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kitorin · 1 year ago

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OUR SPRING

016. a sight just for us

"ARE WE THERE YET?"

YOUR LEGS ARE BEGINNING TO TIRE OUT, fatigue's arrival has sweat accumulating on your forehead as your breathing becomes unstable as you stare at the way Hyoma's carmine ponytail sways.

Without turning around, Hyoma calls out, still far ahead of you. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Self care day my ass." Though you mutter it under your breath, he chuckles as a response, halting his movements for you.

When he'd texted you to meet up at a park nearby the city, you expected a casual stroll in the park, not a borderline hike. You would've brought a much smaller bag—and a larger water bottle.

"I promise you it's not too long. Hang in there, we'll take a break if you need it." A hand offers his help, and you accept thankfully. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah—." You huff out, slightly embarrassed at how unfazed Hyoma remained, a contradiction to how the summer air relentlessly harassed you with its heat. "Just hot."

But he knows better. "There's no shame in resting. We'll take a break."

A tired nod, and you're fishing through your shoulder bag for your water bottle, hurried enough to almost spill it everywhere. You're not bothered by it though, as you're admiring the scenery; how the trees stretch their coffee coloured arms above you, emerald leaves holding hands whilst permitting some sunlight to shine through.

It's worth it, you think, even if you're sweating uncomfortably.

"Come to think of it, I didn't know this path existed." You're not constantly seeking outdoor activities nor are you particularly into them, but the park was well known enough for a multitude of reasons; one being their nature walks.

But those were outlined with stone steps, while the one the two of you were walking down remained untouched, earth and all. There were supposed to be wooden handrails accompanying the path too, as well as the occasional map adorned with a sign.

You begin moving again, a silent way of telling Hyoma you're ready to continue. "Is this a secret one? I don't think they included it on the website either."

"You're not exactly wrong."

"Meaning?" The sun's gleam was becoming more prominent, as you approached what you'd assume to be the end of the path.

"This isn't one of their nature walks, I just happened to find it one day." Before you're able to question his words, he grasps your wrist, pulls you towards the light.

You'd tried to protest, but it was difficult as you (barely) matched Hyoma's pace.

"Oi—"

To no avail you're ignored, as the two of you rush, probably disrupting a few creatures of the local ecosystem, some dirt being kicked up as he pulls you along. "Just wait."

Not like I have a choice, dumbass.

In no time, the trees standing over you were gone and you're met with the sun blinding you, breeze immediately playing with your hair.

"We're here!"

He releases your wrist, as you ignore the stifling heat discomposing your skin to admire the view.

Your true surroundings were revealed, a small field of grass adorned with a couple of trees, peering down at the park. Cautious, you inch closer to the edge, now noticing people—walking, cycling, jogging, appearing like small beetles hassling amidst the earth. Though the height of the cliff evokes nausea, it was beautiful, how small everything looked; how you could see so much.

"Are you really that unfit?" His teasing tone makes you realise how out of breath you were, as Hyoma holds out a bottle of Pocari Sweat, one from his backpack.

You pant a bit. "I just hate the heat—summer's not my thing." You accept the bottle, taking a particularly large sip from it after squatting down. "I'm surprised they didn't make this place and the route one of their nature walks. It's so pretty. How'd you find it?" It's a hidden gem, you look around and the area's spotless, not a single sight of rubbish, nor any damage inflicted.

"I didn't, Nee-chan did." He joins you, settling down in the grass. "She showed me when I was a kid, and after becoming an idol I've come to love this place more." Hyoma leans backwards, plopping into the soft grass.

You mimic the action, though a lot more hesitant and careful. "So you have an older sister." Your gaze fixates onto the sky, wispy clouds slowly drifting along. "Is she your only sibling?" You turn to see his response; a nod with a grin.

"I love her so much. She's always been there to help me, and taught me things like how to cook or tie my hair. She's so cool, too. I don't know what I'd do without her."

Joy was evident, from the way he spoke, to the beam he donned.

It's not like he was constantly stoic, but right now he was smiling as though without restrictions—a countenance completely different from the subtle and polite one he wore in photoshoots and interviews.

"What about you?"

"Huh—?"

His question snaps you out of it, a silent reminder that you've been staring. "What about you? Do you have siblings?"

"Oh. Nope." You pray that he didn't notice your staring, and if he did you hope he didn't misinterpret it nor feel uncomfortable. "That's why I'm so close to Yoichi and Meguru, since we grew up in the same neighbourhood. My parents were busy so I played with them all the time instead." You sit up, admiring the view once more.

"I see." He imitates your action, leaning back into his arms, palms pressed into the earth behind him.

"It feels sort of wrong to be here." The comment comes out wrong, bordering on the line of discourtesy.

But Hyoma didn't seem to take any offense. "What do you mean?"

"It's you and your sister's place. It doesn't feel right coming here for content."

"Content?"

"You know, taking photos for your social media."

"Oh." You regret speaking immediately when you notice his frown, and your worry still persists even after he smiles again. "Recently we've only talked about our 'deal', I wanted to spend time as friends rather than just business partners. Right now, I'm showing this to my friend y/n, not my partner l/n."

"I thought it'd be nice, it's been a great escape. There's pretty much no one here, I don't have to worry about being watched. I wanted it to be equally comforting for you too, after all, rumours are expected as an idol, you're just trying to live normally."

Lips slightly parted, and heart warm, you study his expression, painted with genuine solicitude, rose coloured irises soft. The definition of your relationship was perplexing; you know you're only there because of a mutually beneficial deal, yet at times it feels like authentic friendship wove the two of you together.

"Thank you, I love it." Say more, idiot. Desperate, you piece the words together hurriedly in your head, not wanting to leave things unaddressed but worried about uttering the wrong words. "But things like rumours shouldn't be expected for anyone. I'm studying and you're simply making and performing music. Just because it's common and expected doesn't mean it should happen, nor you deserve it."

For moment the two of you sit in silence, listening to the wind sing alongside the rustling of leaves.

Hyoma eradicates the silence first. "You're right, I never really thought about it that way since a lot of people tell me success like that comes with a price."

"Then fuck them. I mean there's nothing you can do about speculation, I won't blame people for their curiosity but not harassing someone is basic human decency." You've never actively updated on a celebrities' image to the public, and you have good reason to. Anonymity served as encouragement for some people to behave in such an intrusive manner. "You're just as human as anyone else, just a lot more skilled. And attractive."

"Aaaand that's where I stop you. You were sounding ever so wise til that part. Shut up." He turns, hand reaching to your face for what you'd assume to be a flick to the forehead. You push his hand away (being friends with Yoichi had made you immune to that attack).

"Am I wrong though—?"

Hyoma speaks with a straight face. "Yeah. How about we start off with how good you are at school?"

You roll your eyes. "Anyone can study."

"Not as well as you though."

"It's not like I'm number one in the entire grade." You almost wince at the memories of that one classmate that manages to surpass your score by just a tiny bit.

"Not to mention you have a life—"

"—of watching kdramas and reading books." You chuckle, it certainly wasn't as thrilling as how Meguru or Yoichi lived their lives, but it was your way; one that made you happy.

Hyoma's finger goes to your lip, hovering just above as to not touch you without permission. "At least it's not drugs, reading's good for you anyways, now shush for a moment." He lists off the other hobbies you indulge in on each finger, outlining what makes them hard. "Your personality is great, you're emotionally intelligent, you're really pretty too—"

The final clause earns a burst of laughter from you.

"What? Are you doubting me?"

"It feels weird coming from you. You're surrounded by attractive idols all day, and spend so much time with other ones in other groups. Calling me 'really pretty' after meeting all those stars is crazy. Not like anyone else would agree with you either."

Hyoma becomes silent at the comment. "This place is hideous."

A sudden readjustment in topic has your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. "Pardon?"

"Kawachi Fujien is stunning, a shame really since that just makes this place ugly."

"You can't say that, one being pretty doesn't make the other ugly—"

The moment those words left your mouth, victory pervades his features, a toothy grin, which was quite frankly quite adorable.

"I made you say it! The same applies to you, yeah the people on tv are pretty, but it doesn't mean you aren't. And—" His hand holds yours. "—if no one else has said the same things as me, then that doesn't mean I'm wrong. It simply means you're an undiscovered flower, one that the world has yet to discover and appreciate the beauty of."

Though the unexpected grandeur accompanying his words leaves you speechless, it's not unwelcome—you can't deny the ebullience creeping onto your lips.

"That's why, you shouldn't let anyone nor any self deprecating thoughts get to you, okay?"

His words erased any memory of any negativity you held against yourself. Sure, you can recall how you doubted why'd he choose you for this role, but the insecurities regarding your appearance and the misery they carried were gone.

"Got it. I promise you."

"One more thing."

"Hit me."

"At the end of March, come here with me. Let's watch the cherry blossoms together, away from everyone else. A spring just for us."

That would be nice, gazing upon the sea of pink, out of anyone else's reach.

That's if, if he even has reason to speak to you after this deal of yours, or if it lasts for that long.

You hold up your pinkie. "I promise you that too."

Hyoma's pinkie intertwines with yours. "It's a deal then."

In spite of whether this deal will last until then, and the heat permeating your cheeks, there's nothing but merriment blooming within your heart.

LEGS SORE AND EXHAUSTED, you plop into your chair, absentmindedly drying your hair while texting. Your feet spin yourself around, as you send a final message to Ness before tossing your phone onto your bed.

You're concerned regarding the project, you ditched the gathering and are quite certain Ness wants you dead and has convinced the rest of the group the same. You've the faintest clue on the overall quality of the assignment, but at least you know you did everything you needed.

You're really pretty too—

It's been hours since you guys bid farewell, Hyoma had a family dinner he had to attend to, while you caught the bus home. You ponder a bit, who exactly was he having dinner with? Just his household? His sister would've definitely been there too, right? What about the food? Are there any foods he doesn't like eating? Or does he eat whatever?

You're an undiscovered flower, one that the world has yet to discover and appreciate the beauty of.

Chigiri Hyoma truly is talented, from his graceful execution of his words to the way your memories with him linger within your mind. It was as if he was a character that was birthed from the pages of a romance novel, particularly with how seriously he spoke those grand words. No wonder he's grown in popularity so much since the beginning of his career. To persist in one's mind must be a gift not many possess.

You shrug it off, flipping through your textbook and opening your exercise one, focusing on your priorities for the time being.

FIFTEEN | MASTERLIST | seventeen

PAIRING. chigiri hyoma x reader

SYNOPSIS. school gets overwhelming with constant rumours and accusations, thankfully someone is willing to help. but what happens when this mutually beneficial agreement escalates into something more?

GENRE. social media au, fake dating, idol / actor au

TAGLIST. @saesins, @punkhazardlaw, @silly-ez, @y-sabell-a, @mellozhi, @luvlunazx, @oldest-dream-pdf, @misfits1a, @hoshithinker, @livelaughloveisagiyoichi, @mave-in, @rinsie, @luvcryo, @fabitheraven, @h3xi2g0n3, @yuzurins, @ch3nyan, @jammiycge, @jocynotcute

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rafesfavoritegirl · 25 days ago

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where currents collide

chapter 1: riptide

𓂃⋆.˚ Being John B’s sister came with its challenges. After their father’s death, he became overly protective of Viv. Sharing the same group of friends—the Pogues—meant navigating its own complications. Among them, Viv and JJ flirted, though neither had put a label it. Tensions ran high when John B forbade Viv from joining the Pogues at a party. As Viv struggled with being controlled, JJ tried to mediate, but his efforts only made things worse, leaving Viv feeling frustrated. Through anger, Viv finds comfort in a shocking source.

word count 1.4k

Content Warning: Mentions of loss (death of a parent), sibling protection dynamics, light flirtation, mild language, tension/family conflict. Trigger Warning: Protective behavior, emotional tension, and confrontation.

chapter 1: riptide

As I feel the sensation of the warm summer breeze delicately hitting my skin, I tune out the outside noise causing me to only hear ‘Champagne Coast’ blasting in my ears. I came to a silent agreement with myself that I had never been more at peace in my life.

However, that didn’t last long.

The sun blurs my vision as I look up, and I see a shadowed figure standing before me, none other than Jj Maybank. He tries to speak, but all I hear are muffled sounds through my headphones. As he continues talking, he motions for me to take one earbud out. I don’t immediately respond, and he misinterprets my silence as ignoring him. With a frustrated sigh, he yanks one of my old, worn-out wired headphones from my ear. I look up at the soaking blonde-haired boy, his abs glistening in the scorching sun catching my attention, but I swiftly redirect my focus back up to his eyes. I thought I got away with admiring the view of him but I was mistaken.

“Viv, My eyes aren’t down here”, JJ says, giving a soft chuckle while peering down towards his abs. I look at him and scoff at his witty yet flirtatious remark and decide to respond as equals to him, “They might as well be.”

JJ, not expecting me to respond with such unwavering confidence, this creates a rush of heat to spread throughout his face, it was so slight, the others would have mistaken it for a sunburn, but I knew better. "Easy there, Viv. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you’re into me." he countered. This resulted in him forgetting what he originally came to ask me. “So what do you need?” I questioned, to break the silence that had fallen.

“Uhh- yeah…right! A bunch of us are going surfing in a couple, You coming with?” The slight tone in his voice indicated that he wanted me to go. I playfully chuckled at his cute attempt to invite me to go surfing, “Is that even a question?” I shoved my phone into the bottom of my beach bag, signaling that I was ready for him to lead the way toward the vast blue ocean that awaited us.

༄ ༄ ༄

As we loaded up the Twinkie with our beach gear, I made my way to the back of the van. Dramatically, I flopped down across two seats, letting out an exasperated sigh at the thought of all the activities that we had just accomplished today. While John B was strapping the surfboards to the top of the Twinkie, Topper and his friends drove by. I sat in the van, waiting for everyone to finish up, John B climbed into the driver's seat, venting to Pope about how much he hated Topper. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel in frustration, and the van fell into an uneasy silence. John B, clearly unable to make sense of the interaction that had just unfolded between him and the Kook, broke the silence with a determined remark, saying, “Guys I swear we are crashing that figure 8 party tonight. Topper is gonna pay for whatever the fuck hes been saying.” Sarah chiming in as a rebuttal saying, “John B leave it alone, he's not worth it.” JJ interrupting the both of them going back and forth, “I’m with you on that John B.” This left John B frustrated as he drove us back to our house.

