#she used to be a teacher and she always had a soft spot for unruly children

[mikimeiko]

Delighted by the fact that my mum started The Expanse hating Amos and now, a season and a half in, he's her precious baby, she laughs at all his jokes and gets worried every time he gets shot (which is not a rare occasion) XD

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE SEONGJI YUK HEADCANONS

After he escaped from the grasp of the Shaman and from the Cheonlinag village, he found his solace by himself on the mountain and felt at peace till is peace got disrupted by a ragtag group of unruly teenagers who thought of him as their teacher and decided to stick around him who called themselves the Cheonliang family. Finding love was the LAST thing he ever had on his mind, he was born with an extra finger in his hand and foot was supposedly destined to be the Yaksha for that brat of a Shaman's son Taejin till he decided to say screw it and wanted to forge his own path. For a long time it was just him and the annoying teenagers till you stumbled upon his mountain 

It was the night time and the peace and serenity of the night was disrupted by you, whose soft sobs and sniffles echoed through the atmosphere of the night. Seongji came out of his cave slightly annoyed at first that someone was on the mountain but when his eyes landed on you with your tears streaming down your pretty face, your hair strands falling on your face and your hair gently billowing in the gentle breeze as your shirt was almost half torn, his expression softened. You made him feel something, more than he'd ever like to admit. You made him feel something warm...he felt like there was a warm fire lit at the bottom of his stomach and it was a feeling he couldn't explain. However his feelings were something to be bothered about later, right now he felt the urge to comfort you

He strode over to you slowly to not scare you off as he looked at you with a slight frown on his face. Silently without saying anything, his thumb gently brushed against your cheek and wiped your tear as he wrapped his jacket around you. "Why are you so upset...little things like you shouldn't be crying alone this late in the night'' he said as he surveyed your features with his calculating gaze. As you told him the story of how the Shaman almost tried to assault you and tried to rip your clothes off till you escaped from him and he'd sent the members of the Yamazaki clan to get you back, Seongji's eyes narrowed in anger. He felt his rage building up and he wanted nothing more than to just slam that conman of a Shaman's face into a bricked wall and rip out his damn eyes with his Tanghulu rods

He took you to an area where the other students were busy chatting with each other and you spotted five guys wearing sunglasses and the same jackets in the red and black and white colors, a chubby girl with glasses and blonde hair in a judo uniform and another girl with raven hair and was slightly younger than the rest of them. "Oh, someone new, hello" said the blonde chubby girl as she introduced herself as Mary Kim. "We can see she's new dumbass elephant'' said another guy as he scoffed and rolled his eyes as Mary and the guy started bickering with each other. A guy leaned in towards you with a friendly smile on his face. "Sorry about them, they're always like that. The guy she's arguing with is Vinjin by the way, he used to be a sacrifice before our teacher saved him'' said the guy to you as he introduced himself as Jaewoo to you. "Shut up, I could fight on my own you know'' said Vinjin. "Last I remember you started crying and begged me to save you...correct me if I'm wrong and also, I'm not your teacher, you kids really don't have anything better to do in your lives...'' said Seongji as a slight amused smirk formed on his face as Vinjin instantly shut up and grumbled under his breath 

You were introduced to the other people as well such as Taebong, Hyungjae, Wooseok and Sujin. Seongji sneaked a few glances at you every now and then as he looked at your nervous behavior. You reminded him of a scared little animal, he found it endearing actually. He handed you a plate of food and when you politely tried to refuse him, his eyes narrowed at you. "Eat. I can see you're exhausted, don't give me all that being polite crap'' he said in a stern tone as he handed you the plate. You started staying with the Cheonliang family after that and grew rather close to them. The first time when you fell asleep, he took in your features and he knew he was staring at you like an idiot but he couldn't help it. You looked so... peaceful and innocent. You did not deserve to go through whatever happened to you. Something in him urged him to protect you and keep you safe and maybe stab the Shaman in the eye one day 

Overtime you'll start to realize his feelings for you would become possessive. He realizes his feelings for you are spinning out of control but does he care? Of course not, he wants to keep you safe. However it starts off slowly. He doesn't want you going into the village anymore since he's worried someone might take you away. You're always to be under his gaze where he can keep an eye on you. He'd be damned if Shigeaki Kojima and his lapdogs take you away from him. At first he tries to shove his feelings inside for you deep down. But when you spot him brooding over his thoughts and when you comfort him and hold his rough calloused hands in your ones, it takes him all his self control to not hug you. He's never had anyone compliment his fingers, he was always viewed as a monster. His mind went into a literal overdrive as he slightly blushed for the very first time and looked slightly flustered and embarrassed as he felt his heart hammer against his chest wildly 

He's more of a silent observer. He always watches you from the shadows, even though he might look aloof and distant and stoic, deep down he really does care for you, a lot. If you have nightmares he'll sigh softly as he'll run his fingers through your hair gently and awkwardly yet comfortingly pat your head as you'll fall asleep. Don't ask me how but somehow he'll find a way to know whatever you like. Maybe he'll overhear one of his students talking or something and his interest will pique up. Whatever it is that you want, you'll have it. He has obsessive feelings for you but he won't act upon them till the time you're in any kind of danger 

One day you were about to go into the village since you needed something and the members of the Yamazaki clan tried to take you away after Taejin wanted you to be his. Seongji seethed and saw red as soon as he heard the news. When he saw the men grabbing you by your hair and making you cry, that's when he felt like he snapped. His anger coursed through him like a burning flame and he felt like things were a blur but within a matter of mere seconds, he managed to knock everyone out. He ruthlessly beat them up and stabbed them with his Tanghulu rods and even stabbed one of them in the eye. Their screams of pain didn't matter to him, they hurt you, they deserved it. A primitive darker side of him filled him with thoughts of just murdering them for good so they'd learn a lesson. However he didn't want to make you scared, you needed to be comforted first 

"Why did you leave... I told you I'd give you whatever you want. It's not safe for you to be out on your own anymore. Come on, let's go'' said Seongji to you as he slightly frowned and he lifted you in his arms like a sack of flour and carried you back to the cave. He'll patch up any of your wounds and a sad look will pass on his face if sees any of your injuries though he might hide it. You were almost taken away from him, he can't allow you to do as you please anymore, not when your safety is at stake. He'll ask the others to keep an eye on you as well and you'll bet your allowance they'll IMMEDIATELY snitch on you the first chance they get. Look, they all like you but they like their teacher more and they're loyal to him so... say goodbye to your privacy I guess 

Seongji might pretend to be annoyed when he has to deal with you when he's cooking but he secretly loves your company. He hates the thought of someone else stealing you away from him, he's seen the way some men looked at you and it just makes him want to rip their bloody eyes out. He'll deal with your company and presence with a soft smile on his face. If you start getting cheeky and start saying cheesy stuff he'll roll his eyes at you and smirk but he'll be a blushing mess deep down. He has barely any experience when it comes to romance and love but he still wants to take care of you nonetheless 

Don't even THINK of trying to escape from him or leave him, he's known as the King of Cheonliang for a reason. If you somehow manage to get out of Cheonliang, he'll have to call his 'friends' for help, his friends being none other than the first generation Kings themselves. While Seongji is not pleased with your escape attempt, he will glare at you in a cold manner and list out all the dangerous possibilities that could have happened to you had your escape attempt been successful. He just wants to love you and protect you, why is that so hard for you to understand? He'll give you the silent treatment and treat you like a naughty kid till you're ready to apologize for your actions in which case he'll embrace you and gently pat your head and tell you how much he loves you and it's all for your own good. If you start throwing a tantrum and kicking at things, he'll just be amused. You remind him of a bratty little child, however if you're crying your eyes and heart out, he'll feel his chest tighten. He doesn't like seeing you cry, he'll just sigh and wipe your tears away but he'll never allow you to leave. You're belong to him and he'll do everything he can to ensure it stays that way...

[masiethewriter]

Honored Eternal Path of Demise CH. 2 - New Game

Her on the other hand Shen Qingqiu immediately recognizes. Though when her face is not twisted in rage and mania, plunging a knife into his chest, she looks quite different. Very cute, he would usually think. If he hadn't experienced her stabbing him. Multiple times. To his death. "Senior! You are here too?" She calls out to him the moment they see him at the top of the stairs. "Ning Yingying, you know who this is?" The boy asks her before Shen Qingqiu can answer. "Of course! That is Shen Qingqiu. One of the seniors that helped us when we first started. Don't you remember A-Lou?" Ning Yingying answers, confirming Shen Qingqius suspicions of who they are.

Previous Chapter ~~//~~ Next Chapter

Shen Yuan opens his eyes and breathes.

For a minute he lies perfectly still. The enjoyment of breathing without food or blood blocking his airways is something to marvel at. Who would have thought breathing is this awesome? He has never really appreciated it like it deserves. Definitely something he won't take for granted anymore. 

Enjoying air going in and out his lungs is cool, but eventually he has to get up. Pushing himself into a sit, he feels much more clear headed than before. This time, he is even able to take in the room around him.

It is not the same as where he woke up last. First of all, he is laying in a bed this time. A queen size. Relatively clean. Not particularly luxurious or anything. It matches the rest of the room that is also quite modest. Wallpaper is old fashioned and loose in some spots. A garderope stands tall, wood dark. An old desk full of dust. A dirty mirror in the corner. A door leading out. 

Rain splatters against the one window of the room, leaving constant noise. There is nothing to see outside it, as it is too dark.

Slowly getting out of bed, Shen Yuan experiences none of the vertigo from earlier. He feels like he just woke up from a nap, the actual restful kind. Is this how people normally feel after sleeping? Sounded fake, but awesome now that he is experiencing it. Now he can't help but feel jealous of those who always woke up like this.

The floorboards creak beneath his feet as he walks around the room. As he gets in front of the mirror, he has to stop and take a look.

He looks nothing like himself. What Shen Yuan is used to seeing is a scrawny otaku, always choosing comfortable outfits above style. Hair an unruly mess, with round glasses big enough to cover half his face. He's never been particularly handsome or stylish. Not someone that would stand out in a crowd.

The man he sees in the mirror is the absolute opposite of that. He stands tall, muscles lean though with strength behind them. Instead of the warzone his hair can usually be found in, it is parted evenly, soft locks laying elegantly against his head. He is wearing an unknown school uniform that clearly no common folk could afford. His new glasses are slender and give off the vibe of someone scholarly and intelligent. 

Seeing this, the last of his doubts slither away. Instead of Shen Yuans own body, it is clear he now finds himself as Shen Qingqiu, popular stallion novel scum villain and less popular shitty video game #1 expendable character.

Allowing himself a minute of denial from his situation, Shen Yuan studies how the game developers have translated Shen Qingqiu into a character for their game. 

With their modern setting they of course couldn't keep Cang Qiong Mountain Sect or any other cultivation aspects in their story. But since so many of the characters' relations rely on hierarchy, they had to find another way for everyone to be connected. So the obvious solution was of course to just do the cliche and make them all students of the same rich kid boarding school. Apparently teachers aren't popular characters, so the peak lords of the novel were turned into last year students while the disciples became first year juniors. 

Just how much older were the last year students than those who just started? Never specified, so fans wouldn't be able to poke at broken timelines or complain about age differences. 

So how do you turn the scholarly peak lord into an unspecified boarding school student? You make him look like a nerd of course!

A pretty handsome nerd, but Shen Yuan's point still stands. 

But this is only so far he can allow himself to be distracted before he has to confront his situation. Namely that he now finds himself as the character most known for its merciless and gruesome deaths, who is only able to survive in the one, almost impossible to gain, secret ending.

Shen Yuan is not just screwed. He is absolutely fucked!

What the fuck kind of shit game is this!? Shen Yuan wants his money back, this isn't what he agreed to! If he was going to transmigrate into another world, could it be one where he wasn't going to die over a hundred awful deaths? At least in the original novel Shen Qingqiu only had to die once!

A horrific death it would take years of torture to reach, but after that it would be over!

He is vaguely able to recall what happened after he died, but before he woke up the first time. Some kind of dark void and a mission quest so obscurely worded it might as well be gibberish! Shit about misfortune and stories and lives and nothing that made any sense! Hello, anyone there? Some system that can offer the least bit of guidance in this fucked up world??

No? Nothing? Well, fuck it all then.

Okay, enough with the cursing. That is what got Shen Yuan killed in the first place and he doesn't need a repeat of that.

While a system that could help would have been nice, he got to stay positive. Since he has just been thrown into this with nothing to point the way, that must mean Shen Yuan is free to do what he wants. No rules also mean no restrictions in how he handles his situation. 

Also, Shen Yuan is no noob. He has spent every day playing this game since he brought it. He knows it inside and out by now, every secret and hidden shortcut. While he will likely still be limited by certain aspects of the storyline, he is also a walking and talking cheat guide. Nothing should be able to surprise him.

Whatever his quest is, isn't really that important. What matters is that clearly once he reaches the ending of the game the quest will be completed. Which ending or what will happen after, he will find out then. Problem for future Shen Yuan. For now there is nothing he can do but play the game.

So accepting his new role as Shen Qingqiu, he finally leaves the room.

The door opens with a shrill creak, loud enough to make him flinch. He steps into a dark hallway.

It is clear that the old mansionly aesthetic is going to follow him wherever he goes. The flooring is covered by a dark red carpet, the wallpaper made to match. Candlesticks protrude from the walls, giving off an eerie glow. Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to consider who turned them all on.

Randomly choosing a direction, he takes a quick look at the first door he passes. 

Nothing stands out about it. At first it appears to be made of dark wood. But as Shen Qingqiu examines it closer, he realizes it is fake. There is no space between the edges and the wall. Almost like it has been painted on. Taking hold of the door handle, nothing moves as he tries to pull on it.

He will have to be carefull, as they look perfectly real from a distance. Wouldn't be good to try to get through a fake door if he is in a chase. But with this knowledge, he is able to pass by most of the doors in the corridor with no worry. Would be a waste of time to check if every door is fake. Not something he wants to do on his first playthrough.

Continuing through the repeating hallway he is finally rewarded by the sound of voices. Following them to a door that is actually different, decorated with elegant carvings in the wood, he opens it to a grand foyer.

Shen Qingqiu finds himself on the second floor, two huge staircases leading down to an overly decorated entrance. Old paintings with golden frames line the walls, dusty chairs and couches placed around to create gathering spots. The main door is so huge that Shen Qingqiu doubts he would be able to push it open by himself. Thick oak wide enough for 5 people to walk through at once, and at least twice as tall as any of them.

And in the middle of it all stands two figures. A boy and a girl.

Shen Qingqiu will be frank. The boy is the most handsome person he has ever seen in his life. Standing taller than even Shen Qingqiu's upgraded height, his wide shoulders and broad back shows of his natural masculinity. His uniform fits him well, jacket tied around his waist and sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms. He is clearly muscular, but not to an exaggerated degree. His dark curly hair is pulled back into a rough ponytail that only adds to the handsome features of his face. 

In contrast to his powerful and dependable build, his face is one of kindness and slight innocence. He seems like the kind of friend you can rely on and trust. Someone who will always show support and encouragement. 

In summary, he looks like someone who can win a fight if needed. And someone who gives great hugs when asked. Though out of Shen Qingqiu and the girl, it is no question who would be given which.

Her on the other hand Shen Qingqiu immediately recognizes. Though when her face is not twisted in rage and mania, plunging a knife into his chest, she looks quite different. Very cute, he would usually think. If he hadn't experienced her stabbing him. Multiple times. To his death.

"Senior! You are here too?" She calls out to him the moment they see him at the top of the stairs.

"Ning Yingying, you know who this is?" The boy asks her before Shen Qingqiu can answer.

"Of course! That is Shen Qingqiu. One of the seniors that helped us when we first started. Don't you remember A-Lou?" Ning Yingying answers, confirming Shen Qingqius suspicions of who they are.

Being face to face with Lou Binghe, the fated protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way, Shen Qingqiu just barely manages to not run to him. Every fanboy instinct is screaming at him to tell Lou Binghe that he is his biggest fan. He is just barely able to keep in his excitement and not scream like an obsessed fangirl. Instead he keeps his face passive and blank, not allowing it to show anything. 

As the two continue to whisper uninteresting exposition to each other, Shen Qingqiu descends the stairs, unhurried and with a hand gently trailing the railing. 

As he reaches the bottom, Ning Yingying runs up to him, none of her expressions hiding her excitement. Lou Bingle follows, much more cautiously. 

"Senior Shen, it is so good to see you! Do you have any idea where we are? A-Lou and I woke up with no memory of how we got here. I am so lucky we found each other, I have no idea what I would do if I was all alone by myself-" Ning Yingying ramples, barely pausing to breathe.

Shen Qingqiu lets her continue for a bit before he holds up a hand to quiet her.

"I just got here after waking up myself. I don't know anything either."

Disappointment takes over, the entirety of Ning Yingying's body crumbling as he blows out her hope.

"Does senior Shen have any idea of why we are here?" Lou Binghe then asks. His voice is low, but strong, exactly what Shen Qingqiu had always imagined the protagonist of his most hated novel would sound like. Being this close to his favorite character, he can't keep from internally crying with happiness for how well Lou Binghe is being portrayed. This one, this person, this protagonist is why he kept going through each terrible chapter of the novel and the entire awful game!

Externally Shen Qingqiu barely spares him a glance. Instead of keeping his focus on the teary Ning Yingying, he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Clearly someone brought us here, though for what reason we can only guess. Nevertheless we should focus on finding a way away from here."

Brightening up as if she didn't consider this obvious course of action, Ning Yingying agrees. "Senior Shen is right! If we can just get away from here, surely everything will be fine!"

"We just checked and the doors aren't locked. We were just about to go out," Lou Binghe says, continuing the expected dialogue.

Good thing Shen Qingue went through this section of the game at least a hundred times. So he knows exactly what to say.

"Hmm, okay. You go do that," he starts. "I will look for a phone we can use to call for help."

This makes the other two pause. "Senior Shen is not coming with us?" Ning Yingying asks. Shen Qingqiu pushes his glasses, taking the classic pretentious asshole stance.

"Of course not. We have no idea where this is. What will you do when you find the way out? Keep going in the rain hoping to randomly find someone who will help? And what if we're in the middle of nowhere, not a soul to be found?" With each word, Shen Qingqiu can see he kills off more of Ning Yingying's hope. Still, he has to continue. "It's better to seek out multiple solutions than rely on one uncertain one. I prefer to stay here and not get my uniform unnecessarily ruined."

Or rather, this is the game designer's lazy excuse to immediately split up the party. Characters introduced and setting presented. The job here is done, so away with the scum villain, thank you for your contribution. 

Couldn't they think of a better reason to get rid of Shen Qingqiu? Even a loner like him should see it would be better to stick together. Though in actuality this was to his advantage.

"What will senior Shen be doing then?" It is Lou Binghes turn to ask, perfectly following the script. Though this is the part where Shen Qingqiu must divide from the story.

"I will start checking out the rooms here, see if I can find anything to contact the outside world." He explains, pointing towards a door hidden beneath the staircase.

Originally the real Shen Qingqiu chose to explore the upper floor, essentially leaving the story until next time he was needed. But this cheat sheet version knew where to go to find the first place of note. No reason to waste time, when he could go straight for the important items.

Ning Yingying looks at him worried, but he can’t read Luo Binghe. Since Shen Qingqiu hadn't broken character yet, he wasn’t worried about what was happening in their NPC minds. If things went according to plan, he didn't expect to see either of them for a long time after this.

"Will Senior be okay? I don't like the thought of you walking all by yourself," Ning Yingying tries one last time.

"You should worry more about yourself than others. You stick with... your friend... and he should take care of you. This one is perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

With these words Lou Binghe finally accepts his decision. Taking Ning Yingying’s hand he leads her towards the exit.

"Be careful Senior Shen! Please wait for us to come back for you!" Ning Yingying calls as Lou Binghe opens the huge doors like they weigh nothing. As the outside reveals the heavy rain, they only hesitate for a second, before they hurry along. The heavy doors fall closed, the loud bang following them ominous. 

With a deep sigh, Shen Quingiu can finally relax and let his mask fall.

From the beginning he knew he had to stay in character. While it was tough to act like an aloof and prickly rich kid, he wasn't risking the consequences of acting otherwise. In a setting like this, with paranoia and insanity being the norm, you didn't act in a way that would catch people's attention. Better to stay off the radar as much as possible.

So with the others gone, he turned around, going straight for the door he pointed out earlier. 

The room he entered was surprisingly cozy compared to the rest of the mansion. Rather than blood red carpets and walls with heavy shadows, here was properly lit with furniture that made it clear this was a study of sorts.

Or a safe room, as Shen Qingqiu knew it to be. 

Bookshelves lined the walls, one big closet placed on one side. In the center of the room was a big desk and chair, many knick knacks placed around. The only window of the room was huge and faced an outside road that actually had a lamppost to light up the area. Besides the door was a two-person couch that looked soft and inviting. 

Like commonly found in many horror games this was the one room that never hid any traps and which the monster would never randomly step into. This would also be the first room Ning Yingying would hide in after getting back to the mansion.

Shen Qingqiu knew exactly what was about to happen to her and Lou Binghe.

Originally she was meant to be the tutorial character of the game. The player would start playing as her, waking up in the mansion with no idea what was going on. Soon after she would stumble upon Lou Binghe and the two would seek a way out. Finding the entrance, they would meet the scum villain, the scene playing out almost exactly as what had just happened. Shen Qingqiu would refuse to go with them, instead heading for the upper floor, not to appear in the story for a while after. 

Ning Yingying and Lou Binghe would explore the outside, basically introducing the basic game mechanics. How to interact with others, finding items, running and crouching and so on. This would continue a bit, until they finally found the gate leading away. Though at this point, they wouldn’t be able to leave for two reasons.

1. The gate would be locked with no key in sight and no alternate exit.

2. The desecrated corpse of some nameless classmate would be found, clear signs that their death had been no accident.

This is when the Killer, the first monster of the game, would spawn. Attacking the two of them, they would be forced to split up, Lou Binghe disappearing to who-knows-where and Ning Yingying having to run back to the mansion to hide. With the Killer right on her heels, she would be led inside the safe room, where the hiding mechanic would be taught using the big closet in the room.

What happened after then became more dependent on the player. This was when the game truly began and it was possible to explore freely and begin to solve the story.

To Shen Qingqiu, most of this didn't matter. Already a free soul, with no need for a tutorial, being perfectly capable of bending his knees for sneaking or picking up items with his hands, he didn't feel a need to follow in Ning Yingying’s footsteps. Rather he saw the beginning of the game as the timer for when he could no longer act freely. 

Until Ning Yingying and Lou Binghe found the first corpse, the Killer should not be on the loose. So until then, he should not have to worry about surviving, but could instead concentrate on gathering items and solving puzzles. Which is why he went into this room for arguably the most important item the game had.

Going to the desk, he investigated it a bit before he found a secret compartment. Pushing it to the side, a sliding puzzle was revealed, one he easily solved. Putting the last piece in the correct spot a click was heard before one of the drawers suddenly opened. Quickly, he gathered the one item it held. 

The spiritbox.

With this Shen Qingqiu could officially begin to play. He already beat the game once, gaining every single ending, no matter how challenging or impossible. He was confident that he could do so again. 

Time to start a new save.

[bluefuckboy]

Summer Jasmine ✨

Kiribaku A/B/O (Omegaverse)

Alpha Kirishima and Omega Bakugo

Summary: Bakugo has been a single father for three years, after a one night stand with an unknown Alpha resulted in him becoming pregnant. He has always struggled with being an Omega, but has been successful at hiding his true identity, including now while raising his daughter, Yuki. After an incident at preschool, he is called into a parent teacher conference. But what was supposed to be a simple meeting turns out to be a twist of so called “fate.” Bakugo questions whether the difficult journey he’s endured has led to this Alpha, whose scent is like a peaceful, summer breeze.

I’ll be posting the full fic on AO3 soon. It’s about 10 chapters or so and approximately 15K. The name comes from a song released in 1972 called “Summer Breeze” by Seals & Crofts. I’ll explain more when the full fic is released, but go give it a listen as it’s a good, calming song.

This is the first chapter with a note at the end on how the a/b/o universe is structured for this fic

Trigger Warnings: implications of assault against Omegas (including brief mention of attempted rape), mpreg, mentions of abortion, issues dealing with self-hate and struggles with gender identity in terms of secondary gender of a/b/o, later chapters are nsfw

@slackslumber I’m sorry this turned out to be a light novel

Bakugo glanced up at the plate next to the classroom door.

Kirishima E.

Pre-K

He inhaled and ran a hand through his hair, which he had attempted to tame in vain. It wasn’t his first parent teacher conference. Yuki was an unruly child and was becoming even more so as she got older. This time she had tried to bite the ear of another kid and Bakugo was prepared for another dull lecture from a dull teacher who didn’t know a thing about actually raising kids.

He let the breath he had been holding out and gripped the doorknob, giving it a turn. The room was set up like any normal Pre-K classroom would be. There were little brightly colored chairs in groups, large matts with the letters of the alphabet and numbers adorned the floor and model planets hung from the ceiling.

