#sorry this chapter wasn't super interesting

[srmthfgrimworld]

Game 1: Day 15

Mandarin and Nevil sat together that morning while eating breakfast, deep in conversation and brainstorming ways to enhance their shelter. Mandarin explained that they should fire-proof the trap tunnel to ensure safety. Additionally, it was high time to start constructing better sturdy walls for added protection.

As they continued their discussion, Nevil mentioned that there was something different in the walls of his room. 

To their delight, Mandarin discovered that the material hidden within the walls was made up of essential components. These components were exactly what they needed to build advanced devices and machines, especially for generating power. 

While Mandarin mined the components, Nevil built an automated machine at the end of their trap tunnel. It was simple, but its purpose was to shoot arrows at intruders entering the tunnel.

The two worked tirelessly throughout the day, continuously building. They had to dismantle the walls and replace them with steel. Mandarin envisioned the entire base being renovated in the same manner, but they knew it would require more than just a day's effort. They wanted to ensure the base was fire-resistant and more difficult for intruders to penetrate.

Next, they collaborated on constructing a wind turbine outside the northern section of their shelter, using some of the components Mandarin had mined. However, at present, they were unable to create batteries to store the power, posing a fire hazard if they were to start linking it to the devices within their shelter.

Considering the potential risks involved, Mandarin and Nevil made the joint decision not to connect it just yet. They concluded that the potential benefits did not outweigh the associated risks. But at least the wind turbine was ready to go, they tested it to make sure it worked and got back to their other tasks.

Later that evening, a group of slave traders happened to pass by their shelter. Mandarin and Nevil felt anxious upon seeing the multitude of aliens, some of whom resembled humans while a couple appeared distinctly different. Adding to their concerns, the traders had tamed wolves accompanying them, and the size of the group posed a potential threat to their small base. Fortunately, it turned out that the traders were solely focused on their business and had no intention of initiating a conflict.

Mandarin had no inclination to purchase any slaves, nor did he possess any money. However, one of the traders expressed interest in acquiring a beaver that had been lingering near their sheep flock. Willing to make an exchange, Mandarin handed over the beaver and received a small quantity of gold in return.

The two waited until the slavers left, peering out from their base occasionally until they could no longer see them; they didn’t feel comfortable going to sleep until they were gone. Once they were, they ate dinner and headed to bed.

Mandarin thought about the rest of the hyperforce as he laid in his bed. It had been over two weeks and there was still no sign of them. 

He was starting to adjust to life here, he still wanted to leave of-course, but he did admit it could have been a lot worse.

[cherrygorilla]

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 2)

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne - 4:53

Yes, it is a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted anything to do with this (or anything at all really), but I've been dying to write for this story again, so I thought it would be a good way to help me get my groove back. Plus, I wanted to wait until Camp Wanamaker was done before I went back to working on Acting School Drop Out (because I feel like I might be able to use some stuff that's been mentioned in the next part lol). So, after months and months of uni stress that's kept me away from my google doc, here's the next installment of the story that's kept me going through it all.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Heavy eyelids dropped over a pair of umber eyes trying, and failing, to focus on the computer screen in front of them. Whilst the radio often felt like Butchy's only co-worker, today it just seemed to be functioning as a lullaby machine - and the smooth, fade-out ending of Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' just proved the point further. One second he was staring blankly at a page of pixelated text on a fuzzy screen, and then the next thing he knew he was drooling into the palm of his hand and almost falling off his chair at the sound of a car racing past his window. 

It's not even that he was tired - it was barely even 11am for Christ's sake - he was just so bored his brain was shutting down from lack of stimulation. And considering the latest turn of events, his body wasn't far behind. The roaring engine disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the incessant ticking of the plastic wall clock in its place. It didn't matter what kind of car it was, or where the hell it was going; all Butchy knew was that he wanted to be in it. Hopefully travelling far, far away from this crappy, dead-end town, and this shoe box of an office, that was more dust than desk, and smelled like a wet rat. 

Begrudgingly, he gathered himself together and finished typing out the latest file he'd been working on - something about trespassing in the old steel mill, he didn't care enough to look into the details. Tipping his head back, he rubbed his palms across his eyes, trying to press as hard as he could to draw some sort of alertness to the forefront of his mind. If anything, it just made him more tired.

One glance across his desk let his gaze settle on the dorky Star Wars mug Royce and Bentley had gifted him on his last birthday, and for the first time since he'd slumped in the splitting leather swivel-chair that morning, a ghost of a smile graced his features. He took a swig and drained the mug of the last of its contents: bitter, room-temperature coffee. Wincing at the taste, he picked up the next file to work on, but swiftly dropped it in favour of refilling his mug. After all, the walk to the coffee pot in the main office was the only change of scenery he got all day. Sometimes he watered the dying yucca plant beside him with the rancid liquid just so that he had an excuse to get away from his desk.

The tapping of keyboards and mumblings of the same, tedious phone calls he overheard every day met Butchy's ears as he lumbered down the hall and pushed open the office door. Lurking behind the frosted panel, caked in as much dust as the rest of the building, was the rag-tag reception team, consisting of three women Butchy had absolutely no intention of even looking at, let alone speaking to. He'd given up trying to make conversation with his co-workers pretty quickly after every meagre attempt on his end had been ignored. Most shifts passed without him uttering a single word. However, Lela ditching his ride that morning must have thrown him off more than he realised, because this shift was about to become an anomaly. 

"So I said to him: If you know so much about the damn sausages, why don't you cook 'em yourself?" 

"I bet he knows a lot about one kind of sausage."

"Oh Jen, pull your mind out of the gutter, you sound like a teenager."

"She practically still is one."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

A strained sigh slipped past Butchy's lips before he could stop it. The nasal drones from the women behind him were enough to make his eye twitch at the best of times, but the added scraping of Jennifer's nail file made it inevitable. Before he could short-circuit altogether though, one of the adjoining doors to the main office was pushed open, and the conversation unfolding behind it immediately caught his attention. 

Heaving a sigh that put the young trainee's to shame, the fourth, and final receptionist, led the charge into the room - two officers hot on her heels. "Well, you'll just have to go alone then, won't you, gentlemen?" 

"We can't just 'go alone', the chief's the only one that goes on solo investigations. What if it's dangerous? What if we need back-up?"

"And what, pray tell, Officer Reynolds, is so 'dangerous' about a broken store window?"

"Well from the sounds of things it's a pretty clear-cut robbery. What if the culprit's still on the scene? What if he's armed?"

"Why are you assumin' it's a 'he'?" Jennifer piped up with a smirk, punctuating her question by blowing the acrylic dust from the tip of her nail. 

As expected, neither officer batted an eyelid at her interruption. 

"We got the call last night. You've got a higher chance of him sticking the damn window back together."

"But what if it's like that time when Old Man McRoberts'-"

"Enough, boys. I don't want to hear it," she finally snapped, slamming the stack of paperwork down on her desk so hard it even made her glasses chain quiver. Turning to the pair with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she continued. "Callahan, you're on patrol with Officer Powell; Reynolds, you're investigating that store window. Alone."

"But Fran, that never-"

"No, I don't want to hear another word. You're going solo, Reynolds, and that's that." 

"...Uh, I could go with you."

The whole office fell silent. Even Jennifer's nail file seemed to pause for thought. But all too soon, six pairs of eyes fell on Butchy, whose grip on his mug instinctively tightened under their bemused glares. He couldn't exactly blame them; even he couldn't believe that he'd dared to speak - let alone suggest such a thing. But then again, this was a perfect opportunity - perhaps the only opportunity he'd get (at least for the foreseeable future) to prove himself a worthy member of the team. Being stuck behind a computer screen all day was getting him nowhere - in fact, he was pretty sure he had even less respect now than when he'd first set foot through the door over a month ago. But working on a case, a real case, meant he could put all the skills he'd learnt in his training to the test - show everyone that potential he'd promised in his interview. This could be the making of Officer Bandoni. This could be his ticket out of that godawful, stuffy office. This could be-

"Oh my god, look at his face; he's serious."

God, he hated Jennifer. But he hated that cackling laugh of hers even more. 

"Jennifer," Linda, the crotchety receptionist to her left, scolded. If Butchy hadn't known better, with her brusque, hushed tone and sharp glare from over the top of her tortoise shell glasses, he'd have thought the woman was her mother. 

"Yeah right," Officer Callahan snorted. But a pause, followed by a brief glance in the new recruit's direction soon had his confidence faltering. "I- Oh…" 

"Hey, cut him some slack, Jen; the kid's still learning the ropes," Officer Reynolds piped up, ignoring Officer Callahan's attempts to hide his smirk by smoothing out his moustache, and instead sending the smarmy receptionist a blasé, yet stern frown. "Of course he wasn't being serious."

"Actually, I was," Butchy corrected. He set his mug down and stood his ground opposite the two officers, gently nudging his chin up and puffing out his chest in an attempt to outwardly show some of the confidence he was so desperately trying to scrounge together. At least that would help to mask the stubborn rage bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. The staff's dismissiveness was frustrating enough on its own, but being reduced to a 'kid' was downright infuriating. 'Kids' did not single-handedly raise their little sister. 'Kids' did not give up their weekends to go and work in a shitty garage for two bucks an hour all throughout high school just so they could have food on the table. 'Kids' did not shoulder the responsibility of four adults after stepping up to parent, not only his own sister, but the three boys next door too. Butchy hadn't felt like a 'kid' in years. He had always been the oldest - the most mature, the most dependable, the most capable… So for these six adults, who had barely given him the time of day in the month he'd been working with them, to stand there and tell him he was nothing more than a 'kid'...it was insulting. And he was determined to prove them wrong. "If you need another officer for back-up, and no one else is free, then why can't I go with you?" 

"Well, for one, you're not an officer-"

All Reynolds had to do was hold up a hand for Callahan to snuff out his snickers. "Because you haven't finished your training yet, son," he plainly explained. At least his withering look was softened by a bored tone. 

"But I've aced every part of the course I've completed so far," Butchy argued. "And this could be a chance for me to learn on the job, out in the field-"

"Son, let it go."

"You said, yourself, that I've got potential. Why can't I just show you-?"

"Look, kid, you're not ready - you won't be for a long time. I admire the optimism but we've gotta look at the facts here. And truth is: the dirt on Callahan's shoe's got more experience walkin' 'round a crime scene than you do. I know you want to get out of the office and get a taste of the action, but I can't work the case and babysit you at the same time. It's just not realistic."

'Babysit'? Butchy could feel the word in the palm of his hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist around it, crushing it, along with all its juvenile connotations. "I'm not a 'kid', I'm eighteen years old," he insisted, choosing his words and tone very carefully as he fought not to lose his cool. 

"Yeah, and I'm not a chainsmoker neither," Jennifer sniggered, appearing to have swapped her nail file for a cigarette during the confrontation. She took a long drag as her, deep, carob eyes latched onto his, lashes sprawling across a rough sea of streaky kohl, before letting the smoke leak out through her crimson-painted smirk. 

Butchy didn't know what was more nauseating: her attitude or the stench of tobacco hanging in the air. 

Officer Reynolds let out an exasperated sigh that soon stole back the trainee's glare though. "That's all well and good, but it's not gonna change my mind. You need more experience before you go out in the field, Bandoni," he explained, with an expression that told Butchy he was well-weary of the conversation now. "You can't learn to run before you learn to walk. It's just not realistic - if anything, it's naïve."

"But how am I supposed to get more experience when I'm stuck behind a desk all day?" 

Butchy's question was shot down though as the pair of officers crossed the room to the office's main door, back to their usual routine of barely acknowledging his existence. "If I'm not back by two for your CPR training, Officer Powell will handle it, okay?" Reynolds said as he plucked his hat from the coat stand in the corner and secured it atop his head of thinning, taupe hair. Knowing the new recruit wouldn't be satisfied with any answer he could give him, he'd just decided to brush the question aside altogether. 

And knowing that defiance, and further provoking, would get him nowhere, Butchy finally relaxed his hand, and gave a stiff nod. He silently watched the officers announce their departure to the room and felt his shoulders slump in defeat, his chest aching with betrayal. Officer Reynolds was supposed to be his mentor, the one who would take him under his wing as he learned the ropes - and yet he'd kicked him to the curb and spat in his face the one time he'd tried to do the right thing. At least that's how it felt to him anyway. 

"Bye boys," Jennifer trilled with a flirty giggle as the office door closed behind them. Tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, she turned her vampish smirk to Butchy. "Nice little show there, Bandoni. And there I was thinking today was gonna be boring." 

Butchy's frown deepened as her scornful laughter battered his ears. The thick-headed she-devil wasn't worth his breath though - even the sickened huff that escaped his throat felt like a waste. His fingers once again closed, although this time they at least found the warm ceramic of his mug beneath them. Letting the heat seep into his skin, he took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to focus on anything else other than the anger boiling in his chest. At least the Star Wars mug, and the memory of receiving it, gave him something to anchor himself to: a way to discharge all the bitter resentment that had been steadily building for weeks, but had finally come to an ugly head. One more snarky comment from Jennifer and he'd have hurled the coffee at her sloppy up-do, he knew it - he could feel himself teetering on the brink. 

And yet, a friendly hand in the centre of his back was all it took to draw him back from the edge. "I should be thanking you," Fran said with a sympathetic chuckle, and roll of her eyes at the officers' expense. "I thought they'd never leave."

Managing a weak, but grateful smile to the receptionist, Butchy finally picked his mug up from the drink station and took his leave before he could draw any more unwanted attention to himself. Jennifer's squawking voice still rang in his ears as his footsteps pounded down the hall, desperate (for once) to shut himself away in his office. At least in there he knew he was safe from further embarrassment, even if the only thing waiting for him was a stack of files on petty traffic crimes. Apparently reading about speeding fines and parking tickets was all the excitement his life could afford him for the time being. But, for once, he actually found some comfort in that. 

"Well, Wuthering Heights, you were fun while you lasted, but I am not going to miss you," Vivien snorted, holding the worn paperback out in front of her, as if to address it like an old friend. 

The gentle chuckles that bounced the soft, chocolate brown curls beside her set her innocent little middle-school heart aflutter, and she caught herself clamping her lips shut in case it tried to escape. Craving the thrill of that sensation again, she snatched a shy glance in his direction before plastering the jovial grin back on her face. "Thank you for the 'A' though, Emily." 

"What are you thanking her for? We did all the hard work," Royce scoffed. "I wrote so many notes on the moors I'm pretty sure I almost gave myself Carpal Tunnel."

A snicker crinkled the brunette's nose. "Well you do have the neater handwriting."

"And you have all the good ideas," Royce chuckled, praying desperately that the prickling he felt across his cheeks wasn't what he thought it was. 

Stopping in front of a set of painted metal doors, Vivien turned to him with a disapproving frown. "Not all the good ideas." 

"Fine… most then."

Whilst Royce may have been able to keep his blush at bay, Vivien felt hers raging like a wildfire as she downplayed his compliment with an affectionate eye-roll and pushed her way out into the crisp autumn air of the Hawkins Middle parking lot. Hopefully a bracing breeze like the one that smacked her across the face the second she set foot onto the asphalt would help her systems stop running on overdrive, because right now she felt like a live wire about to catch light. One wrong move from Royce and he'd be fried to a crisp. 

Wrapping her free hand around the forearm that flanked him, protecting his arm from being barbecued should he decide to fondly bump her as they fell into stride once more, Vivien, composure regained, offered him a smile. "I guess that makes us a pretty good team then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he agreed, holding her gaze for a beat and letting the sincerity of the moment swell alongside the tingly, warm feeling spreading through his chest. "...And we've got the A to prove it." Terrified by the sensation, he snorted out a laugh that shattered the tenderness of the moment just as awkwardly as how he almost tripped over his own feet because he was spending more time looking at Vivien and her freaking dimples than where he was walking. Damn his stupid hand-me-down sneakers from Miles and their stupidly long laces.

More awkward, cheerful chuckles tumbled from the middle schoolers' lips as Royce steadied himself again and they made their way over to the cluster of trees by the soccer field. It didn't take Vivien long to break the comfortable silence that had fallen over them though. "I don't know what we're going to do with ourselves now that project's finished; it completely took over our lives for like two whole weeks there."

"I'm sure we'll find something."

But Royce's laidback grin was the complete antithesis of Vivien's tense shoulders and skittish gaze. Then again, he had no idea what she was planning, or what her skating friends had been begging her to do for weeks. 

It couldn't be that hard, right? It was just one little question. She asked him questions all the time, this one didn't need to be any different. And besides, there wasn't really anything Vivien felt as though she couldn't talk to Royce about; he was her best friend, he was always her first port of call for anything that was bothering her - well, unless it was about something like her period; that was strictly for her mom…

But this was just a question: one that could very well have been asked without another thought had she not attached all the extra weight to it in her mind. And yet here she was, fighting her own tongue, trying to persuade it to recite the script she'd meticulously planned out in her head the night before, because for some reason it wasn't convinced by her promised ability to brush the sentiment off as 'just a friend thing' should Royce take it badly. And neither was her mind, really. 

Realistically though, what was the worst thing that could happen if he had a weird reaction? It's not like a meteor would crash out of the sky and strike them both down or anything, no matter how much she may want it to in the moment - she knew; she'd checked and it wasn't the right time of year for it. The worst that could happen is things might be a little awkward between them for a couple days, right? He wouldn't- 

-Actually, scratch that. Vivien didn't want to think about it. 

"Well, actually…" she began, before she could talk herself out of it any further. 

Vivien felt Royce's gaze land on her the second she stopped to clear her throat, which had become inexplicably scratchy ever since those last words had left it, clearly so reluctant to be said they'd dug their heels in the entire journey out into the cool, October air. And as soon as it did, it felt as though all her sweat glands released at once, adding a glistening sheen to her already crimson skin. Horrified, Vivien kept her gaze on the ground a few paces ahead of her to avoid having to find out if Royce had realised, and pushed her round, silver-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose in an attempt to shield herself from further embarrassment as a result of her thirteen-year-old hormones wreaking havoc in her own body. 

Fearing that the longer she dragged this on, the more her subconscious would betray her, she swallowed her nerves and ploughed ahead. "Do you remember how you missed out on going to watch The NeverEnding Story this summer because you had to spend your ticket money on a new wheel for your bike?"

In her periphery, Vivien saw Royce's hand shift up to play with the fraying fabric of his backpack strap. He only ever did that when he felt uncomfortable. She didn't even have to look at him to confirm it either, the pause before he responded told her almost as much as his tone of voice did. 

"...Yeah, but what does that-?"

"Hey nerds!" 

Despite their disdain for the term, both Vivien and Royce's heads whipped around to try to locate the source of the voice, mentally cursing themselves for even acknowledging that the phrase could have been used to refer to them, let alone responding to it. But as green and brown eyes scanned a sparse sea of middle schoolers, searching for signs of anyone with ill-intent, they came up short. 

"Over here!"

The voice, carried on the wind, drew the pair's gazes to a figure, practically standing on the bench of a rotting, wooden picnic table to try to grab their attention and their disgruntled grumblings fell from their lips within seconds of one another, replaced by fond sighs. 

Bentley waved the duo towards him so spectacularly that, for all they knew, he could have been directing a plane to land. And whilst Vivien couldn't help but smile at the blond's boundless energy, she also couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with how easily Royce shelved their conversation by letting out an almost relieved: "Duty calls."

"Yeah," Vivien agreed with a forced smile and a breathy, awkward laugh to match his. Although it dropped from her face the second he turned his back to head over to the shaded seating area. 

Once he was a good few paces ahead of her, and she was sure he was out of earshot, Vivien let out a frustrated huff, so hot she was surprised it didn't steam up her glasses. "Goddammit, Bentley," she muttered, shoving her library copy of Wuthering Heights into her backpack as she started trudging along behind Royce. "I almost got through it all that time."

But Bentley was none the wiser to Vivien's grand plans; too excited by his own news to consider that the pair may have been busy. And besides, the easygoing grin his older brother shot him as he approached made him none the wiser. 

"You've gotta come up with something better to call us, Benny," Royce said, fondly shaking his head as he climbed the last few steps of the hill leading up to the picnic table, adorned by Bentley's friends, the contents of at least three up-turned pencil cases, and enough sheets of paper to paper mache a small child. Thankfully, the table was sheltered from the worst of the breeze, so the most that a stray gust could do was flutter the edges beneath the various, makeshift paperweights (dog-eared textbooks and unopened juice boxes) strewn across the splintering surface.

"Why? You are 'nerds'," the boy laughed as he bounced back down into his spot on the bench seat beside August. 

"We are not," Royce protested.

"It got you to come over here, didn't it?" Bentley replied with a cheesy smirk. 

Royce let out a slightly bitter sigh as he fumbled through a response. "Well- yeah, but it's… demeaning." 

"Then why'd you respond to it?" Kona snorted, apparently more focused on selecting the right shade of crayon than bothering to look Royce in the eye as she insulted him. 

The bluntness of the eleven-year-old's comment drew a snort of laughter from him before he could stop it, whether it was in amusement or incredulity though he'd never know. But the smile that threatened to envelop his disapproving frown stayed firmly in place as he said, "Because I'm so used to everyone else calling us it, that's why. And you shouldn't be contributing to the problem anyway; I thought we were all on the same side here."

"You calling us nerds, RJ?" Zack piped up with a challenging quirk of his eyebrow. 

"Pot calls the kettle black," Royce smirked.

"White boy says what now?" Zack retorted with a confused frown that soon gave way to a mischievous grin the second that Royce rolled his eyes and playfully ruffled his hair, insisting through shared laughter that the boy knew what he meant. 

"What are you guys doing up here?" Vivien asked with a breathy laugh of her own as she arrived at the picnic table and caught the end of the boys' friendly roughhousing.

"Having fun until you nerds showed up," Zack scoffed as he shoved Royce's chest in an attempt to get the older boy away from him. But the bubbling giggles that tumbled from his lips as Royce expressed his disdain for the name once more told everyone all they needed to know about how much he enjoyed the brunet's company - proved even further when he resorted to wrapping his arms around his torso and tackling him into a hug from his spot on the bench. 

"Looks like it," Vivien noted with a bemused chuckle. "What's all this then? You writing out your own comic book or something?" she continued, gesturing to the vast collection of paper spread out before the quartet. 

"We're designing our characters for this cool new game Gus brought in," Bentley raved, holding up his sheet of paper for Vivien to see. "Look at my guy, he's got a wand that's disguised as a paintbrush and this magic flute that lets him talk to animals." 

"Damn, Benny, that's so cool," she grinned, marvelling at the artwork with almost as much care as the blond put into creating it. 

"And look, here's the one I'm doing for Gus," Bentley continued, shuffling the papers around until he selected the right one. 

"You didn't want to draw out your own?" Vivien asked the boy, whose sandy blond eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. 

"Nah; Ben's better at art," August admitted, only glancing up from his work to shoot his oblivious friend a shy smile. "And I enjoy the planning part of it more anyway," he went on to explain. "So he's doing the drawing, and I'm filling out his character sheet for him." 

"Yeah, 'cause there was no way I was gonna be able to deal with all that," Bentley snorted.

"This looks like a lot of work for just one game," Vivien noted, inching another piece of paper towards her and finding it covered from top to bottom in meticulously written words, numbers, and the occasional, scribbled doodle. 

"Tell me about it," Kona scoffed. "I feel like we got extra math homework with this stupid number system we've got to work off of," she added with a huff that blew a straw strand of hair away from her eyes. Begrudgingly tapping the open, yellowing pages of an intricately illustrated book with the end of a pencil, she brought the thirteen-year-old's gaze to the table she was drawing from. 

"You guys are willingly doing math over lunch and you're calling us nerds?" Royce asked with a teasing incredulity that earned him further, playful bickering from Zack. 

"So what do you do with all this when you've created your characters then?" Vivien continued, feeling a fond smile tugging at her lips as Royce's unbridled laughter tickled her ears. Fighting the urge to swat the imagined sensation away, she focused her attention on the other children at the table. "What's this dorky wizard math game called?" 

"Dungeons and Dragons," Bentley explained.

Vivien’s ears perked up. “Dungeons and Dragons? That weird roleplaying game Riven plays with his sweaty high school friends?” 

“Who’s Riven?” Kona asked.

“My skating partner,” Vivien said, throwing the explanation away like a used napkin so that she could get back to the main point at hand. 

“Ew, so is he like your boyfriend then?” Kona teased with a devilish wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“No!” Vivien blurted, maybe a little too quickly if everyone turning to look at her was anything to go by. "No, not like… It's just- He's like my brother, ok?" she hurriedly tried to explain, trying to ignore the bile now creeping at the back of her throat the very thought alone had placed there. 

"Ok," Kona snorted, smirking to herself as she caught Royce's shoulders slump in relief in her periphery. Making the ninth-graders squirm was a favourite pastime of hers, and lately, all this girlfriend-boyfriend talk around them, despite making her want to hurl, had been a homerun every time. 

"I didn’t know Riven played DnD,” Bentley piped up, earning himself a grateful smile from Vivien for taking some of the heat off her. 

“Neither did I until he made us switch our practice days so that he could go play pretend with a bunch of dorks out the back of Eddie 'the freak' Munson's trailer."

"Riven's in that weird Hellraiser club?" Royce asked, bushy eyebrow raised in disbelief. 

"My sister says they're all devil worshippers," Zack mumbled.

"It's Hellfire," Vivien corrected. "And they're not devil worshippers - well, Riven's not anyway. As far as I know they're just losers in matching shirts who play make believe like they're still in first grade."