As the sun sets, excitement surges through me at the thought of crashing the Figure 8 party. I picture the Kooks' reactions when we confront Topper, and the chaos that will follow. Exhausted from the day, I stumble into my room, toss my things onto the bed, and head straight to the closet. After digging through my options, I finally settled on an outfit. Grabbing a towel, I make my way to the bathroom and step into the shower. The warm spray hits my skin, and I hear the faint hum of voices from the living room—laughter and chatter as the Pogues cook after a long day at the beach. The air is thick with salt, but inside it is warm, cozy, and familiar. The sounds of cooking and laughter mix with the rhythm of the water, offering a peaceful contrast to the day’s chaos.

Once I'm clean and dressed, I make my way to the living room and sink into the couch with the rest of the Pogues. The air is filled with the easy hum of their random chatter, the kind of conversation that meanders from topic to topic without much care. I grab the cheese burger John B had made for everyone, still warm and comforting in my hands, and take a bite. The flavor mingles with the relaxed atmosphere—familiar, like a moment pulled straight from a summer film. I eat absentmindedly, letting the laughter and casual talk wash over me, feeling right at home among the chaos. My thoughts drift until Pope's voice pulls me back to reality. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says. “What do you think, Viv?”

I don’t catch his words the first time, still lost in my own head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask, snapping back to attention.

Pope exhales and repeats himself. “Crashing the kooks' party? I mean... I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I give him a look, like he's grown three heads. "Are you crazy? I think that’s the best idea John B’s ever had," I say, shaking my head.

Pope and I continue to argue playfully, our voices rising as we dig in our heels over whatever the debate is this time. That's when John B, who’s been quietly listening from the sidelines, overhears. He pops his head around the corner and throws me a grin, stepping into the conversation with that familiar swagger. "Who said you were goin'?" he asks, directing the question right at me, his tone a mix of mock and surprise. I laugh, thinking he's just messing around. But John B glances around, his expression serious, and gives me a look that makes it clear he is not joking. "I'm serious, Viv. You're not going,", he restates.

The room falls into an awkward silence at John B's stern comment, exchanging uncertain glances. No one laughs, and the tension lingers, thick and uncomfortable. I take a long look at John B before replying, my tone flat. "Really?"

"John B, what are you talking about?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, though there is an edge to it. "Of course I’m going. I don’t need anyone telling me what I can or can’t do."

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, his eyes unwavering. "You’re not gonna be a part of this. It’s too dangerous."

I glared at him, my mind racing. "Dangerous? What the hell are you talking about? We’ve been through worse."

"Not like this," he says, voice low. "This is different. And I’m not lettin’ you walk into it."

For a moment, I stood there, my chest tight with a mix of anger and concern. I know he is looking out for me, but it feels like he is taking all my choices away.

"John B, You can’t protect me from everything. I’m not some fragile thing."

The room hung in an uneasy silence, until Jj broke it with a soft tone, trying to ease the tension. "As much as I hate to say it," he said, glancing at John B, "he's got a point, Viv."

I turned to Jj, my voice serious and tinged with disappointment. "You can't be serious, Jayj."

I decided to wait for Jj to respond. I shot him a look and stormed off to my room, slamming the door behind me. The others in the living room murmured about it, but Jj stayed quiet, still processing. He finally got up to follow me and knocked on the door, but before he could, I yanked it open, jacket in hand, ready to leave. "Viv, just calm down" he called, stepping in front of me, but I shoved him aside—not violently, but enough to make him step back. Jj quickly stepped in, grabbing in an attempt to restrain me. “Can you fucking not,” I shouted.

“Can you just listen for one moment! If I’m the one mediating, we reached rock bottom.”, Jj said in a stricken tone. I could tell he was attempting to make things right, that he just wanted me to listen. But I was tired—exhausted, really—from everyone constantly telling me what to do.

Follow the wattpad, this fanfic will be posted consecutively every week with new chapters! : https://www.wattpad.com/user/rafesfavoritegirl-

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helloheyhihowdyheya · 1 year ago

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Rose Thorn Blues | p. 1

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: The other Daily Bugle intern has been a thorn in your side all summer. But if you wanted the job, you'd have to work with him. And you'd do anything to get it.

Word count: ~7k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Banter. Criminal activity. Swearing. A bit of angst but not really. J. Jonah Jameson lol.

A/n: I think this'll end up being around 3 parts, but we'll see. This has been tumblin' through my mind since last year, so I'm glad to finally let it out lol. Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading <3

You used to enjoy the clear sky on a sunny day, the vibrating blue that stretched until it curved around the horizon. Used to love the way the lapping waves of the Atlantic shimmered for miles, its ripples echoing the sky’s image. The blue of the world before the sun came up, or the indigo quiet of a rainy day.

You even used to love how red the rusted bricks outlining your apartment building looked, tracing the tips of your fingers along them as you walked by, scarlet pebbles breaking off into your palm. The cherry glow of a late-night diner’s “Open” sign made the beats of your heart stutter, its lights reflecting off the glass and illuminating puddles littering the sidewalk. Even with the occasional rose you passed on your way to work, the red petals surrounded by thorns and overgrown weeds, you still leaned your nose in to smell its sweet crimson scent.

But that was before your internship at The Daily Bugle, before you had to write countless stories on Spider-Man all the time, and before you knew Peter, the other intern. Now, every cloudless day or trip to the ocean, hell, even the plump blueberries in the grocery store or a swirling glass of Merlot, an obnoxious red stoplight, or the tiniest cut exposing a drop of blood turned your stomach. You knew people could change you, but you’d never expected to hate the shades of red and blue — until you stared at it every day while standing in Parker’s shadow.

You’d shake your head, shove your fingernails into your palm, blink so hard your vision turned bright just to erase those colors from your mind and him from your thoughts. But you would have no such luck as you weaved your way through New York’s sidewalks under the summer sun, a barely-there breeze passing alongside the traffic. Your hand clutched your phone tight in its grasp.

On it held a photo of Spider-Man you’d just taken earlier that morning. He stopped a robbery, and you captured the moment he’d ripped off a car door to use as cover — a story that J. Jonah Jameson would love to spin into something ridiculous. You had nothing against the superhero, but it was what your boss wanted. The boss that would decide which intern would receive a full-time position at the end of the summer, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight against Parker.

He always had clearer photos and more information on Spider-Man — always seemed to get on the scene before you. You wouldn’t have been that upset if Parker actually was a better reporter than you, but that smug, chronically late asshole certainly wasn’t better than you. Not when you worked twice as hard just to watch him successfully stumble his way through this internship.

And that stupid shrug he gave you when Jameson chose his story over yours! He’d mutter, “Better luck next time,” as if you weren’t covering for his ass half the time. You weren’t sure why you did it anymore. Maybe you didn’t want to watch him get fired since this wasn’t an easy opportunity to get, but you definitely wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying him get chewed out by Jameson.

But that was unimportant now as you made your way into The Daily Bugle’s building, savoring the air conditioning as your breath tumbled from your mouth. This picture and the eyewitness statements you took would create a story Jameson wouldn’t think twice about choosing, especially when Parker always came in late in the mornings.

Walking through your floor’s doors, photo pulled up on your phone, you quickly dropped your bag at your desk before making your way to pitch the idea to Jameson. You’d mentally written the first half of it on your walk here already.

Your steps faltered though as you neared the office, hearing your boss’s voice echoing through the office.

“Good work, Parker. Finish it by noon, and we’ll publish it today.”

He was already here? Silently, you gritted your teeth, peering into the room. And of course, out walked Parker, one hand holding papers and the other shoved in his pocket.

“The one day you’re on time… I can’t believe this,” you quietly muttered, feeling a weight sink into your stomach. His shoulders hung casually while yours raised up and down with your breaths. His half-smile made you stare daggers into him.

He just raised an eyebrow at you. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Most people happen to love my presence.”

You silently ignored his nickname for you as you said, “Then most people must be lying to you. What story did you give him?” You pointed your head toward the office, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“So you can go in and try to one-up me?” He scoffed, his eyes annoyingly bright and warm. “No thanks.”

As he made to walk away, you grabbed his arm despite your aversion to being near him. Even the heat of his skin made you too warm, just another reason to stay away from Parker. “I lied to Jameson last week while you were off doing who-knows-what when you should’ve been working. Now what was the goddamn story?”

The sound of other employees talking and making coffee filled the background. If you could just beat him, you’d be part of them one day. So you didn’t let up, waiting for him to answer as he looked between your hand and your eyes. He shook off your touch after a moment.

You watched his jaw tick, his eyes roll to the back of his empty head. “Fine. And because I don’t think I could handle the second-hand embarrassment. I’ll tell you that if your story’s about whatever Spider-Man was up to this morning, you might want to skip telling Jameson.”

The grip on your phone loosened a bit, along with the hope you’d put into this — into trying to prove that you were a good reporter too. But, of course, you were always stuck finding stories on Spider-Man, and too late with them anyway. Anything else wasn’t important news, not at this company.

You tried, and failed, to keep your frustration from your voice as you asked, “And how did you get here before me with that story? You’re literally never here on time and just always have some bullshit idea that’s barely a story.”

Parker just gave a short laugh, smirking at you. “And yet… I still beat you. Kinda stings, huh?”

You gave a grumbled “Piss off” before letting him walk past you this time. You filled up your water bottle, headed to the bathroom, made small talk with some woman you’d immediately forgotten the name of — all distractions so you didn’t have to go back to the desk that sat much too close to Parker, especially while he worked on the story that should’ve been yours.

When you finally returned, you refused to look at a particular person across from you — the two intern desks only separated by a half wall. You just fished out your headphones at the cheap desk with no air conditioning under the city’s hot summer.

A much-needed break from Spider-Man you gave to yourself, you continued working on a story you started researching last week. You’d gathered some statements and data about new unsafe water conditions in certain parts of the city. The story wouldn’t star on the front page of the website, or even the second. Third, if you were lucky.

The morning passed with minimal shouting coming from Jameson’s office and just a few “friendly” follow-up emails with sources you hadn’t heard back from. In the brief moments of silence between the end of one song and the beginning of another, you listened to traffic flowing through the streets below and the droning sounds of keyboards and the printer.

Only once you finished up the first draft of your article and turned to grab your notebook from a drawer did you notice a sticky note plastered on the edge of your desk. In messy handwriting, it said, “You type like a child bangs their fists on a piano” followed by a doodle of the sun, with sunglasses.

It wasn’t difficult to tell whose horrible scribbling this was. So after writing “Eat shit <3” on the back, you crumpled it up. You tossed it right at Parker’s face as you stood up, going to a meeting with one of the full-time writers here. Instead of knowing he caught it like always, you pretended it hit him right in the eye and gave him a papercut.

You didn’t look back as you approached Alice’s desk, the lead writer of the office. Her black curls bounced as she lifted her head, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“Yes, and thank you again for meeting with me,” you said, nodding with your notebook under your arm. She stood up, motioning you toward an empty office for the informational interview — mostly just asking her about her career in hopes it could help yours.

Sitting across from one another, you took notes as she spoke about herself and answered your many questions. Your writing filled one page after another, your wrist becoming sore but ignored under the weight of knowing this information could be important. When you asked what advice she would give to someone just starting out as a reporter, the silence that followed made you finally lift your head.

Alice looked at you with a soft smile while your pen stalled. “I would tell them that it’s not an easy career. And that it’s not for those without passion. You have to want this — and show it. The stories out there you want to tell… you can’t be afraid to search out the truth. ‘Leaving well enough alone’ has never been in my vocabulary.”

Your unfocused stare stayed on her while you processed those words… and the worry that you weren’t cut out for this work. There were stories you wanted to tell, but you couldn’t find the place to tell them. A cynical part of your mind shouted that maybe Parker did deserve the job at the end of this internship more than you.

The thoughts must have been evident on your face because Alice spoke again, her voice calm but stern. “Don’t worry. I see the passion in you. The best advice is to not let Jameson or anyone else stop you. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, unable to stop the smile on your face. So caught up in her words, you wrote down a condensed version of her answer: Follow your heart. Your thumb rubbed over the dried ink of the page, feeling the ridges of each letter. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll keep trying,” you said, and meant it.

She let out a light laugh, the sound loosening the tight muscles in your shoulders. “You better. I’ve been rooting for you to get the job,” she whispered, giving a wink that had you laughing too.

“Well I can’t let you down then, can I?” Letting your smile fall just a little, the curve of it no longer touching your eyes, you silently hoped that you wouldn’t disappoint her. Thanking Alice again, you made your way back to your desk with too many thoughts running through your head.

Slow moments passed as you returned to your chair, the cheap thing squeaking underneath you with each movement. Still, you closed your eyes for a second, just feeling the cushion beneath you, the armrests under your hands, the backrest keeping you from collapsing. A breath filled your lungs, chest rising inch by inch. You would not wait for anyone’s permission to change the world — even if that just meant ignoring your lying thoughts to change your own little world.

Slowly, you went back through your notes, adding bits here and there that you missed while Alice had spoken. At the bottom, you just underlined her final advice… letting the words bleed into your body as you promised to keep them at the center of your stories.

It kept you focused on your article surrounding unsafe water quality in the city. Thankfully, the hours passed quickly, and you got the article up on the site by the end of the day. All with minimal interruptions from Parker — despite another sticky note that said “Thanks for the granola bar ;)” on it. And sure enough, the granola bar you had on your desk was no longer there, but you silently tossed the note in the garbage without letting him know he got to you.

Though, with no snack, your stomach was definitely grumbling as you packed up. So you made the trek to a cafe with your backpack on, one headphone in, and a middle finger aimed toward Parker when he tried talking to you, a smirk plastered on his face that told you he had nothing important or nice to say.

The summer heat hit you as you exited the building, making you strip off your office-appropriate blazer. Still, you didn’t mind the sunlight after spending all day inside. Your music drifted into your ear, the beat of it matching your steps. You turned the volume down once making it into the bakery with the best after-work treat, the pink sign outside painted with cursive words: “Pat’s Pastries.”

