front of Natasha, you had seen each other naked many times. You were roommates after all and sometimes, you just had to be comfortable with the fact that you had private body parts underneath and within the course of four years, eventually, you had to get used to flashing one another at some point.

You put it on as you started to feel a little uncomfortable. You weren’t used to wearing skimpy dresses. Already wearing it for less than three minutes, you were constantly lifting the hem of the dress to prevent it from exposing your boobs and revealing your inner thighs. And the material felt itchy on your skin too. “Nat, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just wear a leather jacket and jeans.”

“Nonsense! You look bomb! Give your leather jacket and jeans a break, alright? Okay, turn around so I can see your behind.”

You twirled as she said, restlessly.

Tonight was going to be a longspun night…

The air felt crisp against your skin, as the breeze swept through your freshly curled hair, causing a few strands shading your sight. You struggled to walk steadily in your 7-inch heels that belonged to Natasha because you didn’t have a pair of your own. You were cool with wearing ankle boots pairing them with a sparkly dress. But Natasha didn’t think it was a cute look.

“What? Boots and dresses don’t go along, honey. Oh my, you need a serious makeover!” She was derailed.

You eventually settled with a silk red dress with a seductively low cleavage on the front, exposing the globes of your breasts. You were already as uncomfortable as it is, this dress didn’t make it any easier to act normal.

So you had to endure walking in these deadly shoes of torture, whilst clad in nothing but a scanty material with makeup painting your entire face. Great. What had you gotten yourself into? Damn you, Natasha.

You and Nat were walking arm in arm to the bar where “The Howling Commandos” were performing. That’s the name of the band that Natasha’s boyfriend was in. They have been a group for 5 years now, they had been doing this since they were in high school. Clint and the rest of the members were several years older than you and Nat. As soon as they graduated, they decided that they wanted to keep making music rather than working mundane, dead-end jobs.

Yep, Natasha told you that much.

Clint and Nat had been dating for two years now. They rarely saw each other due to the band’s packed schedule. Although, they would FaceTime each other every night, talking about each other’s days. You heard it all, from their most disgustingly adorable flirtations, to the most inappropriate, not so PG-13 confession.

They would literally pretend to smooch one another through the screen when you were doing your homework or when you had your nose deep in a book. You’d try to cover your ears by putting on your earbuds and turning up the volume so you could give them privacy but also, you didn’t wanna hear them talking about what they wanted to do to each other if both of them were here.

You knew Clint well enough to not feel like you were meeting a complete stranger. Natasha would often tell you to say hi to him and she had told you a lot of wonderful things to Clint. Clint would often talk about the band too on the phone, how someone called “Bucky” would piss him off by stealing his leftover sandwich. Or someone called “Sam” would often interrupt their chat by reminding him that it was soundcheck time.

“I gotta go, babe. Sammy’s not gonna stop yelling.”

“Aw, okay, tell the boys I say hi! Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

It’s like a daily podcast for you every night.

The dive bar where The Howling Commandos were performing thankfully wasn’t that far from your dorm. Natasha was super thrilled when Clint told them that they were going to perform here. They were finally able to see each other after a while, and because this was going to be their last gig until they come back with a new album, he said he was going to stay and spend some time with Nat.

You were happy for both of them. You’d never say it out loud but, a part of you was secretly jealous of their love. They managed to maintain such a fun, loving, and healthy relationship despite the distance and differences. Natasha once told you that she was never one to settle with a man for too long but, Clint changed the game for her. You smiled at the thought. They were genuinely in love. If you were to find yourself a boyfriend, you wanted the type of love that they had.

But not tonight. You were okay with being single. Just because a part of you wanted what Clint & Nat had, doesn’t mean that you actually need it or you’d die. You were too much of a goal-oriented person to be chasing over something that should come naturally. You had grown so comfortable in being alone, that you stopped desiring love so much. It wasn’t getting you anywhere. So you lived your life, being grateful for your friends and family. You invested your time in your education and passion. You were content.

When you arrived at the bar, the room was full with a crowd. You walked in with Natasha trying to make a space for yourself so you could walk through them. You could barely anything else due to the number of bodies blocking your view. Natasha held your hand as she took the lead and fought through the crowd to get to the front, where she could get the best view.

There was a blonde-haired woman standing on the front, so close to where the band were going to play. When Natasha slightly grazed her whilst trying to stand next to her, she didn’t look the slightest bit happy. She glared at Natasha as Natasha noticed. She glared back at her.

“Excuse me, there’s more space in the back, maybe you can stand there instead of cutting through the line.”

“Excuse you, miss. I’m dating the band’s drummer, so I can stand wherever I want, thank you very much. If you don’t like that, then the exit is right there.” She pointed to the door of where we walked in from.

The blonde woman rolled her eyes as she folded her arms against her chest. After you stared at her reaction, you realized that you actually know her. She was in the same social science class with you. You had never really talked to her because she often sat in the back and immediately left after the class was done, but you remembered her name. Her name was Dottie Underwood. Your classmates called her Dot. The ones that she liked anyway.

You decided to stay quiet and let it pass. It’s not like she even recognized you even if you start a chat with her. You don’t think it was a good idea either since she and Nat literally just snarked at each other. You directed your sight to the stage and waited for the famous Howling Commandos to appear.

One of the spotlights turned and highlighted a man walking on stage before he talked into the microphone at the centre. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, a group of brilliant lads, that make all the ladies go feral wherever they go, and their showstopping music are going to make us sing and jump tonight. Please welcome, The Howling Commandos!”

The crowd roared with cheers, the sounds of their enthusiasm filled the atmosphere. Their claps were jovially in sync as four, drop-dead gorgeous young men stepped into the stage as their presence shifted the energy in the room.

The first one was a blonde-haired with breathtaking bone structure, forming a ridiculously handsome face. His hair shone under the spotlight like the sun amidst the clear sky. He had an amiable demeanour about him. His smile was gentle and welcoming. He waved to the crowd and stood directly behind the microphone.

The second one to walk in was a dark-skinned man with an undeniable charisma oozing out of him. He had a neatly trimmed beard that only added to his spicy appeal. His smile was radiant as he also waved the crowd. He stood on the left side of the stage, a couple of steps behind Steve who was apparently the lead singer.

The third one to walk in was Clint. He was everything Nat described him to be. Placid and nonchalant. His smile was amenable as he greeted the crowd. He walked directly to the background, where the drumset was placed. He sat down on the drummer’s chair as he picked up the sticks he was going to play with.

The last one to enter was a literal Disney prince coming to life. His prominent boyish charm completely bedazzled you. His blue eyes gleamed under the spotlight as they lingered on you for a second. He immediately shifted his gaze as he kept walking towards the right side of the stage, but you swore that when he caught you staring dumbfoundedly at him, you could see the flash of a quick smirk on his face.

He only nodded to the crowd as he confidently picked up the bass guitar that was previously placed on the floor and put on the leather straps around his neck. His eyes turned back to you as you found yourself still bluntly staring at him. Something about him just enchanted you. He had that boy-next-door charm about him but also, a bad boy persona that was irresistibly enticing.

That flash of smirk that you saw earlier resurfaced and it was getting harder for you to pay attention to anyone or anything else in the room other than him. His gaze grew more intense as the noises of the crowd faded into the background. You were lost in this lethal game of eye contact until Natasha accidentally elbowed you by screaming her lungs out to respond to the lead singer’s introduction.

“Good evening, SHIELD’s Nest! How are we feeling tonight?” The lead singer vivified the crowd. They responded with a reassuring reaction. “I’m Steve Rogers and these are my buddies,” he turned his head to the left, as he started introducing the other band members. “The handsome guy right there is Sam, and in the back, there’s Clint, our brilliant drummer boy and this ladies’ charmer right here is Bucky.” As he pointed to the magnetic man who had held your attention hostage since he first walked in.

“And we are The Howling Commandos.” He paused for a second before carrying on with his prelude. “Alright, so the first song that we’re going to play tonight is called ‘Rusted Love’. Enjoy.” Steve removed his mouth from behind the microphone and started cueing the band to play. “1,2…”

Sam and Bucky started strumming the first few notes as a few people cheered. Then Clint jumped in, flaunting his talent in mastering the drum with his sticks. The energy in the room felt more energized as people started moving a part of their bodies. Then Steve amazed the room with his sultry voice, singing the words that echoed through the Sound system of the bar.

“I’m a flying kite in a hurricane, you paralyzed me with your touch and your lips got me addicted…” Steve shut his eyes, relishing the rune. You had a feeling that those lyrics wouldn’t just stay lyrics tonight…

They played another four songs that night. The crowd danced, jumped and screamed the words to their song passionately. You, on the other hand, was probably the most tranquil person in the crowd. You didn’t really know much about the band, let alone their music. So when everyone was constantly pushing you because they were too lost in the moment, you eventually tried to get out of the crowd and sat on the bar instead. Natasha was also too lost in supporting her boyfriend, that she almost didn’t notice you leaving.

Through the vibration of the crowd and the music, you had to really lean in to get Natasha’s attention and to get her to hear you. “Nat! I’m gonna sit in the back and wait there. I’m a little thirsty.” She had a giant smile on her face due to the zest the band inflicted. “Okay!” She yelled back, then carried on with her foxy moves.

You struggled to walk through the crowd, trying to not step on anyone’s feet as you made your way to the barstool. What you didn’t notice was, Bucky’s disappointed on his face when he saw you walking out on him. He noticed that you weren’t exactly as thrilled as anyone else. Although, he noticed your stolen glances as you shied away from him when he stared back. He even tried to wink at you once but you immediately looked to the floor, hiding away your blush. He swore he saw the way your cheeks reddened. Not that he wasn’t used to getting that reaction anyway…

You exhaled a breath of relief as you finally broke out of the congested mass of people. You sat on the barstool as you ordered a glass of rum and you waited as the music still reverberated robustly in your ears. You sat there as you started looking through your Instagram. Nat’s icon was the first one to appear in the row and you clicked it to see what you were expecting. She recorded a video of the band, then zoomed in to Clint, as he was ardently drumming the beat.

She put on a heart eyes and fire emoji with the text; “that’s my man!”. The next one was her and you singing along to the second song they played that night. You were able to actually mouth the words after they played the last chorus and you were a quick learner, so you memorized the repeated words easily after the third time. You scrolled through your feed a few more minutes until your order finally arrived.

“Enjoy, miss.” The waiter winked at you. He was probably in his mid-20s, he had warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. His dark hair was slicked back as you stared a little longer than you should. He was obviously attractive, but, you didn’t say anything back to him. You just smiled back in a friendly manner and uttered silenced thanks.

After sitting by yourself for about a half and an hour, like all good things, the show must come to an end. Steve Rogers concluded the show with a final thank you and goodnight as the spotlight shut down, like the drapes closing over a theatrical show. The crowd clapped and some of them started leaving, while others immediately went to the bar to quench the thirst from screaming along to volatile rock music and jumping up and down, getting lost in the tune.

Natasha patted your back as she jumped on the empty chair next to you. Thank God, she was quick on her feet, otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to get a seat. “Hey! God, I need a full shot of whiskey right now.”

“Yeah, go crazy.”

She scoffed. “Huh. As if that wasn’t crazy enough, back there.” She signalled the bartender to make an order. “So, what do you think? That was fun, right?” The cute bartender from earlier walked to her as he asked her what would she like to drink and she quickly replied.

“Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

“Pretty good? They’re damn talented. Especially the drummer back there. He totally killed it.”

“Yeah, okay, they are amazing. But you know their music isn’t my kind of music, so can’t say I really enjoyed it that much.”

“Okay, but you must’ve at least enjoyed the view, right? Don’t think I didn’t catch you and bass boy making several eye contacts back there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You took another sip of your glass to cover your embarrassment.

“Oh my God, you totally do! Look at you blushing!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! Admit it! You like Bucky, don’t you?” She playfully pushed you to tease you.

“Oh my God, shut up Nat! You’re causing a scene!” You tried to lower yourself, now that you’re able to speak in a normal volume.

“Nope, I won’t stop until you admit it. Don’t worry, y/n, Bucky’s always been a charmer, so I totally get your attraction.”

That caused a peculiar sickness in your chest. It’s not like you were falling in love with Bucky, no. You didn’t even know him enough to like him. He may be an eye-candy but if he’s really as “charming” as everyone is saying, then that means, he’s one of those dangerous fuckboys that you should avoid at all cost. Because that means, he’s probably only going to manipulate you into thinking that he really cares for you, when in reality, he only wanted to get in your pants. Nope, not gonna happen to you. You weren’t going to be a new notch in his belt.

“Well, then that means he is bad news and that gives me even more reason to feel anything but attraction toward him.”

“Oh, no, y/n, I don’t mean it like that. He’s really sweet, and he’s always been the most chill one in the group. Trust me, you’re gonna love him. Just, give him a chance first, alright? I’ve known him long enough to know that he’s into you.”

“Into me? Nat, he doesn’t even know my name.”

“He will.” She winked again, as she took a sip of her whiskey.

Not long after that, Clint appeared from behind, without Nat realizing. He surprised her by wrapping her waist from behind as he whispered into her ears; “how’s my best girl?” Nat was slightly stunned but as soon as she realized it was her boyfriend, her expression instantly turned into a joyful one. “Hi, baby!” They immediately smooched as she wrapped her arms around his neck while standing face to face now.

“Did you like the show?”

“I loved the show, you guys killed it as always. Oh, and by the way, this is y/n, my number one bestie and the best roommate anyone could ever ask for. Now you finally meet her in person!” Her excitement was genuine.

“Hi, y/n! Heard so many great things about you, but you probably can’t say the same, huh?”

“No, actually I can. Nat wouldn’t stop talking about you every night even when I’m blatantly ignoring her.” You joked.

“Well, is that right?” He looked at Nat to assess the truth on her face.

“Yep,” you carried on. “She would say you’re hot, funny and kind, and all these wonderful things. Including the ones that I’m not supposed to hear.”

They laughed. They kissed once more, as Clint stood next to her seat, ordering a drink for himself. Next to you, you could hear Nat saying, “oh, where are the boys? Are they not thirsty?”

“They’re just packing up, babe, they’re gonna join us in a few.”

“Good, ‘cause I think there’s someone y/n would like to meet.” She teasingly wiggled her eyebrows at you, as you sent her a murderous glare. Your lips silently mouthed, “what the fuck?” but Clint picked up her tone and he quickly got the message.

“Oooh, who is it? Is it Steve, Bucky, Sam? Just let me know which one you like and I’ll deliver them at your door tonight, y/n. They’re all single and ready to mingle anytime now.”

You laughed nervously. “No, no, no, no. Nat’s just saying shit.”

She turned her head to her boyfriend and shook it. “No, I’m not. She and Bucky practically eye fucked on stage.”

You instantly slapped her arm, staring deadly into her eyes. “Ouch!” She put her hand on the spot that you struck, even though it wasn’t even that hard. Classic Nat. Dramatic as always. “Nat, you can’t just–”

Before you even managed to finish your sentence, she darted her eyes to somewhere behind you as she pointed at whatever got her distracted. “Oh, here they are!” She smirked. She raised her eyebrows at you before she stood on her feet and hugged the anticipated men.

“Hey, guys! Killer show back there!” Nat started hugging Sam and he kissed her cheek, and then she moved onto Steve and the last one to join was Bucky. You muttered ‘shit’ to yourself as you pondered on how you should act. Should you act like nothing ever happened during the show between you two? Or were you going to address the elephant in the room, and just straight up flirt with him, now that he wasn’t being so closely watched anymore?

You didn’t know which would be the best option so you just took a big gulp and drank down the entire glass of Rum you had left. Maybe if you were less sober, you wouldn't excessively overthink. You weren’t even sure whether he was really staring at you or not. For all you knew, he could be staring at another beautiful girl in the crowd that was standing beside or behind you. And if you act impulsively now, this would be like that cheesy moment on Rom-Coms, where a girl waved back to the guy who she thought was waving at her but it turns out, he was actually waving at another girl who was coming from the same direction as her.

Nope, you weren’t going to be that girl.

So you just smiled and nodded along as Natasha introduced you to the rest of the boys. You didn’t want to be rude so you sat on your chair, facing them with an interested look, even though all you wanted to do was just shrink and leave this goddamn place.

“Hey guys, here’s my bomb-ass bestie slash roomie. Her name’s y/n! Isn’t she stunning?”

When Steve was about to offer his hand to you, Sam immediately inserted himself in front of you and Steve. “Well, hello, good-lookin’. Can I buy you a drink?” Sam, being the cool dude he was, he leaned back against the bar counter on his elbows as he shamelessly flirted with you.

“Nope, thank you. I just had one.”

“Oh, you look like you could use another one. Here, let me get that for you.” He cued the bartender to make an order and you instantly tried to stop him, telling him that it wasn't necessary, but it looks like the bartender was already taking his order for you.

And then, out of nowhere, Bucky suddenly stooped in like a hero. “Hey, Sam, why don’t you back off? This one’s mine, alright?” That elicited a questioning look out of you. “Mine?” He didn’t even know you.

“Oh wait, so this is the one you told us about in the dressing room?” What the hell? You thought. They were talking about you as if you weren’t there at all.

“Yep, so why don’t you fuck off and get out of here before I get myself drunk enough to shit on your bed?” His tone was menacing but you could tell that this was a normal, daily conversation between the two.

“Jeez, alright. I’mma leave. You don’t need to wave your dick all over my face.” Before Sam moved to another spot, he patted you on the back and said, “good luck.”

What? What the hell was that for? The bartender came in with your order and served another glass of Rum right in front of you.

“You don’t need to drink that if you don’t want to.” He carefully spoke to you, as if he was trying to not scare you away.

“No, I think I need to. Tonight’s been a pretty crazy night.” You took a sip, the cold drink felt nice on your tongue.

He chuckled. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Oh, how crazy can it be for you? Isn’t this like, what you do, every night?”

“Yeah, but, you never really get used to it, you know? Sometimes you just wanna sit in the bar and have a nice talk with a pretty gal and hide in the booth or something.”

That… Warmed up your heart. Damn, if this is his way of flirting, it was truly working. You could see now why everyone was calling him ‘a charmer.’ He really had a way with words. And stares. His baby blues really know how to captivate you and froze you on spot.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.” He offered his hand to shake yours.

“I’m y/n.” You shook it with a smile.

“Did you like the show?” He asked.

“Gotta be honest with you, buddy, your music isn’t exactly my kind of music. But you guys were awesome.”

He paused for a moment as if he was contemplating what he was going to say next. “Think I got a little distracted up there.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“Cause there was this pretty lady in a red dress that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.” His gaze even grew more intense now. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room. Then his eyes darted to your lips, as he licked his. And before you knew it, he started inching his face closer to yours as he held his gaze on your plump, painted lips, while you could feel his breath more and more as the seconds went by.

And then… His lips were on yours. It’s like the clock just stopped ticking and every noise faded into the background and you were the only two people in the room. His lips felt soft against yours, and the way he licked your bottom lip made your head spin. You ajarred your mouth to let his tongue enter as it got tangled with yours.

You were aware that Nat, Clint and Steve who were having a conversation are now watching you like hawks, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Bucky’s hands grabbed your face, so he could have more control over your mouth. You were practically out of breath by the time he looked into your eyes, that are now slightly darker than a few seconds ago. He loved the sight of you, with your lips slightly swollen.

