#there’s a new You Rule You Suck board

[raeofgayshine]

Thinking again about the fact that when Eddie and Dustin finally convince Steve to play DnD with the party, all of them, but especially Eddie, quickly become exasperated with Steve who has extremely high charisma, and decides that he can fix almost any situation by flirting with whoever they were in conflict with. Especially the fucking monsters, this man is bound and determined to himself a monster boyfriend and until it happens, he will make every single person they come across fall in love with him. So naturally, this happens a lot:

Steve: I’m going to flirt with them

Eddie, exasperated: Steve, you can’t date this monster, he’s trying to kill you-

Steve: Hot.

Steve: I’ll flirt with them harder then

[ebodebo]

Hot For Teacher!

—professor!simon riley teaching anatomy… MDNI

(DISCLAIMER: in this fic, the reader is getting their master's, so reader is an adult! that said, this is still a student-professor relationship, so beware!)

"I heard he was from Germany….or somewhere."

"He's probably sooo old."

"I can't find his rate my professor anywhere!"

"I heard he only has one leg!"

Murmurs can be heard spread around the room; your fellow graduates flooded the lecture hall seats, not an empty seat out of fifty in site. They were itching with anticipation and anxiously awaiting the arrival of your new gross anatomy professor, including yourself.

You were even more nervous than when you had to present your senior thesis for your bachelor's to four of the most knowledgeable, bright minds you had ever come into contact with.

That was intimidating, but this somehow feels worse. You find yourself sinking into the squeaky plastic chair, praying that whoever walks through that door is as gracious and kind as your last professor.

Heavy steps echoed down the hallway, slowly and steadily etching closer and closer to the room you sat in. Your eyes nervously shifted up to look at the wide open front door, and you tapped your foot, restlessly, to a non-existent beat in your head.

The footsteps became louder and louder until the man finally stood in the doorway, sparing the class not even a singular glance. He steadily turned to the right and walked up to the chalkboard, back towards the class, carefully etching something onto the board with a small piece of chalk.

The murmurs around the room seized as the screeching noise of the chalk against the board bounced off the walls and went straight into everyone's eardrums.

It was a quick, illegible scribble.

He set the piece of chalk down and turned to face the class, eyes roaming around the room, allowing you to get a better look at him.

He wore a black surgical mask just below his nose, covering his lips and jaw. And, God, was he tall. He had to be at least six-two, maybe even six-four. He wore a charcoal gray button-up tight enough to display his broad shoulders and buff biceps, with kaki cargo pants that did nothing to hide his thick thighs. 

Fuck, he was hot.

"Your last professor was quite lenient," his gravelly voice echoes around the room as he begins, leaning his hip on the table before him. "Don't expect that from me."

His eyes roamed some more, and the murmurs you heard about how hot he was seized as he spoke again. "If you think this class will be easy, you're sorely mistaken. Excellence is the bare minimum I expect from each of you," he sternly says. "I don't tolerate excuses. You're in the wrong place if you can't meet the deadlines."

You didn't know the first time meeting your professor would just end up with him lecturing you about his obscure conditions and rules like this was a damn military base.

You try to remember if this course was even required for your degree: it is.

"If you miss class, don't bother returning," he continues. The mood in the room had shifted entirely. There was no excitement left; it had been completely sucked out and replaced by regret and anguish. You swore you even saw some people with their computers quickly going to your university's directory, hoping they could still withdraw from a course.

"Lastly, mediocrity has no place in here. Push yourselves or find another course," he gruffed, pushing himself off the desk he leaned on and maneuvering back over to the chalkboard.

"What are the instructions on the board?" Your eyes snapped to a random girl raising her hand adjacent to you, and you were surprised by her bravery in speaking.

The professor glanced at the girl.

“Ah, yes. These are instructions on how to withdraw from this course if you so choose," he said. "Save me the headache and you, your dignity, and withdraw now if you cannot abide by my terms," he almost seemed disinterested. "Also, you will call me Dr. Riley."

He picked up the chalk, quickly etching a strand of words onto it. "These are my office hours," he says, setting the chalk back down. "Any questions?" He asked, turning to face the class.

Not a single peep can be heard. There was only a tiny squeak from one of the chairs. He crosses his arms. "Alright. Quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed," he concludes. You freeze up in your chair as everyone around you starts moving as quickly as possible to get out of there.

You're wondering what you learned today that could be material for a quiz. Instead of waiting behind to ask, you shuffle your things in a bag and speed walk out of there.