Baked bread and sweet chocolate filled your nose, the smell helping you forget about work for a minute. You ordered your favorite cookie, pointing to the biggest one behind the glass. Silently, you ignored the whole tray of Spider-Man themed cookies they’d begun selling after the superhero saved the store from a robbery.

Instead, you just left the shop with a bite of the cookie already in your mouth. It practically melted on your tongue, tasting better than any granola bar Parker could steal from you. The cookie lasted you all the way home, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

In your apartment, you stood in the entryway for a moment. With slow movements, you removed your shoes, setting down all of your things. You’d only been collapsed on your couch for a few minutes before your phone vibrated. Part of you thought to ignore it and let the weight of your heavy eyelids drag you into a nap, but you knew it could be work. A groan came from your throat as you saw that it was work — a comment left on your article already.

People that commented on these pieces often had few nice things to say, so you braced yourself upon opening the site. Your thumb slid across the screen until you reached the bottom. Left by some guest user, the comment simply read: “What’s new? Beaumont fumbles again…”

Beaumont. Ellis Beaumont, the current city manager. He’d certainly faced as much backlash as any other official since he’d taken over five years ago, but you hadn’t considered him all that much when researching for this article. Did he have to do with poor water conditions in the city?

Before you could stop yourself, your hands went to your laptop. Your fingers typed across the keyboard, searching for relations between him and other issues the city faced recently. What came up most often was Beaumont’s press releases after most of them. His salt and pepper hair sat tightly cut to his head, no specks of dust visible on his expensive-looking suits. In each one, he stated how he and his team would work on fixing the problem — from unaffordable housing to upgrading technology throughout the city.

It wasn’t new to see a leader promise to do something and not follow through, but something kept sticking with you while you researched. At some point, between the sun falling behind the city skyline and ordering takeout to be delivered, you found yourself with dozens of open tabs and tired eyes.

Raking a hand down your face, you let out a long sigh. You finished reading another speech where he promised to fix something, crumbling infrastructure this time — “if only we had the funds!” And cue the part where he asked for donations to his nonprofit organization or proposed a government plan that would cost the citizens in tax money. Yet… hadn’t he raised the money? The last you’d checked, the street he’d mentioned repairing still had its potholes and unusable sidewalks.

A knocking on your door brought you to it, your eyes never leaving your computer screen. You just grabbed your food and paid the deliverer with a mumbled “thanks” before walking back to the laptop.

As quickly as you could, you yanked out your notebook from your bag and wrote down everything about Ellis Beaumont — before your food got cold. Your wrist ached again as you flipped the page, continuing to fill the lines with his career, his promises, and his letdowns.

Each of his projects toward bettering the city came with asking for money — money that didn’t show back up in the work. He’d made no updates as to how much he had raised or how he was going to use it. At the end of your notes, you wrote down in heavy ink: “Where is Ellis Beaumont’s money going??”

And even as you ate, trying to watch the comfort show you’d put on, your mind kept working in the background. Had others not also wondered this? Or if they had, did he have them in his pocket already? Sleep fought you that night, making you toss and turn in bed. But you had a story.

–

Walking into The Daily Bugle, you ‘clocked in’ (let Jameson see you in the office) and dropped off your bag. With just your notes, a pen, and a granola bar so no one would steal it, you made your way back out of the building.

Right before you made it from the office, though, a mop of dark hair appeared at the door. A small part of you wanted to somehow hide, the other part unable to resist the draw of him for whatever reason. But Parker chose for you, his eyes lighting up when they caught on your form. Your following scowl was enough to make him laugh.

“There she is, our lovely sunshine,” he said, leaning against the door frame. You ignored the sarcasm dripping through his words.

Instead, you raised your eyebrows and told him, “If Jameson asks, I’m out researching a story. Got it?”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Parker pushed off the frame. His smirk was enough to set you off, but then he held out a hand to block you from passing. Behind your unyielding glare, you secretly hoped he tripped over his untied shoelaces or smashed his hand in the office printer. As he came closer to you, he asked, “Where are you off to? I haven’t seen any sightings of Spider-Man.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, uninterested. Grabbing his forearm, accidentally feeling the hard muscle underneath, you moved it out of your way. “Have fun getting him coffee!” You shouted it over your shoulder, leaving him standing there while you ignored the heat on your palm from touching his skin.

You shook your hand out, waving away the memory as you took the subway over to City Hall. It had to be as good as any place to start researching where the city’s money went after Ellis Beaumont flashed a white smile and pocketed it. He probably wouldn’t talk with you, but anything to get you closer would be worth it.

Emerging from the subway station, your eyes squinted against the brightness. Still morning, the heat hadn’t settled in yet — just leaving you with a sunny walk and a nice breeze.

The building’s intimidating size rose high toward the sky. A statue of justice, a woman holding scales and a sword, stood atop City Hall — staring down at each person as you entered the front doors. The ornate architecture and grand staircase inside didn’t help settle the daunting feeling crawling in your stomach.

Still, you walked up to the man sitting behind the front desk there, trying to look as friendly as possible. Smoothing out your outfit and putting a smile on, you said, “Hi.”

He looked up with a classic customer service grin to greet you. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asked, leaning toward you slightly.

You kept your shoulders back, mustering some sort of confidence in your investigation. How would Alice do this?

With a clear voice, you directly asked, “If I was looking for records of donations for a government-related nonprofit, would they be here? I couldn’t seem to find them online.” You gave him an unassuming look.

“Typically, but what nonprofit were you looking at?” he asked, typing something into his computer. You took out your notebook low enough that he couldn’t see past the desk.

Pretending to rack your brain for the name, you said, “I think it’s called Stronger Together. I love being able to see where my donation goes — it helps make me feel closer to the community, you know?”

Your hand ready to write fell limp when his mouth pressed tight, his eyes leaving the screen to meet yours. “Ah,” he said, “Well Mr. Beaumont is not always able to update that information, as he has many responsibilities to maintain.”

“Of course, I understand. Though, I also noticed that the recent infrastructure project has yet to be enacted. Is there an update on that?” You willed your voice to stay steady, to be unwavering under the impatient gaze of this man.

A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw. “I don’t believe the organization has given one, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working on it. He is a very busy man.”

“Busy enough that I wouldn’t be able to speak with him directly?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head, but he didn’t seem too sorry at all. “We could take your number for him to call you when he’s available, but…”

“He’s very busy,” you finished, giving a smile as you bit back a pained sigh. “That’ll be okay, I’m happy to have helped the cause.”

“Yes, and we’re very thankful for your donation.” The tight grin he gave looked like it hurt his cheeks to make.

“Well, thank you for the information,” you said. Just as you were about to leave, beginning to leave with nothing to show for the story, you turned back. “I know this is quite specific, but would you know what Mr. Beaumont’s next project is?”

Another flicker of impatience flashed across the man’s face, his hands clasping together. “No, I wouldn’t, but I’m sure it will be a great help to the city whatever it is. I think there may be a nonprofit fundraiser this weekend… but those are typically closed events — for investors and friends,” he said, his smile turning less warm by the minute. “You can donate online anytime.”

“Great, thank you,” you muttered before turning around, frantically jotting the little information you received down in your notes while walking away. You swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you until you slipped out the doors.

The entire ride back to the office, this story ate away at you. Everyone seemed to be keeping information on Beaumont’s money close to their chests, even about what his supposed nonprofit was really doing.

‘Stronger Together.’ You rolled your eyes, beginning to feel like he was the only one getting stronger. And he was having another fundraiser so soon? Probably for something like conservation this time — his team would likely make a whole show of planting a couple trees and get praised for it.

As soon as you got back to The Daily Bugle, you ignored everything as you dropped into your chair and opened your computer. Your fingers flew over the keyboard to type up the notes, both for decoding your scribbled words and ensuring you kept the information in multiple places. You tried tuning out the background chatter and the gnawing worry that this whole story would lead to a dead end, but you couldn’t ignore everything…

“Whatcha typin’ there?” Parker said as he swiveled his chair around the desks to look at you. Glancing for a moment at him, you saw the shit-eating smile pointed your way.

Your face flashed a fake grin. “Your resignation letter, Parker.” You continued typing, not responding to his quiet scoff. But then he stood up, his steps gentle against the floor. He towered over you as he came around to look at your screen.

Before he could even reach your desk, you switched tabs to a blank page. Without glancing up at him, you silently waited for him to stop watching you. It worked well enough at first, your mind happily turning blank instead of entertaining him.

But he put his hand on the edge of your desk, his body now much too close to yours. The warm scent of him washing over you had your skin prickling, your fingernails pressing into your palm.

Barely heard above the blood rushing past your ears, his voice came out quieter than you’d expected. “So secretive. You won’t even share with me?”

Ignoring the glint of smugness on his face, you turned to look up at him. “So you can try to one-up me? No thanks,” you repeated, using his words from yesterday.

“But given my track record for front-page stories, I’m sure you could definitely use my help.” Parker shoved a hand in his pocket, winking at you with those stupid dark eyes. In that moment, you wondered whether you could somehow frame him for helping Spider-Man and get Jameson to tackle him.

So caught up in that happy fantasy, you didn’t catch Parker’s other hand creeping across the desk until he’d already snatched your notebook. And before you could even stand to grab it back, his leg came up and pushed on one of your desk chair’s armrests, sending it spinning.

While your legs tried stopping the chair, you heard him say, “How are you even able to read this? Okay, I won’t tell Jameson, but you’ve gotta be honest with me: do you know how to write? Or read, for that matter.”

“I was walking while taking notes– whatever, Parker. I don’t need to explain myself to your dumbass,” you whisper yelled at him, stalking over to his side of the desks. But he moved the notebook away, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin that told you just how much fun he was having, he said, “Huh, I didn’t know your pretty little head knew how to multi-task.”

You opened your mouth for a second, processing that he called you pretty, before rolling your eyes. “Must be hard to imagine anything with your smooth brain. Now give me my notebook back.”

In the background, you heard Jameson screaming to some poor soul on the phone. You hoped it at least covered up your bickering with Parker. But it wouldn’t be able to drown out the sound of you strangling him, which you were now seriously considering as he held up a finger to you.

In a calmer voice, he asked, “Are you really doing a piece on Ellis Beaumont?”

Scoffing, you reached over and grabbed your notebook from his grasp. He didn’t seem to put up much of a fight, hopefully mentally perceiving the threats running through your mind. As you returned to your desk, you glanced once more at him — and got caught on something in the look he gave you.

“Yes,” you told him before sitting down, leaving Parker and any distractions on that side of the half-wall. The last thing you heard was a sigh before you put your headphones in.

For the rest of the day, you finished writing up your notes and your other assigned work. In between projects, you secretly continued researching everything you could about Beaumont and where those donations went. Site after site returned empty, most of them just filled with propaganda for his non-profit.

With weary eyes and a fuzzy mind, you finally found something as everyone in the office began to finish up. You wiped a hand down your face, a weight lifting from your shoulders when you discovered an address.

Searching through countless websites, some of which you probably shouldn’t have been using your work computer for, you combed through records of donations to Stronger Together. Most listed City Hall or Beaumont’s address in their donation. But one other address continued popping up more than a few times — somewhere in upper Manhattan, far from where the organization would operate from.

If you were listening to Alice’s advice to follow your heart, you would’ve stayed home. Your pounding pulse yelled at you that going to check out this address after sunset was the worst idea you’d ever had.

On your walk home and all through dinner, you pushed back against the trickling fear down your spine — caused by the ice-cold voice in the corners of your mind filled with every worst-case scenario. It only grew louder as you neared the address.

You hadn’t done much field work before, or any that hadn’t just involved taking blurry pictures of Spider-Man and making New Yorkers talk to you. As you walked along the sidewalk with your shoes tapping against the cracked concrete, following the directions on your phone, you wondered whether you were cut out for this. You kept your head on a swivel and senses alert, but did you have any clue what you were going to do once you reached the building? No, not really.

You had come after dark, so breaking in certainly didn’t seem out of the question. And as much as you disliked thinking about him, knowing that Parker wouldn’t back away from this if he were here kept your legs moving.

Before long, with a warm breeze at your back, you came up to a large warehouse. It sat in a pretty empty area — one with few people around that you could see. A few street lamps illuminated the space around it, the light stretching down a small alleyway next to the building. Craning your neck, you began walking down it, seeing whether you could peer in anywhere.

Your fingers brushed along the building’s side as you passed by several dark windows. Unable to spot anything through them, you crept toward the back. No workers, or anyone really, seemed to be there. Nothing except for a metal fire escape. It seemed to lead up to a door with more windows lining either side. Fluorescent lighting shone from inside.

Swallowing hard, you forced your body to walk toward it. Each step you took up went slowly, trying to keep your feet silent as you climbed the stairs. Under the weight of the stars and night sky, even with the sounds of traffic passing by, each breath felt too loud.

Silently wishing to anyone that’d listen, you hoped no one stood on the other side as you slowly looked in. But you only found boxes — not all that surprising, but disappointment mingled with the relief coursing through your muscles.

Hundreds of boxes sat throughout the warehouse, lining countless shelves. You made a guess that they probably weren’t storing any tools for fixing the infrastructure like Beaumont promised. But you wouldn’t be able to find out what they held without breaking in, something you didn’t think your nerves could take.

Though… someone else could show you what’s inside.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a brief movement along the floor of the building. Someone moved into view, dressed in a black uniform and holding a clipboard in their hands. They walked to a shelf you could just barely see and opened up one of the boxes. They set the clipboard aside to pull out something… long and metal. At the end appeared to be a claw of some sort–

Internally, you winced, instantly able to recognize it from all your articles. It was one of Doc Ock’s arms. The other side was full of fraying wires, no doubt ripped apart from a fight with Spider-Man. God, why did everything always have to come back to Spider-Man?

And, in that moment, you must’ve pissed off some god of fate to deserve this irony. As you were about to pull out your phone to capture the evidence, your thought alone summoned the man. A web attached to the worker, the other end coming from the red and blue superhero crouched on a support beam. Within a second, he pulled them up to the ceiling and cocooned them in webbing to dangle there — the scene forcing an involuntary gasp escape your lips.

Spider-Man had jumped down with supernatural grace and looked like he was going to investigate the box further, but whipped his head toward you at your gasp. Your heart crawled into your throat, your hand snapping up to cover your mouth.