At the front of the classroom was a large desk at which sat a man with bright red hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail. He was dressed in a nice button up, sans tie, with the top couple buttons undone. Rimmed glasses sat perched atop his nose and he pushed them up with the butt of a pencil as he stared at the stack of papers in front of him.

Bakugo cleared his throat and the man looked up.

“Oh! Sorry,” he got up and went to extend a hand to Bakugo, “I’m Kirishima, you must be Yuki’s dad.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Bakugo replied, shaking the hand offered to him.

Kirishima was tall and Bakugo opted to stare at his feet clad in worn dress shoes instead of trying to meet the amber eyes of the teacher. Kirishima motioned for Bakugo to take a seat at a chair that had been moved in front of the desk.

Bakugo sat down, crossing his arms out of habit. He tended to keep to himself and that extended to his interactions with other people. He didn’t want to draw any extra attention to himself.

Kirishima seemed to be the complete opposite. It was clear he was well suited for the job he was in. Bakugo could see children’s drawings hung on the wall behind Kirishima. Little stick figures with crude faces. There were a couple that had a character with spiky red scribbled on top of its head. They had shaky letters drawn next to the stick figure that read “Mr. K.”

Kirishima moved the stack of papers to the side, and set his glasses atop it. He gave Bakugo a toothy smile and Bakugo noticed the sharpness of his canines. His brow furrowed and he tensed a bit. He didn’t particularly care for Alphas, so he was usually a little wary around them.

But Kirishima’s eyes were soft and warm. There was a small scar by one of his eyebrows and Bakugo noticed he had the makings of crows feet at the corner of his eyes despite his youthful appearance. They were probably from smiling so wide that he looked almost like a shark.

Kirishima picked up the pencil he had earlier and twirled it as he said, “I hate having meetings like this, so I’m sorry if I seem a little bit unprofessional.”

Bakugo didn’t reply and Kirishima continued, “Yuki is wonderful. She’s very bright for her age and does great with her grades. But she seems, hmm, how do I put this.”

He tapped the pencil against his temple in thought, his bottom lip sucked under his top teeth. His expression turned to concern as he spoke again.

“It feels like Yuki is lashing out, so that’s why I wanted to talk with you.”

Bakugo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he said, “I can make her apologize to that boy and his parents. We had a conversation about using our words and stuff.”

Kirishima waved his hand. “No no it’s not that. Well, it is a part of it. But not the main reason I called you here.”

Kirishima sighed and sat back in his chair. “I care a lot about my students. It’s kinda silly but I think of them as my own kids sometimes. So I want them to do well. But not just in school.”

His cheeks tinged red slightly. “I know it’s not my place to butt in on people’s personal lives, so I apologize if I offend you, but I’m just concerned that this might be something for Yuki that is bigger than the classroom.”

He turned to reach behind him, grabbing a picture off the wall that Bakugo hadn’t noticed during his initial glance at the artwork. Kirishima placed it in front of him and Bakugo looked down at it.

It was a picture of a little stick figure girl with a bright pink bow in her hair. She was standing next to a figure of a man who was holding the black line that was the stick figure girl’s hand. The word “Daddy” had been written next to the figure in legible handwriting that must have been from a TA or something.

The background of the photo was scribbled with a blue sky and green grass, with a little house in the distance. But there was an area that was left blank, a white spot on the other side of the girl. Her little stick hand was surrounded by the white, almost as though she was trying to reach for something. “Yuki” was written in large shaky letters at the bottom of the paper.

Bakugo’s heart clenched as Kirishima spoke softly.

“This was from a week ago. We had draw your family as our art project. I don’t want to pry or assume anything, but when I asked Yuki what the white spot was, it seemed to make her upset.”

Bakugo could feel his cheeks getting hot. He wasn’t sure how to reply. It was obvious that he didn’t have a partner, and being a single parent wasn’t unusual. Rather it was the fact that in their society he wouldn’t be considered Yuki’s father.

Bakugo’s silence made Kirishima redden a bit more and he said, “I’m sorry if this is sore subject. I’m just concerned.”

“It’s fine,” Bakugo spat.

The words came out more defensive than he meant them too and Kirishima’s eyebrows knit together closer with concern. Then he asked the question Bakugo always dreaded he’d hear.

“Can I ask you about Yuki’s mother?”

Bakugo swallowed and tried to compose himself before speaking again.

“I’m raising Yuki on my own. Her mother is…”

He trailed off as his heart started beating faster. He was always so cautious and he knew that he should tell Kirishima to mind his own god damn business. But something about the calmness in Kirishima’s voice and his genuine smile made Bakugo feel like this was a safe space.

He tried to push down the ball of anxiety buzzing in his chest as he gripped the sides of the chair and said quietly, “It’s Yuki’s father, not her mother. I… I’m the one who gave birth to her.”

The admonition seemed to hang in the air and Bakugo hung his head. It shouldn’t be something he was ashamed about. Male Omegas were rare and it was even rarer for one to be able to give birth. They called it a “True Omega” and the odds were about one in a nearly half a million. It was a rarity that was often exploited, which was why Bakugo had kept it secret, even from Yuki when she asked why she didn’t have a mommy like the other kids at the playground.

The classroom was deadly quiet and Bakugo’s adrenaline was nearing the fight or flight stage, but then Kirishima spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I care about Yuki a lot, so I promise I won’t make things any more difficult. And if I can help in anyway, I’d be more than happy to.”

The offer caught Bakugo off guard and he finally looked up. Kirishima’s expression was one Bakugo had only seen on the face of characters from the movies he used to watch as a kid. A look that made you feel safe and protected, almost like a knight in shining armor. Kirishima smiled and it felt like a weight had been lifted from Bakugo’s chest. Even the air seemed clearer and he realized his knuckles had turned white from his death grip on the chair.

He let go, but regretted it as his hands started shaking. It felt like he was coming down from a panic attack and he felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks. He flushed from embarrassment and ducked his head into his lap.

It was mortifying, but he couldn’t stop and his whole body trembled as he wrapped his arms round himself. Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks and he wanted to melt into the floor. But suddenly there was an aroma like a summer breeze.

It wrapped around him and as he inhaled shakily his trembling started to stop. His whole body felt like it was being enveloped in a warm embrace from the inside out. It was a comforting, almost faintly familiar scent and he could feel his muscles relax as the tears gradually started to subside.

A tissue appeared in front of him and he realized that Kirishima had come around the desk to kneel beside him. Bakugo reached out a shaky hand to accept the tissue. As he did, the tips of his fingers brushed against Kirishima’s.

It was the briefest of contact, but it felt like little sparks had ignited from where the pads of their fingers had touched. Bakugo looked to see if Kirishima had experienced a similar feeling, but his face was still etched with worry. His hand on the back of the chair did tighten slightly however and Bakugo’s heart rate went up despite not knowing what he was expecting.

But then Kirishima was standing up again, taking the smell of the summer breeze with him. It made Bakugo realize what had happened and he looked at Kirishima with an expression between anger and fear.

“Did you just use pheromones on me?”

.

A/B/O Universe Notes

Alpha/Omega changes occur at puberty

Secondary sex characteristics manifest. Alphas will go through a growth spurt and will eventually grow their “fangs.” Omegas will have their first heat. Both will begin to emit pheromones and part of growing up is being able to control them. However, thanks to modern medicine, blockers makes it much easier.

70% of the population is Beta

Betas are essentially normal humans. They can procreate with each other and don’t experience a rut or a heat.

20% of the population is Alpha

They are considered a superior form of human. Physically they are usually a bit taller, able to gain muscle very easily, and have lots of stamina.

A unique characteristic of the Alpha are their fangs. They manifest during puberty and are attached to glands in the Alphas mouth. During arousal, while in rut, or even a rush of adrenaline can cause an Alpha’s fangs to descend slightly from the gum line and is referred to as “baring.” The canine teeth are connected directly to the glands and are the sharpest and most prominent, but the lateral incisor will also sharpen slightly during puberty. When an Alpha bares their fangs, the canines will become extremely pronounced. When marking, the fangs are used to puncture the skin and can secrete fluid from the glands in order to mark an Omega.

An Alpha will experience a rut occasionally. During this time they will become fixated on mating and can become irrational. Ruts are sporadic and with the help of blockers, most Alphas are able to avoid rut.

10% of the population is Omega

Generally thought of as the “weakest sex” Omegas are usually smaller in frame and it is hard for them to gain muscle. They can become pregnant regardless of gender, but male Omegas are not common. Impregnating a male Omega is also extremely difficult, unless they are a “True Omega” Most male Omegas are recessive.

The Omega experiences an estrus period, or heat, once a month. It will make them want to breed, same as the Alpha’s rut. Unlike a rut, blockers have no effect on the estrus period. During the estrus, an Omega will become wet, secreting what is referred to as slick, making it easier for an Alpha to enter them. For female Omegas it is secreted vaginally, for male Omegas it is secreted anally. However, male Omegas often produce significantly less slick during the estrus period and the chances of pregnancy are very low.

True Omegas are a phenomenon where the body is fully Omega, regardless of gender. The person will be able to be impregnated easily, even if they are male, and their estrus periods are often more intense. The percentage of True Omegas that have been reported is less than 1%.

Copulation:

Between Betas it’s exactly how it works in regular humans.

Between an Alpha and an Omega there are a few more factors. Pheromones play a part in intercourse, both in initiating and during. Slick makes it very easy for an Alpha to enter an Omega. During intercourse the Alpha is able to “knot” an Omega if significantly aroused, or in rut. Knotting lets the Alpha stay connected to the Omega for an extended period of time. Ejaculation is delayed while the Alpha is knotting. Once knotted, an Alpha will ejaculate numerous times into the Omega. Knotting can last for a few seconds, to over an hour. The physical knot is a gland at the base of an Alpha’s penis that will swell in the Omega, causing them to become stuck together until the Alpha finishes ejaculation or is rendered incapacitated.

Pregnancy

For Betas it is around a normal gestational period of 9 months. For Omegas it is shorter, usually around 4 to 5 months. Children of Omegas tend to be on the smaller side, regardless of the parents genders.

Fated Mates/Pairs

This is regarded as a fantastical idea, but has never been proven as fact or fiction. A fated pair consists of an Alpha and Omega who are so compatible, it’s almost like fate has brought them together. Some claim to have experienced almost a supernatural pull to their partner, but scientists have labeled it the evolution of compatibility making it easier for Alphas and Omegas to select the best mate for them.

[moonflowerlesbians]

