#mirror x yearbook

[tissuesii]

I’ve been drawing a lot heh.. also happy girlfriends day!! And yaoi too!

[ikeuki]

mama a riki behind you ! / 니키

+ syn. riki is so over today—picture day. he encounters someone who he thinks will only make it worse, but surprisingly makes it better?

✷ pairing. nishimura riki x fem!reader ; grumpy x sunshine 🤳 tw. none ! && 811wc. — fluff ★ author’s notes: fake emo alert ‼️ we all saw you giggling through the mirror…

#1 — haiii this is my first post teehee ; i will post a proper introduction later on !!

picture day.

the most useless day, riki liked to call it. he would’ve ditched today but his friends agreed to just take the pictures in the morning and skip afterwards. now he was stuck, standing in this stupidly long line for a two second picture that would be going nowhere except the yearbook. if only he could prevent that from happening too.

riki just slouched against the gym wall, counting the minutes in his head before the period was over. the gym was filled with mindless chatter and camera shutters from every corner.

with common last names, all his friends texted him that they finished hours ago. they had already jumped the school fences and we’re hanging out, leaving riki to be stuck in this humid gym alone.

alas, he closed his eyes in an attempt to at least catch a couple minutes of sleep in these boring moments.

click. clack. click.

his eyes shot open. ‘what the hell is that sound?’ he thought to himself and searched for the maker of the sound.

he looked straight ahead to see you continuously tapping your shoe while holding a compact mirror. you applied a thin layer of lip gloss while trying to arrange your delicate curls in the perfect formation.

riki watched from behind as you panicked when a single strand went the other way. you then pulled out a comb and started fixing your part in a hurry as if this line wasn’t going to take another two hours.

then you began practicing smiles—a toothy grin, no teeth, eye smile, and so on! riki couldn’t help but laugh a little when he saw how seriously you were taking this.

he could tell you worked extra hard this morning to look your absolute best. even though he didn’t really know why you would for a school picture?

he had spotted you around school before, your sweet vanilla scent catching his attention when you walked past him. your curls bounced when you practically skipped to class, clutching your pastel notebooks to your chest and that charming smile you always had when talking and laughing to your friends.

wait. why did riki know that? he shouldn’t didn’t care about some random girl in his grade that smelled like sweet syrup!

nope! it’s just the sleep deprivation.

while posing into your small mirror, you caught the glare of riki, locking eyes through the compact. embarrassed, you shut the mirror and shoved it into your pocket. you refused to look behind you and kept your eyes on some random girl’s head in front of you.

you knew riki. more like you knew of him.

he always hung out with such a questionable collection of people—lee heeseung, park jongseong, park sunghoon, and sim jaeyun. always getting caught ditching class or smoking behind the bleachers. you knew better to steer clear of any of their ways. they weren’t even at school half of the time. spending it all in detentions if they decided to come once in a while.

but weirdly enough, you had a soft spot for riki.

only because you remembered him in elementary school, when he was a smaller, sweeter kid who was known as a ‘dance prodigy.’ your friend had attended the same dance studio as him, so you would always see him when visiting to watch your friend.

you had admired his skill and confidence back then, even developing a small crush on the boy.

but your dreams were soon crushed when you overheard him liking some girl in his dance class. therefore, you hadn’t interacted with him since, only a few lingering glances of acknowledging each others’ presences but avoiding anything more.

you think it may because you’re the only person that remembers him from childhood and who he truly is.

but you could just be thinking too much into it.

luckily, your name was called the next second and you quickly walk away from that awkward interaction. you sighed, fixing your hair for one last time and trying a couple more smiles.

“just smile like you always do.” riki whispered as he walked past you towards the exit.

your body tensed up as his shoulder brushed past yours and he turned slightly to look at you one last time before leaving the gym.

for a second, you thought you were imagining him saying anything but knew you were not hallucinating when he looked back. you stood there thinking of what he meant by ‘always do’ before the photographer snapped you out of your trance.

“ms. y/l/n, please sit in the chair.”

hurriedly, you sat on the little black stool and aligned your feet with the markers taped on the gym floor. you moved a couple strands to frame your face how you wanted it and looked straight at the camera.

“okay…now smile.”

and you did. like you always do.

[eris-snow]

2. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, fluff, even more confusion, oh izuku's here

You’re a puzzle that he can’t solve. It perks his interest, but irks him like the screeches of nails on a chalkboard.

“How can you see me?”

Katsuki thinks someone must have hit your head on the piano keys too hard.

Maybe that was the made-up ghost Kaminari was talking about.

“Are you fucking with me?” Katsuki blurts. “You show up here, waltz in like an elephant, and ask how I can see you?”

You frown. “I’m not an elephant.”

“Sure sounded like one.”

Your eyebrows furrow, lips pressed into a hard line like you’re choosing not to argue. In an instant, you brighten like a sunflower with rays of hope shining in your eyes. “D-Do you-um…do you know me—?”

Katsuki stares at you with his best ‘Are you serious’ face, which makes you deflate like a balloon.

“Of course you don’t.”

The silence thickens between the both of you as you shove your hands into your pockets and avert your gaze. Katsuki glances at the boxes, and then back at you.

“I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” You reach out to him but draw back almost immediately like you’d get burned. You take one look at him again, but don’t meet his eyes. “Never mind. Sorry if I creeped you out or anything. Didn’t mean to.”

You breeze past him and jump down the stage, making your way to the double doors at the back of the hall.

His forehead crinkles. “I thought you—”

“Backstage door is locked.”

“Not that!” Katsuki puffs, glaring down at you. “Didn’t you just come, why are you leaving already?”

You mirror his look of confusion. Some guts you have, for looking at him like he’s the crazy one.

“I was here before you even came, Bakugou. You know, playing the piano?”

It takes some time for your words to piece together in his mind, but when he finally understands, you’re already halfway out of the door.

“Hah—?”

You flee from the hall like a spooked deer, leaving him alone in the hall with his colourful array of questions.

Brilliant.

He replays the last 10 minutes, scans through his memories like a hawk and becomes even more confused. He gets that his hearing has been deteriorating but that couldn’t be right. All your playing and not even a peep?

With words of ash on his tongue, he opens the door and is greeted with the rustling of the wind. You’re gone. Bakugou prods at his ears.

He should probably get them checked.

—

It is not stalking. Hell, he doesn’t even know your name.

He thought that finding you was a dime in a dozen, but what he got was a needle in a haystack. He mulled over the yearbooks, which you were conveniently absent from. He tore through the school and kept an eye out for you every opportunity he got.

It was stupid, just how invested he was in his search for you, but he couldn’t quell the curiosity.

Almost felt as if you were a magnet, pulling him towards you with his heart throbbing painfully in his chest.

—

“A ghost?” Izuku gives him a strange look, as if saying ‘I thought you didn’t believe in those’.

“I don’t,” He grits out. “I just wanna know—”

“If I’ve been hearing things from the hall? Yes,” His childhood friend confirms. Katsuki isn’t even surprised anymore that Izuku can read him like a picture book. “But it’s muted. All Might says that it’s a janitor, and honestly, I don’t know what else it could be—”

“I saw a girl in there yesterday. I don’t know if she’s messing with me, but she was apparently there the entire time playing the grand—quit looking at me like I ate your toenails.” He snapped.

Izuku makes a face.

“Visual.”

“Izuku.”

“I know! I’m sorry, I just, I didn’t think you’d take this so seriously.” He giggles, eyes sparkling in amusement. “I wanna see her too. Let me tag along the next time you decide to visit.”

Katsuki backpaddles and swerves to Izuku with the tips of his ears red. “I never said I’d—!”

“Kacchan, we both know you’re gonna go.”

Heat crawls up his face as Izuku hums in response, walking ahead of him. Katsuki shakes his head, strides to meet Izuku’s pace, and cools his blush.

“Fucking mind reader.”

“It’s why I can tell you’re secretly curious about this mysterious—”

“Not. Another. Word.”

—

Katsuki has taken music lessons since he was a brat.

Music was an easy enough language to decipher, and with his perfect pitch, his mother thought that it would be the perfect outlet for his…uh…outbursts.

He’d dropped it in the end but the background knowledge about the subject was handy for the most random situations (Year 1 was a good example when he had to play the drums).

Piano was about as dull as watching paint dry, with all its tiring scales, rereading, replaying and re-fucking memorising what and how he was supposed to play a piece. Why does he have to follow the interpretation of some dead man’s score? He’d play it however he thinks it’s best.

Speaking of, who decided to let an amateur play Chopin’s Ballade No. 1? The arpeggios were messy, the paddling sloppy and most of the sounds blurred together in a murky unpleasant harmony.

“Jesus,” Katsuki rubs his ears, “it’s like she really wants me to blast my own eardrums out.”

Izuku looks at the door’s steel handles, and then back at his childhood friend. “Kacchan, what are you talking about?”

The blond stares at All Might’s successor in disbelief, mouth opening and closing. He refuses to believe he’s the only one who can hear the unprofessional playing.

“Come on.”

Katsuki throws open the double doors and storms into the hall with the Izuku in tow.

“For the love of my ears, stop!”

The music ends abruptly at his voice as Katsuki climbs the stage and pulls away the curtains hiding the piano from view.

“Have you lost your marbles—?” Izuku makes eye contact with you, and his voice dies with its fire.

“Oh.”

You almost fall off the piano seat.

“Do you want to murder me?” You fire back, scrambling off the bench like it would bite your hand off. “Kill a girl for trying to mind her own business—”

“What the fuck did you mean by the ‘I was here before you came’ bullshit?” He snarls, weaving through the curtains to try to catch a proper glance of you. “You have t-minus—”

“Kacchan, you’re scaring her!” Izuku yelped, reeling him back. Good, because murder wouldn’t look too good on his track record.

“I’m so sorry about him. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You visibly soften at Izuku’s apology, your expression unreadable for just a second.

“I can see that,” You reply dryly.

“Is it your quirk? Or some sick joke?” Katsuki guesses, shrugging Izuku off. “I want answers.”

You mutter something Katsuki can’t quite catch, and it makes him almost rip the red drapes that you keep hiding behind.

“Why do you care? Don’t you hero course students have internships to go to and people to save or whatever you shiny celebrities have on your hands?”

Katsuki opens his mouth to answer, before he pauses. You’re right. You’re completely right. Heat roars to the tips of his ears.

“I don’t know.”

Behind his back, the green-haired haired rolls his eyes. “You intrigue him,” He translates.“Kacchan’s bored. No offence, you’re probably the most interesting thing to happen to him in the past year. He finds you—”

“SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE.”

You look thoughtful for a second, before you laugh softly under your breath. You pull the curtains aside, and that’s when he has a really, really good look at you. Your face isn’t memorable. In fact, if it wasn’t for your little stunt in the hall yesterday, he’s sure that he would have forgotten about you.

“Interesting, huh? How ironic.”

With a bow, you greet. “L/n Y/n. Honoured to meet the feared Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight and Deku.”

Izuku blushes all the way down to his neck. “Midoriya’s just fine.”

Y/n L/n. What a plain name. No wonder he doesn’t remember you.

But you do remember his hero name and addressed him as such, so you’re leagues ahead of all the other extras he’s met.

You give both of them a half smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Are you gonna come back here? You know, so I don’t see heaven briefly every time you decide to visit.”

“What is this, your abode?”

“Hell.”

“Same thing.”

“I think what Kacchan means is yes.” Izuku jumps in.

Katsuki whips to his childhood friend with a glare that could kill. “You better sleep with one eye open, dipshit.”

The green bean smiles happily. “I’ll try my luck.”

The piano makes a small noise, and Deku visibly jumps out of his skin as the both of them whip to the instrument. You pull your hands away from the keys. “Sorry. Am I bothering you?”

“Your playing fuckin’ sucks.” Katsuki fires.

You don’t even flinch. Instead, your eyes dim as your lips upturned into a tiny, sad smile.

“I know.”

—

A day later, Katsuki makes an off-hand comment to Izuku about their trip to the school hall.

The greenette’s response was befuddled. “Kacchan, who are you talking about?”

[kebowyre]

Can you draw mirror x yearbook or firepound? :) (both from clash 2 be champion sorry for suggesting stuff you haven’t watched i just don’t see art of them)

i have no idea who any of those characters are but i think i saw fireball and pound in a tiktok video one time so i settled on them

i did a smaller thing for them bc I haven't watched the show (fireball being more messy doesn't relate to it being smaller, I just draw all fires with messy coloring)

(i added the gay tag i THINK their both males i can't remember)

[writing-rat]

High School Crush

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x Kirby Reed

Content: Sisterly love with Tara and Sam, and just fluff.

Summary: Sam had always crushed on Kirby. Now, much older, she has a chance.

WC: 1014

It had been years since Sam left high school, yet an ache to be there at her saddest times would remain, specifically during her freshman year. It was due to one person and she wouldn’t admit it but her sister knew. She noticed that when Sam was sad, she would have the yearbooks openly out from Woodsboro High on one page. Kirby Reed was on that page and it was obvious that Sam had a crush on Kirby. Hell, Sam even trusted Tara with it as she had told her when she was having an awful day.

It was now the current time, and Sam and Tara were at the police station as they had just been attacked by Ghostface and they were tired and wanting to go home. They also wanted to arm themselves just to protect themselves from Ghostface though neither had a gun license. That was when they were excused and they walked out. They planned to just walk past the room where Detective Bailey was before Sam suddenly stopped, causing Tara to widen her eyes and bump into Sam. “Sam! What the hell?” Tara practically whined, pouting before she went in front to drag her out. “Kirby?” Sam immediately asked out loud. That’s when Tara stopped too and looked in before she saw the blonde woman then sent a smirk to Sam, who she was sure was having a heart attack just from the sudden cupid’s arrow. 

“Sam,” she spoke with a smile, going past Wayne before she hugged Sam. Sam hugged back before Kirby smirked. “You’ve grown. You can’t snuggle up into my boobs now like you did when you were a freshman,” Kirby laughed and Sam blushed dark red. 

“I don’t need to hear any of this. I’m going to the bathroom. Adios,” Tara spoke leaving as she was shaking her head. Sam just chuckled, glad Tara was giving them space. 

“So how have you been?” Kirby asked looking up at Sam this time around. When they were in high school she had to look down to speak to Sam. “I’ve been better,” Sam admitted. “How about you? How are you doing after leaving high school and the attacks?” she asked. She was aware Wayne was just watching them.

“I’ve been doing well and I’m now in the FBI. Want to go to a coffee shop to catch up when I’m not on the job and after the attacks?” Kirby asked. Sam smiled, grinning. She could feel her high school crush coming back.

-

It was finally finished. They had killed the new Ghostface’s. Tara was thankful for that and was starting therapy in a week. Sam also had a planned coffee hang-out with Kirby which she was nervous about and also kept changing tops. “Tara, honey! Can you help me out?” Sam called out to her sister, looking at the planned outfits. There was a pair of blue jeans with a tank top, black jeans with just a plain black shirt and a pair of black sweatpants with a long-sleeved shirt. Tara soon wandered in as she was looking at the outfits, knowing what Sam needed help with. 

That’s when she put the long-sleeved shirt and the plain black shirt away in the closet as well as the blue jeans and the ripped jeans. She did it wordlessly as she was nodding. “Grab a jacket now,” Tara spoke with a smile, wanting Sam to have some freedom with the jacket. That’s when Sam put on a blue and grey one and Tara nodded. “That should do,” Tara grinned out. “Thanks, baby,” Sam thanked her. Tara just nodded. “It’s no problem! I just want you to look good for the love of your life,” Tara teased. “Use protection!” she added before leaving. “Tara!” Sam yelled, flustered and covered her face before she shook her head and changed quickly then looked at herself in the mirror. She looked good she had to admit it, she just hoped Kirby would like it. That’s when she grabbed her bag that had her wallet, a taser and her keys. She then grabbed her orange coat and put on her brown boots. “I’ll be home before 5 Tara! I put some money on the side for pizza if I am too late!” Sam called out. “I will also text you when I’m on the way,” she added before she looked around out of instinct, Tara watched her and smiled gently, though she knew this was a habit from paranoia. “Ok! That’s fine,” Tara spoke and nodded as she hugged Sam, who hugged her back before she left for the local coffee shop called ‘Foam Party’. She had put on her coat before putting on her motorbike gloves and helmet then went to the parking lot, getting on it. She hoped Kirby found it hot…

-

It was about a 15-minute ride before she pulled up, happy to see Kirby was staring at her and the motorbike. She was sure she recognised the coat she was wearing after all. That’s when she took the helmet off and locked her bike up before she went inside. “Hey,” she spoke with a soft smile. “Nice bike,” she stated with a small smirk. “Thanks,” Sam spoke flustered. “I’ll pay for the dat-coffee,” Sam added. Kirby didn’t miss the word. “Nope! I asked you on this date therefore I will pay,” Kirby confirmed. Sam blinked in shock before she nodded with a small smile.  