"It's more than just playing make believe," August dared to pipe up with a somewhat defensive frown, immediately toying with the corner of Bentley's character sheet the second the group's attention landed on him. A sideways glance in the blond's direction earned him a reassuring smile that breathed some much needed confidence into his lungs, and as he released it, he said, "There's this whole world you can build your own stories around with all these super detailed characters and a bunch of lore you can discover. I spent my whole weekend reading through the books my cousin gave me and that doesn't even cover half of it. It's like one big choose-your-own adventure story, but everyone gets a say in what happens, and gets to feel like they're a part of it."

A beaming grin and steel blue eyes, sparkling with excitement, found Royce with startling ease. "Doesn't that sound cool?!" Bentley enthused.

"...It actually does," Royce admitted, even surprising himself with his answer. 

"Hear that, Auggie? You didn't even have to mention dragons to convince someone that time," Kona snickered, firing the curly haired boy beside her a smirk. 

"Whatever," Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You thought they sounded cool too," he added with an accusatory nudge of the blonde's elbow that had her cursing him under her breath for making her pencil skim across the page. 

Ignoring his friends' sibling-like arguing, so used to it by now that it honestly would have been stranger to acknowledge it, Bentley kept his attention, and his toothy grin, focused on his older brother. "I knew you'd like it! You're always borrowing those old fantasy books from the library and writing your own versions of them."

"Well- yeah, ok, but what does that have to do with this?" Royce stuttered, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment despite Vivien's small, amused smile. 

"Well this is just like that! Gus wrote out our first campaign all by himself," Bentley gushed before leaning into the shying blond beside him. "That's like the story, right?" he checked in a hushed tone. And after receiving a confirmatory nod, he turned back to Royce with renewed enthusiasm. "The plot, the monsters, the bonus quests - he came up with it all!" 

Bentley pushed a stack of papers towards his brother, bound by treasury tags and bearing enough ink to have drained an entire pack of ballpoint pens. "Holy shit," Royce breathed as he picked it up and began flipping through the makeshift book, becoming more and more stunned with every turn of a page. "You wrote this whole thing by yourself?" he asked August, who timidly nodded. "In one weekend?" Again, the boy nodded, this time a little more eagerly. And Royce could see why. "...Wow," he marvelled, smiling as he watched the younger boy swell with pride. "This is really impressive, August."

"You put some serious work into this, huh?" Vivien noted.

"Yeah, I guess," August admitted as his steadily reddening cheeks were pulled aside by an appreciative grin. "It's not like I minded though," he went on to hurriedly explain. "It all came together pretty quickly once I got into it. Plus it gave me an excuse to shut myself up in my room away from my stuffy aunt and that stupid dog she carries around in her purse," he added, earning himself a bright laugh from Bentley that completely stalled his train of thought. Luckily, it was nothing that clearing his throat and refocusing his gaze on the blond's character sheet couldn't fix though. "I guess I just thought it would be something fun for us all to do together, you know?"

"Yeah, it sure sounds like it," Vivien said with a warm smile. But there was still a little, nagging thought hammering away at the back of her head, and she feared that if she didn't use this opportunity of an out as her last-ditch attempt at getting Royce alone before the end of the school day then that nagging thought would break right through her skull and puncture her brain with its pesky little pickaxe. And she needed all the brainpower she could muster to get through this, so she did not want to take any risks. "Anyway," she continued, snagging the attention of the table of eleven-year-olds as she clapped her hands together. "We'd better let you guys get back to planning. We wouldn't want to be the reason for you guys delaying your first adventure now, would we?" she asked rhetorically, firing a knowing look across at Royce that was not-so-subtly hidden behind a theatrical grin.

If Royce picked up on the intensity behind Vivien's gaze though, he didn't show it, instead remaining as blissfully oblivious as he always seemed to be when it came to her intentions as he took his turn to offer a fond smile to the table of his brother's friends. "You'll have to let us know how it goes," he said, before adding with a chuckle: "I'm invested now; it sounds awesome."

Breathing out a sigh of relief between her teeth as Royce rounded the picnic table to join her, Vivien kept her almost clown-like smile plastered to her face as she thanked whatever great powers were at work for making Royce ever so slightly more perceptive than the other, gormless teenage boys in their class. But just as she was inching her way back down the hill, and readying her opening line for the brunet once they were out of earshot of the eager little gremlins, one of them piped up with a perfectly pointed pin to burst her bubble. 

"Why don't you just play with us then?" 

Bentley's wide-eyed, hopeful grin was the only thing keeping Vivien from snatching up Kona's muddy jump rope and strangling him with it. Besides the years upon years of sibling-like friendship, obviously.

Forcing out a strained laugh, she managed a tight, "It's alright, Benny, we don't want to crash your fun." 

"You're not crashing anything; we want you to join in. Right, guys?" 

Ok, so Bentley can't read social cues… Good to know. 

It would have made things a hell of a lot easier if Vivien could have known about that before she set the wheels of her master plan into motion though, because right now she felt like they were so out of sync they were about to derail the handcar she'd strapped this grand idea of hers to. But even if she could have brought herself to get mad at Bentley, Zack jumped to the blond's defence before she even had the chance. 

"Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get because Kona can't add up for shit and I'm not about to let my guy Omar Scale Crusher die after I've spent all this time working out his stats."

"I can't add up for shit?! What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who got put in Math 2!"

"Only for a week! And I totally got a better grade than you on that test last week."

"No you didn't!"

"Did too!"

"Bite me!" 

As the pair energetically bickered about Zack's accusations, which Kona steadfastly claimed were built on entirely false foundations, Vivien found her frustration with the picnic table occupants crumbling away. After all, they weren't to know that she'd been practising for this lunchtime conversation with Royce for weeks. How could they? The only others she'd confided in were her three skating friends and the balding Big Bird stuffed animal from the end of her bed that had taken on the role of Royce during her many rehearsals. And she couldn't blame them for their excitement over the game either; even she had to admit that it sounded pretty cool. Plus, after hearing Riven rhapsodise about Hellfire's epic campaigns for weeks now, she was starting to get a little curious about the game and how it was played. 

"Omar Scale Crusher, huh?" she eventually chuckled, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Zack that soon ground his and Kona's squabbling to a halt. "How'd you come up with that?" 

"Isn't it sick? Auggie had this big list of names with cool meanings to help us decide."

After shuffling through the endless sheets of paper around him, August found the right one and went on to explain for a very enthusiastic Zack: "Omar means 'one who has a long life'."

"Yeah, so he'd better live up to his damn name! I'm not planning this whole thing out to have him die in the first round," he declared with a hearty laugh, before tagging on: "Plus my uncle's called Omar and he's awesome."

Vivien couldn't help her snort of laughter at the blunt innocence. "Very creative," she noted. "What is he then? Like a viking or something?"

"No, he's a wizard," Zack stated matter-of-factly. "'Cause why would I bother using a sword when I could just kill an enemy with magic?" 

"How come your guy's holding a sword then?" 

Royce's frank delivery, from over the younger boy's shoulder, had a laugh spurting from between Vivien's lips before she could stop it. And Bentley, August, and Kona were all quick to follow suit. 

However, as to be expected, the brash brunet soon scrambled a retaliation. "Well I'd still want one for backup."

"No duh," Kona chuckled as she finished shading in the metallic sheath of the dagger her character clutched in a leather clad fist. "Magic or not, you still need a weapon."

"Is your character a wizard too then?" Vivien asked Kona, but the incredulous snort the blonde let out could have told her all she needed to know on its own.

"No, Andromeda doesn't need to rely on magic to keep herself out of danger; her dexterity's off the charts." 

Before another argument could break out between Zack and Kona as a result of her roundabout dig at him, August decided to speak for the table. "Zack’s our mage, Kona's our thief, Ben's our Bard and my guy's a ranger."

"But you're the dungeon master too, right?" Bentley checked, mischievous blue eyes peeking out from beneath furrowed bows. 

August's own eyes were drawn to Bentley's the second that he'd opened his mouth, but the smirk tugging at his friend's lips was what captured his attention. "What's so funny?" he challenged through a chuckle that coaxed one out of Bentley too. "You don't think I could be a dungeon master?"

"I never said that," Bentley laughed. But the look the boys shared meant they both knew that's what his tone had implied.

"You didn't have to."

"Well can you blame me? It just sounds so menacing and scary. I know you read all those horror books and stuff, but come on, you're about as intimidating as Winnie the Pooh - who, last time I checked, was still tucked under your comforter next to your pillow and your old baby blanket."

Jaw dropped in incredulity, August lightly elbowed Bentley in the ribs. "I can so be intimidating," he retorted. But if he was pretending to be mad at the boy, his true feelings were soon revealed by the smile he couldn't seem to keep off his face.

"Yeah, well, we've yet to see it," Kona bluntly noted, which once again set Royce and Vivien off giggling at the sixth graders. 

"You sound like you've got a pretty well-rounded group then," Royce carried on, drawing the conversation back to August's point from earlier. "Are there even any roles left for us? Or are we going to have to start doubling up?"

"You can double up if you want, but there's still a bunch of classes that haven't been picked yet," August explained, flipping through the large book spread out before him until he got to the right page. "We've not got a druid, a cleric, or a fighter."

"What does a fighter do?" Royce asked.

"Fighters are weapons-oriented warriors, who fight using skill, strategy, and tactics," August recited from his handbook, bringing the group's attention to the detailed illustration of an armoured swordsman, wielding what looked to be an incredibly heavy shield with almost no effort at all.

The second Vivien's eyes met the page she knew it was game over; her imagination kicked into overdrive and tossed all other thoughts about how she could have been spending this lunchtime to the curb. Racing at a million miles an hour, her brain plucked ideas from seemingly thin air and began piecing together a muscular young woman, strong enough to knock an ox clean off its feet in one quick shove, although you'd never know it since her frame was cleverly disguised in roughened leather padding, tarnished silver armour, and rich, violet robes fashioned into a sort of cape. Her face was weathered, but kind, and her vibrant, emerald eyes sparkled with determination, and the promise of adventure. Like the picture in August's book, the woman carried a large, battle-scarred sword by its ornate handle, and kept a hefty shield vigilantly by her side, painted in, again, deep shades of indigo, violet, and the blood of her enemies, naturally. She also had a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder though, nestled beside a crossbow, just peeking out from behind a head of flowing, chestnut locks. The heroine had no time for preening, so her hair was tousled with grease and grime from combatting the elements on her journeys, but as it fluttered in the wind, it was kept away from her face by intricate braids, weighed down by silver rings and stolen jewels of amethyst and topaz. She smiled at Vivien from the forefront of her mind, as if marking her territory there, and Vivien felt her heart skip a beat as she breathed out a quiet, and hopefully nonchalant: "Hmm…cool."

"That sounds like a good one for you, Viv. Strategy and tactics? You're great with planning stuff out," Royce noted. But one glance in her direction and his face broke into a knowing smile the second he clocked her eyes, glazed over in thought, and lips, parted in awe. 

"Yeah, and look, you'd make a great cleric," Bentley continued, pulling Royce's gaze away from Vivien, albeit reluctantly. Flipping the page of August's handbook, he excitedly tapped at a drawing of a tall man, draped in heavy, fur pelts and bronzed chainmail. A glowing staff was held in one hand, and a massive axe was thrown over his shoulder as though it weighed no more than a sack of flour. 

"Clerics are versatile figures, both capable in combat and skilled in the use of divine magic," August recited from the page after a light, nudge from Bentley. "They're also powerful healers."

"See? That's perfect for you! You're always helping patch us up if we fall off our bikes," Bentley enthused, undeterred by the amused chuckles that his brother unleashed as a result of what he thought was an adorably innocent explanation. 

"Yeah, and we could use a healer on our team, especially with those two and their lack of impulse control," August snorted as he gestured to Kona and Zack, who jumped at the chance to express their indignation. 

As the group of friends returned to jovially bickering amongst themselves, Royce and Vivien's minds were quietly whirring with ideas. Ideas which, upon glancing at one another, they soon realised were all too perfectly aligned. 

"What do you say then, losers?" Kona finally asked once she'd finished fighting her ground against the boys, snapping the eighth-graders out of their heads and bringing them back to reality with a knowing smirk. "Are you playing with us or not?"

Royce, as always, left the decision to Vivien. But the hopeful glimmer in his caramel eyes, paired with her own, itching curiosity made that decision all too easy. And besides, even if she wasn't spending time alone with Royce, she was still spending time with him. And that was good enough for her.

…For now. 

"Well… I guess one game couldn't hurt, right?" she said with a smirk that soon broke out into a grin as Bentley's face lit up like a firework display. And it only grew when she glanced across at Royce for one last confirmation that she'd made the right decision, only to find him beaming with almost as much enthusiasm as his brother. 

If this nerdy little game brought Royce this much joy, and was even half as much fun as it sounded, then Vivien knew it would be worth another few hours of crippling anxiety. Besides, she hoped that she could immerse herself in the story so much that she'd forget all about her predicament with the brunet anyway. But as they took their places at the picnic table, and Royce's sneaker brushing against her shin shot a jolt of adrenaline up her leg with such a force that she almost jumped straight back out of her seat, she knew that that was just wishful thinking. Covering up the brief waver in her cool, confident exterior with a quiet cough, she tried to refocus her mind on the endless streams of information August was unleashing on the pair of them.

"-and so the group our characters all belong to is called The Circle of the Emerald Torches, but part of the first campaign is about how we get our name, so I'll explain more about that later. Before you start, and before I give you your character sheets though, if you want to be in our party then you'll need to recite the Oath of Noble Heroes so that we know you're serious about this."

"Don't worry, we had to do it too. But it's so cool, you'll love it! And then there's a declaration of loyalty for you to sign somewhere too," Bentley tagged on before the boys started animatedly babbling amongst themselves about the ins and outs of their party's rules again. 

Shaking his head at the pair, Royce took the opportunity of them being distracted to lean over to Vivien and teasingly chuckle, "What the hell have you just gotten us into?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the boy, knowing that his enthusiasm for the game was a major driving factor in her decision to play, and that he was also well-aware of that fact, she looked him square in the face and hid her smirk behind a deadly serious, blank expression, "I'm pretty sure we just joined a cult." 

American History, Volume 2, lay open on page 38. And it had laid there like that for the past 45 minutes, having been abandoned by its current owner almost as soon as it had been removed from their backpack. Because instead of completing the assigned history homework, the desk's occupant was using their study hall period much more wisely: by shredding a solo, courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne, on possibly the most prestigious instrument of all: the air guitar.

Ethan's eyes slid shut, and a blissful smile curled his lips as he mashed the volume button on his Walkman with practised ease. Bar after bar of 'Crazy Train' pounded through his skull at a staggering volume, rattling what little of his brain was left in the mostly vacant space between his ears, helped along by the bopping of his head in time with the song's beat. When his fingers weren't plucking out riffs on imaginary strings, they were banging out the drumline on a drum kit that was just as real as his Gibson SG. And all the while, he was passionately miming the lyrics for his audience of the pencil shavings and dust mites that hugged the wall beside his desk. 

He felt the music in his bones. The bass line pumped through his veins. Every note that was played resonated through the chambers of his heart until it felt like the song was as much a part of him as his left arm. And the deeper he let himself sink into the music, the less aware of his surroundings he became - or the less he cared to remember them anyway. Until a sharp elbow to the ribs shattered his rockstar illusions, that is. 

Bleary brown eyes met earnest, steel blue, and held nothing but confusion for the several seconds it took him to realise that Miles’ mouth was moving without making a sound. 

“What?” Ethan bellowed, prying a wailing headphone speaker away from his ears as he leaned closer to the exasperated brunet. 

“Jesus, man!” Miles exclaimed under his breath as he reached across to his friend’s Walkman to frantically turn the volume down. “Are you trying to blow your eardrums out or something?” 

“That would be pretty metal, so maybe,” Ethan chuckled, entirely unphased. But Miles’ disapproving frown soon had him rolling out an explanation. “You’ve got a front row seat for my biggest show yet and you’re choosing to lecture me about volume control? I can care about my hearing when I’m in the retirement home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you make it to a retirement home," Miles snorted. "You've got the survival skills of a two dollar house plant."

Instead of arguing back, or even rolling his eyes at his best friend's dig, Ethan just continued chuckling along in agreement as he slid his headphones down to rest around his neck - still blaring out Ozzy Osbourne's vocals, although they were only just audible over the hubbub of chatter and laughter that filled the rest of the classroom. "What were you saying before anyway?" he went on to ask. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, the answer to number four."

"Pfft, you think I've even made it past one?" Ethan guffawed, astonished and highly amused that Miles thought highly enough of him to assume he hadn't been shirking his responsibilities all afternoon. "I've got no fucking clue. What chapter are we on again? Abraham Lincoln?"

The mix of despair and disbelief Ethan was faced with when he glanced back across at Miles told him his guess might not have been as accurate as he'd pitched it to be. "...Are we not on Abraham Lincoln?"

"We haven't done Abraham Lincoln since freshman year," Miles deadpanned before letting out a chuckle of his own. "When was the last time you actually paid attention in one of Mr Bishop's classes?"

"Probably freshman year," Ethan noted with a laugh, slumping back in his seat and starting to rock on the back two legs of the flimsy, plastic chair. "I think the only chance I've got at retaining any of the information in that textbook for this month's pop quiz is if I eat it."

The look of reproach Miles shot the carefree stoner could have fooled any passerby into thinking that he was the boy's father, but he blamed that on the past however many years of having to act as a sole parental figure for two young boys - who, on several occasions, had actually proved to be far more mature than the lank-haired brunet before him. More often than not, Ethan felt like a third child he had to keep alive. And somehow, his lack of height was not one of the driving factors behind that reasoning.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look," Ethan groaned, ever the resentful teenager in their relationship. "You've not exactly been Mr Studious yourself today."

"What are you talking about?" 

"Well you've been stuck on that same question for the last twenty minutes 'cause you keep making goo-goo eyes at you know who," Ethan smirked as Miles' eyes widened in horror and his forehead started to prickle with sweat. 

"No I don't," he indignantly tried.

"I thought you said you were over her," Ethan teased.

"I am! It's not like that anyway," Miles muttered, then added. "And it's not been twenty minutes."

"It totally has."

"How the hell would you know? You've been listening to Motorhead since we sat down."

"Yeah but my fuckin' eyes still work," Ethan snorted, hitting Miles with a loving grin that had him rolling his eyes before Ethan had even finished his sentence. And yet, the boy's frustration did nothing to deter him from probing further. "What's the stalking for this time then? You know, if you're not trying to get in her pants anymore." 

Miles was at as much of a loss as Ethan. His eyes found the head of bouncing, blonde curls with almost no effort at all (likely a result of an entire study hall period of practice), searching for some sort of answer. But all he found was a dull, fluttering in his chest. 

Even the giddy, lovestruck butterfly that had been trapped in there for months seemed to have admitted defeat. 

Still, his gaze never wavered. He watched airy laughter spill from her glossy lips, and her nose crinkle beneath brilliantly blue eyes, framed by thick, black lashes and copious amounts of mascara. Whilst before, Miles could have eaten through a movie theatre's entire popcorn supply and still want to look just a little longer, in that moment he just felt empty. And that’s when he realised it wasn't actually Carrie herself that was occupying his mind, it was everyone else around her, and how she was treating them. Plucking a proudly presented flyer for a house party from one, impishly teasing another, waving at Sharon Frye on her way out the door, firing a flirty wink in jest at Steve Harrington after giggling at one of his jokes…

Miles was certain she'd looked at every other person in that room at least once since their study hall period had begun, and yet the closest her eyes had ventured over to him was when she glanced at the clock on the wall. Every thought in his head was plagued by her smile, or her voice, or her laugh… Had he ever even crossed her mind? 

"Do you think she actually cares about us?"

Miles hadn't been able to bring himself to tear his forlorn gaze from the blonde in question, but that didn't stop Ethan from snorting out an answer. "Well yeah, I'd hope so; we spend enough time with her." 

"Not by choice," Miles huffed. 

“Well she talks to us now, and that’s more than we could have said before we worked with her, so that’s got to count for something,” Ethan chuckled. “But if this is about what I think it’s about, then she absolutely cares about you, dude. Like way more than the rest of us.”

“You really think so?” 

“Dude, it’s like you two are glued at the hip. I can’t get you away from each other for shit once we close every night,” Ethan replied. And when Miles still looked unsure, he added, “Why else do you think I always get stuck cleaning the kitchen with Mick? She hates my guts!”

“No she does not,” Miles softly chuckled.

“Well I definitely don’t think she likes me, not like Carrie likes you anyway,” he retorted with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’m telling you, man. There’s something there. There’s no way she’d laugh at your crappy jokes like she does if she didn’t at least have a little interest in you - I don’t care if Mick thinks it’s bullshit, I know I’m right.”

Miles just rolled his eyes, but a hopeful smile desperately pulled at his lips, no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it. “I don’t know, I think she probably just does it to be nice,” he mused, watching as Carrie animatedly responded to Rachel Price before turning back to resume her conversation with the girl sat beside her - the very girl that Miles still had an irrepressible urge to swap lives with: Juliet Harmon. Now faced with nothing but the back of her head, he quickly lost interest in the view. “…She seems to act like that with most people.”

“She definitely does not, man. Why do you think the entire marching band is scared to look her in the eye? She’s like one of the biggest bitches in school,” Ethan scoffed. But he paused when he realised Miles wasn’t laughing along with him. “Why does it matter how she acts around other people anyway?” 

“It doesn’t,” Miles huffed. “…Not really.” 

But the second he dared to make eye contact with his oldest friend, the floodgates opened and the truth came tumbling out. 

“I just…feel stupid for letting her get in my head, and for actually thinking that we had something special - that I was somehow different to all the other idiots who throw themselves at her to get a second of her attention. But here I am, thinking about her constantly, hanging onto every interaction we have like my fucking life depends on it, only for her to… Ugh, I don't know. I just…don't want it all to not mean anything to her, when it means so much to me - no matter how much I try to convince myself it doesn't. I mean, yeah, she's nice to me at work - really nice - but she barely even acknowledges me outside of All Skate… It's like I don't even exist, like she doesn't even realise I'm there. And it makes me feel like shit."

"She barely acknowledges anyone," Ethan absentmindedly mused. "I wouldn't take it personally."

"That's a lot easier said than done," Miles huffed dejectedly. There was something freeing about Ethan's nonchalance over Miles' feelings though; it made them feel less suffocating. And whilst he still felt entirely hopeless about the situation, he did feel a little bit of the pressure ease off as he rested his chin on his hand and let his mind start to wander. "...You think she actually considers us friends?"

"Sure; she calls us her work friends all the time."

"No but like her actual friends," Miles clarified. 

"Dude, I don't fucking know; the female mind is a mystery to me at the best of times, but hers is on a whole other level," Ethan scoffed in incredulity. "Do you not remember that like thirty minute debate I had with her about diet sodas? Actual insanity.”

Miles' quiet chuckling as he reminisced about what had started as an innocent question, yet progressed to a full-blown screaming match, with each participant equally as confused and frustrated as the other, was soon silenced by Ethan's next prompt though. "I know a way you can find out though…"

"...No!" 

"Oh come on, man. Don't be a sissy. It'll be so easy. And then you can stop getting hung up on all these bogus hypotheticals."

Miles' initial horror slowly dissipated as Ethan's reasoning started to lure out a far greater force from its hiding place in the corner of his brain: his curiosity. "...You really think I can just go up and talk to her? In class?" he asked, as his eyes once again found that jumble of golden curls. 

"Sure, why not? It's only study hall." 

Again, Ethan's nonchalance, which was only heightened by the fact that he was trying to balance a pen on his curled upper lip as he responded, did far more for Miles' confidence than any pep talk of his own could have. And besides, maybe he was onto something - maybe it really was that simple; it always was in his world. 

"It wouldn't be weird?" Miles double-checked. 

"Why would it be weird? All you're gonna do is talk to her. And we already established you two are friends, so what could go wrong?" 

Miles shuddered at the very thought. "So much."

Ethan glanced across at him, ready to fire out further encouragement like a sixth grader with a penchant for making spitballs, but when he clocked his friend's nervous fidgeting, he reconsidered his situation and gained a little clarity. "Ok…yeah, fine, stuff could go wrong. But are you gonna die?" he proposed.

"No," Miles begrudgingly mumbled.

"Are you gonna break something?"

"No, but-"

"Then how bad can it be?" Ethan cut in with a lopsided, optimistic grin before Miles could tie himself up in any more self-conscious knots. "Just get over there and scratch that itch that's been bugging you for weeks; it's not gonna stop until you do. And you'll feel so much better after."

It took Miles by surprise every time it happened, but yet again, it seemed as though Ethan might actually be…right. This question of Carrie's loyalty had been eating away at him for weeks now. And, as he'd stressed earlier, it was making him feel shittier and shittier with every day he let it drag on. Asking her outright was a definite way to get his answer… It was just going to require him growing some balls, as anything to do with All Skate's resident disc jockey apparently made his own shrink to the size of peas.

"...Just walk over and talk to her?" Miles checked. Although, between us, he was just stalling to give himself more time to muster some courage.

"Yeah, as a friend," Ethan confirmed. 

"You really think I can pull that off?" Miles asked with a dubious, but hopeful quirk of his eyebrow that had Ethan melting like a bomb pop that had been left out in the 4th of July sun.

"Absolutely," he grinned, totally enamoured by his friend's giddy trepidation, and the promise of a relationship he so steadfastly defended. "She's got a major soft spot for you, man. I see it like every night," he went on to reassure. "There's no way she's gonna blow you off. You'll be fine."