“Let’s go somewhere more secluded.” You could only nod and then took his hand after he offered you his as you got off the stool. He led the way and you couldn’t help but notice the glances that were thrown by several women along the way. They were staring at him with incontrovertible full of hunger eyes, one even shamelessly put her hand on his shoulder, as she coquettishly smiled at him. Bucky only smiled back and nodded at her but he kept walking with you in his hand.

Even if you were practically a pair, you felt invisible. Everyone’s eyes were on you, but not precisely on you. This must’ve been something normal to him, you thought. You weren’t used to big crowds and inundated with attention, and you weren’t used with unquestionably holding a stranger’s hand and letting him take you wherever he had in mind. But you did anyway, and you weren’t having second thoughts.

Bucky led you to the cramped lavatory and locked the door. The lack of space made it even harder for you to breathe when Bucky was this close to you. He pressed his body to yours, as he kissed you once more. Slowly, but you felt the spell in your bones. “All I could think about on stage was tasting those luscious lips.”

You were spellbound by his magic. You could barely speak another word when his baby blue eyes were looking at you so intensely like that. But you gathered every cell in your body to utter the words anyway, “do it again, then.” You boldly challenged him.

He grinned a Cheshire cat smile. He grabbed your face again and eagerly consume you with his mouth. He then moved his hands to the back of your thighs to elevate you onto the sink. He put his hand on your thigh and the other hand went to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, while still kissing you even deeper.

He pulled away to stare at your distraught state and asked the question, “can I touch you?”

You licked your lips, as you nodded. “Please.” His mouth was on yours again, as the hand that was on your thigh moved to the bottom your dress, delicately inserted his fingers to feel you against your red lace panties. You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as he motions his fingers in circle harder.

Your breath quickened. Your mind was getting hazy as the second passes by. The right strep of your dress had fallen off of your shoulder, and Bucky utilized that opportunity to pull down the other strap and he began groping your breast, tenderly pinching your nipple. That elicited a petite yelp out of you. He groped your breast once more as he was still toying with your nipple.

He began kissing your neck, shortly finding your sensitive spot as you threw your head back. You shuddered. Your hands grabbed his hair, wanting to feel him closer. “Bu- Bucky… Please. I need to feel you.”

You didn’t wait for his response and immediately lifted up his shirt. You were stunned by the sight under the dimmed light of the bathroom. Clothes really didn’t do this man any justice. He should never be allowed to wear any coverups, ever again now that you had seen him. He was sculpted by the Gods themselves. His biceps felt robust in your dainty hands and the V-shaped line on his hips led to somewhere you really wanted to wrap your lips around.

Your hands quickly zipped down his jeans and his boxer along with it, and you didn’t hesitate in feeling his throbbing member right there, right then. It felt tremendous in your trembling hands, and you felt it getting harder with every stoke of your palm.

“Oh, fuck, doll, don’t stop.” His voice was raspy in your ears. It was the sexiest goddamn sound you had ever heard.

“Yeah, just like that. Go faster, doll.” He sucked your earlobe and his hand fisted your hair, making a mess out of it. You didn’t mind one bit. You wanted to be a mess for him and only for him. You somehow still managed to pamper him with all the senses you had left, even if your mind was clouded with every part of him.

“Bucky, put it in me. Please.” You begged with a quavering voice.

“Your wish is my command, doll.” In a second, he pushed into you and it sent an electrifying jolt all over your nerves. You threw your head back in mingled pain and pleasure. He felt even more full now that he was fully seated inside you. He lifted you from the sink and pushed you to the wall on the opposite.

You circled your arms around his neck as your back was slammed against the concrete. Then Bucky began thrusting vigorously. You shut your eyes and moaned his name. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t. He kept his eyes wide open to watch you with full attention. He loved seeing the way you were drunk in him. The way you forgot your name more and more every time he slammed back into you.

He loved the squelching noises ringing in his ears, better than the melody he was used to creating in the studio. The sound of your heartbeat was far more gratifying than the way Clint played his drum. Oh, how he could write an entire album solely about you in this state alone.

“You feel so good around me, doll. So. Fucking. Tight.” Your moans became louder with his filthy words in your ears.

“I’m gonna make you mine.” This time, his voice was sultry. It was rather beguiling than mortifying.

His hips kept moving and out of you with a vehement tempo, and then just like that, you crumbled. You screamed your pleasure, not caring if anyone could hear you. Bucky was still moving, trying to reach his own climax. Shortly, he was with you. He unleashed his cum deep inside you, adding the mess that was dripping all over your thighs.

You were a beautiful mess. And Bucky loved it.

After a few minutes, coming down from your high, you breathed into Bucky’s neck, not wanting for it to be over yet. You were a little scared that Bucky was going to walk out and pretend nothing ever happened between you. You didn’t know how many bathroom stalls Bucky had brought different women to and fucked them silly right there. You had a lot do unravel about him, yet, you weren’t certain whether he wanted to let you in or not.

“You okay?” Bucky whispered into your ear. You only nodded, still a little hazy from ecstasy.

“I’m gonna put you down now, yeah?”

“Okay.” He slowly set you on your feet, as he was still staring at your face. You leaned against the wall, trying not to collapse. Bucky picked up his shirt and put it back on along with his jeans and boxer.

“Let’s get out of here.” Bucky offered you his hand, like the gentleman that he was as if he hadn't just fucked you into oblivion in a public restroom.

You took his hand with a smile. You didn’t know what was going to happen after you walk out of the door, but you were going to savour every second of being in his arm if this was going to be last time you’ll ever see him.

You went home with a contented smile on your face. You were like a teenage girl who had just been asked to prom by her crush. How could you not, when Bucky offered to walk you home and left a kiss on your cheek before he called it a night?

Natasha was going to stay at Clint’s hotel, so you were supposed to walk home alone. You knew eventually this was going to happen but Natasha and Clint used it as a reason so Bucky and you would spend the night together too. You didn’t mind one bit, though. You wanted to elongate your time with Bucky and your wish was granted.

You offered him to come inside and stay for a little while, you were secretly hoping that you could go for the second round, but Bucky only chuckled and shook his head.

“Not tonight, doll. I ain’t that kinda man. And you need rest. But I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” Then you and Bucky exchanged your numbers and he waited until you were really gone from his sight.

You walked up to your dorm with butterflies in your stomach and sparks fly all trailing over your footsteps. Thank God, Natasha wasn’t here. If she were, she would’ve relentlessly teased you all night and made you admit that she was right to coerce you to come.

And you would’ve had to admit that she was right. And you didn’t like admitting that you were wrong.

But tonight, you were going to admit it to yourself though. Sometimes, doing something that frightens you the most would endue you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.

And you were going to thank your lucky stars tonight for embedding Natasha Romanoff in your life because, without her, you would’ve stayed in your shell and Bucky could’ve fucked someone else in that restroom instead of you.

That might’ve happened in another universe, but not tonight. Tonight it was you and you were really hoping that you were going to see him again in your dreams tonight. You had one taste of him and it wasn’t enough.

Bucky texted you not long after you took a shower.

“Dreaming of me, yet?” Wink emoji.

“Well, if I were, I wouldn’t be texting you right now, would I?”

“That’s true, but at least you’d be drenching your sheets because of me and I don’t think I have a problem with that.”

“I don’t need you to do that, maybe I can use some toys in my drawers tonight. They seem pretty bored.” Thinking emoji.

“Oh, doll, you are killing me here…” Drool emoji.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, doll. Thinking of you here.”

You turned off your phone and the screen went black. You changed into your pyjamas and washed off the remnants of your makeup and let the slumber take over you.

Bucky’s face loomed over you, somewhere in a fancy balcony, the view of the city stretching over, added to the beauty of the scenery. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and no tie. The first couple of buttons were unbuttoned, giving you a majestic picture that he was. His hands that were in his pockets, took yours as you exerted yours to him.

He leaned in with a bright smile under his stubbly face, his blue eyes sparkled like Sirius star.

“Fly with me, doll.”

“What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

523 notes · View notes

bo0zey · 3 years ago

Text

ok this is like pt2 of that longass recent post so just ignore this bc this parts even STUPIDERR

anyways imma try to work on the rough draft after showering but i know i won’t have a enough time to finish it before clinical n ik she’s gonna call me out and wtf am i gonna say?????? i hate using my mental health as an excuse bc i feel like no one cares or believes me or thinks i’m just lazy and or crazy or being manipulative but like i swear i’m not i just happened to lose control over my frontal lobe at the wrong time of the school week i’m ??????? last time i turned in my annotated bib late too n she like ripped me a new one about it n i’m afraid of disappointing authority figures bc yknow my narcissist dad would only ever acknowledge my existence and express being proud of me when i got good grades like it was all i was worth to him; A’s meant affection and B’s meant “but u could’ve gotten and A so what happened??” n everything else meant NOT GOOD ENOUGH even in high school he hounded me “haha yeah ur #2 of ur class but what abt #1 huh why aren’t u #1?? i saw both ur gpas they’re so close omg they’re like a tenth of a decimal!” n i was like lol ok it was actually like .00 something, AKA a hundredth of a decimal, and still it wasn’t enough if i don’t do what i need to do in school if i don’t get good grades then i would have never meant anything to him i was his trophy daughter only worthy of facebook posts when he felt the need to brag abt me and now that’s all really have to base my self worth upon bc i felt like that’s all he valued in me n now i don’t do nearly as well in college as i did in high school bc i think it’s bc i was traumatized for like 12yrs of schooling with him looming over me and college i could like finally be a human??? lol ok ANYWAYSS sorry for trauma dumping lol so like yeah i already felt stupid n disappointed in myself n then she was making me feel even guiltier/more useless n like i think i’d been awake for >2 days that day n probs on my period so i was probably extra prone to crying n then she had the nerve to look me in the eyes and ask if i was okay bc she saw them watering up as she continued to progressively dig into me and i fuckjgn HATE that question i fuckjing hate being asked it bc i just ?? idk maybe it’s a trigger bc every time someone asks it(typically adult authority figures i know im disappointing but can’t stop self sabotaging) i just lose all control of self regulating my emotions n my eyes start Rlly watering then dripping and she was the absolute last person i’d ever want to cry in front of so i tried so hard to stop i nodded my head and smiled so hard and wide despite the mask covering half my face because i was trying to like get my body to control itself but my eyes just kept running and i wondered how i must’ve looked to her probably insane the way i was fighting a losing battle against a mental break down n i was smiling like a fucking clown to try and make my cheeks reach my eyes so it looked real so she could see it behind the mask and look past my watering eyes and the more tears that fell the harder i made myself smile and laugh all the while THE TEARS WOULD NOT STOP like i probably looked like a fuckjng raging mentally ill maniac to her esp when i pointed at my mask and was like “yes i’m fine i’m smiling underneath the mask i promise heheheh^.^” n giggled and then cried intermittently through the last 2 hours of clinical then silently on the car ride home bc i had to drive my roommate back w me n then as soon as i passed the door threshold i just broke down for literally NO FUCKJGN REASON??????????? like full on waterfall n my roommate turned n glanced at me n was like omg what happened what’s wrong??? MY NEXT 2 LEAST FAVKRJTE QUESTIKNS so obv i went from silent crying choking down sobs to total blubbering sobbing incontrollable inconsolable mess n it was so embarrassing bc i already burdened n traumatized her w my mental breakdown last august sooooo yeah that sucked lol n obviously what i was crying abt sounded so stupid i don’t even know why i would breakdown over something so stupid i’m so weak it’s honestly embarrassing lmfaooooomsbxbd🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

#god i am so fuckjgn annoying i cry abt the stupidest things i’m the worst kind of person i’m so selfish!!!!!!#i can’t stop self sabotaging bc in my core ik my worth as a human and my value of a life is so low at the nadir #i bring it all on myself tho i know that ok so i don’t need y’all being like ‘u did it to urself’ I LITERALLY KNOW THST OKKKKKKKK #im manic and have no filter just an influx of autopiloted thoughts #shut up cianna

2 notes · View notes

sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy One

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

January 10th, 1997

Remy was looking at the test his latest table-mate had given him and he frowned. “What’s so bad about it?” he asked.

“It’s a ninety seven!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, so? I barely got a seventy two,” Remy said with a shrug. “It’s okay to not get everything perfect, or even close to perfect. All that matters is that you pass.”

“Figures you’d see it that way,” she scoffed. “You don’t care about grades at all. Do you even know where you’re going to college?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, Cindy,” Remy said. “I’m fifteen. I don’t have to care yet.”

She scoffed again and stormed off as the bell rang and Remy rolled his eyes. Another potential friendship avoided. Good. He had been worried he wouldn’t be able to shake this one. And perfectionists rubbed him a very particular wrong way that was not pleasant.

September 5th, 2002

Remy was working in the kitchen when Emile came up from behind him for a hug. “Hey, love,” Emile said.

“Mm, hi, mio amore,” Remy said. “Decided you’re finally ready for lunch?”

“Yeah. I was just doing some drawing earlier to fulfill the art class requirement I’ve been putting off, but the drawings are done for now. I just want to eat,” Emile said with a laugh.

“What were you drawing?” Remy asked.

“You,” Emile said. “Like, it wasn’t realistic figure drawings because I wasn’t looking at you, but I was working in different cartoon styles, and I figured I may as well draw one of the people I know best.”

Remy turned a slight red even as he continued to work. “Do I get to see these drawings eventually?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Emile said. “So long as you don’t tell me that my imitations of my favorite cartoon styles suck.”

“I would never say that,” Remy said. “You’re a pretty good drawer, actually. Maybe not make-a-living-off-it good, but definitely a your-art-shows-lots-of-care good.”

“Really?” Emile asked, and he looked surprised.

Remy paused in his work and faced Emile fully. “Yeah, Emile. You’re really good at art.” Emile frowned, and Remy mirrored the action. “Is there any reason that you wouldn’t think that?” Had he just found one of Emile’s insecurities?

“I mean, I guess not, it’s just...” Emile shrugged. “There’s a lot of things wrong with it. It’s like when I get a question wrong on a test. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t fix it.”

Remy squinted and walked past Emile, to the card table, where his sketchbook was still open. “Emile, your drawings look fine.”

“Fine, sure. But they’re not exactly good,” Emile said, walking over and pointing. “See, the eyes are slightly off compared to the She-Ra style, and in the Looney Tunes style I can’t get the hands and the fingers properly. And these are just the sketches I’m okay with other people seeing.”

Remy stared at Emile, then at the drawings, then Emile. “Emile, I’m not a cartoon expert like you are, but I know enough about art style differences from comics to understand this was just done by a different artist. It’s not wrong, it’s just a slight difference, like what can happen when more than one animator works on a project. The difference is that in animation, the frames go by so fast that it’s usually imperceptible.”

“No, it’s not the same style if it doesn’t look exactly the same. Otherwise it’s just an imitation,” Emile said.

“Okay...correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were just going for an imitation,” Remy said.

“I mean, yeah, but I realized how close I was and wanted it to be in the genuine style...and I couldn’t get it,” Emile mumbled the last part, turning away.

“What do you mean, honey? You definitely got it right,” Remy said.

“But I didn’t,” Emile argued.

Remy blinked. “Okay, maybe it’s not perfect, but—”

“—See?! You just said yourself that I didn’t get it!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy paused. Took a breath. Let it out slowly. “That’s not what I said,” he said calmly. Forcing away the irritation at being interrupted and the annoyance that Emile was apparently not listening to him. “I said you didn’t have it perfect. Not having it perfect doesn’t mean you don’t have it.”

“Yes it does!” Emile exclaimed with a huff.

The irritation faded away and was replaced with a blooming bud of concern. “No, it doesn’t, Emile...why would you think that?”

Emile laughed incredulously. “Do you really not know?”

“No,” Remy said. “I really don’t.”

“When I was in kindergarten the first time around, I was ‘the stupid one.’ I know you’ve heard this before, but listen. When it clicked and I finally knew how to read, I went to the top of my class in just about everything. Suddenly, school was impossibly easy. And everything I did was just considered perfect, perfect, perfect. That’s all it could be, that’s all it can be. I’m not allowed to fail. Because if I fail, then I’m just that stupid five-year-old who couldn’t even spell his own name. And suddenly everyone starts questioning me, saying they thought I was smart, I was supposed to understand this, and isn’t it easy? Why am I struggling?! I just need to push through until I understand, but I’m not even allowed to ask for help, because oh, that’s just for the stupid kids, Emile, and you’re not stupid! If something isn’t perfect, then it’s a problem. And I’m not supposed to have any more problems. Not after that.”

Remy didn’t know what to say. “Christ, Emile,” he breathed. “That’s terrible.”

Emile laughed and shook his head. “Not particularly,” he said, even as he was starting to cry. “Just the burden of being the smart kid, I guess. You have to keep up the appearance even if you have no idea what you’re doing. Because otherwise all the teachers see is that dumb kid who couldn’t tell the difference between an ‘o’ and a ‘v.’”

“I thought only your teen years were traumatic, but Christ. That’s just...I don’t have any words. I was never really ‘the smart kid,’ I never had to deal with that, but...wow, so many things make sense now,” Remy said. He shook his head. “Not the point, not the point. Okay. Emile, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen to me when I say it, okay?”

Emile took off his glasses, wiping away his tears, and he nodded. “I’m listening.”

Remy grabbed Emile’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. “You have my explicit permission to fail.”

“You...what?” Emile asked.

“You have my permission to fail. Okay? If you don’t get everything perfect, you’re not stupid in my eyes. If your graduating GPA is three point nine, I won’t focus on the one class you got a ‘B’ in. I’ll focus on the fact that all your other classes you aced with all ‘A’s! That’s freaking amazing! I would never be able to do that! If you get one thing wrong, if you ‘fail’ in your eyes, that’s okay. No one can be perfect all the time. It’s okay to need help. It’s not just for people who are struggling. This operates on the same principles as therapy. Therapy is not just for people who are drowning in their own emotions, it’s also to teach those people how to swim, or to find a boat. The same is true if you have to ask a professor a question, or enlist the skills of a tutor. You’re not stupid for doing those things, you’re learning more so you don’t make the same mistakes in the future.” Remy kissed Emile. “You’re not stupid, Emile, and you never have been stupid. ‘Stupid’ as a concept is just...well, it’s stupid. It makes no sense. And getting one or two questions wrong on a test doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means you got all the other questions right, and you get to learn from those mistakes.”

Emile blinked. “What if I get all the questions wrong?” he asked, voice small.

“You’re still not stupid. You just need to stress less and maybe study harder next time. But I doubt that would happen, okay? You’re Emile freaking Thomas, and you can do anything you set your mind to. Don’t sell yourself short,” Remy said, giving Emile a crooked grin at the end.

Emile slowly removed Remy’s hands from his face and stared at the floor. “Honey, I appreciate the sentiment, but...I can’t just stop this. I’ve been doing it for fifteen years.”

“I know you can’t just stop it at will, honey, that’s not what I’m asking of you,” Remy said. “I’m asking you to go a little easier on yourself. You don’t have to be perfect. If you get everything right, more power to you, but beat yourself up a little less if you make a mistake. If you do nothing else, at least remind yourself that you have my permission to fail? That no one will hate you or think that you’re stupid if you mess up?”

“I...” Emile trailed off, actually considering Remy’s words, which Remy counted as a win. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Emile said, not looking Remy in the eye, but his tone sounded hopeful. “It would be nice to not feel like everything has to be perfect, I think.”

“You’ll either find it incredibly liberating or incredibly terrifying, I think. Possibly both,” Remy said drily.