“Thank you,” she thanked Kirby and Kirby smiled, holding her hand. “Order whatever you want baby girl,” Kirby responded. 

“Wait, are we official?” Sam asked. Kirby nodded.

“I did say if we ever met up when we were both over 20 then I would date you,” Kirby teased. Sam smiled and held her hand. “Now tell me what you want,” she added.

“A hot chocolate and a cheese toastie please,” Sam requested and Kirby nodded, getting up as well. 

Sam was happy she got her high school crush. She would protect her with everything and anything she could. Kirby was hers… and she was Kirby’s finally.

[juceynightmare]

dating 101 (18+) part 2 - cody rhodes x reader

my masterlist

dating 101 (18+) masterlist

pairing(s): cody rhodes x reader, roman reigns x reader

warning(s): swearing, mentions of alcohol and marijuana usage

genre(s): college!au, slow burn, fluff

|| previous part || next part ||

y/n awoke to her alarm blaring across the room,. she groaned and shoved her face deeper into her pillow, waiting a few more seconds to see how much longer she could tolerate the noise. eventually though, y/n pushed herself out of her bed and mindlessly walked over to where her phone sat on her desk. orientation day. she thought to herself, reaching her arms above her head as she stretched. y/n grabbed her basket of toiletries, slipped on her slippers, and opened her door, propping it open as she always does. she nodded to cody, who had also just opened his door, and the two walked into the bathroom together.

the two had fallen into this morning routine seamlessly, finding out that they woke up around the same time everyday, and so, they had already gotten used to doing their morning routines alongside each other.

although the bathroom had four sinks, cody and y/n would always use adjacent sinks for their morning routine. it had started the day after they met, when y/n realized she had forgotten her mouthwash and cody offered for her to use his. it had only been 5 days since the ted, cody, and y/n initially met, but the trio had clicked instantly despite their different backgrounds. they balanced each other out in an odd way.

y/n brushed her teeth, staring at cody through the mirror while pulling odd faces to make him laugh as he did the same.

she remembers her hometown friends’ reactions when she sent them a selfie of her hanging out with cody and ted in her room. she thought the photo was innocent enough: y/n was in the middle smiling widely at the camera with ted and cody on either side of her, their faces pushed close together so that they were all in frame. the only thing that she would count as “scandalous” about the photo would be y/n’s flushed cheeks from drinking, and ted and cody’s obviously bloodshot eyes as they were cross-faded beyond belief.

[y/n] they’re almost as cool as you guys, i do need some more girl friends though. the testosterone is sickening everytime they start trying to out-man the other.

[indi] girl is that cody? the dude that got a girl pregnant freshman year and she got an abortion cody? the hot wrestling superstar?

[candice] do you remember when we’d only go watch men’s wrestling for him and y/n didn’t even bother to look at him or hear us out because “he literally looks like everyone else” and she never came to another wrestling event with us

[indi] and NOW she’s casually hang out with him? AND they're obviously drinking and getting high. y/n where’s our invite?

[y/n] guys PLEASEEE it took me a while to recognize him too, i just know him as wrestling superstar and have only really gotten a good look of him in the yearbook before i met him here. we’ve literally been hanging out basically 24/7 since i moved in.

[y/n] oh, and he DOES IN FACT just look like your average guy

[y/n] i still stand by that statement!! i said what i said!

[indi] and what about his physique

[y/n] he’s way more jacked than his face makes out to be

[candice] ok but does he have a kid or what

[indi] 100 bucks says he’s going to be our innocent little y/n’s first kiss

[candice] 200.

[y/n] he doesn’t have a kid and no fucking way i have standards you know!! i’ll put 300 down that he will NOT be my first kiss BUT i WILL have my first kiss this year i’m manifesting it right now, you two are witnesses.

she giggled at the memory, to which cody pointed accusingly at her through the mirror. he spit out his toothpaste, washing off his toothbrush bristles afterwards. “i won, again.” cody mused, his voice still deep with the early morning.

y/n rolled her eyes, spitting out her own toothpaste and washing off her toothbrush as cody rinsed his mouth with mouthwash. “fuck off, i wasn’t laughing at you. i was just thinking about this convo i had with my girls the other day.” she defended herself, which earned her a not-so-convincing “uh-huh” from cody.

she reached into her toiletry bag for her mouthwash that she had bought while out with cody and ted, rinsing her mouth. she spit out the mouthwash after gargling and swishing the mouthwash in her mouth. y/n used her hand to cup water and washed off her mouth. she dried off her mouth with her small washcloth

“we’re in the same group, right?” cody asked, closing up his own toiletry bag. he grabbed a hairtie and brush out of y/n’s toiletry bag and stood behind the girl. cody began to brush back y/n’s hair into a makeshift ponytail, making sure even her babyhairs weren’t in the way of her face, before tying it up. “i’m usually out with the hot girls down the hall and ted gets to spend all day with you to himself until i come back, so take this as your own special cody time for the day.” y/n remembers him musing to her about 3 days ago, when she questioned why cody was waiting up on her when he was far done with his morning routine and was just waiting for her to finish her skincare routine. and so, y/n had jokingly told him to do something useful instead of waiting for her and to her surprise, cody had taken it upon himself to tie her hair up while she got her skincare items out.

“yeah. although i don��t know if i even want to stay for the whole event. did you see how long it’s going to be? we start at 8 and the events don’t end until 6! and then there’s a football game they’re supposedly taking us to at the stadium to wrap it all up! i honestly might just skip that and come back. god knows how fast my social battery runs out when i’m with a large group of people.” y/n huffed, staring into the mirror and beginning her skincare routine.

her gaze would flicker to cody behind her, who would be playing with the girl’s hair by flicking it around. she’ll admit, the first time cody did it y/n was left with a light blush on her cheeks, but that was simply because she had never been so physically close to another human being since being friends with ted and cody. she was quick to find out that the two men were very handsy, and she means respectful handsy. when they were in a crowded street in downtown, she would feel both of their hands against her shoulders, guiding her through the crowd so they wouldn’t lose her. of course, with y/n not being used to so much skinship, would oftentimes hold on to the bottom of their shirts so they wouldn’t have to completely have her against their sides.

“maybe if you weren’t so short we wouldn’t have to walk you through a crowd.” ted would tease her, while cody would muse out “i’m telling you, we should get one of those winnie the pooh backpacks with a leash.”

“but the football game! you gotta come, it’s the first game of the season and i heard the cheerleaders are absolutely stunning.” cody whined, his morning voice fading away as he spoke more. cody stopped playing with y/n’s hair, stepping off to the girl’s side. he turned so his back was to the mirror and reached for his phone in his pocket. he put on clinton kane, knowing y/n’s favorite artist since that was all the girl would listen to in the car, and set his phone on the counter.

“exactly. the cheerleaders are absolutely stunning which means you’re going to flirt with them - or someone else in our group - and bring them back to your room. which means that ted and i will be in my room watching a movie or we’ll be with aj and paige down the hall.” y/n pointed out, nodding her head to the music. cody smiled at her comment, turning back around so he could face the mirror. he began to flex his arms, checking himself out in his reflection.

“do you think they look good?” cody asked, to which earned him a slap on the chest from y/n. he winced in pain initially, laughing off the pain afterwards. “i’ll take that as a yes!”

she rolled her eyes, quickly finishing up her morning routine just as ted walked into the bathroom. “morning teddy!” she greeted him, while cody fistbumped his roommate. ted groaned out something that sounded like a “good morning” in reply before walking into a stall and locking the door.

“come by my room later for some clif bars, i heard the dining commons are only letting people come in with their orientation group when its their group’s time for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. i don’t need you two boys whining in my ears later on about how hungry you are.” she told them, packing up her toiletry bag and shutting it.

“sir yes sir” cody saluted jokingly, which earned him a wide smile from y/n. ted had let out a “yes ms. y/n. of course, ms. y/n” from his stall and y/n and cody left the bathroom.

the two went their separate ways to go get dressed, y/n waving at cody before closing the door behind her.

there was a long day ahead of her, and y/n wasn’t sure if she would be ready for it. at least she had cody in her group, meaning she wouldn’t have to awkwardly stand there and struggle to make friends for a minute or so.

not even 20 minutes later, y/n heard knocking on her door. she finished folding up her pajamas and laid them out on her bed before walking over and unlocking her door. she opened it slightly, walking over to her desk as cody let himself in the room. he propped her door open by the magnet and whistled as he looked over y/n’s outfit. “damn sweetheart, you dressing up all for me?” he teased, walking over to y/n’s minifridge and grabbing a clif bar from the basket that was on top of it.

y/n rolled her eyes at his comment, although she felt her face warm up as a result. “never in a million years, cody. and i’ll have you know, it’s going to be insanely hot today and i don’t want to overheat” she defended herself, reaching for her lotion on her desk and squeezing some on to her hand.

she didn’t think she dressed up all that nicely, but rather she dressed appropriately for the weather that day: a simple black cargo skirt with some chains for accessories and a white and blue cropped argyle sweater vest.

she applied lotion to all parts of her skin that was showing as ted walked into the room. “who are you trying to impress y/n? you look good.” ted mused, catching one of the clif bars that cody tossed over to him. “hey codes, make sure some trash guy doesn’t try any funky business with ms. y/n here, he has to be able to do more push-ups than us if he thinks he even has a chance with her.” he continued, walking over to where cody was as he opened up his clif bar.

ted slung his arm over cody’s shoulder, the other man doing the same to him as they ate their clif bars while watching y/n put on her shoes. the two men got along better than they thought they would, and ted had made it clear to cody that he no longer cared if cody wanted to bring over girls and cody let the other know the same. after all, they had a person across the hall who would happily let them take up space in her room.

“at this point, i feel like i should be telling you two boys to watch yourselves.” y/n laughed, holding up her hand for cody to toss her one of the clif bars as well. she caught it, opened it up, and took a bite out of it. “ok i’m ready, let’s go. cody can you bring my bag?”

ted laughed and pat cody’s back as the latter whined about having to carry out y/n’s tote bag for her. “as much as i’d love to be part of y/n’s group, at least i’m not her little tote bag holder today.” he teased, following y/n out of the room.

cody slung y/n’s tote bag over his shoulder, making sure her phone, wallet, keys, and water bottle were in it before following the two out, shutting and locking the door behind them.

the three made their way out to the quad area where all the students were meeting, ted having split off early on to go find where his group was meeting. currently, y/n was holding on to the bottom of cody’s shirt, walking slightly behind him through the mess of students trying to find their orientation leaders with their large picket signs with a number. she trusted cody enough to be able to not only navigate through the crowd, but to also find the correct group.

y/n hadn’t expected cody to stop suddenly, causing her to crash into his back and let out a small yelp. cody gently took hold of her wrist and pulled her out from behind him, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “don’t worry, i don’t think anyone noticed you embarassing yourself.” he let go of her wrist, laughing as she gently nudged cody’s side.

y/n looked around, realizing that they were standing in a circle with, who she assumes, is their orientation leader in the middle. looking around the group, she counted way too many people for her liking and hoped she didn’t have to do any horrible icebreakers.

“alright it’s 8! welcome everyone to your first year at university! my name is hunter and i’ll be your orientation leader for today! so to start off, let’s begin with an icebreaker! we’ll go around in a circle saying our names, our major, and a fun fact about yourself! i’ll start.” hunter spoke out, loud enough for them to hear him amongst the chaos.

y/n couldn’t believe she jinxed herself.

|| next part ||

[viceroywrites]

reunions and opportunities - chapter one

gary x fem!reader

both of you didn't get the ideal high school experience it would make sense that you both would be dreading the reunion.

little did you know how many doors would open after that.

ao3 version here - chapters on tumblr are slightly rewritten and restructured.

content warning: fic contains smut in later chapters. discussions of mental health including trauma and potential ptsd (aka gary is traumatized).

chapter one - reunions

You assessed your appearance in the mirror after sliding into a dress, not accustomed to dressing up unless it was a special occasion. Messing with the skin-tight material, you huffed, adjusting the front of your dress to make sure it looked right. Blinking in surprise at the nice amount of cleavage the dress had given you, you quickly checked the time on your phone. 

'Fuck... I really don't want to go to this.' You groaned, taking a seat in front of your vanity and making sure your hair wasn’t a mess after wrangling the fabric over your head.  You glance over at the invitation to what every person in their adult years dreads - your high school reunion.

The day had come for you to face the peers you had honestly forgotten about once you stepped foot into college. You had no real enemies, you didn't carry any drama with you from high school - but that was because you were an unknown, practically blending into the scenery of your high school walls.

You were a bit too bookish to really fit into the popular crowd. Freshman year, you had joined a comic book club but when the eager freshman that started it left all of a sudden and most of the guys who took over were quite alienating towards the girls in the club, you left promptly.  You made acquaintances obviously due to projects and assignments, but you never really fit into any group after sophomore year.

No sleepovers, parties, hangouts.

No late nights spent on the phone making memories.

You skipped pretty much every major event the school hosted bar the ones required like graduation.

Hell, you were pretty sure there were no photos of you in the yearbook other than the awkward school photos taken at the beginning of each year.

School, work and home was your routine for those four tedious years. 

"At least, no one will bother you... just get in there, drink to get the nerves out, make small talk if anyone approaches you and get out." You mutter to yourself, applying your lipstick carefully.

---

"What the hell do you mean you can't help me arch tonight?"

Gary winced at his leader's sharp and harsh tone, rubbing the back of his neck. Ever since the Monarch had lost all of his henchman and the Cocoon, and his wife had more pressing issues to deal with as a new Council member, Gary or Henchman 21 was left solo to help the Monarch on his escapades to try and arch Dr. Venture again.

However, tonight, he had to ditch his henchman outfit and wings and put on a nicer outfit - a white button up and slacks from his Kano costume - to attend his high school reunion. 

"Why the hell are you going to your stupid high school reunion, 21? I'm sure it's just going to be a bunch of popular kids who fucking peaked in their teenager years and need this night to be validated. Besides, those pricks probably picked on you too and that's a whole can of worms you do not want to open back up." The Monarch scoffed, waving his hand dismissively as he propped his legs up on the table.

Gary questioned why he even wanted to go too. He missed out on most of his high school years after being kidnapped to join the Monarch at age fifteen. Sure, he got his GED but none of it involved being around the people he had to see tonight. There were a few people he kept up with here and there - mostly his Dungeons and Dragons buddies - but they hadn’t seen him since he transformed into Two-Ton 21.

"I dunno, I missed out on a lot of high school since I left to become a henchman. I didn’t go to prom or any dance… I figured I would make up for lost time. Besides, half those idiots there wouldn’t try to mess with me now.” Gary shrugged, running a lint roller over his white shirt that bulged at the arms from his muscles.

The Monarch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Alright, I’ll let you have this, 21, but all of tomorrow we are doing reconnaissance on Dr. Venture! My wife is out of town for some stupid Guild conference and since she’s still pissed at me, I’m not going.” 

Gary nodded and saluted to his boss before heading out the door.

“Just get in there, drink to get the nerves out, make small talk if anyone approaches you and get out….” He muttered to himself.

-

Your face scrunched up as you took a sip of the punch, immediately pouring out the drink back into the bowl and tossing the cup. “You think after getting out of high school, they would serve quality drinks and not spiked punch that tastes like peppermint schnapps.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

As you had expected, you were still blending into the background. No one had approached you or even noticed you were there. They even stopped you at the door, not believing that you went to school there until you showed them the invitation, told them your name and presented a drivers license.

“Well, this turned out to be a drag…” You mutter, crossing your arms and leaning against the gym bleachers. Your eyes observed your surroundings: everyone had yet again separated into cliques, seemingly discussing how their lives have been since graduation aside from the jocks and preps reminiscing in the glory days, already wasted from the spiked punch.

Gary began to wander around the gymnasium, already having made small talk with a few guys he kept up with from the comic book club although it was difficult to identify him as he had clearly bulked up and gotten fit since his high school days. 

He was relieved that at least someone had taken over after he left though he was a bit disappointed to hear how much the club had derailed from his original vision. 

As he continued to make his way around the entirety of the compact gym, he stopped in his tracks as you came into his line of vision. His eyes took in how the dress clung to your body, accentuating every curve you had. He gulped, not having been this attracted to someone since Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.

However, after snapping out of his fixation on your body, he noticed you were all alone. ‘Huh, that’s odd… figured someone as gorgeous as her would be with someone’ He thought to himself, his eyes gazing over the sea of people mingling. He bit his lip, wondering if he should approach you.

‘Come on, you idiot. She’s all alone, now’s the perfect chance to swoop in!’ The voice of Henchman 24 echoed in his head. Gary rolled his eyes,  ‘Oh my god, will you ever leave me alone?’  The echoing voice persisted, ‘Maybe I will if you make a move.’ 

Gary sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath, “Fine, fine…” He took a deep breath and approached you with a warm smile. “Hey… thought you were looking lonely. Did your friends not show up to the reunion?”