And as a result of that dopey grin, complemented by the ratty, chestnut locks, and vacant, dark chocolate eyes… Miles believed him. 

"...Ok, I'm going in," he breathed through a determined smile. 

"Atta boy," Ethan chuckled, fist-bumping Miles before tipping his chair back onto all four of its legs again, as though to signal the resolution of their predicament. "Go scratch that itch," he added, finishing their little handshake with a bolstering point before lifting his headphones back over his ears and disappearing back into his wildest rock star fantasies - totally oblivious to the disaster about to unfold right behind him as Miles took a deep breath and waded into the wild, uncharted waters of the female mindset. 

"So now that we know that y=7, we plug that into this side of the function, that we've already simplified, to give us this…which then means that we can carry this over here, giving us x=3." 

…Silence.

"Right?" Juliet checked, although the satisfied smile that had settled on her carnation pink lips as soon as she finished the sum was beginning to falter into one of desperation as she turned to her tutee. "Did you follow along ok that time?"

But all Juliet was met with was a glassy stare and an infatuated grin, smushed between two fists as its owner rested their chin on their palms. "You're so smart, Julie," Carrie breathed. 

Juliet just rolled her eyes, although she did little to hide the bashful blush tickling her cheeks. “Never mind that, did you understand how I worked it out that time?” 

"...Kind of?" Carrie tried, offering a lopsided, hopeful grin to try to lessen the blow.

If Juliet's exasperated huff was anything to go by though: it didn't work. But her frustration dissolved the second that she met Carrie's gaze. "Where did I lose you?" she asked with a gentle, patient sigh. 

"The whole reversing the function bit," Carrie admitted as she bit her lip and braced herself for Juliet's reaction. Although the blonde's expression never wavered, the dismay that flashed in her eyes soon had Carrie barrelling through an explanation. "I swear I was getting it before that this time, but then it all started to sound like you were talking in another language, and then I got distracted by that pretty way you write out the 'x' again, and then I just…"

"...Stopped listening all together?" Juliet teasingly offered with a fond smirk.

Carrie scoffed in mock-defence. "No, I listened the whole time, I just stopped taking it in," she went on to clarify. But as soon as she drew a giggle from Juliet's lips she melted into that same infatuated grin from earlier as she admitted, "I'd never stop listening to you. You know I could listen to you talk for hours."

"Even about algebra?" Juliet teasingly tested with an affectionate smile of her own. 

"Of course about algebra," Carrie gushed with a glittering honesty that soon had Juliet giggling again. "Believe it or not, this is the most I've ever understood a math module," she carried on, straightening up in her seat to help give her point a little more credibility, before tagging on a jovial, "And it's all thanks to you, smarty pants."

"Would you stop calling me that? It's so lame," Juliet protested, hiding her smile behind a frank eye roll. "And besides, I'm not that smart." 

"You so are; you're like the smartest person I know," Carrie gushed, never one to let her friends downplay their successes, much to Juliet's disgruntlement. The blonde's frown didn't deter Carrie from continuing to lovingly babble straight through her stream of consciousness though. "That brain of yours has to be huge - no wonder you get headaches all the time, it's because it doesn't have enough space in there."

Carrie's knack for making herself giggle never failed to make Juliet smile, but yet again she found herself trying to cover it up with a bashful roll of her hazel irises as she let out a sigh and attempted to get their conversation back on track. "You wanna try another question then?" 

"Don't try to change the subject," Carrie fired back with a mischievous grin. 

"I'm not, you are!" Juliet retorted, biting back an incredulous laugh. "We're supposed to be doing algebra, not Juliet 101."

Carrie's mischievous grin only broadened. "Now that's a class I might actually get an A in."

Rolling her eyes for the third time at her best friend's antics, Juliet teasingly tried, "What? Not an A+?"

"Maybe," Carrie smirked. "But then again, I might get distracted by my teacher." Her wiggling eyebrows soon had Juliet reprimanding her and attempting to draw her focus back to her school work, but Carrie's mind was already wandering off too far down a different path altogether. "...Do you think you'd ever wanna be a doctor, Julie?" 

The comment, that fell slap-bang in the middle of Juliet's offer to rewrite the steps of the previous algebra equation, baffled her into silence - so taken aback by the suggestion that she almost thought she'd misheard the golden-haired girl. "What? No," she spluttered, looking at Carrie as though she'd just sprouted a third nose. "Where did that come from?"

Juliet's confusion didn't seem to faze Carrie though, because her dreamy smile stuck it out through her whole, rambling explanation. "I don't know, I just figured you should use your big brain for a job one day. You know, like one that actually actually makes you think instead of just like a working a cash register, or stacking books or something. And you need to be super smart to be a doctor, so…"

Juliet was quick to shoot down Carrie's optimistic grin. "I do not have what it takes to be a doctor, trust me."

"Sure you do," Carrie defended. "I'd let you be my doctor."

"Oh well then hand me my diploma," Juliet sarcastically replied, once more fondly rolling her eyes and chuckling at her best friend's enamoured stare and incessant bolstering. 

"I'm serious," Carrie pressed on though, determined to get through to Juliet despite her doubtful smirk. "I'd trust you with my life, you know I would. I'd let you save my life any day of the week," she grinned. But, after giggling to herself and absentmindedly twirling her pencil between her fingers, when she finally latched onto Juliet's hazel gaze again, only to find it significantly less jovial, it was her turn to express her confusion. "What? You don't believe me?" she teasingly challenged, with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

But Juliet still didn't seem to be in the mood to joke back, as her lips fell in line with the horizon and her gaze darted to Carrie's right before finding her again. 

Ok, now Carrie was really confused. 

"Huh?" she murmured, clearly not as in tune with her best friend's thoughts as she assumed she was. 

However, this time, Juliet flicked her eyes to Carrie's right with a touch more resolve, and paired it with a slight, but very purposeful nod of her head in the same direction. And finally, Carrie seemed to get the message. 

Following Juliet's line of sight, Carrie turned to look over her shoulder, only to find herself face to face with a person that almost caught her off guard as much as Juliet's sudden shift in dynamic had. "Oh," was the first word to jump from her lips, startling her back into what Juliet lovingly dubbed as 'show-mode' as she rolled her shoulders back and fixed a brilliant smile to her face. "Hey, Miles."

The second that Carrie acknowledged Miles, any confidence he'd managed to trick himself into conjuring fled. And whilst he had a Herculean urge to do the same, he too plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile to his face as he finished his approach to the blondes' shared desk. "Hey, Carrie," he said, breathing a sigh of relief for even managing to get the words out. And yet, he still pushed a little further to add, with a nod of acknowledgement too, "Juliet." 

The entertained smirk that started pulling at the corner of Juliet's lips in response caught him off guard, and he felt his stomach gently clench in defence. But he chose to ignore it, returning his gaze to Carrie's bright smile - its familiarity putting him back at ease and igniting that usual fire in his chest that sent warmth spreading throughout his- 

Wait, why was she turning back around? 

"Right, where were we?" Carrie said, dazzling Juliet with a grin as she readied her pencil on the page. "I've got a good feeling about this next one; I think if you just take it slow-."

"Ahem," Juliet interrupted. Her gaze caught Carrie's once again and held onto it for a beat before she tilted her head forwards, signalling with her eyes that there was still something - or rather, someone - behind her. The confusion, almost disbelief, swimming in Carrie's eyes made Juliet have to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, and locking onto Miles' look of bewildered dismay just made it even harder. But luckily, Carrie was quickly able to decipher her visual message once again, with little prompting this time.

Turning around to find that, to her surprise, Miles hadn't just been greeting her as he passed by her desk, he was, in fact, standing there - well, expectantly shuffling from foot to foot anyway - Carrie remounted her smile. Although now, Miles realised, it wasn't so welcoming. It felt almost…uncomfortable.  

"Oh, sorry. Did you want something?" she offered. 

He did - desperately so. And yet, he felt as though the sudden shift in tone had already started to write out his answer. 

The hairs on the back of his neck started to twitch as the walls of his stomach steadily closed in tighter. But, determined to stand by his heart, and prove to himself (and Mick) that his feelings weren't all built on fantasies he'd created in his head, he brushed the unease away and stood his ground. "No, not really. I just thought I'd…stop by…see how it's going."

Carrie's smile faltered again, giving way to further confusion. "...See how what's going?"

"...Study hall?" Miles said. But the response came out as more of a question than an answer, which he supposed was down to the fact that he wasn't even sure of it himself. And despite his hopeful grin, which he feared was now looking more like a grimace, he couldn't seem to stop trying to rub the growing discomfort from the back of his neck. 

God, he hoped that he didn't have any sweat stains. 

"Oh, uh, it's going fine," Carrie politely replied. Although her awkward fidgeting with her pencil's eraser told a different story. "We're just going through the algebra homework."

It was weird; it wasn't as though the conversation was making her seem 'off', it was like…the very fact he was talking to her was so distracting she couldn't settle. She was the centre of Miles' universe. And apparently he was just an asteroid in hers: a misshapen hunk of space rock, hurtling past in the blink of an eye, and completely blindsiding her with his very insignificant existence. 

A fellow asteroid must have collided with him at some point, because he could feel this weird twinge in his chest, by his heart, almost as though the impact had chipped a corner off. He swallowed thickly, pushing the creeping discomfort away. "The one for Mr Moreno's class?" 

"Mhm," Carrie confirmed with a nod. 

"Oh, nice…" Miles trailed off with an awkward chuckle and what he feared was now looking like a rather desperate smile. And he was sure his expression only got worse when his gaze was pulled off-course by Juliet, who gave him a look that made him want to give up altogether. How her hazel irises had managed to harness the ability to hiss 'you are totally blowing this' in his ear, he had no idea. And yet, the urge to prove her (and everyone else) wrong gave him the motivation to plough on. "Well, if you still need any help with it later, I don't mind going through some of the answers with you at wo-"

"It's alright," Carrie bluntly cut in, slicing out a chunk of Miles' self-esteem as she did so. "Julie's got it covered," she added, turning to dazzle the blonde with a brilliant grin. 

By the time that grin made its way around to Miles though, it felt cold. And it seemed suppressed, like she hadn't really wanted him to see it. What he feared was the beginnings of a smirk were tugging at the corners of her lips too. And whilst he wanted to believe that it wasn't at his expense - some cruel inside joke the pair of blondes had whispered with their oh-so talkative eyes in the second that Carrie's back was turned - something in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. 

"Thanks though," Carrie lazily tacked on, with a brightness in her tone that just felt hollow to Miles now. 

"No problem," he breathed. But there was a problem, and he was staring right at her.

Miles tried to find it in him to mean the smile he sent her, but he just couldn't. Somehow, what was supposed to have been a simple conversation between 'friends' had left him feeling more insecure than ever. Why was she so difficult to talk to? And was she making it so difficult? If they'd been at All Skate, cleaning the rink after their shift, he'd have had no trouble talking to her - their conversations flowed like the Mississippi River when it was just the two of them. And yet here, he felt like he was trying to coax water out of a rusty garden tap in the peak of a summer drought. 

He couldn't find the words to piece together what he wanted to ask - he didn't think such a sentence existed, not one that he could construct anyway. Carrie seemed hellbent on getting rid of him, which did nothing for his creeping fear that she was only nice to him at work because she had no other option for company. And the damn heat radiating from Juliet's pitying smirk had so much sweat running down his back he contemplated running to the nearest bathroom to wring out his underwear. 

And somehow, those glittering, sky blue eyes of hers still threw him a line - a glimmer of hope to cling to. After all, she'd surprised him before - countless times - maybe she'd be able to do it again.

Just as Miles was moving to open his mouth to try one last time though, he was beaten to it. 

"Was there anything else you wanted? Or was that it?" 

Any hopes of a redemption for the blonde were snatched from Miles' grasp, and the reality of it felt like a punch to the gut. Thoroughly deflated, he accepted his fate with a heavy sigh. It may not have been the outcome he wanted, but at least he had an answer now, and there was a silver lining to that, he supposed. 

"...No," he breathed through a forlorn, but relieved smile. "That was…that was all."

Miles felt he must have imagined the concern that flickered in Carrie's gaze - wishful thinking, he supposed - because the airy giggle and laidback grin she flashed him certainly didn't marry up with it. "Oh, alright then. See you later!" she chirped with a wave as he started the walk of shame back to his desk. Again, just as he was turning back to offer a farewell of his own though, she managed to get her words in first. "Don't forget your thick socks."

Miles stopped in his tracks. Now he was more confused than ever. The cheeky glint in her eyes, the knowing smile, the reference to a throwaway joke from their closing shift last night… Everything he'd just come to terms with about her vehement disinterest in him had been called into question with those five, simple words, and a wink that just about made his heart stop.

…Maybe she did really care after all. 

With his heart leaping up from its dejected slumber, Miles shot her a grateful smile and chuckled an earnest, "I won't." Breathing out a contented sigh, mind already racing with ways to talk to her about this more that evening, Miles finally felt his shoulders relax as he raised the hand that had been rubbing the back of his neck his whole time. "See you la-"

Nevermind, she'd already turned around to talk to Juliet again. 

Again the brunet was flummoxed. The only thing he felt truly confident about as he slunk back to his desk was the very thing he'd been warned of before wading into that mess: the female mind was a mystery. And he had never felt further from figuring it out.

Turning back to Juliet, Carrie couldn't help but shake her head and chuckle under her breath. "That was weird," she noted, tilting her head in the direction of her retreating co-worker.

But Juliet's eyes had never left the bumbling brunet. "Mmm… He's kind of cute," she mused. Although her prompting smirk was lost on her tutee, since her sapphire gaze was immediately pulled to the back of Miles' head.  

"Yeah." Carrie's breathed response fell from her lips with startling ease, so much so that it even surprised herself. Hoping to catch it before it slipped into Juliet's ears though, she shook the starry-eyed gaze from her head and scrambled together a cover-up. "Uh, yeah? I can try to set the two of you up if you want. You know, put in a good word at work and stuff." 

If she expected Juliet to accept her optimistic offer with open arms though, she was soon proved wrong.

"Yeah something tells me he's not interested in me," she snorted.

Carrie looked at her, perplexed. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't he be? You're like a total babe."

"Oh come on, Carrie. Please tell me you know that he's got a major crush on you," Juliet said with an almost disapproving frown. "Like major major."

Carrie scoffed at the accusation. "It's not major," she tried, rolling her eyes in a further attempt to downplay the gravity of what Juliet was implying. 

"Carrie," Juliet pressed as she knitted her brows. "The guy could barely speak."

Caving under the blonde's hardened gaze, Carrie let out a resentful huff. "Ok fine, so he's got a little crush," she finally conceded. "What's so bad about that? It's not like anything's gonna happen; he knows I've got a boyfriend."

"Mhm… And what does Eric have to say about Miles?"

Carrie rolled her eyes so hard Juliet thought for a second that they might never come back down again. "Why does it matter?" she groaned, her skin prickling with irritation. 

"Well he's not exactly got the best track record when it comes to being understanding about you hanging out with other guys," Juliet sighed, with a sneaking suspicion that her tutee's frustration had been triggered by the mention of her boyfriend's name alone: a welcome sign that their relationship was as healthy as ever. Not.

Carrie scoffed as a bitter scowl settled into place. "It's not like I'm 'hanging out with him', we just work together. I barely talk to him during my shift anyway, only when we're clearing stuff up at the end."

"Oh yeah?" Juliet started, curiosity piqued. "And what happens then?"

"Nothing!" Carrie insisted. "We just talk - you know me, I can't keep my mouth shut even when I want to, so of course I'm gonna talk to the guy." Letting out a sigh to try to blow off some steam, she softened under Juliet's gaze and allowed the blonde to lead her through her haze of thoughts. And if Juliet's gentle nudge in the right direction wasn't already enough to do the trick, one glance at Miles' retreating form completely burst the dam. "We've been talking for like the whole last hour of every shift since I started - about school, movies, whatever really - it's like the only thing in that dump that's worth sticking around for. I kind of just did it because I was bored out of my mind at the start, but turns out he's actually really fun, and sweet too - you wouldn't believe some of the stuff he does for his little brothers, Julie; I've literally gone and cried in the break room before after he was telling me about it. It's that cute." 

"You cry at everything," Juliet countered with a fond, teasing chuckle. 

"Oh come on, not everything," Carrie retorted. Naively hoping that their conversation on the matter had ended there, she let her eyes settle on Juliet's again, only for them to inch open the floodgates once more with a simple bat of her lashes and a tilt of her head. "We just talk and…goof around," she tentatively began - defensive, despite her nonchalance. "You know, make each other laugh about weird things customers have said, or stupid things we did. It's not like we're fooling around or anything. And before you say it, because I know that face: no, I am not leading him on. It's all totally platonic, I swear."

"Ok…" Juliet softly trailed off, taking a moment to choose her words before raising her next point. "Does Miles know it's all 'totally platonic'?"

Carrie let out a groan of despair, as she always did when her best friend lovingly lectured her. "I don't know, Jules. I'm not a mindreader. He's not grabbed my ass or spiked my water bottle, if that's what you're getting at," she grumbled, before promising, "I've got it all under control, I swear."

Somehow, Juliet didn't seem to be buying it; as impervious to Carrie's confident charm as ever. 

"So Eric's totally chill about this whole thing with Miles?" she tested, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.  

"He knows I work with him…" Carrie mumbled.

Juliet nodded understandingly - almost too understandingly - in Carrie's periphery. 

"...And does he know how he makes you feel?"

Daring to challenge Juliet's calculated point with ignorant defiance, Carrie whirled around to meet the blonde's smug expression with a gasp of indignation, and an argument that fell away the second she realised that she didn't have a single word in her head to back it up with. Admitting defeat, she sighed and let her body slump, along with her hopes of her vindication in her best friend's hazel eyes. "Ok, yeah, fine. I know Miles has a crush on me," she confessed. Although the guilt laced into her words steadily morphed into hurt the more she tried to defend herself. "And yeah, I do lean into it sometimes because it makes me feel good about myself. Is that really so bad? Is it such a bad thing to want someone to be extra nice to you for once? Or to give you some positive attention?" 

"No, of course not," Juliet assured, assuming a fierce determination of her own. "I just think your boyfriend should be able to do all those things and more, and clearly he's not."

Carrie sighed, exhausted by the very thought of him. "This isn't about Eric."

Juliet sighed back, exasperated by her best friend's submissiveness, especially when she was usually so domineering. "How can you still want to defend him, Carrie?"

"Because, I love him, Julie," Carrie replied, finally finding the contented smile the thought of him should have immediately slapped on her face. "And because he's a good guy."

"Really? Because he's been nothing but a dick to you lately," Juliet flatly countered, hoping that with a little pushing her friend would see sense. 

"We've just had a couple of arguments, it's not a big deal," Carrie casually defended. "And they're all resolved now, so I don't know what you still have to complain about."

"Just because you had make-up sex does not mean that the problems were resolved," Juliet rolled her eyes before fixing the golden-haired girl with a more earnest look. "Did he actually apologise this time?"

"We talked it out first-"

"Did he apologise?"

Carrie squirmed under Juliet's gaze before muttering a reluctant, "No."

"Ugh," Juliet groaned, rolling her eyes again as she wound up to unleash a rant she'd been working up to for weeks. But, to her dismay, Carrie's defences beat her to it.

"Neither of us did, really. We just agreed to forget it and move on."

"How is that resolving anything?" Juliet asked with an annoyed frown that Carrie was starting to take personally. 

"Well I hadn't thought about it until now, so it must have at least kind of worked," she attempted to justify. 

But Juliet's nettled scoff told her that her stance on the matter wasn't budging. "You and Eric might as well speak two different languages; I've seen a pig and a fly communicate better than you two." 

The comment drew a giggle from Carrie's lips before she could stop it. "Don't try to distract me with your cute, Southern lingo," she said as the amused smile settled on her face and she affectionately bumped her friend's arm - the act bringing both their tempers back down to Earth. Before Juliet could launch into another lecture though, Carrie hoped to diffuse the situation once and for all. "Anyway, we worked it all out and everything's back to normal," she said. Although Juliet's questioning glance made her correct herself, "Better than normal. In fact, we're going to go look for Halloween costumes together this weekend," she finished with an optimistic grin. 

Now that was an improvement. For the first time since they'd sat down, Juliet found herself pleasantly surprised. "The Barbie and Ken costume's back on? I'm impressed. You two really must be getting along." Knowing how excited Carrie had been about the idea, she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of it finally coming into fruition. 

"Oh no, the Ken idea's long gone. I think he's going as a firefighter or something now."

Juliet's optimism shattered in a split second, and yet she stayed frozen in place, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "...You're kidding, right?"

"No, but I don't really mind. I'll just find something else to go as," Carrie sighed through a small, indifferent smile. If she'd spotted the disgust hidden in Juliet's eyes after her last revelation, she chose to ignore it. "It'll be fun getting to plan out my own costume anyway; I've got so many more options now. And plus, the Barbie one was only gonna be a pain in the ass to-"

"You're not even doing a couples one?" Juliet asked, far too concerned with what she was learning to care about hearing out Carrie's excuses. 

"He thinks couples costumes are lame," she explained with a huff. "Or at least that's what Adam told him anyway. He said he wanted to just do his own thing."

"But Carrie, you've been excited about doing a joint costume with him for like a whole year."

"So?" Carrie asked, with an eyebrow quirk of her own, shoving the accusation aside as though she was kicking an ice cube under the refrigerator. "It's just a dumb Halloween party, it doesn't matter what we wear; everyone will probably be too drunk to even pay attention anyway."

"Yeah, but it matters that he doesn't care about stuff that's important to you. He never has, and it's selfish, Carrie - super selfish…" Juliet trailed off with a frustrated sigh, praying that she might finally get the ditzy DJ to see sense. "You need to stop defending his shitty behaviour."

"And do what?" Carrie mumbled, unknowingly giving Juliet just what she wanted: a chance to unleash her anger with the infantile blond bozo and the mockery of a relationship he had roped her best friend into.

"Hold him accountable," she urged, hazel eyes blazing with passion. "Relationships should not have to revolve around making excuses and placating your partner with blow jobs - it's a fucking joke. I don't care about all the 'good times' you guys have, or all the memories you've made; the way you've been treating each other lately is appalling, and you deserve way better," she said, pausing to let Carrie absorb everything she'd just thrown at her before delivering the finishing blow. "And I know you know that too, because you're already looking for it in someone else."

Carrie's blood stilled in her veins. Sometimes it scared her how deeply Juliet understood her, and other times it felt comforting. This was not one of those times. 

She took in a slow, shuddering breath as Juliet's words seeped into her skin, carrying a deep sense of guilt with them. As much as she wanted to denounce Juliet's observations and stand by her own, joyously declaring her undying love for her boyfriend at the top of her lungs…her mouth made no attempt to move from its crestfallen frown. It couldn't, because she knew she was wrong. 

The despondency in the blonde's vacant, blue eyes soon drew Juliet down from her soap box though. This time she approached with a gentle, almost apologetic, smile as she entwined their fingers and began rubbing circles into the back of her tanned hand with the pad of her thumb. "I just want what's best for you, Car," she quietly promised. 

"I know," Carrie murmured, mustering a grateful smile as she squeezed her hand back, as though to say a 'thank you' her mouth wasn't quite ready to commit to yet. "I'm fine, Julie, I swear," she went on to profess. But when she started to get a sneaking suspicion that the statement wasn't all that convincing, she decided to switch up her tactic. "Now can we please get back to algebra?" 

The genuine laughter that tumbled from Juliet's lips was music to Carrie's ears. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say," Juliet chuckled as she picked up her pencil again. 

"I'll do anything to get us talking about something else," Carrie admitted with a woeful chuckle of her own. "And besides, I think I've got a better chance of wrapping my head around this than anything to do with my love life at the moment."

"Boyfriends suck, huh?" Juliet snorted with a knowing smirk.

"Try all boys suck," Carrie countered with a smirk of her own, at last feeling as though some of her signature confidence was leaching back into her frame. Although the pair's giggles took a few seconds to die back down, a mischievous glint remained in Carrie's eyes before she let them glaze over in thought. Mind idly wandering down untrodden paths, a wistful sigh escaped alongside a rogue proposal. "Wouldn't it make life so much easier if we could take them out of the equation altogether?"

Carrie was too lost in thought to notice, but the words that left her mouth forced an entire systems reboot in Juliet's brain. She had to do a double take, certain that she must have misheard her, or had at least missed the joking undertone. But no, the glassy, pensive blue irises held nothing but sincerity. And that confused Juliet more than ever. Her mind whirred with possible explanations for the brainless musings that definitely didn't sound as though they came from a girl in a committed, heterosexual relationship, but before she dared to question her on any, a tanned hand, the size of a frying pan, pulled her prospective interview subject right out of her seat. 

Carrie's eyes widened as she was whisked into a pair of cotton-clad arms the size of tree trunks, hardly able to catch her breath before it was being exchanged for someone else's. A faintly stubbled smile pressed into hers several times before she fully regained her bearings and was able to catch the frying pan hand from travelling too far south of her waist. "Eric," she giggled once she finally managed to inch their lips far enough apart to mumble a greeting against his skin. A subsequent flurry of kisses kept her from elaborating any further though. It was a wonder they didn't pass out from lack of air. 

"Hi, beautiful," he eventually greeted with a smitten grin. But their lips didn't stay apart for long as the dopey quarterback seemed hellbent on keeping his coated in his girlfriend's saliva. "You have a good study hall?" he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against hers. His roaming fingers shattered any hope of his interest in her life being genuine though.