Emile snorted. “I’m willing to bet you’re right,” he said with a nod. “I’ve never really considered what it would be like to be allowed to fail. Even when we moved out of the college dorms, I didn’t think about the possibility of failing and not managing our money correctly, because failure just wasn’t an option. And I guess it saved us issues with rent and food and the like, but I’m willing to bet it did a number on my mental health too. Just a hunch.”

Remy laughed. “Honey, you’ve worked yourself sick before because you’re so focused on helping friends and going to work and keeping that perfect GPA. I know for a fact that it’s done a number on you not only mentally, but physically.”

“Okay, I see your point,” Emile said with a slightly sheepish smile. “That was me going a little overboard.”

“More than a little,” Remy said with a snort. “That in and of itself was a bit of a failure. Failure to take care of yourself.”

Emile went oddly quiet, before he softly went, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Remy asked.

“I have failed in the past, then,” Emile said. “And you didn’t change how you treated me. I mean, you might have called me stupid for pushing myself too far and getting myself sick, but you didn’t...treat me like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“That’s because you do know what you’re doing,” Remy said. “Making one or two mistakes, or outright failing doesn’t mean you don’t know anything. It means you might need things explained to you in a different way, or just explained period, but you know way more than most people, Emile. I would argue you’re smarter than most twenty one year olds I’ve met. At least, academically. Street smarts are another story.”

“Look, that was one time I got lost on the way home from McDonald’s!” Emile defended. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have street smarts!”

Remy burst out laughing. “No, that means that you have no sense of direction, and no street smarts.”

“This coming from the guy who purposefully picked a fight with a guy who was buddies with linebackers from the football team,” Emile snorted. “That’s not exactly prime ‘street smarts’ either, mister.”

“Okay, okay, so we’re both dumbasses coming to street smarts! I still know more than you on that front!” Remy exclaimed.

“Oh, you wish!” Emile declared, “I’d bet actual money that I have more street smarts than you.”

“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Remy said with a wicked grin. “But fine. If you’re so certain, let’s get an impartial party to determine this. Next time we see Bernie, we’ll ask him. But be prepared to lose whatever money you’re betting!”

“We have joint bank accounts in all but name anyway,” Emile said with a shrug. “We regularly buy stuff for each other. What difference does it make if that money is in my account or yours?”

“You have a point,” Remy hummed. “Okay. How about we bet food? If you win, we get the stuff to bake cupcakes. If I win, we get the stuff for brownies. And the loser has to help bake the sweets that we’ll be eating for the next two weeks or so.”

“Oh, you are so on!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy grinned. Emile was hopefully going to go a little easier on himself, and Remy was going to get to eat brownies next week! This was great!

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

7 notes · View notes

chasingthepoguelife · 4 years ago

Text

Lonely Boys Do Stupid Things Part 2

Lonely boys do stupid things Part 2

(gif credits to @rafecameron)

Summary: Rafe is tired of an already boring summer, constantly being judged by everyone on the island, and is looking for a challenge. When the group is introduced to the new girl hanging out with Kiara, Topper suggests a challenge and Rafe accepts only to be conflicted along the way.

Author’s: So in this world Rafe is still a bad guy, just not a “I killed a cop and have all these daddy issues” bad, Topper hasn’t developed yet, and also John B hasn’t dragged anyone into his stupid shit and there is a civil ground between kooks and pogues and Ward isn’t a “I love two out my three children and murdered my friend” dad. For reference, I do not support Rafe’s canon character. I’m just blinded by the attraction I feel for him and I love Drew, but will never condone or excuse Rafe’s actions. Also, I’m not writing y/n with many descriptions. I know all types of people might read this and I want to make everyone feel included but I also don’t want to do it the wrong way so I’m leaving a lot of physical features up to the reader’s imagination. I would also accept tips and constructive criticism to be more of an inclusive writer.

Warning: For part 2 I don’t think there is anything, just a mention of underwear and little yelling from Rafe.

For reference, Rafe is 19, y/n just turned 18 and she’s figuring out her college plans for the upcoming year.

Tag List: @nxsmss @prejudic3 @spencereidbasis @alexandracheers @ifilwtmfc @billybonesxx

“So you’re telling me out of all those guys I met today, you don’t have a thing for a single one of them?” y/n asked.

“Dating here is complicated y/n,” Kie began. “Everyone is so focused on money and status, it’s hard to find anyone real. I used to think John B and I would end up together, but that ended sooner than it began. I kissed Topper one time in the ninth grade, and it was like what I imagine kissing your cousin is like.”

“And what about Rafe?” y/n questioned.

“y/n, no. I know that tone. He may look perfect on the outside, and he may seem like he could give a girl everything she wants but there’s a whole lot of issues and drama that he comes with. Ask around. There’s not 1 girl here he hasn’t screwed over or put in danger. The boy only has feelings and compassion for himself.”

“I always believe that people can change, but if it’s coming from you, I believe that you’re just looking out for me Kie.”

“I promise when you ease more into the island, I have two other guy friends that not only look as good as Rafe, but they won’t drag you down with all their problems.”

“Alright Kie, if I’m not making out with someone soon, it’s really on you if I go looking for Rafe.” Y/n teased.

2 Days Later

“How much you want to bet Kiara already bashed you in front of y/n?” Topper asked.

“She can talk all the shit she wants. I saw the way y/n was staring at me. Guarantee she will be dreaming about me tonight,” Rafe smirked.

“But do you think you’ll even get the chance to talk to her? There’s no way Kie is going to let this happen.”

“Kie can’t be with her 24/7. Lucky for me their houses are 20 minutes apart, and thanks to good old dad and his real estate connections, I already know where she lives.”

“Where are you going man?”

“To put her address in my gps,” Rafe yelled running away.

The ride to the Marigold neighborhood felt like a lifetime to Rafe. He had only ever been here one time as a kid, and even that was a distant memory. It didn’t seem much different than figure eight, except for the fact that he couldn’t even fit his driveway onto some of these properties. To his surprise when the gps said he arrived, he was in front of the last house on the street, probably the largest house he’d seen in the entire neighborhood. One might say that he was a little impressed, but back to being small minded after questioning if all 3 cars in the driveway belong to the family. Rafe parked his car in front of the house, locking it once he got out. Within seconds, he was at y/n’s front door, noting how short the walk is in comparison to his own home. He knocked on the door, waiting for what seemed like forever until the door opened. An older woman resembling y/n answered the door.

“Can I help you son?”

“I’m looking for y/n, did I come to right house?” Rafe asked for effect, knowing very well he was at the right house.

“I wasn’t aware my y/n had made so many friends here already. She should be around somewhere in between all these boxes. Y/n!, please come downstairs,” her mother yelled.

Rafe waited in an awkward silence until he heard foot steps coming down. To say he was looking at a different person was understatement, and had y/n known someone like Rafe was in her living room, well she would be coming down with more than a tshirt and underwear.

Y/n stood there, arms crossed, glaring at her mother. “Really? Couldn’t have bothered to mention that someone else was here?” y/n said grabbing a convenient pair of her dad’s sweatpants on the nearest carboard box.

“In all honesty I didn’t think you’d be putting on a show,” her mother joked.

“What are you doing here Rafe, how did you even know which house we bought?” y/n asked.

“I’m sure Kiara told you, but I have a lot of resources available to me,” Rafe smirked.

“Doesn’t make it any less weird, I’ve met you two days ago.”

“Y/N! Don’t be rude,” her mother said slapping her arm. “You’ve already made one more friend than I have.”

“May I use your restroom?” Rafe asked.

As y/n refused to moved, her mother came back momentarily from showing Rafe where to go.

“10/10 daughter,’ y/n’s mom spoke like she was talking to her best friend.

“Just because he has a nice face and body doesn’t make him a 10 mom, besides, I’ve heard some bad things about him, especially from Kiara,” y/n shared.

Rafe couldn’t help but hear everything from the bathroom. He had needed a moment to cool down after already seeing her half naked after two days, but chose to stay extra to hear more compliments about himself. Topper could’ve at least made this harder by picking a girl he wasn’t physically attracted to.

“Kiara is a lovely girl, but she’s just one person. Sometimes you need to give people the benefit of the doubt “ y/n’s mom said.

Rafe was relieved how much y/n’s mom was on his side, at this point he’d even date her mom just to add some difficulty to this challenge. He was about to join them again in the living room when he heard a louder noise come from the back of the house. A few seconds later, a louder, deeper voice began calling for y/n and her mother.

“Lovely to see two more Marigold residents in these parts,” the older man said.

“Ugh it doesn’t matter where we go you two are such dorks!”

“You should be so luck to find someone half as good as your father young lady.”

Rafe couldn’t help but barf. Relationships make him sick as he’s never a real one in his life, nor did he ever have a good example of one. The only one he could ever consider is the nauseating relationship between his sister and John B. He decided was going to wait for her father to leave the room. He could not handle anymore jokes.

As her mom left the room to her and her dad, y/n had a feeling a hard conversation was coming.

“How about an update on school kiddo?”

“There’s not much to tell dad, I’m still figuring things out,” y/n shrugged.

“Well maybe had you taken 7 APs instead of 4, you would’ve impressed the schools more.”

4 Aps Rafe thought? He could barley get through 1 and this guy was complaining about not taking 7?

“What does it matter dad, I got A’s in all classes. That’s 4 GPA boosters and 4 college credits. Between that a year off to save, I won’t be needing much from you and mom, you know, after all you’ve done for me,” y/n explained.

“After 18 I didn’t see my father and mother for 5 years until I got a stable job. I didn’t go back to them until I could stand on my own two feet without needing anything from them.”

“The world is different now, and you’re acting like I’m never going to do anything on my own.”

“Well you know kid; you have to rustle up something good by next year or we’re going to have to teach you the hard way. Anyways, you know what you have to do. Tell your mother I’m headed down to the Wreck for some work things. See you later pumpkin.”

Rafe thought his dad was messed up, how could this guy insult and support his kid with every other sentence? He waited until it seemed like it was just y/n out there before coming back.

“Finally, I thought you fell in the toilet or something?” y/n joked, but Rafe could tell she was half joking, half compensating for her father putting her down, something Rafe knows all too well.

“I don’t need to explain to you my bathroom habits,” Rafe joked,

“No, but what you need to explain to me is why after two days you think it’s ok to just show up uninvited, without getting the address from me?”

“So you’re saying there’s a problem?” Rafe teased.

“Let’s see, I met you two days ago, you show up unannounced, intruding, and I know nothing about you except for all the bad things-“ y/n shut her mouth once she realized what she was saying.

“Go on, finish what you were saying. All the bad things…. that Kiara told you? Rafe questioned.

“Well what am I supposed to think, you’re not off to the best start. And I’m supposed to believe that after spending like 5 minutes with me, you just have to get to know me, or let me guess, you can’t stop thinking about me?” y/n said sarcastically.

“You haven’t even given me a chance yet,” Rafe stated.

“Rafe, we both know you’re cute, but I can’t take this on right now. I had hoped to meet someone after moving here, but this is already screaming red flag to me. You should just go.”

“You should know, that just because you’re not a pogue, doesn’t mean you’re worth anything on this island!” Rafe spat before storming out the front door.

Rafe made his way back to the car, in disbelief that he didn’t get anywhere with y/n. Kiara must have told her countless stories to turn her off. Not that there weren’t enough known incidences about Rafe, but everyone deserves another chance. Considering Rafe believes he was sculpted by the gods and can’t remember the last time he’s ever been rejected; he’s still confused as to why he couldn’t make it work on y/n.

After Rafe left to head back to Figure Eight, y/n went on her own drive to Kie’s house, letting her know she’d be there soon. When she arrived, Kie was on the steps of her house, watching y/n’s face.

“It’s only been 2 days, what have you done now?” Kie questioned.

“This island is like a lifetime movie! I met the guy two days ago and he just shows up to my house in his fancy car sweet talking my mother!!”

“Rafe? What that makes no sense? We would’ve heard something by now if he was interested in you. That’s how he likes to move,” Kie noted.

“Apparently not, he just blitzed me, and caught in my underwear I may add.”

“So then what happened?”

“Don’t get me wrong I thought about. He seems perfect and really hot, as you know. But I keep replaying everything you told me about him, and that’s not something to ignore. He said you were lying about it all and that I should find out for myself. But my gut told me to not go down that road.”

“He’ll get over it y/n, even more so when he sees you on the arm of my friend JJ.”

“Kie you are not already trying to set me up with another outer banks man!”

“Did you not say you were looking to make out with someone soon?” Kie teased.

“Well after Rafe insulted me for not giving him a choice, I might need to reconsider.”

#rafe cameron #kiara carrera #kie carrera #Outer Banks #obx #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #topper thornton

46 notes · View notes

luvdsc · 4 years ago

Note

hi miss cat!! I was just wondering if there’s any advice you would give to a high school freshman/rising sophomore?? sorry I know I’m a bit young to be interacting on your blog but I’m just,,, so lost.

my freshman year ends on May 28 and I just realised how fast this year flew by, and I’m never even gonna get it back…

I didn’t get off my ass and run for an officer position in the clubs I’m in even though the opportunity presented itself many times and I can’t stop beating myself up over it (metaphorically that is)

the only thing unique I did this year was run for student council and um that didn’t work out too well HSDMGFK no surprise there

but on a more serious note I just don’t really have the motivation to do anything right now and this is gonna sound really funny but it’s giving me such a hard time even though it’s self imposed ://

I don’t know why I can’t find motivation to be involved at school

maybe I would be more active if I knew what I want to major in or be in the future?? I used to want to be a biochem major but then I realised I wouldn’t be happy with that lifestyle or salary and now I really wanna major in business but I also feel pressured to major in econs because my dad is an econs major and my brother will be entering college as an econs major this fall so like ;;;;

thankfully my family wasn’t as affected as other families or people during lockdown because I fortunately live in Singapore and the lockdown was a bit less than two months, and the situation here was taken care of quite well. some of my relatives live in Seoul and I also have some relatives emigrated to Washington DC way before the pandemic so I was a bit worried but they seem to be doing fine!! which is again why I don’t understand my slump

because I was in a slump I had shitty grades and ended semester one with such a shitty GPA and such terrible grades that I literally didn’t qualify for APUSH next year which idk if I wanna take or not but still, it would’ve been nice to have the option…. and I literally got a b in biology which is so fucking terrifying because if I had done worse I wouldn’t have even qualified to take AP bio or chem

I mean I am putting effort but not enough for me to get better grades than I do right now so I genuinely feel so lost :// I’ve no idea what to do after high school and my grades aren’t good no matter how hard I try :// like, I’m not even kidding I have tutors for my hardest classes but I’m still not;;; getting good grades…

I honestly feel the urge to start cultivating hobbies that I stopped doing but idk if i should.. like I could spend that time studying, you know?? I’m scared that the rest of my high school career will fly by just like my freshman year did and I won’t even notice it… and my finals are literally in 2 weeks….

and as I’m typing this I realise I have a Chinese test tomorrow and another Chinese test next Tuesday so ummm I gotta go study sorry about all that rambling!! I just don’t have anyone else to tell sorry if this burdened you!!

miss cat if you have any advice to offer I would really really appreciate it!! also I’ve sent like 2 other tells rambling about your fics and idk what to feel rn cuz a few weeks ago I was crying about p*ssy blocked on your blog and now I’m sitting here pouring my heart out:;; but anyways thank you for reading!!❤️

- 🥰

hi, sweetpea 💕 oh gosh, it’s been... almost 8 years since i was a rising sophomore asjhdflkasflkhsakl i feel so old rip and it’s ok, you don’t have to apologize! my blog is sfw, so it’s alright, lovebug :’) i’m gonna give my two cents / advice in regards to each part of your message, instead of my usual numbering, so i hope that’s ok! 💓

i’m sorry to hear that this past school year has been tough for you, honey bee, and that you’re having a hard time ): i know what you mean with motivation... some days, i just don’t wanna try anymore and it’s just like... what’s the point? i worked this hard and didn’t get the results i wanted, so why am i still doing this? it’s disappointing, i know, but i suppose the thing that pushes me forward is that, well, it has to get better at some point, doesn’t it? if i keep going, if i keep pushing myself, if i keep trying, my efforts will be rewarded one day. one day, it’ll all be worth it, honey bee 💛

and while you regret not running for a club position this year and how your freshman year went, make sure to not regret it next year and go for it during your sophomore year, lovebug!! run for a position!!! you’re still so young, and you have so much time ahead of you, sweetpea. enjoy the moment, spend time with your friends, join more clubs that interest you, etc. you got this 🥳 please don’t end up regretting next year as well - become more involved next year and run for an officer position like you wanted to this year 💘 i believe in you, lovebug 🌷🌷

and running for student council was a big step! you should be proud of yourself for trying and putting yourself out there, honey bee 💗 even though it didn’t work out in the way you hoped, you gained experience, and that’s important too!

also, heck yeah for majoring in business, sweetpea 🤩🤩 as a double business major, i support you :’) askljdhfkals ngl econs was my least favorite business class though, so big props to your dad and brother for majoring in it 🤧 i felt that pressure too because my dad and sister both majored in engineering, but in the end of the day, you have to remember that this is your future and your happiness, not anybody else’s. choose what you want to do, honey bee. this isn’t your dad’s choice nor your brother’s choice, it’s your choice. they’re not the one that’s gonna have to study all your classes and do your job in the future. it’s you, and i know it’s hard, but you have to block out what everyone else says and choose what’s best for you.

if you aren’t sure what you want to study, is it possible to take classes for different majors? perhaps, that’ll help you decide! or you can talk to upperclassmen who are in the majors that interest you, and you can see which one appeals to you the most 💕

i’m so glad to hear that the situation there for you is going well though, lovebug! 💛 and i’m happy that your family and relatives are doing well too 💞 sometimes, slumps just happen, honey bee unfortunately ): it’s like i don’t want to feel this way, i’m in a decent place in my life, but why do i feel this way? it has to do with mental health, and my best advice would be to talk to a therapist or psychiatrist. they truly are really helpful and can help you understand better why you feel this way and help you reach a better state of mind.

i’m sorry to hear your grades didn’t end up as what you expected, lovebug ): (and as someone who took apush, it is not fun rip i do not recommend aksjhdflkas you dodged a bullet there) but as a positive way of looking at it, what class can you now take instead of apush? is there another class that you’re excited to take? and a B is still good!!! forget the what if scenario, you still made it to AP bio and AP chem, and that’s what matters, and i’m proud of you, honey bee 💖

personally, i think there’s a healthy balance between cultivating hobbies you like and studying. i don’t think you would want to look back on your sophomore year and have all your memories be of you sitting at your desk and memorizing ionic bonds and plant cell organelles. yes, it’s important to study, but it is also important to have fun and have hobbies that help you destress and relax and make good memories 💗so i’d say go for it, lovebug!!! indulge in your hobbies and find something you love doing! maybe that’ll inspire you to find a major in a similar subject?

best of luck on your upcoming chinese test, honey bee, and i hope your last one on tuesday went well 💜 aaaa i kinda put my advice here and there throughout my response, and i hope it all makes sense for you, sweetpea :’) also omg alksjdhlfakshjdf thank you so much for sending in asks about pussy blocked and for reading it, too 🥺💗💗💗 that means so soo much to me, so thank you, lovebug 💛 i hope life treats you kinder, and that you’re doing better this week! i’m sending you all my love, support, and well wishes, honey bee 💌💌 (also that’s such a cute emoji anon !!! 🥰🥰)

#asks #anonymous #🥰 anon

2 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

The mistakes we're going to make (Jan/Jackie) - Meggie

A/N: Hey all! I had the pleasure of writing this little gem for Molly for our gc’s gift exchange. I really enjoy writing this dynamic, and I hope you all enjoy it too! Thank you to Mac, Mia, and Alex for prereading for me. Y'all are the real MVPs.