You freeze as soon as Gary approaches you, not ready to make conversation given how sober you are currently. Your eyes quickly darted to the side, “No … I’m… really not close to anyone here to be honest.” You admitted, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear and shrugging. 

Gary’s eyes widened at your response, “Oh man that totally blows, dude.” Your face dropped at his answer and he quickly noticed, stammering out a clarification while rubbing the back of his neck. “W-Well, you’re not alone! Honestly, I don’t know anyone really here either. I left like sophomore year… just know a few guys from the comic book club when I used to run it.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the comic book club and your gaze immediately snapped towards Gary. “Wait… you were the one that ran the comic book club that year? Oh my god, I remember you. That was the one year I was in it… well, I was one of the only girls so it was kind of hard to miss me. You did such an amazing job covering different comics outside of the Marvel and DC franchises and it was so nice to hear about new series!” 

His eyes widened and he looked quite taken aback at your sudden enthusiasm. Internally though, he found your passion so attractive, almost screaming in excitement at the news that you were a geek like him. You quickly noticed, taking his silence as a bad thing, ‘Shit... I just geeked out on this complete stranger…’ 

You quickly apologized, “S-Sorry, if that freaked you out.” 

Gary quickly snapped out of his state of shock and shook his head, “Oh no, no! I’m just shocked that you were a part of the comic book club. I kind of don’t remember a lot from that year and honestly... I wouldn’t expect someone as pretty as you to be into that kind of stuff…” He admitted, chuckling nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. He quickly put out his hand, smiling awkwardly, “I’m Gary, pleased to make your acquaintance, m’lady.” 

A pink blush spread across your cheeks and you giggled softly at his quirkiness, “Pleased to make your acquaintance as well, I’m [y/n].” You took his hand and gave it a firm shake. 

‘Talk to her. Preferably not here, it’s totally killing the vibe and you’re practically screaming over this lame music.’ 24’s voice echoes in Gary’s head.

Gary held onto your hand and smiled back at you, “Hey, it’s kind of getting stuffy and crowded in here and I really don’t want to yell over this music just to talk to you. Wanna ditch this lame thing and grab something to eat? My treat.” You nod eagerly, a wide grin across your face. His expression brightens as he takes you by the hand out of the stuffy gymnasium.

‘Maybe coming to this lame reunion wasn’t such a bad idea.’ Both of you thought as you got into your car and headed towards the nearest diner. 

[huipinkhair]

Introverts - Zhang Hao x Reader

Final Chapter - Look at me, Y/N~

Synopsis - Zhang Hao was made the student council vice president against his will, when all he wanted was to get through high school quietly. He found himself drawn to the shy member of a student-made band, and has been crushing on them for months. He knows he needs to get his shit together before they graduate and go their separate ways, but doesn’t know if he can break out of his shell in time, or even bother at all.

Taglist - @hwangsm1le @zerobaseonefics @mins-fins @kpoprhia @haesunflower @big-uwu-stan @harus-simp @seungminiesgf @cherriegyu

Written Part - DEFINITELY DONT MISS THIS ONE - 1.7k words

You tap your leg anxiously while sitting in your living room, anticipation building as you wait for Hao to arrive. Standing up, you adjust your outfit meticulously to avoid any creases, glancing at yourself in the hallway mirror. The sound of a brief horn from outside signals your date's arrival. Hastily fixing your hair one last time, you step out to greet Hao.

Leaning against the car's hood, Hao holds his phone in one hand and keeps the other in his pocket. His predominantly black suit stands out with a vibrant red tie, perfectly matching your outfit. His intentionally tousled hair adds to his charm, and his eyes light up as he looks up at you.

"Oh, my god. Hi, wow, you look beautiful," he breathlessly exclaims, taking your hand in his. You nervously laugh, glancing down at your intertwined hands.

"I, thank you, you do, too," you mumble, "aren't we cute, matching like this" you tug a little on his tie. He chuckles, his cheeks flushing pink.

He guides you over to the passenger door of his car, opening it for you before getting in his side and getting you both on your way.

~~~

Pulling up to the hotel the prom was being hosted in, you look in awe at the grandeur this event seemed to have.

"Hanbin really went all out for this, huh?" Hao smiles, unbuckling his seat belt.

"It wasn't just him, the whole council wanted to make this as special as we could. Took the school board a lot of convincing, though." He explains, opening his door and stepping out. He walks over to your side, opening the door and holding his hand out for you. You take it, stepping out gingerly before linking his arm.

Approaching the entrance, a member of the yearbook club waves you over, calling for a picture of the vice president and his date, you glance up at Hao, and he's beaming at the idea. You pose together for a couple of pictures, his hands resting around your waist or on the small of your back, before stepping inside for what you can only describe as the best night of your life.

~~~

Throughout the night, both your groups merged, dancing and enjoying each other's company, but Hao never strays from your side. You catch him stealing glances at you, and you hope your blushing face isn't too evident before you have to go up on stage.

Hanbin places a hand on your arm, accompanied by Keita, Kamden, and Jay.

"You ready? Hao and I have got to go introduce you in a minute." He says softly, looking like he's genuinely nervous for you. You and your band had had a discussion with him about tonight, you expressing that you really didn't think it was a good idea due to you never performing in front of so many people before. You swallow hard, and nod at him slightly. He smiles and grabs Hao, who up until this point never had his hand off of you, and you find yourself instantly missing his touch as he gets pulled through the crowd.

Jay side hugs you at the shoulder, his excitement palpable. "We're going to do great! Just like we rehearsed, yeah?" he reassures you, and you can't help but laugh at his infectious energy. Keita appears calm as ever, while Kamden shares your nervousness. Placing your hands together, you cheer each other on, mentally preparing for the moment.

"Hello, Planet High! I'm your Student Council President, Sung Hanbin!" you glance over at the front stage, where Hanbin and Hao stand behind two standing microphones, looking like radiant beings under the stage lights.

"And I'm your VP, Zhang Hao!" Hao continues. They both wave out to the room, being met with cheers and applause.

"We hope you're having a wonderful time! The student council and I worked tirelessly to make this event special for you, so make sure to enjoy it to the fullest!" Hanbin announces, gesturing towards your group, where Matthew and a few others wave up at them, their faces filled with joy.

"We have a special performance for you tonight," Hao declares, as Gunwook excitedly shakes your shoulders from behind, nearly throwing you off balance. You laugh and playfully push him away, teasing him about his enthusiastic nature.

"So, if we can ask Terazono Keita, Na Kamden, Jay Chang, and Y/N, better known as Overdose, to come up on stage!" Hao steps back from the microphone and joins the crowd in clapping.

The four of you hold hands as you make your way through the crowd in a line, ascending the stairs to the stage. Taking your positions between the two student council members, with Jay on your left and Keita on your right, two additional microphones are added to the stage. Hanbin and Hao exit the stage, joining the rest of your large group. You catch a glimpse of Gunwook shaking Hao's shoulders just as he did to you moments ago, which brings a smile to your face.

"So, hey everyone! We're Overdose!" Jay begins, provoking cheers and applause. "We have a special song for you tonight that we worked on with a very close friend of ours, Hui!" The crowd erupts in cheers, reminding you of Hui's popularity throughout the school. You make a mental note to express your gratitude to him later.

"Make sure you get up and dance to this one, okay? It's called 'Sha La La'!" Jay announces, nodding to the DJ to start the music. Feeling like the crowd can hear your racing heart through the microphone, you quickly scan the audience but keep your eyes fixed on your group of friends throughout the performance.

SHA LA LA - Pentagon

As your song concludes, the crowd explodes into cheers. Looking over at your friends, you see Gunwook practically jumping over everyone, cheering wildly for the four of you. You stifle a laugh and wave back, receiving enthusiastic thumbs-ups and cheers in return. Calls for an encore start to echo through the venue, leaving you wide-eyed as you turn to Keita beside you. He shrugs, exchanging bewildered looks with Jay. Jay then nods at Kamden, who heads down to the DJ at the side of the stage, retrieving something from his pocket.

"Alright! Thank you all so much. We're thrilled that you enjoyed that one! We don't have many published songs just yet, BUT perhaps you've heard of this one, made by myself and Y/N! This is 'Over Me'!" Kamden rushes back to the stage, taking his place, and you swiftly adjust to the unexpected turn of events.

Just as in rehearsals, you co-created this song! You've got this!

Over Me - Overdose

As you conclude your second song, once again, the crowd erupts into cheers, and you can feel tears welling up. You fan your face slightly, trying to cool down and prevent your eyes from getting teary.

"Okay! Thank you all for listening. We hope you have a fantastic rest of the night!" Jay calls out, and you all shout into the microphones, "We're Overdose! Thank you!" Exiting the stage, the sound of the cheering crowd lingers in your ears.

~~~

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, dancing, singing and heartfelt moments between yourself and your friends. Many students had come up to you and your band complimenting you about your performance, and you could feel yourself hiding behind your members, slowly getting overwhelmed with all the attention. Hao returns to your side, slipping an arm around your waist and offering you a comforting smile. Your cheeks instantly heat up again, and you almost feel yourself leaning into him for support, both physically and emotionally.

"You're doing great," he says against your ear, trying to make sure you can hear him over the music. His face being so close to yours makes you scream in your mind, and you nod and look down at the ground, shuffling your feet. You feel his hand on your chin as he tilts your head up to look at him. His face looks like a mix of worry and reassurance, and you avert your eyes before you forget how to breathe.

"Look at me, Y/N~" he singsongs, making you smile as you meet his eyes.

"If you feel like you need to leave, you'll tell me, okay?" He says seriously, to which you nod, and he lets your head go, still remaining at your side.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU KISS THEM YOU IDIOT!" You hear Ricky shout over the music, who was a little bit away from you both. Hao's eyes go wide and he looks back down at you. You let out a laugh before looking back up at him.

"I... can i?" he asks, turning to face you fully. Your heart flutters.

Oh my god, okay, it's happening.

"Yeah, yes, yes you can." You respond, and as if time slowed down so a second takes a minute, Hao's lips land on yours. This causes those of your friends who are still around you to cheer and jump over you both, and you hear a lot of "Finally!"'s and "Thank GOD"'s.

~~~

The night was coming to a close, and all the slow dance songs had started to play. Hao had dragged you onto the dance floor, resting his hands around your waist, and your hands around his neck.

"You really were incredible tonight," Hao says in a low tone, moving a hair out of your eyes. You smile and look down before returning back to him.

"Thank you, Haohao," you say, adopting the nickname his friends gave him. He blushes and chuckles softly. "It's a pretty good first date, huh?" You look around the room.

It really did feel perfect. The setting, the outfits, the event, everything felt magical.

"So, where do you want to go for the second?" He asks you, his eyes never leaving you.

"Oh? There's going to be a second?" You tease, cocking your head to one side. He rolls his eyes and pecks you on the lips.

"Y/N, would you do me the honour of being with me so I can take you on a million dates?" He exaggerates, taking your hand in his and kissing it dramatically. You stifle a laugh, as does he.

"Yes Hao, I would love to."

And at least you now can graduate without needing to ask 'what if?'

[hellcheer-prompts]

ok I have an idea for a body swap fic but I don’t have it totally fleshed out maybe someone else can fill in the gaps and figure out where to go with it

So eddie and Chrissy swap bodies (idk how or why they’re stuck with this curse)

but part of the curse is they can’t look in any mirrors or hear anyone say their name like it just sounds like muffled gibberish if anyone addresses them by name

so kinda like some rumplestiltskin shit they both have to figure out who’s body they’re in

Eddie figures out right away that he’s a cheerleader so he goes to the yearbook club and gets the cheerleaders yearbook photo and starts drawing X’s over the faces of all the cheerleaders he sees because they’re not him

Process of elimination, he looks psychotic, he figures out he’s in Chrissy’s body.

But he can’t figure out why he can’t switch back? He solved it!

But Chrissy has to solve it too and she isn’t even trying. She’s in no rush to go back to her own body. She likes whoever’s this is.

She skipped school today and no one gave a shit. She slept late, ate whatever she wanted, played with a dog outside, smoked some weed, ate some more. And no one yelled at her or called her fat.

Eddie tried to go to his trailer to talk to “himself” but that’s also part of the curse. He can’t.

So he doesn’t know what to do.

(And neither do i, I don’t know what would come after that)

X

[honeybeeloxs]

Big Gulp

Ashley Freund x Ashlyn Halperin

First work of this series, really love these valley girls. However, It's kind of platonic throughout the fic until kind of the end I suppose.

Ashley and Ashlyn have been best friends forever; they match outfits, have lockers by each other, and even go on road trips together.

Part Two

DRING…

The bell rang over the intercom as Ashley walked out of World History, pulling her Motorola from her shirt. “Hey Lynn, he gave me a C-.” Ashley says, “Well, lucky you, he gave me a D.” Ashlyn responds, walking up to her friend before closing her Motorola and putting it in her bag before walking over to their lockers, pushing past a few students, “My dad is going to put a fire under my ass.” Ashlyn babbles as she puts on her hot pink raincoat; fixing her hair in the mirror, she slams the locker shut. She looks at Ashley, who’s still fumbling with her lock,  “I was thinking about hitting the tanning salon.” She says, looking back at Ashlyn leaning on her locker.

The two girls sit on a table, with pink and blue bookbags lying lazily, Ashlyn writing in her yearbook while Ashley leans on her shoulder, “Hey, Look.” she says, making Ashlyn look up, “We should invite her,”  Ashlyn looks at Ashley, “You think…?” she questions her, Ashley snatches her pen and writes in her tiny notebook, ripping out the page violently. “Hey, Wen?” Ashley calls out to the brunette girl, hopping off the table with Ashlyn on her heels. To avoid getting their hair wet, both girls hold a notebook and a yearbook over their heads. “Me and Ashlyn are going to the Tanning Salon to prepare for graduation, and we are so totally cool if you wanna come with us.” Ashley says to Wendy, “Totally….” Ashlyn comments, “And just like… talk? Here’s my cell.” Ashley gives Wendy the page with her number written, “I already have your number.” she adds; Wendy hesitantly takes the number out of hand, staring at it before crumpling it up and shoving it in her jacket pocket but by the time she does that the two girls have already turned around walking back to their table.

Ashley pulled into a Seven-Eleven, slamming the brakes as she pulled into a parking spot, the brakes making a screeching sound as they stopped. Ashley put her Raspberry colored Jeep into park and put her hair up into a ponytail, “You coming in?” she asked Ashlyn, who had begun putting her hair up, “No, ill pass this time,” Ashlyn responded, still trying to pin her hair, Ashley opened the door and shut it, walking into the Seven-Eleven a tiny bell rang as she began to stalk through the aisles. “Ugh… Gross.” Ashley said, throwing the chips back onto the shelf before walking to the ‘Big Gulp’ Slushie Machine. Ashley picked up a 24 OZ. Big Gulp cup putting it underneath the level, “Seriously?” Ashley muttered as she eyed all the flavors besides Cherry out of commission; the red light flickered. Ashley got closer, watching it before tapping the light. The light flickered off, only for a moment, until the light flickered back on. Ashley pulled the lever watching the slush pour out into the cup; a cold breeze fell upon the blonde, who looked over her shoulder before shrugging it off, putting lids on the two cups, and walking to the counter.

Ashlyn sat in Ashley’s jeep, pinning her hair with butterfly clips, the rain pounding on the windshield; the Driver’s door opened, and in came Ashley, who slammed it shut, “Didn’t know what you wanted; so, I got you a cherry slush, That fine, right?” Ashley’s eyebrows rose as she stared at the brunette, who nodded in approval; Ashley’s hair was now pulled into a slick ponytail, and loose hairs lay on her wet head as she started the car. Pulling out of the gas station and heading to the Tanning Salon, “You think she’ll come?” Ashlyn asked her friend while sipping from the Big Gulp, “Knowing her, probably not; the girl is totally depressed after losing her boyfriend.” Ashley commented; Ashlyn looked at her. “Well, I don’t know. I think it was nice of us,” she said as they pulled into the Tanning Salon; by the time they got there, Ashley had already finished her Big Gulp, basically. 

A soft chime rings as the two girls enter the Salon, walking up to the front desk. Ashlyn looks around and rings the desk bell; a ring draws Yuri, the Receptionist, out of the back door, who seems to be arguing with someone on the phone; he waves at the two girls before yelling over the phone again; Ashlyn turns around to face Ashley, “Every time we come here…”.she says as she sips her Big Gulp, Ashley turns around and walks behind the desk, opening a glass jar filled with Tanning Goggles, “I was thinking for going 20 minutes in the muller.” she says before grabbing a few and walking back, “Well, we did that a few weeks ago, and we’re still pretty bronzed” Ashlyn says as she takes a sip. “I was just thinking we could go just for a tune-up,” she adds to her previous statement. Ashley stops. “I just want to make sure we look our best, Y’know, for all those kids that died and won’t get a graduation.” she says, looking at her best friend, “You’re totally right; I’m sorry,” Ashlyn says as she fist bumps her.