Even if Carrie had wanted to answer Eric's question, his tongue was shoved so far down her throat she couldn't get her words out. "Eric," she finally gasped, jerking her head back from his with a breathy laugh as she felt his thumb start to lift the hem of her cheerleading skirt. "You're gonna get us both detention." 

"I can't help it," he chuckled, pulling her back towards him for another seemingly endless stream of kisses. "I missed you." And whilst a stupefied grin played at his constantly interlocking lips, something didn't feel quite right with Carrie. Her kisses were lazy, almost reluctant, and whilst her body normally felt like putty between his palms, today it felt…stiff. She seemed distracted. And because Eric's head was only ever swimming with thoughts of her, this worried him. "Hey," he gently prompted, nudging her chin with his knuckle to bring her gaze up to meet his. "Everything ok?"

Carrie's breath stuck in her throat, too scared of getting caught in the crossfire of two sets of brown eyes to dare to leave. Eric's sat beneath a pair of thick, furrowed brows, marred with insecure concern, and she could feel Juliet's boring holes into the back of her skull, begging her to remember everything they’d just spoken about. Tensions were high in her usually spacious brain - thoughts flying back and forth too quickly for her to make sense of as she tried to let her conscience guide her in the right direction. And although she felt herself inching towards a blonde ponytail-bolstered confession, her conscience's valiant efforts were all for naught. Carrie's fingers found purchase in the bristly blond hairs at the nape of Eric's neck, her cheeks were dusted in the scent of spearmint and the sweaty must from his football helmet. The profound warmth of his embrace seeped into her bones, and she curled up into it like a cat in the glow of fireplace embers - helpless to resist. "Everything's great," she promised, drawn in by the comfort of familiarity. "I just missed you too."

Disappointed, but not surprised by her best friend's decision, Juliet sighed as she tore her gaze away from the stomach-churning couple and began gathering together her and Carrie's things. She'd get through to her eventually, she had faith in the pit of her steadily grumbling gut. She just needed to be patient…or to find something that could drive a wedge between them once and for all.

"Ethan!" 

The pint-size pothead almost jumped out of his skin at the barked greeting, which actually felt more like an accusation than a 'hello'. He didn't know what was more offensive, the girl's tone or the fact that she'd interrupted his concert-for-one. 

"Jesus, Mick! You scared the shit outta me!" he cried. 

Rolling her eyes, Mick let go of the headphone speaker she'd had to pry away from Ethan's ear after he'd blatantly ignored her fifth call of his name, letting it thwack the side of his head. The look on his face as he recoiled in bewilderment did have a faint smile tugging at her lips though. But it soon disappeared when he slumped back in his seat and readied himself to tune her out again. 

Moving to stand in front of his desk, Mick didn't give him a chance. "Where's Miles?" 

"What?" Ethan squeaked.

"Where's Miles?" she reiterated, crossing her arms across her chest and nodding at the empty seat beside him.

"He's talking to Carrie," he revealed with a blasé wave of his hand in the vague direction of the pair.

Even with AC/DC blasting through his headphones, Ethan swore he heard Mick's face crack.

"He's doing what now?" she demanded, flames roaring in the mahogany logs that made up her irises. 

"He's just asking her something, it's no big deal," Ethan said - although his attempts to reassure the brunette were ham-handed at best given his lazy grin and total lack of concern. 

This was further backed up by Mick's growing urge to strangle him. "Can I not trust you to do anything?" she hissed. 

"What did I do?" Ethan squawked in indignation.

"Nothing - that's the problem! All you had to do was keep his mind off her-" 

"I don't know what fucking mind-control powers you think I've got, Mick, but that was a bogus plan in the first place."

"Oh so what? You just weren't gonna go along with it at all?" Mick scoffed. "I just said to try to keep him distracted."

"And I tried, so I don't know what you're getting all pissy at me for," Ethan retorted. "What's so wrong with him talking to her anyway? I thought 'working through your feelings' was supposed to be a good thing."

Scowling at him for using her own advice against her, she snapped, "Talking to her is not helping him distance himself from her." But when her eyes scanned the room for that familiar mop of coffee brown hair, the sight it settled on made her heart drop to her collegiate green Campuses. "And neither is a run-in with Eric Brennan."

Trailing back to his seat, muttering to himself about the mystifying female mindset and what the hell all of that could have meant, Miles soon realised he wasn't looking where he was going when he collided with what felt like a wall of meat. 

"Shit, sorry," he muttered.

When he looked up and saw who it was that had almost knocked him off his feet though, he realised his assumption hadn't been too far off.

"Woah, watch it, man," Eric guffawed.

The amused twinkle in his eye, and the smirk that blossomed as soon as his gaze landed on him, made Miles' stomach twist. Something told him that this interaction wasn't going to be nearly as quick as he'd hoped. 

"Miles, right?" Eric went on to ask, eyebrow cocked in recognition. 

"Uh, yeah," Miles stammered, although he was more confused than concerned at this point. 

"Why you in such a hurry, bud? You got somewhere to be?" he continued, a charming smirk still sitting proudly on his chiselled jaw. 

"I'm just going back to my seat."

"Oh yeah?" Eric probed, steadily turning up the pressure. "And why were you out of it?"

Miles immediately regretted the exasperated huff that fell from his lips, but he couldn't help his frustration. "Why does it matter?" 

To Miles' surprise, the jock didn't snap back at his remark - there was no sign of meat-headed defensiveness at all. Instead, the guy just laughed. "It doesn't," he reassured with a jovial smile. "I just thought I'd ask 'cause, you know, from here it kind of looked like you were going over there to talk to my girlfriend." 

Any relief that jovial smile had filled Miles with steadily leaked out as Eric's words sunk in. "I was just asking her about our work schedule," he explained with a careful, albeit tight smile of his own. 

"Yeah?" Eric tested.

"...Yeah," Miles confirmed. Although he could feel his bravery slowly shrinking under the hulking weight of Eric's arched eyebrow, he stood his ground, hoping that a nonchalant tone and a set of squared shoulders was enough to convince the dopey blond.

"Oh well, that's a relief," he said with another booming guffaw. Miles' wishes were seemingly granted as the warning smirk slipped from Eric's face, replaced with a laidback grin. "There I was thinking you might have been trying to make a move on her or something."

Miles managed to eke out a chuckle, more at his own expense than anything. "I wouldn't do that, man," he promised through a freshly starched smile. "I know you're both very happy together."

Eric's shit-eating grin must have been powered by at least three AAs with the way it lit up his face. "That we are, my man," he proudly proclaimed. "And that's good to hear 'cause I know you spend a lot of time with her at the end of your shifts, and she says you two get along super well, so I'd hate to think that you were getting the wrong idea or-"

"Not at all," Miles assured, cutting the blond off before he could drive the knife any further into his chest. Fixing a plastic smile to his face to cover up the wistful sigh that escaped between his teeth, he delivered an admittedly painful, "We're just friends."

Eric's rich brown eyes seemed to scan every inch of Miles for any sign of a lie before he proceeded, and the brunet's lack of acting skills left him squirming like a worm on a hook as a result. But the satisfied grin that soon surfaced, dropping the tensed shoulders to help it rise, told Miles the quarterback probably needed an eye test. 

"Good," Eric said with a contented sigh. "'Cause you and I both know that it'd be stupid to think anything else, right?" he went on to cockily taunt. "Like, no offence, but she'd have to be fucking insane to choose you over me… Right, Miles?" 

Although his ego was severely bruised, to save his face from meeting the same fate, Miles forced himself to maintain a smile, albeit reluctantly. "Right," he confirmed.

"That's what I thought," Eric smirked, finally satisfied that Miles had taken enough of an emotional pounding if his lazy grin and affectionate arm bump was anything to go by. "Alright, nice talk, bro. I might catch you tonight if I drop by to see her, ok?"

"I'll be there," Miles verified with a strained sigh. Finally daring to drop his gaze from the sturdy blond, he made his escape without so much as a goodbye.  

Apparently Eric thought he could take a little advice on the road with him though. 

"Remember, watch yourself, Murphy," he hollered.

But the words didn't even register with Miles, because the swift shove between his shoulder blades was so jarring his entire focus was dragged to keeping himself upright. 

Miles kept his eyes trained on the scuffed linoleum as he hastily lumbered back over to his desk, cheeks burning with self-hatred as he tried to push Eric’s no doubt smirking face out of his mind. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice that he finally dared to lift his head again. 

“Are you ok?” Mick asked, expression overrun with an almost frantic concern. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine,” Miles brushed off, retrieving his threadbare backpack from its spot, slumped on the floor in one swoop. Haphazardly shoving the books from his desk into the main compartment, he mumbled a quick, “Can we just go?” 

But Ethan’s glassy-eyed intrigue held him firmly in place. “Yo, what happened, man? Did he bust you for flirting with her?” 

“No,” Miles sighed, wearily shaking his head at the stoner’s excitement. 

“Did you flirt with her?” he pressed. 

"No, I just- ugh," Miles huffed, quickly giving up on trying to explain the situation he didn't even fully understand himself. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

"I told you to just forget about her," Mick sighed. 

"Yeah, well, that's a lot easier said than done, Mick," Miles retorted, returning her disapproving frown with a defensive one of his own. 

"Did you at least get some closure?" Ethan offered as he rose from his desk - partly from curiosity, partly to try to prove a point to Mick. 

Whilst Miles' tongue instinctively prepared to shoot Ethan's optimism down, his brain jumped in to tell it to hold fire. And after a few, brief seconds recalling the interaction, his answer soon changed. "Actually, I kind of did," he admitted with a chuckle of incredulity. 

"You gonna try to talk about it more with her tonight then?" Ethan asked, smirking to himself at Mick's look of disbelief. 

"Fuck no," Miles snorted with a nonchalance that took both of his friends by surprise. "I just want to forget it ever happened- just…move on."

"From her?" Mick asked, trying to hide the hopeful edge in her tone with a gentle smile.

Sparing the blonde in question one last glance over his shoulder, only to catch the tail end of her and Eric getting pulled up for their excessive PDA by their (up until now) entirely uninterested study hall supervisor, he let out a wistful sigh. A chorus of voices swelled in his head - Mick's, Ethan's, Carrie's, Eric's - each one telling a different side to the same story. He couldn't have picked one to listen to if he'd tried. So, in the end, his own took over, steering his heart down a path that promised the least damage in the long term, and that Carrie's indifferent dismissal of him had already forged in his mind. "...That's the goal."

[annemariearcher]

Chapter 115 Thoughts

I don't actually have much to say about this chapter, since it was really just a lead-in for the upcoming fight between the Fukuchi singularity and sskk, but...

Killing Teruko right after giving us a few pages of her tragic backstory? Dick move, Asagiri. Appropriately tragic, given the circumstances, but still...dick move.

Also...those revelations about Teruko's Ability? SUPER FUCKED UP. Like, that's one of the most fucked-up Abilities we've seen thus far.

It appears that Fyodor does indeed retain bits and pieces of the people he's subsumed, which means he's even more fucked in the head than we thought. Like, depending on how many times he's stolen bodies, this dude could basically be a hundred guys in a trench coat. No way is he anything but batshit crazy.

Fyodor is also a pathological liar, confirmed!

Fukuzawa needs a damn break.

Apparently, the vampires are still in play because "echoes" of Bram's Ability still exist. So Akutagawa is still a vampire. Hm. Interesting implications.

Aya's gonna need one hell of a therapist after this.

So...uh...what the fuck happened to Ranpo? Did he just get blown away by the explosion? Is he lying upside down in a ditch somewhere? Hopefully, he's still in one piece.

Hate to tell you, Atsushi, but that big pillar of light is the introduction for the next major villain you have to fight. Sorry, buddy.

I hope we see a few more characters in 116. I want to know what everyone else is doing, besides gawking in horror.

Welp, guess that's all till next month. I'd say happy reading, but...uh...this chapter was just pretty depressing, wasn't it?

[genshinology]

AN INFLUENTIAL MAN’S COMPANION (OR IS IT MORE?!)

(alternatively, how they are dropping hints left and right that you are more than just a friend.)

— PAIRINGS ; alhaitham, ayato & childe x gn!reader (separate)

— CONTENT ; oblivious!reader, may contain a spoiler from sumeru's story quest on alhaitham's, mentions of childe's real name (ajax), reader is addressed as “little bug” in childe's (please, it's just a poorly written joke, i swear).

— NOTES ; don't care what everyone says but a man that has the power and money is definitely a man that i want. wrote this on a whim so 'm sorry for the horrible writing and the lack of details in this.

☆ — ALHAITHAM

"why are you so dense?" alhaitham's question caught you off guard, considering the fact that you were so immersed with yet another history book of teyvat in the akademiya's house of daena.

his sudden question made you unknowingly gazed at him with annoyance (it wasn't your fault though, not when he actually interrupted your reading of the fourth chapter), and you quickly bookmarked the page you had last read before actually paying full attention to the scribe across you.

"dense is not really a word to describe me. i think i catch on things around me quite fast," you huffed out, exaggeratedly bumping your forehead onto the desk. a silent thud was heard afterwards, not necessarily loud enough for other people to hear, but alhaitham definitely caught on the hint you mentally saying that you were bored and the fact that he took away the only form of your entertainment by taking away the thick book from you made you squinted your eyes at him.

your eyes prying at his action. he was an unpredictable man, so you couldn't question what he did. especially when the question of, "do you know what is the context of this book?" suddenly came out from his mouth.

"uhm.. yes?" you stopped thinking too deep when alhaitham's gaze zeroed straight into you, signalling that you should be answering his question more precisely. "a book about teyvat; the seven nations, the archon war, the history, the irminsul, the heavenly principles, the fatui, the abyss—

"ah yes, sounds like classified information, isn't it?" alhaitham cut you off, showing the old cover page with a knowing look that you couldn't really decipher. "you do realise that this book comes from the restricted repository room?" alhaitham was questioning you, slightly smiled when he saw how the gears in your brains were slowly turning and you finally understood what he was trying to point out.

"wait. you are right. it makes sense now, how incomplete certain details are since the book itself covers forbidden knowledge.." you put your right palm underneath your jaw, still in disbelief at the fact that the book in his hold was a restricted material for general use to the scholars and the public.

"not really the brightest mind," he paused. "that's why i said you are, indeed, a slow-witted person," he shook his head, his own work was slowly forgotten amidst the conversation he accidentally forced you into.

"that is just saying 'stupid' in a more formal manner. i am truly offended," you sighed, noting the way alhaitham seemed taken aback at the last sentence you gave to him.

alhaitham could only put down the book in front of you. "..and i am offended as well. you don't even think that i am using my authority to give you access to this one book you have been super interested in these days, haven't you?"

he turned away after seconds of eye contact, especially when your eyes widened and you felt how your cheeks were hurting due to the shock. "you.. did this for me? not exactly the first thing i would think of, especially if it's from the scribe of the akademiya."

you smiled, way too wide and alhaitham thought he was holding his breath for a moment. "thank you, you're so kind."

'kind' wasn't what he really expected you to say, specifically when he, himself, wasn't filled with kindness and tenderness alike. the you that he knew would be instantly flustered if you ever knew the true meaning of his intention when he first directed you with those questions.

he could only laughed heartlessly at your statement, thinking that you must have never received this much attention from someone, or that you really treated him as a true friend.

"i do not do this for some mere scholars, just so you know that you are exceptional."

☆ — AYATO

"my lord," you bowed down, giving ayato the respectable approach that he deserved. "is there something you would like me to help?"

ayato was a diligent and a busy man, that was the first thing you had noticed when he first took you right under his wing. his smile specifically was something you swore would be your death one day, he was too charming for your own good.

"come here," his bright face made you ten times more nervous than ever. "also, please, drop the formalities. we are hidden from the public view."

the last sentence was way too intimate, but you decided that it must have been his figure of speech.

"yes, my lord—i mean, ayato," you slightly cringed at the way his name rolled off your tongue not-so-eloquently. something about calling him by his name, even without his family name, felt super uncivil to you.

he had done so much for you, so to hear his request of doing what you had been accustomed to was hard.

so you could only stumble forward awkwardly, hands clasping together to stop yourself from shaking a little bit too much. why did he always bring out the nervousness within you in private? did he really had these effects?

"here, sit down," ayato's calligraphy pen halted its movement, and it didn't help to calm you down when he patted the sit beside his chair.

"i'm sorry, my lord," the title accidentally slipped away nonetheless, and you decided to ignore the look in his eyes—as if he was hurting by the fact that you didn't address his name, but he possibly couldn't be that childish, it was the commissioner after all—as he quickly regained his composure. "you need my help to assort these paperworks?"

"it is fine, y/n," oh, the fact that he didn't address your first name made you knew he did feel slightly dejected.

you quickly made up your action by swiftly gliding onto the chair he already pulled out underneath his study. for a moment, you were stunned at the act of a gentleman he usually did to you. he was so kind, and you knew that you were super lucky to have him as your employer.

"i don't want you to do anything today. you can rest up until tomorrow," he said, slightly rummaging some precious items he kept in the drawer. you knew those items in there were far more important to him, especially when it also had his late father's will that was neatly preserved in the sakura-scented letter he and ayaka made a long time ago. it was honestly a cute activity for them now that you reminisced the memory.

"is there any occasion? or you will be away?" you asked him, and you could see his eyes lightened up at the way his hand reached out to yours, and you were left baffled.

his hand was warm, that was the first thing you noted. besides when you felt something smooth in your palm, you questioned the foreign thing in your hand.

it was a necklace, with a lighter hue of blue as its pendant. your intrusive thought won you over as you saw how the pendant resembled ayato's hydro vision to an extent. it was ethereal, at least in your eyes.

by the feel of it, you already knew this necklace's worth had already exceeded your wage.

"ayato?"

"it is for you. i was buying one for ayaka when i was reminded of you, y/n," he warmly explained, his sincere eyes were too much for you as you avoided his eye contact.

your beating heart felt dangerous as ever. his hands were still engulfing yours, as if to keep you from shying away.

"take it. it would mean a lot to me."

"thank you, sir-ayato," you corrected yourself, and ayato thought it was adorable of you to stutter around him.

his heart was content when you thanked him over and over again.

if giving the necklace was a metaphor to his love letter, then he would be overjoyed when he saw you roaming around his estate with the necklace on you the next day.

☆ — CHILDE

"today's a really nice day," childe sighed happily, as he picked you up from the ground, and you repeatedly punched his back, flailing in his arms to put you down.

"ajax!" you gasped, who wouldn't be in shock, when you were literally caught off guard by his attack and then your feet weren't touching the snowy path anymore. "put me down."

"ehem, manners, please," he faked a cough.

you could only kick around, although none of your actions would actually affect him physically. "i am almost going to swear at you, you know?"

"put me down, please," you tried to whisper into his ear, so that he would feel ticklish by the air that escaped from you.

"gross," he commented, and before you knew it, he already let you go from his somewhat soothing hold onto your body. "need to disinfect my ear after this."

you slapped his arm after hearing his bad joke, roughly enough to get his focus onto you. "let me do it with the bug spray i have at home. i hope it'll cleanse your whole soul too."

"touché," childe cracked a smile at hearing you almost choked on your breath. "aren't you my little bug?"

"don't you have a cuter nickname for me? seriously, bug? out of all lovelier things on this world?" at this point, you had already clinging onto childe's side, hyper aware at some people who had been watching the playful fight between you two for some time now.

childe noticed the way you practically glued to him, your hand fisting the sweater he wore, and childe could only thought that your ministration would only bring a misunderstanding, especially that one which people always commented on when they saw both of you.

"look at you two."

childe could only smile at the old lady that passed by him. "couple fights are normal, until the old days. i hope you're having a great time," the old lady patted your back, and when you were about to clear the misunderstanding he had always loved, the old lady left.

"w-what?" you turned to childe whom somehow looked at you fondly, and you could only voiced out your opinion on the cold day. "that old lady is not making any sense."

"—and you, ajax," you continued when you caught childe slacking from paying his full focus attentively to you, as he only shrugged his shoulder. "...are you really going to leave again?"

"hm?" he hummed, and thought to himself that you were so adorable in his spare sweater, fighting against the chilly wind and hesitating to actually say that you would miss him if he went to liyue for his work again.

"of course. it is my duty for the tsaritsa, and no, you won't be going to join me this time. have you forgotten when you almost got hit by the fatui because they were belittling you?" childe quickly cut you off when he saw how your lips twitching at his words, knowing too well that you would suggest the idea of venturing to liyue with him. the last time he accepted your idea, he almost blamed himself fully if one of his subordinates hurt you. he could only thank the archons that nothing too severe happened on you.

"b-but—

"and, our date for today went exceptionally well, wasn't it? you won't miss me like you have always did before," he winked, and you almost threw your fist at his face if you could. "i am going there for a week. i'll be back before you know it."

"right. let's stop now before your teasing goes too far ahead of yourself," you rolled your eyes, and only did you notice that you were still holding him dearly.

you quickly pulled your hand, and childe swore he had already missed the way you stayed close by his side. he was definitely smitten, he knew it.

"thank me later for wasting my money on you," childe laughed at the way you tried to run away from his grasp.

if he could, he would voice out loud that he really didn't care about his money, as long as you were happy with him, and it frustrated him a little bit that you really thanked him for that when all he wanted to say was that he loved you too.

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[winterrrnight]

“the blue in your eyes” — new beginnings chapter IV

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe cameron x mom!reader

WARNINGS: n/a

EDITH SPEAKS: I am so so sorry for the break I took with updating this! I'll try to be much more regular now <3 <3 please reblog if you enjoyed this and share all your thoughts 💞😊 I am sorry if this feels super boring right now but honestly it wasn't ever really meant to really interesting either 😭😭

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It’s been over one week since Sage joined Rafe’s class. You've noticed the big increase in her happiness; she comes home with a big grin gracing her face, and she proudly shows you her art pieces and small arithmetic and alphabet assignments she did with a huge good star adorning almost each one of them.

“Mamma look, Fafe gave me a star!” She would tell you, jumping around as you look at the star, along with the ‘very well done!’ written next to it.

You’re on your way to pick her up from the school, after finishing up with your own work. As you walk inside the school, you notice Rafe, Sage, and the rest of her classmates sitting in the grass in a circle. You can hear the little children giggling and Rafe laughing along with them. You can't help but smile at the sight; watching Rafe being extremely sweet with the children, always praising them when they do the little things right.

“Okay Sage it’s your turn,” Rafe smiles, handing her a football. “What do you love most?”

“My mamma!” She says, without hesitating even for a second. You softly gasp as you hear those words come from her mouth, deciding to stay here just for a moment more to see how this conversation unfolds.

“And what do you love about her?” Rafe asks her next, the smile still tugging on the corners of Rafe’s lips.

“She is pretty,” Sage sighs. “and she makes me happy.”

Hearing Sage not only call you pretty, but say you make her happy has tears pricking your eyes quickly. A soft smile takes over your face as you watch how Sage glows talking about you, her sweet grin never leaving her, and her little pigtails bouncing when she nods her head. These are the moments when you realize how lucky you are to have Sage in your life.

In the next few minutes Rafe wraps up the class and more parents appear to pick up their children. As Sage spots you, she comes rushing you and clutches onto your legs, hugging them tightly.

“Hey baby,” you smile, bending down to her level as you press a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She looks up at you and nods her head, a grin on her face. Although you can see she’s feeling tired, her eyes droopy and yawns escaping her lips. “Good day,” she smiles at you, and hugs you. You hug her back, his head nuzzling in your neck. You laugh as you pick her up, her resting on your hip. Just as you get up, you see Rafe looking at you from a distance. You can't help but smile at him, and he waves at you.

A few seconds pass and you’re still looking at him, a smile persistent on your face. Sage’s body relaxes in your arms, and you see she’s almost asleep. You give Rafe a small nod of your head and walk back to where your car is parked.

You set Sage in her car seat, her now being completely asleep. As you close her door, you turn around to see Rafe walking to you.

“Hey,” you smile at him as he approaches you.

“Hi,” he says back, a similar smile on his face. You take a moment to look in his bright blue eyes, the light shining on them to make them seem even brighter than usual.

He takes a look into the car window, seeing the small resting body of Sage. “She’s very smart, you know? And a bright ray of sunshine,” he says, smiling fondly at her.

“I wouldn’t doubt that, she absolutely adores you,” I say. “She comes back home each day with a huge smile on her face,” I sigh, my smile not leaving my face.

“She is just… such a beautiful addition to the class,” Rafe says softly. A moment of silence passes over you two as you steal a glance at Sage in your car, her resting deeply in her seat. The cotton floss clouds slowly shift in the sky, small streaks of golden, hazy sunlight falling on you two.

Just for a second, you see the sunlight strike across Rafe’s eyes, and they seem a brighter blue than usual. Not the usual navy blue, but a sapphire blue instead; the pupil seeming even darker. Your own eyes almost widen at the ethereal sight; it seems as if his eyes just changed colors.

“Uh y/n?” Rafe calls softly. You blink yourself out of your daze and let a small smile grace your face, noticing how the sunrays aren’t falling across his eyes anymore and they’ve returned to their usual dark blue.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, you just seemed a little lost there… is everything alright?” He asks, furrowing his brows a little.

And it happens again.

The sunlight falls, and the electric blue appears again. But you try your best to not distract yourself much from it.

“Yeah yeah,” you say, “everything’s alright,”

Silence falls over you two again, but it’s short lived before Rafe speaks again.