Summary: when i look at you, all i can see are the mistakes we’re going to make (the future’s so bright)

They’re graduating high school tomorrow night, but all Jan can think about is her calculus final and whether or not she can scrape by with an A.

She’s done the calculations approximately 47 times (and had Jackie check them over nine more because Jan’s shit at math now apparently), and she knows she has to make an 82 on the final to pull an A in the class. And that will get her an 89.5 which rounds to an A. She’d rather not cut it that close, thank you very much.

To anyone else, a B would not be the end of the world, but it would be Jan’s only B. Ever. To get out of high school with a perfect GPA, an unblemished transcript, a perfect record… That’s been her goal ever since she graced the hallways of R.P. Charles High School three years ago.

So after finishing Ms. West’s history final, she pulls out her calc book and dutifully studies her notes. They’re meticulous, her rounded penmanship in stark black ink. She purses her lips and wonders if she has enough time to redo them in colored ink according to her color-coding system.

Behind her, Brita mutters to herself and furiously erases a sentence in her essay. Written responses have always been her downfall. To Jan’s right, Gigi takes a mirror out of her purse and retouches her lipstick.

“Why are you studying?” Gigi whispers. “You literally just finished a test, and it’s a half day. We’re done after this.”

“Yeah, but my calc test is tomorrow, and Ms. Hytes is not as lenient a grader as Ms. West.” Jan sighs and runs a hand through her hair.

Gigi pulls a face. “God, why’d you even take calc? You didn’t need the credit.” Gigi had taken personal health instead of a math class. She said their final was about sexually transmitted infections, which apparently is the new name for sexually transmitted diseases.

Jan shrugs. “I wanted to be—”

“—valedictorian, yeah, I know,” Gigi finishes. “Well, anyway. That didn’t work out the way you planned, did it?”

At the front of the room, Ms. West clears her throat and widens her eyes at the girls. Gigi sits back in her desk and primly folds her hands. Jan is free to once again study her notes, but Gigi’s last words still sting.

She had only taken calculus because it was an AP class, guaranteed to get her extra GPA points she would need to wrap up the valedictory. What she hadn’t counted on was being terrible at calculus.

Sure, geometry hadn’t been a walk in the park, but trig had been a piece of cake. So she figured that with a little bit of extra studying, she could carve out an A and stake her claim on the title of valedictorian, something she’d wanted ever since she had learned what the valedictorian was. (Kindergarten. When her parents had taken her to see her cousin graduate. And the pretty girl at the front had gotten up to make a speech in front of all her classmates, and everyone had to pay attention to her for a whole ten minutes while she talked about things that were important to her. Jan wanted that.)

But in March after third quarter grades were calculated and the honors had been announced, she’d ended up salutatorian, literally two hundredths of a point behind Jackie Cox. It had been a two-man race between her and Jackie all throughout high school, but the difference had been that damn calculus class. Jackie had an A; Jan had a B.

Jan’s parents had doted on her just the same as they would have if she’d been valedictorian, taking her to dinner at her favorite restaurant, celebrating with cake and sparkling grape juice out of the champagne flutes usually reserved for New Year’s Eve, but Jan couldn’t help but sense a little tinge of disappointment behind their smiles. Close, but no cigar. She’d still give a speech, but it would be shorter, and no one really cared what the salutatorian had to say. She’d worked so hard for four years to achieve the top honor and now she had to stand back and watch someone else deliver her valedictory.

Even if that someone was her very close friend.

There’s a certain closeness that develops between students when you take all the same classes for four years, and Jackie Cox had been in all of Jan’s classes since freshman year. By design, their schedules had ended up being very similar. It helped that they were into the same extracurricular activities as well. They were both athletic, both involved in student government and the debate team. They even both participated in the spring musicals: Jan onstage in a lead role, Jackie backstage as part of the tech crew.

But as their friendship grew so did their rivalry, at least on Jan’s part. She’d always seen Jackie as a reminder that she had to work harder to be her best. With Jackie, everything always seemed so effortless. Her poise, her perfection, even the way she spoke and carried herself. Jan felt like she herself was constantly obsessing over everything she thought and said. When she looked at Jackie, she felt like the other girl just had a natural ease about her.

She’d tried for years to be more like Jackie. But the feeling grew especially deep after they’d received their first calculus quizzes in October and Jan’s was emblazoned with a fat, red D. Jackie’s, on the other hand, sported an A.

Ms. Hytes had asked Jan to stay behind after class so she could encourage her to either drop the class or consider hiring a tutor.

Failure was absolutely out of the question. So Jan asked for help. She asked Jackie for help.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for Jackie, she wouldn’t be pulling a B in calculus. Not at all. In fact, she probably would have failed out at semester.

So now that there’s this final that she has to prepare for, there’s only one person she trusts to help her study for it.

Jan catches Jackie in the hallway (their lockers are nowhere close because that’s the way life—and the alphabet—works, but Jan is good at getting what she wants), and asks her if she feels ready for the final tomorrow.

Jackie sighs, the exhalation blowing the dark curtain of hair off her forehead. “I mean, I think. I might look over my notes again tonight. You feel good about it?”

Jan laughs, high-pitched, a tell-tale sign of her anxiety. She hates that she wears her emotions like an oversized sweater. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I’m here.”

So anyway, that’s how they end up on Jan’s bedroom floor, calculus books open in their laps, a plate of chocolate chip cookies and glasses of Dr Pepper set aside because Jackie is a Professional when it comes to this whole studying thing.

(That’s probably why she’s the valedictorian and you’re not, a hateful, nasty voice whispers in the back of Jan’s head. Because she’s dedicated to studying and you’re worried about whether or not she likes your cookies.)

She won’t think about the fact that for the past six months, she’s also been concerned about whether or not Jackie likes her.

It’s not exactly something she’s prepared to deal with.

Jan’s dated before, of course, but they’ve always been boys. And now, all of a sudden and by some act of whatever god exists, she finds herself having a massive crush on Jackie.

So she’s bisexual. It’s fine. She’s had years to deal with this, and she’s always kind of wondered.

Honestly, she’s chalking it up to academic jealousy.

Jan just wants to be like her, that’s all. It has nothing to do with the way her long, dark hair cascades in waves down her back, or the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs, or the way Jackie had caught her backstage right before opening night of Carousel and grasped her hands and told her to break a leg and knock them dead and basically be the best Carrie anyone had ever seen before kissing her cheek.

Except it totally does.

“So to compute the three-by-three you have to multiply A by the two-by-two determinant of the matrix,” Jackie says, marking something in her notebook. “Now, how do I get that?”

“Huh?” Jan asks stupidly, brought back from her reverie by the question. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just…” She scrubs her hands down her face then immediately regrets it because her eyeliner is now definitely smeared. “I’m out of it.”

Jackie nods and presses her lips together. She breathes in quickly like she’s going to say something, but changes her mind at the last minute. She taps her pencil on her notebook.

“Sorry I’m wasting your time,” Jan says sheepishly. “You can go if you want…”

“No!” Jackie says quickly. “No, it’s not that. I just… I’m just wondering…” She sighs. “Things have been kind of weird between us ever since spring break… Since the honors were announced, and I just…” She shrugs. “I guess I just want to know if you like, hate me for being valedictorian over you.”

Jan gasps. “I could never hate you.” She hadn’t known that her disappointment was quite so palpable. Then she decides that Jackie deserves to know the absolute truth. “I was disappointed. My parents expect a lot out of me, and they… They’ve been pushing for this since, like, forever. I just didn’t want to let them down.”

Jackie’s eyes widen. “Salutatorian is letting them down?”

Jan shakes her head. “You don’t know my parents.”

“No. But I think I kind of understand. ” Jackie closes her book and pulls her knees into her chest. “You know my parents immigrated from Iran, right? So like, the American dream? That’s all they want for me. And that includes college. A good one.” She laughs. “My mom wants me to be a doctor.”

“What do you want to be?” Jan asks quietly.

Jackie’s quiet for a moment before she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone’s actually asked me that before. Isn’t that wild? I’m 18, and I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

Jan shrugs. “We’re 18. I don’t think we’re supposed to know what we want to do with the rest of our lives.”

“I know one thing I want to do, though,” Jackie says, smiling. “When I get to college, I’m going to kiss a girl. I’ve always wanted to. I mean, I know I’m gay so like. That’ll be nice.”

“You can’t do that here?”

“Are you kidding?” She scoffs. “My mother would kill me. And that’s before my dad finds out.”

Jan shrugs. “You could kiss me. If you wanted.” Her cheeks fill with color. She’s never this brash, this forward. But the opportunity had presented itself and she’d taken it. “I mean, or not. Whatever. It’s fine—”

“Jan.” Jackie’s looking at her, dark eyes narrowed as her hand creeps up to cup her chin gently, and Jan has just enough time to gasp in a shock of air before their lips meet softly, tenderly, slowly meshing together. Kissing Jackie is so much better than kissing any of the boys she’s ever dated before.

Jackie pulls away far before Jan wants her to, and she’s left wanting more. She shudders a sigh and opens her eyes slowly.

“Wow,” she says.

“Yeah,” Jackie replies, brushing the hair off her shoulders. “That was… Umm. We should probably study, though.”

“Right. Of course.” Jan blushes again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Distract you.”

“Jan…” Jackie’s hand falls softly over her knee. “We can kiss more when we get through matrix determinants, okay?”

Jan isn’t sure what it is, but something about this new teaching method suddenly makes perfect sense.

She makes a 93 on her final and finishes the semester with an A.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #jackie cox #jankie #high school au #lesbian au #meggie #submission #s12

48 notes · View notes

dalekofchaos · 5 years ago

Text

My problems with LIS:BTS

I love Before the Storm, but I do have some problems with the game in relation to the first game. Here I will explain the problems i had with BTS and why I think Deck Nine did not understand the characters. This is very long, if anyone has the time to read it all, I’d like you to finish to the end!

1. Continuity issues

Rachel’s parents. I always got the feeling Rachel’s parents were neglectful, which REALLY showed when Chloe said they are in denial that Rachel is missing. Rachel having neglectful parents and Chloe having an abusive stepfather and abuse enabling mother, would show just why Rachel and Chloe wants to leave Arcadia Bay. What happens in BTS? Rachel has kind and loving parents and a bio mom that is a horrible representation of drug addiction(everything about how D9 wrote Sera sends a horrible message, wtf D9?) and all of sudden James just pretends that Rachel isn’t missing? The fuck? Also, Rachel’s parents are not called James or Rose. Rachel’s student information we see in Episode 3 about her parents is not readable, but he Initial letters of the names written within the Parent(s) field on Rachel’s file do not appear to match the names James or Rose (or even Sera)

Rachel’s address. Rachel’s Blackwell Student Information Sheet shows Rachel’s home address. Rachel Amber has an address of “6 Sa(?)u/n(?)tle Road, Arcadia Bay, Oregon”. There is a piece of paper covering the Home Address field, but we can make out a “gon” from the end of “Oregon”, so we know it is within the state. As her address in the top-right corner is different to what appears to be the dormitory address on the other student files, we can assume that “6 Sa(?)u/n(?)tle Road” is implying her home address (just like on Chloe’s file). However, in Before the Storm, her home address is 2420 Blackfriars Road, Arcadia Bay, Oregon.

My friend/one of my Amberprice favs @thelittle-scribbler‘s idea of Rachel’s parents makes more sense. “the idea I had of Rachel is that she was a relocated student from Cali from a very problematic absent family who didn’t give a fuck about her, coz well they gave up looking for her! And if her dad was the city da, he would have never gave up on the search and also, he would have known about her being involved with drug dealers. Unless he got his ass fired after hiring those guys to kill his ex wife lol”

Chloe’s blue hair. In Episode 3 of Before the Storm, Chloe is shown dyeing her hair blue for the very first time. However, we know that in Life is Strange, Chloe had been dyeing her hair with a blue streak on or before her 16th birthday (two months before Before the Storm takes place). indicating that Chloe had already been using blue dye in her hair by the time of her 16th birthday. It would have made more sense if we had seen Chloe with a blue streak in Before the Storm Episode 1.

Max’s contact of Chloe. "You were happy to wait five years without a call, or even a text.“ In Before the Storm’s Episode 1, "Awake,” Chloe’s phone clearly shows that Max has been texting her during her time in Seattle and had even initiated text messaging after admitting to being “bad about emailing”. Max has texted Chloe on the following dates in November 2009: 2nd, 13th, and 28th. Max was supposed to have not emailed, called or text Chloe ever since she left for Seattle, it should end in 9/28/2008, but it began again a year later.

Joyce and David’s relationship. In Before the Storm, David and Joyce are currently unmarried and had started dating not that long before the game’s events that are set in May 2010 (Chloe is 16 years old at this time). David is also about to move in to the Price household, which is seen happening by Episode 3. But in Life is Strange, a chronological timestreammontage shows that Joyce and David were already married before Chloe’s 16th birthday. A picture of a married Joyce and David appears prior to an image of Chloe on her 16th birthday in this timestream montage

The Blackwell problem. Victoria Chase’s sole reason for being at Blackwell is Mark Jefferson. Jeffershit is not in BTS. Victoria is introduced as a sophomore at Blackwell Academy in Before the Storm and wants to be in theater for…reasons, but the age for Victoria in the first game suggests she should be a freshman in BTS. Warren is a Blackwell student at age 13. Max is said to be a sophmore with Chloe in her own school in Seattle at the time, but problem there is Max turned 14 in 2009 after the September 1st cutoff date. This means that she wouldn’t be starting high school until September the following year (fall 2010). The normal age requirement to start high school as a freshman is age 14 (i.e. turning 14 before the September 1st cutoff). It is currently unknown why Max has advanced two grades in 2010. She has a 2.8 GPA on her 2013 student information sheet, which suggests she is a low B / C / high D student (not an exemplary student). Her GPA is also said to fluctuate and she acknowledged in 2013 that she should be doing better. and there’s the fact that Chloe is in Blackwell with some of the characters in the first game and dialogue (or text messages) between these characters seems to suggest that she did not know them as fellow students or even classmates prior to the original game’s events. For example, Stella is in Chloe’s class photo, problem with that is that Stella doesn’t even know who Chloe is, she just refers to her as “some girl” Warren. Warren does not know who Chloe is at the beginning of Episode 2, yet in BTS class photo he is seen with Chloe. Other dialogue gives the impression that Warren does not know Chloe beforehand. For example, the text messages Max receives from Warren in Episode 4 if she kissed Chloe/but declined Warren’s invitation to the drive-in or didn’t kiss Chloe/ but accepted Warren’s invitation. There is no mention of the fact he knows Chloe from when she was going to Blackwell, her complete change of appearance, or that he’s surprised that Max knows her too! There are also a couple of points in Life is Strange where, if Warren knew Chloe from the past, he would have likely opened a dialogue with her about that it’s good to see her again or even asking how life is outside Blackwell. Not even Chloe seems to recognize Warren, as she refers to him simply as “your friend” to Max. Justin. When Max encounters Justin at the Blackwell Campus in the first episode of Life is Strange, “Chrysalis”, she has the option to talk with him about Rachel and “her punk friend”, as Max does not yet know the identity of the blue-haired punk girl that she had saved in the bathroom earlier. "I can’t remember her name… But she was hot. Tats. Blue hair. Hardcore. She stopped hanging out with us after Rachel disappeared… or ran away.“ As we see in Life is Strange, Justin refers to Chloe in a very vague way as Rachel’s "punk friend” and as though he only knows her second-hand through Rachel. Yet the Before the Storm prequel game puts Justin in the same Blackwell student photograph as Chloe (standing directly in front of her), furthermore implying they are in the same classes. He would have had frequent contact with Chloe as a classmate of just that handful of students. Also in Before the Storm, Chloe interacts with Justin at Blackwell and they seem very familiar with each other. Justin refers to her as both “Chlo-ee” and “Price”, so he definitely knows both her first name and surname. They also are texting with each other in Before the Storm. Then again, they ARE friendly with each other in episode 4, Justin not remembering who she is in episode 1 might be the case of him being blazed and just narratively teasing Max of the girl she saved. Nathan. In Life is Strange Episode 1’s Cliff chapter, Max will ask Chloe about Nathan. Chloe will tell Max:“I met him in some shithole bar that didn’t card me. He was too rich for the place and too wasted. And he kept flashing bills…” in Before The Storm, Chloe knows Nathan from Blackwell. but the way she describes her predicament to Max sounds like she is describing her first impressions from the first time she ever met or had one-to-one dealings with him (i.e. no previous encounters before that).

Chloe is left handed in the first game and right handed in BTS. Yes she does use her left in some points, but Chloe’s dominant hand in the first game is her left hand. Throughout BTS, Chloe smokes and drinks with her right hand, lights the Amber House candles with her right hand and even writes graffiti with her right hand. In the first game Chloe smokes and drinks with her left hand and lockpicks with her left hand. DONTNOD confirmed she was left handed. I am just baffled by this decision. The only time I remember Chloe using her left hand as her dominant hand in BTS is when she burns evidence for Damon.

Chloe is expelled in 2011 in the first game. Chloe is expelled in 2010 for BTS. Max looks at a report card in Chloe’s bedroom which shows that Chloe was still attending Blackwell Academy up until the end of her junior year, which was in May 2011. BTS gives us the choice to defend Rachel and get expelled or suspended if you don’t. There is also no mention by the Principal of a recent suspension for “spray-painting graffiti in the parking lot” as was clearly mentioned on her school file in his office in Life is Strange, nor any mention of the “police reports.” Although the suspension is temporary and she is to be hopefully reinstated in the fall to start her junior year on condition of her good behavior, the suspension was not over graffiti. Being expelled in 2010 completely contradicts the circumstances of the original game, and the suspension (although being the least non-canon consequence) is over the wrong reasons. Even if Chloe was suspended, it is not unreasonable to believe that she would be expelled anyway over the extensive graffiti she left in the bathroom.

Chloe being good at chemistry. It is never stated in her report card in the first game if she were ever good at chemistry. Chloe comes off as someone who doesn’t care about getting grades, hell Chloe seems only interested in the Arts class as shown in her report card. A friend pointed out to me it kind of feels like “BtS took away a lot from Warren, as if it were a "competition" "Warren is good at chemistry" and so the BtS crew thought "Let's make Chloe good at chemistry too!" Another point is also that Warren has green as his personal color, and in Farewell Chloe he wears a green shirt. Chloe in episode 1 uses Warren's phrase "Power". I don't know, I felt like they took things from Warren to give to Chloe, and that really pissed me off.”

Chloe knows about Pompidou’s name despite not knowing the pupper’s name in the first game. Also "The only way you know my dog’s name is if you broke into my RV.“ Why would he say that if he told Chloe Pompidou’s name?

Frank was just a drug dealer to Chloe and who she and Rachel hung out with in the past. Now Frank kills someone to protect Chloe. Chloe and Frank are not friends.