In comes Yuri, who apologizes for the wait, telling the girls about his girl back home, Tanya. “Why don’t you just use THAT phone,” Ashlyn says, looking up at Yuri. Yuri pauses momentarily, “I would, but she talks too much, and my boss gives me shit.” he tells the brunette. The phone began to ring again, “Shit.” he comments; Ashley scoffs and turns around, sipping up the last few chunks of her Big Gulp. “You know what, you can take that outside; we can handle this.” Ashlyn smiles, and Yuri walks around the counter and towards the back. Hearing Ashley slurping, he turns around, “Hey, this time, No Drinks.” Yuri says to Ashley, who rolls her eyes before grabbing her and Ashlyn’s slushies and shaking them while walking over to the trashcan; Yuri gives her a thumbs up before turning around and answering the call. Ashley dumps Ashlyn’s slushie but not her own, continuing to slurp on the straw as she looks at a girl up and down who has just started to leave. “Hey, what are you doing?” Ashley says as she looks at Ashlyn, writing on a piece of paper, “No one’s walking in here and seeing me naked.” she smiles as she tapes the paper to the door and locks it.

Wendy sits in her room at her desk, looking through the digital camera she took pictures on for the yearbook; flipping through photo to photo, Wendy focuses on a photo of Jason. Wendy hooked the camera up to her computer, hoping to see Jason’s photo; she stared at him in the same position as the Devil mascot for the Roller Coaster; in the background, she noticed the roller coaster behind him, looking like it was crashing into his head. “Oh, my god….” she mutters under her breath; she flips through more of the photos to confirm her suspicion.

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 14 - Redrum

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

18+ | 2kish Words | Third-person omniscient | Dark!fic/Angst | AU/AT |

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Physical and emotional abuse of a minor, lots of angst, alcohol, painkillers, marijuana mention, homophobia, violence, tw! SA, death mention

A/N: This chapter is heavy, please be careful and read the tags. There are periodic flashback chapters, this is one of them. I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"He told me in due time everything will be fine You could always flip your soul for like $9.99 Watch these problems go away and your family will be straight Just know you'll never get to see the gold on Heaven's gates" -"Redrum" by 99 Neighbors 

Moni's mother didn't need much convincing to allow her to stay the night with Ericka. The girls hatched a plan to bring it up with Ericka's parents first, then Moni's ma, then have them call each other. Somehow, it worked out perfectly, and they were in pajamas listening to music in Ericka's bedroom that very weekend. 

"What about Kimmy?" Moni asked as she pointed to a photo of a cute girl with glasses in their senior yearbook they had received the day before. The song "Like A Stone" by Audioslave played softly from the CD player as Ericka eyed the photo for a moment and shook her head,

"She's nice but not my type." 

"I don't think your type exists. You've shot down every suggestion I've made!" Moni said as she closed the book and placed it between them on the bed. Ericka shrugged,

"Only because I don't like them!"

"Shit, at this point, I think you just wanna kiss me," Moni joked. Her friend pursed her mouth and allowed her eyes to drift to Moni's lips. Moni noticed this but dismissed it in her mind even as her hands grew clammy. 

"Not unless you're good at it," Ericka stated, tone lighthearted. Moni matched her style,

"I've never had any complaints," She played cocky to impress her, as Ericka was the coolest girl she'd ever known.

The girls laughed nervously, Ericka with total concentration on Moni, having a slight crush on the girl for quite some time. On the other hand, Moni wasn't sure and certainly didn't think Ericka felt that way. 

"Then can I kiss you?" Ericka asked reluctantly. Moni was stunned and nearly frozen at the question. One half of her brain told her no, and the other told her yes, please. What came from her mouth was a compromise.

"If you want to," Moni replied, slowly moving the hardcover picturebook to the other side of her body. She wasn't sure if Ericka was joking anymore and almost passed it off as one until Ericka went for it, placing slightly puckered lips to Moni's unprepared mouth. 

Moni couldn't tell if she was into it or not but guided Ericka through the kiss the only way she'd ever known them to be. Regardless of the strange sensation that mirrored anxiety, kissing Ericka was easier than kissing any boy. Her heart fluttered just as well. 

Ericka's plush lips felt like crushed velvet and tasted like the strawberry milkshake she sipped. She smelled like flowers and citrus and all of the nice things that Moni had never noticed before then, now so close she could hear her heart race with each brush of their tongues. A rock formed in the pit of her stomach-

Is this what it's supposed to feel like? 

The girls were abruptly interrupted by Ericka's bedroom door creaking open quickly, causing them to kick away from each other in a panic as Ericka's mother's face went from delight to sheer horror.

"Mom, I-" 

"We were just-"

They both started but were cut off right away. 

"I think you need to leave, Simone." Erika's mother said, face stern and arms crossed. 

Simone grabbed her overnight bag and started walking back home, fearful of what Ericka's parents would do. If they were anything like Moni's mom, it would be rough. 

Moni found that she had no way out of this one when she arrived home to find her mother standing, waiting for her with the phone in her hand. What seemed to worry Moni the most was that there were tiny sheets of paper spread around the table, the notes from inside Loser Jones and the doctor's notes she had practiced forging to get out of school. 

Along with all of that was a small plastic baggy with a little bit of pot in it that she was tasked to hold onto by Ericka. She stared at the contraband intensely, amazed at how her mother yelled more about the sex notes and her "homosexuality" than the drugs. 

This would be the final straw. This was the night when it was decided that she would be sent to stay with her tío.

  Uncle Luis was Moni's father's eldest brother and the only one out of 3 uncles who happened to still be alive at the time despite his habits. He would claim it was because God willed it to be, but Moni and Marc would joke that it was because it was hard to kill a cockroach. 

He was a big guy with a beer gut and an appetite for whiskey, painkillers, and young women. Nobody seemed to know his cap on "how young is too young?" though. He happened to be Moni's godfather, as well and offered to help raise her after her father went in the clink. Estefania declined for pride's sake, but Luis kept the offer on the table and pushed harder the older Moni got. 

This was a red flag for Moni that went unnoticed by her mamá.

Once Moni arrived at the old man's house, it was clear he smoked like a train and drank like a mule by the state of the place. The house was a two-bedroom, one-bath, so the space wasn't copious, to begin with. The addition of the empty liquor bottles that flooded the place didn't help, and the overflowing ashtrays on every surface made matters worse. 

She was tasked with cleaning, cooking, and preparing his drinks, as well as upholding the rules of only wearing long skirts and dresses around the house, saying grace before every meal, and never listening to secular music. It was like being part of a fucked up cult with the added bonus of getting to sneak the least smoked butts out of the ashtrays for safekeeping before dumping them out.

The old man's policies were bearable compared to what he did when he was filled with oxycodone and hard liquor. That was when the holy man everyone assumed him to be did things he would only repeat in confessional and expect to atone for through a few Hail Marys. 

Moni couldn't do much about the arrangement due to her age and graduation being a mere month away. She tried to sneak a call to her mother, hoping she would let her come home, but all Moni got was an earful of Spanish expletives and a paddle to her rear when tío Luis caught her using the phone. 

There was never a waking moment where Moni wasn't uncomfortable in that house. If she did anything wrong, she got paddled. If he did anything right, she got her uncle's idea of positive reinforcement, which was just making her sit on his lap while he told her how special and beautiful she was. 

Aside from trying to feel clean by scrubbing herself raw every day in the shower, she started smoking the butts she saved once the old man was passed out for the night. She relished the burning sensation of the too-hot tip between her fingers and lips when the tobacco was too low to smoke. It made her feel more comfortable than that place did and gave her a modicum of control.

She often dreamt of Marc busting her out of there like he said he would. She still missed him and even kept his note to her in her Chuck Taylor shoe box. 

As for her friendship with Ericka, they were only allowed to see each other in class and mass. Mrs. Fatu was convinced that Moni was at fault for kissing her daughter, and everyone who heard about what happened had the same idea. 

As always, Moni was the bad kid. Corruptor. Sinner. Whore. It became clear that her mother sent her away for reformation and to save herself the embarrassment of having to stick up for her daughter to clear her own image. 

After three weeks at her tío's, the final straw for Moni was when the disgusting man pressed himself against her while she was cooking dinner, grinding against her buttocks as she silently wept. The tears ran down her cheeks as she felt a scream trapped in her lungs, refusing to escape like a fever dream. She was seventeen, but her mind regressed to ten years old, powerless to stop it. Mushy, fresh-faced, spineless. All she could do was stare blankly at the nicotine-stained backsplash and blink. 

Do you need help? Blink once for yes, twice for no.

She was trapped in her own body between the old man and the stove for what felt like an eternity, sinking closer and closer to the gas burner and imagining the flame catching her dress. 

It would be better. 

Her breath was caught in her windpipe, and declined to move, afraid of the exhale sounding pleasurable. 

Don't let him hear you breathe. Don't give him the satisfaction. 

Then it was over; the back of her dress was damp, and her pancakes had burned.

That was the day she decided to kill her uncle. After a lifetime of being told that the things happening around her weren't true-

You're a liar. You remember things wrong. You're a temptress. You're a whore. You deserved it. You don't know what pain is.

That damp fabric patch on her bottom reminded her that what happened was real. There was no faking what happened, no imagining it. Though nobody else would believe her-

I know what happened. I know everything that happened under this roof. I'll be damned if I don't do something to stop it. You'll go to hell for this, and I'll see you there.

Tío should have never trusted her with his drinks, as it was ultimately her crushing five of his pills into the whiskey he nearly drowned himself in every night that ended his life. She pulverized the pills into the finest white powder she could. She tasted the concoction with her fingertip when she mixed it up: it tasted like poison. He wouldn't know the difference. 

The big fish eat the little ones until the little fish think faster.

When Moni called the police the following morning, she swore she could be a politician, utterly devoid of all blame. She cried and shed hot tears and snot, but not for him or his soul. They didn't suspect her and ruled it an accidental overdose. 

May he rest in piss.

  Her mother was terrified of her after that. She knew what had happened just as well as Moni did. 

"¡Regresa al infierno! ¡demonio!" Her mother yelled at her when she came home, tears in her eyes and rosary in hand. Mamá told her to go to hell. Called her the devil. 

Moni felt like she had already been there and saw red as her mother screamed at the sight of her only daughter.

Me? The devil? Even with what that sicko did? 

In her rage, she tried to rip the religious beads from her mother's hands, and they broke, scattering them all over the floor with small ticks as they bounced across the tile. Moni had never seen her mother cry before. She would never see her cry again.

Due to her suspension, she couldn't walk the stage with her classmates but still received her diploma and graduated on the principal's roll. Moni got a job at a local deli and made enough money in tips to get a laptop. That cheap Dell started Simone's journey, meeting Joyce and getting her scholarships. That was it for her time in Chi-town. 

[fardell24b]

Spider Quinn 12 Rise of the Green Goblin - Part 4

In the bathroom, Daria looked in the mirror. She saw herself and Quinn, two sisters who were more alike than she would have expected before her father passed. One with auburn hair that was longer than it had ever been and round spectacles. The other with shoulder length dyed brown hair caught up in high pigtails, as it had been most of the time since the funeral (and it was obvious to her that Quinn was continuing to dye her hair, as her roots weren’t visible).

“OK, so, I’ll just trim it at the bottom, where there are split ends,” Quinn said. “But what about your bangs?”

Daria moved a hand through her bangs where they hung over the top of her glasses. “I’ll grow those out too. I guess I’ll need a couple of clips soon.”

“I guess you’ll be looking for plain ones,” Quinn said with a giggle.

“Of course.”

As she began, Quinn considered that Daria definitely wouldn’t have trusted her to trim her hair before she became SpiderGirl. ‘But she can’t know. She wouldn’t understand, and I don’t want her to be in danger as a result. That’s the main reason why I’ll be making these modifications slowly.’

Daria was also thinking as Quinn was trimming her hair. ‘I don’t know what the future will hold, but I know that we’ll survive High School in Lawndale.’

Quinn took her time, as she usually did when she did someone’s hair. She felt the trust that Daria had given her, trust that didn’t come easily. “I have done the bottom,” she said.

Daria took off her glasses and closed her eyes, ready for her sister to trim her bangs. “Alright.”

Quinn carefully snipped at the split ends she found in the bangs and saw her sister’s eyelids twitch as she waited. She didn’t take long.

“Done,” Quinn said. Daria opened her eyes and put on her glasses. She saw that her hair looked better than it did before. “Thanks, Quinn,” she said with a rare smile.

Trent answered the phone. “Hey, Daria. Janie is out on a run.”

“I see. I just wanted to tell Jane something.”

“What about.”

“Oh, Quinn and my hair.”

“What about Quinn and your hair?”

“I’d like to tell her first.”

“Sure, I’ll let her know you called when she gets back.”

“Thanks, Trent.”

The Shadow was downtown, near the Historia. She was watching as Stacy and Joey finished their evening shift. She didn’t want anything to happen that would jeopardise the vision of the Historia as Daria laid out during the opening. After five minutes Stacy and Joey drove off, leaving the Shadow relieved. She then continued her patrol of that stretch of Main Street.

At the same time, Sandi had her yearbook from the previous year open, along with an energy drink. She was ready to start to try to locate the secret identity of the heroes, especially SpiderGirl. ‘But one at a time,’ she had decided, as in one per evening. That would take time, possibly months, but that would be better than her overextending her ability every night. She located the first female freshman (now sophomore) in the yearbook. “Elly Aitkin,” she considered, looking at the short haired blonde on the page.

She barely knew her, but that was fine.

Sandi downed the energy drink. She then closed her eyes and chanted; “Finndu mann sem heitir: Elly Aitkin!”

At first she perceived herself and her room, as she usually did when she used her locate ability. Then her perception expanded out into the streetscape of Lawndale.

At first, the perception close to her house was colorful, as she perceived the inside of her neighbors’ houses along with the yards and the streets. But as it extended outwards it grew more vague as more information flooded into her mind. Then her perception narrowed in as Elly Aitkin was located halfway across town, in a house not far from the High School. It appeared that she was doing her homework while watching some animated show on her TV.

Sandi then returned her perception to normal and opened her eyes. She marked a small ‘x’ next to Elly Aitkin’s picture. “One down,” she said, with fatigue in her voice.

At the same time, as she was cleaning up the small amount of Daria’s hair in the bathroom, Quinn felt something. Her Spider Sense tingled briefly, at a low volume. ‘What was that?’ she asked herself. She finished cleaning up the hair and then went into her room and looked out the windows. ‘Nothing,’ she thought. Yet there was something, or someone, in Lawndale that was searching for something to do with her secret, she was sure of it. ‘What else is new,’ she thought as she put away the copy of the blueprints and took out her homework.

After recovering from searching for Elly Aiken, Sandi decided to do something else, practice using her other powers.

Linda went out into the backyard and saw Sandi taking shots at old tin cans using her powers. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Practicing, trying to improve my aim.”

“I noticed you searched for someone earlier.”

“So?” Sandi asked as she took another shot and hit one of the tin cans.

“So, what are you up to, Cassandra?”

“SpiderGirl, she confronted me in my room.”

“When was this?”

“Just after the Fashion Club ended, not recently,” Sandi answered as she took another shot.

“I see. You want to know who she is, then confront her. What then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Meaning, are you just going to keep fighting her?” Linda asked. “You know that our powers can have a deleterious affect on people.”

“Because you told me. I haven’t actually seen it.”

“I have, it’s not good.”

“So, tell me!” Sandi said. “All you have said is that it’s deleterious.”

Linda shot at one of the cans herself, knocking it down. “They disrupt neural pathways, causing temporary paralysis and/or vocal slurring.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“That takes until the next day to recover from!” Linda added. “I don’t know what repeated exposure would cause. I don’t want SpiderGirl to experience that! I don’t want to find out her secret identity by finding out that you’ve injured her permanently. I don’t want that to happen, Sandi!”

“I’ll be careful,” Sandi said. She deactivated the purple glow and walked to where the cans were. “That’s not all I can do.” She reached out and drew one of the cans into her hand.

“I know,” Linda said as she did the same. “But using this power to restrain her wouldn’t be any better. I don’t want you confronting Lawndale’s superhero out of jealousy. She’s bringing hope to this town.”

“Not jealousy!”

“Resentment then. Think about what you’re doing, that is what I’m asking of you. Both as your mother and as your mentor.”

“Mentor,” Sandi considered.

 “I taught you how to use your powers so that you would use them responsibly.” She then went back inside, knowing that she would have many more such conversations with Sandi in future.

Sandi looked at where her mother had gone inside. She considered what she had said. But she knew that she would continue what she had started and confront SpiderGirl. ‘But not as myself.’

After an hour and a half of homework, Quinn headed out as SpiderGirl, leaving the house by the hall window, as she had been usually doing. ‘But leaving via the attic would be better,’ she thought as she swung away.

Jane entered the kitchen after her patrol as the Shadow.

“Daria called,” Trent said. “Something about her sister and her hair.”

“Her sister’s hair, or her own hair?” Jane asked, wondering what her friend was going to tell her.