Hey! Could you do #5, please? Dani x Jamie obviously

Yes of course!! I hope this is satisfactory :D

send me prompts pretty please?

~~~

“Don’t yell at me like I’m a bloody child!”

“Don’t throw scissors!” Dani’s protest is weak against Jamie’s surprising anger. She hasn’t seen her girlfriend like this since Miles, well, Peter, had meddled in her rose garden.

They’d been working in the kitchen, struggling with a new recipe Dani had torn from a magazine. She’d asked Jamie to pass her the scissors to open a package of frozen peas, and the tool had been tossed haphazardly across the countertop, sent skittering to the floor near Dani’s bare foot.

Their standoff lasts only a moment longer before Dani caves. “I’m sorry. I… that wasn’t necessary.”

Jamie shakes her head as if warding off a haze. She pinches the bridge of her nose, a guilty expression plastered across hard features. “No, no, it’s me. I overreacted.”

“I just worry, you know. That’s all it is,” Dani says. “It’s the teacher in me. Got to keep all my kids safe.” She means it to be a joke, she really does, but she doesn’t miss the way Jamie winces. “Jamie?”

“Ah, I’m fine. It’s fine.” Jamie tries to shrug her off, the way she always does, the way she’s had to her whole life. Just letting things roll off her back as if nothing bothers her, never letting her cracks show.

“Jamie…” Dani’s prompt is soft, gentle, as if she’s speaking to a cornered animal.

When Jamie meets her gaze, her eyes are world-weary. They flicker with the memories of someone far older than the lines of her face reveal. Her shoulders seem to carry the weight of several lifetimes, and Dani is determined to share the burden. Jamie sighs and settles on their ratty couch.

“I’ve, ah, never quite been a kid,” she begins awkwardly. Dani smiles encouragingly. She knows vulnerability does not come easily to Jamie. “Had to grow up fast, you know. ‘Tween caring for myself and a baby, wasn’t much room for recklessness. ‘Specially accidents in the kitchen.” She pauses here, and Dani understands that this isn’t about her.

It’s about a little girl forced by the world to take on far more than should be expected of a child.

Jamie runs a nervous hand through her unruly curls before continuing. She shakes her head. “Even in the system, even when the grownups were supposed to be lookin’ after me… well, it was hard to believe a bloke to have your best interests at heart when he had his hand up your top the second his wife left the house.”

Jamie’s alluded to her time in foster care but never expanded much beyond mentions of pervy men. Dani had suspected, on the rare occasions that she had permitted herself to speculate, that Jamie had seen some of the worst the system had to offer. Dani had never probed, only offered a warm embrace when a frustrated customer raised their voice or someone stepped a bit too close. And, for the most part, that was enough. Jamie would tell her if she wanted to, and until today, she’d never shown any inclination.

“It’s just a bit strange, even still, having someone to look out for me. Never really been treated like a kid before.” She clears her throat.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Dani says sincerely. “I didn’t mean it to come off that way.”

“I know.” Jamie takes her hand. “Just a sore spot. Still getting used to having another person around and all that.” She waves dismissively.

“Well, you’d better get used to it,” Dani teases. “You don’t have to do everything yourself anymore.”

Jamie hums and lays her head in the crook of Dani’s neck. “Can’t say I’m upset about it.”

“Just as long as you promise not to go around tossing scissors across the room.” She can all but hear Jamie rolling her eyes.

“Yes, Miss Clayton.”

“Oh, is that where we are now?” Dani laughs sweetly, leaning down to meet Jamie’s lips with her own. She can taste the apology, the forgiveness, on her tongue.

Jamie doesn’t often speak of her past, and Dani, ever patient, will never push. But, after that day, the stories come just a little easier, the weight on Jamie’s shoulders a bit lighter. Their love, built on trust and communication, grows stronger.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 05

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: drinking

A/N: mentions of absinthe. fun fact, my parents favourite drink is absinthe and it is just awful (take it from me, your friendly non-drinking friend who had to drink it once during a friend’s wedding tradition) however i do feel like bucky would enjoy it, idk why. hope you like this chapter, lemme know.  enjoy xx

Next Chapter >>

Hecate rushed with James to Groves of Persephone. These grounds stood in the Elysium, the better part of the Underworld and Hades’ gift to Persephone once she became his wife. It was a beautiful place but even James had to be stunned by, at the height of its beauty it always had various flowers and plants flourishing by and climbing up the white marbled columns of Persephone’s resting place. After Persephone and the original god of Death disappeared from the Cosmos, the Grove became part of James’ possessions as lord of the underworld.

It was where the noblest of souls laid rest and James’ himself could not believe that the Groves of Persephone were part of the Underworld due to the its sheer beauty. However, once he stepped in, the once bright, flourishing, green and colourful themes that gave that place the beauty it did was disappearing. Most of the flowers were dead and some wild plants were breaking through the marbled floors leading to where Persephone and Hades used to lead. 

      - What happened? - James turned to look at the goddess of sorcery, hoping she was playing a trick on him.

     - The Groves are dying. - Hecate pointed at the brown coloured plants. - Is this your doing?

     - Well, yes Hecate. I decided to destroy the only surviving thing from Persephone that gives Demeter some solace.

     - I know you’re joking but it sounds like something you’d do.

     - Call Demeter and everyone else who’s a god of plants. Anthousai, Chloris even Gaia if necessary. This has to be fixed. - James turned on his back not wanting to deal with that right now. Demeter didn’t personally hate him, he hadn’t kidnapped his daughter. However, she thoroughly missed his daughter and has such would visit her Groves every once in a while and gave him the job of protecting Persephone’s jewels. If he destroyed any of those, he’d have to hide forever from the goddess or probably would be turned into a plant. He returned to his office, picking a few books and dumping them on his desk, trying to find a way to figure out what had happened.

The Groves had been tended to by Persephone in the past, with some of Hades’ books even describing it as her regular past time and where the throne room once sat, however, after their disappearance from the universe and James taking the throne, it became tended by the underworld nymphs, the Lampades, which followed Hecate in her night-time reveals and hauntings. He knew them to be extremely loyal to Hecate, more to her than to him, he also knew Hecate to pay her respects to the long gone goddess of spring so that meant the Lampades wouldn’t stop caring for the Groves. 

He spent most of the days going through the books and those letters which Hades used to write to Demeter about his daughter but nothing spoke of any issues with the Groves. 

    - Hades. - he raised his head from the books to see Demeter at the door. Demeter was always one of James’ personal favourite goddesses, mostly due to her demeanour. She was a tall woman, always with sun kissed skin, dressed in green soft fabric dresses covered by ivy plants which contrasted with her always perfectly groomed red hair which always had a crown of wheat placed upon it. Hecate used to say that along with Persephone, Demeter was one of the biggest oponnents to Aphrodite’s beauty. However, with the loss of the daughter and the continuing, ever lasting grief of her lost daughter, gods said the immortal goddess had allowed time to take its toll on her. Nevertheless, Demeter was a kind, fair and mature goddess, knowing exactly what to do and  when to do it. - Hecate has filled me on the occurrences. 

   - Any chances the Lampades might’ve forgotten to care for the Groves?

   - The Nature is dying even with care. Not sure why exactly, I can try and come a few times to tend for the nature. 

   - Any chance Persephone would’ve spoken about anything wrong with the groves in the past?

   - My daughter never really spoke with me after she was forced to leave her husband every year. 

   - I’m sure Persephone shared no hatred towards you. However, the groves are part of the Elysium, we cannot permit any death in the Elysium.

   - I’ll work with my nymphs personally and see what we can do. 

Meanwhile, Y/N hadn’t sleep throughout the day. After James had dropped her off and Anne had returned to her home she just couldn’t sleep so she spent most of the day with a bowl of strawberries by her side, cashmere blanket wrapped around herself as she read her book with the TV on for background noise. It was the weekend, she had mostly nothing to do expect checking her phone every few hours to check for any teachers’ emails, but even them didn’t text them on Saturdays.

She would have ended up her Saturday by falling asleep on her coach if it hadn’t been for Anne climbing through the window by the fire escape. Y/N titled her head up to see Anne in a satin blue dress, her regular unruly locks held behind with some star shaped pins.

  - We’re going out. - she said pushing the cashmere blanket away from her.

  - I don’t wanna go out. - Y/N groaned, cuddling against a pillow.

  - We can only go out on Fridays and Saturdays, since you spent Friday with tall, dark, and handsome, you owe me this.

  - Fine. - she got up from her coach, walking to her room to grab something deemed for going out. She ended up with open toe dark boots, high waisted jeans and a white blouse whose lower fabric she wrapped around her waist.

Anne always went to the same bar. The same old beat up bar that Y/N was 100% sure was more of a spot for drug vending, weird rituals and gang meetings than a bar, however Anne was sure that was the best place to be. The two girls walked into the bar, a weird, unknown tune playing in the background. There weren’t too many people inside, only 5 maximum. However, Y/N’s eyes immediately set on a man sat by the bar. James. She could recognise him anywhere.

   - Anne, I think that’s James. - she casually whispered to her friend, who very unceremoniously turned to check. - Be more discreet will you?

   - You gotta go there. 

   - No, I don’t wanna bother him. He’s alone here by a reason.

   - Now, you listen to me, Y/N. - she unbuttoned two of her friend’s blouse. - You go over there and you ask him for his phone number and you’ll only return once you have his contact name on your phone. 

   - Stop it. - she slapped her hand off but her friend only pointed in his direction: Y/N mumbled a few curses under her breathe, trying to button up the blouse in a manner which wasn’t so bed inviting. As she was about to tap him on the shoulder, he noticed her first.

    - Y/N, I didn’t fancy you one to enjoy these parts. - he spoke in his raspy voice tone. He sounded tired and Y/N wondered if like her he couldn’t sleep. 

   - It’s Anne’s favourite place in town. - Y/N took a place next to him in one of the worn out high chairs. She noticed the fancy cup containing green liquid he was holding. - What are you drinking?

   - Absinthe. 

   - Doesn’t absinthe cause hallucinations? - she furrowed her brow, still mildly interested in how green the beverage was. 

   - Wish it did. - he gestured to the bartender who brought another fancy glass and a nice silver spoon. She watched him prepare something before sliding it over to her. - Give it a try. 

   - Will I hallucinate?

   - Promise you won’t. - he lifted his own glass, cheering it up to her. Y/N downed a bit of the drink, finding it sickeningly sweet, almost like licorish iced tea. Something she didn’t know what to feel about. - I see you don’t like it.

   - It’s too sweet.

   - Sweet people normally don’t like sweet things. - he almost mumbled it under his breathe, but Y/N could hear it which made a heat cripple over her cheeks. 

   - You know, we normally have quite a few outings in my friend group. If you’d gave me your number, I could tell you when. - Y/N didn’t know exactly how to ask him for his phone number. She didn’t want to sound desperate, or too forward.

   - I’m afraid I don’t have one of those, sweetness. - she gave him a nervous smile trying not to show how the small rejection. - However, if you give me yours I can try to get in touch.

   - How would you get in touch without a phone?

   - I could get one or could use a pay phone.

   - That’s old school, don’t you think? - she grabbed one of the small napkins, scribbling her phone number on it and sliding it to him.

   - I like old school, sweetness.

   - I should get back to my friend. - Y/N scratched the back of her neck, noticing Anne waiting for her. 

   - I’ll speak with you later, Y/N.

   - Later, Bucky.

[peraltasames]

i knew nothing of romance, but it was love at second sight

023: “Do you believe in love at first sight?” ft. mac peralta for the one and only @macperalta 💞💞💞 title from the gambler by fun. (one of the greatest love songs of the 21st century!!)

read on ao3

Amy prides herself on being a textbook “good parent” about ninety-nine percent of the time. She buys the organic foods and limits TV time and stimulates her son’s brain with classic literature and math problems whenever she gets the chance.

She usually puts her foot down and has no issue with being the stricter parent when necessary, but there are certain things that she simply can’t say no to.

Despite every parenting book discouraging it, even now that Mac’s approaching his fifth birthday Amy can’t resist allowing the occasional sleepover in their bed. Her son’s big brown eyes looking up at her as he stands in their doorway in his pajamas and begs to sleep in their bed is one of her greatest weaknesses.

“I don’t know,” Amy says, glancing over at Jake and pretending to truly ponder the decision. “It’s up to your dad.”

Of course, they both know that’s as good as saying yes - Jake is equally, if not more, vulnerable to Mac’s puppy-dog stare.

“Okay, but you have to be quiet so we don’t wake up Zoey.”

Mac grins triumphantly and leaps into the bed between Jake and Amy, immediately snuggling into Amy’s side as she sets her crossword down on the nightstand.

“Ms. Harris told us she’s getting married today,” Mac informs them.

“That’s good news, did she say when?”

“Summer.”

Amy runs her hand through the curls that are so distinctly Jake’s, equally soft and unruly and almost the exact same shade of brown. He’s also just as fond of the feeling of her combing her fingers through his hair as Jake is, often asking for “Mommy’s magic head scratches” from the moment he began to string full sentences together.

Mac lets out a little sigh of contentment, and she thinks he’s beginning to fall asleep when he speaks again, words muffled against her t-shirt.

“Mommy, do you believe in love at first sight?”

Her rhythmic strokes pause for a moment as she studies her son’s face, purely inquisitive and brimmed with curiosity.

“That’s a tough question, sweetheart.”

“Why do you ask, bud?” Jake asks, setting his phone down as his interest in Mac’s unusual question is also piqued.

“Ms. Harris said she loved Mr. Kim at first sight,” Mac explains. “He’s the new teacher at our school this year. He brings our class cookies sometimes.”

He turns to Jake, evidently hoping for a more concrete answer than he got from Amy about the origins of love and the hypothetical possibility of it happening instantly.

“Did you love Mommy at first sight?” he asks, wide-eyed and sincere.

Jake meets her eyes and they both burst out laughing involuntarily. Their early years of partnership were far from romantic, though there was that undercurrent of something - attraction, understanding, maybe a little bit of curiosity - that was there from day one.

“Not exactly, kiddo,” Jake chuckles, opening his arms as Mac climbs into his lap and lays against him. He’s been growing up faster than either of them were prepared for, and much of their time before bed is now devoted to their two year-old daughter, so moments like these when he’s sleepy and still wants to snuggle are cherished.

“I didn’t know I loved Mommy until a few years after I met her. We were just friends before that. We actually didn’t get along a lot of the time.”

“Like Mario and Bowser?”

Amy rolls her eyes - she blames Jake playing Mario Party right next to her every single day of her pregnancy for their son’s interest in the game.

Jake shrugs. “Uh, sure. But Mommy’s Bowser, cause Mario always wins and I won our bet to see who could arrest more bad guys. And then Mommy had to go on a date with me and after that she totally liked me.”

Amy cuts in, “That’s not exactly true-“

“The point is, it took me a little bit longer than Ms. Harris, but once I realized I loved Mommy I knew I would never love anybody else that much for the rest of my whole life,” Jake smiles, pulling his arm from Mac’s grasp gently to rest a hand on Amy’s knee. “Except you and Zoey, of course.”

Amy beams at her husband, deciding immediately that she and Jake’s love story is by far her new favourite for bedtime. It might even bump Harry Potter out of its reigning first-place spot.

“Do you think Ms. Harris will invite me to her wedding?”

“I don’t think so, honey, but remember we get to go to Auntie Rosa’s wedding in a couple of months,” Amy reminds him. “And we get to go to a pretty lake upstate and stay in a fancy hotel.”

Mac nods, seemingly satisfied with this answer and the prospect of a fun vacation. He shifts back into the space between them, climbing under the covers.

“Goodnight, baby,” Amy whispers, pressing a kiss to Mac’s forehead before following suit and laying back against the soft pillows. “I love you so so much.”

“Love you, kiddo,” Jake echoes, “love you, Ames.”

She reciprocates by leaning over Mac to cup Jake’s cheek and kiss him softly, her thumb grazing his five o’clock shadow.

Maybe she didn’t fall in love with Jake the first time she saw him, but she sure as hell loves him a little bit more every time she pulls away from a kiss and sees that glowing smile.

“Love you more, babe.”

[anonymous0writer]

The Third Rule II Kiara Carrera

Summary: Kiara is finding it hard to fit in at the Kook Acdemy, but quickly finds solace in the beautiful Sarah Cameron. She finds more than just solace, but when a certain member of the Cameron tribe find out, it scares Kiara away from the people she loves most. Which leads to the third rule of the Pogues pact that begin used.

Author: @anonymous0writer

Word Count: 4,629 (I know, I’m sorry but I’m not sure how I feel about this?? This is probably the longest fic I’ve ever done)

Pairing: Kiara x Sarah, Kiara x Pogues, 

Request: A platonic pogue imagine where kie and rafe have a history. lots of people think they had a past and rafe has a soft spot for her but i think he did something to her/hurt her because of how mad jj was when he called her hot. so i was wondering if u could write an imagine where something bad happens between them during her kook year and then when kie returns to the pogues they find out what happened which sparks the tension between the pogues x rafe?

A/N: I’m sorry it’s 2am and I just finished it and I really want my anon to read this on their trip!! And I’m sorry anon, I just realized my fic isn’t totally based off your request, but I really hope you like it because I’m kinda of proud of it?! Also, Rafe is homophobic towards Kie but I swear it’s only once. Also this blog and myself fully support anyone and would never stand for homophobia. If you do, please get off my blog.

Warnings: Typos probably. Cursing? A homophobic Rafe (we do not agree) and I think that’s it.

Rule Number One: No Pogue on Pogue macking.

Rule Number Two: Never leave a Pogue behind.

Rule Number Three: Pogues= Family. Families love each other no matter what.

Kiara Carrera was a lot of things. Her friends, the group of ragtag boys that somehow roped the girl into their little family, would call her fun. Plain and simple, she fit the word. Fun to be around, fun to hang out with and to cause trouble with. She would weedle free food from her dad and feed them, clean up after them and make sure they kept out of serious trouble. Though Kiara was quite like a mother to the three boys, she was just like them. A surfer through and through, knowing the flick of the waves and the adjustments she needed to make with her board to master them. She also loved the music the boys cared for, and was often called on to DJ their car trips. But most importantly, she would keep up with them.

Kiara matched their energy, and was possibly the only person on the island that could handle them, and all at the same time. She was good with Pope when he talked about his dream job, nodding and keeping pace with the brainiac and able to string together a somewhat intelligent sentence or question to fire back. Kiara was able to keep up with JJ, with his ideas that spun wildly out of control, or the days with his dad. She wasn’t bothered or flustered by his never ending flirts, knowing it was just JJ begin JJ. And she knew John B. Kie could figure out his moods and help him out of the dark places he went to when his father didn’t come back, and she matched his lust for adventure.

To her classmates at the Kook Academy, she was different. Too Pogue to fit in with the pristine halls and designer bags and expensive laptops and gadgets. Sure, Kiara had the money, but that didn’t make her a Kook. Not when all her time was spent on the Cut with the dirty lowlifes nicknamed Pogues. And to Kiara, the money was her parents. If she was asked, she was a Pogue with parents that got money. Which was in part true, her father originally from the south side of the island, which might have sparked Kie’s distinct loyalty to the certain side.

To other Pogues, the other throwaway fish and lowlifes, Kiara Carrera was sun. Bright and cheery, she lit up everything around her. Her straight, easy going smile was infectious, making everyone, no matter what mood give a smile back. She was warm and kind, caring and thoughtful when the Pogues were thought of as rough kids from the wrong side. And her outfits reflected her personality, bright with swirling patterns and stark colors. Her outfits were always envied and her unruly curls were often admired. Kiara was beauty and light in one and often became fast friends with any person who set their feet on Kildare’s sand.

But one thing Kiara Carrera wasn’t, was easy. And no one knew that better than the notorious Rafe Cameron. The Kook was drawn to the newcomer for some reason no one but the universe knew. Not even the boy knew his reasons for attraction to the pogue. It left him utterly confused when he saw the girl in the halls of his gilded house, smiling like there wasn’t a care in the world. But no matter his confusion, his eyes were glued to the girl as she giggled and followed his sister, and his breath left his lungs when she passed him, a soft smile gracing her features as her smell washed over him. The strange girl smelled like coconuts and the sea, which was all the more intoxicating.

Though Kiara Carrera wasn’t easy to win over with his cerulean eyes and his devilish smirk, he didn’t give up. He wanted the challenge of having to work a little harder for a girl. And Rafe Cameron wasn’t one to be refused, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

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Kie’s first year at the Kook Academy hadn’t been the picturesque landscape of manicured lawns, pretty and popular students and good grades. While the experience wasn’t the best, it wasn’t the worst and Kie knew that. She also knew that the ‘Kook Academy’ was much better than Kildare County High School and her fussing mother made sure she would never forget it. But as the weeks progressed and Kiara felt increasingly lonely at the school, the girl was finding it hard to appreciate the school.

For one, she was missing her boys terribly. Missed when JJ cracked a joke in the back of the class, his comment made the whole room erupt into a fit of laughter as the aggravated teacher tried desperately to calm the students. She missed the way John B.’s smiles eased her worrying about a test or the way he’d fling notes on her desk as Mrs. Higgin’s droned on. Kiara also missed the way Pope would ramble with his answers, eventually getting too flustered and putting his hand down. She missed the way he’d leave books in her locker, the pages littered with little notes and comments about the passages. But perhaps most of all, Kiara missed the way she was with them. The boys were her true home, not even the comfort of her pillows made her feel as safe and loved as she did when she was hanging out with the three. At lunch, they’d rush out of class, meeting at Kiara’s locker as she took out her lunch, handing JJ her apple, and debating with John B. at which item of her lunch he’d steal today. Pope would grab his own lunch as they bickered and the four made their way to the quad, settling in the grass with their bags. JJ leaned back, a fresh blunt plucked from the waistband of his cargo shorts. Pope took out his books as he tried to take notes but failed miserably as he countered John B.’s B.S and returned conversations. It was impossible for the boy to focus around his friends. Kiara would crack a joke and spread out her healthy alternatives to bad foods and snacked quietly on them while her phone belted out Marley into the grass.

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She missed the days JJ wouldn’t be seen in class and would interrupt her classes by poking his head in and saying, “Hey, Kie! Emergency meeting.” And with that, the two slipped away to meet with the other half of their group. The four would move off campus to an abandoned parking lot and smoke and drink their worries away.

But no matter how much Kiara missed her boys, they weren’t going to show up. She was stuck, lost in the gilded halls and drowning in a sea of nasty boys and fake girls. Kiara was desperate to escape but couldn’t find a way to get out. Kiara was ready to give up. On the school, the people and, quite frankly on life.

That is, until she met the famous Sarah Cameron. The blonde practically strode through the halls, her loaded boyfriend and the illustrious Scarlet by her side. Her dazzling smile and pretty brown eyes landed on Kiara. And as soon as Kiara returned the pleasantries, the two became fast friends.

And soon enough, Kiara was invited to the massive Cameron residence. Kiara has already gotten the tour of the property and was following her best friend when she ran into Rafe Cameron. The eldest of Ward Cameron and the famous Kook around the island, known for his suspicious resources when it comes to drugs. Kiara knew the rumors, every one did. But she still smiled and walked right on by, giggling as Sarah held her hand and shut her door.

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Since their unofficial first meeting, Rafe had been persistent. Flirting shamelessly with the girl constantly in his house and ignoring Sarah’s grumbles and mocks. Kiara has refused his advances and shook her head as a little laugh escaped her throat when Rafe asked her out. She had to give it to him, he didn’t give up.

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“Why don’t you want to go out with me?” Rafe asked one day, as the Cameron siblings and Kiara lounged on the deck of the Druthers. Rafe towered over Kiara’s lounge seat, casting a shadow over the girl.

“Rafe, I’m just not into you.”

“Why? Am I just,” He paused, still unwavering from where he stood- much to Kiara’s dislike. “not your type?”

The statement made the girl glance up, the sunglasses perched on her nose sliding down as she looked up at the boy. “I don’t dig blondes, Rafe.”

The elder boy scoffed, but left the conversation as Sarah made her way over, two hard pink lemonades in hand.

“Get lost, loser.” She huffed and Rafe nodded and left. He missed the way his little sister cuddled up against the Pogues side and quietly asked, “You still dig me, right?” The boy also missed Kiara’s immediate reply as she laughed. “Of course I do.” So the Kook walked away, blissfully unaware of what was really unfolding. Kie’s words still rung in his head. But for some reason, he didn’t believe that the only reason the curly haired girl kept turning him down was just because of his hair color.

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The next time Rafe asked, he got his real answer. His sister and Kie were getting ready for Midsummer's in the room a couple doors down, their laughter floating through the halls. Rafe listened to the muffled voices of his tongue sister and the girl he’d been strangely pining over for half the school year. They were laughing and Kie’s signature music floated down the hall and into Rafe’s bedroom. Kiara was going as Sarah’s date because she had cheated on her boyfriend again. So the girls decided to couple up.

Sarah leaned forward, the brush coated with soft gold painting swiftly over Kiara’s eyelids. Sarah leaned back and smiled, satisfied with her handiwork. Kie laughed and shoved Sarah’s hip lightly to see herself in the mirror. Sarah grinned and moved so she could continue curling her friend's hair, her hips swaying with the music. Kiara laughed at Sarah’s antics, admiring her in the mirror.

“Beach waves,” Sarah mused, deciding what to do with the front parts of Kie’s hair. “It’d frame your face.” Sarah leaned down, her breath fanning Kie’s ear as the blonde put her hands on Kie’s shoulders. “You’ll look so pretty, baby.”

Kiara beamed at Sarah’s comment, trying to hide her blush. Sarah was a natural flirt, so the fact that she said that wasn’t a surprise, but the pet name made Kie blush. Even in their secret relationship, Sarah hadn’t far breathed a whisper of any affectionate name other than ‘Kie.’ The dark haired girl giggled at her girlfriend and shifted in her seat to crank up the music. Soon the rise and fall of Bob Marley’s voice filling the carefully decorated room. Neither of the girls heard the eldest Cameron shuffle around in his room, his footfalls heavy in the hall as he approached Sarah’s door.

“You could kiss me, you know.” Kie smirked, taunting Sarah with her brows in the mirror. They locked eyes and it was Sarah’s turn to blush, her cheeks already dusted a pink. But she complied, spinning her girlfriend in her chair and pressed a heated kiss to her lips. Kiara hummed and reached up to cup Sarah’s face, not able to hear Rafe as he pushed open the door to his sisters room, a question on his tongue.

“Hey, could you-�� He stopped dead, eyes trained on his sister and the beautiful girl he’d been trying to get, lips locked. “Holy fuck.”

The girls broke apart, eyes wide and mouths popped open in surprise.

“Rafe!” Sarah screamed, rushing forward to push her brother out of her room, hands shoving at his back and slamming- and locking- the door shut.

Rafe stood shell-shocked outside his sister's room, mouth agape. Kiara was kissing his sister. Kiara was gay.

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The three; the two Cameron siblings and the pogue that they practically adopted, didn’t talk about the incident for exactly two days until the subject came bubbling to the surface. And in typical Rafe Cameron style, it was raging and messy.

Rafe glared, eyes trained on Kiara as she giggled at something Scarlet said as they leaned against their lockers. Rafe hadn’t seen Kiara since the incident, ignoring her at Midsummer’s and never coming out of his room the rest of the weekend, but now, Monday morning, he was beyond furious and disgusted. Not only did the girl shoot him down so many times, she lied. Of course he wants her type, he wasn’t even the gender she was attracted to. A shiver ran down the boy's spine as he thought about the curly haired beauty liking- kissing- his sister. He hated it.

“Kiara,” He barked, hand gripping her just above the elbow rather harshly, hard enough to bruise. “We need to talk,” He hissed in her ear as he hauled her away from Scarlet and into an empty classroom.

“Rafe!” Kiara huffed, stumbling into the classroom, free of his death grip. She stared at the boy, wondering briefly if he was high. Rafe Cameron was addicted to the powder he snorted at parties, so it wouldn’t surprise Kiara if his eyes were red and he seemed even more violent than usual. But his eyes were normal, and he seemed fine.. just furious. “What the hell are you on?”

“You're gay.” Rafe spit like it was the foulest word on the planet. Kiara’s eyes went wide. She never said the words out loud, and quite frankly, it scared her a little. With Sarah she didn’t have to hide who she was. But with everyone else, her parents- even the Pogues- she had to hide. But with Sarah it was fun, easy. Sarah got it and Kiara couldn’t think of a better person she wanted to be with.

Kiara fumbled with her words, the infinite possible combinations of words and sentences getting clogged in her throat, so she just stood there, gaping at her girlfriend’s brother as he seethed. Rafe glared, brows slanted over his darkened blue eyes. His eyes reminded Kiara of the waters when a hurricane ripped through them, dangerous and fury born.

“You're disgusting. You turned my sister into one!” He spat, making Kie’s heart clench. This was her nightmare. People finding out and their face recoiling in disgust when they heard the words, “I’m gay.” And maybe that was the reason Kiara never uttered them, not even to herself, perhaps fearful her own face would do the same in the mirror.

But no matter Kiara’s inability to defend herself, she defended the only girl who accepted her as her. Even though her gut pinched at the thought that Rafe looked at different sexual orientations as a ‘disease’ which was nowhere near true, it still hurt nonetheless. “It’s not a bad thing, Rafe. And Sarah’s bi!”

Rafe grimaced, and by the way his face warped, Kiara could tell he didn’t have a clue of what it meant. Kiara swallowed, the sudden fear of Rafe’s knowledge crowding her thoughts. What if he told the rest of the student body? What if he told her parents? What if he told the Pogues? The last thought sent a shiver down her spine. Even though she wasn’t officially out, she didn’t care if the student body found out. Not really. Her fears were about her parents, and if they’d react as badly as Rafe had or worse. But the Pogues? If they acted even a bit like Rafe had, her heart would break and Kiara would lose them. And that thought scares her the most.

So she leaves Rafe, ripping out of the classroom to race toward the bathroom, knowing her tears will spill soon. She cries over the bathroom sink, hands gripping the counter as she sobs. The first period bell rings, but the girl doesn’t trust herself enough to clean up and head to class. Instead she sniffles and glances up at the mirror. By now, her thoughts have turned into horrendous scenarios of the Pogues freaking out, convincing her that the boys aren’t going to accept her. So as she makes eye contact with herself in the mirror, Kiara takes a deep breath; if I leave first, it’ll hurt less.

————————

Kiara was wrong. She couldn’t tell, but it hurt probably even more than if the Pogues left her. She hopes, keeping the flame small, that the three troublemakers will come knocking on her door, asking why she ignored and blew them off for the whole week. But they’ve never set a foot inside her house, and now will not be the time they start. So she locks herself in her room, red eyes and Disney movies on an endless loop to try and block out the pain of letting go of not just the Pogues, but Sarah too.

When Sarah found Kie crying in the bathroom in the middle of the passing period, Kiara couldn’t find the words to tell her that her brother was a homophobic piece of shit that scared the living shit out of her. So she shook her head, passed it off as a mean joke someone said and brushed past her, trying to keep her shaking hands under control as she made her way to class.

But that was a week ago, and Kie’s phone had been blowing up with texts and missed calls on Monday, but slowly tapered off by the time Saturday rolled around. Kiara secretly hoped Sarah would just barge into her room, demanding to know what was wrong and would kiss away her worries, but Sarah wasn’t showing up and the number of missed calls from the blonde had started to dwindle.

But even if Sarah wasn’t a knight in shining armor, someone was.

————————

Kiara glanced up, brows furrowing over her dark eyes as the knock on her door sounded again. Her mom had already come by to try and coax her out of her room for lunch, so it couldn’t be her, the older woman quickly finding it best not to bombard her daughter.

“Kie?”

She would recognize that voice from anywhere. Pope. He’d come to save her, and Kiara’s heart soared at the thought. She clumsily made her way off her bed, knocking off some tissues in the process, but made her way to the door, cracking it open to reveal not only Pope, but all three boys. Kiara’s eyes widened as she took in the boys- her boys. She choked on a sob as she widen the crack of the door, letting the boys shuffle into her spacious room.

“Got a nice place here, Kie.” JJ commented, and Kie was thankful for JJ’s jokes even as her heart throbbed at the sound of his voice.

She really did miss them, and she knew seeing her for the first time in a week like this- dressed in dark blue and white checkered sweats and a white crop top with a wave of messy hair to top it off- wasn’t the best thing. All three of them turned to look at her, and Kiara was hit with the sudden need to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” She croaked.

Popes dark eyes widened at her exclamation, the first real thing she said to them in almost a week. John B. started, unsure of what to say, but JJ reached out, hands wrapping tightly around his best friend.