Racing down the fire escape, your scrambled thoughts tumbling around your head, you hurried back to the street away from what you’d witnessed. But before you could leave the alleyway, a flash of those dreaded shades of red and blue dropped down in front of you — your feet stumbling backward as you barely kept a startled scream from coming out.

“Hey, hey. Not here to hurt you. I do the opposite actually,” Spider-Man said, his hands up to show you he meant no harm. His voice sounded unnaturally deep, but blood rushed past your ears, clouding your senses. You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on getting out of there.

“But uh…” he continued, cautiously taking a single step closer, “I don’t think you live at this address. Is that right?”

You absentmindedly chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating on how much to tell him. He’d caught you sneaking around, but was that technically even a crime? Most likely. But clearly, you both were after some pretty similar things. So, while nodding your head toward the warehouse, you quietly asked, “What’s in there?”

His head tilted to the side as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Some no-no things. Which is probably why I should handle it, right?”

“Handle it how? By handing it over to the police?” you asked, a small jolt of panic rising in your chest. “What if it connects to something larger?” Your questions assumed that he didn’t exactly know where this warehouse came from and how it connected to Beaumont, but maybe not. Still, you couldn’t risk cutting this whole thing off early and breaking the investigation apart… and the story.

“Does it connect to something larger?” he asked, his gaze never seeming to leave you. You couldn’t tell much behind his mask, but the weight of those white eyes stayed focused on your face. They watched every microexpression crossing your face, despite the urge to hide from them.

Knowing you needed him on your side, or at least to not cover you in webs, you gave him a little more. Nodding, you said “Yeah, I think it does. I’m not sure how it all fits, but…”

“But?”

Pursing your lips, you let a breath pass before answering him. Jameson would kill you if he knew you were having this whole conversation without taking ‘photographic evidence’ and helping out Spider-Man. But that man was a prick anyway.

Letting out a long sigh, you said, “Check out Ellis Beaumont’s non-profit. I don’t think the donations are going where he says they are.”

He just cocked his head, but you moved around him, ready to leave this place and those watchful eyes. Your gaze avoided his as he let you pass toward the street, though he yelled out, “Do you need me to walk you home?” You just waved him off, your pace picking up. Still, he shouted a “Thank you!” for the information as you made the journey back to your apartment.

Unable to calm your body back to normal just yet, you found yourself jumping at every noise around you until your apartment door locked behind you. What you’d seen ran through your head again and again.

What did Beaumont want with Spider-Man? Or was he working with the villains to get rid of Spider-Man? His money couldn’t just be going toward costume dress-up storage, but breaking into that warehouse alone was out of the question for you. Leave it to the superhero rather than risk your neck.

Your brain racked itself for answers, working to figure out what interest Spider-Man had in showing up at that warehouse anyway. Even into the next morning, these thoughts plagued your mind. It left you in a haze as you entered The Daily Bugle — the noise of the coffee machine and Jameson’s muffled yelling more distracting than usual.

Even more offputting was that sat at your desks was Parker, the second time he’d ever beaten you into the office. Immediately, his eyes found yours, but you didn’t have the energy to give him a sneer or a smart-ass comment. You just started up your computer, planning to type up your notes again. Your hand rubbed down your face as you waited for it to turn on, already anticipating the inevitable interruption.

Sure enough, Parker stuck his head over the half-wall, leaning his forearms along the top of it. His chin rested on them as he said, “You look rough.”

Without raising your eyes to him, you let out a long sigh. “Wow… Thanks,” you said, letting an unimpressed look take over your face. You opened your notebook, turning to the pages where you wrote every piece of information you could remember after the events last night.

Parker raised his hands up in surrender, as if he hadn’t insulted your appearance. “Jus’ saying, you seem a bit stressed. Need any help, sunshine?”

At that, you finally raised your gaze to meet his — his ruffled hair dipping over his forehead while waiting for your response.

You squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing at his words. “...I’m not letting you take this story from me, Parker.”

“Hey, I could merely co-author this story with you,” he offered with that smirk of his. “And I’m sick of writing about Spider-Man’s favorite restaurants to order from. C’mon.” He dragged out the word, practically begging you.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you considered him for a moment and his offer. His mouth tightened, drawing your gaze down to his lips and the sharpness of his jaw. Not the time.

“You really want to help me?” When he nodded, you still didn’t believe him. With a scoff, you asked, “Are you going soft on me?”

A sharp laugh escaped his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. This would cost you a week’s worth of granola bars.”

“Aren’t you the one asking to join?” you questioned with a smile you couldn’t hide. When he didn’t budge despite his ridiculous demand, you just muttered, “I’ll think about it.”

The long groan he gave as he sat back down told you how he felt about your answer, but it was easier to ignore now that he wasn’t staring at you. Why he was so interested in this story made no sense to you — not that you thought about it long as you finally typed up your notes.

Instead, you tried to figure out where to go next, where this warehouse might lead you. But a growing fear told you that it wouldn’t lead anywhere, your research online not giving you someone to question or even contact information for Beaumont. This politician seemed to keep things annoyingly tight under wraps.

As minutes slipped away while you ran into dead end after dead end in your searching, you internally debated whether to accept Parker’s help. Waves crashed in your stomach, the tide receding far away as if in anticipation of a tsunami — one threatening to destroy you. Letting him in meant risking your story, and risking the chance that he could get all the credit for your work.

As much as you hated the idea of sharing this with him, part of you thought you might’ve been in over your head. Especially after the run-in last night. And Parker certainly knew his stuff… sometimes. Not that you’d tell him that.

It was only once your search about Beaumont and that warehouse frustratingly turned up blank once more that you let out a sigh. It seemed it’d be a story with him or no story at all.

“Parker?” you called across the desks.

The sound of his chair shifting joined his raspy, “Yeah?” You bit back a grin as you realized you’d woken him up from one of his frequent work naps. When he swiveled into view, the red spot on his cheek from where he must’ve laid it on his arms confirmed your suspicions.

Still, you had to clear your tight throat before telling him, “You can help. But only if my name goes first, got it?” Before he could respond, you followed with, “And I take the lead on things, okay?” Your stare pierced his eyes, silently begging him to not take this from you.

The small laugh he gave loosened your tense shoulders just a bit, made your fists unclench. “Whatever you say goes…” he said, nodding with the most honest look you’d seen from him. “With some exceptions though. Cause you have a lot of bad ideas I’d like to veto.”

You wondered whether asking for Peter Parker’s help was one of those terrible, idiotic ideas. You hoped not.

@reidslovely

#peter parker #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker enemies to lovers #andrew garfield #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader

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lipstickghoulie · 11 months ago

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💝Games of Love and Chance💘

Here’s a story that I wrote for Creative Corner’s Valentine’s Day exchange for the wonderful @carooosa! This was based on their ADHD Tav, which if you haven’t read about before, you can find them HERE! This is SFW for once so no warnings needed. Thanks for letting me walk around in your world for this one, Roo. 💌

(Astarion/gender neutral tiefling Tav, 1756 words, fluff, SFW)

Three months. Three months of what felt like near-bliss since defeating the netherbrain. Without the looming threat of ceremorphosis looming over you both, it felt like you and Astarion could finally breath. Yes, maybe you had been pressured a bit by any of the dukes still left standing into helping restore the city and help clear some of the rubble but you didn’t mind overly much (though Astarion complained grumpily about how your kind nature always led him along with you into these situations since he was your partner). This period of assisting with the rebuilding was relaxing in its own way and gave you both the opportunity to spend time together without the pressures of your adventures weighing you down.

You were already easily distracted enough on the best of days and it was nice to get to know Astarion better as you spent your nights together without the ultimate distraction of death being an ever-present shadow in your mind.

You found out that he was a lot harder to get up from his bed after a trance than he had been on the road, always grabbing at you with demanding fingers that tried to roll you underneath him like the world’s most squawking and squirming body pillow in an attempt to stop you from trying to get him out from under his massive pile of blankets.

You discovered that he was fond of embroidering whimsical designs into your clothing any time that you were apart; sprawling little cats across the collars of your shirts or fluttering moths edging the ankles of your breeches. It was true that he had stolen the thread from some oblivious merchant but you didn’t do much more about it than roll your eyes since you had no interest in changing his ways. Your love for him was true and unwavering even with his more criminal pastimes and at least he wasn’t actively stabbing someone so… you had to be grateful for small favors, at least. It was a sweet gesture on Astarion’s part all the same.

Since this was one of the few occasions that you were able to make your apologetic excuses to those temporarily running the city to get a break from the restoration efforts and have some time to yourselves, somehow you had both arrived on the idea of a nice, peaceful date at the summer street carnival. Astarion had never been able to enjoy one before since it was always a prime time where Cazador would expect his spawn to nab as many drunken victims as possible so this would be fun for him to actually experience it without any expectations, right? Maybe spend some time walking hand in hand, watch some fireworks…

Or it would have been peaceful if the vampire spawn hadn’t spotted a ramshackle display soon upon entering the block cordoned off for the event, the kobold barker perched on crates behind the counter proclaiming in a loud bray, “Come on, come on, don’t be shy, win your sweetheart a prize! Get the ball in the cup one time, couldn’t be easier, right? Three balls for a gold piece! It’s prize time, play now!”

Curious, you peered over to the display of possible rewards, a collection of stuffed animals stacked high behind the employee in a haphazard way that fortunately didn’t take away from their cuteness.

“Oh, adorable! They have one that looks like a cat!” You chirped with enthusiasm, rocking back on your heels as your eyes landed on a round, squishy ball with ears towards the front of the pile that did resemble a feline, if you squinted. Considering that it was probably constructed by the clumsy hands of the kobold running the game, you half expected Astarion to just pull you along and tell you that he’d sew you something better later on at home. But when you glanced over at him, his face was studying yours and there was something soft in his eyes before it darted away like a startled rabbit.

Astarion scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked at you, a confident smirk stretching across his lips and showing a tip of fang that gleamed under the moonlight. His more sarcastic and airy demeanor back like someone yanking a curtain shut. “Easy. I’ll win you that toy in a few moments flat, you can shower me with praise and we can carry on with our quaint night about town.”

…Something else that you soon learned about your beloved was that he was absolutely dogshit at carnival games. You watched with a pained but encouraging smile as Astarion tried to throw the leather wrapped ball into the ceramic cup about ten feet away for about the thirtieth time, the ball bouncing cheerfully off the rim of the cup and spinning off onto the ground. The kobold wisely didn’t comment and didn’t make eye contact as Astarion hurriedly dug through his coin purse and slammed yet another gold piece down on the aged wood, snatching more balls out of the barker’s clawed grip.

“By the Nine Hells, this game is rigged,” Astarion hissed, rolling up the sleeves of his doublet in pure rage and consternation. A few silvery-white curls clung to his forehead where it shone with a damp sweat and his ear tips were pink where they poked out of his hair with both irritation and embarrassment. “I am the best rogue in the Gate, we saved the bloody world and you’re telling me that I can’t get a ball in a cup?! Impossible-“

Astarion paused in his tirade to try again to toss a ball, as if trying to catch the game off-guard in a sneak attack. It went wide and landed about a foot away from the cup, not touching it at all.

Your tail twitched behind you in secondhand embarrassment as the silence stretched on as you, Astarion and the kobold all stared at where it had landed for a few beats.

“…There is something illegal going on here and you will pay for it. I could kill a fly with an arrow with my eyes closed and I can’t make this shot with a hunk of animal skin? I don’t believe it,” Astarion threatened the carnival employee through gritted teeth, the remaining balls rubbing against each other hard enough in his vice grip that they squeaked.

Sighing, you gently put your palm on his forearm and pulled Astarion away, hopefully out of earshot of anyone else.

“I don’t care that much about the silly prize, I’d rather we just go on with our date,” You told him quietly, eyes as beseeching as could be. “I can’t stand seeing you this worked up on my account.”

“I’m not worked up, darling, it’s just…” Astarion hesitated, his tone softened and some of the irritable defensiveness leeched out of the hard set of his shoulders. “You do so much for everyone else, this whole damn city… for me. I wanted to do something for you, even if it was simply making sure that you get the world’s most hideous cat toy if you wanted it.”

Your heart felt like it might burst. Astarion always found some new way to surprise you and this was no exception. It’s not that you didn’t think he cared for you! He did show his love for you in his own way at every opportunity that he could. But rather, sometimes it was enough to make you cry that someone cared enough about what you wanted at all that they would inconvenience themselves to make sure you got it. You were so used to putting others first your whole life that any instance of someone doing the same for you was enough to nearly make you choke up to think about it.

After a few barely concealed sniffles, a thought occurred to you. Perking up, you said, “Wait, so you want me to get the prize but you don’t care how I get it, right? As long as I get what I wanted?”

Raising one of his perfectly manicured eyebrows, Astarion drawled out, “Yes, Tav, though I do think it’s a bit far away to steal without some effort.”

You shook your head at Astarion in fond exasperation, taking the balls out of his cool hands without another word. Stepping over to the counter, your hand as quick and certain as a monk’s fist in an unarmed strike, you lobbed one of the leather orbs towards the cup. It flew in without even touching the sides, as if it was guided in with divine intervention. Astarion started to sputter at your side but you still had one left to throw, landing it with the same easy precision as the first.

The kobold operating the stand let out a deafening sigh of relief, scrambling to grab two of the cat plushes and shoving them into your hands, beyond eager to get rid of you both before Astarion had another volatile outburst in his direction. The scaly creature rattled off at you, “Yes, yes, you won, two balls in cup, two prizes. Take your person out of here! Please and thank you, good bye.”

Taking the cue to leave, you grabbed your rewards cheerfully and pressed one into Astarion’s arms as you cradled your own.

“There! Now both of us should be happy! And look, they match!” You beamed at Astarion as you walked along once more, badly sewn cats in hand.

You saw his still baffled and borderline sore-loser pout still marring his lips so you nudged him playfully with your shoulder, explaining, “When I was a kid, I used to go wild at those games. I’d clear them out of their prizes to the point that they’d have posters up barring me from playing. I guess I still haven’t lost my touch.”

After a few more seconds of broody contemplation, Astarion chuckled and looked down at the plush in his grasp, his formerly bad mood breaking away under the light of your better one. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He murmured as he leaned forward to land a kiss where your jaw curved towards your ear, a spot that never failed to make you shiver. Victorious in accomplishing getting a reaction out of you even if he couldn’t win at a game, Astarion was ready to continue his outing with you.