“Her own hair,” Trent clarified.

“I’ll call.”

“What’s this about your hair?” Jane asked.

“I let Quinn trim it. It is a little hard to explain how it felt, but I now trust her more than I ever have.”

“How much did she take off.”

“That’s the thing. I asked her to just deal with the split ends. I have decided to grow it out, including the bangs,” Daria answered.

“I have noticed it getting longer.”

“Changes happen.”

“It goes back to your father, doesn’t it?” Jane asked.

“Yes. The changes due to him not being here anymore.”

Out in the night, SpiderGirl rescued a squirrel from a truck on the Interstate, before meeting Ninja Talon nearby.

“I have visited Sarah Robyn,” the latter said. “Twice. Once, like this. The other as the cheerleader.”

“That’s good,” SpiderGirl said in encouraging tone.

“There were some muggings I prevented earlier.”

“I was bonding with Daria.”

“That’s good. I don’t think I could do so with Brian.”

‘There’s something there,’ SpiderGirl thought.

“Anyway, Sarah Robyn will be released tomorrow, even though she still can’t speak.”

“Then I’ll see her early in the morning.”

Lawndale Sun-Herald

Tuesday January 30, 2001

Historia Proving Popular

SpiderGirl arrived at the Hospital as the sun rose. She wanted to spend time with Sarah Robyn and get to school with time to spare.

Sarah Robyn saw SpiderGirl enter. She wrote Thanks for coming and handed the note to her.

“You’re welcome,” SpiderGirl said. “I couldn’t stay away today without saying goodbye. It’s not likely I’ll be in Oakwood any time soon. I’ll be focusing on Lawndale.”

Of course.

“But it may be that I may be there, just not very often.”

That’s OK

They spent a while in silence before they parted ways.

I’ll keep an eye on the news from Lawndale and keep thinking of you and the other two.

“Thanks, Sarah Robyn. That means a lot,” SpiderGirl responded. “Although most of what we do is small and doesn’t make the news.”

That’s fine.

SpiderGirl left, although not before saying goodbye and getting a signed farewell in return.

As the business day began, so did a tumultuous session of the Lawndale City Council. Especially when Mayor Lawson brought up Norman Osborn’s request to access the municipal CCTV, albeit without naming him.

He suspected that Osborn had continued to work behind the scenes, as several of the councillors he had expected to reject the proposal supported it. ‘Of course he would!’ he groused to himself. “Lets call a vote.”

The motion succeeded by one vote.

‘Now I have to delay Osborn some other way!’ Lawson thought.

Osborn entered Lawson’s office at midday. “I heard the motion passed,” he said.

“Yes, it did. You’ll have access later this week.”

“Very good. My technicians will liaise with yours about the details.”

Quinn met with Angie after school in the library. “When are you next at the Historia?” Angie asked.

“Tomorrow,” Quinn answered.

“Right, I’ll drop by before work.”

“That would be great.”

“Now, where are we up to?” Angie asked.

“History, specifically, the Gilded Age.”

Angie opened her textbook. “Got it.”

After school, Sandi headed to Cranberry Commons. She didn’t want to go to the other Mall, as that was where she usually shopped. She didn’t want any classmates to see her shop for clothes that would make her inconspicuous. She found a small out of the way shop and started looking.

At the same time, Daria entered Lawndale Mall, hoping to be in and out as quickly as possible. After her decision to grow out her hair and the trim Quinn gave her, she decided to get the clips as soon as possible. She soon found what she was looking for in a small shop.

“Are you sure you want something that plain?” the saleswoman asked.

“Look at what I’m wearing already,” Daria responded. “Do I look like someone who wants something fancy?”

“You could change up your style a bit.”

“I may be growing my hair, but my style isn’t changing.”

“OK, I won’t press.”

“Good.”

“That will be four dollars.”

Daria handed over the exact change.

Sandi found several outfits that matched what she was looking for. All purple ensembles that matched the glow of her energy projection powers. ‘Now I need to find a mask,’ she thought as she paid for the clothes.

After tutoring Angie, SpiderGirl headed out from the school roof. After an uneventful patrol around the downtown, she headed home.

She entered the basement through the backyard hatch and changed back to her usual self. She took out the blueprints again. She looked again at something she had noticed. That the basement on the blueprints seemed to take up the same floor space as the stories above, but Quinn was sure that it looked smaller. ‘The laundry area is below the dining room and the kitchen and Daria’s room. This table and the dresser are below the garage and my room.’

She went over to the chute and looked at the blueprints again. ‘It looks like there is more empty space than the chute beneath my closet.’ She looked at the wall ahead of her. It didn’t look as far away as the end of the living room did from the front door. ‘I’ll probably need to measure it.’

She found the measuring tape in the tools she had bought the day before. She measured along the wall from where she was sure the front door was, to the wall, which was of plasterboard, rather than the other three walls which were of the same red brick as the walls above. “Fourteen feet.”

Up on the ground floor, she checked that her mother and Daria weren’t home before measuring from the side of the front door to the corner window. “Twenty one feet. That’s a whole seven feet.” Was there a hidden area of the basement six and half feet wide?

Back down in the basement, she looked at the wall. The plasterboard was held in place by screws. ‘So, I can get in there at some point and look.’ But first she needed to make the other modifications before considering what to use the hidden space for. ‘I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.’

She went back to the desk and continued designing the locking mechanisms for the chute.

Sandi found some purple fabric she could make a mask out of. ‘Perfect,’ she thought.

Daria saw Quinn enter the kitchen from the basement door. “I got the clips today,” she said.

“That’s good. Are you going to wear them soon.”

“Probably tomorrow.”

After dinner, Sandi was ready again. “Robyn Allen,” she considered, looking at a long haired brunette. She didn’t really know her either. She downed the energy drink. “Finndu mann sem heitir: Robyn Allen!”

Robyn Allen wasn’t quite as far as Elly Aitkin, but her house was in the opposite direction, near Newridge, the southwestern-most of Lawndale’s subdivisions. Sandi saw that she was having desert with her large family.

“Two down.”

Again, Quinn felt her Spider Sense tingle at a low volume. This time as she did some homework. “Again?” she commented. ‘Is it going to happen every night?’ She took out the journal she had been using since she had started being SpiderGirl. “Low intensity tingle again. Someone is still searching for my secret.”

Linda watched as Sandi again practiced against tin cans in the back yard. “I hope she took our discussion last night to heart,” she murmured. She looked around, and saw that she was alone. She then generated a forcefield around her. “Sandi isn’t here yet, but she will be soon.”

Later, after her parents had gone to sleep. Sandi slipped out of the house wearing one of the purple ensembles, the mask she had made earlier in the evening and her hair tied back into a high ponytail. She looked down Grandstaff Drive towards the downtown. She was already the fourth of Lawndale’s vigilante heroes, or in her case an antihero. “Watch out SpiderGirl, the Enigma is on your case!” she said as she ran off down the street.

[sublimeobservationarcade]

America Is Exporting Hate To The World

Where did social media originate? Yes, the United States of America. Although, that should read the disunited states of America. Through social media America is exporting hate to the world. Its own special homegrown kind of hate and division. We are having discussions about banning social media for our kids because of the damage it is doing to them. If we were smart we would ban it per se for everybody. Spend a few minutes considering the pros and cons of this Internet borne home of gossip and misinformation.

Social Media Is The American Medium Of Hate

Yes, there have been instances of important information during natural disasters being disseminated via Facebook. Up against this are numerous examples of downright lies being spread by both malign and misinformed actors in a wide variety of circumstances. The platforms have been reluctant to fact check and police content. During the recent global pandemic we witnessed gross violations of policies in this regard for political purposes resulting in banning’s of account holders by Twitter and Facebook. Freedom of speech is given as reason enough for these folk to be able to do such stuff on social media. Elon Musk bought Twitter and turned it into X, apparently for this very reason.

Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com

Hate Speech Free To Spread Lies & Disinformation

Now, we have rampant disinformation and hate speech  enjoying an unchecked express ride on X. Social media is opinion masquerading as news, in many instances. The digital medium itself lends weight to gossip and unsubstantiated stuff. Algorithms favour click bait content designed to outrage viewers over factuality. Fake news is spread by both haters and manipulators. Most viewers have no idea of the source of the tweet, post, or video and whether it is genuine or a bot. The recently exposed Russian funding of alt-right pro Trump videos is testament to this. Americans will do anything for money. The Russian state wants a Putin loving Trump back in the White House, as kleptocrats flock together for exponentially more grift and graft. What Is Social Media American Style? What is social media? Ostensibly, a platform like Facebook was based on the school yearbook prevalent in American schools. It contained photos and information about individuals in that class and year, as a record for posterity. Digitally morph that into Facebook and it became a way to find friends online and map lives for general comment. Generations of us have come along in the 21C looking into screens, as some electronic mirror/ record of our existence. This largely unregulated space provides proof of life without the perquisite standards of factuality demanded by the old paper records kept by the state. Computers are essentially about record keeping and filing. Social media is full of fake identities and unreal digital records of lives.

Photo by Nikita Belokhonov on Pexels.com No Identity Checks Necessary Yuval Harari makes a cogent point when he emphasises that the blatant proliferation of fake human identities online are incredibly damaging to our societies. He suggests that we make it a serious crime to counterfeit human identities, as we do for counterfeiting money. The fraudulent behaviour widely occurring across social media and other digital mediums sees scams costing tens of billions of dollars annually. Our banks wont guarantee the safety of our funds anymore, as they have moved out of the security business and into the transactional convenience game. They take a cut or a fee from every movement of currency, whether it be by you or a scammer. If you or I are fooled into transferring large amounts of our money into a fraudulent account, more fool us and the financial institution will not bear any responsibility. Unverified Free For All For Frauds If you read stuff online and don’t bother checking it for its veracity, well that says something about who you are. If you don’t bother tracing the source of the material and don’t understand that everyone has an agenda, well the truth of the matter may well allude you. Social media is a free for all, where the actual identities of correspondents are hidden. You might be following a bot, a machine. You may well be arguing with a non-human entity. The algorithms are designed to get us all riled up, so that we stay on the platform. Americans engineered social media and have been fine tuning it ever since. There is no definitive agreement on who was first in this space. “When did social media start gaining momentum? The early 2000s witnessed an exponential rise in the usage of these platforms. SixDegrees’ revolutionary model was the catalyst, setting the stage for the advent of giants like Facebook and X.” - (https://sciencepod.net/when-was-social-media-invented/) Billions of people use social media globally and it has generated some positive outcomes but like all things it is on a continuum. Back in its home, America, the negatives are clearly outweighing what positives remain. Kids growing into adults with their noses stuck in their phone screens and developing a crick in their necks from constantly looking down. Lives without meaning unless they are posted online with digital facsimiles posing as happiness. Cyber bullying preying upon teenagers and young adults. Sex and pornography blurring into the same thing in the minds of many of the generations infected by the compulsion to interact with social media. Peer group pressure feeds the social media disease. Our modern cultures  are defined by these devices and their software. Our brains are being manipulated by the constant use and engagement with social media. We don’t have the data yet to see what the longer term ramifications of this will be.

Trump The Social Media President Donald Trump became the ‘social media President’. His posts on Twitter and later Truth Social became a direct conduit between President and the American people. The fact that Trump is a compulsive liar and arch manipulator of misinformation makes him the perfect ambassador for this fraudulent communication network. Giving the allusion of cutting through the bullshit via this medium has served Trump well. His narrative of being an anti-politician and a champion of the people has fitted in well with the laconic confines of X and Truth Social formats. Trump’s messaging via social media is far more effective politically than his rambling incoherent rally speeches. Lying online is easier because body language largely cannot give you away. Although, Trump must be considered one of the greatest liars ever in American history. The Amplification Of Lies & Gossip America is exporting hate to the world through its invention and marketing of social media. Big Tech in the US is largely unregulated and has grown into a trillion dollar behemoth. Google, Apple, Facebook, Amazon and the many other manifestations of it have the ability to control our thinking. We use their devices unceasingly and the software they hold engages with us 24/7. Social media is all about group think in its ability to influence users and sections of our societies to vote certain ways. Why do you think the Russians, Chinese and Iranians have been hell bent on sewing discord and division in the American political sphere. Democracy appears to have a vulnerability here, especially for those viewing it from authoritarian states. Brexit was directly influenced by Russian meddling in the social media arena around that vote. Hillary Clinton was defeated by Trump in the 2016 presidential race and again Russian influence was identified in the social media space by the FBI. The polarization vehemently present in the US is spreading across the globe via social media. You can see it in Britain and Europe and in Australia. Sections of populations being siloed in their views about increasingly emotive topics like the Israel Hamas conflict. Politicians on the right and left drumming up support on the back of their stances on issues like this. The Russian invasion of Ukraine has been coopted by political groups for their own benefit. The centre has, seemingly, been deserted for extremist positions on either side of this. The way social media works, as a networking tool, has to be a big part of why this is occurring globally. It could be the existential danger of our time that we are not seeing, joining climate change as one of the four apocalyptic horsemen.

Media Must Be Regulated Media has long been recognised over the years as requiring regulation. The unfettered reign of social media is an anomaly. The printing press ramped up civil unrest, hate and violence for centuries following its invention in the 15C. It is estimated that a third of Europe’s population died in the resulting wars and conflicts. “German goldsmith Johannes Gutenberg is credited with inventing the printing press around 1436, although he was far from the first to automate the book-printing process. Woodblock printing in China dates back to the 9th century and Korean bookmakers were printing with moveable metal type a century before Gutenberg.” - (https://www.history.com/news/printing-press-renaissance) Thus, we can see that information technology is no benign thing. Governments brought in strict laws around who could own and operate newspapers, radio and TV networks. Various laws in different countries defined what could be printed, broadcast, and disseminated. In America, they got around the freedom of speech laws in the Constitution by making everything top secret at the source. Government agencies declared documents sealed under national security laws heading off any debate about freedom of speech. This is one of the reasons why Americans are so god damned suspicious and paranoid about conspiracies because they have so much information denied to them. Land of the free is a load of poppycock really. Social media gives them free access to a veritable sewer full of fictions, exaggerations, lies, and distortions. Nothing is top secret on X, Facebook, Tik Tok or Truth Social, as there is never anything worth hiding there.

Photo by Pranavsinh suratia on Pexels.com Billionaires & Social Media Elon Musk is a billionaire running a social media platform and this is dangerous thing. Musk has around 200 million followers on X himself. Zuckerberg is another billionaire with both Facebook and Instagram at his disposal for influencing hundreds of millions of people. The old media is in its death throws, with newspapers and broadcast TV shrinking in influence rapidly. The Rupert Murdochs’ are a dying species despite the loudness of Fox News and Sky News Australia. Rabid right wing diatribes fill their air waves with no journalism to be found only opinion. American hate is more than hot air and is something that international governments would do well to recognise before it is too late.  Before their citizens are infected beyond redemption. American political violence is the natural progression of that hate and segregated polarization. Seeing fellow and sister human beings as ‘the other’ rather than having a shared universal identity is a forerunner to violence. The oligarchs have got so big, so wealthy, that governments are pitiful in comparison in many instances. Tax cuts for corporations and the super wealthy have seen their incomes treble of late since the Trump tax cuts of 2017. Competition from sectors has disappeared and these rentier oligarchies extract billions from endless fees, subscriptions and charges. Big Tech has seen countless mergers and acquisitions resulting in giant multinationals minimising their taxation in boltholes like Ireland. Super Pacs define the political space in the US with the top 1% of the wealthy spending billions on electing politicians and parties. The American people have been shunted to the back of the bus and are treated like third class citizens in determining who runs the country. Democracy has been bought off by the super wealthy. 333 million people and just a tiny percentage get to call the shots and determine policy. Of course they are going to look after their own interests to the detriment of ordinary working Americans. It seems like many Americans are like children in that they are happily distracted by the circus and the BS of Trump. Hating immigrants, hating coloured folk, hating LGBTQI people, hating non-Christians, and hating women who don’t kiss ass as a matter of course.

Photo by Markus Winkler on Pexels.com Through social media America is exporting hate to the world. It is an American invention and it is still being refined according to their social engineering skills. We have embraced it via our love of technology. We love our smart phones and they are connected to social media network platforms. Many of us live in big cities and deal with loneliness in these modern urban settings. Some of us keep the home fires burning by our engagement with social media. Trolling or being trolled online. Stoking hate as a consolation for the omission of love in our lives, perhaps. Somehow we have lost the ability to interact in the flesh and have a good natured debate. The anonymity of online forums appeals to many to vent and say stuff we wouldn’t have the guts to say in person. The public good has shrunk and we have seen the rise of an overwhelming concern for self-aggrandisement. People bang on about civil rights but rarely mention civil duties.  The Americanisation of the world continues apace. Perhaps, the iPhone should have come with a warning about this. Robert Sudha Hamilton is the author of America Matters: Pre-apocalyptic Posts & Essays in the Shadow of Trump. ©HouseTherapy

SpaceX Demo-2 Preflight (NHQ202005270020) by NASA HQ PHOTO is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 2.0 Read the full article

[cheesyfan]

omg uyearbook!!!! I love her too,,, look hear me out,,, service bell x yearbook x mirror,,, PLEASE JUST HEAR ME OUT-

I don't care what people saw I love service bell,,, 💗💗😻 mu queen,,,

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

PAPARAZZI- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Dark! Perv! Peter x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: as the outgoing, spontaneous cheerleader of the school, you arent too familiar with quieter people, such as peter parker. he sure is familiar with you though. soon, the photos and obsessions give him the courage to talk to you, which leads into his darker desires coming true.