“Don’t say that ok? You have nothing to be sorry for.” The blonde murmured, a soft kiss pressed to her hair as he held her. Kiara buried her face in his chest, too overcome with emotion to speak so she cried softly. John B moved quickly to add to the hug and soon, all four of them were in a big group hug.

They pulled back, and Pope slipped his hand in Kie’s to reassure her that he was there as John B. spoke to his movements.

“Kie, we’re always here for you. You know that, right?”

The girl nodded, still unable to meet their gaze. But she sniffled, and nodded, hairs falling into her face as they came loose from her behind her ears. They stood in silence, not knowing where to start with all of this. So Kiara said the thing that started it all.

“I’m gay.”

The words hung in the air untouched before all three spoke at once.

A soft, “Kie, that’s perfectly fine.” came from Pope.

JJ nodded, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he murmured, “That makes so much sense.”

“We support you no matter what.” John B. confirmed with a half smile.

Kie stopped, the responses unlike anything they said in the wicked scenarios in her head. Her mouth popped open into a surprised ‘o’. But her face split into a sad smile as she made eye contact with her friends. At the realization that they supported her and loved her for it, a happy sob bubbles up from her throat. Kie’s dark eyes lit up as she threw her arms around the rest of her heart. They hugged her back, John B’s arm thrown around her shoulders as Pope squeezed her hand and JJ hugged her waist.

“I love you guys,” she sniffled, pulling back with the first genuine smile of that week. They grinned back at her.

“We love ya too, Sunshine.” JJ’s familiar dimpled smile warmed her heart as his hand came up to ruffle her hair affectionately. She missed his smiles and his nickname for her. He called her that since the first hour they met, and it stuck ever since. Kie smiled at the surfer and quietly thanked him.

“Did you really think we were gonna cut you out?” John B asked, his honey colored orbs gazing lovingly down at her. Kie leaned into his chest, his arms tugging her close. “You know we could never do that, bubs.” He soothed, restating his chin on top of her wild curls.

Kiara let her eyes wander to the boy yet to speak. Pope stood there, unmoving as Kie smiled at him until he jumped with a realization. “Oh!” He exclaimed and immediately started patting himself down in search of something. Within the confines of his cargo shorts, Pope pulled a tiny book with a worn cover but displayed it with pride, extending it to his friend. “Here, for you.” When Kie sent him a questioning look as she took it, Pope rambled on. “A recent poem book I read. And I.. well I pretended to be JJ when I wrote notes in it.”

Kie’s laugh was sudden and stark, but made Pope grin at her reaction and the other two boys smile at the happy sound. In the beginning, when Pope first gave Kiara a book he read and thought he’d enjoy and she returned it with lightly written notes about passages on it, Pope immediately started the tradition of giving Kiara a new book with his thoughts every month. And as Kie would go through the chapters she’d write her own thoughts and then discuss them with the boy. But once Kie placed the book down in front of him as they hung out at the Chateau, brows furrowed in confusion. “What is this?” She asked, pointing to the notes Pope made in the top corner. Confused as to why she was asking, Pope leaned forward and reread the note, laughing. “Oh, well, I had a thought about JJ reading the book and figured to do the whole book like JJ wrote it.” So it then became an inside joke between the two.

Kie flips the book in her hands, fingertips tracing the outlines of the small cover. She particularly loves the months where Pope gives her poetry books because partly, he gives her a new collection on them each week because she goes through them fast and secondly, because poems are her favorite. She admires the slightly yellow pages and the soft sketch of Pope’s handwriting.

“Thanks Pope. I love it,”

She closes her eyes and feels at rest- almost. She finally got her boys back. Kiara finally got home. Back in the arms of the three boys who hold her heart equally. So she agrees when John B. gestures to the screen displaying the laziest Disney movie she watched- Beauty and the Beast- and suggests a movie marathon. Except JJ somehow got a hold of the remote as they climbed onto her bed and settled in. The surfer quickly changed the theme from Disney Princess to Horror Night. Pope rolls his eyes and John B. cheers as Kie gasps at the choice he made. It’s ‘Silence of the Lambs’, old but still a classic that’s not too scary for Kie and one of her favorites. The four friends curled up and soon they were too invested in the movie to remember why they were even here in the first place. Kie smiled and admired her friends, grinning as JJ caught her eye and winked. She was back home.

But there was one thing left unsolved: Sarah Cameron.

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The Cameron residence never seemed so daunting as it did right now, looming above Kiara in its glimmering windows and architectural beauty. Kiara swallowed, knowing no one but the girl she loved was home but still getting anxious when she thought about the boy who lived under this roof.

The doorbell rang twice before the grand doors cracked up as Sarah answered it. Sarah opened the door with a bounce in her step but stopped as she lay eyes on who rang her doorbell. Her throat went dry and her mouth fell open. Kiara admired her girlfriend- unsure of the title they still had- who was dressed in white shorts and a pale blue tank top of Kie’s that had three small hearts in the middle. She was gorgeous.

“Kie?”

“Hi,” Kiara swallowed unsure of how to proceed. “We need to talk.”

Sarah nodded, wordlessly opening the door wider to allow entry to the dark haired girl of her dreams. Sarah had been lost without her girlfriend. Kiara seemed to drop off the face of the earth after Sarah found her in the bathroom. The blonde called countless times, but each ‘Hi! This is Kiara! You know what to do!’ broke her heart a little more. Sarah couldn’t tell you how many times she showed up outside of the Carrera house, hand poised to knock only to have her doubts make her turn back. Sarah was deathly afraid she’d done something to Kiara unknowingly, but after her brother spat in her face about her preference of lovers, she understood exactly what happened. Which is why when Kie stepped into her foyer, she blurted,

“I’m so sorry about my brother,”

Kiara was taken aback by the outburst, but glanced down at her feet quickly before nodding and meeting Sarah’s sadden gaze.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you right away, I just-“ Kiara struggled with the words, shrugging slightly. “I was scared and was so stupid to push you away.”

Sarah took a tentative step forward, aching to touch the breathtaking girl before her. She smiled softly. “I needed you and you pushed me away,” It was true, Sarah struggled about her sexual orientation and how and if she wanted to come out. And she needed Kie there, but the girl had refused to answer. “But I need to know you won’t do that again if I’m going to let you back in.”

Both girls knew that Sarah was gonna accept her back with open arms either way but Kiara nodded, stepping so they were toe to toe.

“I promise I won’t ever do that again.” She whispered, voice a little broken as she pressed her forehead against the blondes.

And with that, Sarah surged forward, lips attaching to a Kie’s in a loving apology from both sides. And within the kiss, Kie found herself truly at peace.

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Tag list

All: @jayjaymaebank​ @rudys-pankow​ @maaybanks​ @everydayimfangirling​ @outrbank​ @thelocalpogue​ @lyricalimerence​ @ahhireallydontknow​ @never-ever-too-many-fandoms​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @insanitysparkles @mcarignan​ @copper-boom​ @haharudy​ @x-lulu​ @pit-zuh​ @socialwriter​ @alwaysasadaesthetic​ @jjmaybanqs​ @magnuolia @bellaguarneri​ @diverdcwn​ @diverrdown​ @drewswannabegirl​ @drew-starkey​ @mahleeyuh​ @divcrdown @youfookendonut​ @dpaccione​ @starkeymarkey​ @outerbanksbro​ @jjs-housekeeping​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @traumaflavouredjuulpod @ad-infinitums​

Kiara, Rafe, Sarah & Pogues: @talksoprettyjjx​ @manicmee​ @notaninstagrammodel​ @oxmaddy​ @obx-direction-sos​ @newhopenessie​ @alternativehp​ @obxmxybxnk​ @sarapage89 @emsma11 @fangirlvoice​ @danicarosaline​ @timmyswrld​ @gmwlover100​ @bxbyyyjocelyn​ @teamnick​ @jjmbanks​ @thesurfingsnail @lulubutton34​ @obxsummer​ @katiaw2 @yeehaw87​ @poguecollins​ @jessica-1120 @yxseminx​

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 001

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together. 

A/N: Hey!!! I'm definitely not giving up on LFTM, I've had this story whirling around my brain and it's been pulling at me for a while. Hoping I can slow down, care for myself, and juggle both fics at my own pace. Thank you guys for reading and for being so supportive. I hope everyone who enjoyed WTL also enjoys this fic, it's a totally different direction. I'm excited to share it! I'll tag warning in each chp like I always too. TW: Light bullying, hints at an inappropriate relationship between a teacher/student, and teenage jerks.

Chapter 1: Fast Times

   A blaring bell trilled. Lunch time. So close and yet so far. Scrambling high schoolers like zoo animals clamored into the cafeteria. Knocking shoulders and bouncing around. No one really cared about knowledge today, the last day of school before winter break began. 

   1984. Coming to a close.

   “Evie!” A hand rose to wave. One pink scrunchie around the elegant wrist. Heather Holloway. Cute as a button smiling there. Hands pulled headphones down to acknowledge her. Evangeline Fenny. Best friends since the sandbox and now seniors. “This stupid day is dragging.”

   “It’s killing me.” Evie whined to herself, settling her beat up lunchbox on the table. Red and blue pattern, scribbled all over with song lyrics in black marker. “Mrs. Stockard fell asleep at her desk, I wanted to die.”

   “She snores so loudly.” Heather sparkled when she laughed, sweeping her hair back into a high ponytail with her scrunchie. Evie held a mirror up for her to see out of habit. “Thanks.” It was particularly louder than usual. Teens pregaming the parties to come over the two week vacation.

   “Going skiing with the folks this year?”

   “No, they’re going up to the cabin and I’m staying home after Christmas.” Heather unpacked her lunch, carefully organizing it. Evie pulled a regular PB and J out, amused.

   “Sushi?”

   “My mom’s going through a phase.” Heather poured herself a bit of soy sauce and plucked up chopsticks.

   “Your rich is showing, Heath.” Evie giggled when a foot kicked at her under the table.

   “Trade you a piece for half the pear.”

   “Deal.” They switched. Evie tucked some unruly dark curls aside, sitting back.

   “So...there is a party tonight. Loch Nora. Bunch of schools.”

   “Which ones?” Evie’s brow rose.

   “Ridgemont will probably crash, but who cares. It’s winter break, we’ll go and have some fun then crash at my place. Eat chips, make fun of them, and pass out like we always do.” Heather bounced a little. “C’mon, Evie. I’ll pick you up and we can walk from my house.”

   “I’ll think about it.” That meant yes to Heather. She grinned, reaching across to pat her friend’s arm playfully.

   “It’ll be fun.”

   Evie just whined and crunched on her pear, brows scrunching. Parties weren’t the same since the incident. But, she picked the popular, social butterfly for her closest friend. 

   The two couldn’t have been any more different.

   Heather Holloway. Rich girl from Loch Nora befriending Evangeline Fenny, a Cherry Lane girl, in preschool. They switched beaded hair ties and the rest was history. Bonded over music and fashion. Heather was classically stunning as if she jumped off a magazine. 

   Students used to make snide comments. That Heather kept Evie around because she made her look prettier. Sweet Heather shut that down. Loudly. Whenever the subject came up. Evie Fenny was a bigger girl. Plush. Fat. It wasn’t a dirty word. She was a strange and pretty teen who carried herself too high to be bothered with comments.

   Water off a duck’s back was the saying.

   Used to be she hid herself under big sweaters, tunics, and flared jeans. But, that was before the incident. Afterward, she came to school with a new haircut. Louder makeup. Even louder, fitted clothing. Flaunted the hourglass and caught eyes on her hips swaying. Sat next to Heather at lunch as if nothing had changed. Red glossed lips only smiled and the student body took to her. Those who stayed angry burned alone.

   Thick skin, no pun intended.

   “If that asshole Tannen shows up, I’m dipping.” Evie decided with one breath. 

   “I’d say that I’ll protect you, but you made your point last year.” 

   Ah, the incident.

   “I’m never going to live that down.”

   “It was legendary.” Heather beamed, crushing her fist into her opposite palm. “Bam. Prick went down. My friend is Wonder Woman. Super Bitch.”

   Evie broke to laugh, eyes rolling.

   “Truthfully, I don’t recall it all.”

   That was a lie, she remembered every second of it. Sometimes her knuckles warmed at the thought.

   “I just...didn’t think you had moves like that. Your mom is basically Dolly Parton. You don’t even like violence. You squirm during horror flicks. You love your cat, your guitar, and all plant life...and you beat the hell out of Ridgemont’s golden boy asshole quarterback.”

   It did earn Evie some Hawkins’ fame. Ridgemont was their main rival. The Bulldogs. Football players found a soft spot for the teen.

   “Don’t tell my mom she’s Dolly Parton, that’ll go straight to her head.” Evie joked, popping her water bottle open to drink. Heather’s big eyes lifted behind her.

   A flood of cologne wafted before two fingers tugged a curl. Little harder than they should have. Water choked to spill onto Evie’s chest.

   “Whoops, you got all wet, Fenny.” A tongue clicked. Billy Hargrove slid around the table. All his glory. Heather plucked up a napkin to offer it.

   “Watch it, Hargrove.” She huffed down at herself. The yellow tee tucked into her jeans was soaked through.

   “Girls can’t help it around me, I guess.” He had one hand in his pockets and another cradling his silver lighter. Flicking it open and closed. Eyes narrowed. “Polka dots, huh. I had you figured for florals.”

   “You’re an asshole.” She covered her damp shirt and bra with her striped cardigan. Thick fall colors warmed her skin. Noted the fact that he'd thought about it.

   “Whatever you say, Ivy.” 

   Billy knew her name. They were neighbors. Unfortunately. Right down to sharing the same space between their bedroom windows. She’d had dinner at their house. Susan Hargrove was new and eager to make some friends and Ms. Fenny was eager to be friends with everyone. Perfect match.

   Evie glared up at him. Fucking Adonis.

   “Heather, you going tonight?” He ignored his neighbor and leaned over with one palm on the table, back to Evie as he sat down to flash that darling smile.

   “Maybe.” Heather gestured with her chopsticks.

   “I can work with maybe.” He acted like the girl behind him wasn’t there. Frankly, Evie was used to being invisible. It was better than being bullied. Most days. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

   “Maybe you apologize to my friend and say her name right.” Heather winked at him.

   “Who?” Billy stood and turned, mocked some surprise. “Oh. Evangeline. So quiet, I forgot you, chica.”

   She wasn’t sure if that was a jab at her mixed heritage or him just being a smartass. Billy rolled her name off his tongue like it was a joke. Like it wasn’t a real word. Blue eyes alight at her stony expression. Sly and alert. 

   The California transfer vibrated after leaving the basketball team before the season ended. Word was that he was persuaded to leave after some fight with Steve Harrington. Billy was a strange one too.

   Often, he seemed lax when he was alone like the world didn’t matter. Other days, he was rocking and quick on his feet. Hungry and itching for something. Anything. It was a scary look on such a pretty boy. You could never gauge where his mind was. Where it would go next.

   “Evangeline.” He sounded out again even slower. “Your mom lose a bet?”

   “It’s a poem.” She replied flatly, sitting back to cock her head at him. Billy snapped his fingers to point.

   “Sounds like the name of some chick whose man died in her arms.”

   She huffed at him, leaning in.

   “...That would be what the poem is about.”

   “Fucking depressing.” Billy tapped his chin. “I got it. I’m going to call you, Angel. I won’t forget that.”

   “You are not calling me-”

   “Trying to compromise with you, Fenny. You cast the first stone.” Billy flicked his eyes to Heather. “Bring your friend with you to the party, Heather. Some guys like angel cake.” He winked and slunk off to his band of merry assholes. This school worshiped him. Kissed the ground he walked on since he started in fall.

   “What a fucking slimeball.” Evie grumbled to herself, stuffing trash aside to ball it up. Thought about tossing it at Billy's big head. Heather gave this conflicted look as if to say, but he’s cute, right?

   “Ignore him.”

   “Bad enough his family moved in next to me.” They packed up their lunches. “God, I want a smoke so bad.”

   She didn’t keep the habit up just to save her singing voice. Her mom picked up cigarettes only after the divorce last year. Smoked out her window and hid it, but Evie knew. No judgment there. Better than other habits moms pick up after divorces.

   “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight?” Heather walked out with her after the bell rang.

   “Yeah, I’ll see you in fifth.” Evie turned to go to her locker and stuffed the lunchbox away. Grabbed a book to hurry to class. History. Three more periods left. Students fidgeted around her.

   “Hey, Evie.” Steve Harrington batted his eyes at her. Friendly enough these days after he left the popular cliche and broke up with Nancy Wheeler. Sometimes having your heart stopped on made you nicer. Not always. “You, ah, do the paper?”

   “All six pages.” Evie set it on her desk. “You?”

   “I made an attempt.” It was strange because Steve never gave her the time of day before this year. Maybe the guy was lonely. He tapped his pencil and the chatter quieted when their teacher walked in. Late as always.

   “Class, pass your papers to the front.”

   “Hopefully they don’t come back with red wine stains.” Robin mumbled behind her, one leg crossed up so she could draw on the rubber side of her sneakers. Evie caught a snort, taking the papers to pass them along. “I like the jacket.”

   “Thanks. New haircut?”

   “My own dad didn’t notice.” Robin beamed.

   “Psst, Evie.” A note flicked on her desk. Tammy Thompson. Pretty girl, kind of shy. “To Steve.”

   Evie considered herself a professional middle man for lovesick note passing. Discreetly, she gave it to Steve, head cocking. He furrowed his brow upon seeing it, but wrote back.

   Whatever the reply, it made Tammy’s shoulders fall.

   AP Biology was next. Teacher treated it like his kingdom and didn’t pose much of a challenge because he was disorganized as hell. Evie was relieved to share the class with Heather. 

   Billy, Tommy, and Carol also had it too. Hargrove bitched for a week about how the other science classes had no openings. Strange because he wasn’t an idiot. Still got his work in and maintained a B average. Probably due to his dad. Neil Hargrove seemed like a real hardass. And all of Cherry Lane had heard him and Billy arguing at some point.

   Evie might have also witnessed some more physical spats through the windows.

   She figured it was why Billy hated her. She knew something about him. Something he hid because it made him feel smaller. He caught her eyes once and barked nastily before taking off in his Camaro. A gust of smoke.

   She never brought it up. 

   Dads could be real assholes.

   “Watch the movie. Fill out the worksheet.” Their teacher was as ready for this day to be over as the students were. Lights went down. Yawns followed. Evie propped her elbow up on the high lab table she shared with Heather, doodling new lyrics between answering questions.

   A crumpled paper hit her hair. Stuck into brown curls. Heather turned back to glare at Tommy shrugging with a sleazy grin.

   He was no artist. Evie smoothed it for a wide, big lipped and breasted caricature of herself. She drew on it and scribbled a note back. Smiling sweeter when she flicked it at his chest. Carol and Billy leaned in on either side to see Tommy’s expression sour because Evie gave him nothing.

   “You got my hair all wrong.” She’d written. Fixing it for him.

   Billy snorted and turned back to defacing his textbook.

   “Bitch.” Tommy muttered to himself, tossing it away. Evie finished her sheet, dug for her compact to reapply a lip color. Caught Billy behind her. Intent on whatever vulgar drawing his mind was concocting. Blue eyes flicked like he’d been aware of her this entire time.

   The mirror snapped shut.

** ** **

   Study hall. Last period of the day. Most kids who had it were skipping out early during the hour. Slipping away one by one through the library. Evie was one of those kids. 

   “Leaving so soon, Miss Fenny?” The smooth as silk voice lowered, startled her enough to drop her notebooks and folders. 

   “Fr...Mr. Bowers.” Evie dropped before her English teacher standing so close to her. Second period. Been in Hawkins three years teaching the junior and senior classes. Fredrick Bowers. Dream of a man to all the teen girls. “Sorry.” She bit her bottom lip, eyes lifting to see him and his shadow blocking the light from touching her. 

   “No, I’m sorry, Evie. I figured you’d heard me coming.” Sky blue eyes centered on Evie there before he came to one knee. Helped her gather lose papers strewn about.    

   Mr. Bowers had a name and face all the teen girls drew little hearts around in pink gel pen.

   Evie thought she saw those same cartoon hearts bubbling up behind his back. Popping like gum. Styled toffee blond locks, trimmed mustache, and groomed side burns. A simple patterned shirt tucked into fitted slacks with the sleeves rolled up. Never a tie. Something groovy about him that stuck from the seventies. Mid thirties and hell of a smile.

   Evie tucked hair aside, displayed her blush in full view obscenely when he flashed those sparkly whites at her. Eyes crinkling.

   “I’ll warn you next time.” 

   Her heart plucked like a song when their fingers brushed. Dashing and broad. A Jane Austen character come to life. Enough to make any young girl melt. And how quickly she did.

   “Next time.” Evie gave this scoff. Pulling her notes close as they both came to their feet with hard intent eyes.

   "I wanted to give you something. A book to read over the break." He pulled it from his leather messenger bag and peered around.

   "An assignment?" Evie sparkled at him so he was lighter.

   "No, it's just because I believe you're so clever and mature. I think you'll read it with an open mind and we can talk about it like we talked about all the others. It's complicated material. I, ah, really shouldn't be giving you this book." He offered it. "But, there were quite a few I wasn't allowed to give you. After that chat we had over The Crucible. I'm just so fascinated by what you think."

   "Lolita. I know what happens in this one." Evie peered at the battered title. Rough paper between her fingers, it was clearly an old copy. She peered at his chest instead of his eyes. "We-"

   "Don't you miss talking? You know. Last year. Someone who knows what you're going through. I want all my students to be comfortable around me."

   "I am comfortable, we..." Evie glanced as someone passed far down the hallway.

   Bowers helped her after her dad left. A shoulder. A confidant. A crush that... She felt her heart close in on itself.

   "I thought you said we couldn't anymore."

   "I miss you." He whispered that. Lush and blunt. She barely heard it. Eyes snapped up.

   Someone missed her. Someone wanted to listen. Someone who saw her depth.

   His wife left him before he came to Hawkins. Evie learned a great deal about her too.

   "I won't tell, I never do." She hid it away into her bag, matched his tone. "We can...talk. Not here."

   "Good." He swallowed. "I just think you blossom under guidance and support. I always knew you were one of those girls."

   Evie blushed again. Eyes on her shoes. 

   “I wanted to say I was impressed with your paper as well. As always.” Fredrick gave her arm a pat and left his hand there. Fingers pressed into the knit fabric of her cardigan. His lip twitched. 

   “Good. That’s…I’m glad.” Evie’s eyes flickered over stormy blue ones, swaying. Lashes gave a dreamy bat. “I was thinking, ah, about you when I wrote it.”

   “Really, you should speak up in class more.” Fredrick gave her one subtle squeeze and dropped his hand. “All those funny poems you shared last year.”

   “My songs.” Evie corrected softer and he only smiled to nod.

   “Right.” An idle step backwards before he leaned over her. A great deal taller. The shadow crept over her eyes this time. “You have a Merry Christmas, dear. And speak up again in class, Evie. You know I love to hear from you.”

   A sensation like a fizzling sparkler glowed in her belly. Out her spine. Spread over skin.

   “I know.” She giggled at him, peering around. “Merry Christmas, Mr. B. We'll talk.”

   “Small town, I’m sure I’ll see you out and about.” A wink and he was gliding off. Shoulders back and chest perched high.

   “You might.” Evie swooned against her locker. Watched him go. Gasped a breath into her lungs. Swept all the clouds aside to fill her backpack with work. He made her feel so special, like no one ever could. 

   “Anyone...” She sang to herself, “who knows what love is...” Fingers plucked up a final book. Evie hummed and thought of small cartoon blue birds spinning around her head as she went into the restroom. Washed her hands and lingered to see her reflection.

   Evie was in a strange place. In and out of her skin. Torn between love and hate for her body.

   Usually, it just took a brave face. Her dad always used to tilt her chin and tell her to put on her bravest face before leaving home.

   She hoped the one she chose was convincing. 

   Her mom would always spin her favorite Bible or Dolly Parton quotes. Which helped on occasion even if she wasn’t sure which source the words came from half the time.

   A sigh. This was her flesh. She’d live in it as best she could. Dreamed herself into something better.

   Footsteps hurried down the hallway until the door shoved open. Humming cut.

   “Hargrove!” She gasped, dropping her messenger bag. “Billy, you can’t be in here!”

   “God damn it, Fenny. You again?” Billy skidded to hush her. Pressed them back into the wall. The heat of his body engulfed her frame, standing a good few inches taller. “Do me a fucking solid. Hide this for me.”

   Billy had no sense of boundaries because he was stuffing a baggie into her front jean pocket. 

   “What are you doing?” She seethed at him, smacking his arms off her to put some distance. “Get off me!”

   “Don’t say a word. Got it?” Billy lifted a finger with an intent look. Smelled of leather and his heavy cologne. Hairspray too. It all overshadowed the cigarette scent. He smoothed his tee out and turned to see the door. Scrambling like a spider, Billy jumped up on the toilet, threw his messenger bag outside, and pulled himself up. Wiggled his way out.

   Evie heard a thud and groan.

   “What the fuck?” She whispered, more so to herself as he disappeared. Hands pulled what was clearly concealed weed bundled up several times and bagged from her pocket. “Shit.” More footsteps before the door burst as she shoved it away.

   “You see that Hard-grove kid?” A thick accent asked. Security guy. Useless.

   “Uh!” Evie pulled her bag up. “Who?...This is the ladies room! Can’t a girl have a moment here?” 

   “Sorry!” He cringed away before she jumped into mushy period talk. It always worked. 

   Evie rolled her eyes and marched out to find Billy. Casual as can be, he tossed his bag into the trunk of his car and stilled to light a cigarette. Grumbling, steps hurried up the hill.

   “Asshole!” She tossed the weed at his chest, made him catch it awkwardly and stuff it into the trunk with a hiss.

   “Keep a lid on it, will you?” He slammed it shut. No one was around to see them.

   “Don’t do that shit again.” She pushed into him to go, Billy’s big hand wrapped around her wrist. Tugged her square into his chest. An unkind grin swept.

   “I had you figured, didn’t I? You didn’t say anything.” Billy blew smoke into the air, plucked the cigarette out to flick it with his free hand.

   “Let go.” Evie huffed. “I would have been in deep shit too for that.” She wiggled and pushed at his chest. 

   Billy flicked his bright eyes over hers. So brown they looked black in winter. He never noticed that she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks like he did. Pale for a girl with darker features. Indiana falls and winters must have taken the color right out of her. Looked like a lot of the mixed gals he knew back home. 

   Big curls. Soft and curvy. 

   Angry at him over something he did.

   There's no place like home, he figured.

   “You’re so weak.” Billy laughed at her. Took another drag. “They told me you freaked out on a guy last year.”

   “You want to be next?” She twisted away from him and turned. It wasn’t a real threat. He’s seen her tend to plants like they were humans. Feed neighborhood cats and nurse her own. Old black cat with not long left. Little fucker was always creeping him out from her bedroom window. Constantly staring with huge green eyes like it knew something Billy didn’t.

   “Babysit your own weed.”

   “You walking home?” Billy was relentless, voice lifting.

   Evie huffed and turned.

   “What, are you going to say I probably need the exercise? My bike chain broke.”

   “Christ, I was gonna offer a ride. Figured I owed you for saving my damn weed and my break. Not like it's out of the way.” Billy turned to open the passenger door. “Quit being a drag and get in. I don’t bite hard...unless asked.”

   “You’re such a creep.” She eyed him there. Wondered how he stayed warm in a tee, jeans, and leather jacket. “Not waiting for Max?” He gave this annoyed look.

   “She’s going out with her stupid friends, not my problem today.” Billy got in, gesturing. “At least close the door if you’re not coming. I went through the effort to open it for you.”

   “What a gentleman.” Sarcasm.

   Evie came back toward his car and debated it. Smelled like it might rain with the sky turning grey. And she really didn’t want to walk in these shoes. Rationalizing it, she slipped inside and shut the door. Settled her bag in her lap. Even buckled up. Billy revved the engine and skidded to speed out without a second glance.

   “You going to the party with Heather?”

   Evie peered at him watching the road with this hard look on his face. Ghosted a smile. Bingo.

   “You’re being nice to me to get to Heather, huh. You know you’re not the first guy to pull this. Could have just asked me about her.”

   Crystalline eyes flared up at her face.

   “What? Dorky chicks like you turn me on, too.” He replied rougher, not bothering to watch the road.

   “Wow. Spread it on thick, Hargrove.” She turned from him.

   “I always do.” He hit a hard corner. Christ, he drives fast. “I got a shot?”

   “She thinks you’re cute.” Evie shrugged. Far too used to this. Eyes slid to his profile. Wild curls still golden on grey days. The boy glowed. It was absolutely insufferable. Leaves whirled by, brown and dead. A smile crossed her face. “Listen. Since you’re saving me a walk. I’ll help you.”

   “Help me? I don’t need your help, I just wondered if she was gonna show.” He scoffed, turning on Cherry Lane.

   “You want to know what Heather likes. It’ll help you.” She crossed her arms, nearly flying forward when he screeched to a stop in front of his house. Billy shot her a look, filled with pride. “You got a pen and paper, bud?”

   He snatched her bag, tore a page from her notebook and dug into his glove box for a pen.

   Ass. She hugged it back to her chest.

   "Talk."

   “Okay.” A breath. “The thing about Heather is she’s a romantic. Jane Austin girl. Pride and Prejudice. If you can quote that just once like Mr. Darcy, she’s yours... Well? Are you writing?”

   Billy did a double take and huffed, grumbling. He actually marked it down.

   “Mr. Who?”

   “Your life amazes me.” She chuckled. “Darcy.”

   “Got it. Darcy. I’ll ask Susan about that shit, she’s a reader.” He muttered, tongue sweeping out before he scribbled. 

   “And she loves museums. First date ideas. Milkshakes. Cheese fries with jalapenos. Cheeseburger gal. Chinese from that corner joint. Always spicy. Easy picks.”

   “A girl after my own burning heart.” Billy felt her peer at him again. Lips lifting with this expression he couldn’t read. Blinked her big eyes and went on.

   “Definitely loves to snuggle in with something scary even though they freak her out. Must be a curiosity thing.”

   “Any excuse to get close to someone, I like it. This is gold, Angel, go on.”

   “You know, I think that’s all I got for you.” Evie turned to get out, sighing. That was just a little evil. “Billy.”

   “What?” He shut his door and turned from her.

   “Thanks for the ride.” She moved to go toward her house. “Knock ‘em dead.”

   Billy didn’t reply. Just watched her go into her house before he dug for another smoke.

   “Mom?” Evie called. “I’m home.”

   “I’m in my room, sweetheart!”

   Ramona Fenny was a spirited woman, went by Mona to the neighborhood. A girl of the 60s. Built like Dolly Parton with a pumped hairstyle to match in sleek dark brown, almost black. She worshiped the woman. Looked like she could have modeled atop a cake. 

   A church going girl who used prayer to get her through the divorce. Never pushed it on others, not even Evie. Too busy pushing other things. Like the free days she lost having her daughter young. She liked what worked in life and this worked for her. Liked the pretty side to things. 

   Mona was a sunny side up sort of mother.

   Best friends with Claudia Henderson as they both went through divorces which was not in God’s plan. Evie liked Dustin, she babysat him on occasion and he was a good kid. Bullied like her. 

   Mona owned the favored hair salon in town. Worked long hours with a team of women and ran a tight ship. Did hair for all the social elites so she knew everyone and all the hot gossip. And did she love that detail the most. Evie helped out with reception during vacation time. Liked the extra cash.

   “I was going to go to Heather’s later, there’s a party.”

   “Oh, have fun, baby.” She pushed her kid to go out. To live. To be smart. Never asked her to call. Not out of trust for Evie, she couldn’t be bothered. Never imagined her daughter would be up to mischief.

   If only she knew.

   Sometimes, Mona keyed in when it suited her. Understood when Evie’s likes and dislikes changed. When she asked to not go to church anymore because it didn’t help her after her dad walked out. Ramona was understanding as long as you didn’t bring up things like depression and anger. There always had to be a way out. Turn the other cheek.

   Evie knew her mother always thought the best.

   “Great.” Evie crossed to steal the hair brush, helped her mother out with the teasing. Dyed rich and dark locks that used to be a mousy brown. Dark eyes like her daughter. Evie didn’t look like her father with his brighter features. Her lush hair and russet eyes. Thick brows. “You going out? All dressed up...”

   “Just into town, couple of errands.”

   That was something that changed a week after her dad moved out. Mona’s style revamp. She was a woman of the sixties and seventies and that came back full force. Styled and pumped up like she was walking out of a Nancy Sinatra music video. Men around town noticed it and the woman certainly speculated. 

   But, her daughter had a style change too after the incident so it must have run in the family.

   “Better?” Evie eyed the glittery rings sitting in a ceramic dish. They looked like gumballs there.

   “Touch of hairspray and I’ll be right as rain.” Pink manicured nails came up with the can. “Take cover, baby.”

   “Got it.” Evie disappeared in a waft of spray. Stole an ice cube from the freezer to crunch it out of this habit she picked up when dad was gone. Cool and melty between her fingers before she swallowed it down. Felt the bulge tense all down her throat. Another followed. Teeth straining to crack it like glass. The chunks went down a little less smooth as she looked for real food and shut the fridge instead.

   Evie went into the bedroom to see her old cat on the pillow. His head lifted. Skinny and balding. Blind in one eye.

   “How’re we doing, my handsome boy?” Evie dropped her bag and crossed to pet him. Purrs erupted, whiskers twitching. “Bourbon, my darling.”

   A scratch of a meow rasped.

   “Yes, I love you too. I’d kiss you if my lips weren’t done up.” She smacked her lips and stood. “Outfit.” Clothing pushed around. Her room was a small, intimate space. Few pictures and purple curtains. Desks covered in song lyrics, trinkets, and needle felting projects.

   Evie held up garments to the cat, but he was no help. Just purred there like a motor boat. Settled on a black top with some sparkle and a magenta wash denim jacket. Jewelry was a must, she preferred earrings that were huge acrylic hearts. Bourbon had gotten into the window to watch the window across the way. 

   Billy wandering shirtless and damp. Muscles red and bulging like he’d done a quick work out

   “Yeah, not today, my sweet.” Evie plucked the cat from the window and reached to close the blinds. Billy caught her. Winked and licked his lips slower. She made a face at him. Utterly loathing and not impressed at his peacock way of navigation. “Ew." 

   The blinds snapped down, leaving Billy to laugh there. Evie carried her purring cat out, chiding. 

   "Don’t make his head any bigger than it already is.”