And if the stuffed cats you won were frequently seen amongst Astarion’s mountain of pillows from then on, well… you were kind enough not to tease him about it.

#my fanfiction #my writing #astarion fanfic #astarion x gender neutral reader #ADHD Tav #gift fic #creative corner #creative corner prompts #astarion fluff #astarion fanfiction #astarion bg3

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ifuckingloveryoshu · 17 days ago

Note

have you seen this fan mv for ryōshū? it's absolutely gorgeous and tore my heart out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NR993znfi-0

anyways: i am so hyped and also scared for canto ix... i have so many horrible headcanons and theories about what could be the truth and i'm pretty sure whatever pm comes up with is going to devastate me even worse

Id love to hear your horrible head cannons and theories! I'm very curious! Just say if you don't want me to comment on them or if I do, ill be nice. No judging too critically here if it's explicitly not wanted.

I love that video. I had a break down because of that video before. A friend sent it to me and then I chucked it into my music playlist. While I was working on something, I suddenly hear the song play and then I had to stop everything I was doing.

That was the start of last month, I was curled up and crying. I am personally too emotional because from the the title alone, that how mourning feels, at least in my life. "condolences, and then life goes on" and that needs to be bottled in. Busisness as usual. I have't experinced a lot of physical actual deaths of people. What i've expericed were deaths of relationships in the sense but it would feel unsympathetic to relate those to actual live people death.

This song is an active cogno-hazard to my head. If I ever play this whole video while watching it in its entirety, I will distort every time without fail.

I get personal under the cut talking about a recent death experince this year. Not related to Ryoshu. Again, thank you so much for the ask! I am also horrified for for canto ix once it happens.

The only time in my life that my perspective on mourning and death was altered a little was this spring or summer actually when I went to Florida to see the state of one of my aunts. She was in critical condition already and we knew she needed support. First day was fine, she was just unconcious with a hospital bed in the middle of her house. The past days before, she was fully concious and still talking. So, next day at night, there was an emergency and she was choking I think? Something happened with and her family surrounded her bed. She was quiet until in one second, her body started convulging and her eyes shot wide open, then she stopped moving all together. Her daughter wept and the men solemnly hung their heads. I felt like an outsider but we weren't expecting her to die so soon on our second day there. We were already on the phone with the EMT and it was in the middle of being instructed to get some sort of white box with something to inject. We found out nothing could have saved my aunt because the canser had already been affect her body, whatever was in that box was likely to spare us the abrupt jolt of her body.

Anyways, the days after, I kind of experinced how normal families mourn, and there was a great synchrony in that family even after the death. Maybe it helped that no one was working but they were united even after the death on the days of quickly scrambling to plan a funneral. There was love there and a feeling of keeping united. A meaning to the words "Death can bring people closer together.' right in front of my eyes. But that connection was there before, it was only strenghtened and I was a little jelous for their unspoken trust towards each other.

That connectivity was abscent when either of my grandparents died. They were just dead, we planned the funneral, had the funeral, that was over. Back to living. The lulled on more messured like a legato stanza because the family, even through the death and planning of the funeral stayed connected.

Im being over dramatic because when anyone else in the family dies, mostly my dad's side, its the funneral, eat food, that's all. Condolences, and then life goes on, an impersonal affair but we need to wrap things up.

I swear that and know this will absolutly change my thought process once I experince the death of someone actually close to me. It may happen sooner than I know it, I'm reminded of that every single day for better or for worse. Thank you if you've read this.

#asks #metaposting #metapost #aaaaaaaa that video #thank you for the ask!

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miumura · 1 year ago

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— [ announcement ]

these posts are never good but anyways! i’ve been thinking about this for the past few days or so and finally decided. i will be going on an indefinite / semi hiatus! with my summer break almost ending, i think i really should stop wasting it and actually get a break. at the moment, my mental health isn’t really at its best. and its kind of hard to pretend you’re okay online which is why i think i need to distance myself just to reflect. im starting to take care of myself a bit more, which is something i wish to continue.

and i just think being on blr for a while only puts pressure on me to post when it shouldn’t be. but that doesn’t mean i’ll stop posting though as i really do enjoy being on here. its js that i’ve been neglecting my own needs js to write. so this break is something i really need so i can not worry abt posting smth and js write whenever i can.

my hiatus won’t be that long (i hope it won’t be). i would probably be active on some other socials (in like dms) but don’t 100% expect a reply ykwim

love error may be updated as its an smau i want to finish quickly for you guys. and reqs + inbox will still be open, it will just take a little longer. but once im back ill try to work on them asap!

thank you so much for reading and for any creators (and readers) on blr, don’t forget to prioritize your health. please get lots of rest bc ur needs do matter! sometimes, taking a break is what you might need. so that is all :) byebye for now 🫶

#🩰 — announcements !

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astridhollow · 1 year ago

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— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

✧ feat: kita shinsuke x you (as aeris)

✧ wc: 2.27k (approx)

✧ note: this is my first time writing in a while, and my first time writing another pov besides 2nd person so please bare with me also i didn’t proof read this >-<

It was summer yet again and even though it’s the time when students take a break, Kita was still following his own strict routine. Kita was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for his grandma and himself.

The sun is shining through the windows with the soft singing of the birds. While waiting for the food to cook, Shinsuke also began to brew some coffee for himself and some tea for his grandmother.

“Ah Shinsuke, you awoke before me.” Yumie spoke and giggled. Kita, who heard his grandma, took a pause from what he was doing and went to Yumie, helping her to sit down at their dining area.

“Good morning grandma, breakfast is almost done.” he said with a soft smile.

“Thank you Shin.” A few minutes later the food was done and they began to eat. “So Shin, tell me, do you plan on doing anything this summer? I mean I wouldn’t want to waste your summer days just helping around the house and our farm..”

There was a pause before Kita answered, “I mean my friends and I plan to play some volleyball this Saturday.”

“And besides that?”

It was just silence as Kita and Yumie looked at each other. “Oh come on Shin don’t waste your youthful days, it’s been a while since your last date hasn’t it?”

“Oh gran, don’t tell me you’re implying that..”

She just smiled as she finished eating her meal. “It will never hurt to try once more, Shin! Oh how I miss the old days with your grandpa..” she smiles at the thought.

He shakes his head and laughs softly and he starts to clean the table, he says to himself in his head, ‘It wouldn’t hurt to try.. right?’ .

The days flew by pretty quick, in a blink of an eye it was already time to meet up with his friends. “I’m off now, gran, just call me if anything happens.” He smiles and grabs his bag and he leaves.

As per usual Kita was the first one to arrive at their meeting place, which was a public beach in their area. He finds a place to sit down while waiting for the others. He spots a bench which he then walks over to and takes a seat.

Kita scrolls on his phone and suddenly he feels someone sit down next to him. He looked up from his device and he wasn’t expecting to see such beautiful eyes and just a beautiful face in general. He can’t seem to break eye contact as if he’s been captured just by her gaze.

The girl speaks first, “Hi there! You seem to be waiting for someone?” she asked with a bright smile on her face. She was wearing a flowy white dress and a flower on one side of her ear.

Kita wasn’t one to smile around others but he couldn't help the corner of his lips lifting when her smile was so infectious. “Hello, and yes I am, my friends and I are going to play volleyball.”

“Oohh that seems like it’s fun, I’m not really active though.” she said as she put her hand on her neck giggling, “Oh by the way I’m Aeris!” the girl put out her hand for him.

Kita looks at her outstretched hand and back to her face, “I’m Kita Shinsuke.” a small smile crept its way to his features. ‘Her hand feels a bit cool compared to her personality and energy..’

“Ooh I love your name, It’s pretty! Just like you!” she exclaimed and gave him a closed eye smile. A blush appears on the man’s face at her compliment.

The pair talked for a few moments before Aeris spotted a group of teenage boys were about to approach them, “Well it seems like your friends are here Shinsuke, it was nice talking to you! Hope to see you around!” she offered one last smile and a wave before walking away. Kita’s heart seems to feel content with their small but genuine interaction.

“Kita-san!” He looked up and he saw his juniors walking towards the bench he was sitting on. He stood up to go up to them. They said their greetings to each other, but the girl from earlier still occupied his mind.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Your mind seems to be occupied, Shin..”

“It’s nothing gran..” he replied as they cleaned the house together.

“I’ve known you since you were young Shinsuke, what’s on your mind?”

He thought to himself, thinking about what to say to his grandma, yet one thing still wanders in his mind. “I encountered a sweet girl at the beach while waiting for the others.. And I find her personality rather admirable.”

Yumie was in pure shock at what her grandson spewed but she was so happy at the same time. She held both of Kita’s hands and said, “Oh Shin I’m so happy!”

“Gran, It’s nothing really, just a small interaction with a lovely lady..”

“I doubt that it’s nothing more than that, but if that’s how you see it for now then sure.” she giggled, many thoughts already in her head.

His grandma’s words stuck with him till bed as well as Aeris. He couldn’t help but wish for their next encounter to come soon.

𓆩♡𓆪

The God’s seem to be in favour of Shinsuke because he finds the familiar beautiful face when he was running an errand at the farmers market. She was wearing yet another dress but it was shorter this time, it had a pastel yellow plaid pattern. She was wearing sandals and her hair was in a loose ponytail with flowers that covered her hair tie. Shinsuke can’t help but admire the female as she does her own mundane tasks.

The said female felt a pair of eyes on her to which she turned her head to look for whose eyes it was, and then she saw the pretty man she met at the beach the other day. To that she smiled and offered a small wave.

The male was embarrassed from being caught admiring such a beautiful girl. But he was quick to reciprocate her actions, and soon after he approached her.

“Nice to see you again Shinsuke!” She greeted me enthusiastically.

He smiled to himself before answering, “It’s quite nice to encounter you once more, Aeris.”

They both talked as they shopped around the market, it was so casual yet it made him feel a certain way. He couldn’t understand what feeling it was but he most definitely liked it.

Once more they had to bid their goodbyes, and again, he hoped to see her for another time.

𓆩♡𓆪

Kita’s grandma is at her monthly check up and of course he accompanied her— being the amazing grandson he is. He didn’t mind going with her but he can’t lie the wait is horrible. So he decided to check out the boba shop he saw on the way to the clinic.

He’s very fond of bubble tea and he couldn’t help himself when he saw a shop nearby. He enters the cute little cafe and once again he sees Aeris. Who wore yet another dress, it was still as flowy as ever but he noticed it was just a tad bit shorter than her last dress. This time the design was floral, her hair was loose with a matching floral headband to match her dress.

Aeris sat near the window, a book in hand and her boba on the table. How come she always looks so ethereal? Was the question he asked himself everytime he sees her.

“Hey there Aeris. It seems we meet again.” He greeted the female with a soft smile as he sat down on the unoccupied seat next to her.

She was surprised to say the least, not just by the sudden greeting but the fact that he went up to her first. It was such a small thing but she adored it so much. “Hey there Shinsuke! What a small world isn’t it?” a giggle emitted from her, she put down her book to catch up with him.

Their conversations seem to happen effortlessly. Kita feels some way when he’s with her, a feeling of peace, happiness, and the feeling of home. ‘Is this the feeling gran was talking about whenever she’s with grandpa back then?’ he wonders to himself.

𓆩♡𓆪

Before meeting Aeris, Kita was a man who followed a very strict routine. One thing in his routine is having a fixed sleeping schedule— he sleeps early, he wakes up early, he wakes up early, he gets things done.

But after every encounter, late at night his thoughts and what if’s are screaming in his head. He can’t fall asleep, his mind has been occupied by a pretty lady he met not long ago.

‘Why am I feeling this way?’

‘If this is love, does she feel the same?’

‘Should I ask her out on a date?’

‘What if she says no?’

‘What if I got everything wrong?’

‘If she says no, will I ever get to see her again?’

‘Is this even worth the risk?’

Kita’s quick to shut his last thought, of course she’s worth the risk. He’s never felt this way before with anyone. It's like once in a lifetime for him, and he feels so lucky it was with Aeris.

Shinsuke has made up his mind and has decided to ask her out on a date. He just needed to figure out when, where, and how.

Kita want’s their first date to be special if Aeris ever accepts his offer. He thought of so many possible date ideas. He felt like he was going mad for the first time,, every date idea that he comes up with he automatically thinks of the worst case scenario. After a very very very very very very long time of brainstorming he’s finally made up his mind.

A picnic date on the beach where they first met. He’ll bring her possible favourite flowers. Yellow tulips, he’s noticed that she wears them often. He’ll bring some of her favourite snacks to their date. Now all he had to figure out was how to ask her out.

Even though Aeris and Shinsuke had met a couple of times before, she never really mentioned her family name at least once. So he couldn’t look you up on social media and ask her through there. Kita could try and be patient for your next encounter, but he’ll never know when that could be.

Then, he remembered that one time they met at a convenience store, and he vaguely remembers her school uniform colours but it was— Fukurodani Academy. He also remembers that she mentioned on their first meeting that she’s in her 3rd year.

So, he decided to call someone he knew from Fukurodani to ask about Aeris. On Kita’s phone, he was looking for a certain setter's name— Akaashi Keiji. He grew close to the young boy during some of their teams practise matches together. It took a bit before Akaashi answered, after waiting a few more seconds he picked up.

“Hi Akaashi, it’s been a while, how have you been?”

“Hello Kita-san, I’ve been well. How about you?”

“Same goes for me, anyways I was wondering if you can do me a favour?”

“Oh sure thing, how can I help?”

“Thank you so much. I was wondering if you know anyone by the name Aeris?”

“Oh uhm Kita-san, if you don’t mind me asking, why?”

“I met her a few weeks back at the beach, and after that I kept encountering her.”

“But how?”

Kita was confused by Akaashi’s response and so he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How were you able to see my sister.. when she’s been dead for a year now…”

Kita didn’t know what to feel at this moment.. This wonderful woman was a piece that

completes his heart, but right now, she’s the reason his heart is shattered into a million bits.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t know..”

“When did you first meet her or I should say when did you first start seeing her?”

“It was on July 31.. Why?”

“That was the exact same day Aeris was born and that day last year was the day she died..”