WARNING. THIS CONTAINS DARKER CONTENT, SUCH AS STALKING AND MANIUPLATION. READ WITH CAUTION. 

Warnings: SMUT, stalking, public masturbation, stealing of panties, masturbation with panties, booze and drugs mentioned, swearing, maniplation/ slight gaslighting, pet names, heavy praise kink, size kink, daddy kink, overstimulation, corruption/ innocent kink, teasing/ playing with reader through panties, panties used as gag, mocking, taking pictures of reader while asleep, mentions of diff sex postitions, spanking, plugs and collars, mirror sex etc

“i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me- papa-paparazzi baby, there's no other superstar, you know that i'll be... your papa-paparazzi” - paparazzi, lady gaga

One of the first words you had ever said to Peter Parker had been a lie. 

A white one, something small and one that you had believed. 

But not him.

 He knew it was a lie that had slipped from your lips, clear as day as he snapped the photo with his Nikon. I’m not very photogenic. 

Those were the words of warning you gave him as he asked for a photo of you for the yearbook, a shy smile blooming across your face as he insisted. 

No one is ever un-photogenic. It's the photographer that can make it that way. he had reassured, flexing his bicep as he ran his fingers nervously through his hair.

 Those weren't the words he wanted to say, but they’d have to do. What he really wanted to say, the truthful answer was probably not something your innocent, soft persona was ready to hear yet. 

You are the most captivating person I’ve ever seen, and I look at your beautiful body any chance I can get without seeming like a full-on weirdo, imagining what you look like under those clothes. So yes, you are photogenic. Very, very photogenic. 

That would have to wait until a much later date, when you knew him better. When you would understand how photogenic you were, because he’d make you understand.

 “Peter?” you asked shyly, drawing his attention back to the present moment, breaking him from his trance about how your legs would look slung across his shoulders as he pounded into you. 

You knew his name. God, wait until you were moaning it. 

“Yea, yea sorry, just got distracted.” he smiled, making you giggle as he brought the camera up to face, eyes staring you down through the viewfinder as he snapped the picture of you smiling by the football field. 

A cheerleader in her natural element. 

“Thanks Y/N.” he nodded, turning to walk off, to stalk you from the bleachers- as he always did. But you stopped him, your gentle voice captivating him as you asked the most mindboggling question he had ever heard. 

“You, you know my name?” you asked shyly, and he fought the urge to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor, to have his eyes boggle out of his head like a cartoon character. 

Of course, he knew your name. Every person in Queens knew your name, the shining star.

 “Course.” he shrugged, watching as you fidgeted with the hem of your short little cheer skirt, the one he imagined flipping up so many times as he’d pound into you from behind in the changeroom, holding your head up by your hair so you could see how beautiful you looked drunk on his cock in the mirror. 

“Oh! Hey, you're in my chemistry arent you? Mr. Johnson's class?” 

He died. He had died, and gone to heaven. 

“Y-yeah. I sit-”

 “At the back of the class. Back right corner.” you smiled, head whipping back as you heard your friends from the squad call your name, waving you over to the center field. You laughed at his reaction, the pure look of amazement in his eyes as he stared at you, his face in shock. 

“I’ll see you around, ‘k Parker? Let me know if you need more pictures.” you waved, your hair flipping behind your shoulder as you trotted off to their beck and calls. 

He somehow urged his legs to move, although he wanted nothing more than to remain frozen to the spot, the sweet smell of your perfume and shampoo lingering in the air from your close proximity making him hazy and irrational. 

Let me know if you need more photos. 

He bit his lip, knawing on it with his teeth as he made his way back over behind the bleachers, a spot he often occupied. It was perfect for a photographer, a spot where he could see everything and anyone, but no one could see him. 

You were a sweetheart to offer that up to him, but there was one thing you didn't fully know. 

He already took advantage of that offer, much before you said anything about it. 

Peter had photos of you everywhere. 

And by everywhere, he meant everywhere. 

Photos of you pinned up on the walls in his room. Photos of you he taped in his physics notebook, his math binders, even a photo of you in his wallet. 

They were all candids of course, as he’d often spend his time taking pictures of you when you were clueless. Those were always the best ones though, where you'd look so innocent and carefree in those little skirts and knee-high socks, a soft smile always on your face. 

You were a sweet, innocent little ray of sunshine. One he wanted to corrupt.

 And he knew, deep down it was wrong, oh so very wrong. But how could he not think of you that way? It was impossible to keep those thoughts at bay, thoughts of all the ways he would ruin you, making you beg on your knees for him.

 For any part of him, for him to do anything to you. You would be so easy that way, so moldable in his hands. 

Obedient. 

The sound of your gentle laughter sent his gaze towards your body once more, a lion stalking a lamb as he took in your legs hungrily, currently spread into the splits as you stretched. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, the way he would ruin you. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping put your quivering cunt, his fingers smearing it across your thighs. He’d cum on your stomach and feed it to you, or he’d finish across your face- and you’d take it like a good girl. 

He groaned softly, palming himself through his jeans, the fabric suddenly tight and uncomfortable as he watched you. 

Pictures weren't enough today. Pictures weren't nearly enough, with the way your skin gleaned in the afternoon sun, your pink little cotton panties peaking at him as you bent down to finish your stretching, still talking to one of your friends about helping out at the animal shelter later this week. 

God, you were so perfect. So sweet, and gentle.. and well, his. 

At least in Peter's mind. 

Before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, need took over as he quickly unzipped his jeans, pulling out his hardened cock, throbbing and gleaming with precum. He moaned as he pumped himself tp the sight of you, imagining all the places he would take you- whether you liked it or not. 

In his bed. Over the counters. On his desk. In the chemistry labs. Hell, even here, under the bleachers where he stood, currently jerking himself off like you were a live playboy magazine. 

Head thrown back in pleasure, he bit his lip down hard enough to taste the coppery, sweet tang of blood. It was only when he heard the whistle and the sound of the coach's voice he realized exactly what he was doing.

 This was wrong. This was very wrong. Fuck Parker, you’re acting like a fucking virgin. Can't even keep it in your pants until you get home? 

Not with you, he couldn't. But he really had no option, knowing so many people would be with you. Didn’t mean he couldn't snap a few more pictures though. 

One or two wouldn't hurt, right? 

After zipping his jeans back up, he quickly grabbed his camera, positioning it so he could see you perfectly. Your hair shimmered in the sun, a little halo placed around your frame as you looked to your friend. 

He didn’t know if he wanted to braid it for you after a long, hot shower, or if he wanted to tug on it so hard you cried. After a few pictures, many including your thighs in that short little skirt he adored, he hurried out from his hiding spot, back onto the gravel path. 

He was in a rush not because he was worried he’d run into you again. 

Oh, that’d be the dream. 

He was rushing because there was an entire corkboard that waited for him in his room, filled to the brim with pictures of you. And it was either he came in his pants to the sound of your voice, or too many, many photos of you. 

Peter would take the safe option. 

For now- at least.

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“Peter?” 

Your mellow voice rang out, clear as windchimes on a breezy summer's day- snapping him up from his thoughts. Of you, again. 

He looked up from his notes, ones that he hadn't really been reading, but ones he had been mindlessly glancing at so Mr. Johnson wouldn't demand to know why he’d be staring off into space.

 He couldn't really say “Sorry Mr. Johnson, I was just daydreaming about using a vibrator on Y/N until she started crying, begging and drooling because I made her into an incoherent mess!” 

That would not slide with him. The bell was about to ring, and he wasn't expecting you to show up as a pre-class gift. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn't happy about it. 

Very, very happy. 

“Y/N hey! What's up?”

 He wanted to smack himself in the face. What's up?! You really just said what's up?! 

“Nothing much... Um- I was just wondering something.” 

Your fingers were wrapped around your arm, rubbing it up and down as you fidgeted in lace with your feet. You were nervous. 

“What were you wondering?” he murmured, and he’d be damned if he said he didnt find your shyness towards him adorable. Everything you did was adorable. 

“You can totally say no if you want, I don't want you to feel like you have to or anything-” 

“Hey. Breathe. Just tell me.” he smiled softly, urging you to take a deep breath, and start from the beginning. The heat rising to your cheeks was making you fidget even more, feeling as if he could sense it from miles away. 

But you had to spit it out. If you didnt, you’d never hear the end of it from your nagging thoughts that liked to plague you wherever you went. 

“I overheard Mr. Johnson telling Mrs. Marly that we’re doing a lab later this week. He’ll probably go over it today, I just wanted to ask.. would you be my partner? You’re really, really smart. And I wanted to get to know you better.” you gushed, words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

Peter wanted to pinch himself. He wanted to slap himself silly, because there is no way in hell you just asked him that. 

Was he dreaming? He was definitely dreaming. 

“Peter?” His shock kept him from saying exactly what he wanted to say right away. “Like I said, you don't have too, I can ask someon-”

 “Yes. Of course I’ll be your partner.” he nodded, cheeks turning pink as the skirt you had on today, the soft, pastel pink just aching for his fingers to run across the seams, to flip it up to expose yourself to him. 

You rubbed your lips together, lipgloss shimmering as the morning sun shown through the windows, the bell ringing profusely like an alarm for the sun to break from the clouds.

 It was strawberry lipgloss. He watched you put it on at your locker this morning, and he wanted nothing more than to taste it. 

“Oh, thank you so much! If you brainstorm anything in class today, slip it in my gym locker. I have cheer practice after school, but all the girls are normally out of the change room by 2:45. If no one sees you go in there, you should be fine.” you giggled, watching as students began to sit down in their seats, Mr. Johnson finalizing his notes for the class as he started to write out the date at the top of the whiteboard. 

“May I?” you asked, pointing at his pen that was scattered with his papers across his desk. Peter nodded, and you picked up the pen, leaning over towards him as you scribbled your locker number and combination across the blank sheet of paper he had pulled out before you had showed up. 

He tried so hard not to look, he really did. But when you were leaned over, your shirt exposing the tops of your breasts so close to him- it was impossible not to peek. They looked so pretty and perky, your little gold necklace swinging in front of him, tempting him.

 He wanted nothing more than to mark them up, to suck on your nipples until you were so flustered you couldn't do anything but moan his name, and tug at his hair. 

The honeyed smell of your perfume was gripping him by the throat, clouding his senses and making his head go fuzzy. 

He wanted you so bad it hurt. 

“ See ya round.” you whispered, setting his pen down as you gave him a little wink, scurrying back to your seat on the other side of the room. 

Oh, he’d be seeing you alright. He’d be seeing you a whole lot. 

Mr. Johnson's voice was tuned out as his brain turned the sound off like a radio dial, as he was only focused on you. Peter looked down at the little heart you had left next to your elegant scribbles of writing, the numbers slightly tilted on an angle, loopy numbers filling the left hand corner of his page. 

He had never seen anyone write like that, and he adored it. What he adored even more though, was that you had left an extra set of numbers for him.

 Your phone number. 

He couldn't help but glance over at you, head down in your notes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, listening to the teacher as if he were a preacher in a cult. 

You were so pretty when you were focused.

 Peter knew he probably shouldn't be on his phone, especially because he knew Mr. Johnson was about to start talking about the labs you had overheard earlier that day, but he didn't care. He already spent all his classes daydreaming about you, especially this class- so what would it hurt? 

His thumbs flew across the keyboard under the desk, hitting send before he could re-think his decision. 

Unknown Number: So… you come here often? 

You looked down at your phone, fidgeting with the pink, sparkly case with a smile. It was Peter. Your heart pounded in your chest at the text, the sheer dorkiness of it making you want to giggle. 

He was charming, a little shy and quiet. But that's what made you gravitate towards him, his mellow aura inviting, yet mysterious. 

You liked it. You liked it a whole lot. 

You: Sadly… yes. You? 

Peter: I tend to show up when the girl I want to show up does. I have nothing to look at when she's not. 

You smiled, cheeks heating (as they typically did) when he was involved. You had a school girl crush on him, and he’d be blind as a bat if he didnt see it from miles away. Kilometers. Especially with those glasses he always wore, which he always adjusted on his pretty nose. 

You: What's this mystery girls name?

Peter:.... 

Peter: Bunny. And Bunny is now going to be good and pay attention to the lecture, cause she has a thesis she needs to think about. 

Bunny. 

You tugged on your lower, glossy lip with your teeth, the slight pain a delicious distraction from what was happening between your leg as you clenched them together tightly. 

The sound of your foot lightly tapping the tile was nearly as fast as the professor's words as he spewed them out at lightning speed, causing your notes to be frantic and rushed.

 The last thing you wanted was to not have any material to give back to Peter during this project. You had your fair share of partners who did nothing in group assignments, and it made your blood boil. 

The fact Peter was nice enough to even let you work with him was beyond kind already- the last thing you wanted to be was unprepared. Before you knew it, the bell had rang, its shrill noise breaking the silence and tension so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife. 

It made you jump, heartbeat racing as you quickly packed up your things, his rambling no longer making sense in your mind as he yelled out the homework for this weekend to the kids already scurrying down the hall.

 “Have fun at cheer tonight bunny.” the soft voice called, words tickling the shell of your ear as Peter's hand touched your lower back, his skin brushing yours as he scooted by you to head towards the door. 

“Thanks.” was all you could squeak out, watching as he sent a little smile and wave your way, long stride carrying him down the halls as he propped his earbuds in to tune out the rest of the world. 

Something you think you wanted to do with him sometime.

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Peter felt like a pervert. An absolute, full-on pervert. 

There is a system set in place for perverted things, one that he had created in his head. Level one was taking pictures of you, level two being jerking off to those said pictures. Level three was jerking off to you, in person- without your awareness. 

But this, this broke the scale. At least in his books. 

This was something typical movie perverts would do, something the audience would watch, perhaps maybe cover their children's eyes while they gawked. He stood at the entrance to the girls change room, the only sound preoccupying the space the humming of the janitor out of view down the hall, and the buzz of the fluorescences. 

No one lingered among the lockers, he had made sure of that. It was 2:50pm, and he was still chicken shit. 

Peter Parker was scared. 

Not scared of you walking in, or anyone else really for that matter. You had granted him permission after all, and it's not like anyone was stripping down currently. 

He was scared of himself. Of his own urges. 

Finally, he’d be in your personal space. Your personal, personal space. He knew it was wrong to rummage through your stuff, but the thought of your undergarments being so close to him, and quite literally his for the taking made him horny. 

Hornier than he had been all damn day, which was saying a lot. 

Horny enough to have yet again, irrational decisions cloud his judgement, making him storm into the locker room like a man on a mission. Skimming over the numbers, he finally found yours, lighting up like he had won the jackpot. 

Memorizing the combination you had written down for him, he unlocked your locker, the metal creaking slightly as he pried it open.

 It was so… you. So, so very you. 

Innocent and soft, little pictures of you and your friends put up with pink washi tape, your cheer schedule scribbled with dates and hearts. He smiled at the Hello Kitty stickers you placed near the back as he slid the papers in your bag, making a mental note to bring that up in a conversation later. 

It was when the papers were fully tucked away did he realize what he was touching. 

Lace. 

His mouth went dry, palms beginning to sweat as his fingers wrapped around the flimsy fabric, tugging it out into view. 

Bingo. 

The scrap of the pink lace thong was enough to have him keening, and he brought his nose to it, inhaling deeply. It smelt sweet, the wet patch you had left still staining the undergarment. 

The fact you had worn this all day, when you had talked to him in class, when you had rubbed your thighs together eagerly… 

“Fuck.” he murmured gently, bringing the pink fabric down to the very prominent bulge in his jeans, rubbing it against his oner with a sigh. His party was soon crashed though, the sound of voices growing louder as they entered the changeroom. 

Shutting the locker as quickly (and as quietly) as he possibly could, he darted out of sight behind another row, praying to every god in the universe no one would come this way. 

“Yea, Y/N told me she was going to Daryl's party tomorrow night. She’s supposed to help me pick out what to wear.” a light, cheery voice called from in front of him, the sound of the locker opening make his heart drop as another set of footsteps followed behind the mystery person. 

Daryl? As in Daryl Whites? This was a very, very bad idea for you. 

Peter had noticed the way Daryl had been eyeing you up lately, like you were a piece of fresh meat at the butcher's. He’d be dammed if he let you anywhere near that scumbag. 