“Listen I uh… I wanted to ask you something,” Rafe says. You tilt your head slightly, your brows furrowed slightly.

“Hm?” You hum, wanting him to continue.

He seems to be fumbling with his words, not knowing what to say as his gaze refuses to meet yours, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“I was wondering if…” he takes a deep breath, and you notice his hands are at his back, and your first intuition is that he’s probably fiddling with his fingers the way he seems so flustered. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab some coffee with me sometime…” He says, and his voice fades by the end of the sentence, the words dissolving in the air around you.

The creases in your forehead relax and your eyes widen slightly as you process the words.

You and Rafe. Out for coffee. That sounds like a date…

“I mean, we don’t have to have coffee, we can go to some other place if that’s more of your thing…” he rambles. “We don’t even have to go to some food place, we can go for uh… movies and such, or uh… an art museum maybe…”

You can’t help but softly smile at him. His cheeks tinted with a light pink as he rambles on, listing possible locations of where you can go as his gaze refuses to meet yours. It feels as if you’re a teenager, your first crush asking you out.

“Rafe,” you say softly, and he looks up at you. “The offer is beautiful but…” you take a deep breath, “are you sure it’s okay for you to go out for coffee with a… a parent?”

“Of course it is,” he says almost immediately. “Don’t think of me as your child’s teacher I just… I would love to get to know you better,”

You can’t help but smile at his words. The idea sounds quite nice to you, not to mention how Rafe has caught your eye since you first ever saw him.

Since you ended your marriage, you were busy with raising Sage, leaving you no time to put yourself out there for dating whatsoever. You barely even had time to even make a simple conversation with someone, seeing how you were always busy with either taking care of Sage or your own job.

But this? It feels right.

“Then it’s okay,” you say. “I’ll love to have some coffee with you,”

You can see how Rafe’s eyes light up; metaphorically and literally as the sunlight strikes against them and they turn the sharp electric blue, but it’s only momentary. His lips pull into a grin and he nods at you. “Sounds wonderful,” he says softly.

You acknowledge him with a nod of your own head, and pass on a smile.

This is good. This feels good.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.

A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.

You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.

You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.

"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."

You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"

Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.

You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."

"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."

Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?

"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"

"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.

"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."

Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."

You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."

Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."

You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."

Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the  reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.

"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."

"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."

You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."

Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."

A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."

"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."

Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.

"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"

"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."

"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[dronebiscuitbat]

Give me a Reason: Chapter 17 - "Thad"

Computer Literacy was blessedly easy at least, she thought as she stumbled into the classroom, taking a steadying breath.

Her eyes almost automatically glanced up at N, who had nearly always given her a wave when he saw her enter, though today it looked like he was completely absorbed in conversation with someone else, a boy in a red backwards hat, brown peeking out from underneath it. Who was leaning on the back of her usual seat with his arms crossed.

She warily approached, was she going to have to find somewhere else to sit? There were a couple of others still free but, her and N were partners, how would they still work together?

She ignored the second train of thought, the one that was making her heart ache slightly at the prospect of having to go elsewhere, bring replaced by a more interesting friend so easily.

But, she didn't even have time to question it before N noticed her, and he gave her a radiant smile. “Hey Uzi! Sorry Thad, that's her seat your leaning on.”

The boy looked back at her, his eyes a dull green, like grass that had been shocked with weedkiller. A sports jacket clung to his shoulders, ‘Copper Football Team’ emblazoned on the front in yellow letters.

“Oh Hey, I'm Thad, sorry for taking your seat.” He moved off the back of her chair, dunking his hands in his pockets as he smiled, it was friendly, not as bright as N's but still warm and inviting.

“It's… fine.” She said awkwardly, in no real mood to socialize with the pain in her side.

“N said you two went ghost hunting last weekend. It's Gnarly, you two are braver then I am. I still get scared by the raccoon that lives under my house.”

Uzi blinked, taking a moment to register that she was being talked to, and a second more for her to realize it wasn't negative.

“Oh uh- Yeah, we did.” Uzi replied after a moment of struggling to bend down to put her backpack under the table, she didn't catch the way N looked at her worried lying when she flinched. “I wouldn't call N brave though, he got scared of an itty bitty spider, hehehe.”

“Hey!” N protested, pouting but not in a way that suggested he was actually upset.

“Aw she exposed you dude!” Thad laughed, but his attention was quickly back on her. “You're Uzi right? N mentioned your name, it's super badass. I wish I shared my name with a gun.”

Uzi felt herself blush, still not used to being complimented. And she couldn't really find the words to say to it either.

“I don't think Thad's a bad name.” N came to her rescue, thankfully. And Thad looked at him deadpan.

“When you find any character named “Thaddeus McFlynn” who isn't just in the background, or doesn't die a horrible death. Let me know.”

Uzi winced, man had a name like an old british man. She didn't envy him. N just shrugged.

“Anyway, I gotta get back to class, coach will chew my ass if I'm gone too long, I just came here to pick up his prints.” He picked up a stack of what looked like sign up papers, and turned back at N.

“Hey, I'm serious about signing up for one of our teams, you'd be great!” Thad gave him a finger gun and Uzi a small salute before he left the classroom, Uzi watching as he left.

N didn't really reply to that, just looked a little sad before shaking his head and returning all his attention to Uzi.

“Sorry about that. He was talking about me joining the basketball team since I'm so tall, then we somehow got onto what we did over the weekend and… yeah.” He rambled, but Uzi just nodded softly, it wasn't like she was expecting to remain N's only freind or anything, not with his personality. It's what she expected… honestly.

“It's fine.” How much had she said that today? It felt like a lot, her side throbbed uncomfortably as she tried to adjust.

“Hey uh. I know you told me to stop asking. And I promise I totally am, but… are you okay, you've looked uncomfortable all day.” He spoke up again after a second, and Uzi felt every single muscle in her body tense up, she was fine. She'd been through worse, way worse.

She turned to glare at him, words of vitriol bubbling up in her throat, but she only halfway opened her mouth before his soft, warm expression made them die into nothing, a gentle smile worn on his face and genuine concern behind those caramel eyes.

She sighed.

“I'm fine, really, just… had a run in with someone. I've been through worse.”

“Oh… well um…” N really didn't know how to help, that answer was… vague at best. But he didn't want to scare her off from opening up more by pushing her. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She looked at him for a beat, taking in his nervous smile.

“No.” She replied simply, and the window he'd had was abruptly shut in his face. His smile fell a little.

“You can keep distracting me though. That's helping.” She added after a minute, and his head snapped back up, she was avoiding his eyes, but he caught a small smile gracing her face.

And with another brilliant smile, thats what he did, dragging her into a conversation about dogs that she did her best to listen intently to, the pain being slightly buried under the weight of his voice.

When it was finally time to go home, Uzi was bracing herself on one of the brick pillars in front of the building, knowing all she needed was to walk home and she could treat herself with some sweet, sweet painkillers. It was just… actually getting there that was going to be the difficult part.

It wasn't that far away, but with how difficult walking had become, she knew it was going to be complete and total agnoy. Stalling, she was stalling.

What were the chances of her dad actually being home for once to drive her back? Probably slim to none, but… she could check.

She pulled out her phone, Khan being the first name in her contacts, the second, and last, being N.

Uzi: Hey Dad, just wondering if u could pick me up from school today.

She stared at the messaging app for almost a full minute with no response before she grumbled, leaning against the brick and closing her eyes for a moment.

When she did eventually bring her head back up, she realized that she'd been standing against the pillar for way too long, the second wave of busses already on their way out, meaning she'd been there for at least ten minutes.

Maybe she was in more pain than she thought…

“Uzi?” A voice caught her attention, and she spun around to be face to face with N's stupidly tall figure, Thad was right… he would be good for basketball.

She was starting to feel warm, and slightly nauseous, neither were any good signs, bit both she ignored.

“O-oh hey N.” Shit, her voice was a little shaky now too, she placed a palm onto the brick behind her, feeling a bit like she might pass out. Crap, that probably meant Lizzy pinched something in her somewhere, that was great.

“I thought you would've left already. Don't you walk home?” One of his brows were raised, he looked behind her, Tessa had pulled in and was waiting for him.

“Just… enjoying the day…?”

“Why did that sound like a question?” He asked, clearly not believing her in the slightest. Uzi blinked, trying to stifle the painful tremble in her voice.

“It didn't.” She tried, trying to begin to walk away, only to stumble and nearly trip over nothing.

Fuck

“Woah hey! Uzi!” His hands were on her now, she didn't want them to be, she didn't want to be seen as weak, but her stupid body had at this point completely betrayed her, she felt the bile begin to burn it's way into her throat.

Oh shit not he-

She scrambled over to the nearest bush, throwing his hands off her and completely emptied her bruised stomach, holding onto one of those weird round concrete nubs for support.

When she finished, she shakily stood up, wiping her mouth, a small amount of blood coming off onto the back of her hand.

Still… she did feel marginally better.

N was behind her, looking between Tessa's car and her franticly, a hand gently resting on her back. She tried to catch her breath.

She heard a car door slam and rushing footsteps coming her direction before light invaded her vision

I'm about to pass out…

She thought before she felt herself begin to slowly fall backwards, before all her senses went to static…

Next ->

[sunny44]

Business party

Pairing: Max Verstappen x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: couple fight.

Summary: The night of the company party has finally arrived and Y/n was super excited to introduce her boyfriend Max to her work friends but unfortunately the night doesn't end as she would have liked.

Next Chapter

It was the day of the party for the company you worked for, you were super excited to attend since you would formally introduce your boyfriend Mason to your friends but at the last minute, Mason decided that he is no longer going.

Finally the day had come.

I was super excited for this party and even more excited to officially introduce Mason to my friends from work.

He was away training but would arrive on time to get ready, meanwhile I was getting ready for the party.

After showering and washing my hair I dried it and did some curls and as I was finishing my makeup I heard the noise from downstairs.

I finished with my lipstick and went downstairs wrapped in my robe to find my boyfriend in the kitchen.

"Hi love." I smiled and gave him a kiss. "How was the simulator?"

"It was good, tiring but good."

"Are you going to shower now so we won't be late."

"Late for what?"

"For the party."

"Oh I'm not going to the party." Just as he says this I feel the sadness hit me.

"What do you mean you're not going? I warned you months ago and you promised you would go with me."

"I know but I changed my mind, I don't want to go anymore. I'm tired."

"But Max you promised and..."

"I'm not going, can you just leave me alone? I'm tired from the day and I don't feel like going to this stupid party." He says rudely, and I shut up.

"You always do this, when it's something important to you I have to support you and go to those stupid Redbull events, but when it's something important to me you let me down like I don't matter to you. I always prioritize you and support you in everything so why don't you do the same thing for me?"

"I never made you go."

"I go to support you, and as my boyfriend I expected you to do the same thing for me."

"I already said I'm not going."

"Then I'll go without you."

I went back to our room and put on my skirt and blouse, the one that I had bought just to match his tie. I grabbed a jacket and my purse, went downstairs and got the car key from the door.

"You don't have to wait for me, I'm not coming home."

I slammed the door behind me and headed for the party.

I had to hold back tears many times tonight just because all my friends were asking about Max and I had to lie saying that he couldn't come, I didn't have the heart to say that he let me down because he was tired.

"So where is the much talked boyfriend."

Stacy, for sure one of the people I wasn't the least bit interested in introducing Max to, she hates me for some reason unknown to me, it's always been that way since I joined the company.

"He couldn’t make it, he got tired of the simulator."

"Oh yeah, he's an F1 driver." She says wryly. "What's his name again? If he even exists."

"It's Max and I don't have to prove anything to you, if you'll excuse me."

I left there and went to the bar, I honestly had lost all excitement about the party, the reason I wanted to be there was an idiot with me. And once again that night I felt like crying.

“Are you ok?" My friend Kylie asks.

"Yeah, just bummed Max couldn't make it."

"I'm sorry, I know you really wanted to introduce him to us."

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter anymore." She smiled sadly and I took the last sip of my drink.

"Are you okay to drive later?" She says pointing to my drink.

"Yeah, not only is this night sucking, but I'm still drinking a non-alcoholic drink.” She laughs. "Actually, I’m going home.”

"Are you sure? We can still dance and have fun."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up but I'm really not in the mood."

"All right, see you Monday."

"See you."

I didn't want to go home, I was mad at him and also because I said I wouldn't come back but my sister was traveling so I couldn't go to her apartment. When I arrived I left my heels on the door and locked up, went upstairs to our room and when I opened the door Max was lying down watching TV.

"Guess you weren’t so tired after all."

"Can we talk?"

"No, I’m too tired to talk." I said walking into the bathroom and locking the door.

I took off my dress and put on my pajamas, took off all my makeup and when I was done I left the bathroom taking my cell phone and walking to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sleeping here."

"Baby I'm sorry I..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses Mex, when I wanted you to listen to me you didn't, so I'm not going to stay here and listen to your stupid excuses after you ruined my night." He doesn’t say nothing. "I honestly still don't know why I’m still trying."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't stand feeling like I'm the only one who values this relationship anymore. I'm tired of F1 always coming ahead of me in this relationship.”

"That's not true." He stands up.

"Then why didn't you go today? Oh yes because you were tired of driving an imaginary car in that stupid simulator." He still in silent. "I work just as hard as you do Max, but I've never let my work get in the way of our relationship. But I don't think you care about me as much as I care about you. So maybe we shouldn't be together.”

I wiped the tear that ran down my cheek and left the room, slamming the door and going to sleep from the guest room.

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername stories

“It suck’s that my night was ruined.”

This will have a part 2 so let me know if you want to be tagged

[im-sleepdeprived]

Seasonal • Pt. 4

pairing: peter parker x reader

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

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

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

masterlist, read part 1, part 2, part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t transfer back here for you. 

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

Or a con. 

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

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

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

Because there’s a man beside you. 

He’s holding your waist. 

And you’re not pushing him away. 

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

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Old nickname.”

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

Babe? Was this guy for real?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanna talk about that?”

You scoffed. “Not really, no.”

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

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

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

“Where’d he go before?”

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

“He went to Duke.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you expecting?” May asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He spoke to soon.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, we’ve met. Patrick, right?”

Peter definitely didn’t like this guy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was going to be interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, “Go. We’ll talk later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Ace! Wait up.”

Clearly, you wouldn’t be so lucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it is. You know about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

“Damn, you sure?”

You hummed in response.

“Kay, bye.”

“Bye.”

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

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

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

Peter paused, a look of hurt flashing across his features, as if that were something he hadn’t even considered. A small part of you relished in it, in him knowing things had changed since the last time you’d seen each other, and he couldn’t just ignore that. No amount of pretending would fill in that gap. 

“Goodbye Peter.” You didn’t want to talk about James with him anymore than you already had. 

“The invitation still stands,” he blurted. You gave him a weird look. “To dinner,” he explained, “the invitation still stands. I meant what I said, May would love to have you over, and so would I. So if you’ve ever got the time…” he trailed off.

You couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your face. Only Peter could switch your moods so fast, and you had no doubt he meant it about the dinner, just like you had no doubt he would also completely understand if you ignored his offer altogether. 

“Thank you Petey, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thank you Petey,” 

God he’d bet you didn’t realize it, that the nickname had just rolled off your tongue. You probably hadn’t thought twice about, he, however, certainly had. In fact, the moment hadn’t left his mind. You’d given him a smile so sincere, he would’ve given you anything you asked for just to keep you looking at him like that. And paired with the nickname? He was done for. 

He had sat outside the English building in hopes of finally getting to see you again. He was starting to believe he must be a masochist, because every time he saw you it felt like a punch to the gut. Was it possible for someone to get more beautiful by the second? But he couldn’t help it, he was drawn to you, always had been and always will be. 

The worst of it was when you were with James. God, just thinking the name made his entire mood sour. But seeing the only girl he’d ever loved with someone else made him want to punch something (someone; and that someone was James). And hearing that phone call you’d had with him only further pissed him off. How the hell could he even think to ask you to go barhopping, if he knew you at all he would know that you would much rather prefer a quiet night at home. And it seemed that was exactly what you had planned, before that douchebag cancelled to go out with his friend. 

He had been out patrolling most of the evening and well into the night. Now he was on his way home, it had been a quiet night so he thought he might as well retire early. He could always come back out if need be. That was one of the greater things about college, more freedom, a more flexible schedule, unlike high school. 

Just as he was swinging his way back home, he caught sight of a familiar figure lounging on a fire escape. You were home. Peter hadn’t really spoken to you since he’d caught you walking of class. You’d see each other around, but there was nothing more than brief moments of eye contact. 

You looked peaceful, reading silently as a soft light filtered through your window. He was going to change that. 

He landed softly a couple stories above you. Flipping over, he shot out a web and caught himself so he was hanging upside down. Slowly, he lowered himself until he his head was almost brushing the floor of your fire escape. “How’s it hanging?”

You shrieked, dropping your book in fright. Now, Peter would never want to actually scare you, but he couldn’t help messing around every now and then. 

“What the fuck Peter,” you hissed, one hand resting on your heart as you breathed heavily. Peter righted himself and landed completely in one smooth motion.

He swiped off his mask and grinned. “I thought it was funny.”

You whacked him with your book. 

Peter threw his arms up and cowered slightly, “Mercy! Mercy!”

“Shut up!” You laughed softly, “Someone might hear you.”

He put arms down and fixed you with a serious expression, “Did you or did you not just scream a couple of seconds ago?”

You whacked him with your book again.

Peter was cackling like a madman at this point and it didn’t take long before you were joining him. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, laughing together on your fire escape, a place ripe with memories of your life together before. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked once you’d calmed down and caught your breath again. 

“I was swinging back home when I saw you out here reading. Thought I’d stop by and say hey.”

“Or give me a heart attack,” you murmured. 

He laughed again, “Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not,” you rolled your eyes but your smile escaped. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, grinning. This was nice, so nice. 

You fell into a soft silence, neither of you wanting to break the comfortable atmosphere you’d created. You decided to speak up, but so did he. 

“I wanted to—”

“Ace I—”

You looked at him and held back a laugh. He shook his head softly and smiled. Settling down across from you, Peter stretched his legs out (longer than they were before, and taking up more space, he almost didn’t fit), and he pointed towards you, “You first.”

“Fine. I wanted to say sorry for snapping at you so much since you’ve been back. Its just been…” you fidgeted with your hands and bit your lip, “weird.”

His heart fell a little bit, why in the world would you be apologizing? “Ace, you don’t need to apologize for a thing, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry Ace, I know its weird, I know you had no warning when I just popped back into your life, and I know it’s weird.” He nudged your leg with his and smiled, “Hell I’m lucky your even talking to me right now.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Well it’s not like you gave me much of a choice, you cornered me on my own fire escape!”

He laughed. “True, I guess.” Peter added a dramatic sigh before his next sentence, hoping to hide how nervous he actually felt, “I could always go if you want me to.”

“No,” you said softly, “I don’t mind.”

Peter felt like doing a happy dance.

“What’re you doing home?” He asked. He knew you had your own apartment near campus (with Alyssa, he’d learned. He quickly, learned how close you two were, he was glad you had a friend like that.) and he  couldn’t think of a specific reason you’d be home. 

“My mom bought some new furniture and she asked me to come help her put it together. I figured I’d just spend the night.”

“Oh? I thought she was banned from shopping?”

“She was! Until she wasn’t.” You laughed out loud, making Peter laugh as well. 

The night went on like that, you and Peter sharing simple conversation. You avoided touching on the touchier subjects for now. You weren’t exactly ignoring them, both of you knew they were there, sitting beside you as you conversed, waiting to be picked apart and discussed at length. It just seemed that the two of you had silently reached an agreement, that for now, you’d enjoy whatever peace you’d found. Because at the end of the day, first and foremost, you two had been friends. The bigger things could come later. 

It had been a week since that night on your fire escape wand you were actually starting to think you could handle Peter being back. Seeing him around had been brief lately, you suspected he was finally getting settled in his classes and his life here, but when you did see him it was easier. Less tension-filled. Unless James was around, that made it harder. 

You were laying on the couch in your living room, Lyss laying opposite you, both your legs meeting in the middle. The two of you were watching Pride & Prejudice (the 2005 one, of course, because no one really cared about the 1995 series) while a bowl of popcorn lay half-eaten on the coffee table in front of you. 

You reached out and grabbed a handful of popcorn, “Kiera Knightley is so fine.”

“Tell me about it, oh my god,” Lyss exclaimed, dramatically fanning herself. “I watched ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ when I was younger, I’ve never been the same since.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Peter and I watched them all together during one of our summer breaks, and that scene with her and Orlando Bloom had me practically drooling.” You giggled. 

“Speaking of Peter,” the way she said it had you thinking she’d been dying to bring this subject up, “how’s that going?”

“Um…good. Well, better, I guess is the right word. Things are going better than the first few times I saw him around but of course there’s still that weirdness.”

“God, I still cant get over how crazy it is that he just randomly pops up here, outta nowhere!” You’d always talked about Peter with Lyss, you’d told her your history with him long before he’d shown up, but now she could finally put a face to the name. 

“You’re telling me,” you snorted. “I saw him when I went back home last week,” you shook your head, “we talked on my fire escape like we used to. It was almost unreal.”

“Weren’t you guys no contact since winter break of freshman year?” She asked. 

You hummed in confirmation and she whistled. “So he hasn’t given you some grand love proposal, has he?”

You choked on a laugh, “No. Of course not.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged casually, “you don’t transfer to the school you know your ex-girlfriend attends, join the paper you know she’s on, and hang out on her fire escape where you hung out when you were together unless you still have feelings.”

Frowning, you popped some more popcorn your mouth. You didn’t want to believe Peter still had feelings for you, it would make everything so much harder.of course, there was something there, and if you were being honest, there probably always would be. You were each other’s first loves and that didn’t just disappear into thin air. 

But Peter had left you, and you had a boyfriend now. Everything else was irrelevant.

Lyss leaned over and poked your cheek, “Don’t pout, I was only kidding. Sorta.”

“I know,” you said, shooting her a smile. 

“Stop thinking about him and start think about the killer article you’re going to write me about tomorrow.” She shot you a wink. 

Right. The competition was tomorrow. And you were going with James. 

“OH! Hand clench scene!” Lyss jumped up, tearing you away from your thoughts. 

Peter had left you, and you had a boyfriend now. Everything else was irrelevant.

Tomorrow should make a great distraction.

The venue was beautiful. You made your way around, stopping to appreciate every photograph, taking in all the details of the art hanging on every inch of the walls. You loved it. 

You looked up at James and grinned, “Do you get it now?”

He smiled and shook his head, “To be honest with you, nah.” He smirked at you, “But I’m here with the prettiest girl in the whole school, so what does it matter?”

You flushed and looked down at the empty notepad in your hands, by the end of the night it was probably going to be full. You were going to walk around taking notes of all the unique pieces, but the biggest part of your job today would be later, when they announce the winners. There were three runner ups and then, of course, the first place winner. You’d be speaking to all of them tonight, longer with the winner. 

Just as you’d told James, this thing had a dress code. He had gone for a navy jacket with a white button down underneath, and a pair of white slacks. You were wearing a pretty black dress that fell to just below your knees; it had a soft tulle layer that swished as you walked and floral embroidery that ran along the whole thing, the green of the vines and soft pink of the flowers popping out with the darker undertone. You felt good about tonight, really good. Alyssa had chosen to give you this big piece of news and you weren’t going to let her down. 

You walked around the venue hand-in-hand with James, getting familiar with the art and the artists, stopping by to compliment a few that really popped out to you. Your favorite so far was a stunning picture taken by a girl named Macy, she’d captured of Bow Bridge at Central Park. She’d used some kind of vintage camera giving the photo an ethereal, elegant, romantic feel to it, with the flowers on the bushes, the green of the scenery, and the golden glow on the bridge and the people walking upon it and boating on the waters beneath it, if it was up to you this would definitely be picked as first place. 

You’d tried to get James to see the same beauty you saw in the picture, the almost fantastical vibe of it, looking more like a painting than reality, but he hadn’t understood, claiming it was ‘just a picture of the park’ leaving you more than a little disappointed. Maybe some people really just didn’t understand art. 

“Think we’ve seen almost everything,” you murmured to James as you looked around to see if there was a place you hadn’t been yet. 

“Actually, there’s a few on the other side of that wall we haven’t seen yet,” he pointed, “been seeing lots of people come in and out of there. I think one of the winners might be there.”

“Oh my gosh I completely missed that part, thanks!” You leaned up and pecked his cheek, making him grin. “Anytime babe.”

That would be your last happy moment of the night. 

You walked through the photos slowly and marveled at how, when it came to art, everyone truly had their own style. Each piece had a tag beside it, conveying the name of the work and the name of the photographer. Though most of the presenters liked to hover near their piece in case anyone had questions or wanted to know more, it was easier this way for the judges to get the information they needed. 

You were talking to someone about their picture when James nudged you. “Is that Peter?”

He pointed to your left, and you saw the side-profile of Peter talking to someone with his arms crossed. Peter was here? Well, it did make sense, he was a photographer after all. This was more than his scene. 

“He’s probably here to get pictures for the paper,” you shrugged. 

James held your hand a little tighter as the two of you walked through some more photos. “Alright, this is getting boring,” James sighed heavily. 

“Really?” you frowned, “I really like it. I think its fun.”

He eyed you, “You already got the article babe, you don’t have to put on an act anymore.”

You laughed lightly, but you weren’t really finding this funny, “I’m not acting! Did you see ‘love in the air’? I don’t think I’ve ever seen something more beautiful.” That was the name of the piece you’d loved, and you had to say, it was accurate. It was like looking through rose-tinted-glasses, finding the lovely in everything. 