This was going to be a long semester.

It was three months in, and this class was kicking your ass. 

No, that's not right. The class was outwardly blistering your entire existence. You pulled countless all-nighters to try and keep up with the material, but it was too much. There weren't enough hours in the day to study the copious amount of material.

It didn't help that Dr. Riley was a bit of a dick. He gave no leniency. Can't make the exam? Too bad. F. Didn't make class? Yikes. Get ready to recite the last lecture in front of the class when you return! Can't answer a question he asks? Well, well, it looks like we have a slacker on our hands. Have a lovely time writing an entire essay on the topic question you failed to answer!

"Can anyone explain the process of bone repair following a fracture?" Dr. Riley questions, taking his eyes off the chalkboard and turning towards the now half-full class. You snap out of your daydream, carefully looking back to your computer to continue typing what he writes.

Everyone averts their eyes from him to avoid getting called on. "No takers?" He asks once more, eyes narrowing slightly. You look over the top of your computer, eyes wondering over the messy array of notes he wrote to try and decipher them. "You," he says, flicking a finger towards you. "Give it a go."

Your eyes flick to his before widening in horror. Shit. You hadn't even gone over this week's slides because you were still working on the hundreds of slides from last week. 

"Preferably today," he raises a brow, impatience written all over his face, crossing his arm over his chest. You take a deep breath, quickly scan your notes, and sublimely thank God you found what you needed.

"Well, first the bone goes through clot formation, then callus formation, then new bone tissue forms, then finally the bone remodels," you explain, issuing a polite smile after you finish, breathing out a sigh of relief as he nods.

"Uh-huh. It's a very interesting process. And do you know which of those processes has the longest duration?" He says blandly. You tilt your head a little, surprised to see he has another question.

"Well, I think that would be the bone remodeling," you affirm, shifting in your seat a little.

"And the shortest?" He quickly supplements. 

"Clot formation?" You say unsurely. 

"You seem unsure of your answer. Do you truly think it is clot formation?" He crosses his arms over his chest. 

You were sure of it, but then again, why would he ask you if you thought it was wrong if it was right? You open your eyes wider, almost like you have just had an epiphany. "I—no. It's callus formation," you say matter-of-factly.

"Incorrect," he says, uncrossing his arms and turning his back to you. "I suggest trusting your instincts next time." You sink deeper into your chair, hoping that somehow it will shield you from his scrutiny. 

"On that note, class dismissed." You quickly gather your belongings, but not before Dr. Riley pulls you aside to assign you a three-page, single-spaced essay about the formation of a bone after having a fracture due in two days.

"Also, be sure to discuss clot formation heavily," his voice carries a condescending tone. "So that when you present to the class, they understand the concept better than you did." 

Your brows furrow a little. "Wait, I do understand—" You begin, though he interrupts.

"That's all," he cooly says, turning to grab his things from the desk in the front before switching the light switch off and stepping around you to leave the room. "See you and your paper Wednesday." You scowled as he turned away from you to go to his office.

This was such bullshit. You answered all his question, but God forbid you answer one incorrectly—well, not even incorrectly; he just made you feel it was wrong.

This was far from over.

"Dr. Riley. I, um, I don't understand why I have to write an essay," you found yourself saying later that day in his office, around six p.m. or so, when most of the faculty had already called it a night and left. His eyes stayed laser-focused on some papers he was going over.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, scribbling something on the paper. 

You find yourself coming in, shutting the door behind you, and sitting on the chair before his desk. "Yes, I did. I answered all one hundred of them," you say matter-of-factly. The corners of his eyes crinkle as they finally flick to yours, clearly amused by your exaggeration. 

"One hundred, huh?" He sets the pen down, leaning back in his chair, threading his fingers together. Your eyes wander to his arms. He had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms covered in tattoos. 

You flick your eyes back to eyes in a panic, praying he didn't notice you essentially checking him out. "Yes, sir," you tried to keep your voice even.

"So, you want out of an essay I assigned to you? 

"I—well. I was hoping…" You trail off, eyes averting his.

"No," his tone is authoritative, final. You release a small breath, sagging into the chair, feeling defeated. However, you caught your eyes wandering back to his forearms before moving up to his biceps. Fuck. They would have busted out of his button-down if they were any bigger.

He was a massive��asshole. But, so fucking hot nonetheless. Had the most enormous thighs and arms you'd ever seen. Taller than anyone you'd ever met. Had a gruff, thick English accent you drooled over. Not to mention his raging ego, which did something for you.