“What do think she’ll wear though?” another voice replied, the sound of a water bottle being squeezed filling the air as the locker clanged shut again. 

“Hopefully something slutty. I can't be the only whore at this party! I swear sometimes-” The voices muddled out as they exited the changeroom, the door swinging shut behind them as the coach's whistle blew. 

Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the soft whoosh of air a sigh of relief. Slipping the panties in his back pocket, he made his way out of the changeroom, to go mentally prepare himself. 

It now appeared he had a party to go to tomorrow night.

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

“Oh goddd-” he gritted out between clenched teeth, the lacey thong rubbing across his hardened cock making it harder and harder to keep a grip of sanity in the present moment. 

Jerking himself off with your underwear was his new favorite thing, the dozens of photos of you looking over at him a sweet touch. He couldn't stop thinking of you, when he was making dinner, when he was in the shower, when he was doing laundry. 

It was always, always you.

 It was only in these sweet moments, in the haven of his bedroom could act on these sinful thoughts, when everyone was asleep. 

Because he was loud. But how was he supposed to stay quiet, when all he could think about was fucking you senseless? 

You’d be so good for him. So eager to please. He had never heard you say no to anything or anyone a day in your life. Maybe it was wrong of him, but he wanted to use that to his advantage. 

You were such a quiet, innocent thing and Peter wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to ruin you. Until all you could think about was his cock, his touch, his taste. The taste of his lips, the taste of his cum down your throat mixed with your tears and salvia as he used you like the pretty little fleshlight you were. 

He’d have to train you first of course, using his fingers so slowly coax you open- get you used to him. Peter wasn't that cruel. But he couldn't wait to be cruel when you’d tease him, and he’d have to teach you a lesson. When he’d happily listen to the sound of your bell jingle from the collar he’d put on you as he’d drap you acros his knee, your body jolting with each spank.  

Your cries would sound so pretty as he’d play with the tail in your ass between the spakings. 

The thought of you sprawled out across his lap and crying sent him over the edge, head lolling back as he finished with a moan. His cum coated your panties, already stained from the previous night. 

He knew the logical thing was to wash it and slip it back into your locker when you weren't present, but at the same time- he didn't want to. 

Yes, he’d give them back, but he wanted you to wear them with the gentle reminder of him. Slipping those panties up over those beautiful legs of yours, just to have his dried cum used as a pillow for your cunt drove him insane. 

So did the thought of seeing you tomorrow night, in a little party outfit. He felt like those girls in the changeroom wondering what you'd be wearing to the get-together, except he was thinking about it for a totally different reason. 

How easy it’d be to get you out of it. 

With a sigh, he stared out the window from his room to the city sprawled outside, at the twinkling lights and people milling on the avenue. This city never slept, and neither did he. 

Daryl's house was only a few blocks down from his apartment, his family lucky enough to snag a townhouse in the bustling streets of Queens. 

Peter hated parties, he was much more content to stay in his room and work on new inventions, or to smoke a blunt and read a book on the fire escape that so happened to conveniently be outside his window. 

But if you were going, he needed to be there. To make sure you would be okay, or at least that's what he kept telling himself. 

Not because he was borderline obsessed with you and needed to be in your presence nearly all the time because you were a drug he was addicted to, a feeling he could never shake from his bones. When you were too drunk to function, or high out of your mind he’d take you home. 

Home- to his apartment, because you’d be in no condition to go back to your place, your father would throw a fit once he found out what his perfect little angel had really done. 

He’d take care of you, keeping you warm and safe as you’d fight a stupid hangover.

 Everything would go according to plan. He was sure of it.

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

Everything did not go according to plan.

 You would go to the party with Macey and Jessica, have an amazing time, drink to the point you were a little drunk, and go home. 

That was the plan. 

You would play games like beer pong with Daryl, despite not really liking him, but you'd have to be a good guest. But instead, you were very, very sober. In someones bedroom, on the verge of crying. 

You didn’t really want to come here. 

You knew you would regret it the second you stepped foot in the door, but you came anyways for your friends sake. 

It will be so much fun! they had insisted as they fixed up your mascara in the vanity mirror an hour prior. Yeah. So much fun my ASS. 

You didn't know whose room you were in, but it surely couldn't be Daryls. It was much to clean for that, too prim and proper. A guest bedroom then. A perfect bedroom for you- his guest, to sit in and hold back tears, being too overstimulated and anxious to actually enjoy yourself.  

Picking at your dress, the skin-tight baby blue fabric making you feel claustrophobic, you listened to the muffled sound of some shitty pop song, the bass loud enough to rattle the floorboards under your feet. 

You thought of Peter as you peered over into the full body mirror, taking in your body as you watched the tears fall. You wondered what he was doing, if he was having a better time than you were. 

God you hoped so. 

Peter would be able to brighten your mood, as he often did without even realizing it. You wished he were here. But this place, this “party” wasn't a scene for the man you had taken interest in over these past few weeks. He seemed like the type to hate this environment, as much as you secretly did. 

So why the hell was he standing in the doorway, his messy hair poking out at you as he creaked it open slowly?

 “Peter?” was all you could let out, in a state of shock that your prayers had been answered. Wiping the stray tears away with a sniffle, you stood as he made his way in the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

 “What are you doing here?” 

“Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring your curiosity as he walked over to you slowly, worry etched on his face as clear as day. You swallowed, fighting the urge not to break out in a sobbing fit. 

No, I’m not okay. I want to go home. So badly. 

“I’m fine. Just.. needed a break from the crowds I guess.” you murmured, watching as he sat down next to you on the bed, patting the spot where you previously sat, bedsheets ruffled. “This not really your scene?” he asked, in which you only responded with a nod, your teeth seeming stuck to your lower lip as you bit down. 

“Yea me either. I don't really know how it's anyone scene to be honest. It's just a lot of loud guys sloshing beer over everyone and terrible music that makes my ears bleed.” 

You laughed at this, warmth blooming in yur chest as he smiled. “Like seriously. I’m not a medical professional, but something is definitely wrong with my ears after hearing that shitty ass song that's been looped like- three times already. You can probably see blood.” he joked, hand snaking over to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, your gaze meeting his pitiful one as he smiled gently. 

He looked so pretty tonight, in that blue shirt you always adored. It brought out the colour of his eyes, which looked so pretty with the glasses he wore. 

He always looked so pretty. Pretty eyes, pretty hair, pretty muscles that seemed to strain behind the fabric. Pretty fingers and arm veins that you could see so clearly as he slid your hair out of your face, so he could see you better. 

“No blood... yet. I can't promise that later on though.” you teased, fighting the urge not to fall into this man's lap and curl up like a kitten, bawling your eyes out because of how overstimulated you were from the party down below. 

Peter must have sensed this, this tidal wave of anxiety that was desperately trying to be freed from the dam you had built up. Giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, he sighed. 

As if he were tired of this too. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he murmured tenderly, making your heart race. You had heard those words from many guys before, drunk and trying to get in your pants. You had always politely declined, having no interest in “getting out of there”. 

But with Peter, it was gentle. 

He was worried for you, and wanted to make sure you were safe. Comfortable. He wanted to get you out of this place he knew you hated, to sweep in and be your prince charming. 

And you gladly let him. 

“Please. I’ll text my friends I’ve headed out when we can somehow find a way out of that maze of people.” 

“Let's get out of this jungle, Indiana Jones.”

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

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once you and Peter managed to find yourselves on the empty sidewalks, the music now just a dull hum under the fluorescent street lights. 

It was like swimming against the tide filtering through the lingering bodies of the crowd, everyone too drunk to understand you were trying to leave the party, not stay in it. 

The smell of beer and cheap booze was now gone, the air clear enough you didn't see smoke floating in it as you walked with Peter. 

You didn’t really know where you were going. You just wanted out. 

You couldn't go home, as you told your parents you were staying over at Mindy's house for the night. They were too lost in arguing or drinking to really bother calling her parents to make sure you stayed there. 

So you mindlessly walked the streets of Queens with Peter, listening to nothing but the pounds of sirens wail and traffic speed by, and your heels clicking on the pavement below. They didn’t seem to do much next to Peter, as he continued to tower over you. 

You felt like a kid next to him with how.. well- large he was. He wasn't “jacked” by any means, but he had muscles. A solid weight to him, and height too.

 It was this observation that got you asking a question you had always secretly wanted to ask, the emptiness of the streets giving you the confidence to speak it. 

“Why don't you play basketball Peter? You have a really nice build for it. Like.. really nice. You’d be amazing on the team.” He looked over at you, eyebrow raised in amusement. “Are you flirting with me bunny?” 

You looked away, wanting nothing more than to hide in an alleyway, and spend the rest of your days there. You got so flustered around Peter.

 “N-no. I mean yes! I don't know.” you stuttered, making matters worse for yourself. He seemed to think it was cute though, laughing as he nudged your arm with his own. 

“You have a really nice build too bunny. Especially tonight. I was meaning to tell you earlier, but ya know- timing. You look really pretty.”

 Well if that didn’t make your heart flutter like a hummingbird.  

“And to answer your question, I don't play basketball because it's not interesting to me. I have other things to occupy my time with.” 

“Like photography?” you asked eagerly, genuinely curious. He smiled. “Like photography. And science, I like building things in my spare time.” 

And I like thinking of you. All the time. And taking pictures of you, and admiring those photos as hobby, because I am so in love with you, and you don't even realize it. But no, just photography and science. Of course. 

“That's so cool! I’ve always wanted to make a robot or something interesting.” you gushed, more and more drawn to this man by the minute. 

You felt his hand slip down to rest on your lower back, touch comforting as the chill night's breeze slithered through the air, coiling around the hairs on your arms like snakes. 

He was warm, his body smelling like cinnamon and fresh coffee grounds. You liked it. You liked it so much you barely realized as he guided you up the steps, leading to double doors to an apartment complex, one you knew he had been in so many times before. 

He punched in a keycode like it was second nature, never breaking eye contact as he watched your lips move, not really hearing the words that came out of them. 

You couldn't care less where he was taking you, too entranced with Peter to pay any mind. He could be leading you down to the seventh pit of hell for all you knew, and you wouldn't give a shit. 

As long as he was there, doing that little nose scrunch he did when he was concentrated, or running his fingers through his hair, just to have it fall in his face a meer seconds later, you'd stay. 

You'd do anything he asked of you. 

And he knew this, and he’d be damned if he didn’t pull the strings a little bit. You were so easy, a glass puppet he could use, and play with. 

His puppet. His toy.

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

“My aunts gone for the weekend, so I figured you’d be okay with staying here for a bit.” he said, shutting the door behind him, watching as you surveyed the quant space. 

The sound of the deadbolt clicking into place made you flinch, breaking the pattern of your steady breathing. You looked over at him, a sly grin on his face as he let the chain slide into place, flicking on more light to illuminate the space. 

It was adorable here. 

Little knick-knacks scattered across the bookshelves filled to the brim with old hardcovers, houseplants and vines overspilling the space. It looked like Peter and his family actually lived here.

 They had made it a home, and had made it their own, unlike the other people you knew- who looked like they lived in an IKEA showroom. 

You smiled as you slid off your shoes, little frilly socks a soft cushion against the old hardwood as you padded over to a framed photo of a woman no later than her late thirties with a younger, smiling Peter. 

“That's my aunt.” he nodded at the frame, making his way over to the kitchen, tossing the keys up on the island, watching you intently.

 “She's beautiful.” you exclaimed setting the frame back down as you followed Peter over to the couch. His arm slung around the back cushions, resting there almost as if it were an invitation. He drummed his fingers to the silent song that played through the speakers of his mind, brushing against your shoulder softly as you sat down beside him. 

You made no move to shy away from him, despite your inner monologue screaming at you to run under his bed and hide like a frightened little child because you felt your brain turning to mush the closer you sat to him, the more you inhaled his comforting scent that had you seeing double. 

“What.. um what should we do?” you squeaked out, his gaze cool and collected, despite the reply that ran through his head like a script. 

We should fuck. And I mean fuck. Doggy, but in a mirror so I can see your pretty face when you cum, and you can see how well we go together, how well you take me despite being a tight lil thing. Maybe I can stuff your- now my panties in your mouth for good measure.

“Whatever you want to do, bunny.” he raised his eyebrows, making you strum your fingers against your lower lip in thought. 

“Hmm. That's a lot of responsibility, I don't think I can handle that.” you giggled, hand coming down to adjust your dress as your legs tucked neatly underneath you. To prevent him from seeing what he really wanted to see, but little did you know he’d already seen it. 

Many times. 

“Too much responsibility for your lil brain hm? Need me to make decisions?” he teased, making you gulp, his words affected you more then they should have. 

He was teasing, a little joke about how indecisive you were. You were extremely, and everyone knew it.

 So why did you feel a wetness pool into your panties at the words that slipped out as smooth and sweet as honey, your thighs clenching as he smirked at you?

 A nod was all you could muster, fueling the fire behind his eyes even more, adding wood to the embers. “Not really good at making decisions.” you confessed, shuffling in your seat. 

It was hot in here. Like really, really hot. Unnessicalarly hot. 

Sweat clung to you like dew drops as your breath quickened, his presence so near it made you feel sick. In the best way possible. Peter made you feel like a frightened little lamb, grazing in a little meadow filled with little wildflowers and butterflies- leading you into a slaughterhouse. 

That slaughterhouse was filled with your desires, your wants and needs that you had suppressed and pushed down for so long because you were scared.

 Despite what some people thought you were inexperienced. 

You barely ever touched yourself, and had never let anyone else touch you like that. So yes, you were frightened. You were vulnerable, because Peter had opened up these urges again. Had sprung the cap free from the bottle, your innocence leaking free.

 “Wha- what are you doing?” you whispered, voice as quiet as a mouse's footsteps as you felt his hand creep down to rush against your bare thigh, goosebumps rising in his wake.

 “Making the decision for you.” he smiled softly, though his eyes were nothing but soft. They were hungry. 

“What decision?” you gulped, tempted to close your thighs around his fingers that gripped your flesh, soft and delicate. 

It felt good. It felt so, so good and he had barely even touched you. But this was your first time actually hanging out, and this was wrong. 

This was my first time hanging out with her and I was taking advantage of her. Because she was so easy to manipulate. Because she was just so, so sweet and good.

His hand pried your legs apart ever so slightly, a little whimper escaping your lips that you prayed would get past him. 

It didn’t though, of course. Nothing ever did. 

A soft, gentle noise spurred him on, his knuckles running up and down the eighth of your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. 

“The one you were too scared to make. The one you want, deep down, that your baby brain can't comprehend.” 

Your eyes widened, hand grabbing his wrist as he adjusted his posture to suddenly tower over you, pushing you back against the cushions. Your head hit the armrest with a little oof, a moan getting caught in your throat at the contact. 

“Peter-”

 “Don't ‘Peter’ me.” he cooed, as if he were talking to a baby kitten, hand stroking your cheek.

 “I can smell you, bunny. So sweet, bet you taste so delicious. You can't fight it, your body wants it. I know what your body needs. I know what you need.” he urged, knowing his words had you wrapped in a chokehold. 

You were about to be KOed by him, body falling to the mat without you even realizing it. 

“You do?” you asked, naive. 

Curious. 

Because of course Peter knew more than you, of course he understood what was going on with you. He understood these funny feelings that seemed to bubble in your stomach, consuming you whole. 

“Of course I do, bunny. You have to trust me, trust is key in a relationship. In any relationship. I would never hurt you, don't you know that?” 

Except he wasn't hurting you. He was hurting your innocence. Not that you were fully aware of that, of course. 

“But, we’ve never hung out before this and I just.. I don't want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.” you murmured softy, breath quickening as his thumb neared your lips, tugging on the lower one with his thumb.

 He wanted to laugh. Oh gosh, you were really like a little fawn. 

“You’d never take advantage of me bunny, not ever. I would just be such a bad person if I didn’t help with those funny feelings I know you have right now.” he tilted his head, mock sympathy etched on his face like a carved marble statue. 

“I don't know what they really are, I’ve never really-”

 “You don't have to know. You shouldn't know, anything right now. Let me know, for you.” he insisted, dragging his thumb to smear your lipgloss, the sparkles stained on him like a brand. 

His eyes never lingered from yours as he smeared the gloss across his lower lip, his tongue darting out to taste. “Mmm strawberry.” he grinned wickedly, making you giggle softly. 

But he knew that already.

 “It’s my favorite.” you whispered as his hand hiked up your dress, chest rising and falling quickly as he unwrapped you like a present on Christmas morning. Your head lolled to the side, leather caressing your cheek as Peter traced a slightly calloused finger down your abdomen, teasing you. 

“Aren't you precious?” he murmured to himself, as if you were a test subject, and he was recording notes on how each touch, each taste affected you. He wanted to capture a picture of you in this moment, frame it and hang it perfectly center in his room. 

This one, this one would take the prize. 

The way you looked right now, so eager, yet confused spurred him on more than he thought was possible- doe eyes wide and mouth slightly parted as little gasps escaped you.