~~~~

TAGLIST OPEN! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks!

[thecoleopterawithana]

[Mendips] was a very catty household; John liked cats. They had pedigree Siamese cats, which again is slightly middle-class, if you think about it, rather than a puppy. There was always this slight feeling. His was Aunt Mimi, ours were all called Aunty: Aunty Edie, Aunty Jin, Aunty Milly, Aunty Flo. John had an Aunt Harriet, and Harriet was not a name we came across, especially when they called her Harrie! We never knew women called Mimi, she would have been called Mary. But Aunt Mary became Mimi, which is very sophisticated, very twenties and thirties, very jazz era. So it was Harriet and Mimi: I can imagine them with long cigarette holders. It was like Richmal Crompton's Just William books to me. You read Just William books because you like that world. I'm not ashamed of it, I'm attracted by that. I think it's a rich world, the world of Varsity, the Racquet Club sort of thing. So John was a particularly attractive character in that kind of world. And John was the all-important year and a half older than me.

Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

See also:

John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us, John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song Working Class Hero – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class.

— Paul McCartney, in The Beatles Anthology (1995).

John’s family was rather sort of middle-class— there was a lot of his appeal to me. I still am attracted to… hum, that type of person. Particularly the British type of person. My auntie Jin used to say: “Son, see, there’s nothing nicer than an educated Scot’s voice.” And I know what she means! [Scottish accent] You know, that rather nice Scottish purr… And John had relatives up in Edinburgh, and one of them was a dentist and somebody worked in the BBC! After all, now, come on! None of us knew people like that! So I was kind of attracted to that. It wasn’t a social climbing thing, it’s just that I do find it attractive. I like intelligent people, I like talented people.

— Paul McCartney [Audio]

-

As per the Just William book series’ Wikipedia page:

“The Just William series is a sequence of thirty-nine books written by English author Richmal Crompton. The books chronicle the adventures of the unruly schoolboy William Brown. [...]

“William Brown is a middle-class schoolboy of 11, who lives in a country village in Southern England. [...]��William is the leader of his band of friends, who call themselves the Outlaws, with his best friend Ginger and his other friends Henry and Douglas. His scruffy mongrel is called Jumble. [...]

“Leader of the Outlaws, William is unique in schoolboy literature – confident, strong-willed, independent-minded with original world-views, a born leader who is keen to be chief in any undertaking of the Outlaws. He does not care about his clothes or appearance, wears a scowl as his best "company manners" and hates small talk. [...] William usually has a withering contempt for girls and women (except his mother) but can occasionally be chivalrous. He has a soft spot for the neighbour, Joan, who admires him enormously. A rebel and die-hard optimist, William often shows a strong sense of responsibility when the situation demands, an unwillingness to back out of challenges and a bulldog-like determination to overcome hurdles. His imagination and love of adventure constantly get him into strange and difficult situations. Peculiar complications often arise when he tries to "help" others, but as fortune favours the brave, William usually wins.”

[zoxiqwritesstuff]

This short fic is based on the amazing Mamabear Au by @elisaphoenix13. Go check her out on here and AO3. She is a true master story teller!

Heroes don't always wear capes 

Summary: For the first time, Peter can save someone's life without Spiderman. 

Before Peter could step off the elevator,  Stephen was there with a worried expression on his face. FRIDAY had alerted him that Peter had seemed a bit distraught upon his arrival to the tower. 

"What's wrong cub?" Stephen asked as the teen shrugged his backpack off of his shoulders.

Brown eyes met the sorcerer's blue ones as he could see Peter trying to form the question in his head. Peter's face dropped as the question formed. The teen fidgeted a bit with the hem of his shirt before he looked up at the doctor.  

"How much do you know about the signs of depression?" Peter asked in a soft voice.

Stephen's eyes went wide as motherly panic began to fill him.

Was Peter depressed? And if he was,  by the Vishanti, why hadn't he seen it sooner? The sorcerer moves beside him, placing a hand on the teen's back as he guides him over to the couch. Once they are both settled, Stephen shifts his posture so he is fully focused on Peter. The teen however still kept his gaze low, as if he were still deep in thought.

"Peter, are you…" Stephen began to ask.

Beforehe could finish, it was if the metaphorical dam that was holding back Peter's thoughts burst.

"There's this girl at my school. We have Chemistry and Spanish together and she used to be on the Decathlon team too." Peter explained. "She's really smart and really nice to everybody, but then she quit the Decathlon team and I noticed that she wasn't as happy anymore. She used to try to answer every question in class but now she just sits in the back and looks so lost. She sits by herself at lunch and if someone sits at the table she's at she just leaves. I'm worried about her, mom. I just wanted to know the signs of depression so I could see if she is or if I'm just overanalyzing everything."

Peter finally took a breath after his word vomit explanation. Stephen let out a sigh of relief, the overwhelming dread that one of his cubs was hurting washed away. Peter was just curious to help another student.  He really was the best kid.

"While I may not be a psychologist, I was taught the basics to diagnose such mental disorders in patients to transfer them to the proper wing." Stephen stated. "And from what you've described, I do conclude that this girl is exhibiting signs of depression."

Peter's expression fell to one of deep concern.

"How can I help her?" The teen quickly asked.

"Have you told your school's counselor?" The doctor asked in return. 

Peter shook his head no. "I wanted to be sure first."

"I would start there,  maybe try and talk to her as well. She could just feel like she has no one to go to." The doctor suggested. 

Peter nodded in agreement before reaching out and hugging the sorcerer. Stephen smiled at the embrace, carding his shaky hand through the teen's unruly curls.

"Thank you mom." Peter's voice was muffled with his face being buried in Stephen's collarbone. 

"Your welcome cub."

***

The next day was supposed to be like every other day. Everything had been just like a normal day, but Peter couldn't help but feel like something was off. His spider sense wasn't going off, which only confused him more. The teen was so lost in his thoughts that he almost ran into a street lamp.

Almost.

Harley grabbed Peter by the back of his shirt, pulling out of the way of the potential collision. 

"Are you going for a record of how many times you can run into a pole?" Harley teased Peter.

"What? No!" Peter retorted, turning his attention to straight ahead. "I just can't shake the feeling that something is wr…"

The hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up as they were about to their school. There was danger at the school. Harley was already around the corner before Peter rounded it. There was a large crowd gathered at the entrance to the school and several students had their phones out recording. Peter soon found Harley amongst the crowd. 

"What's going on?" Peter asked.

"You need to suit up Peter." Harley muttered to the teen, as he pointed up.

Peter followed where the older teen's finger pointed, his brown eyes widening in shock.  There was a person sitting on the edge of the roof but not just any person. It was the girl he had told Stephen about. The teen was formulating a plan as some teachers came out, one with a megaphone to talk to the girl. 

Peter looked at Harley before the two silently nodded to one another and the younger teen slipped away. 

Peter hurried around to the back of the building to an area he was sure there were no cameras. The teen took a deep breath before scaling the wall with his spider grip. Moments later, he climbed the side and was standing on the roof, his web shooters hidden but ready… just in case. He took slow steps toward the girl.

"Hey there. I'm Peter." Peter calmly announced.

The girl didn't even turn to face him nor was she startled. Silence hung in the air.

"Can I come sit by you?" Peter asked as stopped his movements.

Silence. His brown eyes glanced down, noticing how her fingers tensed. Maybe if he just kept talking he could get her away from the edge.

"We have Chemistry and Spanish together. That test last tuesday was pretty hard in Spanish." Peter just talked.

"Why are you doing this?" Sophie asked, her voice soft but trembling. 

The tone of her voice reminded Peter too much of how he was right after May had died. She sounded so broken, so alone. Peter had to help her.

"Because I'm your friend. We may not talk all the time but we had Decathlon together." Peter explained. "You're really great too."

Sophie scoffed. "I don't have friends so just stop… this is…"

Sophie stood up and Peter could hear the crowd gasp below them. She turned to face the teen behind her, her eyes red from crying.

"You feel like there's nothing left don't you?" Peter asked and for the first time, he saw the pleading look in Sophie's eyes. "The world feels really cold and you have this overwhelming feeling of nothingness that just consumes you."

"How…" Sophie croaked out as fresh tears threatened to spill.

"I felt that way when my Aunt May died." The teen explained as he inched a bit closer.

"B...but your so happy even when you're bullied… how did you make it stop?" Sophie cried, her trembling hands running through her hair. "My own mind tells me how worthless I am… how it would be better if I just… disappeared."

"It wouldn't be though. " Peter urged. "When you quit Decathlon we lost our only arts and literature person. You were the reason we won state that one year because we were all so clueless."

A laugh escaped Sophie's lips. So he was getting somewhere with her with these stories. Maybe a few more and he could coax her away from the edge. 

"Do you remember that time in Spanish when I fell asleep?" Peter inquired.

"You jolted awake and said some very odd sentence all in Spanish. You were so lost until I tossed that note at you with what was going on." Sophie smiled softly.

"I would have been so lost if you didn't help me." The teen chuckled, reaching a hand out to Sophie. "I want to help you now."

The girl just looked at his hand as tears ran down her cheeks. She reached out her trembling hand to take Peter's. Once her hand was close enough, the teen pulled the girl into a tight hug as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Sophie sobbed quietly as he hugged her, apologies flowing between hiccups. The two teens stayed like that until the paramedics came on the roof. The two men carefully guided Sophie through the school and into the ambulance waiting at the entrance. Peter followed closely behind them just so he could keep an eye on Sophie.

Once outside, Harley came rushing over to him just as he was waving to Sophie.

"Dude! Did you just do what I think you just did?" Harley asked the younger teen.

Peter just nods. "Yeah. I knew how she was feeling and I knew the only way I was saved was by mom and dad talking to me."

"Well, why don't we go out and celebrate my little brother being a hero." The older teen smiled and clapped Peter on the back. "School's been canceled for the rest of the day."

The two teens walk away from the school heading to the small cafe near the school. Harley's phone began to ring and the teen promptly answered it. 

"Hey dad." 

"Can you tell me why you two aren't at school?" Tony asked. "If you're playing hooky, I will get mama bear."

"There was an incident at school and classes got canceled." The older teen explained, looking at Peter. "If you turn on the news, you'll see Peter being a badass and saving the day."

"FRIDAY didn't alert me to spiderman being on the scene." The billionaire replied, confused as he turned on the news.

"Watch the news dad and you'll see. We'll be home soon dad. Love you." Harley ended the call.

Tony just stared at his phone before he turned the television on. As he took his seat on the couch, Stephen came out of the kitchen with a hot cup of tea and took a seat next to his husband. Both men were both in shock at the headline: "Not All Heroes Wear Capes". The news footage showed clips of Peter talking Sophie down as well as of her parents that were thanking Peter for saving their daughter. The two men just smile at the news story,  thankful that everyone was ok.

"Looks like our kid is two superheroes now." Tony smiled.

"Both equally strong and caring." Stephen included as he sipped his tea.

"Well I think this is cause for celebration! We can all go pick up Diana from school and then all go out for once." The billionaire suggested as he got up from his spot on the couch, scooping Valerie out of her playpen. "What do you think Val?"

Valerie just blinked up at her father before smiling widely. "Mama!"

Stephen stiffles his laugh as his husband playfully rolls his eyes, lips curled into a smile.

"I should have seen that coming." Tony snorted as he held Valerie. 

An hour later, Peter and Harley arrived to the family floor, both teens shrugging off their backpacks and slinging them onto the couch. Harley grabbed the remote as Peter walked to the kitchen to grab a soda for the older teen and himself. The whistling teapot alerted the teen that Stephen was also there, the sorcerer smiling as he saw the teen enter the kitchen. A look of knowing passed between the two before the sorcerer pulled the younger teen into a tight hug. Peter had his nose buried into Stephen's collarbone as the sorcerer kissed the top of the teen's head.

"We are so proud of you cub." Stephen muttered into brown curls.

"I just did what I thought you or dad would do." Peter replied.

"We're going out to celebrate your heroics after we all pick up Diana from school. She's going to definitely want to brag that her big brother is a hero." Stephen grinned as he pulled away to make his cup of tea. 

Peter grabbed the two sodas he had ventured in for and walks back to the couch, tossing Harley his soda. As Peter flopped next to his brother, the teen's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing it was a text message as he opened his phone. The message came from an unknown number but upon reading the message, Peter knew exactly who it was from. The message was two words, the only words of praise he needed for his deed.

"Thank you."

[notaburgler]

A fic I wrote for a friend for Christmas. Just a little Dadzawa... (Pardon any spelling or grammar errors)

A twinkling above head and a rough pass of freezing wind jolted Eraserhead from his trance. The winter months made patrol so much less enjoyable for the hero. He tried to bundle up the best he could, but couldn’t pack on too many jackets or sweaters and remain limber at the same time. He was in luck; his capture weapon helped keep the icy fingers of Mother Nature from grazing his neck and sending shivers up and down his entire body. 

Eraserhead hated the cold. What’s worse was his roommate, none other than the voice hero Present Mic, kept the windows open and a fan on leaving the house terribly cold all day and night. His sleeping bag was never enough. He layered blanket after blanket and cranked the heat to 100. Trying hard to beat this winter, he would curl up in bed after a long shift; but that cozy thought was still hours away. 

No, villains didn’t fall silent due to weather. They didn’t close up shop or hibernate. If anything, the colder the night, the more dangerous it got. Hero’s movements were sluggish and left them less than efficient due to shivering and tingling, frozen fingers.

With his hands tucked in his pockets, he walked the streets in a particularly dangerous part of town hoping if he were to catch a villain in the act, the physical activity of fighting would help warm his body up, if only for a short while. 

His fingers tingled and his nose red, the clocks second hand finally marched to the 12 at the top of his watch signaling the end of his shift. The next hero would jump from a rooftop or rush around the corner any second to greet and relieve him. So, he waited. He waited and waited. He was sure he was at the agreed upon meeting spot. Maybe he took a wrong turn?

A light, gentle buzz came from his pocket. He lifted his phone and sighed at the text shining into his tired, bloodshot eyes.

“I won’t be able to make it tonight. Sorry.”

It wasn’t really what he wanted to see. Be late. Be lazy. Be in the wrong location or lost. Don’t bail! Now Eraserhead was stuck working the next shift. And with class the next day, he would be in no mood for anyone’s sass.

The class was rowdy. Aizawa already had a headache, and the events that unfolded during his second shift on patrol didn’t help. There wasn’t anything in particular that happened; just a few evil doers that thought it would be fun to make him stay even longer than he wanted and a store clerk that couldn’t exactly pinpoint the details of the person that robbed him. Sometimes, Aizawa really disliked people. 

“Calm down.” His voice was as usual, deadpan and almost monotone. It was how he presented himself that seemed off to the rest.

Midoriya, the observationalist he is, pointed it out first. Aizawa disregarded the claim that he seemed more tired and cranky. 

Cranky, huh? He guessed that would be a good word to use to describe his current mood.

It was a bit of a childish word, but who was Aizawa to argue? That’s exactly what it was. He needed a nap that lasted the duration of his 30’s and a nice fluffy bed to cuddle up in while he slept. Was that too much to ask?

He’d been working himself to the bone: teaching class, patrol, meetings, grading homework. Not to mention those kids wouldn’t stop drawing the League of Villains attention. He was on guard at all times. Having another student badly hurt or kidnapped would only make his bad day worse.

He caught himself watching the clock as Mic took to the center of the room. He should have been spending that time grading papers and going over the curriculum. Lunch would start soon and this would be his chance to at least nap for a moment. Why he wasn’t using Mic’s presence to nap, He wasn’t sure. He felt the urge to sleep, but once he curled up in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, the undeniable feeling of dread sunk into him and forced his stinging and tired eyes open. 

He sat up and watched the class silently jotting down notes. At least they paid attention when Mic was teaching. So many times had his class become unruly to the point of him having to threaten harm (albeit faux harm). He’d activate his quirk, drying his eyes even more, and pull his scarf from his neck. With a menacing glare they would calm down and he would resume class. 

He jumped slightly. A motion he hoped had gone unnoticed by his class when the bell rang signaling it was lunch time. 

With a sigh, he slouched at his desk, Present Mic staying behind to check in. 

“Rough day?” His gloved hand pressed against Aizawa’s shoulder in a comforting manor. 

Aizawa sighed again, letting his eyes fall closed, “Yeah ... rough Day? Night? I don’t even know anymore.” He opened his eyes once more and glanced up at his best friend.

His smile was almost annoying. He hadn't patrolled in weeks and his homework assignments were easy to grade. Yeah, he worked at the radio station and was up early for his show, but it was only a few hours and at least he enjoyed it. Aizawa, at this point, wasn’t even sure he liked what he did. Hero work was one thing, but teaching? Who would want to be a glorified babysitter all day?

Mic huffed gently seeing maybe now wasn’t the best time for Aizawa to have company, “Well, take care of yourself.” He dropped his usual persona; Calling everyone listener, even when they were right in front of his face.

****

“Mr. Aizawa seemed off today.” Uraraka stated with concern in her soft eyes. 

“Maybe one of his cats rejected him and he doesn’t know how to handle it?” Kaminari, always coming up with the weirdest of reasons behind people’s actions. 

The group of students headed down the hall to the dining area as they spoke. None of them felt quite right about his demeanor. He was normally calm and tired eyed. He’d take every chance to sleep that he could. Some students and staff had found him in the most precarious locations: janitors closets, the rooftop, on the sports field, under tables, the bathroom stalls. But today he was showing signs of sleep deprivation they hadn’t seen yet.  

Bakugo huffed, “People can have bad days. I have them.” He slammed to the table.

Kirishima, the sunshine boy of the class smiled smacking him on the back a little rougher than normal, “everyday is a bad day for you.”

“Shut up asshole!”

Uraraka spotted Midoriya talking to himself again. This wasn’t the first time. He had an unusual talent to absorb information like a sponge and made notes of it all in his handy dandy notebook always in his bag. He also had the uncanny ability to creep people out with that same information, not to mention the delivery. 

“Deku?” She asked with a tilted head that made her hair lightly bounce.

He shook himself, nervously falling backwards and onto the floor. 

As he stumbled to his feet he smiled, “sorry, just going over details I can remember about Mr. Aizawa.” He scratched his head. “He’s smart and logical. So there’s a reason he’s kinda in a sour mood, right?”

****

He should have napped. He needed to nap, but he was so used to lack of sleep at this point that napping was a bandaid on a broken leg. He had transcended into a state of eternal consciousness. Even with closed eyes and a yawn, he would never be able to fall asleep at the school like normal. He needed his bed and his blankets and the soft hum of the street lamps outside. He needed that white noise machine Mic had bought him last year for Christmas to be able to tune out all other thoughts and just sleep. But he also needed to eat; a fact announced unintentionally when his stomach screamed from it's emptiness. 

At least the teachers lounge was quiet. Most of them would indulge in Lunch Rushes food, and for good reason. The lounge was quiet, just what he needed. He had a free period after lunch- more time to wind down and stop snapping at the students. The questions were valid and the reactions were to be expected. All morning they had been unusually attentive and calm, and all he had been is a real jerk. He spent the better part of second period explaining to them that he wasn’t their parent and he shouldn’t have to teach them respect and manners all because Ojiro let out a small burp that made the class erupt into laughter.

It was an odd mood he felt so purely. He hadn’t been this irritable and moody since high school, and even then, it wasn't nearly as bad as it is now.

Yeah, he didn’t get sleep. Yeah, he was hungry. Yeah, he was irritated that the pro that was supposed to relieve him last night bailed. All of these things would put someone, anyone into a foul mood. Not even All Might, Mr. happy-go-lucky, wasn’t immune to bad days and poor attitudes. 

Aizawa brushed off his mood as a fit of hanger and ate in silence. 

As he felt like a calm had washed over him, the chatter of students in the halls just past the frosted glass window on the door brought back his irritation. 

Maybe he should have called in today? Maybe he should have taken the day to just stay at home and catch up on sleep? Maybe he should have called another hero last night to take over? Or maybe just bail altogether and hope for the best? It’s not like anything happened that couldn’t have been dealt with later or by the cops.

His lunch ended, meaning his free period was over. At least he got a little time to reflect on his recent actions and words. Calling Midoriya annoying and telling Bakugo he will never be a hero with such a poor attitude (in retrospect, he wasn’t one to talk) was maybe a bit harsh. All Might was with his class, so he hoped to have them calm and listening for the rest of the day. Maybe an apology was due? Maybe he’d let them slack off for a bit? He wasn’t sure, but he’d make the decision once he got to the classroom.

He slid the door open staring at the floor. His eyes a mere slit against the rough features of his face. It figures, now is when he would be able to pass out right on the floor and sleep for days. At least he’d be in the classroom when he woke and wouldn’t need to get dressed in the morning. 

His eyes lifted and his hand reached for the back of his head with a nervous rub of his neck. Yeah, an apology was due. “Hey class-“

“THANK YOU MR. AIZAWA!”

He glanced around at the room. 

Balloons and streamers strung throughout. A cake big enough for an army to eat— with leftovers to spare. Each student wearing a shirt with his creepy smiling face on it. 

“What’s going on?” He tried to hide his excitement. 

All Might blew his cheap plastic kazoo right in Aizawa's face, “the students wanted to let you know how much they appreciate you. So they spent lunch putting together a party.”

He glanced around the room at all of the smiling faces. 

“Eri,” Midoriya nudge her out in front, “go.” He quietly urged her.

She looked to Mirio for confirmation, and after his nod, she pressed forward with a box in hand, “thank you Aizawa.” 

She was adorable. Unable to maintain eye contact, but fighting her nerves and fears to present the man that had been caring for her with his gift.

His first smile of the day was the most genuine smile he had worn in ages. “Why couldn’t we get a picture of that smile instead of the creepy one that looks like he’s about to put an axe through the door?” Kaminari whispered to Jiro.

A new pair of pink sweatpants was just what he needed. Present Mic had adamantly begged the students to get him something other than the dreadful pink sweatpants, but after hearing of how much he loved them, they had to buy them. His smile grew even more sincere as he unfolded them to see them better. A large cut out of what looked like a cat was poorly sewn into the butt of it.

“Eri drew and cut the cat, Midnight helped sew it on.” Mirio smiled with a thumbs up.

The anger. The irritation. The bad mood. All of it wiped clean and replaced with a warm and tender feeling buzzing inside. He felt whole in this class. He felt important. He felt happy. 