"What is it?" Your eyes snap to his. Oh, God. Not again. 

"Nothing," you said quickly. He looked puzzled. You sat back in the chair, smiling awkwardly. He followed, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs wider to get more comfortable.

You find your eyes drifting down, observing his clothed cock in his pants. "Nothing? Huh?" The corner of his lip quirks. You stare back at him; your face is hot, and your hands are clammy.

This time, there was no denying what it was you were ogling so intently. 

"Listen," he sits up a bit, placing his elbows on his desk and threading his fingers together. "I sympathize with your situation." You raise a brow because there is no way in hell he was sympathetic. His lip quips at your expression. "So, I believe I have a solution to your dilemma." That has you perking up in your seat, feeling a sense of hope.

"It's a bit...unorthodox," he mumbles, eyes boring into yours.

You squint your eyes in confusion. "Okay..." You trail off uneasily, sitting up a little straighter. "What did you have in mind?" He tilts his head up a little, carefully observing your face, before standing up and gripping the knot of the tie and carefully pulling it down so it rests lazily on his sternum. 

"Tell me," he prompts, easing his way around his desk to lean against the side you sit in front of. "What is it that caught your attention earlier?" You raise a brow, not only at his new position but also at his question.

"Pardon?" You prod. He lets out a small, scruffy, breathy laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and showcasing his huge biceps again. You release a slight breath as your eyes wander back to his arms. He tilts his head back as he examines your facial expression, dragging his eyes down your line of sight. He gives a breathy laugh as he realizes you are shamelessly checking him out. 

"Mhm," he hums. You snap your eyes to him in an instant, though this time you aren't embarrassed at the notion of him catching you. No. You wanted him to notice. Maybe, just maybe, then he'd finally find the courage to fuck you over his desk like you'd wanted since the first day he had arrived. "Your mind seems elsewhere," he observes.

"No, I'm—I'm just thinking," you whir, sitting in your chair.

He tilts his head back slightly. "What about?" His tone dripped with condescendence. He most definitely knew. He could read you like one of those fancy anatomy books he frequented. You lean back in your chair, legs spreading ever so slightly. His eyes glided to leer at your slightly agape legs. 

God, you had on that little fucking skirt you wore every so often. The damned thing was a couple of pieces of denim fabric. Not too short, but, ya, if you opened your legs at just the right angle, you could get a nice shot of your panties underneath. How lucky for your professor, who was at the receiving end of that.

"Oh, I don't know. Just things, you know?" You spread your legs just a little wider, and you swear you hear him release a breath. "It's the first day of fall tomorrow. Did you know that?" You casually say, spreading your legs that much further so he could get a better view of the wet spot already growing in your panties at him watching you. 

"I did." His voice was dry; he was surprised to get a damn word out. 

"Crazy, huh? Also, I'm thinking about our lecture tomorrow. What's it going to be on anyway?" You find yourself dragging your hand up your leg to the buttons of your shirt, carefully unclasping each of them gently. He could feel his cock straining against his jeans seeing you, legs spread, fingers fiddling with your cute little button-up top with frilly sleeves.

"Sexual reproduction," he gruffs, fingers moving to undo the buttons on his shirt. You get the final button of your shirt unclasped, carefully sliding it off and onto the floor, revealing a lacy bra that matches your panties. You honestly thought you'd be more nervous, but with a guy that hot and educated staring at you like you were the sexiest thing alive, how could you be?

"Maybe I should get a head-start, no?" You proposed as he unclasped his final button, slipping his shirt entirely off. Good-God. The man was chiseled and hairy. The scars etched into his skin only made him that much sexier. He reached for his tie next. "No, no. Leave it on," you voice, getting up from your chair to stand before him. 

His greedy hands instantly sought refuge on your waist, dragging his fingertips along the waistband of your panties, giving them a little pull. You release a slight whine as the elastic slaps back onto your skin.

"Like fuckin' music to my ears," he groans, pulling you flush to his body, ripping his mask off to encapsulate your lips with his hungry ones. 

You yelp into his mouth at the sudden sensation, though you find yourself getting into a rough rhythm. His hand's paw at your ass as yours covetously grips his shoulders. Although you were flush against him, you sought more contact. "I need—I need," you whined in his mouth. 

"Need me to what? Say it," he urged, hands slipping to thread through your hair, pulling it gently. Your mouth falls agape at the action, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. You moan into his mouth once more.

"I need you to—to," you stutter, unable to speak from how out of breathe you were.