“The one of the park?” James rolled his eyes, “it’s Central Park, there’s nothing special about it.” You were opening your mouth to argue when he cut you off, “They’re just photos, babe. Now, when are they gonna announce the winners so we can get outta here?”

You frowned and looked down at your watch. There was only about half an hour until winners were announced. You were going to write down something in your notepad when you heard James mutter a curse under his breath and come to a stop beside you, his hand going limp in yours. 

“What? What is it—” you looked up to see what had gotten him and you really wished you hadn’t. In front of you hung a piece you hadn’t seen before, this particular photograph, or photographs as it was more of a collage, had something none of the other ones didn’t…you. 

“Who…?” But it was no use because you knew who, and so did James. 

Neither of you needed to look at the tag to know who the contestant was, but you did anyway. 

‘Seasonal’

By: Peter Parker

It was a bright, colorful, collage conveying the changes of the seasons. One corner had bounds of snowflakes and different clips of snowy fields and icicles, stretching out to merge with the corner opposite of it, summer. Bright blue waves, soft tufts of sand. Both corner melted down the sides of the poster board to create spring, which was full of beautiful, soft colored flowers, sprouting up as if just given life. The project was beautiful, you had to admit. You’d known Peter had a knack for photography but all these photos, the dedication to this project, was extremely admirable. There had to be hundreds of photos, cut up, some bigger than others, and perfectly arranged with each other to create this harmonic view of nature, all taken by him,  

But the problem was the center. Autumn. Which was you. It took up the middle body of the collage, it was dead center. Unlike the other seasons, this one didn’t have multiple photos bringing it together, it was the key piece, all the others worked to make this one shine. 

That picture Peter had taken of you in Central Park, the one where he’d gotten you to lay on a pile of leaves, made you laugh so he could capture the perfect shot. You’d forgotten about it, honestly, you weren’t even sure if you’d seen it after it was taken. But now, here it was, over two years later, submitted in a fucking photography competition. 

“What do you think?” You weren’t sure how long you were there, staring at that photo of yourself, it could’ve been hours, days even, before that heart-wrenchingly familiar voice.

You turned around quickly, coming face to face with Peter, who was looking at you with a heavy expression. You had seen him earlier when James pointed him out, but it was from across a crowded room and you’d only seen his side. He towered over you now, in a black button down, with black slacks and a black belt. You knew you shouldn’t even be thinking it, but he looked good. His shirt fit him perfectly, hugging him in all the right places, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his thick forearms. It wasn’t until he crossed them over his chest and looked at you expectantly that you realized you were staring and he was waiting on an answer. 

Before you could give it to him, James spoke up, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” His voice was low and angrier than you’d ever heard it, causing alarm bells to go off in your head. Peter didn’t bother even acknowledging him, his eyes were solely on you, and that seemed to piss him off even more. 

“You think this shit’s funny?” James growled. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Peter rolled his eyes.

You stood shell-shocked in your place, unsure of what to do. “That’s it,” James said, “I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” He stepped forward suddenly, making you jump into action. 

“Stop it,” you hissed, but he wasn’t listening, walking from your side right up to Peter. 

His previous remarks had gained the attention from the small groups of people who were close enough to hear them. 

“Take it down,” he said as he got up in Peter’s face. Peter, to his credit, didn’t budge an inch. In fact, he was looking at James as if he were nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing past. James stood at least a couple inches taller than Peter, and yet he wasn’t the most intimidating one here, not by a mile. 

“No, but I’d be happy to take you down,” with a damn smile on his face. You wanted to slap them both. 

“You little—”

“Enough!” You stepped in, throwing your arm between them and holding it against James’ chest. You weren’t going to sit there and let them throw hands at an event like this, especially not over you. 

Peter sucked in a breath, eyeing the arm you had strapped across James’ front in a feeble attempt to hold him back. Something unreadable shone in his eyes, and his jaw ticked as he met your glare.

“You are not doing this here,” you said in a hard voice, refusing to look at Peter anymore and instead staring up at James. His face was stone and his eyes were set on Peter, whose eyes were set on you. 

It was like some crazy triangle or something. 

A part of you wondered what a photo of this particular moment would look like. You imagined it would be named something like ‘Lovers Quarrel’. Finally, after what felt like forever, James’ gaze finally slid down toward you. He worked his jaw for a moment before stepping back. “I need to get some air,” he mumbled. Without bothering another glance at either of you, he turned and headed for the exit.

You stood in place, eyes stuck on his retreating figure, when you heard Peter scoff. “Can you believe that guy?”

Rage flew through your blood. “Excuse me?”

“Oh come on Ace,” but his voice didn’t sound as sure as before and you could’ve laughed at the thought of him thinking you’d agree with him, “you know I didn’t start that.”

It was your turn to scoff, “Maybe not, but you didn’t hesitate to tell him how you’d take him down.”

“Well what was I supposed to do?” He asked weakly. All that confidence and haughtiness from earlier was gone, standing before you was just Peter. But you were starting to think you didn’t know Peter anymore. What you’d said to him before, about him not knowing you anymore, you’d said mostly to hurt him. But now…you wondered if there were more truth to your words than you realized. 

Sometimes there were moments like that night on your fire escape and it was like things had never changed, he’d never moved hundreds of miles away and the two of you were back just hanging out, the oldest of friends. Two people who knew each other better than anyone else ever would. 

And then there were moments like tonight.

You eyed him curiously, disappointment all over your features. You knew he hadn’t liked James but for him to genuinely partake in a fight…

“I don’t know Peter. I don’t know you anymore.” And you turned to walk in the same direction you’d seen James headed to before, but not before you glimpsed the hurt on Peter’s face. 

Stepping out the doors, you were hit with a warm breeze and the sound of New York traffic. Shuddering at the sudden change of temperature (the venue had the AC on blast, stepping outside felt like a warm hug) you looked around for James. You caught him leaning against the side of the building with a hand running through his hair. 

“Hey,” you said softly, approaching on light feet as you moved to the same wall, leaning right across from him. 

“Hey,” he deadpanned, not meeting your eyes. 

Your heart swelled with guilt. You didn’t know why; you knew you shouldn’t feel guilty, you didn’t do anything wrong and you had no clue Peter was going to do that, or be here at all. But he just looked so angry right now and you couldn’t help feeling like it was sort of your fault. 

“I’m sorry.” You wanted something, anything. Anything other than that cold look in his eyes. You wanted him to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that he wasn’t angry, not at you, just at the situation. 

He didn’t do any of that. 

After a few seconds and still no answer you raised a hand to brush away the pieces of hair that had fallen into his face in a way you thought would comfort him, but that only had him swerving to avoid your touch as if your hand were made of fire. 

You retracted it, your heart swelling with hurt. Ouch. Okay, so maybe he was mad at you. “James…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure what to say, you were afraid the slightest thing would set him off even more. 

He shook his head, jaw so clenched you were afraid it would snap. “No,” he ran a hand over his face, “Nah, I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You asked exasperated, “I don’t understand, what’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?” He sneered with venom in his voice, and you regretted saying anything at all. “The big deal is—” he cut himself off with a harsh laugh, “Honestly Y/N, if you don’t see it you’re even more blind than I thought.”

Just then, a noise sounded from inside the venue. Microphone feedback. The awards were about to be handed out. You could hear one of the judges introducing himself. You stared at James wordlessly. You didn’t want to go inside and leave things like this but you also didn’t see how you could say or do anything that would fix it. 

“James, I swear I had no idea about that,” you cleared your throat, willing your voice not to break, “I didn’t even know he’d be here.”

He wouldn’t even look at you, nodding and staring out onto the street, and that felt like an even bigger hurt. Why wouldn’t he just listen? As if he’d willed it with his eyes, a car pulled up to the curb right in front of you, tearing your gaze away from him for a moment. James walked away from you, hand settling on the handle of the backseat door and realization hit you hard, cold, and fast.

He hadn’t been waiting for you to follow him, to talk things out and make things right again. He’d just been waiting for his ride. 

Without even bothering another look your way, “Good luck with your fucking article.”

I don’t know you anymore.

I don’t know you anymore. 

I don’t know you anymore. 

It was the only thing that had been running through his brain since the last syllable had rolled off of your tongue.

How could you say that? How could you even think it? Did you seriously believe that? Did you truly think that he was so different from the boy you once loved, the boy you’d dreamed of a future with, a shared future?

His head was buzzing with thoughts about you and what you’d said when he felt hands on his shoulders pushing him. Looking around, he realized everyone was staring at him. The hands on his shoulders were pushing him forward. 

“Go, Peter,” someone beside him whispered, one of the other photographers from the paper, Ryan, who’d been standing beside him in the crowd, he realized, “you won!”

Right. He’d been so focused on you that he’d completely forgotten where he was for a moment. Shortly after you’d walked away from him, the award ceremony had begun. He didn’t even remember walking over here, or the introductions, or any other people being awarded

He wordlessly made his way onto the stage, vaguely recalled shaking someone’s hand, being handed something, a ribbon maybe? He didn’t know, he didn’t know anything except he was on stage, everyone was clapping for him, and he was looking for you. 

The closest thing he could find was the photograph of you, also on the stage, sitting in the first place slot beside him. This was wrong, it was all wrong, and it was his fault. You were so excited for this article, you’d told him as much and he could see it, and he’d never wanted to ruin it for you.

To his side stood a petite blond girl, looking to be around his age, hovering close to another photograph. It was a lovely, romantic photo of Central Park. He recalled seeing it earlier as he was roaming around the venue checking out the other pieces. It had caught his attention because it reminded him of you. 

It made his heart deflate even more. 

More chatter ensued, followed by more applause and Peter tried his best not to look so uncomfortable (May had repeatedly informed him he always looked like he was about to be sick when he was too stressed, and he didn’t want anyone thinking he was about to vomit all over his newly awarded first-prize-winning piece and all the other winners). 

At this point, he couldn’t wait for his cue to get off this godforsaken stage so he could find you and apologize. It was the least he could do but hopefully it would make things at least a little better. 

“What do you say Mr. Parker?”

He whipped his head toward the speaker. Todd Kravinski, the man running this whole thing, the same one who’d called him up here earlier and handed him the ribbon (and a check, apparently, but Peter hadn’t realized that until after) had asked him something and he’d completely missed it. 

“I—I’m sorry sir, what was that?”

Mr. Kravinski chuckled, and Peter let out a forced laugh. “C’mere kid, they’re gonna wanna get your picture, and maybe a little statement for the paper.” His stomach lurched at that last part. You were going to be taking his statement for the paper. You were going to be the one who described his piece and take the pictures he taken and turn them into words. Selfishly, he couldn’t wait to hear what you thought.

Peter walked instructed to stand near his piece, hold up his ribbon and check, and smile. He was paraded around, forced into handshakes, shoving out smiles until the corners of his mouth and his cheeks ached, and patted on the back more times than he could count. And yet all he could think about was you. 

It wasn’t until the parading around was coming to an end that he looked up from some stranger congratulating him and caught your eye, standing a few steps back, talking to Lewis, he was third runner-up and they’d been standing beside each other earlier on the stage. Peter swore his whole body froze when he saw you, every time he caught your eye it felt like the two of you were sharing a whole conversation no one else was privy to, even now after being gone for almost 2 whole years, he could feel that familiar warmth, the sensual tug of that bond the two of you would only ever share with each other. And it was so familiar, so soft, so wholly you and him, he could’ve cried. 

But then you looked away. And he could’ve cried for completely different reasons. 

He made quick work of excusing himself from his current conversation and walked over to where you were chatting up Lewis, writing down things in a small notepad. He found you so incredibly adorable standing there, biting your lip in concentration as you scribbled down something she’d just told you, careful not to miss any details.

“Hey Lewis,” he approached the two of you, your head shooting up at the familiar voice, “Congrats on runner-up, your piece was amazing.” 

They shook hands with each other, “You too man, congrats. That was one hell of a collage.”

“Thanks, hey do you mind if I steal Y/N away for a bit? I’ve been meaning to speak with her.”

“Not at all, I think we’re pretty much done here.” Lewis looked at you to confirm you’d gotten all you need. Peter could tell you very much wanted to protest and he caught your subtle glance down at your notepad. It didn’t take a genius to know you were pondering what other questions you might’ve missed that could keep you from being alone with Peter, but it seemed you couldn’t find anything because you ended up giving Lewis a tight-lipped smile. 

“Thanks for talking with me. I loved your photo, and congratulations again.”

“Thank you. can’t wait to read it,” Lewis replied, walking off with a wink in your direction. 

You immediately looked down, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes after Lewis turned his back, instead taking a enormous interest in your shoes. 

Peter cleared his throat, “Ace, can we talk?”

“Talk about what?” You finally looked up. Peter was fluent in all things Y/N, yet he knew that he didn’t need to be to see the unhappiness etched on your features. Your countenance was all hard lines and and furrowed brows and—were your eyes red? Had you been crying? 

“Seriously Peter, what do you wanna talk about? The part where you entered into a competition you knew damn well I’d be covering, the part where you entered and won using a picture of me without telling me, the part where you tried to pick a fight with my boyfriend about it, or the part where you tried to get me to side with you?”

“Ace, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go down the way they did,” he tried helplessly. He didn’t want to argue with you, mostly because he’d never cared for it, even when you were together, but also because he didn’t want to feel any worse. 

You sniffled and it felt like a kick to the gut. His thought from earlier resurfaced, and this time it was because he was completely fluent in you that he knew you hadn’t cried yet. Between whatever had happened when you’d left to find James and now, you’d gotten upset but you hadn’t cried and it was breaking him to see you trying so hard to keep that composure. 

“Well they did,” you replied quietly, avoiding his gaze once more as you crossed your arms and looked to the side. 

All Peter really wanted to do was pry your arms open, break the protective stance you’d taken up, and pull you into a bone-crushing hug that was much need by the both of you if you asked him. But he couldn’t do that. “I’m so sorry Ace. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You’ve done enough.” He wasn’t really expecting you to accept his offer, but the rejection still hurt. 

“Well, what about with the article? How can I help with that?” He hadn’t let himself think it but he was excited about the extra time with you that came with first place. Maybe there was a silver lining in all this.

“Thanks but no.” Maybe not. “Actually, I—I should go.”

He wanted to speak up. He wanted to protest. He wanted you. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t have any of the things he wanted and the same thought kept floating through his head:

It’s all my fault.

The leaves rustled around you as you walked, the breeze carried with it a certain smell you could only find on the streets of New York during this time of year. You were on the brink of summer, the nature around you was peaking. The flowers were fully bloomed, the grass a delicious shade of green, birds chirped merrily, and you felt like shit.

You and James hadn’t talked since he’d left last night after the whole thing with Peter. You’d sent texts, called multiple times, left voicemails most of those times, you weren’t quite sure what else there was to do. You should probably go to his place. Maybe you should’ve even gone last night, but…you weren’t up for it yet. Not then and not now.

And then there was Peter.

Stupid, annoying, confusing, infuriating, Peter Parker. 

Leaving last night was a stupid idea. You were already there, you should’ve asked him a few quick questions and got it over with. Now you’d have to make time to see him, and you weren’t sure how that would go over with James, article or not.

It had felt like your heart had short-circuited when you’d seen that photo on the wall. How long had he planned that? Obviously he was aware you were going to see it…what had he thought your reaction would be? What had he thought James’ reaction would be? He probably hadn’t thought of James at all, if you were being honest with yourself.

It still felt crazy to think he was back in the city. You’d seen the news reports of Spider-Man once again in New York. The first one had popped up the same day you’d ran into him. You caught yourself thinking about him often as you walked around campus, knowing he was there somewhere as well, walking those same grounds (or swinging maybe). It was weird. It was weird working with him on the paper and yet…there was something when you were with Peter, something you hadn’t felt in almost 2 years. Something a part of you knew, deep down, that you would never feel with anyone else.

“Funny seeing you here.” You’d know that voice absolutely anywhere. It was how you’d first discovered him as Spider-Man, after all.

You turned, coming face-to-face with Peter. He was in a dark grey t-shirt that fit him like a glove, dark washed jeans, and a beat up pair of converse he’d had since you’d known him. He looked every bit the boy you once knew, only less boy and more man now. That was another change you hadn’t gotten used to. 

“Is it?” You asked, because something in his tone told you he’d expected to find you here.

“No,” he shook his head, “I remembered you always came for walks here when you were having a rough time and after everything that happened last night…lucky guess.”

Stupid, annoying, confusing, infuriating, Peter Parker.

Of course, he knew where to find you. “You always were a genius.” You said as you continued to walk slowly, Peter picking up pace to stride beside you. 

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, to figure you out. I know you Ace, no matter what, I’ll always know you.”

James doesn’t know you, he never would’ve known where to find you and you weren’t even sure he’d bother looking—

No, you had to stop that. Comparing the two of them wasn’t going to get you anywhere except all stuck in your head. Peter wasn’t yours, not anymore, no matter how well he knew you. He’d made sure of that. 

“Well did you want something?” You weren’t exactly being pleasant, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. You couldn’t believe you’d apologized to him for being ‘snappy’ because right now all you could think was how much he deserved it. 

He stopped his walking and grabbed your elbow, stopping you as well, “I know I was a dick last night, hell, I know I’ve been a dick to you far before last night, but I wanna make it up to you if you’ll let me. I care about you Ace. I always will.”

You didn’t care about me when you ghosted me, you didn’t care about me when you stood me up on winter break, you didn’t care about me when you left me and moved all the way to North Carolina—

That wasn’t going to do anything but make you miserable, and even more snappy. You sucked in a deep breath. He was here. Might as well get what you needed from him, right?

“I’m gonna need to ask you a few questions, y’know, just basic stuff. For the article.”

Peter grinned as if that was exactly what he was hoping you’d say. “Yeah, yeah sure. Of course, anything.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. He was so ready and willing to give you everything you asked for, you were sure if you demanded he hand you his wallet, he wouldn’t object. 

You pulled out your notepad and pen from your tote bag, extremely grateful you always kept them on hand. Flipping open to a new page, you clicked your pen, flipped your hair over your shoulder, and cleared your throat, “Social security number, date of birth, and the last thing you ate in full detail?”

Peter choked out a laugh, “Um, okay. I don’t have it memorized, August 10th 2001, and a medium toasted bagel with extra cream cheese, no seasoning.”

“No seasoning?” You asked, scrunching up your nose in disgust. “What, so you just like plain, boring bagels like an old man?”

“Hey,” he jumped to his own defense, “no hating on plain bagels! They’re like the vanilla ice cream of the bagel world, classic. You can never go wrong with a plain bagel. It can never be too much, it can never be too little. It’s just right.”

You snorted, “Alright, keep it in your pants Parker, I think I’ve heard enough. Plain bagels rock.”

“Damn right they do,” he deadpanned. 

Chuckling, you remembered something. “Oh my god, are you talking about the bagels from the little cafe next to the library?”

“Yeah! You know it?”

“Know it? Oh my god I practically moved in there during finals week. Have you tried their muffins? You would love them. I know you always hated when muffins are baked too dry because—”

“It’s like eating sand.” You both said in unison. You stared up at him, but he was already looking at you. He had this look in his eyes that was so wholly Peter, you almost couldn’t stand it. It took everything in you but you broke eye contact, clearing your throat before you continued speaking, “So um—tell about your photograph. What was the inspiration behind it? Why did you choose that piece?”

“Photography is often about telling a story, or at least part of it, and this piece…it means a lot to me.” You held your breath as he spoke. “I love the feeling of the picture, or rather, pictures. My piece tells a story about nature. I tried to show the beauty in all aspects of it, and while doing that, I tried to tell a story of my own.”

You tried your hardest not too think to hard about what he was saying. Which was hard considering you were literally the fucking center of this piece he was speaking of. “Your piece was a very well laid-out collage, how long did it take you to put it together?”

“Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, a gesture so familiar it felt like your heart was crying, “well I joined pretty last minute, so about a week, but I was cramming the whole time.”

You went quiet for a few minutes before coming up with your next question. “Was that your first choice? The piece I mean.” It wasn’t really relevant to the article but…you were curious. 

“I was going to do something with constellations,” he admitted. 

Oh. Thank god he didn’t. You might’ve lost your mind. 

“But those are harder to catch on camera, and I entered last minute,” he finished. “Plus,” he added, looking up at the clear blue morning sky, “my favorites are mostly visible during autumn.”

You felt like your heart was going to stop. So much history, so many unspoken things between the two of you. A part of you swore you could feel the tension wrapping itself around you and tightening, making it harder and harder to breathe the more time you spent with him. 

You don’t know how long the two of you walked in silence before he finally spoke up again, his voice hoarser than it was a few moments ago. “I thought of you every night you know.” You didn’t need to ask to know what he was talking about. “You could see them more clearly over there, the stars, and I thought of you every time. Not just because of the stars but…they were just a bigger reminder.”

“Peter—”

“You never did tell me what you thought of it. The collage.”

You paused. You weren’t sure what you thought of it. Objectively it was a great piece, beautiful, maybe one of his best works. It had won first place for a reason. But how the hell were you supposed to be objective about any of this? “I—I think it was well-deserving of its award.”

He let out a small chuckle, “Seriously Ace? Save that kinda talk for the article, tell me the truth.”

You paused, trying to figure out the right words. Taking in a deep breath, you said, “It was beautiful Pete, even if it was a little weird just seeing myself like that. I think it might be one of the most creative and beautiful things you’ve created. I understand what you mean,” gentler now, “about the feelings and the story and everything…I think you portrayed that really well.”

It went quiet between the two of you again and you wondered if you shouldn’t have said that. You were about to make up another question but he beat you to it, “I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn’t coming back here for you, that I didn’t have any expectations for us and that this whole transfer was completely irrelevant to how we ended things but that isn’t true. And I always knew it deep down, but I hit me like a bag of bricks when I saw you again.”

This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be really saying all this, you had to be dreaming. You had a boyfriend, Peter broke up with you, he didn’t want you any more. Right? He couldn’t just come here after not talking to you for over a year and claim he transferred schools because of you. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to just dump all that on you. 

“You were doing fine over there Peter, I heard everything. You had amazing grades, you were winning awards. You basically owned that school. So why’d you come back?”

“Okay, well you’re kinda over exaggerating. It wasn’t that great.”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes, “Don’t give me that bullshit, yeah it was. It was everything you were wishing it would be.”

“No it wasn’t!” He burst out, hands running through his hair. “I tried to enjoy it Ace, I really did. But I couldn’t.” He looked at you with a pained expression. “I should’ve been having the time of my life, because yeah, in theory, it was everything I could’ve wished for. But I couldn’t enjoy a goddamn thing knowing you were over here, living a whole life I wasn’t a part of. Being away from you killed me Ace, everything I said to you on graduation? That shit ripped my fucking heart out. I didn’t want it anymore than you did.”

Tears collected in his waterline and you felt a lump in your throat. Were you finally getting the explanation you’d dreamed and hoped for over and over? Why did you feel so nauseous? “I probably wanted it less, if I’m being honest,” he laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I hated it over there Ace, not a second went by where you weren’t on my mind, not a night went by where you weren’t in my dreams. I know this is probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard but you need to believe me, I thought I was doing what was right that day on graduation. I really, truly thought that you would be happier if I did that. Not at first maybe, but eventually.” His voice got quieter and he sounded so raw, so emotional, you almost burst into sobs, “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, I just want you to be happy Y/N.”

You swore you felt your heart split in half. Peter never called you by your name. Not since that night on your fire escape when you’d patched him up after a rough night of being Spider-Man and he first bestowed upon you his personal title, claiming that it ‘just suited you’. 

You froze. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what you were feeling, but it was a lot. “I—I have,” you cleared your throat to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Ace, wait, please.”

But you didn’t. This time, you were the one who ran away.

‘seasonal’ taglist: @keira-kaz2y5 @imafangirlofeverything @lov3vivian

@starsformiles @rkivesfilm

[eustasscapitankid]

Eustass Kid x Reader | GN! Challenge: Kikitober 2024 "Partners" Rating: Mature Warnings: None Tags: Lowkey Enemies to Lover, Partners Summary: You arrive on an island with your crew, buzzing with excitement about the rumored treasure hidden within its depths. Your crew is ragged and tired. As you set off alone, you literally bump into Kid, the notorious pirate, and a competitive bet ensues to see who can find the treasure first. Word Count: 820 Next Chapter →

first fanfic ever in honor of #kikitober2024, and what is the beginning of this blog (and all the super talented people on here i've already come across)!

Your ship has docked on a small island in the Grand Line. It may not seem like anything special, as it wasn't even registered by your ship's navigator's log pose. However, this island is rumored to hold a treasure worth a hefty sum.

It was your idea to come here, and your crew is injured and ragged, so you will be taking on this adventure alone...or so you thought. As you set foot on the beach, you soon realize that you are not the only one with the idea to search for the treasure here.

You recognize a familiar flag waving in the breeze—the Kid Pirates. As you stare at the flag, you suddenly crash into someone standing in your path. It feels like you have run into a slab of concrete. You go to apologize, but when you look up, you see a cocky grin on the face of none other than Kid himself.

His grin only seems to widen as he sees you stagger back. "Don't hurt yourself," he says, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"Oh, I won't," you scoff.

  "Here for the treasure?" he asks, clearly itching for some competition.

“And if I am?”

"Care to make a bet?" he challenges.

Disappointed that your crew has left you to your own devices, you find yourself intrigued by the idea of a bet. It would certainly make searching for this potential treasure haul much more interesting.