2. The first LIS game told a different story for Chloe and Rachel’s relationship

Chloe’s “Rachel was my angel” comment showed a lot to how Chloe loved Rachel and how much she meant to her. Chloe tells Max that Rachel entered her life when was at her absolute lowest and that it was she who helped her deal with the grief of having lost her father but the entire game is centered around Chloe being the one who is supporting Rachel as she deals with a serious family drama of her own. What Before The Storm should have been. Rachel helping lift Chloe through the worse point of her life. If Rachel had stopped Chloe from committing suicide… as was the commonly believed interpretation to what happened between Chloe and Rachel up until BtS, then Chloe’s ”“she was my angel” would have meant it was truly special and real. But instead they bump into each other at an illegal concert and Rachel distracted some thug who works for Damon and we spend the game finding out who Sera is in a reveal we all saw it coming and only to have Rachel taken out of the third episode where Rachel never talks to her and makes the whole thing feel pointless. What the game should have been was Chloe and Rachel together having fun rocking out, becoming girlfriends and Chloe starting to live again and show that Chloe Price loves Rachel Amber and Rachel loves Chloe.

3. Deck Nine did not understand Chloe.

I don’t feel that Deck Nine did Chloe justice. The writers attempt to evoke empathy with Chloe feeling grief which is done via exactly one emotion- which is a very childish understanding of how loss and coping works. She had no character arc, considering she was the exact same character that we already knew in LiS Episode 1 (A bitter disaffected teenage youth with no regard for authority) so we didn’t get to see Chloe evolve into the character we loved in the first game. She just already was it. The gameplay undid the narrative we were given about Chloe being a loner in that you can talk to and make friends with pretty much anybody and they all acted like they liked and were genuinely happy to see Chloe. Very rarely were there interactions with Blackwell students that ended with Chloe’s presence not being welcomed, only Wells, Victoria and Nathan showed contempt for Chloe(even with Nathan that goes away when he claps for her at the play) The reason this is done is because the game wouldn’t be fun if Chloe actually was a loner. The core mechanic of Life is Strange is being able to talk to people and experiment with your surroundings. A game where nobody wanted to talk to Chloe works against the core mechanic. But in making her the main character it undoes the weight of the narrative of Chloe being alone until Rachel/Max. I just strongly feel that Deck Nine did not understand Chloe as a character and did not do her justice. We should’ve gotten Chloe at her lowest, evolving from Max’s best friend to the character we know in the first game and Rachel helping lift Chloe through the worse point of her life. Chloe and Rachel together having fun rocking out and Chloe starting to live again and show that Chloe Price loves Rachel Amber and Rachel loves Chloe. Chloe losing Rachel and showing how Chloe has to deal with Rachel missing, how she became in debt to Frank and how she got involved with Nathan and how Chloe ends up in the bathroom.

4. There is no plot...until the last minute

The biggest problem I have with BTS is there is absolutely no plot. In the first game we absolutely KNEW what the plot was. There was a storm, a missing person/serial killer and all of our friends have problems that Max has to help them with. In Before The Storm....there really is nothing. We go to a concert and because we ruined an asshole’s shirt, we were threatened and saved because Rachel was there. Then the rest of episode 1 spends on spending time with Rachel. Same with episode 2. They only gave the plot at the last minute cause Deck Nine probably went “oh shit, we just realized we don’t have a fucking plot” then we spend the majority of the game trying to get the identity of the woman Rachel’s scumbag father was seen kissing. Turns out the girl is Rachel’s biological mother! James and Sera's story doesn’t make any sense. He still loves her, gives her a final goodbye kiss and then orders some drug dealer to kill her because she was a drug addict?! Damon was hired to kill Sera and protect Rachel, but stabs her instead?! He wants Sera to die because she was a former addict....despite Sera wanting to be clean and Sera doesn’t want her to ruin Rachel’s life???? What kind of fucking message is that to send to people struggling with addiction??? They dropped the fact that Sera was supposed to have powers and it was passed down to Rachel and that Rachel is the storm. Hell, Rachel was taken out of the final episode 90% of the fucking episode. Damon was a lazy thrown at the last minute villain. The first game shows you what’s at stake right away, with Before The Storm there’s no clear danger, conflict or mystery. We only get it halfway through the second episode and even then it’s a bad mystery and conflict and if it takes that long to add conflict or mystery, then I really think they failed the game. The best parts about the game are Amberprice, episode 2, Steph, Mikey & Drew and Samantha. But that’s kind of it. Before The Storm was kind of a disappointment.

5. Forced to give David a chance

Deck Nine doesn’t understand that Chloe does not have a good relationship with David, or even Joyce. Deck Nine forces us to be nice to David and every time we choose to pick the most Chloe like choice we are punished. The game outright makes us look like jerks for being true to Chloe’s character regarding David. Deck Nine screwed up everything when it came to Chloe and David. Before even meeting David in episode 1, Chloe’s only complaint is he calls her “girly” that...that’s it? The only thing I felt they got right was his comment about “vacation from not having a father figure” and saying he’ll show what a stable home is like. The way he said that he can FINALLY show Chloe what a stabilized home looks like…..like she didn’t have a stable home when her father was alive. That really got under my skin. But let me explain, Deck Nine did not understand Chloe’s relationship with David and did their best to villainize Chloe for not giving him a chance. I do not want to feel bad for David. Stop trying to make us feel bad for this abusive piece of shit and make Chloe out to be the villain for not giving this asshole a chance. He emotionally, mentally and physically abuses her and joyce normalizes it, violates her privacy, installs cameras in the house without her or Joyce’s knowledge cause he will not trust her and Rachel, David makes Chloe feel like a prisoner in her own home. David getting a job at Blackwell makes her want to get expelled, whenever he is around she does not feel safe. He makes her so afraid that she feels like she’s living with a Nazi. They are not meant to have a good relationship. As for Joyce. The fandom likes to paint Joyce as this great mother to Chloe, and she was when William was alive but she chose her own happiness and interests over the safety and well being of her own daughter. Joyce enabled an abusive stepfather and ignored her daughter being hit and verbally abused (and there is a word for that: culpability. Joyce is guilty of child abuse. If we do not back up Chloe in episode 1 and we tell Joyce David hit Chloe, Joyce just brushes it off like it’s not a big deal…and this is who the fandom perceives as a good mother? What Deck Nine should have done is have it open with it stated that Joyce and David are married. Chloe’s life is a living hell. David does not understand nor does he care about Chloe’s depression and grief for losing William and Max moving away. Show that David physically, mentally and emotionally abuses her. Joyce normalizes it like saying “you keep pushing him, what did you think was gonna happen” you might think that’s out of character for Joyce, but she put her own interests over the safety and stability of her own child. Joyce didn’t want to be alone anymore, so she settled down with the first guy that came her way. The abuse is normalized in their household and Chloe’s definitely internalized it. Keep in David’s comment about “vacation from not having a father figure” David violates her trust and feelings and boundaries and bosses her around and calling her a loser who has no friends and burdens her mother. Show why Chloe is terrified of him to the point where she labels him a Nazi and to the point she feels like he will kill her if he finds Max in her room, so make a hint that David starts to put surveillance around the house because of his unwillingness to trust Chloe and Rachel. Chloe and David do not have a good relationship and fuck Deck Nine for making us feel bad and look bad for not giving David a chance. Fuck you.

6. The choices D9 made with Nathan make no sense.

I already explained why Nathan being in Blackwell with Chloe doesn’t make any sense, but the choices Deck 9 did with Nathan doesn’t explain anything about the character he would become in the first LIS. If Nathan had to be in the game, I don’t think Samantha should’ve been in the game. Nathan’s social circle is Rachel, Victoria and Hayden. There is no missing persons posters in Arcadia Bay aside from Rachel. Samantha being the first Dark Room victim does not hold up. And that’s the problem, we don’t get to see Nathan being friendly with Rachel, Victoria or Hayden. We see him being bullied by Drew North. Wouldn’t it make much more sense for Nathan and Victoria to be bullying Drew and Mikey and Chloe and Steph defending them and Nathan and Victoria trying to get Chloe expelled for that? Okay if what they were trying to do was a timid Nathan who slowly gets to become the king of Blackwell who was being mentally and emotionally abused by Sean and Jefferson, it did not work. We never see Nathan with his friends. We never see Nathan with Rachel aside from one picture. We do not get to see Nathan and Hayden. Nathan and Victoria are as close as brother and sister, we never get to see that and I think that’s where BTS failed Nathan. Hell, if they were to keep Nathan’s character as it were in BTS, I think Chloe and Nathan should have been friends. I cannot find the video because the person who made it deleted their YouTube account, but a few years ago when BTS was first out, someone made a video suggesting that Chloe and Nathan could’ve been friends in Blackwell. The video was SO convincing that I was so on board with the idea and Samantha pointing out how similar they are. If Hell Is Empty wasn’t a bad episode, maybe they could’ve gave Chloe and Nathan a chance to talk. depending on our choices it could go good or bad. If it goes bad, then they remain on bad terms. But if they are on good terms depending on our choices, you are given a choice to choose to become friends with Nathan. They bond over their similar music taste, their mutual love for Rachel and find common ground with everyone expecting the worst out of them and their abusive father/stepfather. And Nathan could thank Chloe for stepping up for him. And they share a smoke together. I think Chloe and Nathan being friends before their lives goes on a downward spiral and hits rockbottom would’ve been nice and sure as hell would’ve been better than giving Chloe, Stalky McFuckboy as a “friend” instead

7. Deck Nine does not understand Rachel Amber

I don’t feel that Deck Nine understands Rachel Amber as a character or understands what made the fanbase love her from the first game. Rachel is a character shrouded in mystery. The vibe I got from Chloe indicates that Rachel Amber saved her at her lowest and made her feel like she could live again. I also got the vibe that Rachel had neglectful parents who cared very little of her and Rachel was tired of the pressures of being little ms perfect and the bullying she suffers at Blackwell. So Chloe and Rachel wanted to be free from Arcadia Bay. Chloe wanted to be free of an abusive step-father and her mother who allows the abuse to go on and Rachel wanted to be free from everything at Arcadia Bay. Started a knew life as a model in LA. It was their Santa Monica Dream. The characterization of Rachel Amber in BTS just feels like D9 does not understand Rachel. Rachel Amber is meant to be a morally grey character. There are hints that she wasn’t this perfect angel Chloe thought she was and then backed away from that perspective out of fear fans would be angry at their depiction of Rachel. Rachel Amber who I knew in the first game was just not there. She had no interesting perspective or enlightenment to offer to Chloe or be the positive force to Chloe or even showed why she was this mysterious chameleon who fit in so perfectly with everyone who was adored by everyone. She was just a pretty looking character model with a great voice actress that would sometimes say very wistful, wide-eyed things. She would also quote boring poetry. Rachel in BTS has no aspiration to be a model and instead of Rachel helping Chloe deal with her grief, the game makes it about Chloe helping Rachel with her family drama. We never get to see Rachel meet Joyce(Joyce in LIS makes it seem like her and Rachel got along) we never get to see Rachel defending Chloe from David or Rachel as this ambiguous character. She’s portrayed as this character that must be protected at all costs, like she’s neither ambiguous nor does she have any agency. It is perfectly okay to show her drift away from Chloe. Yes they were in love and had this great relationship and they loved each other. It’s important to see and know the people we romanticize are not who we thought they were. Rachel was looking for a way out of Arcadia Bay. She first thought both her and Chloe can escape to LA together. But over time she did not think that was possible anymore. Chloe dodges her car payments and her family is in debt and Chloe is in debt to Frank. She still wants to leave with Chloe, but Rachel needed an alternative way so she and Chloe can escape. So Rachel turned to Frank, she used him for her drugs because as time goes on, Rachel turns to drugs to numb the pain. She parties with The Vortex Club and as Nathan said “Rachel partied like a fiend on her own.” Hell, she was so desperate to leave Arcadia Bay she even asked the trucker to take her to LA. Then, Rachel meets Mark Jefferson. Rachel saw him as her way to LA. She wanted to have her pictures modeled by a professional, which he was, but Rachel never saw him for what he was. A sheep in wolf’s clothing, a monster. He saw her as the perfect subject. A human chameleon with many visual possibilities and he felt they had a connection. Manipulating her into believing that he is the father figure that James never was for her. Rachel wrote a letter to Chloe in the shack but discarded it. She feels that he changed her life but the discarded letter shows that she felt ashamed about the whole relationship. Her shame indicates that she was apart of the Dark Room. At first she just saw it as a big photography project outside of school, but then Rachel started to look into Jefferson’s past models and figured out something was wrong. In Jefferson’s own words “Not like Rachel, who was always looking in the wrong places. Poor Rachel.” Jefferson of course finds out because The Dark Room is under 24 hours surveillance. So out of fear of Rachel telling everyone, Jefferson kills Rachel, doses Nathan and poses Nathan’s unconscious body with Rachel’s lifeless body. The vibe I got from the first game is that Rachel and Chloe have this very important and special bond. But Rachel just wanted to be free of Arcadia Bay by any means necessary. Rachel would go far to get what she wanted. Someone who is willing to lie to the people she cared about to satisfy her own needs and goals. Personally, I see Rachel as being okay with manipulating everybody BUT Chloe, which gives everybody a foothold to try and gaslight Chloe and Max about her, trying to get them to doubt that Rachel genuinely cared about Chloe. Rachel wanted a way out and she thought she had her way out, but in the end she played with fire and got burned.

8. The last episode

It was lazily thrown together. The actual GOOD aspects were cut altogether. Rachel does not dye Chloe’s hair. Chloe and Rachel do not work on the truck together. Rachel does not stand up for Chloe against David. Rachel and Chloe do not kick Eliot’s fuckboy ass. Rachel has to be taken care of instead of Chloe and Rachel working together to save Sera. All the good Amberprice stuff is in the montages. Hell Is Empty was a huge disappointment.

9. Unlike Max, Chloe has no agency in defeating the villain of the game.

The difference between LIS and BTS is the player has a hand in defeating their villains, while in BTS, we do not. Max Caulfield who was tied up and was about to be killed, guides David in defeating and capturing her abuser and villain of her story Mark Jefferson. Max is instrumental in defeating the villain of her story. Chloe Price is knocked unconscious and saved for doing nothing while Frank kills Damon Merrick off screen. Chloe is not instrumental or has any agency in leading to the defeat of the villain(the rushed villain at the last second) of her story

10. Farewell.

While Farewell is cute and tragic to play, it ultimately does not make any sense. If this is the same day as Max’s last moment with William and before Joyce comes home to tell Chloe the news of William, WHY are Max and Chloe in different outfits? Wouldn’t it make more sense for this to be Max’s last day in Arcadia Bay instead of the last day of William? I feel this especially cause in the BTS Graffiti side of the notebook, it is shown that there is one final episode under episode 3, I kind of feel like this was meant for Farewell and it was meant to be Max’s Farewell, but something changed. It also kind of comes off as wanting the player to hate Max for not staying to say goodbye. What I would prefer is this takes place on Max’s last day in Arcadia Bay and despite William’s accident, Chloe wants to do her best to make sure her best friend gets the best damn send off before her farewell. And Max and Chloe part on good terms instead of Max’s asshole father preventing Max from saying goodbye lol

#Life Is Strange #Amberprice #Life Is Strange Before The Storm #Chloe Price #Rachel Amber #Max Caulfield #Victoria Chase #Nathan Prescott

54 notes · View notes

whumphoarder · 5 years ago

Text

D is for Diploma

Summary: Between all of his commitments, Peter’s grades start slipping, putting him in danger of losing his academic scholarship to Midtown. Stressed and guilt-ridden about the effect this will have on May’s finances, he ends up worrying himself sick and having a breakdown in Tony’s lab.

Word count: 3,759

Genre: emotional hurt/comfort, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thanks so much to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta reading and encouragement <3

Link to read on Ao3

“But how are you getting a C in gym class?” Ned balks at his friend. He’s peering over Peter’s shoulder as he scrolls through his quarterly grades on the school library computer. “Everyone gets an A. I’m getting an A. All you gotta do is show up and at least look like you’re trying and boom, automatic A.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, remember after the Rhino dude attacked me, how I had all those bruises that didn’t heal right away?”

“Yeah...” Ned recalls, frowning. “But you said they didn’t hurt.”

“They didn’t! Not really, anyway,” Peter says quickly. “But like, I didn’t really want everyone to see that, so I kinda didn’t change into my uniform. And apparently if you don’t change, Wilson just marks you as absent.”

“Ah.” Ned gives him a sympathetic wince. “Yeah, that’s lame.”

“What I don’t understand,” MJ pipes up, glancing up from the book she’s had her nose in all afternoon, “is the D in Spanish. Rodríguez isn’t even a hard teacher.”

Peter’s face flushes with embarrassment. “So… I might have forgotten to submit a couple assignments.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You forgot? He reminds us what’s due, like, three times every class period.”

“I mean, it was just the take-home quiz...” he mumbles. “And some of the homework sheets. Oh, and that cultural essay thing about the ancient Mayans.”

“Peter.” She blinks at him. “That was like, twenty percent of our grade.”

“Well, to be fair, I did have a concussion,” he defends. “It was a little hard to remember stuff that week.”

Ned rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, that makes it so much better.”

Peter huffs out a laugh. Honestly, between all the hours he’s been logging lately as Spider-Man, his frequent internship nights with Tony in the lab, the increasingly demanding decathlon practice schedule as their team moves toward regionals, and the weekend shifts he’s started picking up at Delmar’s (because, let’s face it, the vigilante life isn’t the most lucrative career path—the occasional free churro notwithstanding), Peter thinks he’s been doing quite well juggling everything. Sure, his grades aren’t quite the neat row of A’s and the occasional B he’s grown accustomed to throughout his school career, but it’s not like he’s failing anything.

“I’ve just got different priorities now,” Peter says with a shrug. “I still show up and I’m passing all my classes, so what does the grade matter?”

MJ returns the shrug, looking vaguely impressed with him. “It doesn’t really. I’ve always been morally opposed to using arbitrary numerical values as a measure of academic success.” She shifts her gaze back to her novel before adding, offhandedly, “But you gotta admit, the tuition break is nice.”

And in those nine little words, she might as well have punched him in the gut.

“Oh shit,” Peter breathes out. Hurriedly, he starts gathering books together and getting to his feet.

“What?” Ned asks, looking puzzled.

“Um, I gotta go,” he blurts. And then before anyone can say another word, he’s out of the library doors.

The Parkers aren’t poor, exactly.

May works full-time at her job as a neonatal nurse, besides picking up extra shifts one or two nights a month to give them a bit of cushion. Between her wages and the social security checks that come every month from Ben’s pension, the two of them get by. Sure, Peter might not have name-brand clothes or the coolest tech or even a pair of gym shoes without a bit of duct tape on the soles, but there’s always been food on the table and a roof over his head, so Peter’s never stressed that much about their financial situation.

Maybe that’s how he managed to completely forget about his academic scholarship.

He’s qualified for it ever since he passed Midtown’s entrance exams in the top tenth percentile back in eighth grade. The money is substantial—slightly over two-thirds of the tuition cost is paid for him—and the scholarship automatically renews every semester provided he maintains a grade point average of 3.3 or higher, which has never been a problem for him.

That is, up until now. Factoring in his B in history, the C’s in gym and trig, and his D in Spanish, his GPA is currently sitting at 2.9.

Peter is going to lose his scholarship.