 “Feels funny-” you moaned, the feeling of electrical shocks coursing through your limbs the closer he inches to your clothed cunt. 

“Shh, shh I know. I know, but you gotta trust me bunny. Trust me. Trust daddy- yea?” he shushed, hand cupping your mound, making your hips buck up with a start. 

“Oh godd-” you cried, Peter's fingers gently tapping the wet spot that had overtaken your panties, your slick smearing on his skin as he grinned. 

“Such a messy girl aren’t you? Virgins always are. So easy to get wet.”  

You didn't know how he knew you were a virgin, and quite frankly- you didn't care. Mr. Bear would disagree with Peter, your slick across his fur the odd time a key indicator of that. 

But going against your stuffed teddy didnt nearly feel as good as this. 

Nothing did. 

His fingers began to rub little circles across your clit, the feeling of pleasure so startling and overwhelming that your hand snaked down to grab his wrist with such urgency you feared you had hurt him. Eyes wide, you whimpered. 

“I can't- we can't-” 

“Yes, we can. I know it feels funny but you gotta stay still and take it. Be a good girl.” he growled, voice husky and consumed with lust as he continued to play you like an instrument, fingers reading each cord your body demanded from the staff.

 “See, there we go bunny! Just sit there and take it like my pretty lil dolly.” he praised you softly as your hips attempted to still, your legs starting to shake from the overstimulation. 

It was too much. Too, too much.

 Before you even realized what you were doing, you felt your thumb slip into your mouth- a coping mechanism you had used when your brain was turning fuzzy and cloudy, like a mirror fogging up during a shower. 

Vulnerability. He was teasing you into submission, into regression. 

“Awh poor baby. Feels so good, doesn't it bunny? You look so pathetic for me.” he cooed, a mock pout etched on his face as he pinched your inner thigh, making you squeal as you felt the elastic in your stomach snap, gushing all over his hand. 

It was pure bliss, the way you sounded, your moans and little breathless gasps of pleasure driving him up the wall. The way you were absentmindedly grinding into his hand, the cushions of his palm bumping into your clit as he brought you down from your high had the seams of your innocent breaking, your body taking the pleasure it needed. 

The pleasure it deserved. 

“There we go, good girl. Such a good, good girl.”

 You had made a mess- everywhere.

 God, you were embarrassed.

“M’so sorry.” you gasped, in shock you had came that hard from his touch alone. “Don't apologize bunny, your body needed that. You've been denying her of it for so, so long and you need to learn your lesson.” he tsked, fingers tickling you as they wrapped around the flimsy waistband, tugging the lace down past your thighs. 

It was as if you wanted to get fucked. As if you wanted to be used. And he’d be damned if he didn’t indulge you. 

“What lesson?” you questioned, a flutter of anxiousness laced in your voice as the cool air hit your exposed cunt, your clit throbbing from the stimulation it had just received. 

Your poor cunt was all swollen and puffy. Oh well. 

“You need to give your pretty little body what it wants, what it needs. Stop denying me. But don't worry-” he smiled cruelly, the sound of his belt jangling made you shiver with anticipation, a ball of arousal mixed with flurries of anxious butterflies churning in your stomach.

 “Daddy's here now, to help you. Say ah” You obeyed, feeling as if you had no choice but to part your lips wide. The image above you was pure sin, Peter's eyes as black as the night sky as he stuffed the panties in your mouth, making you choke on a gasp. 

You sputtered as the sweet, salty taste hit your tongue, a muffled cry threatening to burst from your lips as is thoughts raced. This was all he had ever wanted, and now that he was finally getting it? 

He felt on fire. 

He felt as he would simply perish from the insides, flame charring the blood that roared in his ears as he overshadowed you. The desire that coursed through him was inhumane- animalistic as he stroked away a stray tear with his thumb, the hint of fear blending with the desire in your eyes giving all the information he needed to know. 

You were scared. You didn’t know what you wanted. He had to teach you. To train you. 

“We’d be so perfect together- ya know.” he hushed, cutting off your plea of a jumble between ‘please and his name. The dress bunched up slipped off you with ease as he guided it over your head, pinning your arms up helplessly. 

“You’d be my little doll. Mine to- Hey, hey eyes up here.” he warned, making your eyes flicker back up to meet his as he spread your legs even further. 

You whined. He just smiled. 

“Mine to dress up and play with, cause you're such a good girl bunny.” he hummed, head thrown back in pleasure as he entered you, your nails scratching his skin as you wailed making him even harder. 

You were just what he dreamed of. So tight, and wet and warm- 

Your eyes rolled back at his words, his mindless, endless rambling distracting you from the burn in your belly as he sank into you deeper. He wasn't even all the way in yet. 

Oh, you were fucked. 

“G-god dammit bunny your little cunts grippin me. Can’t- can't think when you're this pretty for me.” he moaned, his cock brushing against your walls as he slowly stretched you, despite his body telling him to ram into you so hard you passed out. 

He wasn't that cruel. Yet. 

It was hard to breathe with the gag stuffed in your mouth, your vocal cords scratching as you moaned into the soaking fabric that was now also covered in your spit. 

You were lightheaded from the stimulation, pleasure blurring from pain as you clung onto the sound of his sweet voice.

 “Shh, shh sweet girl I know, I know it's so much isn't it? But you're handling it so well. Look at me all up in your guts hmm?” You looked down, the outline of his cock in your abdomen making you hiccup as he pressed on it gently. 

All you could do was sit and squirm as he used you, slowly rocking into you with each whisper of praise that left his lips, making you feel dirty. 

This was filthy. This was dirty, and wrong. But you loved it. You loved the way he was making you feel, the way he knew what was best for you. If Peter said your body needed this, then it did. 

No room for further discussion.

 “Mghm” was all you could murmur, body shaking as you came around him, vision white with bliss. You were floating among the cosmos, feeling as if you had taken a hit from Daryl's weed at the party earlier. 

It was euphoric, the way this man had made you feel without even trying. Without making you do anything. 

No, you let him take the reins. You had seen things in the movies before, where the girls tended to give and give to make the man happy. This wasn't with Peter. 

He was the giver. 

He gave you pleasure, but the pleasure he gave you was so good he had to take some from himself as well. He couldn't explain to you how good he felt in words, so he showed you. 

Pounded into you, slow and deep. Made you feel each thrust, each kiss, each lick of his tongue against your cheeks as he cleaned the salty tears. 

“God baby bunny you made such a mess over me hm? Creamed my cock dry. Guess it's only fair I finish inside you, stuff you nice n deep for your first time…” 

A rub of your clit and the sound of his whine was the last thing you heard before the lights went out.

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Peter was still in a state of shock.

 He felt as if he was walking on air, a ghost as he floated around the apartment. 

This was real. This was very, very real. 

Any one of his hundreds of fantasies, any images that scattered across in his mind like camera flashes couldn't compare to how exquisite you were. 

How good you felt. 

He knew the second you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes, with such innocence he was done for. He couldn't contain himself anymore. 

Peter had given you every last drop of his cum, stuffing it in your sensitive cunt with his fingers. He couldn't let a single drop go to waste. He had been dreaming about it for too long. 

The rise and fall of your chest brought him back down to some form of reality, realizing what exactly had happened. He had ruined you. Taken your innocence. 

It was his now. His possession. Just like how you soon be. 

Hands running through his hair, he smiled at your passed out figure, taking the panties out of your mouth. 

He’d be keeping these, as well as your other ones. A collection, he decided. 

A new hobby. 

Peter made his way over to the bathroom, warming up a soft washcloth with warm water. He wasn't sure what kind of lotion you liked, although he often smelt vanilla on you. It was one of his favorite scents. 

He’d be sure to pick some up tomorrow, but for now- his lotion would have to do. A gentle whistle sounded from his lips as he nudged his bedroom door open, a picture of your smiling figure greeting him as he switched on the bedside light. 

The fact he didn’t even need any pictures tonight made him smile. He had you. Right where he wanted you. 

There was a pep in his step as he snagged you a sweater, a soft blanket (that smelled of him, he obviously made sure of this, he wasn't stupid) and a glass of water from the kitchen before making his way back to you. 

You were still passed out among the cushions, goosebumps rising on your skin as he neared. “Sleepy lil kitty.” he sang softly, flicking your nose gently. He was met with a soft snore, making him shake his head in amusement. 

He really did fuck you dumb, and then into sleep didn’t he? 

You were so beautiful. That's all he could think of, peering down at you. He had always thought you were beautiful, through the lens of his camera. 

But up close and personal, where he could see each little dimple, each mark and ridge, he thought you were breathtaking. 

I’m not very photogenic. Those words were utter bullshit. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he had made his way back down the hall-  stumbling back into his room. Grabbing his polaroid camera after half jumping into some boxers and pj pants- he gravitated down the darkened hall back to you. 

His angel. His bunny.

 The flash reflected across your body as he snapped the photo, the whirling of the camera not making you move an inch as you remained in slumber. 

Peter would make you feel photogenic. He would make you feel beautiful, make you feel like the most stunning model in the entire universe every day- if you let him. 

But let's be honest here, you really wouldn't have much of a choice, now would you?

[spoodrm4n]

hey! i was wondering if you could write about steve and the reader being best friends for a while now and you both go to a house party and steve gets pretty drunk and he’s just overall super affectionate with you? which he’s never really done before other than hugs but he’s kissing your lips like he can’t get enough and you let him because you’ve had a crush on him forever? just overall drunk affection lol so fluffy

touchy/flirty Steve has me weak

Submit requests here

Tipsy Confessions

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1.7K

You had never been one for house parties and sitting on the edge of the couch in some random classmate's house surrounded by drunk teenagers reminded you why you weren’t particularly fond of them. But Steve had given you those damn puppy dog eyes and you were agreeing to go with him. 

You and Steve had grown up together. His parents were barely home, so they would always send him over to the neighbors across the street who watched him without complaint; that was your house. The two of you were attached at the hip– you couldn’t have one without the other. When you both got into high school, he had chosen the path of the popular kid, and you had trailed behind him. Everyone at Hawkin’s High knew who you were; you were president of student council, top of your class, you did band, you played volleyball, and did photography for the school’s newspaper and yearbook. You were known and well respected by all of your classmates. Still, you had only gone to three parties and all because Steve had ended up dragging you to them when his other friends were busy. He knew you were a last resort because he knew you didn’t like parties. 

You had lost sight of Steve about an hour ago, watching a girl drag him down the hall, probably to a bedroom to score with ‘King Steve’ himself. You had been on the edge of the couch fuming ever since. You had liked Steve since freshman year and it was now your senior year. You had kept your feelings bottled up and locked away because you knew there was no way he possibly felt the same. You would always just be the best friend. You figured the buzz of alcohol might take the edge off, but you were Steve’s ride. You got up from the couch to go to the bathroom. You walked down the hall you had seen that girl take Steve, but you walked into the bathroom instead. 

“Y/N!” You jumped back, hand flying over your heart as Steve grabbed your hand and drug you further into the bathroom. 

“Hi, Stevie.” You breathed out, recovering from the jumpscare he pulled. He was standing against the sink, back facing the bathroom mirror. He pulled you into his chest and crushed you in a hug. 

“Oh, I missed you so much,” he sighed into your hair, nuzzling his face in it. You blinked. Steve was drunk.

“Stevie, you’re wasted. It’s time to go. It’s getting late anyway,” you pried yourself out of his arms, your face embarrassingly red. His hands found the sides of your face and tugged you back towards him. His lips met your forehead and your face was ablaze. 

“You’re the best, Y/N.” He mumbled against your forehead. He kissed you a couple more times before you finally came back to yourself. 

“Steve, come on. Let’s go,” you took his hands away from your face and held onto them, leading him out of the bathroom, down the hall, and out the front door to your car. He was rambling on behind you, but his words were drowned out by the music emanating from the house. You opened the passenger side door, shoving him into the seat and closing it before he could escape. You walked around to your side and got in, starting the car. You pulled out onto the street and started driving back to Steve’s house. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” You almost stopped the car right then as the words stumbled out of his mouth. You cleared your throat and chanced a glance over to him. His big, brown eyes were focused on you, a dopey grin on his face. 

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Harrington.” Your tone had a bit of a bite to it as you focused your eyes back on the road. You knew Steve was drunk as hell, but a part of you was still overjoyed at his words. 

“Who says I don’t mean it?” He tilted his head to the side and you felt your resolve crumble. 

“The alcohol, Stevie.” You were gentler this time, voice soft. You pulled into his driveway and shut off the car, getting out and heading to his side. You opened the door and Steve looked up at you, mouth slightly agape. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he breathed out, eyes tracing up and down your figure. 

“I’ll be believable once I’m dragging you into the house.” You muttered, grabbing him by his upper arms and hoisting him up. He leaned into you and you almost fell over. “Woah, come on, one foot in front of the other here, champ.” You coaxed, turning to where you were beside him and hooking arms with him. You lead him to the front door in a record of three minutes. You led him into the house and up the staircase to his bedroom. You opened his door and hauled him to his bed. He quickly got the memo and fell face first into it, feet hanging off the edge. 

You untied his shoes and tugged them off. “Stevie, I need you to change, you smell like shit.” You nudged one of his feet hanging off the edge with your knee. 

“No. I smell great, thank you.” His voice was muffled by the sheets and you rolled your eyes at him. You mentally prepared yourself to change him yourself. It’s not like you hadn’t seen Steve’s body before. You two had gone swimming countless times together and you had even walked in on him showering once before, but this felt different; it felt intimate. 

“Can you just sit up, please?” You moved to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. His head popped up and his eyes found yours. He gave you a nod and turned, sitting up to face you. “Thank you,” you smiled and moved your hands to grab the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms and you tugged the shirt over his head, breath catching in your throat at the sight. Moles dotted up his sides, back and chest, faint ab lines were traced into his stomach, and his chest was much harrier since the last time you had seen it. You stared at him for a moment longer before he was talking to you again.

“Like what you see, Y/L/N?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. You threw his shirt in his face.

“You’re unbearable, Harrington.” You groaned as he threw his shirt onto the floor behind him. Your hands moved down to his belt and you swallowed, face flushing. You undid it and you could’ve sworn you heard Steve’s breath catch. You pulled the belt from the jean’s belt loops and undid the button and zipper of the jeans. You got up, ready to take them off. He laid on his back and looked up at you expectantly “Hips up,” you commanded and he lifted his hips off of the bed for a moment. You slid the pants down his legs, pulling them all the way off. You picked up his shirt and jeans, putting them in his laundry basket. You searched in his closet for an old band tee and threw it blindly towards him, avoiding looking at him.

You turned to leave the room, a glass of water and some headache medicine in mind. “Y/N?” You faced his door, avoiding looking at him almost naked on his bed. This wouldn’t be good for your locked away feelings for him. “Y/N.” You finally turned to face him. He sat cross-legged on the bed, old shirt on, but his toned legs still out for you to see. “Can you stay?” He gave you those damn puppy dog eyes that could get you to do anything for him. 

“Steve, I gotta do homework and it’s late and I–” You couldn’t stay. There was no way you could contain your feelings for him if you did. 

“Please.” You felt your shoulder sag and your composure bust. You nodded. 

“I’m stealing your Tears For Fears shirt to sleep in, though.” You pointed a finger at him and he smiled back. That seemed to satisfy him as he moved to get under the blanket, back turned to you. You pulled out the t-shirt you had specifically mentioned and undressed from your going out attire into the t-shirt. It hung from your shoulder and fell to your mid thigh. You turned the light off and made your way over to the bed. You spun on your heel back towards Steve as you heard a low whistle come from him. “Steve!” You yelled, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at his face. He laughed at you, hands reaching for you. You slid onto the bed and his hands finally grabbed you, pulling your back flush to his chest. He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck and one of his hands rested on your waist, the other was running through your hair. 

“I think I fell in love with you in the seventh grade– before I even knew what love was. You were perfect, and you were by my side, and you were kind, smart, funny, and so so loving.” His words were a bit slurred still, but they were said clearly. You stopped breathing.

“What? What did you just say?” You turned your head to look at him but he kept his face in the crook of your neck, smothering your shoulder and neck in quick kisses. “Steve.” You said louder. You needed to know he wasn’t just drunk. That he was being honest. 

“I love you so much.” He said in between kisses. You turned in his arms to face him. He started sprinkling kisses all over your face. “And I’m not that drunk. I still know what I’m talking about, Y/N.” You scoffed at him and hit him in the chest. He laughed at the pout on your lips and leaned in, kissing you. You felt all of the tensions seep out of you and you melted into him. His hand was at the back of your head, fingers still intertwined with your hair. His other hand squeezed your waist. You both pulled away, forehead against each other. 

“You made me undress you and everything.” You furrowed your eyebrows at him. 

“That’s how I truly knew you had the hots for me, sweetheart. Your face was bright red. And are you complaining?” He smirked at you. 

“Shut up, Harrington.” You kissed him again– just because you could. “I love you too.”