His heart throbbed, he felt Keiji’s words tug at his heartstrings the worst way possible.

Akaashi spoke once more, “I’m sorry you had to meet her that way..”

“I’m sorry for your loss as well..”

The sound of the call ending was heard, and all Kita felt so many emotions hit him. Why had Aeris chosen him to be close to? Why did he have to fall for her? Why did he have to meet her on that day? Will he be feeling like this if he was 10 minutes later than he usually was? Will he be holding his head in his hands as tears stream down his face, while all of their shared memories play like a movie in his head?

Everything made sense now that he looks at it, people never really approach Aeris in public places, even though she had the beauty like Aphrodite. When their hands touched for the first time it was cold in contrast to her personality. The way her dress grows shorter every next encounter they have means the shorter amount of time they have left together.

Kita Shinsuke, a man who never really feels love for simply just anyone, finally fell in love, but with someone he’s fated not to have. He never even has gotten the chance to be loved by her, because of the cruel fate the universe has bestowed upon him.

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#inarizaki #reader insert #inarizaki x reader #elise writes for: haikyuu

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hide-in-imagination · 2 years ago

Text

2. ...What doesn't kill me makes me want you more... | Cruel Summer

Prev chapter here.

The days went by and Simón didn't see Ámbar again.

It shouldn't have been surprising considering that night at the beach had been the first time they'd really crossed paths since the Roda Fest. But after what happened between them, Simón had been almost expecting to bump into her everywhere, like the world would conspire to push them together and make things awkward.

But none of that happened. Things carried on as normal— He'd wake up and have breakfast with his family, play the guitar, go out with Luna or some friends, visit his grandma, return to his house for dinner, and sleep. It was all the usual, laid-back activities... but it almost felt weird.

How could everything just be normal after something like that? How could the days not change?

His nights did though.

In his dreams, in more than one occasion, Ámbar made an appearance. It was dark and she was telling him goodbye, and every time, he tried to speak or call out to her, but his voice wouldn't come out. He'd wake up from the whole struggle of it. Then he'd stare at the ceiling and feel like an idiot. They'd been over for a while now, it didn't work, they finally had closure— What was even there to say? Why did he keep having that dream?

Then another day began and it was like it never happened. It was confusing.

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

He could've dodged that kiss.

It was not the first time Simón thought about that, and not the first time Luna called him out for being lost in his thoughts. They could be grabbing lunch after rollerskating down the beach and off his mind went, back to that night, back to that very beach that was the only witness to the wind in her hair and the flip turn in his heart. To his cotton enveloping her and her arms enveloping him.

The thing was, even if Ámbar took him by surprise, he could've stopped what happened. He could've said no.

Just as he could've left her at the beach, or asked for a cab to take her home, or leave her side as soon as they got near enough to the mansion.

But he did none of those things.

And he didn't... regret it, exactly. But he kind of wished he didn't know all that he knew now. He wished he didn't remember that kiss.

Life was easier before.

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

After a week passed, Simón started to wonder if the whole thing had been a dream.

It seemed a little unreal, in hindsight, everything that Ámbar had told him. How he held her and soothed her to the lullaby of breaking waves. He felt like, that night, after years of knowing Ámbar, he got to see a side of her that was... raw. He had reproached her for her lack of honesty toward him when he ended things between them, and then gotten an honesty so brutal he wasn't sure he deserved it.

Simón had felt so severed from her back then when he found that handkerchief, like the connection he thought they had was a lie, like everything he thought he knew about her was some fog he couldn't shape anymore.

Now, after that night, he finally felt like he understood some things. He finally felt like, maybe, he truly understood her.

Too bad is too late now.

Simón was, once more, staring at the ceiling.

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

No matter how many times Simón entered this mansion, he was always blown away by its luxury. The one back at Buenos Aires was bigger, but this one had more open space, starting from the huge entrance hall with its tall ceiling and big arched windows overlooking the ocean. Luna and he had tested raising their voices here once and found that they echoed.

It was weird to think Sharon used to use this mansion basically just for herself. The property was still in her name, actually. The staff didn't know that Sharon had run away after her plot of keeping Luna from inheriting had been discovered. Luna had told Simón that the adults decided it was better that way. The official story was that Sharon was away on a business trip. Meanwhile, they all got to stay at the mansion during their summer vacation.

Simón should be used to all this extravagance considering the many times Luna had invited him over, but then again, if she wasn't used to it yet and she lived here now, it was probably normal. There were many things Luna still hadn't wrapped her mind around yet, in fact, and Simón thought it was very understandable. He couldn't imagine his life changing so much from one day to the next like that. It was one of the reasons why he made sure to hang out with her a lot these days. She needed the distraction and the company. Plus, it was always fun to be with his best friend.

Sometimes they just met outside, either by the gate or at the beach or something of the sort, but today, Luna had suggested watching some movies and relaxing inside. Considering the heat, it was a very good call. But soon after he arrived, Simón found Luna no longer thought so.

"Let's do something outside instead," she proposed, meeting him in the hall. "Ámbar is here."

Simón tried to hide the way his heart skipped a beat.

"She is?"

"Yeah, she's been hanging around the house more," Luna said. "Although, mostly she just sits by the pool with her phone and ignores everyone, but my grandpa is still happy about it. Anyway, she could show up at any moment, and that would mean an unpleasant encounter between you two, so, let's just go out instead. Avoid conflict."

Simón's mind was left reeling. His heart sped up. 'She's been hanging around the house more.' 'Grandpa is happy about it.'

So she listened to him.

Ámbar listened to him, that was... Wow, he didn't expect that.

"Right," he said, realizing he had to reply to Luna. "Yeah, let's do that." What else could he say? Luna was doing it for his sake after all. To 'avoid conflict'.

Would Ámbar fight with him the next time she saw him? Was she angry? Did she even care? Or had that night been enough for her to flip the page and just not think about him anymore?

Was he still angry? It was hard to tell. Everything Ámbar had done was wrong. He couldn't forget about that. Her lies had hurt too much to just forgive her. She still hadn't apologized to all the people she hurt.

'It would mean an unpleasant encounter between you two.'

But their last encounter... hadn't been unpleasant. Weird, yes. Sad, very. Intense, definitely. But not unpleasant. Did that mean he wasn't angry anymore? What did he feel?

"Simón?" Luna called him, halfway to the front door already, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You coming?"

"Yeah," he said, and followed her outside.

He couldn't help but look back before he left.

He saw nothing though.

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

Turning 20 was a little exciting. Simón had always liked birthdays, and since this one marked the beginning of a new decade in his life, he found it to be even more special. He'd been kind of waiting for it, really. 19 felt like kind of an in-between number, not as important as 18 and not as important as 20. At eighteen, he'd made the decision to get that plane ticket to Buenos Aires and his life had changed forever. Now that he was twenty, who knew what surprises awaited him, what new experiences he'd have, what new people he'd meet. Maybe this would finally be the year when he and the Roller Band got to share their music with the world. A guy could dream.

This year, since it was an important birthday, he'd wanted to do something different, something extra fun. Luna had the idea that they could throw a costume party at his house and Simón loved it. His family loved the idea as well— After all, he'd gotten his love for birthdays from them. So, they organized it— filled the house and backyard with led lights and decorations, stacked the tables with foods, sodas, and some beers (his neighborhood friends and old classmates were all of legal age, after all)— and now here Simón was, playing host and birthday boy, going from person to person, seeing costume after costume (some very cool, some hilariously creative), and just... having a good time.

It was nice. It was very nice after... how last year had ended.

You told yourself you weren't going to think about that.

Well, it was easier said than done, as the entirety of this summer proved to him. But this day had by far the biggest distraction. He cheered to that with a beer. It wasn't like one can was going to get him drunk.

This birthday was even more special than previous ones because some of his friends from the Roller were here. Most had to return to Buenos Aires as soon as the competition was over. Others already had vacation plans, like Ramiro, who went back to Chile to see his family. But Jim and Yam had never been to Cancún before, or México in general, so the moment they mentioned they wished they could stay a little longer, do some sightseeing and get to know the country, Mr. Alfredo offered them to stay at the mansion. "There's plenty of space!" He said, and eventually managed to convince the girls to take him up on his offer, quietening their fears of taking advantage of his kindness.

No one said it, but it probably crossed everyone's minds, that it would also be good for Luna to have friends nearby during this complicated time in her life.

The other person who stayed was Matteo. He apparently had his own summer house in Cancún, and friends he'd made over the years of spending his vacations here. He mostly hung out with those friends and did his own thing, so Simón didn't see him much, but every now and then, everyone from the Roller gathered together to go rollerskating, swimming, or whatever seemed fun at the time, so it wasn't like he hadn't hung out with Matteo at all.

Even so, Simón had hesitated over whether he should invite him to his birthday party or not. It didn't seem nice not to do so, but he had Luna to think about. Neither of them acted particularly awkward whenever they all hung out together, but their breakup was still recent, and Simón knew it probably affected Luna more than she let on. There were also his own confrontations with Matteo to take into account, the most recent one being the Vidia competition.

But they were still teammates. They both had been there, training for the Roda Fest day after day, sharing bandages when they got blisters on their feet. Matteo had been there when they gave it their all, when they mourned their defeat against the Sliders, and when they celebrated Luna winning the Glass Skate. They hung out during the summer and laughed together.

So, Simón invited him. And the first thing Matteo did after handing him his present was apologize.

'I shouldn't have done that at the interview. I was so desperate to win that I let Bruno's messed up advice get to my head and... I forgot that music should be what's most important. I'm sorry for what I put you through.'

Simón forgave him. He had really wanted to win too, so he understood. Plus, he sensed that Matteo was already facing enough regrets in other areas of his life, judging by the longing looks he sent Luna's way when he thought no one was watching.

Simón didn't know if those two would get to make up someday, but at least this party gave everyone an opportunity to disconnect from their everyday worries and just enjoy the moment. He loved to see all his friends having fun. It was interesting to see both of his worlds collide, with many of his childhood friends asking to be introduced to his new friends with the foreign accents. He suspected some of the guys he used to play football with were interested in the girls. Too bad for them Yam had Ramiro. But Jim seemed more than happy to talk. Maybe something would bloom from there.

He was re-stocking the snack table when one of his sisters peeked her head out of the kitchen. "Simón, another car just parked outside, go greet your friend!"

"Coming!"

The whole evening had been like that, with new people arriving at intervals and greeting Simón. Sometimes they rang the doorbell and no one heard it, so as evening turned into night, they'd been looking out the windows more.

By the time Simón walked out, the car was gone and the person halfway to the door already. They had left the gate open so his guests could at least wait in the front yard instead of standing alone on the street.

"Hey there!" Simón greeted with a smile. "Welc—"

The air froze inside his lungs.

She was disguised from head to toe. A black wig of long curls covered her natural hair, while a black cloak covered big part of her costume. A black mask concealed most of her face, only her mouth and chin remaining visible.

And yet, the moment their eyes locked, he somehow just knew.

Ámbar.

It would be hard to recognize her if one wasn't paying attention. Simón's eyes swept over her, making sure he wasn't insane. Her real costume peaked out from underneath the long cloak over her shoulders— Or better said, her dress. She reminded him of the attires people used to wear to the opera. The dress was a dark purple, with no sleeves that he could see and strings at the front like a corset, tight down to the waist but falling wider over her hips in tiers until almost knee-high. Her legs were covered in pantyhose, black as the heels she was wearing.

She was dressed as a guest to a masquerade ball where everyone tried to keep their identities secret. But it was her. Simón knew her eyes. And, more embarrassingly, the shape of her lips.

He opened his mouth to say something— Her name? A question? A compliment?— But Ámbar spoke before he could do so.

"Truce?"

Her gaze was shy almost, and her voice had a hopeful ring to it. She probably feared he'd ask her to leave.

Simón still couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't believe she was here, at his house.

He didn't want her to leave.

"Truce."

Ámbar relaxed and showed him a tiny smile. She ducked her head and searched inside her cloak for something. From an inner pocket, she pulled out a small package wrapped in blue paper.

"Happy birthday."

Simón may have stared at it for a second too long, surprised that she had gotten him a present. He reached for it and their hands touched, but he forced himself to ignore that.

"Thank you."

They stood there, staring at each other. Simón felt awkward. What could he say? 'How have you been?' Things were a little too complicated between them for something so casual, perhaps. 'I heard you've been hanging around your house more, is it because of what I said?' Yeah, no— He definitely shouldn't bring up that night. Definitely.

"So..." Ámbar's lips quirked up. "A king, huh?"

Simón looked down at his costume. He had a big red cape lined with white fur over his clothes— just regular black jeans and a blue t-shirt— but with the big golden crown over his head, the concept was unmistakable. There'd been a scepter too at first, but carrying it around everywhere got old quickly.

"It was my sister's idea and my mom instantly loved it," he explained. "Once an idea gets into my mom's head, there's no way to get it out of it, so I just went with it. Now everyone who sees me calls me 'my king'," he said with a touch of laughter.

"That doesn't sound bad at all," Ámbar said.

"Says the girl that used to be called the queen of the rink."

Ámbar looked away. Her smile turned a little sad. "That seems like so long ago now..."

Simón lost his smile. He hadn't meant to bring back bad memories for her.

"Simón! Here you are!"

Luna's excited voice coming from behind made Simón jump in place. She walked out the front door and came over to his side, and Ámbar fled immediately, going inside the house and fading from view.

Luna wrinkled her brows a little, confused by her quick departure. "Who was she?"

"Just an old classmate," Simón came up with in the moment. His heart was agitated but he managed to make his voice sound normal. "She's a little shy."

His chest twinged a little. He had just lied to his best friend. But this could count as a white lie, right? It didn't hurt anyone.

"What did she get you?" Luna asked curiously.

Simón looked at the package in his hands; he had almost forgotten about it. "I don't know." It was small and square-shaped but it didn't feel like a CD, so he really couldn't guess.

"Well, open it, silly!" Luna said with a laugh.

Simón did so, driven by curiosity more than anything as he ripped the wrapping paper. He didn't know what Ámbar could've gotten him, especially considering all that had happened between them lately. Just the fact that she had gotten him a gift was strange and—

He inhaled sharply, freezing.