“Thank you class.” He blinked hiding the small trail the tear had left along his cheek.

Shouta Aizawa may not be their parent. He may not be their real family. But this classroom, and these students, are the only family he really needs. 

He whispered, a voice gone unnoticed, even by Jiro, “Thank you so much class. I love being your teacher.” 

[gvldntrbl]

&&. cauldron above, ( Isadora Moon ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( she ) is/are affiliated with ( summer court ). ( She ) is a(n) ( 161 / appears 32 ) year old ( Warrior Fae ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( Jessica Matten ). ( She ) has been said to be ( disciplined & sensible ) but also quite ( intense & mischievous ). ( She ) is currently serving as ( knight of summer court ). 

BASICS

Name: Isadora Li Moon Nicknames/Alias: ...tbh? none. brave souls have attempted to give her one but Isadora prefers her name as is and doesn’t respond to nicknames.  Face Claim: Jessica Matten  Age: 161 / appears 32 Gender: Female Sexuality: Pansexual Species: Warrior Fae Rank: Knight - Summer Court

PERSONALITY

Isadora is quiet and thoughtful. Growing up, it was a tactic she used to not be seen as a threat. While she is a knight, and now enjoys fighting/battles/etc., she didn’t always. Nor was Isadora one to instigate violence. She’d dealt with that too often as a child. Especially when a fellow, unruly classmate wanted to prove their strength by forcing Isadora into a brawl. 

Though, to be clear, (outside of warfare/battle and) after ample fair warning(s), she does end things. As needed. It’s not that Isadora does not use her words, she does. In fact, Isadora loves reading in her spare time. Yet, the fact remains that, early in her life, Isadora learned that whenever she tried to speak - no one would listen. And so now, she chooses her words carefully.

Isadora almost always has her nose in a book. Since traveling for leisure is usually out of the question unless, it’s for work, she finds solace in books instead. Fiction, poetry, military strategies or biographies - it doesn’t matter. Isadora likes the words of others to escape in. 

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Ellis Moon (father - deceased; lieutenant for summer court), Lyen Wu Moon (mother - alive; healer for summer court) Siblings/Family: None but may have a few mystery siblings (father’s side); cousins (mother’s side) that she calls siblings (can be either wild hunt or summer); prob has extended nomadic family too (father’s side). 

Spouse: N/A Current Partner: N/A Current Allies: Whichever court(s) is an ally/are allies of Summer Enemies: Whichever court(s) is an enemy/are enemies of Summer

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Hair Colour: Black Eye Colour: Brown Distinguishing Marks: Scars from battle; wings as a warrior fae among summer faeries. 

THE BIO

Growing up, Isadora Moon hated her wings. They stood out, literally heavier than those of others around her in Summer Court. Even her mother’s. The sole child of Ellis Moon and Lyen Wu Moon, Isadora was Warrior Fae. Like her father. It was the first thing anyone ever noticed about her. Teachers, classmates, strangers in crowds or in open markets. Everyone. As a child, Isadora felt as though she was always Warrior Fae first. An assumed troublemaker in training. It didn’t matter that most, if not all, of the physical conflicts Isadora wound up in were never of her own making. But merely the result of her own existence. Fellow students or children that saw her and believed themselves to be better, stronger, than Isadora would challenge her. At times, even demanding to compare their might to hers. Which did not work out in their favor. Truthfully, Isadora wished to blend in. She felt that life would fair much better if she could. But alas.

Each night when Isadora laid for rest, she longed to awake the next day without them. But every morning, without fail, the wings remained. The stubborn, heavy things. It was odd - the balance Isadora had for the love and admiration to Ellis and the soul burning want to be free of very wings he gave her. She loved her father, very much so. He was a strong Warrior and talented in many things. Above all, Ellis was clever, funny and kind. And while Isadora loved her father’s wings, they were just that. His. Not hers. She felt that whomever, or whatever, it was that given them to her had made a mistake. Especially since despite her natural aptitude for it, Isadora was not fond of fighting. And even that was likely a learned behavior to the biased beliefs that she had violent tendencies. Isadora noticed, damned near every time, how the softness of her voice and her reserved demeanor surprised others. It was infuriating. Isadora did not want trouble. Yet it seemed find her.  She could not understand why she couldn’t be left alone in peace. Something that only came after she inevitably fought, physically demonstrated what others they believed her to be - powerful, resilient and vicious. It was only then that respect came with the tranquility that she desired trailing after it. Isadora found it damned near ironic how her only solace came through fighting. ...Of course, it did. 

It was Ellis that trained Isadora, if only out of necessity. A Lieutenant for the Summer Court, he had first hand knowledge of the assumptions others’ cast his daugher’s way. The gentleness of Isadora’s true nature was not permitted to flourish in the world they lived in. But while he and Lyen made sure to cultivate it in their home, Ellis also wanted Isadora to be able to protect herself. ...And she was good. Just as he believed she would be, in his unbiased opinion. He’d even advised Isadora to become a knight. She could do well as one. Years into their training, Ellis left to lead a new campaign as his duties for lieutenant required, when he’d fallen ill. It was an unknown affliction that even Lyen, a skilled healer in her own right, could not cure. Ever the Warrior, Ellis fought valiantly. But eventually he moved on, without Isadora or Lyen, as it was his time. Isadora entered basic training soon after, and heeding her father’s advice, began her apprenticeship to become a knight.

It was odd, the comfort those wings gave her now. The glimpses of Ellis that she saw in herself when she caught a reflection of her wings. It was bittersweet, the acceptance that she felt at her childhood wish never coming true. That every day, Isadora arose with the very wings that she once wanted gone. Wings that used to be her father’s. But now, they too, were hers. 

[calpalirwin]

Never Imagined We’d End Like This

Summary: Just because it doesn’t work, doesn’t mean it wasn’t good. Sometimes people are better off as friends.

A/N: Time to learn a little bit more about the couple Finn and Vanessa were before they became our favorite exes (some overlap of the beginning of Package Deal)

Word Count: 4.4k

And away, and away we go!

__

“Um… Mr. Campbell?” Vanessa asked shyly, her knuckles barely scraping against the open door of the young man’s office.

“Yeah?” Finn asked, not looking up from his work.

“Sorry to bother you… but, um Professor Roe sent me. I missed the midterm and he said I should contact you. I would have emailed but I saw your office was open.”

Finn’s eyes tore away from his work and over at the woman. She was young, eighteen, maybe nineteen, if he had to guess. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with bangs sweeping across her forehead. Soft and innocent eyes that shone with intelligence. “Intro to Psych?” he asked kindly, pulling open a desk drawer and ruffling through it.

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled politely with a nod trying to look anywhere but at the handsome teacher’s assistant the sleeves of his shirt perfectly rolled midway up his forearms, lithe fingers running through the various folders before locating the right one.

“It’s Finn, please,” he told her, opening up the folder and pulling out a test. “I know it’s kinda cramped in here, but you’re more than welcome to the space. Or you can take the test with you and bring it back whenever. I would just recommend setting a timer for like an hour. It’s not worth spending much more time on it than that.”

“Thank you, Finn. But it might be best if I take it here. Quiet space even if it is small.”

He chuckled and cleared off a space on his desk for her. “Here, you can take my chair,” he offered, gesturing to the newly created spot.

“Oh, I can stand,” she waved him off. “You’re already being so nice.”

“Nonsense. I need to check with Professor Roe if he needs anything before class anyways so I’ll be on my feet for a bit,” he half-lied.

“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed as she took the seat and set out to work.

“I’m sorry,” Finn shook his head. “I’m terrible with names. You are?”

“Vanessa Parker. Tuesday/Thursday class at 3.”

“Daydreamer,” he recalled with a nod. The girl had a strong tendency of letting her mind wander, a lazy smile on her lips with her chin cupped in her left hand while her right twirled her pen. But despite her daydreaming, she always had the correct answer on the tip of her tongue.

“I-” she started to stammer. “Last class. Long day. Don’t mean to.”

Finn chuckled. “No, it’s fine. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t so on top of your studies. Are you a psych major, Miss Parker?”

“Vanessa,” she corrected. “And no. Economics.”

He let out a huff of surprise. “Economics, huh? Never woulda guessed.”

She shrugged. “I like numbers. Always a definitive answer.”

He chuckled again and she smiled, liking the way he laughed and him equally enamoured with the way she smiled.

~~~

“Oh, it’s just gonna be me and my mom. I’m an only child, and Dad died when I was in high school,” Finn confessed when they were their plans for the break after the end of the semester.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Vanessa sighed sadly, cupping Finn’s face in her hands, thumbs rubbing across his cheekbones.

“S’alright,” he smiled softly at her, turning his head to press kisses against her palms. “He was sick a lot when I was a kid. Cancer. So we knew it was coming.”

“That’s still shitty, love. I can’t imagine losing my dad even if he does drive me crazy.”

“Yeah, your family. Tell me about them.”

“Mom and Dad. Still married. A sister who’s a year younger than me. I don’t really get along with any of them.”

“Why’s that?” Finn pressed gently.

“My sister’s a narcissist and my parents let her get away with it. My entire life has been her one-upping me. Like I honestly wouldn't be surprised if when I get home she tells us that she got accepted early into like an Ivy League and is valedictorian.”

“Then come home with me for the break.”

She snorted in disbelief. “I can’t just go home with you for the break.”

“Why not?”

“They’re my family, Finn. Whatever our bullshit I haven’t seen them in four months.”

“They may be your family, but toxic is still toxic, Ness.”

“Well…” Vanessa smiled at the thought of spending her week wrapped up in Finn rather than with her family. “I’d have to at least make an appearance… but no one said I had to stay there the whole time…”

Finn brightened, kissing her excitedly. “Oh, this’ll be great! My mom can’t wait to meet you.”

“You told your mom about me?”

“Of course I did. Think I’d keep someone as great as you a secret? I’d tell the whole world if they’d listen.”

Vanessa blushed. “Oh, stop. I’m okay, sure. But I wouldn’t say I’m great.”

“Well, that’s why I’ll say it for you.”

~~~

“Mom, this is Vanessa. Ness, this is my mom, Carol,” Finn introduced.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart!” the older woman said, pulling Vanessa in for a hug.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Vanessa returned the warmth, already liking this welcome home much more than the one she imagined was waiting for her at her parents’ place.

The rest of the afternoon found Vanessa sitting besides Carol on the couch, pouring over photo album after photo album, Finn growing up in front of their eyes. School pictures, birthdays, Halloween costumes, his high school graduation, and finally a picture of him that couldn’t have been that old: his hair an unruly wet mess and a wide smile as he straddled a surfboard in the middle of the ocean. “I didn’t know you surfed,” Vanessa murmured, admiring both the picture and the man at her side.

Finn shrugged. “I’m alright. I’ll take you out sometime if you like.”

“And I’ll teach you how to paint!” she agreed happily.

“You paint?” both Carol and Finn asked.

Vanessa nodded. “Mhm. I have some of them up in my dorm room. You’ve seen ‘em.”

“I thought you bought those…” Finn admitted sheepishly. “They’re really good, Ness.”

“Thanks, love,” she smiled at him, interlacing their fingers together as he kissed her cheek.

“So…” Carol said, “Finn tells me you’re a freshman. How was your first semester living away from home and everything? I bet you miss your family tons.”

So Vanessa spent the better part of the evening rattling off how great her first semester had been while Carol listened intently, beyond happy for the young woman hanging off her son’s arm.

“Mom really likes you,” Finn told her later that night as they settled in for bed.

“I really like her too. She raised a hell of a man.”

“And I can’t wait to meet the family that raised such an amazing woman,” he returned the compliment.

“Oh, trust me. You can.”

Finn was sure his girlfriend was exaggerating, so when they got to her house the next morning, he was more than taken aback. “A boy?” was the greeting he got, complete with a look over from Mr. Parker.

“Finn, Dad,” Vanessa was quick to smooth things out. “He goes to school with me.”

“Mmm. And what do you study?”

“Psychology, sir,” Finn told him.

“Mmm… good money in that to be sure. Not sure if it’s worth all the schooling though. What year are you in?”

“I’m a junior, sir.”

“Older,” was the comment as the man looked over at his daughter.

“I got straight A’s, Dad,” she answered the unasked question about what running around with an older boy would do to her academics.

“So did your sister. Got her early acceptance letter, too.”

“Good for Erica,” Vanessa said with a tight-lipped smile. “Where is she? And Mom?”

“Around.”

As if that was the magic word, an older and younger copy of Vanessa practically poofed into the room, with bright smiles and airy laughs. “Nessie!” the younger one shrieked, before wrapping her sister in a tight hug.

Finn rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, thinking that the dad was a piece of work, but the impression of the sister seemed to be going okay so far. “Nessie! Did Dad tell you about school? I got in! Early acceptance and everything!”

“He did,” Vanessa nodded. “Congratulations. Erica, Mom, this is my boyfriend, Finn.”

Erica’s face fell as she looked over at Finn with the same level of scrutiny the father had given him. “Hello,” he said politely.

“Hi…”

The day quickly fell apart from there. Finn learned exactly what Vanessa had meant by Erica’s narcissistic constant one-upping and the parental acceptance. Every story Vanessa tried to tell her parents was quickly interrupted by an even more glorious story of the younger Parker daughter’s accomplishments with little regard to Vanessa’s own feelings. Still, at the end of the visit, Vanessa hugged her parents and sister goodbye with a smile on her face.

“So, whaddya think?” Vanessa asked, her voice far too bright for the hell they’d just endured.

“Do you want my honest answer, or the answer you want to hear?” he asked.

“The honest one…”

“Baby… your family sucks. Like… I don’t know how someone as great as you came from a family as horrible as that. And the fact that you still willingly put up with them… You’re probably the strongest woman I know…”

When her lip quivered, he was quick to add, “Oh, baby… no, it’s not your fault.”

“I hate them!” she wailed, before breaking down sobbing. “I hate my family!”

He held her while she cried, gently shushing her. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” she continued to sob. “They’re my family! What kind of monster am I for hating my family?!”

“You’re not a monster. Sometimes people just suck. But it’s not a reflection of who you are.”

His words soothed her enough to calm down, but she was still sniffling when they got back to his mom’s. “Oh, my, what happened?!” Carol asked, pulling Vanessa in for a hug and the warmth of it set Vanessa into hysterics again.

“Her sister’s a narcissist and her parents aren’t much better,” Finn deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Finn!” his mother scolded, while rubbing Vanessa’s back. “Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t say it to be mean, Mom. I said it as a professional assessment.”

The woman smacked her son in the arm. “Time and place, Finn, time and place. Your girlfriend is upset.”

“She’s upset because her family sucks.”

“Finn Christopher!”

Vanessa sniffled, pulling out of Carol’s embrace and wiping at her face. “No, Finn’s right. My family… they aren’t the greatest.”

“Well, that’s okay, sweetheart. Unfortunately there’s not much we can do about who were bonded to biologically. But, we do get a say in whether we accept that bond and strengthen it, or create new bonds all together. My own family wasn’t much, but I eventually found one that was. They say you don’t get to choose your family. I say they’re half right.”

~~~

Finn’s mom quickly became Vanessa’s family after that. When spring break rolled around, Finn and Vanessa only visited Carol. And when summer came, Vanessa signed herself up for the school’s summer sessions so she didn’t have to give up her dorm room. A summer spent studying in Finn’s office while he worked, or sitting in the warm sand painting the handsome surfer when they succeeded in pulling the other away from their work.

It was a pattern the couple continued with the following school year. Minimal contact with her family while immersing herself in the new one she had found with Carol and Finn. And when Finn graduated that following spring, him and Vanessa moved into a little apartment a few blocks from campus.

It was in their small apartment that they dreamed about the family they would create together once she finished school and got a steady job, and once he completed his master and doctorate programs and started his own practice. Their own little life far away from the scrutiny of her family.

When Vanessa graduated with her bachelor’s and Finn with his master’s, Finn started to set money aside for a ring so they could start living the life they dreamed about together. But life had its own agenda, much like it does and instead of a ring, Finn bought a pregnancy test and stood with shaking hands outside a bathroom door rather than seated in a chair at a fancy restaurant.

“What’s it say? Finn asked timidly after what felt like the longest three minutes of his life.

“Pregnant,” her voice answered, small and terrified from the other side of the door.

He fought against his throat closing up to croak “Can you come out of the bathroom? Or let me in?”

The door slowly creaked open and she flung herself into his arms. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, baby,” he chuckled, running his hands through her hair and cupping her face in his hands so she’d look up at him. “We got this. I’m here every step of the way. I love you.”

“I love you.”

They told Carol first. After an appointment to make sure everything was going smoothly, they presented the woman with the sonogram. “I-is this…?” Carol stammered, looking quickly between her son, Vanessa, and their hands resting softly on Vanessa’s abdomen.

“Mhm,” Finn nodded.

“Oh, that’s great!” Carol clapped her hands to her mouth as a few happy sobs wracked her body. When she composed herself, she rattled on and on about how excited she was for them, and how if they needed anything all they needed to do was ask her.

Telling Vanessa’s family was another story.

The twenty-two year old woman slid the sonogram towards her parents, her other hand clinging tightly to Finn’s underneath the dinner table. “What’s this?” Mr. and Mrs. Parker asked, faces pulled into frowns as they studied the small picture.

“Your grandchild,” Vanessa told them.

“Oh, Nessie,” they said sorrowfully.

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

“Well you just started at your job. This isn’t going to be easy, Nessie,” her mother said, patting her daughter’s hand comfortingly.

“We know that. But it’s still something we’re excited for and honestly, I’m a little disappointment you don’t seem to share the same enthusiasm. This is your first grandchild.”

“Nessie, we are thrilled for you and Finn,” her father stepped in. “But…”

“But you don’t approve of the timing,” Vanessa finished sharply. “Because you never approved of anything I did.”

“Nessie!” her parents called out in shock as the couple got up and left.

“I’m so proud of you,” Finn murmured, placing a kiss in her hair.

“I don’t know what they want from me… I got good grades. I got a solid career. I have a great relationship with a great man. I’m carrying their grandchild. I did everything right!”

“Shh, it’s alright. They don’t have to be around the baby. You don’t owe them anything.”

“That’s the thing though, Finn. Despite it all, I still want them to be able to meet the baby. My own feelings shouldn’t get in the way of them having a relationship with their grandchild.”

“I ever tell you how proud of you I am, and how much I love you?”

She gave him a watery smile as she nodded. “Yeah. You’re really good at that.”

“You make it really easy. And yes, this may be their grandchild, but it’s our child. And if people want to be in their life, they have to earn it, no matter who they are.”

“Five bucks says Erica’s pregnant by Christmas,” she joked humorlessly.

“Ten says your parents are actually thrilled.”

Both ended up being right. They made their appearance Christmas morning and Erica busted out her news before the couple could hang up their coats. And the younger sister’s news didn’t end there, as she flashed her ring hand exuberantly. The entire breakfast was spent with Erica gushing over her pregnancy and following engagement while Mr. and Mrs. Parker beamed with pride of how wonderful it was that Erica would graduate, and become a wife and mother by the time summer rolled around. Vanessa left fuming that she’d never speak to her parents or her sister ever again. Finn wholeheartedly agreed, but knew his girlfriend would probably flip flop back and forth between wanting nothing to do with her family and wanting them in their child’s life.

~~~

“Are you ever gonna ask me to marry you?” Vanessa asked as they crammed together on the hospital to stare over at the bassinet that held the world’s most perfect little boy.

“I was,” Finn admitted.

“Past tense… Uh-oh…”

Finn gave a soft laugh as he kissed the side of her head. “I didn’t want you to think I was asking you because you were pregnant and it was the ‘right’ thing to do. When I ask I want there to be no doubt in your mind about why I’m asking. I won’t ask you if you think I’m only asking because you’re the mother of my child. I want you to know I’m asking you because I can’t imagine my life without you by my side. And when I think you know that, I’ll ask. Until then, I’m just gonna love you and Mason like crazy.”

~~~

“Finn? Finn. Finn!”

“Huh? What?!” Finn jumped in his seat.

“Were you even listening?” she asked, voice laced with annoyance.

“Yeah… the babbling… more stories. Library.”

She sighed.

“What?”

“I told you about the library having toddler time last week.”

“Oh… sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying,” she said in a clipped tone, “that we should try to get him in a routine.”

“Mase already has a routine,” Finn pointed out.

“No, but like even more of one. Like we can talk with Mom about getting her to do the same things with him at the same time every day when she watches him. And at home we can do the same thing. Says here that getting rid of any unpredictability can help kids with autism.”

“Mase isn’t autistic though.”

“No, the doctors say he’s too young to know for certain. But he definitely has signs we should be looking for. If they thought he wasn’t autistic, they would say he wasn’t and tell us to look for something else. Not being entirely sure isn’t the same as not being it at all, Finn.”

“Whatever… get him on a stricter routine then.”

She threw her hands in the air. “So you don’t even care? This is our son, Finn.”

“How are you mad at me for agreeing with you?”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated in general, and would like you to take this seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Just because I don’t spend all my free time pouring over different studies that all conflict with each other like you do, doesn't mean I’m not taking this seriously, Ness.”

“I’m not expecting you to do the research with me! But I’d like it if you would listen to it.”

“I am listening! You want him on a stricter routine. Great. Do that then.”

“Ugh! Why are you so frustrating!”

“Because this is frustrating! You think it’s easy being told that my son will never be able to look me in the eye, or call me ‘Daddy’?! That I’ll probably never hear him say he loves me?! Just because I’m not struggling with this news the same way you are doesn’t mean I’m not equally heartbroken about this! Just because my coping is different than yours doesn’t make me a bad parent!”

“I never said you were!”

“You didn’t have to…” His chair scraped back as he stood up.

“Where are you going?!”

“We’re both way too worked up, so I’m leaving before we say something we’ll regret.”

“This is so fuckin’ stupid!”

“Oh look! Something we agree on!”

Vanessa swallowed the scream. She envied the way Finn could remain level headed, pick his words carefully, and even realize when he needed to walk away from a conversation. Being with him, she had picked up on some of those habits herself, but she knew she still struggled with wanting to give up the fight even if it was only to hit pause.

After ten or so minutes, she went in search of her boyfriend, finding him laying in bed with Mason, doing everything he could to get some sort of response from the almost two year old. “I’m sorry,” she started, crawling up onto the bed with them. “There’s a lot I’m frustrated about and I took it out on you. Forgiven?”

“Forgiven,” Finn nodded. “And I’m sorry too. I should have listened to what you were saying rather than drawing my own conclusions. Forgiven?”

“Forgiven.”

“Do you want to tell me what you’re frustrated about? Or would you rather move on and create a new routine for Mase?”

“It’s my family…” she sighed.

Finn held back on rolling his eyes. “Of course it is… What happened in the perfect Parker household this time?”

“Danny’s talking up a storm. Erica and Scott are planning their anniversary trip to Mexico or Europe or something.”

“And they asked about Mason?”

“Only to compare their two grandsons.”

“Well, I’ll take potty-training whiz over talkative anyday.”

Vanessa laughed at that. Mason had taken very quickly to potty-training, whereas her nephew, Daniel, showed no interest. “Yeah, Mom said we even woke up from our nap dry.”

“Great job, buddy!” Finn beamed at the small boy who was watching his parents intently. “You just want your words to count, huh? Too smart to waste time on nonsense babbling. Right?”

There was a twinge of fear in his last word as he looked over at Vanessa worriedly. She quickly nodded her head. “Of course. Man of few words, aren’t you, sweet boy?”

“You’re a great mom, Ness,” Finn said softly, reaching out to rub his thumb over the back of her hand.

“And you’re a great dad. We did everything right. Mason just is who he is and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Exactly.”

While the words were right, it did little to soothe either of their raging thoughts. Thoughts about if they were doing right by their little boy. If they were doing right by each other. The smile they gave each other was weak and forced, and the way their fingers interlaced was far more out of instinct than anything else. They were running on fumes, they just didn’t know how to let go for fear of shattering the other one more than they were already shattered.

Finn told his mother about it one afternoon when he picked up Mason on a day Vanessa had to stay late at the office. “I love her. I do. I know I do. But… we haven’t been us in a long time. We’re fighting more. And I thought at first that it was just a rough patch. But…”

“But you’re both focused on Mase. And as much as you love him he’s a handful. Children require a lot of our attention. And it’s easy to lose track of other things. And it’s no one’s fault.”

“But I still love her.”

“No one’s denying that, sweetheart But, you can still love someone without actually being in love with them anymore.”

“I failed her, Mom… we’re not supposed to end like this.”

“Finn… listen very carefully to what I’m about to say. Some people aren’t meant to be together forever. There’s no shame in that. It doesn’t mean the relationship failed. It doesn’t even mean that the relationship was wrong or that the feelings weren’t real. People fall out of love and that’s okay. This isn’t ending your relationship with Ness. It’s just closing the romance chapter and starting the parenting one.”

“But I’m not ready to fall out of love with her…” he cried. “I don’t want this to be a chapter. It’s supposed to be the book.”

“Then try,” she encouraged. “Go out on a date. Get out of your heads and roles as parents and just be Finn and Vanessa again for a night. See if that helps. If it does, then keep doing that for yourselves every now and then. And if it doesn’t…”

“Then I have to let her go…”

“You have to let each other both go,” she corrected lightly. “It doesn’t mean you love each other any less. But you both deserve to be in love with someone, so you’re not doing anyone any favors keeping each other from that. You don’t want to wake up one day and resent Vanessa anymore than you want her to wake up one day and resent you. You’ve built a beautiful life together. And you can keep doing that. You just might have to change how that looks is all.”

“C-can you watch Mase on Saturday for us?”

“Of course, sweetheart. He can even spend the night.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

~~~

The night started out really nice. Finn felt himself smiling brighter than he had in a long while at the excitement in Vanessa’s eyes he’d missed seeing. But as the night wore on, the guilt sank in and so did the undeniable feeling that they just didn’t work anymore. Still, they couldn’t bring themselves to end their last night of pretending, dragging the moment into the wee hours of the next morning.