"What kind of bet?" you ask.

He looks you up and down, contemplating. "How long are you here for?"

 "A week," you reply matter-of-factually.

"Well...my crew told me to piss off and clearly yours did too...loser does whatever the winner says for the whole week?" he proposes.

The stakes are enticing, and your interest is piqued. You decide to accept, “Deal.”

You both have your own sources that led you to the knowledge of treasure hidden on this island and its whereabouts. As such, you both take off separately, seeking to gain an advantage over the other. However, it isn't long before you run into each other again. Stumped, you find yourselves interacting with one another - sharing information, helping each other with riddles and clues.

As the day progresses, you spend more time with Kid, helping each other through obstacles, than actually competing against him.

As the stakes of the obstacles increase, you find yourself trusting him more and more. Soon, what began as a friendly bet and rivalry devolves into laughter, banter, and...trust?

You shrug it off. So does he.

The night wears into days, and you realize that this is taking longer than either of you initially planned. But you are having so much fun that you could hardly care if you find the treasure anymore...in fact, you both figured out where the treasure was on the first day.

  As night falls, you both stop to camp together. Drinking, laughing, and bantering back and forth like a couple of belligerent fucks. Senseless and buzzed, you instinctively slump against Kid's shoulder. He hesitates, feeling his heart suddenly skip a beat. What the fuck?

You realize what you have done and quickly pull away. But he grabs you, one hand holding your shoulder firmly, and the other grabbing your chin - guiding your gaze to his own. Your breath hitches.

 "Kid...?" you say, unsure of what is happening.

 "I-I'm sorry-" he attempts to pull away, but you grab the hand that is grasping your chin.

"It's okay...I..." you gaze into his eyes, unsure of what to say.

His lips crash into yours. Gasping, you return his kiss, giving into every feeling you have been ignoring for the past few days. You both devolve into your base senses, giving into the feeling of your lips against one another and the friction building between your bodies.

His hands slide down your pants, and you feel yourself moving against him. You can't help yourself. What are you even doing? He is from another crew...wouldn't this only make things more complicated? "Uggnnnhhhh," you can't help but moan...his touch feeling like a drug.

 "Come with me," he suddenly says.

W-what?" you ask, surprised.

"You heard me...come with me. Join me. Join us."

You love your crew...you would never leave them. You would never abandon your captain for another, but...you can't force the words out of your mouth. He continues his movements, and your thoughts dissolve. Soon, you are moaning...

You both realize long ago that the treasure on this island was a trick. The map and clues forced you into interacting with another hunter...if you were lucky enough to have been searching at the same time as someone, lucky enough to find a partner. The real treasure was each other. He was the treasure...

Your body shuddered uncontrollably as you felt yourself crawling to the edge.

“Yes!” you moaned.

He smirked, watching you fall apart in his hands.

"Ready to be ordered around for a week..?"

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

[sleepy-wyvern]

Billy Hargrove x Female!Reader (SMUT)

Chapter: 1/? (smut in later chapter) part 2 here

Summary: Billy pursues an uninterested reader trying to gain her adoration. When reader finds her crush kissing someone else that's when she realizes her feelings are towards the wrong guy.

TW/CW: persistent flirting, cigarettes, marijuana, violent threat (not towards reader)

This fic only contains characters that are 18+ and will contain smut, as such 18+ readers only, minors absolutely DNI

For the lovely @strangelysupernatural ! Thanks for challenging me to write a difficult character! It was super fun and I'm sorry part one took so long 😂 go check out her page for her part of the challenge to write for my baby Steve Harrington! And more AMAZING billy & eddie fics sure to make you melt! 🥰

The moment Billy laid eyes on you he had one thing in mind: the need to corrupt your shy, goody two-shoes attitude. The fact that you weren’t interested in him seemed to drive his instinct to chase even more.

You were 18 but unfortunately had to move to a new town known as Hawkins before graduation. It was absolutely the worst time to make friends as cliques had already been long since established and most people were parting ways in a month or so.

Still, you were the shiny new toy amongst the high school so people stared curiously. You ignored them all except one that you couldn’t seem to avoid.

The moment you saw him across the cafeteria your heart leapt in your throat. You looked away but still felt his hungry eyes on your body. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, part of you was urging you to go to him like a magnet you fought to ignore.

He had large soft eyes, a curly mullet that seemed to grow on you, a faint hint of facial hair and of course a muscular frame. The man was built like a truck; seemingly out of place amongst the other students.

“Whose that?” You asked, clutching your dull blue cafeteria tray as you sat at the lunch table. 

Your first friend in this foreign world had sat next to you, graciously giving you company and the run down of the place. She had always worn a heavy metal or rock themed outfit, perhaps at first coming off as scary but she was the sweetest person at this wretched place. You were thankful you had been placed at the empty desk next to hers in English class.

“That’s Billy Hargrove,” she answered with a loving sigh. “Don’t waste your time though he’s a fuck boy that only cares about one night stands.”

You look down at your lunch trying to avoid eye contact but you could feel his gaze over you. 

“Thanks Bunny,” you smiled to her genuinely appreciating the warning. 

She tucked a strand of wild brown hair behind her ear as she smiled to you softly before noticing him walking towards you in the corner of her eye. “Uh-oh,” she sighed.

His steps approached and your breath seemed to catch in your throat. You held your hands in front of you nervously as your mind buzzed. He’s definitely not coming this way, right? Even if he was, he wouldn't speak to you because you're sitting with someone right?

When he neared your table your heart stopped as he did.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” His voice seemed to purr as he put his hands on the table “fresh meat?” 

“Leave her alone, Billy, she’s not interested.” Bunny groaned at him with a glare that would’ve scared you had it been directed your way. Her beautiful blue eyes seemed equally terrifying under the cafeteria fluorescent lights.

He wasn't yet deterred as he leaned forward with his fists on the cafeteria table. You could smell a hint of expensive cologne as he loomed over you.

“How about she tell me that herself?” His pink tongue rolled over his chapped lips as he spoke, soft eyes watching you intently with his head tilted. You wondered for a moment how his expression was so soft when the rest of him was covered in sharp edges.

You stood holding your tray with half eaten food “Not interested.”

You make your way to the trash can, throwing the scraps out before returning your tray. When you turned around though, he was still standing there. 

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, gaze caught on his firm chest which didn’t seem like a great alternative choice for your mental resolve.

“Can I help you?” You asked as polite and calm as you could muster. 

“Yeah, actually.” He folded his arms clearly flexing his muscles as he did “How about a date?”

It took all of your willpower to ignore the tone of muscle in his arms.

You squint your eyes at him finding the courage to look up to his face “did you not hear me? I’m not interested.”

You walk past him catching the scent of his cologne once again, this time it seemed to fill your entire body, swirling through your veins like addictive poison. A sweet, delicious toxin.

“We’ll see about that,” he called from behind you and you were glad he couldn’t see your expression. 

“Careful, y/n,” Bunny warned with a sly smile “that’s a spicy one. You get caught in that trap you’ll never get out.”

Thankfully that was the last of his advances for that day. The next day however, you found he was still not deterred. 

He found you once more, this time at the library as you looked for a new book to read. 

“Huh, and she reads?” He asked rolling a cherry red lollipop over his tongue as he leaned against the door frame.

His voice startled you at first but quickly you rolled your eyes “I’m surprised you’re here. You don’t seem like the type.”

“The type to read?” He asked, hovering his lollipop over his lips.

“The type to be literate,” you muttered, “since you clearly ignored what I said yesterday.”

Instead of being offended he chuckled low seeming to enjoy your remark “Feisty. I like it.”

You sighed.

“Listen Billy, I know exactly about boys like you. You dote on girls, say whatever they want to hear to get them to spread their legs for you and then you don’t call them in the morning. I’m not falling for that crap.” You looked at him seriously but his soft brown eyes didn’t change expression as they darted between yours. They were soft and seemed to be filled with almost an innocent adoration you figured to be a ploy.

“Are you listening? Did you even hear a word I said?” You asked. 

He took the lollipop out of his mouth with two fingers “honestly? No. I was too busy looking at how gorgeous you are.”

Despite the flutter of butterflies it awoke inside you you weren’t interested. Guys like him were bad news, good for nothing and definitely not boyfriend material. You weren’t exactly looking for a one night stand either, not with this fuckboy. 

You rolled your eyes turning to leave, feeling his eyes watch your curves as you stride away.

The next part of your plan was to ignore him until he lost interest. It worked well even in the shared class together. You sat towards the front of the class while he sat in the back, leaning against the uncomfortable plastic chair.

Bunny was in that class with you too, and she leaned over to whisper to you while the teacher was occupied. 

“The man is consuming you with his eyes back there, y/n. What did you say to him?” Bunny looked both confused and intrigued. 

You sigh with a slight eye roll, not daring to look back at him “I told him I’m not interested.”

There was one guy you were a little interested in though since moving here. 

Steve Harrington he was known as, or Steve “The Hair” Harrington Bunny called him. Total jock as well, which wasn't exactly your type but the man was gorgeous and sweet like golden honey.

When he actually paid attention to you it was a surreal feeling. How could a guy like that have any interest in someone like me?

You were hooked since the day he introduced himself to you and since then you looked forward to every chance you got to see him.

“Hey I was thinking,” Steve asked, his hazel eyes glowing as he leaned against the brick wall of the school. You were outside with the sun beaming down giving him an almost angelic appearance. “I was going to have a party at my place since my parents are gone anyways. You wanna come? You could take Bunny and her boyfriend, Eddie was it?”

“Yeah,” although it wasn’t Eddie’s scene you knew Bunny would likely drag him along if she was interested. You run your lips together before smiling “I’d like that.”

“Steve Harrington!” The loud voice booms and you close your eyes keeping back a groan.

God damnit Billy Hargrove I swear if you mess this up for me. 

Steve turned his head to look at Billy, body tensing “yeah it’s me. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“King Steve! I’ve heard so much about you,” Billy smiled but his tone was anything but friendly as he slapped his arm against Steve’s back. 

You roll your eyes “take it to the locker room why don’t you and leave me the hell alone Billy.”

“Is it that bad to just want to talk?” He asked innocently. 

“You heard the girl,” Steve said with a glare that could kill a man.

You looked at Steve and sighed “you go on, I’ll call you later.”

Steve glared at Billy as he walked by “call me when you get back to your house.” It was a sweet gesture but you knew it was a threat to Billy that he ignored.

“Y/n,” his silky voice spoke, making you groan when Steve was out of earshot “have you been avoiding me?”

“Awww look he’s smart, putting two and two together finally?” You turned to him clearly not interested in his bullshit. 

He smiled wildly when you noticed he held a cigarette between his lips “oh but it’s hard to forget about you, the absence of beauty is heavy on my heart.”

“Listen,” you turn to him and he raises his eyebrows surprised. “I know you think you’re hot shit or whatever but not every girl likes you and you’re just going to have to accept it. I'm not playing hard to get, I’m just not interested and I want you to leave me alone.”

He put his hands up defensively “alright, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

From the treatment of guys past you were genuinely surprised at how easily he had accepted your words. He actually did seem sorry and he took his vow seriously. The next few days you hadn’t heard from him at all. 

Instead you enjoyed your uninterrupted time after classes talking to Steve. You hated to admit it but you had a crush.

As you were leaving class on Thursday, you walked down the hall when a sight made your heart drop to your stomach. Steve was up against Nancy's locker with his lips pressed into hers. His ex you knew, as Bunny had filled you in.

Angry tears burned in your eyes as you walked past. Was it that you had misinterpreted his advances and he just wanted to be friends? You cursed at yourself for letting your guard down, brushing the back of your hand against your cheeks to wipe away the tears

As you stuff your books into your locker you grab your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. When you shut your locker you look down the hall seeing them locked in an embrace again. You thought you did your best to hide your reaction but as you glance further down the line of lockers you notice Billy looking at you, eyes melting from interest to concern. 

You blink back any anger or upset feelings brewing inside you, turning and walking quickly down the hall. 

“Hey, y/n,” Billy called out as you pushed past the crowd headed the opposite direction.

“Y/n!” He shouted. 

You reached for the metal handle on the side door, pulling it back but his strong hand slammed it shut again. 

“Listen,” Billy said and you turned to look at him. 

“What do you want, Billy? I’m really not in the fucking mood,” your eyes flashed anger at him. 

“It’s not fair that he did that to you,” he ran his fingers through his curls “in fact if you hadn’t ran off I probably would’ve punched him then and there.”

You let out a scoff you didn’t mean to, you didn’t want to admit it but his words did make you feel better. 

“And about the other day, you’re right. I need to give you space and I was a douche bag to you for not respecting that.” He paused looking outside for a moment before back at you. “I was planning on leaving you alone without saying anything but then I saw that in the hall and-“

Your sudden strange reaction caught him off guard mid-sentence as he stopped speaking. You look over your shoulder and up the school stairwell ensuring no one was watching.

“What?” He asked and as you watched his pink lips move you knew what you needed to do; to test something.

You pushed him against the old school wall with your hand to his chest. Wrapping your arms around his neck you stood on your tiptoes, losing your fingers in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss. 

As the shock wore off he took over, pulling you close to him by your waist. His soft tongue brushed against your lips requesting an entrance as you parted them for him. His taste was addicting as it swirled a tinge of sweet tobacco. His hands explored his way ever so slightly beneath the fabric of your top.

“Hey!” A teacher yelled as your body jolted in shock, pulling away from him “save it for off school property please.”

Bright red painted your cheeks but the teacher just sounded annoyed. 

“Sure thing Ms. O'Donnell,” Billy’s lips were curved in a smirk as he ran his tongue over his lips. 

You rolled your eyes pushing open the side door and stepping out into the cool air. You could hear his footsteps trailing behind you as you walked but you didn’t turn around. 

“Would you stop running from me, please?” He seemed to growl low in his throat as you turned to look at him. “I think we should talk,” words you didn’t expect him to say.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before turning to look at him. He stood behind you, hands in his pockets and you weren’t sure if you trusted the compassionate look in his eyes. 

“What, Billy?” You sighed looking around “Look, I’ve heard the stories about you. It’s not exactly a secret that you have one night stands with whatever pretty little thing you lay your eyes on. Frankly, I’m not interested.”

“I was like that. You’re right. And normally I’d be down for that kind of thing. Since I met you though, you’re different.” He hesitated looking into the distance “ever since I saw you in that cafeteria I can’t stop thinking about you. Every day, every night. You’re always on my mind.”

The cool breeze seemed to suck the air out of your lungs as your lips parted in a gasp.

Part 2

====

💙💙💙💙

Hope you enjoyed! Reminder my requests are OPEN!

Have a great day my lovely reader 💙

-Wyv

[an-aroaces-harem]

After reading Ellis' current event route finally without a translator right before I went to sleep, my mind went to interesting places in the 'trying-to-fall-asleep-phase'. Especially because they kept a certain scene in and it wasn't in awkward japanese euphemisms. Let me tell you, japanese smut is very ... interesting?

Anyway, everything under the cut because sexual territory.

You know, I started to wonder if Kate's the most sexual and um, open MC we have so far. So my mind tried to puzzle together the info of the other MCs I have. If I missed anything (especially ikerev and ikegen) feel free to correct me.

Also, as a note, I mostly referring to how the MCs were like prior to becoming a couple because in basically every game, the moment they start to date, the horny levels rise high.

In IkeRev, we have Alice and while she is older than she looks, considering the time period she grew up, she pretty much was a virgin prior to falling into Cradle. I haven't played much ikerev, so my knowledge is really limited, but while she seemed quite innocent, she also didn't freak out before doing the deed. Also, Seth's route, just saying.

In IkeSen we have Mai who's undoubtly the horniest we had so far. I don't think it was ever mentioned anywhere but I don't think she was a virgin prior to travelling back into time. Also, there was a event (I don't recall which one) where Mai and Masamune are definitely 69ing. Oh, she definitely initiates which is surprising considering how the japanese archetype of a woman is like.

In IkeVamp, we have Mitsuki. I'm gonna be honest, I don't like her and please, please someone take that ugly, plain white bra away from her. Anyway, I'm pretty sure she mentioned she wasn't a virgin anymore; it was just a little comment after (probably) Arthur assumed she had to be one. Who can blame him tho, she does seem rather innocent. At least we've got canon big boy #1, Theo.

In IkeGen, we have Yoshino. My knowledge is super limited, but I do know there was an occurence of Yoritomo teaching her how to do a blowjob. Oh, and prior to ikevil, Ibuki held the title of earliest sex scene and highest amount of sex I believe as well. Could be wrong there.

In IkePri, we have Emma who definitely is a virgin, considering her 'romance has to be like THIS' schtick she had especially in the beginning. Also, her topping attempts never succeeded (tho it's less her and more the writers' fault) and I don't think I have seen her initiating? She is kinky tho, considering how much she's into biting in Chev's and Gilbert's routes.

And then, we have IkeVil. Kate touched herself in Ellis' premium end in the handcuff event and I really wonder, did we ever have a MC doing that? Also, the amount of suggestive content prior to a route release is insane (I'm sorry Victor stans, I know you have it hard with the few crumbs). I do think she was a virgin prior to all of this, she she's rather open from what I've seen. Seriously, lets list up what ikevil presented us so far: William and Kate having sex in chapter 10.5 prior to a relationship, Alfons overtaking Ibuki's record, Roger being canonically big boy #2, the handjob from Kate to Ellis from the every inch of you ecb story, Jude having an actual sex scene (outside from AU stories) way before his release, Harry complaining that he's totally pent up after not having sex for ONE day, Harry and Kate probably 69ing as well, the vore stuff from seams like love and the list goes on ...

Maybe I'm just biased because imo, ikevil is the best game Cybird made so far yet. The stories are intriguing, and the story events don't feel like I'm reading the same over and over, just in a different context. Hell, not even the Don't Look At Anyone But Me event turned me off, even though I hate the jealousy trope in basically every form.

Anyway, that's what my sleep-addled brain came up with. Mai may be the horniest one, but Kate has so far showing more kinky sides, so they're pretty much on par. Again, if I missed something, confused something or anything else, feel free to let me know.

[gremlin-bot]

One (1) New Reply

I finally wrote my prompt I sent to @stealingyourbones back in November! well part of it. This is just chapter 1, so this gets a summary @dpxdcshipweek

Edit: forgot to say that I got help with the usernames from the wonderful @tourettesdog and @half-dead-ham! (If I'm wrong it's bc I'm not at home rn to look at my notes)

Ao3 link: Here Master List: Here

Summary: Danny has always had more internet access than a child really should have had. He tended to spend that time on game forums and different websites dedicated to space. Everyone once in a while he'd venture onto one about heroes and villains. That's how he met Tim Drake-Wayne or BatShadow as was his username back then.

Chapter 1: Blorbo Supplier

Danny just wanted to see uncommon pictures of Superman. It really shouldn't have been this hard. He's an alien, there should be a lot of pictures of him. Frustrated with his lack of results he resorts to looking for the pictures through unpopular social media websites that should have new pictures. His first look didn't meet his goal, and before he could even think of trying again he was distracted by a post. It was a picture of a figure swinging between skyscrapers, backlit by neon light all against a smog filled sky. It was stunning and made all the more captivating by the identity of the subject in the photo. A picture of Batman, The Batman, taken in a way that you couldn't deny it was him. That was impressive on its own, but the quality is what made it shine. Danny had to see if the account had more pictures of Batman, or even other heroes. Looking at the blog, hoping it wasn't a deactivated user, he finds the posts of BatShadow. 

The blog is a gold mine of pictures of Batman and Robin with some villains the duo we're fighting. All with stunning quality, with each subject undeniable as who they were but still giving a sense of privacy. Sadly, Danny couldn't find any other heroes pictured, but Danny could live with that. Batman was his third favorite hero, he blames Sam and all her knowledge on the edgy and obscure. She would be ecstatic about these photos, too bad he wasn't going to tell her. He was being petty. Sam should have known better than to say he couldn't keep a secret, so this is his secret now! Pettiness aside, Danny was going to message BatShadow to see if they had pictures of other heroes they hadn't posted.

Messages begins with BatShadow

(04-17-20xx)

ConstellationCruiser:

Hey, sorry to bother ya

I just saw your posts and was wondering if you have any pics of superman

BatShadow:

I don't know. I would have to look. I don't usually go to an area with him in it much, so no promises.

ConstellationCruiser: 

Thanks!! And that's fine really, it's just that your pics are amazing

BatShadow:

Thanks! Sorry, I have nothing for Supes.

ConstellationCruiser:

Damn

It's fine 

I wasn't really expecting much

I'm just surprised at the quality and quantity ya got there

BatShadow: 

It's super hard to get them without being caught but so worth it!

Danny continued talking to BatShadow about pictures and superheroes. Eventually switching to personal interest. Danny learns that BatShadow skateboards and in turn he tells them all about the stars. By the end of their conversation it was well into the night, Jazz wasn't going to be pleased. It was worth it though.

—-----

Danny ended up messaging again the next day, and the day after that. The other user was interesting and he was just so broad. Especially during these long summer days where Sam was off at some gala trip and Tucker was on vacation with his family. His parents being busy in the Lab at all hours and Jazz working a summer job didn't help. Even with Jazz trying to get him out of the house but it never really was worth it. Not with Dash and his gaggle out. Not without his friends there.

It's not like anyone besides Jazz would care about what he was doing online. Their parents were too caught up in drawing out plans and blueprints for a ghost portal or something. He doesn't care, it's more of the same for him. Don't get him wrong, he loved his parents and they loved him. They just pay more attention to their inventions, and this one happens to be one Danny can't help out with.

He's getting distracted. Danny was supposed to be cleaning the lab, not thinking of long gone days. It was taking way longer than he thought it would. His parents really aren't as careful with their samples as they really should be. After cleaning spilled ectoplasm from the vent grates he will finally be done, then he can get on the computer and add BatShadow on Steam. They were going to play Portal 2 together later.

—----

Tim didn't think he would still be talking to ConstellationCruiser. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, (if there was anyone to talk to in the first place), but he was lonely. So, sue him if he got attached to the other kid with too much free time on their hands. They may not have told each other their ages but it wasn't hard to figure out, they talked too similar.

It was nice to really connect with someone his age. ConstellationCruiser was smart like him, just in different areas. He had learned more about the stars and space travel in the last handful of months than he ever had in his 12 years of life. He knows he wasn't any better, going on about hacking and maybe the new murder mystery that came out. It was fun, learning about the other's interests and different things than what's normal for them. 

ConstellationCruiser's parents seem to have some type of lab in the basement of their house, which was cool in concept but concerning in practice. There have been times where they had to stop in the middle of a game they were playing together to check on an explosion they heard. It happened more than Tim was comfortable with but there's nothing he can really do about it. It's not like he was anyone better about certain aspects of his life either. He avoided the topic of food as much as possible, though it seems ConstellationCruiser is doing the same thing with the topic.

Tim just hopes the other won't worry over him not responding the next couple of days. He probably should warn them but this is time sensitive. Batman needs a Robin. The man is running himself into the ground. His new found grief choking him and by extension Gotham. He has to convince Nightwing to come back, no matter what it takes.

[hellcheeriest]

i bet he's never had a backstreet guy

Twitch Streamer!Eddie x Single dad!Steve

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary: Introductory Chapter where we meet Steve and his son Dustin, and Eddie and his group of friends.

Content Warnings: Slight age gap (Steve is 31, Eddie is 26), bullying.

A/N: I wrote this almost two years ago and the full first chapter ended up being almost ten thousand words... and then i never finished writing the second chapter. Here's a heavily re written first chapter! I'm splitting this up much more, and this chapter is shorter than the rest will be as its mostly an intro chapter to introduce characters and their dynamics :)

w/c: 2,017

January, 2023

STEVE HARRINGTON

“Fuck, dude!” A voice blared from Dustin’s phone. The kitchen was warmly lit as Steve flipped a pancake. It was a Monday morning, and the sun’s light peaked through the crack between the curtains. The smell of bacon cooling on the counter wafted through the air, and Steve turned to give his son a disapproving glare.

“Hey, what’s with the language?” Steve asked, turning over hashbrowns in a separate, smaller pan.

“Sorry, dad. Just a streamer I’m watching.” Dustin replied as he took a sip of his orange juice. “He and his friends are like, super funny.” Steve stalked over, a full plate of breakfast in his hands. He placed it on the counter in front of Dustin, leaning over Dustin’s shoulder to view the gameplay shown on the screen. They were playing a game he vaguely recognized as something Dustin had shown him while saving up his allowance money.

A different voice sounded from the phone. A lighter one, belonging to someone who the first person referred to as ‘Chrissy.’

“Who are they?” Steve asked as he returned to the stove. Dustin took a bite of his pancakes.

“The guy is Eddie. He’s the one playing the game.” Dustin began, pausing only when his dad scolded him for talking with his mouth full. “The girl is Chrissy.”

Steve smiled as his son ranted. Dustin was typically very passionate about his interests, and Steve loved seeing his son so happy. It was too often that Dustin came home from school deflated and downright miserable. He was nerdy, and the type of kid that was bullied even back when Steve was in school. Apparently times haven't changed.

“You really like these guys, huh?” Steve asked, thoughtful, as he turned off the burners and brought the now empty pans to the sink.

“Yeah!” Dustin began, practically bouncing in his seat. “Their friend group is all super cool, and Eddie-” He took a moment when the man- Eddie, cracked a joke that made Chrissy laugh. “Eddie used to be bullied, too. And he’s super cool, so…” Steve sent his son a small, sad smile. He walked over to Dustin, and pulled him into a hug. “He just makes me feel better.”