"What is it? What is it?" Luna asked excitedly, oblivious to his reaction. She inched closer to read the front of the square package. "Ooh, guitar strings! They'll come in handy; you're always breaking yours."

These weren't just any guitar strings though. He was holding one of the best brands of guitar strings on the market. Simón had always wanted one of these, in this exact material, gauge, and color, but he had never let himself buy them because there were cheaper options and he had to prioritize more important stuff, like food expenses.

All of this he had said to Ámbar once, the day of their date after the movie, when he was walking her home and they happened to pass by a music store.

She remembered.

Simón raised his head with a jerk. His eyes checked the inside the house wildly, trying to find her.

"Simón?" Luna said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." He gulped. "Um- I'm gonna leave these in my room, okay? I'll be right back."

"Okay, but don't you dare start putting them on right now, got it?" Luna warned him jokingly as he left. "Your mom wanted to bring out the cake soon!"

Simón went through his house like a blur. In every room, people stopped him to talk to him about whatever— 'Birthday boy!' 'My king!'— and Simón entertained them for a little while, talked to them enough to not seem rude, but the whole time, his mind was somewhere else, his heart pounding against his rib cage.

She remembered. She remembered. She remembered.

It was just a comment in passing, and yet she remembered even the string gauge he wanted.

He made it to another room— more greetings, more kind but swift replies as his eyes looked around— but he still couldn't find her.

Why would Ámbar do that? Why would she remember something like that if she didn't care? If he was just a part of some plan?

He checked the first floor's bathroom just in case she could be hiding there, but it was empty.

She wouldn't. If it was just some plan, she wouldn't.

Simón gripped the strings tighter in his hand.

**************

She'd been in relative peace until Jim and Yam came out into the backyard.

Ámbar cursed internally and tried to slyly turn so that her back was to them. Everyone from the Roller had gathered in the living room and were talking animatedly between themselves, which was why Ámbar had quickly exiled herself from the house and settled in the backyard full of strangers, but now the two inseparable girls had been lured outside by the popcorn machine.

Ámbar looked at the car parked next to the outer wall of the residence. The backyard went around the side of the house all the way to the front, so she could squish next to the car and leave— She doubted they had locked the gate since she arrived. It would draw some attention to herself, probably, but she was risking it staying here any longer. She should leave right now.

But she and Simón hadn't gotten to talk much at all. Then again, she had come here to give him his present, not to talk to him. But still, should she...? No, she should go.

"Hey there, gorgeous." Some guy came to stand next to her. "What's your name?"

Ámbar resisted the urge to grimace. Oh damn it, she feared this would happen. She knew she should've gotten a more inconspicuous costume, but this was the only one they had in her size that justified a mask.

(That wasn't completely true. They had an ugly witch costume and mask left over from Halloween, but... even though it was stupid and she wanted to go unnoticed, some part of her wanted to look good too.)

She'd bought the black cloak and wore it over everything to try to avoid gathering any attention, but apparently, that had failed.

Ámbar took a glance at the guy who had come to talk to her. He was tall, tanned, and had green eyes. He was attractive, sure.

She was not interested.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she replied, trying to make her voice sound a little lower than usual. She changed her accent too so that Jim and Yam wouldn't recognize it. Damn it, what would she do if they found out she was here? They could cause a scene— She didn't want to ruin Simón's birthday.

"Ah, mysterious... Okay, I like a little mystery," the new guy said with a smile, either not hearing the disinterest in her voice or ignoring it. "I'm Franco. Tell me, what's a girl as beautiful as you doing here all by herself?"

Ámbar scoffed internally. So unoriginal. She would've laughed if the situation didn't have her so on edge. "How do you know I'm alone?"

"Well, I don't see you talking to anyone," he pointed out the obvious. She was pretty separated from the rest—that was the point. "Maybe your boyfriend or your friends haven't arrived yet?"

He was fishing for information, but she wasn't going to give him any. "Something like that. In fact, I think I'll be leaving soon."

"Oh, come on, mystery girl, the party is just getting started!" This Franco guy said with enthusiasm. He really did sound charismatic. Maybe in another life she wouldn't have hated him. "Let me get you a drink, we haven't even sung happy birthday yet. By the way, how do you know Simón?"

Shit. "Um..."

Just then, a red cape entered her vision from the left side.

"Hey, what's up?" Simón showed up, greeting both of them. He had a smile on his face, but it was off, tense. Maybe for most people it wouldn't have been noticeable, but Ámbar was an expert at faking smiles.

He turned that fake smile to Franco. "Sorry to interrupt but you'll have to excuse us, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

Simón grabbed Ámbar's hand and began to lead her into the house.

"Come on, my king, leave one for the commoners!" Franco hollered jokingly as they left him behind. Simón tightened his grip on her hand and didn't say anything.

Ámbar's heart was pounding. She tried to calm herself down as Simón led her up a flight of stairs and inside a bedroom she could only assume was his. Everything was fine, he'd saved her from being found out— She didn't have to worry anymore.

(She could convince herself that was the only reason her heart was racing.)

Simón locked the door once they were inside and stepped further into the room.

"Thank you," she told him, feeling safe enough to remove the annoying mask from her face— It made her skin itchy.

The light was off, but the curtains were open on the window to her left, and the lights coming from outside were enough to illuminate the both of them, for her to see him. The room was dark, but Ámbar's eyes adjusted quickly, so she could see a bed by the window and posters on the walls. If she tried hard enough, she could see the silhouette of Simón's guitar on the far-right corner of the room, standing next to a small desk.

"I didn't know how to answer his questions, and Jim and Yam were standing like two meters away from me. I was afraid they would recognize my voice—"

"Why are you here?"

For the first time since she stepping into the room, Ámbar took a real look at Simón. His expression was serious, different from the unsure friendliness he had shown her when she first arrived.

Her mood sunk like a stone in water. Ámbar looked out the window and spoke in a small voice, feeling small herself. "I thought we said truce."

"We did," Simón replied. "I'm just asking you why you took the time to get a costume and come here if you didn't want anyone to see you."

"I wanted to give you your present."

"Why?" He said in that same serious tone.

Ámbar cracked a smile, furrowing her brows a little as she turned her face to see him. "What do you mean 'why'? Because it's your birthday."

"Why give me a present at all?"

Ámbar's smile fell and she looked down. She crossed her arms. The air felt heavy. Deflecting any further didn't seem to be an option; he wasn't going to let it go until he got a straight answer from her.

"I..." She gripped her forearms. "After the other day... I guess I just wanted to thank you. For consoling me."

It had made sense uptil now, in her head, but in the face of his silence, Ámbar felt silly. Simón would've done what he did for anyone, it wasn't like she was special. She had basically left him no choice, really, considering how distressed she was that night— What else could he have done but comfort her? He probably just saw it as being a decent human being, but she, being as she was, got too caught up in what she was feeling and forced a kiss he didn't ask for. Maybe she should've framed this as an apology instead, for being presumptuous, taking advantage. His current tense demeanor told her as much.

Ámbar raised her head and let her arms fall to her sides. She aimed for casual to hide her embarrassment. "But I was just leaving, so don't worry."

She spun towards the door, but Simón's voice stopped her before she could even take a step.

"You're not gonna stay to sing happy birthday to me?"

His voice had softened a little. Ámbar looked back at him. His face remained impassive but there was something there, something in his eyes that she couldn't read.

Ámbar hesitated, not knowing what to do with this Simón. She either knew him smiling or criticizing. Soft or sharp as knives. This was neither. "Do you want me to stay?"

Simón looked down at his hands, and only then she realized he was holding her present, the guitar strings she'd bought for him. "You remembered," he said instead of answering. His eyes rose to meet hers. "What I told you that day about the strings I dreamed to have. You remembered."

Ámbar could feel her heart pounding between her ribs. "Of course I remembered."

His eyes bore into hers, and that something was still there, growing stronger. "...Why?"

Ámbar rolled her eyes. "What is it with you and the question 'why' today? I just remembered that you wanted them and that's it—"

"No— Why are you doing this?" Simón demanded, annoyance loud and clear in his voice. "Why now? Why today? Why do you have to be like this? Why couldn't you just..."

He cut off his words, seemingly overtaken by frustration. He didn't look at her anymore.

Ámbar hurt. I was only trying to do something nice, I genuinely had good intentions. I can't even give people presents without breaking some kind of unspoken rule?

Ámbar hurt, and she despaired, but she was going to die before letting it show.

She nodded slowly to herself. "Well, sorry for bothering you so much with my presence— I'll go," she spat. She turned on her heels and went to the door. "If you don't want them, you can just throw away the damn strings—"

Before she could unlock it, a hand slammed against the door, keeping it closed. Ámbar spun on instinct and found herself caged in by Simón, his body standing mere centimeters away from hers.

Simón watched as Ámbar's eyes widened and stared at him with confusion.

He didn't have answers. He didn't have explanations either. He'd already voiced his questions and found that, in the end, it didn't matter.

(I don't care why she's here, I don't care why she chose this day, I don't care why she had to remember when I wanted to forget, I don't care—)

He just had one uncontrollable urge.

Simón threw the guitar strings toward his bed, held Ámbar's face, and kissed her.

He felt Ámbar's breath catch under his touch. He felt the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body. He caught the sweet scent that, by this point, he could only describe as Ámbar. He heard the thud her mask made as it fell to the floor.

He felt her kiss him back.

Simón made a sound in the back of his throat and kissed her harder, holding onto her waist and pressing her against the door. Ámbar moaned against his lips and Simón ate it up like the sweetest delicacy, fell the rush of want and relief spreading through his body. He hadn't realized how scared he'd been of being pushed him away until Ámbar molded her lips with his and grabbed him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his shoulder, both pulling him in, bringing him close. He wondered if Ámbar had been scared too that other night at the beach. Then her tongue came out to touch his own and he lost all capacity for thinking.

Ámbar unraveled against Simón's lips. She thought she'd never get the chance to feel this again. She had meant for that night's kiss to be their last, but at this moment, she couldn't even phantom not having this every day, not having Simón as close as he could be, his body firm against her own whenever possible. The touch of his hands made her skin sing. His mouth on her mouth brought her back to life.

Everything was a mess lately. She spent every waking moment trying to escape how wrong every aspect of her life felt. Being with Simón felt right. This felt right.

Their lips joined and parted in between short, shared breaths. It wasn't like the kiss from the other night, rough and desperate, filled with a hundred conflicted feelings. That kiss had been like a crash, like an explosion of fire.

This kiss was melting. Their lips moved against each other, fitting perfectly, like a dance they somehow knew the steps to. It wasn't frenzied, but it wasn't slow either— They wanted to make it last, but they also couldn't get enough. Their tongues kept seeking more warmth, more to taste, and their hands roamed each other just as greedily. Simón felt himself getting light-headed. Memories flashed through his mind, all of Ámbar— Ámbar, Ámbar, Ámbar— and it just made him kiss her harder.

'You're amazing, Simón.'

'When I am with you, I feel like the world stops. Like there's nothing else but you and me.'

'I... I love you.'

They broke away for air, the two of them breathing hard through open mouths, wet from saliva.

Simón stared into Ámbar's eyes.

"Ámbar..." He cupped her face. "I..."

Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were a darkened blue, seeing nothing but his.

A knocking on the door cut the connection like a slap.

"Simón!" Luna's voice came from the other side. The door handle rattled and shook as she tried to turn it open. "Did you lock yourself with your guitar? I told you that could wait, come downstairs!" She said excitedly. "It's time to blow out the candles!"

Simón's hands jerked away. Ámbar's eyes were wide now, most surely like his own. It was his instincts that urged him— Quick! Quick! Do something!— before the rest of him could react. He looked at the door and cleared his throat, trying to bring his voice back to normal and not sound as wrecked as he felt.

"Okay, tell them I'll be right there!"

"Hurry!" Luna replied, and then the sound of her retreating footsteps faded away.

The two left in the room looked at each other. They were alone again, but not really. They never had been alone— The sound of chatter and music coming from outside the window made Simón realize this fact. It had never been just them. There was a world beyond them. There was time, past and future, beyond this moment.

It was disorienting.

"I, uh..." Simón gulped, trying to detach his heart from his throat. "I'll go down first, and they should be distracted enough that they won't notice you coming down later."

Ámbar nodded wordlessly, clearly as shaken as him.

They kept staring at each other. He felt like he had to say something— He couldn't just leave.

Everyone outside started chanting his name, cheerfully calling him down. "Simón! Simón! Simón!"

He winced. "I'm sorry, I have to go, maybe later..." Later what?

Ámbar just nodded again. "Go."

And the voices were loud, and his heart was louder, but he had to leave.

He opened the door and left it closed behind him. Simón walked rapidly down the hall and down the stairs, his mind feeling like static.

"Ah, there he is! The birthday boy!" His dad exclaimed from the living room with a big smile that Simón tried to mimic. Everyone had already gathered in the room, some of them sitting, others standing. "Come here, come here."

People let him pass over to go stand next to his dad in the back of the room, in front of all the awaiting guests.

"Where's your crown?" His dad asked him once he reached him.

Simón brought his hands to the top of his head, surprised. Indeed, it wasn't there.

The feeling of his hands made him remember other fingers, running through his hair, grabbing it.

"Oh, I... must have forgotten it upstairs."

"Should I go get it?" Luna offered.

"No time for that, the cake is here!" His mom exclaimed enthusiastically, walking out of the kitchen with the huge round cake they had gotten for him. It was decorated in blue with little lightning bolts, just like the design of his guitar. The numbers 2 and 0 stood proud in the middle of it in shining gold candles.

Once his mom got in position, everyone coordinated to start the singing while some people pulled out their phones to film.

'Estas son las mañanitas que cantaba el rey David...

Y hoy por ser tu cumpleaños te las cantamos a ti...'

Simón kept looking for a black cloak or purple dress in the crowd of smiling faces. He didn't see either; just his family and friends, the cake in front of him, and the candles he blew to the sound of cheers.

He kept looking after the cake was served. He didn't find her.

Ámbar was gone.

…

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It's so weird to finally release into the world an idea that's existed for 3 years sdkjfns. I really love this chapter ♡

Please enjoy this edit that took me ridiculously too long to make:

#simbar #simbar fic #simbar fanfic #soy luna #soy luna fanfiction #My Writing #cruel summer

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shallowstories · 9 months ago

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Looking for a proofreader for this next long one!