"Say it," he hissed, pulling your hair harder.

"Fuck me. Please," you finally managed to say. He wasted no time picking you up by the back of the thighs and hastily placing you on his desk, flinging the loose papers and books that dawned it on the floor.

You reached between you to undo his belt and pant button as he slipped your panties down so they dangled loosely around your ankles. 

Your lips never disconnecting once. 

Once you got his pants undown and he your panties, he gripped your waist, hoisting you so he could pound his cock into you. You both moan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck," he groans, "Feel so good." You press your lips back to his as he makes work pummeling into you, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips to get as much friction as he can.

You were sure you'd have purple and blue bruises tomorrow.

He brings his mouth to nip and kiss at the side of your neck, his teeth gently grazing against the sensitive skin. "Drivin' me fuckin' insane," he grits, teeth nipping your skin again. You whined, bringing your hands to thread through his hair.

"I drive you insane?" You breathe out, dumbfounded, his cock still sliding in and out of you at a hurried pace. His tongue brushes your neck until it reaches your lips, quickly bullying itself into the sanctity of your mouth.

"Such a good student. Aren't you?" He gruffs into your lips; your mouth hangs agape at the feeling of him in you. "Always do such good work. Don't you, sweetheart?" You moan at his words; he presses a thumb to stimulate your clit. "Fuck—you, you drive me mad," he grits, moving his thumb faster.

You let a string of incoherent words, too caught up with his cock in you and thumb on you to form any real words.

"Huh? Ya, ya. But you must know that already. Or else you wouldn't have worn this—" he signals to the matching bra and panty set you had worn, "to meet with me," he finishes. You respond with another pathetic whimper, feeling your impending climax.

The moment he whispers into the shell of your ear, "Better come quick, or I may change my mind about that paper," you're a goner. You clamp around him at record speed, gripping his shoulders impossibly tighter, as you loudly moan in his mouth. His fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips as his orgasm chases yours.

It takes both of you a second to catch your breaths, both heaving and chests rising with much pace. After you have caught your breath, he helps ease you off his desk, deftly reaching for your panties that slipped off your ankles in a frenzy and softly putting them back on you, followed by your skirt resting on the floor nearby.

You slipped your shirt back on, buttoning it as he focused on dressing himself. It didn't feel awkward like you had thought it was going to. Sure, it was quiet, but it was comforting.

You grabbed your bookbag, giving him a slight smile as you walked over to the closed door. "I appreciate you meeting with me. See you tomorrow, Dr. Riley," you kindly say.

He nodded, pulling his tie to rest neatly on his neck. "Don't forget about the paper," he plainly said, moving to pick up some of the loose papers on the floor.

A confused expression overtook your face. "I thought—" you began.

"I don't play favorites, sweetheart," he interrupted. "Write the paper."

Okay, he was still a dick, but oh well, sure, you'd write the damn paper, maybe even put a couple of errors in it so that he could deduct some points off, and you could request to meet with him again.

Ya, that sounded like a fine plan indeed.

a/n: inspired by a lovely who commented on my poll about professor!simon <33 @aiqsa (this took me so long omg)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

General Strike 2028

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/11/rip-jane-mcalevey/#organize

Trump is a scab.

https://www.democracynow.org/2024/9/2/shawn_fain_2024_election

Trump is a scab and the Dems need unions. While working class votes were all over the place – lotsa turkeys voting for Christmas – union voters voted against Trump with near-unanimity.

Trump is a scab, the Dems need unions, and the Dems are not faithful friends to unions. Harris campaign advisor – her brother-in-law Tony West – is Uber's chief legal officer and the architect of Prop 22, California's scab law that formalized "gig work" labor violations. The fact that when the eminently guillotineable union-buster Howard Schultz tries to win a presidential nomination he does so in the Democratic party speaks volumes. If your political party has room for Michael Bloomberg, it doesn't have room for workers. Seriously, fuck that guy.

Trump is a scab, the Dems need unions, Dems are not faithful friends to unions, and unions keep the Dems honest. The #RedForEd teachers' strikes of 2018 kicked off a wave of public support for unions – and worker interest in unionization – that has only grown in the years since:

https://theweek.com/articles/764828/teacher-strikes-could-future-alt-labor

Trump is a scab, Dems need unions, Dems are not faithful to unions, unions make the Dems better, workers want unions, the public loves unions, and union membership is falling.