With less than two weeks left before finals, Peter starts cramming in all the studying he can manage. He stays up late, pouring over his trigonometry notes, trying to work his way through all the practice problems he’s been slacking on. He makes a point of showing up three minutes early to gym class every day, even if he has to use a bit of his enhanced speed to get all the way there from the chem labs on the other side of the building. On the train, he quizzes himself on the names of historical figures and the dates of battles long-since fought. Some of his teachers are willing to work with him, letting him turn in late assignments for partial credit or giving him additional projects to complete.

And then there’s Spanish.

“Isn’t there some kind of extra credit project I can do?” Peter begs. “Anything?”

It’s his study hall period and he’s at Señor Rodríguez’s desk for the second day in a row, desperately hoping for anything that could give his grade the boost it needs.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” his teacher says, sounding genuinely regretful. “But you’ve had countless opportunities this semester to get your grade up via homework and test retakes, all of which you neglected to take advantage of. Coming to me with less than ten days left in the semester requesting make up work for assignments worth significant percentages of your grade is simply too little, too late.”

“But… I had a concussion that week,” Peter argues. “Like, right when it was all due. And I would have done the work before, but…” He trails off, unable to finish his sentence without explaining his unorthodox extracurriculars. “I...I was busy,” he concludes weakly.

Rodríguez raises an eyebrow a little skeptically. “I didn’t receive any notes from the nurse’s office about this concussion.”

Peter glances down to his feet. “Well, that’s because she didn’t know, exactly…”

No one did—not even May. After getting all those bruises the week before, Peter didn’t want anyone to know he was hurt again so soon. Apparently Karen hadn’t deemed the blow to the head he took severe enough to override his wishes. He’d just dealt with the headaches and brain fog the best he could and sort of floated through that week on his own. In hindsight, maybe not his best plan.

“Well, I guess this is a good life lesson for you then, Peter,” Rodríguez says. His voice is firm, but not unkind. “Part of growing up is taking responsibility and learning to communicate with authority figures before you get into trouble.”

“Right, and I get that,” Peter babbles, “I just—”

His teacher holds up a finger, quieting him. “My job is to train my students for success in the real world, and sometimes that means reminding you that actions have consequences. ¿Lo entiendes?”

And Peter finds himself nodding. Because, despite the pool of dread growing in his gut, he does understand. He wants to be mad, wants to say it’s unfair and the universe gave him a raw deal and he doesn’t deserve this. But he can’t. Rodríguez is right.

And Peter’s still fucked.

By the time Friday rolls around, Peter’s barely functioning. Besides all the extra assignments and studying for finals, he’s had three days in a row of Decathlon practices, followed by some particularly eventful evening patrols that all went quite a bit later than his usual curfew of ten p.m.

He can’t get much of his lunch down today, which does nothing to appease his friends’ concerned looks. The food seems tasteless in his mouth and he’s so tired he nearly nods off into his cafeteria chicken nuggets.

When school finally lets out, he’s surprised and a little disheartened to see the sleek black car waiting for him in the bus circle. He’d totally forgotten it was an internship weekend.

Figures.

Peter groans as he disconnects the circuits he just switched out. He’s been trying to fix a bug in his suit’s heater upgrade for the last twenty minutes now, but nothing he attempts is working and his head is throbbing so much that his vision is hazy.

“Just try again, kid,” Tony encourages absently from across the workshop. He’s not looking up, fully engrossed as he is in his own project. “You got this.”

“Yeah...” Peter mutters under his breath. Blinking a few times, he rubs a hand at his eyes to try to clear his vision.

He connects a different wire. That one doesn’t yield any better results, so he unplugs it and tries again. Then again. Then again. He’s fairly sure he’s already tried the next combination, but he’s so tired he can’t remember so he does it again just to be sure. Nothing.

Peter is so frustrated now that his hands are actually shaking. He pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again.

This time, the wire sparks at him.

“I can’t do this!” Peter exclaims, shoving the suit away from him across the table. “I can’t do anything! Why am I so fucking stupid?!”

He’s breathing heavily now, tears clouding his vision even further. Within a few seconds he feels Tony’s hand rest heavily on his shoulder. It should be comforting, but it only makes Peter feel pathetic.

“C’mon, just take a deep breath and—”

“No!” Peter blurts, shaking away from Tony’s grip. “That’s not going to fix anything! I can’t fix this—don’t you see?!”

Stepping backwards, Tony holds his hands up in front of his chest, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “Okay…” he says carefully. “I think you might need a break.”

Tears prick at Peter’s eyes and he instantly regrets snapping at his mentor. “No, no, I didn’t mean that! I’m s-sorry, ’m fine…” he says. It would probably sound a lot more convincing if his breath would stop hitching.

Tony lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no, I’m pulling rank here,” he declares. “It’s break time.”

“No!” Peter protests. His hands fumble back on the table for the wires. “I gotta finish it! It’s so close, it’s just—” He cuts himself off as the images of the suit swim before his eyes, his head throbbing. “I, I need to finish…” he concludes lamely.

“Peter, just stop,” Tony says with an exasperated sigh. “You’re no good like this.”

Somehow, those words are the catalyst. Peter feels every emotion he’s been bottling up for the past week erupt inside of him. His breath hitches and his head pulses. “I, I know I’m not,” he manages to say, “but that’s why I gotta… gotta finish, then maybe—”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony breathes out. “That’s not what I meant at all. I was just saying—”

Peter cuts him off. “No, I… I know…” Tears are sliding down Peter’s cheeks now. He runs a hand through his hair, shoulders shaking. “’M sorry.”

Tony’s eyes are a mixture of concern and confusion. “Whoa, hey, what’s going on here?” Tugging the edge of his sleeve over his thumb, Tony uses it to wipe a few of the tears off his cheeks. “Talk to me.”

Honestly, Peter doesn’t even know where to begin. The frustration of his current project, the lack of sleep, his grades, the scholarship…

“I just… I-I have a headache.”

Peter doesn’t know why he says it—the pressure in his skull doesn’t even rank very high on his list of concerns at the moment, yet the simple physicality of it somehow makes it the easiest thing to admit. He rubs the back of his hand at his eyes, but his vision is still so blurry. “Can’t really see straight…”

Tony’s brows knit together. “Is it a migraine?”

“N-No,” Peter says between choked sobs. “Or... I don’t know, I don’t th-think so?” Despite never having had a migraine, he’s pretty sure that’s not what this is. The pain isn’t anything exceptional—it’s just that he can’t seem to stop crying and he’s so fucking tired.

“Either way, I think you’ll feel better once you’ve got a couple painkillers in you,” Tony reasons. “C’mon, let’s get you sorted out.”

Peter shakes his head in weak protest. “No, ’s’okay... “

“Nope,” Tony says, his voice a little more firm. “Trust me on this, you don’t want to work in a lab right now. It’s bright, and loud, and honestly, you’re a bit of a safety hazard at the moment.”

To Peter’s horror, a fresh wave of emotion comes over him and he finds himself properly crying now, his frame wracking with each sob.

“Okay, okay, alright…” Tony murmurs, and Peter feels a hand awkwardly patting him on the back.

It’s all so idiotic, Peter decides, standing in Tony’s lab, crying over things that are completely his own fault and a headache that isn’t even that bad.

“You’re okay, kid,” Tony whispers. “Just breathe.”

As Peter struggles to pull himself together, he feels the hand switch to rubbing circles on his back. It moves up to the back of his neck, but halts as soon as Tony’s fingers touch Peter’s bare skin.

Tony frowns. “Do you have a fever?”

“Wh-What?” Peter’s throat is thick.

“You’re really warm,” Tony explains. He flips his hand around to press the back of his fingers to Peter’s skin, first on his neck, then on his cheek. “Yeah. FRIDAY, can we get a read on that?”

“100.7, boss,” she supplies.

Tony hums a bit. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought…”

Peter doesn’t get it. “B-But I’m not sick,” he protests. “Just—”

“Exhausted,” Tony finishes for him. “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Sniffling, Peter gives a non-committal shrug.

“Yeah, that’s not good, kid,” Tony huffs. “Take it from a guy who has a bit of experience in this area—not sleeping enough will seriously mess you up.”

With a hand on Peter’s back, Tony starts gently ushering the kid out of the lab. Peter doesn’t even bother protesting anymore as he shuffles along, his lip quivering. He figures he’s caused enough trouble today.

Tony deposits him onto the couch in the living room and Peter immediately curls up against the arm rest, squeezing his eyelids shut in an effort not to think about what a fool he’s making of himself in front of his mentor. It doesn’t help much.

“You just chill out for a minute here, okay?” Tony says quietly, draping a blanket over Peter. “I’m gonna get you some meds.”

Peter nods and Tony gives his shoulder a final squeeze before stepping out.

The second he’s alone, the tears start streaming down again, hot and silent and totally uncontrollable. If he’s not working in the lab, then he really should be studying for these stupid finals, but he can’t bring himself to pull out his flash cards. He doesn’t think he can rest—not with so much hanging over his head—but he can’t work either. Tony was right; he’s just no good right now.

When Tony reenters with painkillers and a glass of water, he doesn’t say anything about how Peter is hurriedly sitting up and scrubbing his face with his hands in a pointless attempt to pull himself together. He just presses two pills into Peter’s palm.

Looking down at the painkillers in his shaking hand, Peter’s stomach twists and he’s suddenly not so sure they’ll be able to stay down. “I can’t. I feel sick,” he admits in a whisper.

With a quiet sigh, Tony perches himself on the edge of the sofa, right beside Peter’s tucked knees. “I think you’re just tired, kiddo. Sometimes that makes you feel a little sick.”

Peter doesn’t say anything so Tony passes him the glass of water. “Here. Humor me,” he says. “If I’m wrong, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

It’s a stupid joke, but the corners of Peter’s lips twitch anyway. “Okay,” he croaks.

Peter slips the pills into his mouth and swallows them down with a sip of water. He’s queasy, but it’s not too bad. He goes to set the cup back down on the coffee table, but his mentor shakes his head.

“Drink the whole thing,” Tony instructs.

Peter obeys. It takes him a couple of minutes, but he manages to get the entire cup down and feels just the smallest bit better for it.

Tony takes the empty glass from his hand and sets it on the table. “Think you can sleep now?”

Peter just shrugs. He wants to—god, he wants to—but he doesn’t deserve it. Not when this is all his own damn fault. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks again:

“I think I really messed up, Mr. Stark.”

Over the next ten minutes, it all comes tumbling out: the job at Delmar’s, the decathlon requirements, the late patrols, his slipping grades, his scholarship, everything.

“I just… I don’t want to change schools,” Peter concludes softly. “I like Midtown. It was the first place I really felt like… well, like I fit in.”

Tony’s been quiet for the whole time Peter was speaking, but now his brow furrows. “Why would you need to quit Midtown?”

Peter blinks at him; isn’t it obvious? “Because the full tuition is eight thousand dollars a semester. Without the scholarship…” he trails off. “I just can’t do that to May.”

A look of relief spreads across Tony’s face. “Is that all? That’s the whole issue?” He huffs out an amused breath. “Done. Consider it paid. Problem solved.”

Peter feels his cheeks flush. He shakes his head frantically. “No, no, I didn’t mean that you should pay! Please don’t do that!”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to blink at him. “Peter. I am a multi-billionaire. Do you have any idea what eight thousand dollars is to me?”

“But you shouldn’t have t—”

“Peanuts,” Tony cuts him off. “I’ve spent more on peanuts than that.”

“But—”

“And by that I mean actual, honest-to-god peanuts,” Tony continues over the kid’s protests. “There’s this company in Peru that slow-roasts them for twenty-one days in a secret spice blend. Happy’s obsessed with ‘em—says they’re god’s gift to mankind. So, for Christmas one year—”

“You can’t pay my tuition!” Peter blurts out.

Tony stops his story abruptly. His eyes narrow at Peter. “And why exactly is that?”

“Because…” Running a hand through his hair, Peter draws in a shuddery breath. “Because… If anyone should pay, it’s me. I-I’m the one who fucked up and lost the stupid scholarship. I should be the one responsible for fixing this.”

“But you can’t fix it,” Tony says bluntly.

Peter’s caught off-guard. “Wh-What? N-No, I just need to get my grades up, and, and…”

Tony’s voice is gentler now. “You can’t, Peter. You can’t get a 2.9 up to a 3.3 by next week, no matter how well you do on your exams. You’ve gotta know that.”

(Peter does know. He’s known for days. He’s always been good at math, after all.)

“So you can’t keep going on like this, trying to make up for what happened,” Tony concludes.

Tears prick at the corners of Peter’s eyes once more. He’s determined not to let them fall this time. “But I deserve it…” he whispers.

Tony shrugs. “If we always got what we deserved, I never would have made it through the 90s.” He huffs out a short laugh. “At least nobody has to bail you out of prison. Same can’t be said for all of us.”

In spite of Peter’s earlier resolve, the traitorous tears slip out anyway. He wonders how he has any left.

Tony sobers a bit. “You’re a good kid, Pete,” he says quietly. “But you’re trying to carry the whole world on your shoulders and that’s enough to break anyone. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. Even if you fucked up.”

Peter swallows hard. “Okay.”

“So let’s try this again,” Tony says. He makes eye contact with Peter. “What do you need, kid?”

“Right now?” Peter exhales deeply. “I dunno. A nap?”

Tony smirks slightly. “I think we can manage that.”

Peter makes it through finals.

All his extra effort and studying does yield some results. His gym grade increases to a B after Coach Wilson grades his two-page extra credit report on the rules of badminton. The trig final is rough, but he pulls in another couple points there, and the art teacher accepts a few late sketches from the unit on perspectivism. With the help of the final exam, he even manages to eek out a C- in Spanish.

When it’s all said and done, Peter’s GPA sits at 3.1.

“That wasn’t easy to do. I’m proud of you, Peter,” May says sincerely. “You know that, right?”

Peter shrugs. “I guess so.”

They’re sitting together at the apartment’s small kitchen table, May’s open laptop in front of them with all of Peter’s end of semester grades displayed. Peter’s eyes drift down from the screen to the table where a check for eight thousand dollars signed by Tony Stark himself is staring back at him. He sighs.

May plants a quick kiss on the top of her nephew’s head. “Well, I know so. So for now, I’ll just know it for the both of us.”

Peter strokes his fingers over the crisp paper of the check. Besides covering tuition, Tony has now upgraded Peter’s unofficial SI internship to a paid position—something he says he should have done long ago, given how much time Peter spends working in the lab—and that will allow him to give Mr. Delmar his two-week notice.

He knows he should be grateful, but honestly, it’s going to take him some time to wrap his head around the concept of being taken care of like this.

Getting up from the table, May moves over to retrieve a small paper bag from the counter. “That reminds me—Mr. Stark told me to give you this.” She tosses the bag to Peter, who catches it easily.

Curiously, he opens it. He’s immediately hit with the aroma of exotic spices and roasted legumes. Peter can’t help but grin.

A note inside the bag reads: Enjoy your peanuts, kid.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, you might also like:

Viral Wisdom

Go Down Swinging

A Pressing Emergency

Fic Masterlist

#irondad fic #irondad & spiderson #sick peter parker #hurt/comfort #crying #emotional breakdown #angst #soft angst #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #headache #fever #stress #school stress #gpa

387 notes · View notes

moviediary · 4 years ago

Text

She’s All That (1999)

Rich and popular makes a bet with his “friend”, whose personality is pretty much summed up by the fact that he has frosted tips, that he can turn any girl into the prom queen after getting dumped by his longtime girlfriend.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love this movie, but every time I watch it I can’t help but be amazed at how absurd it is. I mean, cliché plot aside, every individual piece that makes up this 1 hour and 30 minute ode to the individual is completely insane. What universe does this take place in? What high school do they go to?

That being said, I really like the opening shots to this movie, it definitely gives you a good introduction to the main character. Laney Boggs. She’s political and messy and 100% down to her bones an art student. She isn’t afraid to be dark.

In contrast I feel like the first meeting of the main love interest really doesn’t set him up to be who the writers want you to think he is. I mean he rolls up to school in a bright yellow Jeep with a Mr. Prez vanity plate. Then you see his shoes when he gets out of the car, fuckin’ ugly ass leather loafers. I’m sorry I know this means nothing I just have a hard time believing this jock wears these fucking shoes they’re so god damn ugly.

Every moment that introduces him makes it seem like he should be the villain, he has pretty much no redeeming qualities that we can see besides his wit (barely) and good looks. I just don’t understand why we’re supposed to like him, this is Sixteen Candles all over again. Hot rich guy, is an asshole, for some reason I still root for and love him. How does that work? What makes these characters so grossly likable? I mean, his name is Zack. That alone raises a red flag for me. That’s a frat boy asshole name. Zacks are friends of Kyle that’s all I’m saying.

Once we get through his painfully douchey introduction we get introduced to Zack’s equally douchey friends frosted tips and Gus from psych. (don’t ask me what their actual names are it’s not important anyway, that is essentially their personalities) The first thing we hear is them talking about summer break and their vacations, further driving home how rich they are and how weird it is that adults write movies about teenagers having gratuitous amounts of sex with adults. Then Zach tries unsuccessfully to say something philosophical about them graduating soon (I have to keep reminding myself that he’s supposed to have like the 4th highest GPA in their class) They then meet the most 90s girls I have ever seen. Who I guess are supposed to be popular? One thing I do like is how diverse all the characters are, they don’t all look exactly the same which I feel tends to be a problem with high school movies.

So we finally meet the “popular girl” Taylor Vaughn, Zack’s girlfriend and she immediately breaks up with him (which honestly is probably a good idea anyway) and his “friends” fucking laugh at him which he really had coming. I mean. Look at his hair.

This launches what is probably one of my favorite narrated flashback scenes of all time, not because the topic is particularly interesting but because I love the way they have Zach interrupt her inside of the flashback. It’s a very small addition that really gives the scene style. Also we see this hot girl start dating Shaggy??? Also one of the villains from the original Scream???( he only really plays one character.) Makes me laugh every time. Also makes me a little uncomfortable every time since she’s in high school and he’s who knows how old but whatever not important. This also leads to one of my favorite exchanges in the whole movie.

youtube

Taylor wraps up her spring break story time with one of the rawest lines I've ever seen in a 90s movie (she really did that to him) and the director throws in a classic high school movie trope, everyone actually caring enough to stop and watch this exchange. And while I usually hate this kind of character worship, since this movie is already so bizarre and unrealistic it actually kinda fits

We then cut to Laney’s art class which includes her teacher that for some reason thinks her art isn’t personal enough and two clown obsessed Lydia Deetz knock offs. I have to say I do love this part where the art students literally suggest that she kill herself in order to have her art recognized. Very realistic conversation between art students.

That whole scene is really funny though because it doesn’t feel like it belongs in this movie. Even the music doesn't fit which is only emphasized by the sudden bell ringing transition back into a stereotypical high school movie. It reminds me of movies like the craft, the way it’s cut together, the way the characters talk, how Laney just stares straight ahead after not saying anything. It seems like she could have chosen a completely different movie to be in. Like if the movie was a chose your own adventure, she could have been in a different genre entirely and the movie would have been about her and those girls faking her death to get recognition and make money from her paintings. which would have been sick. but that isn't the movie I’m watching. Which I’m reminded of when fucking Zack comes back on screen.

Also right before the scene where the actual bet is introduced we meet the school’s resident DJ??? which isn’t important at all but is so strange that I feel the need to point it out. Like they don’t just have a guy who does the announcements they have like a disc jockey who is just there all the time??? There are just so many little things in this movie that make it so weird.