“You know I’m always gonna love you, right?” he asked, savoring holding her against him one last time.

“I know,” she nodded her head against his chest. “We’d do it all over again, right?”

“In a heartbeat.” His voice was soft and she felt a tear splash in her hair. “You’ve given me so much, Ness. I know it’s probably cheesy to say, but I’m a better man for having known you.”

“You’ve made me a better woman, and have given me just as much. You gave me a family.”

“We’re still family. I’m not going anywhere. We’re still a team. I still love you.”

“I know.” She kissed her way up his chest. “The only thing changing is that we’re no longer physically together. We didn’t give up on us. We’re making us better. Better people to each other, and better parents to our son.”

“Exactly. And hey, promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Find someone.”

“Only if you promise to find someone too.”

“Pinky swear,” he nodded. They interlocked their pinkies, giving their fingers a quick kiss, sealing the deal. “No regrets.”

“Not a single one. I love you, Finn.”

“I love you too, Ness.”

__

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[isidar-mithrim]

A new beginning

While Ron and Hermione are in Australia, Neville and Harry are about to begin their career as Aurors, the raw memories of the battle still fresh in their minds, among some happy thoughts.

{Written for the second weekly prompt on the Hinny Discord: “Think about a teacher who inspired you. What would you say to them if they walked through the door right now?”}

[Read on Ao3]

Edit: I forgot to copy here my thanks! So, many thanks to @glisseowrites for betaing <3 Goes without saying that any residual errors is her fault :P

And also thanks to Flo for spotting the misuse of ‘Minister’ ^^

___________________________________

Neville recognised him right away, his unruly black hair unmistakable even from the further corner of the cafe.

Harry let his gaze roam around the room and Neville waved a hand, nodding in salute when Harry spotted him and walked towards the table.

Grinning, Neville stood up to clap on his shoulder.  “Morning.”

“Hello, Nev,” Harry greeted him, taking a seat on the stool in front of him. “Ginny says hi too.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t expected her name to come up so soon (or at all, actually). “Well, er… thanks. So, does that mean you two…”

As Neville trailed off, Harry’s eyes went wide, a light blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Sorry,” said Neville hastily, cursing himself for making him uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t have asked, it’s none of my b–”

“No, it’s ok,” said Harry, raising a hand. “We, er... yeah... we’re good.”

Neville beamed. “That’s great. I knew you’d be.”

“Really?”

“Of course! She missed you a lot, at Hogwarts. Not that she ever admitted it out loud, obviously, but…” He shrugged. “We could tell.”

“Oh…” mumbled Harry, rubbing his scar absentmindedly. “That’s…”

He swallowed, clearly at a loss for words, and Neville felt a wave of affection for his friend.

“You really deserve it,” he said earnestly. “Both of you do.”

Harry’s lips were tugged into a coy smile. “Thanks, Nev. And… for what it’s worth… I’m sorry I –”

“Hello, guys. What can I get you?”

They both turned their heads towards the waitress, a very cute woman whose blonde plaits reminded Neville of Hannah’s.

“Er… coffee, for me,” said Harry. “And a treacle tart. Thanks.”

The waitress beamed at him. “You’re welcome.”

She seemed quite taken by Harry’s striking green eyes, noticed Neville with amusement. He had to clear his throat to get her attention, biting back a smile when the girl jolted in surprise, blushing.

“And for you?” she asked, her voice a bit higher than before.

“A slice of Victoria sponge and a cup of tea, please.”

“Perfect, I’ll be right back. Call me if you’d like to order anything else, I’ll leave you the menus.”

Neville didn’t miss the soft smile she gave to Harry before walking away.

“She’d be really upset to know you’re already taken,” he teased when she was out of earshot.

Harry blinked at him, bemused. “You mean the waitress?”

Neville tried not to laugh. “Who else? And to think she doesn’t even know you’ve just saved the world!”

“She was just being nice,” mumbled Harry, suddenly very interested in the menu.

“Yeah, you tell Ginny that,” said Neville with glee. “Merlin’s beard, witches from all over the planet are going to be desperate when they hear the news.”

Harry looked up, his expression sheepish. “Er, about that… we, erm… well, we’d prefer to keep it quiet, this time. You know, at least until things are a bit more settled.”

“Oh. Sure.” Neville privately suspected that that had a lot to do with Harry and much less to do with Ginny, but he certainly wasn’t going to address that. “I understand.”

“I mean, her family knows, and it’s not like we’re keeping it a secret, so I’m not asking you to lie for us or anything like that, but…”

Neville smirked. “But no more kisses in the middle of the common room.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Harry had spoken in a deadpan tone, but he was smiling. “Just… don’t shout it around, will you?”

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I was only planning to tell Rita Skeeter,” he assured him, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Harry, on the other hand, looked at him with a grave expression. “I mean it, Nev. Not even around the office.”

When Neville realised the implication of those words, his amusement faded away. “You think we can’t trust the others?”

“Most of them stayed there, did they?” Harry shrugged, resigned. “How can we know if they were sabotaging the Ministry from the inside, playing along, or right down helping them?”

Neville sighed. “We can’t,” he conceded. “But…”

He fell silent when he spotted the waitress coming back, and a moment later she arrived with a loaded tray balanced on one hand.

“Here we are,” she said, looking pointedly at Neville. “The Victoria sponge and the tea were for you, right?”

When he nodded, she took his order from the tray and laid it carefully on the table. Only then she finally locked her blue eyes with Harry’s, a dazzling smile brightening her beautiful face.

“So, the treacle tart and the coffee must be for you.”

Harry swallowed, awkwardly flattening his hair. “Er, yeah. Thanks.”

“Wonderful. Please, call me if you need anything else.”

Neville added milk to his tea and stirred it, forcing himself to stay impassive, but as soon as the waitress was far enough, he grinned at Harry, who rolled his eyes in response.

“She’s just being nice, eh?”

“Shut up,” muttered Harry, grabbing a sugar cube and throwing it at him.

Neville barked a laugh. “Tell me, how many marriage proposals have you received so far?”

Harry narrowed his eyes, looking unexpectedly pensieve with his coffee hanging in mid air. “None, actually,” he admitted, his tone perplexed.

Neville shot him an amused glance. “Aren’t you a bit young for that, anyway?”

Harry rolled his eyes again, but his lips twitched. “I was just wondering if someone at the Ministry is checking my mail or, well, intercepting it.” He took a sip of coffee. “I haven’t got a letter since forever.”

“Oh.” Neville thought of the bunch of letters he had received from his parents’ old friends to congratulate him. A couple of them were still in the Aurors, and that made him realise he ought to resume the conversation that the arrival of their order had interrupted. “That’s… weird, I guess.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll ask Kingsley to have a look into it. Who knows, maybe it was something organised by the Order so the Ministry wouldn’t find me.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Neville, who felt like they had more pressing topics to discuss. He blew on his tea and took a long sip. “Look, about what you were saying before… My gran mentioned a couple of Aurors that were friends with my parents, so I’d like to think we can trust them.” He tried not to take Harry’s mildly skeptical expression too personally. “And about the rest… I know it’s no excuse, but lots of people in the Ministry had kids or nephews or even grandkids at Hogwarts, and… believe me, that means they weren’t exactly in the position to oppose the Ministry.”

Harry sent him an odd glance, and Neville wondered if he was thinking about Ginny’s dad as well. He waited in silence and took another sip of tea, suspecting Harry needed a bit of time to sort out his thoughts.

“Earlier, when you said that… that Ginny missed me… I was meaning to say... just, you know…” He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his coffee. “I’m very sorry I wasn’t there.”

Neville lowered his mug, staring at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not.” Harry had spoken firmly, and for a moment he looked again like he was carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders. “What you went through… It must have been awful.”

“It was,” said Neville matter-of-factly. From the way Harry raised his eyebrows, he could tell he was taken aback. “One more reason for you not to be there, the way I see it. And in all honesty, I think we were better off without you.” He grinned. “Troubles always seem to follow you.”

Harry chuckled, and Neville felt quite pleased for cheering him up.

“And yet you want to work with me,” said Harry with a lighter tone, his lips curved upwards. “Doesn’t seem so wise, does it?”

“Not at all,” said Neville, still grinning. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Harry huffed with humour. “Suit yourself, then, but don’t hold it against me if you’ll end up with a weird scar on your forehead.”

“’Course I will,” he said cheerfully. “It’s clearly your fault if I’ve been asked to join.”

Harry raised his mug towards him in mock salute, smiling. “You’re welcome.”

Neville mirrored him, clinking their mugs together.

“I mean it, though,” he pressed after sipping his tea, more serious. “I wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for you. You know that, right?”

Harry’s stunned expression was answer enough. “I…” He swallowed. “You would have done that too. Lots of people would have.”

Neville shook his head. “I wasn’t speaking about that,” he said gently, and Harry seemed even more puzzled. “I meant the D.A.”

“The D.A.?”

“You see, I never thought I had it in me to be an Auror… to follow my parents’ steps. It seemed like an impossible dream, one I barely allowed myself to dwell on... and then you started the D.A.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Harry decisively. “It was all Hermione’s idea, she was the one who –”

“It was you who taught us, though.” Neville looked at him into the eyes, his chin held up.  “And look at us now.”

Harry lowered his gaze to his plate and began cutting the slice of treacle tart in little pieces. “I made all of you believe that… that everybody had to fight, that it’d be cowardly not to do it, that…”

Neville felt a surge of deep compassion for his old friend and his unfair, aching guilt. “You gave us hope,” he said fiercely. “You made us survive.”

“Not all of you,” Harry murmured, so low that Neville almost didn’t catch it. His head was still bent, but Neville noticed his hard blinking nonetheless, and he felt a heavy knot clenching around his heart.

“Colin wasn’t your fault, Harry. If anything, I was the one to call him back. To call everybody back.”

“Only because I was there.”

Neville sighed. He felt like he was fighting a lost cause, but he owed Harry that much. “I promise you this year would have been even worse, without the D.A.”

“At least people would have stayed out of trouble,” muttered Harry, twirling his mug between his hands.

“Would they really, though? Because I clearly remember you saying you couldn’t have done it without all of us, after the battle. Bit pointless to stay out of trouble if you-know — sorry, if Voldemort would have won.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth. “I…”

“I know it’s hard on you,” said Neville. “But… I guess I like to believe that most of us would have stayed and fought anyway, even if the D.A. had never existed.”

Harry didn’t look so persuaded, and Neville decided there was only one way to pull him out of his own head.

“You know, it’s a bit rude of you to think we wouldn’t have,” he said provocatively.

As predicted, Harry’s head immediately jerked up: he looked half horrified, half mortified. “I… I didn’t mean… That’s not what I… I’d never… I’m just...” He took a deep breath, rubbing his scar again. “I’m not undermining what you did, Nev. That’s… the last thing I want, actually. I promise.”

“Yeah,” nodded Neville. “I know.”

“I meant what I said the other day. I’ll make sure people hear about you all.”

“I know you will.”

“I’m just…” He shrugged, letting out a breath. “I guess what I wanted to say is, I’m sorry I dragged you in all that.”

“Funny,” said Neville, “because I’m glad you did.”

Harry looked at him in disbelief. “Don’t say that,” he admonished, his voice sharp.

Neville ignored him. “I’m glad I could fight beside you. I’m glad I could help. I’m glad you asked me to kill the snake, even if -”

“You shouldn’t be!” said Harry, frustration blatant in his voice. “Can’t you see it? You shouldn’t have had to endure all this!”

“You shouldn’t have either.”

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” bit back Harry.

“I know,” said Neville, placatingly. “And I’m sorry.”

Harry seemed taken aback by those words, and Neville wondered if he’d been the first person to tell him that. “But… even when I had the chance, I don’t think I could have chosen anything different either, you know? And if I’ve been able to outlive the consequences of that choice, it’s only thanks to your lessons. It’s only thanks to you.” He thought of the Chocolate Card tucked in the front pocket of his shirt, alongside the D.A. coin and the Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum wrapping his gran had sent him with her pride. “You’re the first person that really believed in me. The first to think I was worth something.” He thought of those meaningful words heard years before, words he’d never forgotten… words he’d never forget. You’re worth twelve of him.

“Blimey, Neville,” said Harry in a hoarse voice. With his eyes shut and his fingers pushing up the glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, he looked at the same time incredibly young and years older than he was. It was odd to think they were born just one day apart.

“You know,” said Neville with a conversational tone, trying to spare Harry the embarrassment of acknowledging his words properly, “when we talked with Kingsley I realised that the only time I’ve been in the Ministry before then, was the day I went with you.”

“Oh. Right.”

Harry didn’t seem as relieved as he had hoped. A moment later, Neville realised with horror why: that was the day Sirius Black had died.

Unable to stand that awkward silence, Neville started rambling. “That… that was the first moment I thought ‘Hey, maybe I have what it takes to be an Auror, after all’; then of course my marks weren’t good enough, but… it was nice, to feel like… like I could have been.”

“You can be, Neville. You are.”

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah… I guess I am. Life is weird, eh?”

“It is,” agreed Harry. He checked his watch, and Neville threw him a questioning glance.

“We’ve still got twenty minutes before we have to go,” Harry reassured him, taking a sip of coffee.

“What about you, then?” asked Neville. “Have you always known you wanted to be an Auror?”

Harry looked pensieve for a moment. “Remember when you said life is weird?”

Neville put down his mug, nodding.

“Well… I didn’t even know that Aurors existed, until Moody. He’s the first Auror I’ve heard of, and he – the fake one, I mean – was the first to tell me that I’d –” He frowned. “Are you okay, Nev?”

Only then Neville realised he was holding his breath, his jaw clenched. He exhaled, relaxing the hand he had clamped around the mug handle. “Yeah,” he murmured, taking a bite of cake to buy some time. He chewed in silence, his blood pulsing in his ears, his mind going back to the awful day McGonagall had told him who had taken Professor Moody’s place.

“Shit,” blurted Harry. He was looking at him with wide eyes, comprehension written on his features. “I’m sorry, Neville, I shouldn’t have mentioned him. I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay. I forgot about your godfather, did I?”

“Oh. Well, that’s not...”

Neville offered him a sheepish smile. “What if we call it even and leave it at that?”

“Sure,” said Harry hastily, shoving a piece of treacle tart in his mouth.

Neville took his lead and busied himself with his Victoria sponge, but he couldn’t stop dwelling about what Harry had said. To think that Barty Crouch had somehow inspired both of them was unsettling, but it was also oddly comforting to know he hadn’t been the only one to be fooled.

“He was also the first to acknowledge I was good in Herbology,” admitted Neville in a low voice. Against his expectations, Harry didn’t look so surprised.

“You already knew?”

Harry nodded, his face grim. “That book about aquatic plants... He gave it to you because he thought I’d ask for your help for the Second Task.”

Neville stared at him, his stomach squirming unpleasantly. He had never felt as used as he was feeling now, but in a way it was almost a relief to know that Crouch hadn’t taken him under his wing just for mere sadism.

Harry swallowed, looking anywhere but at him. “I’m very sorry I didn’t ask for your help, back then. It was very stupid of me.”

And of course Harry had to blame himself for that too.

Neville smiled kindly. “It’s water under the bridge, now. You made it up for it plenty enough.”

Harry didn’t look too convinced, but he gave him a weak nod. “Can I ask you something?”

“’Course.”

“You said Crouch was the first to recognise your talent in Herbology, but… what about Sprout?”

“Oh, well… I reckon she had always been pleased with my work, yeah, but I don’t think I ever thought I was good enough to make a career of it, before… before Crouch said he believed I could.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, looking perplexed and surprised at the same time. “I thought you wanted to be an Auror.”

“I didn’t really believe I could, back then, did I? But now things are different, now I know I can actually give a hand, and since Kingsley is asking for all the help he can get…”

It was weird to say out loud what he had kept repeating to himself for the past few days. He believed all of that, truly, but a part of him secretly wondered if the real reasons he was doing it was a different one.

I’m very proud of you, Neville. Your parents will be too.

“What did they do?” he blurted out.

Harry blinked at him, confused, and Neville felt his neck grew hot.

“Er… your parents, I meant.” He cleared his throat. “What did they do for a living?”

Harry was startled, his green eyes wide behind the round lenses.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it,” Neville hurried to add, fearing he had overstepped.

Harry slowly lowered his fork. “I… I don’t really know, to be honest.”

Neville really hadn’t seen that coming. It felt like a punch in his gut.

“I think they… they just joined the Order, after Hogwarts. I guess… I guess they thought they could start working after Voldemort had fallen...”

After that awkward confession, they stayed silent for a bit, eating their food and dwelling on their parents’ cruel destiny.

For once, it was Harry to break the ice.

“My mum was a good potioneer,” he said out of the blue. “Slughorn was very fond of her. I… I like to imagine she’d have been a good teacher, I think.”

Neville almost joked that she would have surely been better than Snape, but he remembered just in time that Harry had gotten a bit protective of their old professor.

“I’m sure she’d have been,” he said instead, smiling. “I bet you took it from her, you were great in the D.A.”

“Oh… thanks, Nev.”

“Have you ever considered becoming D.A.D.A. professor, one day?”

“Nah, I reckon I’ve already taken too many risks in my life. I much prefer the Aurors survival rates.”

Neville chortled, humored. “If there’s one person that can survive teaching that class, that’s got to be you, Harry.” He smirked. “Imagine how famous you’d become if you could last more than one year.”

Harry huffed, shaking his head in amusement, then he seemed to realise something, because he frowned, pensieve. “You know what, I actually think things might be different from now on. It was Voldemort who cursed it. He wanted it for himself, but Dumbledore refused.”

Neville froze in the act of biting a piece of cake.  “He wanted to teach?”

Harry nodded, his expression dark. “Insane, eh?”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, after sitting through Carrow’s lessons,” said Neville grimly.

Harry sighed. “I guess not.” He checked his watch again. “Time to leave, I reckon.”

They both stood up, and Neville insisted on paying, knowing Harry was still sorting things out with Gringotts (and with the blonde waitress). “Help me with this sodding paper money, though. I’ve no idea how Muggles manage not to rip them up.”

Afterward, they headed out of the cafe, walking towards the Ministry.

“For what it’s worth,” said Harry, “I reckon you’d be a great teacher too.”

“Me?”

“Of course.” Harry looked nonplussed. “Kids would love you. But…” He took a deep breath. “I’m truly glad we’re in this together.”

Neville felt really touched by his words. Ignoring the lump in his throat, he gave him a proud nod. “I’ll watch your back, Harry.”

“I know,” he said, and Neville would have sworn Harry was a bit touched as well.

“Let’s hope there’ll be no need, anyway.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry I worried you with my paranoia, but Ron isn’t here, and…”

“I’m not worried, Harry,” said Neville earnestly. “I’m with you.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot upwards. “I…” He swallowed, at a loss for words yet again, and Neville waited patiently.

“Thank you,” said Harry eventually, his voice raspy. “For... everything.”

Neville nodded, and after a couple of steps a cheery thought struck him. He bit back a smile. “You know who we won’t have to worry about?”

“Who?”

“Dawlish,” he said with a smirk. “He’s still at St. Mungo’s. My gran can’t stop bragging about it.”

Harry laughed out loud, and they walked forward with matching grins, a new beginning waiting ahead.

[certifiedskywalker]

Academic Misgivings (Part 6) - Peter Parker

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemies either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you. He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

Thanks for following this series so far! This is where the story starts to get busy in regards to Peter Remember, 250 notes for the next part! Have a fun read!

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE 

The grip of morning grogginess still held tight to you as you walked into the school. A chill had fallen over New York so cold that not even your sweatshirt could quite quell it on your walk from home. Just as you neared the doors of Midtown High, just when you were about to be welcomed by the heat of it’s walls, the unmistakable, uppity nasal pitch of Flash Johnson’s voice reached your ears. At least you would have the flame of your annoyance to warm you.

“Y/N! Wait up! Hold on!” With a pout you waited by the door and shifted your weight on your feet in a poor attempt to generate your own bubble of heat. Flash rushed up to you with a grin on his face. “Any progress?”

“What? What do you mean?” Your tone was snappy, eager to escape the unkind cold. Autumn’s grip on the city was loosening, giving way to Winter.

“With Parker? Anything?” At the mention of Peter’s name, you stiffened. Images of your tutoring session the day before flashed before you, taunted you with your still unresolved feelings towards the boy. Peter had tried to comfort you, understand you, and that was more than anyone had done in a long time. More than your family had done since starting high school.

“Uh...no,” you replied and pushed open the doors to the school. The unwelcoming foyer still harbored some of the outside chill, but you felt instantly warmed as the door shut behind you. With a long breath you started towards the next set of doors when you felt a horrible rush of cold against your back. 

“No? You haven’t like, charmed him?” You spun on your heel and glared at Flash. Your proximity forced him to take a step back, visible fearful of your response.

“With what? My womanly wilds? This isn’t some cliche teen rom-com.” You muttered a curse under your breath and pushed open the next set of doors.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Flash praised as he trailed after you. The hallways of the school had began to fill with a rush of students meeting friends at their lockers. The area around yours was empty and you made a beeline to the small safe haven.

“I know I’m right, Flash,” you flung back at him, hoping your biting words would deter him from following you. Yet, to no avail. He rambled on at your side as you entered your combination.

“Yes, yes, it’s like a uh...spy movie! You’re sneaking around, dancing circles around him, gathering the intell. The perfect spy!” You sighed as you pulled your locker open. “So you should have his pass-code by now, right?”

“Flash,” you turned to him and leaned against the locker banks with a furiously flat expression. “If you are going to be this pushy, you can call this partnership kaput. Unless...you want to talk to Peter?” His dark brown eyes widened, eyebrows raised but still not grazing your expectations. 

“No, no,” he stepped back with hands raised, “I trust you. I gotch you, fam.” You gritted your teeth at his use of slang. If it couldn’t be used in an academic paper, you felt it was a lesser word; something your English teacher before Ms. Lauren had enforced. It didn’t help that Flash was trying to ‘be cool’ with you either.

“Okay then,” you said with arms crossed over your chest, “run along then?” Flash nodded and rushed off. He called over his shoulder as you watched him go, still annoyed.

“See you at practice!” Content with having torn away his confident facade, you returned your attention back to your locker. You plucked your book out of the compartment and shoved them in your bag rather roughly, too tired to care.

When you tried to sleep the night before, after the tutoring session with Peter, you had tossed and turned. Lack of sleep did not aid in your attitude, especially when Flash was involved. Thoughts of different realities, ones where you and Peter had grown up as neighbors or were close friends had filtered through your mind when your head hit the pillow like some sort of twisted, romantic fiction. Things could have been so different; you could be meeting him at his train stop and walking with him to school, chatting about anything that came to mind. You could be dating him.

You shivered at the thought but you couldn’t tell exactly why. All you knew was that you were jealous, bitter even, when it came to Peter Parker, maybe even angry. Yet, somehow, through whatever magic means, he could make you feel like you were walking on air. It sickened you, made you stomach work itself up into knots. 

The discomfort lingered when your mind stalled on Peter and it, that discomfort, had become a strange ally in the mess you had created with Flash. You only hoped once the plan was done, however it turned out, that the sense of nerves would leave you be. Until then, you would close your locker and act like everything was fine. Even when you accidentally lock eyes with Peter as you pass through the hall. You would return his wave and walk to class, wholly ignoring the burning that had bloomed in your cheeks. 

“That’s why I think the CIA knew Kennedy was going to die,” MJ finished, in the same tone in which she had detailed her theory. Mr. Harrington, mouth agape, had asked a decathlon practice question regarding JFK that had stirred MJ into ranting. The team, even Flash, remained quiet, all eyes trained on the curly haired girl as she sat back. “And if I’m not here tomorrow, they got me too.”

“W-Well...then...practice...adjourned,” Mr. Harrington stammered as he rubbed a hand against his head. Slowly, the team stood from their seats while MJ examined her nails nonchalantly, picking away some paint from her art class. You shook your head at her and smiled when she met your gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing, just...that was intense,” you replied. You shuffled out of your seat and grabbed your bag from the spot on the floor beside your feet.