It's falling! This one is on the union leadership. Unions are sitting on gigantic warchests that they are resolutely not spending organizing the workers who are clamoring to join unions:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/ten-times-this

Unions have historic high cash reserves and are doing historically low organizing. This part is the unions' fault:

https://www.radishresearch.org/_files/ugd/2357dd_135794f88aa140f2962ee5c71ac31ff0.pdf

Or rather, it's the union bosses' fault. Union leadership in America, broadly speaking, sucks. Bosses love shitty unions, and the biggest unions obliged bosses for decades, with leaders who established suicidal practices like "two-tier contracts." That's a union where all the workers have to pay dues, but only the senior workers get protection from the union those dues fund:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/20/a-common-foe/#the-multinational-playbook

If you sat down and said, "Let's design a union contract that will ensure that every worker hired from this day forward hates unions," this is the contract you'd come up with.

Those shitty union bosses? They're on the way out. In 2023, the UAW held its first honest elections for generations, and radicals, led by Shawn Fain, swept the board. How did workers win their union back? They unionized more workers! Specifically, the UAW organized the brutally exploited Harvard grad students, and the Harvard kids memorized the union by-laws, and every time the corrupt old guard tried the steal the leadership election, one or another of them popped to their feet, reciting chapter-and-verse from the union's own rules and keeping the vote going:

https://theintercept.com/2023/04/07/deconstructed-union-dhl-teamsters-uaw/

Fain led the UAW to an historic strike: the UAW took on all three of the Big Three automakers, and cleaned their clocks. UAW workers walked away with three new contracts, all set to expire in 2028. Fain then called upon every union to bargain for contracts that run out in 2028, because if every union contract expires in 2028, we've got the makings of a general strike.

That means that when the next presidential election rolls around, it's going to be in the middle of the most militant moment in a century of US labor history. That is an opportunity.

Labor movements fight fascists. They always have. Trump and the GOP are not on the side of workers, notwithstanding all that bullshit about supporting workers by fighting immigration. Sure, when the number of workers goes up, wages can go down – if you're not in a union. Conservatives have never supported unions. They hate solidarity. Conservatives want workers to believe that they can get paid more if labor is scarcer, and there's some truth to that, but solidarity endures in good times and bad, and scarcity ends any time bosses figure out how to offshore, outsource, or automate your job. Scarcity is brittle.

"Law-and-order" candidates want to throw millions of our neighbors in jail. By the way, the 13th Amendment abolished slavery, except for prisoners. American imprisons more people than any other country in the history of the world. We make Stalin's gulags and Chinese Cultural Revolution "re-education camps" look unambitious. American prisoners produce $9b worth of services and $2b worth of goods every year. The average US prison wage is $0.53/hour, but six states ban prison wages altogether and North Carolina caps them at $1/day:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

If you think immigrants are bad for American workers' wages, wait'll you see what legions of newly imprisoned slave laborers earning $0.53/hour do to those wages. Also: Californians just voted down a ballot measure to abolish prison slavery:

https://www.kqed.org/news/12013392/californians-voted-against-outlawing-slavery-why-is-prop-6-failing

The GOP are not on workers' side, and workers will not earn more under Trump's policies. Workers will earn more if they join a union, which they will only do if union leaders focus on organizing, which will only happen if we get rid of shitty union bosses. Start with this asshole, who belongs on the scrapheap of history:

https://www.npr.org/2024/07/16/nx-s1-5041345/teamsters-president-sean-obrien-addresses-the-republican-national-convention

With the GOP running the country for the next four years, it's tempting to look for hope in social movements. Maybe Trump will be so terrible that people will band together in informal solidarity networks and #Resist. History teaches us otherwise. The people who need the most help under Trump will be too embroiled in the fight for their own survival to put together the kind of movement that can make a difference.

As Astra Taylor reminded us on the Know Your Enemy podcast, Occupy and Black Lives Matter formed under Obama, when things were eleven kinds of fucked up, but at least ICE wasn't raiding our neighbors' homes:

https://know-your-enemy-1682b684.simplecast.com/episodes/voting-what-is-it-good-for-w-astra-taylor-olufmi-taiwo-malcolm-harris-teaser

Occupy and BLM arose in a moment when people had just enough breathing room to think beyond their immediate survival. Even deeply flawed progressive administrations provide that breathing room.