“Well,” Steve ran a hand through Dustin’s curly hair. “I’m glad he makes you feel better. As long as you don’t get a swearing problem, got it?” He asked, smirking.

Dustin broke into a smile, nodding.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dustin gulped down the rest of his orange juice. “I'm finished eating, can we get going? I don't want to be late for school!”

_____________________

EDDIE MUNSON

Eddie @/hellfyre

streaming among us with friends :)

@/bluefille

@/rockinrobin

@/jefftheekiller

@gareththatsme

@/grrant

twitch.tv/hellfyre

_____________________

Chris @/bluefille

Can’t wait! :)

Rob @/rockinrobin

im here against my will.

_____________________

Eddie’s room was dark, the light of his monitors casting a shadow behind him. He sighed and slid down in his chair. He was deafend in the discord call with most of his friends and he loaded up the game, his cursor hovering over the ‘Go Live’ button. He ran a hand through his slightly unkempt hair, thankful for the fact he hasn’t shown his face yet. He wasn't even sure he owned a camera minus the one built into his monitors. Taking a deep breath, Eddie presses the button and lets his ‘Stream starting soon’ screen play out.

Quickly the viewer count rose from a few hundred to a couple thousand, and after five minutes Eddie unmuted his microphone.

“Hey chat!” He grinned at the spamming of emotes in the chat. “Today, as you know, we’re doing among us with corroded coffin and friends. Robin and Chrissy, my personal favourites, but don’t tell the guys that.” He laughed. “Jeff and Gareth just got back from vacation so hopefully they suck, and Austin has yet to join us.”

Eddie pulled up a picture of his guitar and shrank it down to cover where the room code would go.

“Among us in 2023?” He read from the chat. “You know it.”

Eddie undeafened in discord, the loud voices of his friends instantly shot through his headphones.

“Gareth, you prick!” Robin shouted down her microphone. “Take that back you heathen.”

“God, Robin. Mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Eddie asked.

“Gareth’s flaunting his relationship with Jeff! Practically rubbing it in my face! He’s basically making fun of how I don’t have a girlfriend.” Robin whined and Gareth laughed.

“Can we please just start the game? I don’t want to deal with this debate anymore!” Jeff pleaded.

“You’re just asking that because you get all flustered whenever Gareth gushes about you.” Chrissy added, her voice soft as ever.

“Yeah, Jeff, we get it. You’re in a happy relationship and you hold hands and blah blah blah.” Eddie joked, putting on a New Yorker accent.

“Hey, leave my mans alone.” Gareth said and Jeff groaned, causing everyone else to laugh. “I’m making the room.”

“Sorry guys, my mom just called. I gotta go.” Robin said, her raspy voice wavering as she tried not to laugh, giving her away.

“Fuck you Robin.” Gareth retorted and Robin cackled. “I’m posting the code in the discord, assholes.

“I’m too sober for this.” Austin said, finally deciding to speak up after joining to the pandemonium.

_____________________

It had been an hour and a half straight of playing among us, and Eddie was starting to get a headache. His throat was sore from the accent he chose to do in the last round they played.

“Well, guys. I still have to eat dinner so I should get going.” Eddie confessed, rubbing his eyes.

“Okay, Eddie! Enjoy your dinner.” Chrissy yawned. It was eight PM for the both of them, and Chrissy’s childhood habit of going to bed on time carried over to adulthood and it was her wind down time by now

“Night man.” Gareth said, and wishes of a good rest from Jeff, Robin and Austin followed. Eddie returned the gesture and hung up. He bid farewell to his viewers before shutting down his stream and turning off his computer. He stretched, before standing up and leaving his small bedroom and heading to the small kitchenette of his apartment. He grabbed one of the TV dinners that sat in his freezer and threw it in the microwave for a few minutes.

He walked to his bathroom and grabbed an elastic off of the counter, wrapping it around his hair before leaning over the sink and splashing water over his warm face. After rubbing a towel down his face, he leaned on the counter and stared into the mirror, taking in his appearance.

He wouldn't say he was insecure of his looks, but it was a daunting thing to think about when his side of the internet were constantly talking about how devastatingly hot he must be.

What if they didn't like how he looked?

That was a thought that rarely crossed his mind. He prided himself on the fact that he didn't care what others thought, and really, after years of bullying he'd grown a tough shell. So no, he wouldn't care about what others thought. He only thought like this when he was drunk or tired, and he wasn't drunk. The dark purple of his under eyes confirmed it was the latter.

They stood out against the pale skin of his face, similar to how the black of his self-cropped Metallica shirt he'd gotten at a concert and dark tattoos that ran all down his torso clashed with his almost fragile looking flesh.

Thank you iron deficiency. And college.

He'd just skimmed by and managed to graduate on his third attempt at senior year, so he wasn't sure why he decided to torture himself further by becoming an English major, especially since his streaming career seemed to be kicking off and who knew if he would even end up needing it?

After the beep of the microwave went off, he went back to the microwave and grabbed the plastic dish and went to the reclining arm chair in his small, plain living room. It was always a shock stepping into the modern bright white walls of his apartment after living his whole life in the cluttered comfortability of his uncle's trailer. They didn’t have much then, but he was happy. 

Eddie put on an anniversary re-run of some old, popular sit com. The laugh track filled his otherwise quiet apartment and Eddie started chewing on the tough, TV dinner steak.

He’s still happy now, he supposes. A bit bored, maybe. He didn’t see his uncle much anymore, and he lived alone. The only friend he lived close to was Chrissy, and even she lived an hour out of the city Eddie was in. He loved streaming, loved providing content for the people who’d watch it, and he knew it was selfish to wish for more when so many would kill to have what he has.

But sometimes he can’t help it.

_____________________

STEVE HARRINGTON

Steve was worried. He was parked outside of Dustin’s high school. Band ended fifteen minutes ago and there was still no sign of his curly headed son. It wasn’t often Dustin stayed behind this long, not unless he was getting pestered by some moron. After another moment Steve huffed and got out of his car, walking into the school.

It was somewhat nostalgic to walk the halls of the highschool, the same one Steve went to way back when. The walls were a different colour now, and banners hung from wall to wall to announce different events. Steve wasn't here to reminisce, though.

He was a few feet away from Dustin’s locker when he saw two larger teenagers cornering his son into the metal of the lockers, spitting harmful words to Dustin’s already terrified face. The guys seemed to be older, maybe even in their senior year, and Dustin was small, only in the ninth grade.

“Hey!” Steve called out, his pace increasing in speed as the guys turned to look at him. “Hey, what’s going on here?”

“Dude, is that who I think it is?” One of the guys asked. Oh great. Steve thought. Jocks.

Steve wasn’t proud of who he was in highschool. He was a loud, ignorant asshole just like the two here that were harassing his son. The thought made his heart hurt. 

“Steve Harrington? What are you doing here?” The other asked, laughing as he held Dustin by the collar of his shirt.

“Well, I’m here to pick up my son, but it seems he’s been held back.” Steve said through gritted teeth, hoping that his visceral hatred spilled through into his tone, and the two older boys' faces paled before they scrambled to get away from the two. Steve scoffed, and was quick to kneel down in front of his son whose face was red and wet with tears. His shirt was soaked, and his nose was bloodied, and Steve’s chest felt heavy with anger. 

Calming himself down, Steve held Dustin’s shoulders.

“Hey, bud.” He started softly. “Let’s getcha home, hey?” A small sob broke through Dustin’s lips as he nodded and Steve brought his son in for a hug.

Soon they were outside and walking to the car, Dustin under Steve’s arm.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Steve asked after getting in the car and Dustin shook his head, facing out the window. Steve sighed quietly and looked at his hands where they gripped the steering wheel. “I saw a notification on your phone this afternoon,” This seemed to catch Dustin’s attention. “I think that streamer you like posted something. Maybe you’ll have something to watch when you get home?”

Finally, Dustin smiled. It was small, but Steve was grateful. Dustin nodded.

“I still want to hear about what happened today, kay?” He asked gently, and Dustin nodded again, but slower this time. Steve put a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

After a moment he started the car and drove out of the school parking lot.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 7, Unburdened - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, brutal honesty, mentions of some sexy stuff, but no actual sex-on-page, mention of m masturbation,

Word Count: 3k

Previously On...: Bucky spent the entire evening at Jade Carthage's side, and when he calls her "doll," you had enough and stormed off. The two of you have the very first argument of your friendship, and now Bucky says you need to talk...

A/N: I had a very shitty and emotionally draining evening yesterday, so I didn't get any writing done, unfortunately. But I need to make myself feel better somehow, so let's post Chapter 7! I think many of you will agree with me when I say "Fucking finally!" to what transpires here! Alas, though, there are plenty of emotional ups and downs still to come, because that's just life, isn't it?

Also, I finally watched Lisa Frankenstein to cheer myself up last night. What a delightfully messed up, fun, campy romp that was! Highly recommend if you haven't already!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321

The silence in your room felt deafening as you closed the door behind Bucky. For the very first time in your friendship, it felt awkward having him in your space, and you could tell he felt it, too. You crossed over to your sitting area and sat in one of your arm chairs, curling up into yourself. Bucky sat in the chair opposite you, leaning his elbows on his thighs to support his weight. The two of you just stared into space for a long moment, avoiding the other's gaze.

"You wanted to talk," you said eventually, "so talk."

Bucky looked up to meet your eyes, and you could see the sadness and defeat in them. "I'm sorry, Pocket. You're right, I've been an ass all night. I didn't do it with the intention to hurt you, but I hurt you anyway because I wasn't thinking about how my actions would affect you, and that's almost worse. I'm sorry."

You exhaled and looked away from him, afraid that if you held his gaze for too long, you wouldn't be able to stop the tears that would certainly come. "Listen, Buck," you said, swallowing hard, "if you're interested in pursuing something with Jade, that's... well, it's your life, you're free to date whoever you want. We never put any labels or rules on whatever this thing between us is, so I know I don't have any right to be jealous, but watching you flirt so openly with her right in front of me, like I didn't even exist? I can't begin to explain to you how worthless and small that made me feel. So, if you think you want to try for something with her, you have to let me know so I can try to move on, because I can't sit around and watch it happen. It's too painful."

When you looked back over at him, Bucky had gotten up and was now kneeling on the floor in front of you, practically beaming as he took you in.

"Why are you smiling like a lunatic?" you asked, an edge of concern in your voice. "You're creeping me out."

"Pocket," he murmured, cupping your face in his hands as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. For a moment, you considered pulling away, but the feel of his lips on your skin was such a comfort, you stayed still. "My absolute one and only doll, you've got it all wrong. I let you get the wrong idea and stew with it and I am so, so sorry."

You did pull away at that. "What are you talking about? How do I have the wrong idea?"

Bucky leaned back until he was resting on his heels. "I am interested in Jade, that's true." He took your hands in his as you felt your heart drop into your stomach. "But not in the way you think." He brought your hands to his lips and began placing kisses across your knuckles. "Doll, there's only been one girl I've been interested in pursuing something with in the last seventy-five years, and I'm sitting across from her right now."

You shook your head, sure you had misheard him. "I don't understand."

He chuckled and looked up at you through his lashes, the sight so beautiful, your breath caught in your chest. "Pocket, I have been crazy about you since the moment you made that god-awful 'unarmed' joke. At first I thought a girl as pretty as you, as smart as you, as good as you, you'd never give a guy like me, even without my history, a second look, and I'd be content to just watch you from the sidelines, you know? Watch you be beautiful and bright and I'd be happy my world was a better place just because you were in it.

"But you went outta your way to be nice to me. You talked Tolkien with me, you wanted to spend time with me, you wanted to be my friend, and I thought 'This is already more than you deserve, it's more than enough.' Then, when I had my nightmare, you didn't run away. You stayed. You stayed, and you understood, you let me hold you, and I-I was a goner for you. And that night...," he groaned at the memory, "God, that night you kissed me back, and you let me touch you, in all the ways I dreamed of touching you, all the ways I'd imagined touching you while I fucked my fist for practically a year, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to give you up after that.

"You'd told me about your past, how you were scared of relationships but, sweetheart, I was so greedy, I'd take any part of you you were willing to give me, your friendship, your body, even if it wasn't ever gonna be your heart. I'd take any crumb you offered me, and I'd be grateful for it."

You blinked your eyes repeatedly, dazed by his confession and unable to articulate words. Bucky's face fell as your silence stretched on.

"You don't feel the same way," he said, voice low as he stood up. "I'm sorry-- I-I shouldn't have dumped all of that on you. I'll go--." He turned and made steps toward your door, but you jumped up, reaching out to grab his arm.

"Bucky, wait," you turned him back to face you and brought your lips crashing to his with such intensity that he stumbled backwards a few steps before wrapping his arms around you to kiss you back.

"I love you," you gasped when you broke apart for air, breathing out a laugh when his eyes widened comically in shock. "I'm so fucking in love with you that it terrifies me, because it's an entirely brand new experience and I don't know how to do it. I'm so worried that I'm going to fuck it up and scare you away, or that you're gonna realize I'm not worth it and I don't even know how to live without you anymore."

Bucky held your face between his hands. "Are you serious right now?" he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of deception. "You're not fucking with me?"

You shook your head emphatically, bringing your hands up to cover his. "No, no, I'm completely serious. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes." You laughed; the more you said the words, the more you realized how entirely true they were. "I love you and I've been so insanely jealous all night because I thought you were interested in her."

Bucky looked down at you with the brightest smile, like the sun shining after a storm, before pulling you toward him so he could kiss you again. You hadn't even realized you'd started to cry until, after Bucky had pulled away, he was brushing the tears from your cheeks.

"I love you, Pocket," he whispered as he began peppering kisses across your face. "I love you and I'm so sorry for everything I did tonight that would make you doubt that you're the most important person in my life and the best thing to ever happen to me."

The reminder of his earlier actions drew you out of the emotional haze his declaration had put you in. "Wait," you said, pulling back and putting some distance between the two of you, "if you've been in love with me this whole time, how come you've been weird about Jade ever since you saw her profile in those folders Tony gave us?" Bucky ran a hand down his face and sighed. Taking your hand, he led you back to the armchair you'd previously vacated and sat, pulling you down to sit on his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

"I told you that I am interested in Jade," he began, but when he felt you tense beneath him, he quickly continued, "but I'm not interested in dating her, or sleeping with her. You're the only girl who's got my attention in those departments." He paused to nuzzle at the junction of your neck and shoulder and you took the opportunity to run your fingers through his hair.

"Go on," you gently urged him.

"I'm interested in getting to know Jade, in talking to her, because she's... well, she's like me, you know? She's got the serum, and I don't know anyone else who's got it that's still alive."

You put a finger on his chin, tilting his face up to meet yours. "But, Steve," you said, somewhat confused, "he's got the serum, too, and you talk to him all the time."

Bucky sighed and shook his head. "Steve's got Erskine's serum," he told you. "The one made by the U.S. Government. The one that they-- that Hydra-- used on me, it was similar, but not the same."

"It's the same one that was used on Jade," you said, understanding dawning on you.

Bucky nodded. "Not exact, but what's running through her veins evolved from what's runnin' through mine. And they never put her through cryo, she's never been wiped. She was conscious through everything they put her through, all the experiments, the tests... I was excited to think that there was someone I could talk to about it, who understood. Someone who could maybe help me fill in some of the blanks I still have. Answer the questions I've been too ashamed to ask Steve."

"Oh, Buck," you hummed, running your nails gently across his scalp, "Baby, why didn't you ever say anything?"

He arched into your touch. "Because you've already had to put up with enough of my shit," he said. "I didn't want to burden you with any more of it."

You stopped your scratching ministrations and looked at him. "Now listen here, Barnes," you began, your tone serious, "the last thing you could ever be to me is a burden. I have never met anyone who was funnier, kinder, braver, more selfless or caring than you. You're a fucking gift, Bucky. One that I am endlessly grateful for, everyday."

Bucky groaned. "Pocket, you can't just say things like that while you're sitting on my lap. I try to be a gentleman, but I've got my limits."

You laughed and leaned into him, resting your head against him. You picked up his right hand and began tracing his fingers with your own.

"If me talkin' to Jade makes you any kind of uncomfortable, doll, I promise I'll never speak to, or even look at, her again." He caught your eye and you could see the seriousness of his statement in them. You leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I'm never going to tell you who you can't be friends with, Buck," you told him with a sigh. "I admit that I don't love the idea of you spending one-on-one time with her alone or anything, but I'm also not going to stand in the way of you getting answers you need about your past. But you tell me the second she tries something," you warned. "Super soldier or not, she comes for my man, I'm gonna kick her fucking ass."

"You've got nothin' to worry about, darlin'. I told you, in seventy-five years, it's only been you. Seventy-five years more, it's still always only ever be you." His words made your heart swell in your chest and you leaned in to kiss him again. "Mm, but say that again," he told you.

"The part where I'm gonna kick her ass?" you asked with a smirk.

"No," he said, nipping at the sensitive skin at the pulse point on your neck, "the part where you called me your man."

You shifted so you could wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the soft hairs at the nape. You leaned in close so you could whisper in his ear: "You're my man, Bucky Barnes." A full shiver went through Bucky's body at your words and you relished in the effect you had over him. He ran his vibranium hand up under the back of your shirt, tracing gentle circles on the skin of your lower back.

"And you're always gonna be my girl, Pocket." His flesh hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the motion, combined with his words, so tender your breath hitched.

Something seemed to shift in that moment, the air growing thick and heady between you, as if you were both just realizing the new depth of your relationship for the first time.

"Bucky," you breathed, voice barely a whisper, eyes pleading.

He nodded and, placing one hand at the small of your back and the other under your knees and scooping you up as he stood. With the utmost care, he laid you down on the mattress of your bed and rested his body over yours, careful not to put too much of his weight on top of you.

"This feels different," he said as brushed your hair away from your face.

"Good different or bad different?" you asked, bringing your hands up to cup his face, the stubble scratching your palms.

"The very best different." He leaned down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was unlike any you'd shared before-- sweeter, more languid, as though you'd been forced to rush every previous kiss and you were both finally allowed to take your time. Bucky tasted like smoked whiskey as his tongue made leisurely sweeps across your mouth, eliciting a moan from you when he sucked on your bottom lip.

You could feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as you kissed, Bucky's flesh hand roaming up the soft skin of your side. He shifted, pressing more of his weight against you, as if he were desperate to be closer, and you could feel the hard press of his erection against your thigh.

You rocked your hips up against his pelvis, drawing a guttural moan from Bucky's throat. He pulled back, drawing himself up on his haunches. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shirt, teasing the edges as he looked up at you, silently asking you for permission. You nodded, sitting up and raising your hands over your head so he could slide your shirt off. As soon as it was free of your arms, Bucky tossed it aside and brought his lips to your shoulder, kissing his way across your collarbone.

Reaching down, you grabbed the hem of his Henley, slowly rolling it up over his abdomen, placing soft kisses on the hard lines of muscles it revealed. Once you'd fully divested him of his shirt, you let your hands roam the broad expanse of his chest, your lips and tongue trailing open-mouthed kisses across the raised pink scars at his mangled shoulder.

"You don't have to," he said, subtly pulling his shoulder back.

"Shush." You pulled him closer, continuing to kiss his puckered flesh. "I love every inch of you, Bucky. You're beautiful."

He pulled away from you, blue eyes boring into yours like he couldn't believe what he was seeing in front of him.

"How are you even real?" he asked, bringing your lips to his once again, his kisses growing more desperate. "I swear to God, Pocket, 'm gonna take you out, date you so fuckin' hard. Be the best goddamned boyfriend you've ever had."

He wanted to be your boyfriend. Not long ago, those words might have terrified you, but now, with the emotions you'd finally both let yourselves express, they thrilled you.

"You gonna take me to brunch, Barnes?" you teased, nipping at his skin as you rolled your hips up into his, your words coming out in gasps between the mewls of pleasure he was drawing from you. "We goin' to the farmer's market? Fuck--- Spend weekends at bed-n-breakfasts in Vermont?"

Bucky growled as he ground his hips down into yours, the length of his erection pressing down against your clothed clit and making you moan. "Sweetheart, I'll do anything you want. You wanna ride around the city on one of those tandem bicycles?" A dragging of his hips that had you arching your back. "I'm here for it. You wanna share a bowl of spaghetti like those dogs in that movie? I'm your man."

"Baby, I would never make you get on a tandem bike," you gasped, faux scandalized at the suggestion. "A swan paddle boat, maybe, but never a tandem bike. I respect you too much for that."

Bucky laughed as he buried into the crook of your neck. "I'd do it for you, anyway."

"That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," you told him with a smile.

"Oh, baby," he moaned, licking a stripe along the side of your neck that had you shivering, "We gotta fix that. I'm gonna romance the absolute shit out of you." He moved his mouth, placing kisses down your collar bone, between the valley of your breasts, and down your stomach. You bit your lip as his hands reached the waistband of your pants, his eyes looking up to meet yours as he slowly, so agonizingly slowly, began unbuttoning them.

"Ms. (Y/L/N), Sgt. Barnes," FRIDAY's voice echoed across the room. Bucky groaned and dropped his head on your pelvis at the interruption. "Mr. Stark requests your immediate return to the common room."

It was your turn to groan now as you threw your head back onto the pillow. "How much trouble do you think we'll be in if we just ignore it?" you asked him, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled as he leaned over to pick up your discarded shirts from the floor. "We don't go, he's libel to come barging in, and I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on Stark getting a load of my bare ass as I'm plowing balls-deep into his favorite little protégé," he said, winking at you as he pulled his Henley back over his head.

"Ew," you laughed, "everyone knows Parker's Tony's favorite little protégé these days. Thank you for that mental image."

Bucky shot you a sardonic look. "Arms, smartass," he said, indicating for you to lift your arms above your head so he could put your shirt back on you. "You got some mouth on you. I ever tell you how much I love it?"

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[sugar-grigri]

Do you feel Asa's been underutilized these last chapters? I trust in Fuji but he kinda skipped over a lot of interest developments for her (her fame, her arm, Denji's identity, even the alley to some extent)

Has Fujimoto really forgotten Asa? 

That's an interesting question, and I think you're not the only one who thinks so. It's a pretty legitimate criticism and I'm not here to deny those concerns. No one can predict whether Asa's character development and treatment will be up to scratch. Since it's an answer that's answered at the end of a work. 

I think so too, just in the realization of the feelings, I would have liked it to be a little more tortured and focused on that. You could say that since Fujimoto seems to be trying to set up a fairly dense scenario, that too much concentration on the sentimental and internal debates between the characters would break the rhythm. What I'd like to say is that, if this is Fujimoto's intention...

CSM has already suffered from a loss of rhythm.

Worse, this loss of pace was achieved by focusing on Denji's character.

Worse still, Fujimoto preferred to concentrate on Denji's malaise, putting Asa aside. 

I think it's important that Asa regains her role as protagonist. I know this may come as a shock, but despite my analysis, I sometimes get fed up with the focus on Denji. Even when I thought she'd be back in the light, when she was ready to save Denji, the focus was irrevocably on him when he woke up. I find that Denji's character takes up an enormous amount of space in relation to the treatment of the others, and that wasn't the case at all in Part 1. 

As much as Yoshida is written as a mystery, Asa is less so: she's a character built on the need to question her every action.

Does it really make sense for her to want to help Chainsaw Man? It's not at all, but it's treated as a logical consequence of CSM saving her. You're right, we don't exploit at all the fact that she has to mentally and emotionally unite her feelings for CSM and Denji when she learns who she is. It would have been super interesting to exploit the fact that it's a difficult exercise because she doesn't feel the same way about one as the other. 

As for the masturbation scene, I agree and disagree with the two opposing sides that analyze this scene. For me, given the narrative coherence of Asa's character and the way it's written, it should have been a tsunami. For me it's a sexual assault on Denji and Asa committed by Yoru, but it's also a destruction of the way Asa tries to protect her. Again, it could have been exciting to exploit that just as Asa influences Yoru with her feelings, Yoru influences Asa by putting her in danger and having an influence on her fear, not realizing the wounds that can be inflicted on her, whether physical (lost hand), or mental (this assault). But no, it's hidden. And that's where I agree with those who argue that it's """"consented"""". Not by saying it is. But for the fact that Fujimoto does treat this scene as it is, and decides to euphemize it so as not to dwell on it too much. It was the worst possible way to go, and I'm really disappointed. Not for deciding to make this scene. But for not exploiting it. 

I'm sorry, but it's really in the treatment of Asa's character that I don't have much hope and that I'm disappointed. At times, I even get the impression that Fujimoto wanted to exploit Denji's final love interest a little, developing her until she wanted to save him. And then it's good! We've got our saviour. 

I want Asa to be exploited just as much as I want Yoru to be exploited. Fami is separate, and so is death. They themselves are sources of mystery. But if Asa is a protagonist, so is Yoru. Or at least a deuteragonist. It might have been interesting to exploit the pov of a knight of the apocalypse. Exploiting and developing this hatred for CSM, the affectation of feelings that can make this hatred more passionate. But again, nothing. 

I'm not saying that Denji's arc didn't add anything. All my analyses are here to explain how it differs from what has been said. Did it have to be done by focusing massively on Denji? Without any variation in points of view? Seriously, I know Fujimoto can do it. He just decided not to.

So the result is that I'm raging for Asa. And I'll eat my fist if I see that Yoshida isn't coming back and is still underused. 

Worse, Denji's character is getting on my nerves. 

There, that was salty grigri.