“Yeah well, so is life,” MJ sighed and was ready to continue when someone behind you cleared their throat. You turned and saw Peter, a loose blue jacket hanging off of his slim shoulders that made his already bright brown eyes all the more puppy-like.

“Are you ready to head out or…”

“I have more theories,” MJ interjected and you glanced over your shoulder.

“Um, maybe another time, MJ, okay?” She nodded in response and you looked back to Peter. “Alright, let’s go.”

You followed Peter out of the school’s library in a rather comfortable silence that was broken when MJ was safely out of earshot. Peter glanced at you with still wide eyes and you raised your eyebrows at him in a silent question.

“MJ’s kinda scary, right? It’s not just me?” You ‘tsked’ and shook your head as you both walked down the hall towards the school’s main exit. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” you mused aloud, “she’s just...eccentric.” Peter nodded and you caught the hints of a smile on his lips. 

“Uh so, the coffee shop?” Peter said, although it sounded more like a question as he pushed open the school’s main door. He held it open for you, a gesture that made part of stomach twinge with giddiness. 

“Yeah?” You questioned as Peter fell back into step at your side. 

“Have you ever been inside? I hear some of the girls at school talking about it. Apparently they have like fancy drinks and stuff.” 

As Peter talked, his rather long steps would fumble and his shoulder would brush against yours. He rattled on about the shop as you crossed the street, but none of his words sunk in. You were much too distracted by the every-now-and-then touches. “Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do you even what a Pink Drink is?” Your brows furrowed and sensing you confusion, Peter smiled. “I was talking about Starbucks.”

“Oh, no, I don’t, at least I’m not sure. It’s not a decathlon question so,” Peter let out a laugh and you felt your skin go so warm it dulled the afternoon chill. 

“That’s a fair point,” he beamed, “oh, hold on. Let me get that.” He rushed past you and opened yet another for you. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit your nose but it did little to pull your thoughts from Peter’s acts of kindness.

“Th-Thanks,” you murmured and stepped inside only to be hit fully by the aroma of java. The coffee shop was quaint, painted in dark blues with oak detailing on tabletops that would make it look more like a custom movie set if it weren’t for the customers. 

A few scattered, circular tables with metal chairs held small succulent plants that, in this weather, had to be fake. Surrounding the tables were booths, one with a mother and her children who happily devoured cookies triple the size of their small hands. One of the children seemed transfixed on the hanging pendant lamps above the table that gave off a slightly yellowed glow. If it hadn’t been for the bell on the door jiggling behind you, you too would have joined in on the moth-like fascination.

“Hey, Y/N, do you want anything?” You turned around and saw Peter pulling his wallet from his pocket. Under the natural glow of the lights, Peter’s brown hair looked sandy and his features enticingly more soft. Even the golden amber fleck in his irises shown a little more delicately. “Y/N?”

“Um, no, I’m good. I’ll find a table.” You ducked your head to hide your burning cheeks. He had caught you staring at him and you knew that he knew it. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you did with him. 

You passed by the booth of bustling, unruly children and their haggard looking mother to a table tucked away in the corner. When you pulled the rather heavy metal chair out from the table top, the leg released a grunt of their own. The sound didn’t seem to entirely annoy the other patrons of the cafe so, with a calming heart rate, you unpacked your tutoring materials. Just as you pulled out your worn and worked trivia textbook, Peter came into view.

“I got you a cookie,” he said, setting down a plate with two gooey looking, homemade cookies. “The menu said ‘not-so-chocolate-chip’ so it might be vegan?” His face screwed up with thought as he took the seat across from you. With a shy smile at you, Peter set the mug in his other hand down too before it could slip through his sweater paws.

“Oh, you didn’t have to-” you cut yourself off, “thanks, Peter.” The shy smile turned sweet, sweet enough to rot your teeth if you didn’t look away. “So, do you want to focus on any area of questions in particular or….”

Peter took a swift sip of what looked like hot chocolate which, judging by his face, was much too hot to drink. “I uh, I looked at the site you recommended and went through like a bunch of literature questions so anything other than that would be cool.”

“Alright,” you cracked open your textbook to a random page. “Science good with you?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Peter said before he blew on the brew in his mug. It was childishly endearing and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread to your lips. 

“Who was the first woman to win a Nobel Prize 1903 and in what field?” You could see the gears in Peter’s mind working before he lifted his widened eyes to you in a slight panic.

“Marie Curie, physics,” he took a breath, “I don’t know why I blanked on that one.”

“It’s okay,” you grin, “even geniuses have their day.” You didn’t really mean for the words to come out so bitterly, but when you glanced at Peter’s face, you saw that it must have sounded rude. “Uh...What is the term for a product of a body's mass, including its linear velocity?”

“Momentum,” he said quickly, brown eyes scanning over your features. “Y/N are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied plainly as you flipped a page of the book, “which famous, billionaire philanthropist created-”

“Do you ...you don’t like me, do you?” His question gave you pause and silence when you saw true curiosity in his eyes. You swallowed hard and tried to suss out your tangled feelings in that very second; the same feelings that had been keeping you up at for the past three nights. There was no hope, so you continued on as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Which famous, billionaire philanthropist funded the building of Jupiter’s most iconic landing vehicles?” Peter was quiet and when you looked up from the textbook, you realized it was a selective silence. “You know this one,” you pressed, “you work for him.”

“Tony Stark,” he murmured, so lowly it sent a shiver down your spine. “C-can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You repeated, a lump forming in your throat. You could feel every emotion, every thought and doubt you had ever held inwards bubble up your throat en mass. Despite your fiery, biting tone, Peter still looked at you with those eyes with that effortless gaze that made your stomach twist.

“Yeah,” he replied and you wondered if he understood your anger. He must have; it was written all over your face. You yourself could feel the tips of your ears warmed, hands curled into fists so tight that the wounds from the Chicago trip ached with memory. 

“I-I…” A wave of coldness, not unlike the chills from the morning air washed over you. Drowned in thoughts you could no longer ignore, once foggy emotion filled your ears until you could hear nothing but your own truth and the beat of your heart. 

“Y/N,” only Peter’s voice broke through the haze and you hated it. “I told you on the bus home that you could talk to me.” his brown eyes, the ones you had hardened yourself against for years; the ones you had thought you hated for so long now studied you with a gentleness you had never felt or seen before. 

“What’s wrong is,” you took a breath and tore your eyes away from Peter’s. “When I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted and it makes angry. Or made me angry, I’m not sure anymore but here I am, tutoring you like nothing is wrong.”

“I make,” you glanced at him wearily, “made, you angry?”

“Because...because I was scared.” The feeling, that intestine twisting, heart aching feeling put to words in a single breath. It felt too easy, too simple, but there it was. Out there for Peter to see.

“Scared...of me?” His brows furrowed and you squeezed your eyes shut in exasperation.

“No,” you shook your head and hands, “not you. Just of...what could have been if things were different.” The last word tasted salty, overcooked in the crock-pot of your brain or over seasoned by self hatred; it was too charred to tell. “Sorry, that was stupid I-”

“You mean what still could be,” Peter interrupted. You opened your mouth to speak but his tone, the kind that an authority might use to talk to some untamed youth, stole the words off your tongue. 

“I…” Peter gave you a half smile, barely there at all but you saw it nonetheless. 

“Mr. Stark has taught me a lot of things but one thing he taught me a little while ago was that...you are more than what’s under the mask.”

“Mask?” Peter’s eyes widened for a moment but he quickly collected himself. 

“It’s uh..it’s a metaphor. Anyway, sometimes that means you’re more than what you think you are or believe you are. If you think that you’re...you’re-”

“Unworthy, inadequate” you whispered, but Peter seemed to hear it because he paused. You lifted your gaze slightly, “for lack of a better word, I guess.”

“Okay, you think you’re inadequate with who you are now,” he continued, “but you are so much more. You just have to have someone, or something, to show you that you’re not. That like...all you want, it’s possible. You just have to look.”

While you were spilling your guts out to the person you had considered your opposition for years, the din of the coffee shop had disappeared. Now, in the resounding stillness of your conversation with Peter, you were shocked as you noticed no one seemed to hear anything of what you had said. It was a comfort alongside Peter’s advice, but it left you with one feeling you couldn’t share: gulit. Peter’s kindness made you sick in some other way now, the kind that riddled you with regret and Flash’s voice in your ear that whispered ‘sabotage’.

“That’s…” you started but had no clue how to finish, “that’s...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Peter consoled. You studied his expression, looked for some hint of suspicion in his dark honeyed eyes; some ulterior motive in the small smile on his pink lips. There had to be something, something you could use to comfort yourself, to tell yourself you weren’t wrong for plotting against him. There wasn’t. 

“Well, I ruined our tutoring session,” you mumbled softly but Peter shook his head. The motion sent his chestnut colored hair, normally styled in some fashion, to a more wild, natural-looking state of slight-curl. 

“No, you didn’t, I brought it up, I pushed it. He leaned back in his chair shyly, “and..m-maybe I can tutor you now?”

“Tutor me?”

“On..how to see yourself,” he elaborated. “I want to help you.”

“Careful,” you teased in the hopes of lightening the mood, “say that enough and you’ll end up being Spiderman.” 

“Oh! Haha, that’s uh ...that's funny. I wouldn’t though, superheroes right? They must be like crazy or something.” You couldn’t help the slight grin that spread along your lips as Peter melted into a puddle of jumbled words. How could he go from wonderful advice giver to stuttering mess within mere seconds? It might never make sense to you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you pondered before a new thought, one that gave you a brief reprieve from the trouble swirling about your mind, came up. “Did you give him my note?”

“Spiderman? Oh, yeah, he-he got it. No worries. His reddened cheeks and goofy smile lightened your mood as your minor worry was put to ease. Peter sipped at his, what was now most likely, lukewarm hot chocolate and you looked back to your book. In your lap rested your hands where they restlessly played with each other’s fingers in the tense silence.

“So...how are you going to tutor me? Are you going to be my life coach?” Peter like out a breathy laugh and he made a strange face. 

“Well, uh no, not a coach. I mean...we could….you need to know there’s more to you so we can try a bunch of different things.” You raised an apprehensive brow and Peter frowned.

“Like we’re trying to find a secret talent?” 

“No, not like that but...sort of, I guess?” He scratched the back of his neck and hummed in thought, a habit he must have learned from someone. “We’re going to look for opportunities rather than wait for them, if-if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, I think it does.” You smiled and Peter mirrored the expression with all the more sweetness; to the point it made you heart skip a beat. Now all you had to do was look for the opportunity to tell Flash you could no longer go through with the plan.

“Oh crap.”

“What is it?”

“It’s getting late and if I’m late to dinner again, Aunt May might actually turn into the Hulk.” You glanced out the window and saw the darkened sky. The gross grey color pulled a frown to you lips as you turned back and met Peter’s gaze.

“I guess it is late,” you agreed softly, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s alright,” Peter stood from his chair and began to collect his things. “I’m sure your parents are worried about you too. We can study more tomorrow.” 

You let out a scoff and shook your head. “I don’t think anyone is home to care.”

Peter cocked his head at your words and you realized how grim you had sounded. However, it was a sad truth if the nights prior were anything to go by. Before you could cover up, spill some white lie to sedate the concern on Peter’s face, he beat you to the punch.

“Do you wanna eat dinner with me?” The question sounded innocent and knowing Peter, it mostly likely was, yet it rendered you speechless anyway. “Well, I mean, my Aunt and I. You’re probably like super busy studying but I just thought that maybe-”

“I would like that.” Your reply seemed to catch Peter off guard. His book bag hung loosely in his grip as he looked at you with slightly widened eyes. For a split second you thought that maybe, like you had with his original suggestion of dinner, he was reading into your words. 

“Ok, cool,” a steady smile, the one you had grown to know too well spread across his face.

“It could be the first tutoring session for me,” you said, hoping to cut through the air that had gathered thickly around the two of you. You packed up your books, shoved them deep in your bag and stood on somewhat shaky legs. You had been sitting with Peter for hours. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Peter gushed as he picked up the plate of long ago eaten cookies, “May will not let you leave the house until you’re full of compliments.”

“Not food?” You asked, a small giggle in your voice that seemed to deepen Peter’s smile.

“I mean, she’s an adventurous cook but sometimes,” you followed Peter as he dropped off the plate in the dish bin on the cafe’s main counter, “it doesn’t turn out.”

“It isn’t good?” You asked as you both made your way towards the door. Peter smiled again, a bit more nervously this time. 

“Sometimes it isn’t edible.” You laughed and stepped out into the chilled evening air of New York. “Queen is a train ride away. Fourth stop on the main loop.” He gestured towards the train way entrance where a large map was displayed out front. “Are you sure you don’t need to be home?”

“I’m sure,” you answered confidently, the first time you had done so since you had talked to Peter regularly. With a pleased smile, Peter started towards the train way awning with a little jump in his step that made you wonder why you had let your own jealousy tarnish him in the first place. 

You followed him, through the ticket booths and machines, up the steps to the train platform. As Peter slipped his train pass back in a worn leather wallet, you eyed the other future passengers lingering on the awning. Tired looking men and women in business wear sat on rickety benches, immersed themselves in their phones while they waited. A tourist family was nose deep in a map as they bickered about location. 

“You ride the train everyday?” You turned your eyes to Peter to find him already looking at you. His brown eyes held your gaze before he nodded and pulled them away.

“To school and sometimes back.” You stepped closer to him with a quirked brow.

“Sometimes? What do you do on the other times?” Peter’s mouth fell open and promptly shut.

“I uh...walk...around the city, swing around,” he hesitates for a moment you cock your head. “It’s a good way to clear your head you know.”

“I wouldn’t,” you replied, arms crossed over your chest. “I go from home to school and back again. My own bubble, I guess.” You bit the inside of your cheek and wished you had stayed quiet. Sharing, especially with Peter, was still new to you.

“Really? Well then, there we go,” Peter grinned enthusiastically, “we can start tutoring you there. If you’re inside all the time just studying you’re not going to try things. It might help.”

“It’s-

“Train arriving in two minutes,” an automated voice interrupted. The headlights of the oncoming train grew larger and larger and your words filtered out from your mind. Glimmers of memories, studying and the urge to be better than Peter Parker had clouded your mind. That was how you had lived for three years. 

What would a past you have thought of you now, all buddy-buddy with your sworn enemy? Would she be confused or relieved that you weren’t so ...isolated? You imagined she would be, at least, hopeful. You were hopeful in the moment as you stepped through the open doors of the train car and sat next to Peter Parker.

Your legs knocked against his as he chatted with you about other ways he could get you to see other, better parts of yourself that you were too blinded to. Part of you still didn’t fully believe his speech, his belief in you. No one had believed in you like Peter before. 

“There’s like volunteer dog park where we can go and-”

“You’re really thinking about this,” you observed wryly. Your tone must have pressed something in Peter’s mind and he gave you a concerned look. 

“If you don’t, don’t wanna do this it’s okay, I’m just throwing things out there.”

“No, no,” you arched your body to face him, “I just...you’re eager. It’s surprising.” The racing of the train car against the tracks filled your ears and you wondered if Peter had heard you. His quiet wasn’t eery, but rather reflective.

“I mean, well, I enjoy spending time with you and you’re pretty cool,” he said, his voice barely audible over the clacking wheels. You responded with a half-hearted attempt at a smile before you averted your gaze towards the window. It all started to feel like too much, with everything, with Peter. Being honest with yourself had been a big step, a leap when you were truth with Peter.

Now it felt like you were floating on a cloud of your own nervous energy all the way from the train stop to the front door of the Parker’s apartment. The building on the outside looked like yours only in better shape that the complex you called home. The interior however, soothed you. Cream colored hallways gave off more comfort than the stoney, mottled grey you associated with your family’s apartment.

The old you would have hated such a comparison, even despised Peter for having a more home-like home. Now, the thought made you ache as he fiddled with the lock to open the door. It became more clear to you that Peter was not the issue; your own mindset was.  

“Now, when I left she said she was making dinner so,” Peter gave you a weary look as he twisted the door knob. “Just...be prepared for-”

A loud beeping, high pitched and ear piercing cut through Peter’s warning. In the most confident you had seen him, Peter threw open the door and rushed inside. Shocked for a moment by his instinct, you followed behind and was greeted by a sight that was downright cartoonish.

A small woman with tanned skin and dark brown hair, Peter’s Aunt May, stood before a smoking oven with a sheet pan in her hands. She waved the pan wildly and seemed to be directing the smoke out of a tiny window in the cramped kitchen. 

“I burnt the ham!” She shouted when Peter dove into the kitchen to grab an old newspaper. You rushed in after him and joined in on the maniac waving; the wild nature of which was only stirred up by the fire alarm’s screeching. “Who is this!?”

“Aunt May, Y/N. Y/N, this is Aunt May,” Peter’s introduction was poor under the loud noise but enough for the woman to stop waving the sheet pan to reach for you hand.

“Please, call me May,” she smiled, “Peter’s talked about you and his friends before. You’re close with the strange Michelle girl right?”

“May!” Peter was still waving and, with wide eyes, May continued to do so as well.

“Yeah, I am,” you yelled over the sound of flapping and beeping, “it’s nice to meet you!”

“And you too!” May shouted just as the fire alarm shut off. “Oof! That was loud!”

“Yeah, it was,” Peter said, a grin on his face as his Aunt’s voice was still at a higher volume. Even for the short period of time you had heard it, the alarm was still ringing in your ears.

“So….” May glanced between Peter and yourself, her cheek pinked from the waving. “Does take out sound okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter cheered and looked to you, “Italian, Thai, or Chinese?” 

“Italian,” you replied and felt your stomach gurgle in anticipation for food. 

“Oh, I like her,” May cooed as she picked up the phone, “we’re on the same frequency. Marko’s is the best spot in town. What do you like?”

After Aunt May had placed the order and a grand tour of the Parker’s ‘estate’ as she called it, you felt instantly at peace in their home. A year ago, you wouldn’t have dared to venture into Peter’s house but now you ogled at his room, decorated in all sorts of nerdy paraphernalia

“So you’re a Star Wars fan,” you mused aloud as you took in the sight of all of actions figures Peter had amassed that looked like they too were from the seventies. 

“Oh, y-yeah, they’re like really good movies,” Peter said as he darted to your side. You could feel his gaze on you as you studied the merchandise closely. Strange aliens faces and one furry, long legged creatures you believed was Chewbacca.

“I’ve never seen them,” you admitted, “my family doesn’t have movie nights or anything like that so they slipped under the radar.” A gasp at your side pulled your gaze to Peter. His mouth was agape, brown eyes as wide as saucers. 

“You haven’t seen the Star Wars movies?!”

“No….” you pursed your lips and gave Peter an incredulous look, “are they really that good?”

“Are they really that good! Ha!” He shook his head in disbelief and you couldn’t help but smile at his passion. “They’re better than good! We have to watch them sometime!”

You liked the way he said ‘we’ and how when the word leaped from the tip of his tongue, his eyes fell on your with all the softness you had ever seen in the world encapsulated.  You opened your mouth to speak, to give voice to how you hated that you hadn’t talked, truly talked to him sooner. Before you could however, May’s voice cut through your haze.

“Foods here!”

“Thank for this, May,” you said as you slipped a plate beside the sink. May was tucking rinsed utensils into the dishwasher, humming softly to herself as she did.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she huffed, “a friend of Peter’s is always welcome here. Especially after all you’re been through, sweetie.”

“Aunt May,” Peter grumbled through slightly gritted teeth. You raised a hand at him and gave the woman a tender smile. 

“Have you talked to someone about it? What happened in Chicago? I know a good therapist if you want to give that a try.” You shook your head and gave May a grateful glance.

“No, but I think I’m okay. I have Spiderman to thank for that,” you shot Peter a knowing smile, pleased that your note had made into the masked hero’s hands. Yet something about Peter’s expression was off. Slightly widened eyes that darted from you to his aunt, who also seemed a bit shaken, and his cheeks were red as if you had embarrassed him.

“Oh those heroes, they’re lifesavers, literally!” Aunt May laughed, loudly enough that you were pulled away from your wonderings. 

You helped Aunt May load the rest of the dishes while Peter cleaned up the table. For the first time in a long time, you felt as if you were part of a family. A sense of belonging that had evaded you for a long time finally welcomed you with open arms. So when May wiped her hands on a towel and glanced and the clock in the kitchen, you heart sank into a pool of dread.

“Wow, time flies huh? It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I guess I should be heading out.” As you turned around, you missed the sorry smile Aunt May wore as she watched you grab your things. 

“Thank you again, for dinner and having me,” you called as you stood idly by the door. Peter gave you a bright grin, one that twisted your stomach into knots.

“Anytime, Y/N,” May said as she entered the doorway the kitchen table. Her joyful glow was only amplified by the apartment’s soft yellow coloring, the same shade that reminded you of springtime and how much you did not want to go. “Peter, why don’t you walk Y/N home? Make sure she gets there all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Peter said and he leaned over, the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses as she opened the door. “You ready?”

You met his brown eyes and, without hesitation, nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

It was like deja vu, walking with Peter back to the train, sitting beside him so your legs brushed as you talked. He rattled on about Star Wars and you fired questions about the sci-fi society George Lucas had built.

“So it’s a Republic?”

“Well it was until Darth Vader helped The Emperor take over.” You gave him a puzzled look.

“The Emperor’s name is Emperor? So it’s Emperor Emperor?” Peter laughed, leaned his head back against the seat and shook his head. He turned, hair a mess from his position with cheery eyes.

“No, he has a name,” you gestured for him to tell you, “you have to watch it yourself.” You groaned and leaned back. The train jostled against the tracks and you could feel it through your entire body as you head rested against the wall. You turned, the same way Peter had, to look him in the eyes.

“How? I don’t have a DVD player and the TV is broken at my place.” Peter held your gaze and curled his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. You watched him and bit the inside of your cheek when you realized you were both just staring at each other.

“I have a digital copy of all of the movies so at the next tutoring session I can give them to you,” he suggested. “Or...you...you could come back over sometime? May likes you and I-I-”

Peter cut himself off and you felt your skin warm under his gaze. Brown eyes held your sole attention so strongly that you barely noticed the train come to a stop. 

“I would like that,” you replied in a soft voice. Peter smiled and lifted his head. 

“Oh crap, it’s your stop! Let’s go,” you both rushed up and towards the train doors as an automated voice prepared a countdown. The night air, even colder than the morning, greeted you and Peter with a vengeance. You hugged your sweatshirt close to your body and saw Peter do the same with his jacket. 

An easy silence fell over the two of you as you walked down the street. You dreaded the moment your apartment complex would come into your line of sight so you kept your eyes on the sidewalk. You shoes seemed small compared to Peter’s, although his red converse were scuffed up the sides. The shoes didn’t go with how you saw Peter: all pristine and put together to spite your own jealousy as you felt you could never live up to the standard he set.

Now, you felt your understood the rough and torn shoes, why Peter wore them. There was so much more to him than the boy you thought you knew. You felt comfortable with him, to your our surprise, enough so that you told him how you once hated him. He subverted every expectation when he didn’t shy away at that and instead, stayed. No one had stayed before. 

“Hey isn’t this your place?” Peter’s voice pulled your eyes to him then to the apartment complex on your left. It was, but you could see darkness in what was your family’s apartment window. No one was home, again. 

“Yeah it is,” you sighed.

“It looks, dark, just always dark.” Peter observed and you realized he was used to be greeted when he went home. When he would leave you tonight, Aunt May would be there for him.

“Ha, yeah, my family is out so that doesn’t help it.”

“Like, out of town?” Peter questioned and you saw the concern laced in his brow.

“Yup, but they’ll be back. They’re just working,” it was a lie. You didn’t know when they’d be back. “The quiet is the perfect studying environment though.” Peter laughed at that and shook his head.

“You and your studying,” he mused and you raised a brow in his direction.

“I could say the same for you and your Stark Internship,” you fired back, “last semester you missed so many practices because you had to go and help.” You felt lingering jealousy bubble up your throat but you pushed it down. There was no space for that anymore. “It must be amazing, but I guess that’s what you do.”

“Well, I mean,” Peter started to fumbled and rocked back on his heels, “you’re pretty amazing too, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short.” You felt your whole body warm and, to hide the sense of pride his words gave you, you spoke up once more.

“Isn’t that what you’re going to help with?” Peter met your gaze and it seemed like all nervous energy tapered out of his body. His shoulders relaxed and a soft smile graced his face. 

“Yeah, it is.” The almost cozy, relaxed silence fell over you and Peter once more. A passing car broke the momentary revelry and you stepped back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called, happy that you could smile as you said it.

“See you!” Peter shouted back as you crossed the street.

Part of you was tempted to turn around, check to see if Peter was still watching to make sure you got inside okay. You fought hard as you ascended the front steps but ultimately lost the battle. Once in the doorway, you turned to glance across the street. Peter was nowhere in sight.

He must walk fast, you surmised and started to unlock the door. Despite the slight disappointment, you were still smiling. You had a feeling that, even with the empty home that awaited you, you would fall asleep with that same smile; and, it turned out, you were right.