So fucking Brock pukashells pulls up and Zach just flips. Which is understandable it is a very gross moment but he just fucking goes off about Taylor and how she’s not that great and he could get with any girl in the school. His friends point out that bitch boy forgot that Taylor Vaughn is “an institution” and basically Zach with tits. She’s very important. This is something I never get about movies like this, has anyone actually been to a high school where someone was that well known. But also not liked? Like sure she’s hot, but she’s also a grade A bitch to everyone. and according to Zach nothing more than a C minus GPA in a Wonderbra.

Once you get through the misogyny plus ultra scene and they finally make the bet, frosted tips has picked the girl Zach has to turn into the prom queen. Scary inaccessible Laney Boggs. He’s got 6 weeks to make her popular. He starts off his first exchange with her in the best way possible. By calling her brother Spaz (as his name). Again, we’re supposed to like this guy I think. I don’t know when he’s supposed to become a likable character but I can’t imagine it’s during all these scenes where he just legit insults people.

I also love all of the clips we get to see from Brock’s time on The Real World Which make me really question why all the girls fan girl over him given that he’s actually the worst, even on the show. We also get introduced to Zack’s sister who probably should have been a lesbian given how queer coded her character is besides the fact that she desperately wants a boyfriend. She even goes to an all girls school it would have been perfect. But alas, this movie is gay-less.

We are then introduced to another b-plot in this movie, Zack’s indecision about college. This was I guess to make him more human? or something? To sort of flesh him out and give him problems but honestly he doesn't have any problems. Later in the movie Laney points this out to him, he can do whatever he wants. This whole college thing is resolved fairly quickly later in the film too, it’s not very important it’s just the only thing we see about Zack besides being a perfect high schooler throughout the whole movie. Well that and his terrible performance art and being an asshole.

After we see that Zack has been accepted by every Ivy League school and their mother (I’m not jealous I swear) we take a brief Taylor being a bitch detour before getting back to Zack making an ass of himself. This time he’s bothering Laney at her job which is awesome we love that. Again I don’t know why we like this guy he does like 3 nice things the whole movie. Anyway she gets defensive like she always does and he fumbles around trying to talk like he’s a normal person and not a walking cliché and then there’s this really strange exchange where he tries to asked her for help in art classes and she says “you don’t take art” and he’s like “how do you know?” and she’s like “Why haven't I seen you in any of my classes?” and like, I get what they were going for but what kind of high school is this? how does she have time to take more than one art class? How is she already an art major before she’s in college that’s not how high school works. I only ever had one school where I could take more than two extra curriculars and that was in middle school and it was only because they fucked up and put me in four hours of study hall and so I just went to all of the art classes that were offered. But that’s different. And am I way over analyzing this movie? yes. Does anyone but me care about this shit? probably not, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway.

I also really like Laney’s best friend who’s kind of just there, all the time, he’s such a good wing man. He also made the best excuse to get out of seeing that weird ass art show she’s in. He’s like, oh good I don’t have to see another Mitch show. He’s probably in his underwear in all of them, I wouldn’t want to go either. I think it really says something about the performance art world though, because this is probably the most believable part of the whole movie. If someone told me that his is just an actual performance art piece that they used in this movie I would absolutely believe them. Also one of the weird gremlins in this piece says what is probably my favorite quote ever which is “my soul is an island, my car is a Ford” like what the fuck is that I love that so much.

I really want to know how they came up with this shit, it’s so perfect. It also is another one of these parts in the movie that doesn’t really add anything. A lot of the movie is like this, I feel like 90% of this movie is weird filler scenes and the rest in plot. Like it’s so obvious how it’s going to end that you barely even need to watch most of the movie, and even when you do watch most of the movie it always kind of feels like it only half has something to do with the plot. I’m not even going to talk about the weird hacky Sack scene, I can’t handle how embarrassing and cringey it is I pretty much always skip through it. What a dick move of Laney’s to even put him in that situation. The whole “your eyes are really beautiful” scene is also really strange, both his lines and her reaction don’t really make sense. Through most of this movie when they actually talk to each other I feel like they don’t have any chemistry. It’s the same when he subtly blackmails her into going to the beach with him. He’s awkward and barely says anything that prompts a response and then she just goes full WOKE EMO on him and like, they really do have nothing in common I do not understand their relationship. And then his friends show up and he’s like, “If we’re gonna be friends we’ll have to deal with them eventually” which like, 1: wow get some friends you actually like maybe? And 2: how are you guys friends, you’ve barely ever managed to exchange civil words on screen. Actually maybe that makes sense, this is why he thinks this is okay (besides the whole bet thing) maybe he doesn’t realize he’s supposed to actually like his friends and girlfriend. Because it really seems like he doesn’t like any of them, which I get. Except for Gus (not his name but whatever) because that guy’s actually pretty funny and spends the whole movie calling frosted tips out whenever he sounds too much like Kenny from Can’t Hardly Wait.

The whole beach scene is kinda take it or leave it too, there are a lot of moments where we see Laney hang out with Zack and other people but honestly through the whole movie there really isn’t a whole lot of growth. We don’t actually really see them bond or talk, we’re supposed to believe their relationship is growing but I guess that must be happening off screen because I don’t see it.

One of my favorite parts is when Zack forces the JV soccer team to clean Laney’s house, the kid answering the jeopardy question and her dad just realizing they were there. Oh man, gets me every time. The makeover scene is also pretty cute, I always love those. Also the whole “new, not improved, but different Laney Boggs” thing is adorable and I appreciate it.

The evolving of the characters and their relationships don’t happen gradually, what little is actually shown is pretty much in like 3 parts, the opening, the party scene, and the end. The characters are very flat for most of the movie and they have very little personality, but the party scene is very fun to watch. From “Gracias, papi!” to Laney turning Misty into a clown, and then the Give it to Me dance sequence. And even though the characters haven’t really given me a good reason to care about them my heart still hurts a little for Laney when Taylor ruins her dress. That’s the thing about this movie, I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t like these characters, but I still do, and I have no idea why.

The Brock dumping Taylor thing was great, the parallel was expected but I actually think it added to the story. In fact most of the things after the party actually feel necessary to the movie which is nice. Even the soccer practice actually leads to something. I don’t know what it is about the 2nd quarter of this movie that feels so empty but whatever it is it’s enough that I saw a noticeable difference when I got to the third act of this movie.

It’s a small part but I also really love the alternative clubs that make signs in favor of Laney for prom queen. They’re just so fucking funny to me. I mean, Hygiene club? Prisoners club??? What?

Then they pull another fast feelings thing on me again. They throw the mom painting scene at me and like, wow that’s sad. Then Zack tries to garner sympathy for the problems that he makes for himself. Then boom they flip on me again they’re cute and I like them. Then she says that weird thing about prom and he just dips man. And like, Why do they gotta do me like that? I cannot seem to decide if I like these characters or not it’s so weird how this dialogue is written.

And then the dream happens? Definitely one of the best scenes in the whole movie. So fucking perfect. It really just adds to the weird slight surrealness of this whole movie.

Then we go back to the school and suddenly everyone is dressing like Laney? In support I guess? Again can I just ask what fucking school they go to? And then there’s the beat boxing scene? Where they rap about who’s gonna be prom queen? I’ve never even met anybody that invested in the outcome of who’s gonna be prom queen except for those running. I don’t even think I know anybody who voted. Even so, I do love the beat box scene, they really spit some bars.

Also I just noticed that in that super fucked cafeteria scene, you can see Buffy make a cameo? Just a fun little trivia fact. But seriously that cafeteria scene is fucked. Like, the pubes on the pizza? I wish no one had thought of that ever. Also can I just say I would undoubtedly rather get my ass kicked than be forced to eat pubes. I don’t know what they were thinking that isn’t even a question.

It’s also really uncomfortable how good frosted tips is at acting like he’s not a douchebag. What a creep. If that were a real guy I’d be tempted to call him a sociopath. So gross. But I suppose it’s good for the story line.

The end of the movie wraps up pretty fast honestly. Zack’s dad and him finally communicate which fixes Zack’s only problem immediately because that’s just how easy it is. He was just projecting the whole time, his dad had literally no problems other than being a typical rich dad. Then of course we get another moment with the school DJ who I guess just gets to play and say what ever he wants whenever he wants. Am I the only one who thinks it’s really inappropriate how sexual that guy’s announcements about prom are? Maybe it’s just me and I had a really different high school experience but I feel like people are way too focused on sex when they make movies about high school. Other shit was going on you know? It’s just odd for me to think about grown adults writing and pitching this movie.

Zack really is such a bitch boy though, he doesn’t even try to explain anything to her, just lets her get hurt and lets Taylor be a bitch to her without saying anything. He doesn’t even try to tell her that frosted tips was just as much a part of it as he was. Honestly I kind of wish that frosted tips wasn’t such an asshole his whole heart to heart with her at the door before prom could have been really cute if I didn’t already know he was a lying scumbag. But I guess Laney just gets the lesser of the douchebags.

We finally get to the prom, inarguably the best part of the whole movie, all the little bits and pieces. The sex doll guy is always funny as hell. The DJ being the school DJ works really well brings a lot of closure to that whole weirdness. Also that dance scene is fucking great, has absolutely nothing to do with the plot, which actually works since about 40% of the things in this movie have nothing to do with the plot of this movie. I absolutely unironically tried to learn this dance, man I fucking wish prom was actually like this. I don’t know about you guys but for me, both of my proms were not nearly this theatrical. I spent my first one playing black jack the whole time and my senior prom was full of people that were way too white to dance. Anyway, Laney doesn’t win and she leaves early. Zack gives a pretty boring speech. Taylor goes off on everyone. Frosted tips tries to get Laney in bed and everyone gets upset.

The whole thing ends with Laney coming home to find Zach waiting for her to make sure she’s okay, which is sweet and all but like I can’t help wondering how long he had just been standing there waiting. Especially since it seemed like her dad was just ignoring him. That’s just a funny image to me. Anyway, they dance in the backyard. They kiss. It’s cute. Zack loses the bet so he accepts his diploma naked which I’m pretty sure is indecent public exposure but sure.

Overall it’s a very cute movie. The clichés are sort of made up for by all the weird 90s movie things. Plus it has a pretty great soundtrack. I know I sort of really went in on this movie but to be honest I really enjoy watching it. I’m not sure why. It’s pretty bad when you think about it any deeper than surface level. But it’s also just really fun and the characters are weird and there’s too many duffel bags to be normal and it’s just funny. It’s really weirdly funny. And it has that same non-conclusion that a lot of teen rom-coms have where they just can’t really give you all that much and just make sure they’re happy even if you know there is no way they can continue a relationship outside of high school. It may sound like it, but I’m not mad at it. If you haven’t already I’d say watch it. Watch it as a relaxing mindless good time activity. At the very least you won’t be bored, but if you get sympathy embarrassment like I do then maybe skip a few parts.

As of right now this movie is not available for free on any streaming sites (yes I own it on DVD don’t @ me)

Final Verdict:

Actual movie review: 6/10

How fun is it to watch?: 8/10

#she's all that #90s movies #movie review

9 notes · View notes

adhdtoomanycommas · 4 years ago

Text

ADHD, Gifted Programs, and Accidental Accommodations

So one big thing has been on my mind pretty consistently since I got diagnosed last year at the age of 30—why did it take so long to figure this out? At no point in my K-12 education or my 4 year bachelor’s degree schooling did any teacher or counselor question or suggest I may have ADHD, despite the fact that I check nearly every single box on every diagnostic criteria (both inattentive and hyperactive!)

One obvious reason is sexism. Pretty early in my reading on the subject, I learned that ADHD is dramatically under-diagnosed in girls and women. Partly this is because of different presentations, but a lot of it is just that the stereotype people have in their heads of what an ADHD kid looks like is always a boy.

But the other big reason, and the one I want to talk about today, is the fact that one of the few ADHD diagnostic boxes that I didn’t check was “bad grades.” So really, the question is, why weren’t my grades bad?

That’s not to say I was especially good at school work. My backpacks, desks, and binders were always a complete mess, and I NEVER did the homework. I would do the big projects (at the last possible second, of course) but daily homework just straight up didn’t happen. If there was time left at the end of class I would sometimes quickly do the homework for the next day, and occasionally jot down some approximation of it in the minute or two before class started, but when I was actually at home, I never touched it.

But here’s the thing with ADHD brains: We can focus on things with no problem, as long as we find them interesting. And I’ve always read quickly enough that doing the reading for class was usually interesting. And for the most part, the class content itself usually seemed interesting enough. But probably most importantly, I consider tests interesting. There’s always been enough of a challenge racing-the-clock game-like aspect to them to me that I would stay engaged on the tests, and even if didn’t completely know the material, I was good at using logic to get a pretty good guess (like using all those tricks they teach for standardized tests—narrowing down the options on a multiple choice question, looking for answers in the other questions, etc.)

So even in the classes where turning in the daily homework counted for part of the grade (math and language classes mostly) I was usually able to scrape a B with only the occasional C thrown in, and everything else was A’s.

But part of my saving grace was the “gifted” classes. I was very lucky that, despite not knowing about her own (probable) ADHD, my mom knew enough about how she worked as a student to know that me (and my brother) really needed to be engaged and challenged in order to thrive. Because of this, she advocated for us hard—she insisted we be allowed in my elementary school’s “gifted” program in kindergarten (based on our test scores of course) even though the “gifted” program officially wasn’t even available until first grade. And when we moved to a different state, she advocated for us again and got us included even though the “gifted” class was “full.” She knew that nothing would make us fail faster than being bored in class, so she made sure that there was at least one day a week when we would be challenged and actually get to engage with material we found interesting.

Aside, despite how essential they were for me to thrive in school, the entire concept of “gifted” programs and “gifted” kids is problematic as hell. Half of the screening is basically just looking for class signifiers and seeing whose parents had enough free time to give them a head start (or whose parents have the time to advocate for their kids the way my mom did for me). Not to mention there’s likely a massive racial bias. So in all this discussion of why I did ok despite my ADHD, it’s important to note that there’s a lot of privilege at play here determining who gets access to these types of programs.

This is also why I keep putting “gifted” in quotes-- I don’t think there is anything inherent about academic ability. Also, academic ability, reading ability, testing aptitude, etc. are definitely not indicative of intelligence. Plus the entire concept of the measurability of intelligence is based on eugenics ideas, so clearly one should take the whole thing with a huge grain of salt.

Nowadays the term all the parenting blogs like to use for kids like me, with ADHD (or dyslexia, or autism, or whatever else) who also test well enough to be flagged as “gifted,” is “Twice Exceptional” which is a term that makes me immediately want to punch whoever uses it. Seriously, it makes me gag. Like, it doubles down on the “special” euphemism and seems entirely designed to make parents feel better about their kid without any consideration to how the kid feels. No kid wants to be singled out, especially one who’s already probably pretty socially isolated (which I could digress about but that’ll be another essay for another day), and being Twice singled out certainly doesn’t help anything.

But ultimately the teaching in the “gifted” class itself wound up being really good accommodations for ADHD. I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if they were better than the accommodations in the separate classes actually intended for kids with ADHD and other learning issues, though since I wasn’t diagnosed as I kid I can’t actually speak to that as I don’t have any experience there. But in the gifted classes, firstly, we were given more specific subjects as opposed to the overviews we got in regular classes. And it’s way easier to be engaged on specific subjects like ice age mammals, or the wreck of the Titanic, than it is to be engaged with a broad list of dates or categories. We did logic problems that were presented as games, but that were indirectly teaching us the basics for higher level math. In 6th grade, we did research projects and got to pick our own subjects completely, so we could write about whatever we were hyperfixating on at the moment (mine was on medieval warfare as depicted in the Bayeux tapestry). And if we happened to get excited and blurt out an interesting fact vaguely related to whatever was being discussed, that was likely encouraged instead of reprimanded like it would be in the normal classroom. This continued into high school, as honors and AP level classes tended to be a lot more discussion based rather than the top-down approach at other levels, as well as affording more opportunity to choose one’s own subjects.

The story you’ll hear from (or about) a lot of ADHD kids (especially undiagnosed) flagged as “gifted” is of hitting a wall at some point, academically speaking. That did happen to me briefly, in middle school. We started being assigned a lot more long-term projects, and there was a bit of a learning curve while I figured out how to put things off Until the last minute and not Past the last minute. But thanks to some patient teachers who believed in me (which I might not have had outside of honors classes), I managed to pull out of it and improve my grades (with the exception of the only report-card F of my entire academic career, from a sadistic gym teacher who seemed to think that enough berating would cure asthma).

Even more stories I’ve read and heard from people who were diagnosed with ADHD as an adult say they hit that wall academically when they started college—the first time they were really self-guided in their studies. But again, there, I was saved by an honors program. In this case, it was the Honors Tutorial College, a truly strange program at Ohio University. I was tracked into HTC by one particular professor who very much wanted HTC to expand into the art program and decided that because I had both strong test scores and a strong art portfolio (and probably, lets be real, because I was the daughter of one of the other professors) that I was the perfect person to be the first student in the new program.

OU’s website describes HTC as “flexible curriculum and one-on-one tutorials with renowned faculty that allow your curiosity to take the lead in your education.” It’s rigorous, but comes with a lot of perks, like waiving certain gen-ed classes, being able to take classes without first taking the required prerequisites, and designing one’s own independent study classes individually with instructors. And those perks are (as far as I know entirely accidentally) the perfect accommodations for an ADHD student (and probably pretty good for Autistic ones as well, based on some of my peers in the program).

A lot of the gen-ed classes I waived were ones I probably would have been bored in and thusly not done well. Being able to skip pre-reqs meant that, for instance, for my English requirements I was able to take far more interesting classes like Shakespeare’s Comedies, YA Lit, and Playwriting instead of English 101, 102 etc. If I wanted to learn about something in particular, I had help finding a professor willing to help me in an independent study/tutorial class. Being the pilot of the program meant I was able to shape it so that I could get an art degree without ever having to choose one medium (which as far as I know is still an option for anyone pursuing an HTC Studio Art degree). And at the end of the program, when we were required to complete a massive thesis project and paper (at basically graduate level), not only could I choose my subject to meet my hyperfixations, but I had individual help from a professor keeping me on task on the less-fun parts at every step of the way.

HTC students are required to keep their GPAs above a high threshold. At one point one of my grades (in Latin class) was low enough to hurt my average, and I was called into HTC headquarters for a check-in meeting. I was asked why my grade had fallen, and I explained that the class wasn’t that interesting (at that level it was mostly grammar) but that it was getting better as we were moving up into translating more actual historical material. That explanation was entirely accepted. Imagine if “it’s not interesting enough” was considered a valid excuse for grades slipping for everyone, how much less stressful school would be for ADHD kids!

So ultimately it’s pretty much been having the luck and privilege to get myself flagged for “gifted” classes that kept my grades up throughout my school years. Accidental accommodations have continued into my adult life as well. At my most recent office job, for instance (which I lost due to covid layoffs), I had a pretty hands-off boss who just didn’t care if I doodled, got up to stretch my legs every once in a while, and listened to audiobooks at my desk all day as long as the work got done.

I didn’t need a diagnosis to get these accommodations, because they were given freely, which meant I was able to succeed even without knowing about my own ADHD. If I had been diagnosed, and had had to ask for accommodations, I wonder if I would have done as well as bias against people with ADHD means people wouldn’t have expected as much from me.