Not active yet, but here's what it looks like so far. The synopses and stuff need work, and I plan on reading two writing books before really gritting down and hyperfocusing, so I'll probably be doing this late spring and early summer!

EDIT: AJ might proof for me hallelujah and oh lord I cannot fuck this up ////

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For your crimes against the most high

Multi POV: Drafted 6/13 chapters

"For you have made your worthless knowledge known to human consorts, and through this comes much evil on the earth: for you have taught them war mongering, domination, and murder."

Synopsis: When Sam and Dean offer themselves up to save the world, Chuck plays it cool, vetoing the idea of a Winchester Bowl. But when Dean mentions Castiel, Chuck flies into a rage, insisting that Cas was nothing more than a divine catfishing scheme.

Sam strikes back, charging that Chuck’s full of shit, and that his focus on familial sacrifice is the source of his God-powers. Chuck's answer? A forty-day flood.

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Timeline: Supernatural post-15x18, mid 15x19 fic

Focus: Canon-typical misuse of world religions, Fantastical retelling of The Book of Enoch, References to child sacrifice, The root of Castiel's miraculous resurrections, Polytheism, Angels as lesser deities, Wherein praying to angels is a sin, Hunters are conceived as sacred executioners, Accidental angelolatry, Michael moves like the war lord he is, Lucifer and Nephilim back story, The Great Flood and its Consequences, The Princes of Hell and the Shedim, Azazel tries to use Jack to open the portal to the Shedim, Primordial eve, jealous gods, Chuck tries to convince you that angels are all just Him in Disguise and the Winchesters are his puppetted holy honey traps

Characters: Dean/Castiel, Dean & Sam, Sam & Dean & Cas & Jack, Michael, Michael/Adam if you squint, Lucifer, Chuck Shurley, Azazel and the Special Children, Historical Nephilim

Content warning: Major character death (Castiel), gratuitous references to Deliverance, and mishmashing of world religions without much care to accuracy. Eventual happy ending.

Updates are somewhat irregular but am persistently writing this one, I promise!

Proofread by (TBD).

❤️

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Ch 01: If he even existed (~4000 words, ~16 minutes) - Sam POV Ramping up his existential torture, Chuck insists that Cas was nothing more than sexy self-insert. During the face-off, Sam wonders if Chuck’s focus on familial sacrifice is more than an obsession but where he gets his power.

Ch 02: At sea (~6000 words, ~24 minutes) - Sam POV Team Free Will 3.0 flees to higher ground, and the weight of grief hangs heavy. Michael is bothered by Chuck's sudden disinterest in the idea of the Winchesters killing one another.

Ch 03: Wish you were h- (~6000 words, ~24 minutes) - Dean POV Things will never be like they were with Jack, but for a moment, Dean gets to pretend. (Jack shares photos from one of his and Castiel's ghost cases, where they apparently got up-close-and-personal with wingsuit base jumping.)

Ch 04: Make war to me (~7000 words, ~28 minutes) - Dean POV Processing Chuck's taunts, Dean has a vivid dream of Cas. He emerges with a renewed faith in the future.

Ch 05: You have fixed nothing (~6200 words, ~25 minutes) - Jack POV Morale tanks. Jack's mood takes a turn for the worse. Michael returns bearing gifts.

The rest are still more heavily in work, and might change, but here's what it's lookin' like so you can see if it's something you might wanna proofread:

(GRAPHIC STILL IN WORK, the bloody spearing of two fish) Ch 06: Someone special (~8000 words, ~32 minutes) - Michael tries his best to stabilize Jack's energy issues. On a supply run, Dean and Jack run afoul of the special children, and Azazel reveals he's been waiting for this to happen all along.

Tentative list of updates:

Ch 07: Psychic boy blues - Sam POV - TBD - When the door breaks down, the last person Sam expects to see is Jake Talley.

Ch 08: Careful, bridge may ice - Dean POV - TBD - And the worst part of it all is that Lucifer told Michael this would happen. Long ago.

Ch 09: The wilderness we call home - Sam POV - TBD

Ch 10: Bring on the Nephilim - Jack POV - TBD

Ch 11: Declarations of war - Dean or Cas POV? - TBD

Ch 12: Against my better judgment - Cas or Sam or Jack POV? - TBD

Ch 13: It ain't much (working title) - Dean POV - TBD

#anyone has time over summer to help me with this fic let me knoooow #proofreading #beta reader #that's my queue #i'm scheduling this for tomorrow because it's in fact after midnight

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daniels-rwby-blog · 2 years ago

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rwby v9 c9 review

Episode 9 a tale involving a treeAlright who's ready for this!

(Not me)

Intro as good as ever, so much meaning we missed in ep1

A door opened you say?

An exerpt from the Fairy TALES WITH SUMMER!WHAT!!!!

BABY YANG AND RUBY!!!!YOOOOO!Anyhow now to team JWBYYou did a lot wrong jauneWhat the hell?A crystal paper pleaser?Eh oh jaune is puzzled

Water works guys, it's adorable

BLAKES EAR!!

oh her animation is sooo good this volume

That emotion oh yes, amazing.

And jaunes realizing his mistakes

And as usual Wiess is rightAnd that far shit was nice.

GROUP HUG!!!(I see you white knight)

And the key is unlocked

Teleportation is voice activated

That sun that color, ITS GORGEOUS

The sun omg , yang's hair it's YELLOW

my god it's volume 1 again.

Accept, yeah that's the message of this volume isn't it?

And to the rubes we go.

Surprise it's the blacksmith.

Some intriguing dialogue.

And Lindsay did so well her, that subtle "am i?"

And the hammering continues outside.

And Curious Neo!

The sarcasm the sass, it's beautiful

Best girl is still her in spirit i suppose?

That pose tho it's hilarious

And sassy wiess yay!

Her hair is amazing btw Neos model is great

Alyxs is not the bad guy bingo card!

The hands the face, it's terrifying and amazing.

This fight is gonna be awesome

So the blacksmith is the tree (someone called it)

The combos, yang's anger so focused on helping Ruby.And ruby's confession, the tears, the eyes.And weapons to choose ruby's fate, fitting.

And they have more white rose moments

And the cat can fight my God.

And the snap cuts into her speech, nice.

"Mom" that's emotional.

The credits song is awesome Casey still killing it.

And that summer art, wow!

So we've finally seen summer in "full" i was kind of right, really wanted ruby out of the tree by now but this is fine I guess.

So summers axe is drawing her daughter, i think we can say ruby will become summer, or at least very much like her, enough for tai and wrote to double take (and raven i guess). Why else would she have a full Maya model? Now this could be temporary, or perhaps we have a dream sequence with summer and ruby talking and summer tells her all about how she heard her at the grave this whole time, but yeah we gonna see that full model one way or another.

And yes the blacksmith is alyx, it just is.

The idea of ruby and summer being the same person i disregard on first viewing i disagree with that far, but it's a possibility I'll admit, a wierd one tho in terms of imprecations. I think it's a metaphor if a full circle not an actual circular family tree.Alright imma break this down, expect theory's later this week, see ya - D

Best Girl Pics for happiness to forget we ain't out the woods yet

#rwby #rwby vol9 #rwby theory #RWBY reaction #summer rose #Summer vibes #ruby rose #team rwby #neopolitan #Neo #RWBY v9 #V9c8

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ayearwithoutwater · 2 months ago

Text

Twenty-one.

As spring melted into summer in 2022, New York State Assemblymember Yuh-Line Niou announced her candidacy for the freshly-redistricted NY-10, New York's 10th congressional district. NY-10's reshaped borders broadly overlapped with those of New York's 65th State Assembly district, encompassing Manhattan's Chinatown. When Yuh-Line announced that she would vacate her State Assembly seat to campaign for NY-10, she set off a chain of events that resulted in my first official foray into politics.

At the time, I was a resident of both aforementioned districts, but politics were a tangential matter to me—not because I didn't care, but because I was in the midst of the worst breakup of my life. I still kept up with the news to stay informed, but I was busy spending my days wallowing in misery.

Like many other Millennials, my own interest in politics was activated by the 2016 Presidential campaign run by Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders. Prior to that, I was a straightforward Democratic Party voter with little insight into the true machinations of American politics; Bernie's campaign, steadfastly focused on everyday people's material needs, switched on a light in my brain. So, by the time 2022 rolled around, I had spent years reading both theory and jargon alike to form my own political compass, and I already knew who I would support to replace Yuh-Line.

For the past decade, American politics has largely been defined by the demagoguery of President Trump as well as the abject ineffectiveness of the Democratic Party in opposition. But, the purpose of a system is what it does, and it's not lost on me that the Democratic Party is currently the perfect vehicle for funneling donations and taxpayer dollars into the wallets of a craven consultant class and achieving nothing else, best exemplified by Vice President Kamala Harris blowing through a campaign war chest of one billion dollars only to deliver for her party its worst defeat in modern history. Shamelessly, not even one full week later, her campaign has already sent emails and text messages begging for more donations from the millions of people that remain on its listserv, which it's shopping around to interested telemarketers because the campaign also finished the election twenty million dollars in debt. To say that the Democratic Party is in shambles would, however, be an overstatement—that would imply that their intended goal is to win elections. Clearly, it isn't. It's just an unfortunate coincidence that the rest of us are collateral damage.

To remedy the cancer that is the Democratic Party, two schools of thought have emerged. One advocates for a complete break with the Democrats to establish a new third party. Another argues for an incremental takeover of the existing Party by electing, year after year, "better" politicians running on that party line. I myself don't care to generalize; I think reality has demonstrated that a case-by-case basis is necessary in determining the proper path forward.

The 2022 Democratic primary election to fill Yuh-Line's shoes was one such case. As the outgoing Assemblymember, she declined to endorse a successor candidate, thereby allowing that election to be as open a primary as it could feasibly be. Two candidates of consequence threw their proverbial hats into the ring: Grace Lee and Illapa Sairitupac. Grace, endorsed by real estate and business interests, campaigned as the centrist candidate. She'd previously challenged Yuh-Line in 2018 and lost. Illapa, meanwhile, was a relative unknown who was the candidate fielded by New York City's Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) chapter. Between the two, even in my depressed state of mind, it was a no-brainer for me to plan to vote for Illapa. What did surprise me, however, was meeting him on my doorstep.

I was in the midst of bemoaning my love life to a visiting friend in my apartment when I heard a knock on my door. Not expecting anyone, I was confused about who it could be, but I was pleasantly shocked to see that it was Illapa; evidently, he had no qualms canvassing the district himself. I told him that he's already got my vote and not to feel like he has to spend any of his valuable time convincing me, in response to which he very graciously invited me to canvass with him. I declined, explaining that I didn't feel up to talking to people because I was going through a separation and expecting him to leave me to my wallowing, but he kindly stood there and listened, attentively, to my grand romantic drama. As a social worker by trade, he told me that he's seen this sort of matter all the time, and I was impressed by his seemingly genuine interest and compassion. By the time he finally moved on to another voter, he might have told me to have hope (in a brighter future or outcome), I don't remember, but regardless of whether or not he factually did, I did.

Days later, I saw online that his campaign sought Chinese speakers to help the campaign with reaching Chinatown voters. Remembering the kindness he'd shown me, I decided to respond; I had nothing better to do with my time, anyways. Within twenty-four hours, I had a volunteer from his campaign reaching out to me, and I was invited to attend one of their canvassing kick-offs. That time, I accepted.

Although I'd never before canvassed for anything or anyone, my first shift was everything I expected. I was paired with two experienced volunteers, and together the three of us took to door-knocking block by block across Chinatown. We traipsed up and down apartment complex stairs, the two of them leading conversations with anyone that answered their door so that I could learn the ropes. One group of elderly Fujianese residents invited us into their home for tea, during which we get to know them and share with them our personal phone numbers in case they need help with anything, particularly because their English skills are essentially nonexistent. Determined to be useful, I gradually progressed to interacting with potential voters myself, explaining why I believed Illapa to be the best candidate for the position.

Between apartments, I explained to my partners my motivations for joining the campaign: I was depressed from my breakup and needed to get myself out of my rut, and I was already sympathetic to DSA's politics anyways. We spent the final half-hour of my very first shift chatting with a former investment banker, who schooled us on revolving debt and photographed the three of us—I’m wary of how my photo will be used, but I didn't decline quickly enough.

Back at the campaign office for our official debrief with the rest of the team and a barbecue dinner, I ran into Illapa himself, who remembered me and my heartbreak. He reminded me to stay strong because my ex-boyfriend wasn't worth all the unhappiness and introduced me to the rest of his compatriots, remarking to them that we'd come full circle from him canvassing me to me canvassing for him. I joked that I intended to vote for Grace; he playfully snarked back at me.

My subsequent canvassing shifts were similar. Paired with other bilingual volunteers, I came to get to know them, and after every shift we ended up hanging out together, whether in a park or the campaign office or a local restaurant. With every new friend I made, I felt my heart heal. We recommended books to each other and made plans to watch obscure films together, and above all we were steadfast in our belief that a better society was achievable.

When all the votes for that primary election were tallied, the result was a resounding defeat. Our campaign was outspent. Still, that didn't impede the more stubborn members of our group from their organizer impulses. We spent the following months in brainstorming sessions, taking a leaf from DSA's book to figure out how to make the best use of our ragtag collective, united by our language capabilities and commitment to material change. We had people from every industry, we were residents from all over New York City, and we rationalized that we, a group of around thirty individuals, had power together.

For the next couple of years, we ran concurrent projects staffed according to skill sets and interest. Some of us taught free English classes in Chinese neighborhoods, while others provided housing support and unionized renters. When conservatives set drag queen storytelling events as the target of their ire, I organized Chinese translations for pamphlets and flyers explaining why such protests were, at best, misguided. Above all, our efforts were guided by the same logic that once inspired the Black Panthers: providing communities with material support and mutual aid is the best preventative measure against reactionary politics.

When my friends despair to me about the results of the 2024 general election, I advise them to not get lost in feeling powerless. Not only is it unhelpful, wallowing is also utterly stagnant—I would know, because I've also been there. Politics is not an inscrutable puzzle; people want to be heard, and building community preempts division. My love life, however, is a different beast altogether.

#a year without water #substack

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