So if you’ve made it this far, I’ll ask for the same for others that I got for myself. If you are a teacher (or a manager in an office setting), I strongly encourage you to consider how to make your classroom, office, etc. more accessible in general, without someone having to disclose a diagnosis or be singled out for accommodations. The biggest easiest one you can do is to allow (or even encourage) doodling in lecture settings. Even for neurotypicals, there have been plenty of studies proving people retain information better when doodling, so everyone should know by now that someone doodling doesn’t mean they’re not listening. If at all possible, encourage discussion and contribution. Give everyone breaks to stretch and move around. And give as much freedom as possible on what to learn about. You might be surprised what people are capable of when these reasonable steps are taken to give everyone room to thrive.

That’s all for now, hopefully you got something out of this unwieldy ramble. I’d be curious to hear if you’ve run into any accidental accommodations in your life and how they’ve helped. Until next time!

#actuallyadhd #Actually ADHD #adhd #gifted kids #former gifted kid

13 notes · View notes

labyrinth-runner · 5 years ago

Note

How about Obidala, with 43? 💕

50 Days of Fics: Day 4

Ooooo this one is a good prompt, anon! It actually hit a little too close to home lol. I was my class’ Valedictorian and we almost moved that year, but the reason they didn’t was because I needed to stay at my school to keep my ranking.

Prompt: My family moves in the middle of my senior year of high school and now I’m the first real threat to you for valedictorian and you make it very clear that you’re going to do anything to win but I haven’t worked this hard to lose it all now.

“Alright class of 2020, turn those tassels!” Padmé exclaimed as she looked out at the sea of her classmates from the stage. Her face beamed with pride as she took her hat and threw it into the air. Her eyes locked with her Salutatorian and they shared a smile. It hadn’t always been like this.

Padmé groaned as she looked at the listings outside the principal’s office. She checked it every Monday without fail to see if the listings had changed. She was still in first place. Good, she thought. Her eyes trailed the list. Well, that’s interesting... the new kid had been steadily climbing the ranks since he got there.

At first, she hadn’t thought much of it. Surely it was too late for him to be a threat. She had been working her entire life for the title of Valedictorian. She had been getting A’s since grade school. Her 8th grade year book listed her as “Most Likely to Succeed,” and Maker as her witness, she was going to. But this boy... this once insignificant boy was now closing in. He had started at the bottom, and now two months into his arrival he was already in the top ten and closing in fast. The rest of her classmates weren’t close enough to her GPA to be much of a threat, not with the straight A’s she’d been getting in all her AP classes. Sure, she’d taken them because she had wanted to, but the fact that they were weighted more and boosted her GPA was a nice bonus.

No, if this boy had risen so fast, he was a threat, an unknown threat, but a threat all the same. She’d have to have a little talk with him.

Padmé found him in the library, his brown glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose. His sweater was rolled up to his elbows, and he looked like he was engrossed in whatever book he was reading.

Not for long, she thought. She gracefully slid into the seat across from him and cleared her throat.

“Hello there,” the boy replied, looking up at her through bangs that had flopped onto his face. His head was propped up by his hand.

“Kenobi,” Padmé replied. “I’m going to need you to cease and desist.”

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan asked, his brow crinkled in confusion.

“You heard me,” Padmé responded. “I haven’t worked twelve years to get where I am now, just to have some nobody show up out of nowhere my senior year and steal the title of valedictorian from under my nose. I won’t stand for it.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in indignation. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Obi-Wan shot back. “I left my school, losing my title to get thrown into a new school halfway through my senior year. Everyone else has friends, they know their place. By the time I figure out what mine is, we’ll be graduating. My grades are the only thing I can control. They’re the only thing I have.”

“You can’t be serious,” Padmé deadpanned.

“Oh, darling, but I am.” He flipped his book close, holding it to his chest as he got up. “May the best man win.”

Padmé scoffed as he walked away from her. “Oh, it’s on!”

“Shhh!” the library said, shooting her a look.

The next few months past by in a blur of exams and papers. She stood in front of the list on yet another Monday. This time, she didn’t feel satisfaction. She felt despair. Kenobi had made it to second place, and he was only a few decimal points off from her GPA. She would lose. She felt herself deflate as Kenobi came over to look at the list.

“I’m coming for you, Senator,” Kenobi joked. Padmé had earned the nickname due to her shrewd politics. She had been class President for the past three years, but gave it up to focus on her grades, choosing instead to run as class representative to the school council.

“Not today, Kenobi,” she sighed, heading off towards her locker. She had given up so much her senior year to focus on her studies. Trim the fat, she had told herself. More like trim the fun. At the time it had seemed worth it, because she’d have that title. She’d have earned it. Colleges would want her, and she could move on, leaving high school in the rear-view mirror. But now? Now with only a few weeks left of the school year, she would have nothing to show for it. Her senior year would have been a waste.

Obi-Wan looked over at the list, and then over at Padmé. Her usually take-on-the-world posture was gone. She looked so small... and alone, he realized. Everyone else came into school on Monday morning and went straight to the cafeteria to talk to their friends about what they’d gotten up to that weekend, but not Padmé. Padmé went straight for the list. It was almost like... she hadn’t done anything exciting... or worse... she didn’t have any friends. Sure, he’d seen her talking to people in class about various things, but she always went home alone.

Obi-Wan groaned. He was such an idiot. Sure, he’d come late into the year, but he’d still had made friends. He’d balanced being able to have friends and getting grades, but Padmé was so one-track when it came to wanting to be Valedictorian, that she must’ve stopped caring about everything else. It wasn’t too late, though. There were still some events of senior year he could salvage for her, like prom.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan said softly as he came to stop at her locker. He couldn’t see her face behind the door, but he could hear her sniffling.

“What? Come to gloat some more?” Padmé bit out.

“Actually, no,” Obi-Wan sighed.

Padmé closed the door to her locker and looked at him. Her eyes were red. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

“Are you asking me out of pity?” She shot back.

“No, I’m asking you because I don’t have a date yet,” Obi-Wan replied. But, it was partly pity.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Pick me up Friday at seven,” she said before walking away.

Obi-Wan leaned against the locker slack-jawed. Had that really just happened? Did he just ask his nemesis to prom? And worse, was he actually looking forward to it? His heart skipped a beat.

The week went by fast and Obi-Wan found himself fidgeting on Padmé’s front porch, mentally debating on whether or not to ring the bell. The corsage in his hand matched his tie, but he was worried if it would be up to her standards. His eyes squinted in confusion. Since when did he care about what she thought? He shook his head, deciding to ring the bell before he talked himself out of it.

“Padmé, honey, your date is here!” Her mother yelled as he waited for her in the foyer.

He heard footsteps, heels on wood, as she scurried towards the stairs.

“Coming, mother!” she exclaimed as she went to rush down the stairs.

However, she slowed as she saw him. She thought he looked handsome in his suit, his eyes matching the color of his tie, making them seem impossibly brighter. He had left his glasses at home, swapping them for contacts. He hadn’t wanted to ruin her photos with the glare. He had even shaved the usual stubble he had been trying to grow into a beard. Padmé’s voice caught in her throat at the sight and butterflies entered her stomach.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as she made her way to the bottom of the stairs. He went over to take her hand, placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

“Darling, you look stunning,” he said as he righted himself, and he meant every word. She was wearing a blue off-the-shoulder gown that billowed out from her waist like water cascading down a cliff. Her hair was an array of curls, pulled back out of her face. Oh, how he wanted to know what they felt like in his hands. He pulled out the corsage and slid it up her wrist before meeting her eyes.

She could drown in the depths of his eyes. She didn’t think she could ever see him as anything but an usurper, but here he was, making her heart skip a beat against her permission.

“Shall we?” Obi-Wan asked, offering her his arm. She slipped her hand through it, and they were off.

It was the best night of her life. He made her laugh like no one ever had, and she could actually have an intelligent conversation with him. It almost made her forget about the rankings. Almost. As they danced to a particularly slow song, she started to slip back into her head, wondering what she could possibly do to boost her grade.

“Darling, I’ve lost you,” Obi-Wan said softly, rubbing his thumb against her cheek.

“Sorry, Obi-Wan,” she said, breaking herself from her reverie.

“Is it about the ranking?” he murmured.

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. “I just... I’ve worked so hard.” She quickly added, “Not that you haven’t.”

“But, you’ve given up so much for it, right?” Obi-Wan sighed, “Just for some nobody to take it from under your nose.”

“You’re making it hard to hate you,” she replied with a small smile.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow.

“You’re not a nobody,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

“Oh? And what am I to you?” He asked, spinning her out before holding her against him.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “My equal,” she sighed, “And if I had to lose to someone, I’m okay that it’s you.”

“Oh, you’re not going to lose to anyone,” he said with a small knowing smile.

She scrunched her nose, trying to think of what he could mean by that. They hadn’t had anything this week that could change the grades that much except their pop quiz in physics. Her eyes widened in realization. “You didn't!”

“Didn’t what?” Obi-Wan smirked, “Didn’t throw a pop quiz so that a woman I admire could achieve her dreams? Definitely not. I answered that to the best of my ability. However, I didn’t study for the subject this week like I normally would have. Therefore, I didn’t throw anything. I just wasn’t as prepared.”

Padmé bit her lip. “But you wanted that.”

“Well, this week I came to the conclusion that there was something else that I want more,” he smiled as he turned her in his arms so that they were facing each other. He gently cupped her face, using his thumb to move an errant curl from her cheek.

“What’s that?” She asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. She subconsciously leaned into his touch.

“You,” Obi-Wan whispered, closing the gap between them to kiss her. He meant it. He had competed with her these last few months, and her drive always impressed him. She became someone he admired and respected.

Padmé’s eyes gently fluttered closed as she fell into the kiss. Her hands slid up to wrap around his neck. She had a big smile on her face as he pulled away at the behest of a chaperone who had cleared their throat at the public display of affection. Padmé rested her head back onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder, dancing the rest of the night away in his arms.

The celebration died down and the crowd started to disperse. Padmé bent down to pick up her cap that had landed in the grass nearby.

“You got what you wanted,” Obi-Wan replied as he came up and hugged her from behind.

“And more,” she teased.

“Oh? And more?” Obi-Wan chuckled as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Obi!” She laughed as her surroundings blurred. “Put me down!”

Obi-Wan slowed down, holding onto her as she slid down his chest til her feet touched solid ground.

“What about you?” She asked, breathless. “Did you get what you wanted?”

Obi-Wan smiled down at her, cupping her cheek. “And more, darling,” he replied softly. “So much more.”

#obidala #50 days of fics #day 4

26 notes · View notes

johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

Text

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 1: You Were My Town

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader

Word Count: 2,061

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: first chapter is finally here!! this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated everyday, there will be 4 more chapters ahead.

PICTURE EXCLUSIVE: New Couple Alert! Steve Rogers and a blondie bombshell can’t keep their hands off each other! The headline verbalized.

The notorious heartthrob was spotted leaving The Ritz-Calton Hotel in Los Angeles around 2 AM with Spanish model, Alondra Ondiviela, 28, who looked stunning in a salmon sports bra and black overall, as she walked hand-in-hand with Dusk and Dawn star, Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers was last linked to Blade in Deep actress, Anne Amorós back in early spring this year but had reportedly split after only two months dating.

Steve Rogers has been previously linked to many gorgeous models in the past, earning him the infamous title of ‘Hollywood’s favourite ladykiller.’ Will Alondra Ondiviela be the one to finally make Steve Rogers settle down and give up his womanizer ways? Placing our bets on how long this couple is going to last!

You closed the tab on your browser as you sighed defeatedly on your couch. You laid your head back on the headrest as you shut your eyes and folded your arms against your chest. Just how many more gossip articles can you endure?

Steve Rogers was your childhood best friend and… Perhaps the only man you had ever truly loved. You knew it was nothing but sheer naivety for you to concede that. You knew it was cruel and inequitable to your heart, but, you still held on to that tiny glimpse of hope that someday, things will change. He will change. Despite all the shit he had put you through, you couldn’t abnegate yourself from him. He always lured you back in with his sweet words and sinful lips whenever you try to expel him from your door.

It wasn’t always like this. Back in kindergarten, Steve used to be this good, shy, scrawny kid who had a blistering passion for art. He was always very twitterpated by watching live shows on stage. When you were kids, Steve would try to sneak both of you into the theatre when the lights were out. Steve didn’t grow up in a very lucky family. His abusive father abandoned his mother when he was only four years old, and since then, his mom had been working tirelessly to keep a roof over their heads and fill in their fridge with food.

You, on the other hand, were a little luckier than him. Your parents had decent jobs that paid the bills well enough to survive. Whenever Steve was short in cash, you would always offer him a little bit of your pocket money or your meal. You would even offer to buy tickets for both of you so you didn’t have to sneak in and could actually get good seats. But he would always say, “well, where’s the fun in that?”

So you’d drop the topic and go along with whatever deceitful ways he had in mind. After all, he was your best friend and you trusted him. You’d rather choose the thrill of bootleg games than waiting ten minutes early before the show starts anyway. But you remember it vividly under the aura of those stage lightings and when the actors were personifying in their larger-than-life costumes, he would be so mesmerized by the show before him that sometimes he wouldn’t even say a word to you at all until it was over.

Before you went home, he and you would walk to the nearest burger place, where you would eat under the polychromatic neon sign and he would tell you, “someday, I’m going to my face on the big screen or one of those giant stages and I would make my mom proud!” he cheered. And you’d always encourage him, “…and I’ll be there to watch and clap for you in the audience.”

Rest in peace, to your naïve bravado… Little did you know, his dream was going to be your doom.

You remained closed friends as you grew up; going to the same school, sharing a few classes together, until, in high school, things began to change. He began to join auditions and taking art classes and extracurriculars. He became busier and busier every day to the point where he could only hang out with you on the weekends. That is when he absolutely had no rehearsals or he wasn’t too worn out from a week full of activities.

You also noticed the different manner and shift of inflexion when you two hung out. All he would talk about is the ‘clique’ of popular boys in school had asked him to sit with them at lunch and how the popular girls would start preening at him when he walked down the hallway. It was as if by partaking in these arts clubs, it gave him a VIP member card to get access into sitting with at exclusive spots and it upgraded his status.

He changed his looks as well, by going to the gym more often and eating more so that he would gain some muscles. He began dressing like one of those jocks and he would begin throwing in some flirtatious comments to those popular girls when they were around.

Eventually, he and you began to grow apart. It got worse when he started dating one of the popular girls, Janet, and he would ditch you even on weekends despite all the plans you had made weeks prior.

“I can’t hang out today, y/n. Janet’s parents are out of town and I think we are going to hook up in her giant pool!”

“But what about the movie that we planned to see together today? I thought you had been anticipating for it since a year ago?”

“I know, but can we just postpone it? It’s not like they are going to take it out tomorrow! We could still see it next weekend.”

“Well, we’ve bought the tickets, Steve.”

“Ah, shit, alright, I’ll just pay back the money, okay? How much are those tickets?”

“No, it’s fine, Steve. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really? You sure, y/n?”

“Yeah, I’ll just ask my mom or maybe Wanda to go see it with me. Don’t want those spoilers on the internet ruining it for me.” You chuckled hollowly. Disappointment filled up your heart but you pretended like it was alright, anyway. If Steve wanted to spend time with his girlfriend then, you had no right to stop him and force him to hang out with you.

“Ah, got it. Thanks, y/n. You’re the best!” and then the frozen seconds on the screen showed that he had ended the call.

The phone calls and text messages began to dwindle. You would often try to text or call him first but it would go to voicemail and or you would be left on read. When you were at school, Steve completely stopped hanging around you. He would rather be with his new ‘friends’ now. And he was too occupied with making out with Janet to notice you as you both walk past each other in the hall.

Wanda was your most trusted confidant and she knew about all the feelings you caged inside you for Steve. She would always be there for you when you cry over him and she would always encourage you to move on and stop trying to reach him. “You deserve so much better than this, y/n. Why would you ruin yourself for an asshole like him?”

Curse your adamant heart for refusing to listen to Wanda and take her advice. In the bottom of your heart, you knew that Wanda was right. You deserved so much better than what Steve had turned you into. You used to be this bright-eyed, rose-coloured heart person who saw your future in a radiant lustre. You were always drawn to helping people out. You used to think that maybe you’d end up being a nurse or a school counsellor, but as you grew older, gradually, you realized that there is far way more pernicious malady than physical ones.

Like the wound in your heart that Steve keeps tapping on every time he acts like he didn’t know you or he left another call or text unanswered. Every time he posted pictures of him and Janet, or him and ‘the boys’ who would walk around the school as they owned it. You had always dreaded those boys. You knew they were bad news and you didn’t want to be associated with them under any circumstances. You and Steve used to make fun of them, how much of a loser they are and how negligent they are toward their grades. But who would’ve known that Steve would turn into his own worst abomination?

Eventually, like all good (and bad) things, they must come to an end. You graduated with a 3.8 GPA and you were proud of yourself for all those times you spent being at home to do your homework and study until around 2 AM.

You were happy; you were satisfied with your grades, your parents were there, cheering for you in the audience and taking countless pictures of you when you walked on stage, and you could finally move forward to the next stage of your life. But something was missing.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to finally graduate.” He scanned the paper with a mark that mocked him in big bold red as he sat at the edge of your twin-sized bed. You had just returned from school and you had received the result of your Math tests. You luckily got a B+ but clearly, Steve didn’t acquire the same latter.

“C’mon, it’s just one bad test. It doesn’t mean that your life is over.”

“I know but, I don’t like seeing a C+ on my test, y/n. It makes me feel inadequate. Besides, I need a solid 3.7 GPA in order to get into NYU. Otherwise, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you still have what it takes. You just need to do a lot better in the next one.”

“Yeah, I’m really gonna have to work my ass off though. Math has never been my strongest suit.”

“Neither it’s mine, but you know what? Someday we’ll wear our graduation hat and this wouldn’t even matter. You’d probably forget that you’ve ever had a C in your high school year.”

You recalled those times where Steve would endlessly talk about graduating and what would happen when both of you go on separate ways. He would tell you “don’t be silly. We’ll always be best friends even if we go to different universities. It’s not like we don’t have a phone, y/n.”

You always imagined that on your graduation day, you both would celebrate it together but of course, those dreams have long perished. Steve didn’t even have a smile on his face when your name was being announced.

He was supposed to be there, standing right next to you and engulf you in a warm, giant hug. The one that he used to give on your birthdays. But no, now, you could only watch him from several feet away farther than you both used to be. You could only hear his echoing laugh as he high-fived the boys and twirl Janet around up in the air like the happy ending in your favourite Rom-Com movies.

That should be me. Your heart cry mourned for the memories and the fractured promises. It was like there was this colossal fortress between the two of you and while you were fighting to climb it to reach him, he, on the other hand, didn’t even have the patience to wait for you.

It’s okay though. At least you had your parents and Wanda and her parents and twin brother, Pietro who adorned this special day distracting you away from the anguish of missing Steve. You were going to spend this entire day with the people who truly loved you and you loved just as equal before you had to leave for the new phases of your own lives.

You will finally move to your college dorm, have yourself a roommate, and invest your time and energy in something that you knew you were always meant to do and it excites you that your journey of helping people will start soon.

And Steve Rogers will be nothing but a consigned to oblivion memory that will sink like a battleship beneath the waves.

At least for now.

237 notes · View notes