By contrast, the #RedForEd teachers' strikes were a creature of the Trump years. Even if social movements struggle to find their power under authoritarian, far-right regimes, these are the conditions in which organized labor movements are renewed:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/to-unfuck-politics-create-more-union

Trump won the election because white men, especially young white men, voted for him, but he couldn't have done it without the votes of white women, and Black and Latino men. These voters may even conceive of themselves as being in favor of women's rights and of the rights of racial minorities, but they still voted for Trump, because some facet of their identity - their maleness, their whiteness - mattered more to them than everything else.

Bosses have always excelled at this game, bringing in Irish scabs to break strikes of German workers, or Polish scabs to break Irish workers' pickets. The Pinkertons relied on Black workers who were excluded from the lily white unions.

Our identities are complex and ever-shifting, and men who worry that women's power comes at their own expense, or whites who worry that this is true of Black and Latino power aren't entirely wrong. As the saying goes, "When you're accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression."

But there's one part of your identity that is inherently solidaristic: whether you are a worker or an owner. If you own the business, you make more money when your workers earn less. If you work at the business, every dollar you earn is a dollar your boss doesn't get. Workers' gains are bosses' losses.

That's why they want us to "vote with our wallets." It's not just that those votes are rigged for the people with the fattest wallets. By tricking you into thinking of yourself as a "consumer" who benefits from low prices, they get you to stop thinking of yourself as a worker who suffers from low wages.

This remains true even after decades of "market based pensions" that forced workers to flush their savings into the stock market casino, to be the perennial suckers at the table in a game where their bosses had an unbeatable house advantage:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

Even after generations of this, the share of the stock market owned by workers is a negligible crumb. This is how GDP can rise, the stock market can surge, and you stay poor. Workers' fortunes don't rise and fall with the stock market. They're not owners.

You're a worker even if you're well-paid. Tech workers are just figuring this out, after a generation-long con in which bosses convinced techies that they were temporarily embarrassed entrepreneurs who definitely didn't need a union:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#sell-job

Tech workers' power came from scarcity, and scarcity is brittle. Tech fired 260,000 workers in 2023, and another 100,000 in the first six months of 2024. Tech bosses have smashed their workers' power, and we know what comes next.

We know what comes next because we know how tech bosses treat workers they can replace. Amazon warehouse workers piss in bottles and get maimed on the job at a rate that outstrips any other warehouse worker in America. Jeff Bezos and Andy Jassy didn't welcome coders with pink mohawks, facial piercings and black t-shirts with incomprehensible slogans because they liked tech workers and hated warehouse workers. Amazon coders owed the privilege to pee whenever they felt like it to their bosses' fear that they couldn't be replaced. Now that coders are replaceable, their kidneys are on the firing line.

"The future is here, it's just not evenly distributed." If you want to see the future of a replaceable Amazon coder, look at the working conditions of a replaceable Amazon delivery driver, monitored by a fucking AI that punishes them if they open their mouths while driving:

https://jalopnik.com/amazon-bans-its-drivers-from-moving-their-own-lips-too-1851639312

Remember lovely Tim Cook, the guy who took over Apple from its sainted juice-cleansing cofounder Steve Jobs? Cook's accomplishment, the one that earned him the CEOship and a personal net worth in excess of $2 billion, was to figure out how to offshore Apple's production to Chinese factories where the working conditions were so terrible that they needed to install suicide nets to catch workers who couldn't face another minute on the job:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/jun/18/foxconn-life-death-forbidden-city-longhua-suicide-apple-iphone-brian-merchant-one-device-extract

That's how Tim Cook treats workers he's not afraid of. Apple workers, no matter how well paid, no matter how pampered, need a union, because the instant Tim Cook can treat you like a Chinese iPhone assembly-line worker, he will.

Tim Cook had some choice words for Donald Trump this week:

Congratulations President Trump on your victory! We look forward to engaging with you and your administration to help make sure the United States continues to lead with and be fueled by ingenuity, innovation, and creativity.

It wasn't just Cook. Every tech boss lined up to kiss Trump's ass: Bezos ("Wishing @realDonaldTrump all success"); Zuck ("Looking forward to working with you"); Pichai ("We are in a golden age of American innovation"); Nadella ("Congratulations President Trump"):

https://daringfireball.net/2024/11/i_wonder

You don't just deserve a tech union, you need one, now:

https://abookapart.com/products/you-deserve-a-tech-union.html

Organizing a 2028 general strike under Trump won't be easy. Workers won't be able to secure support from the courts or the NLRB, whose brilliant Biden-era leadership team is surely doomed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

But the NLRB only exists today because workers established unions when doing so was radioactively illegal and union organizers were beaten, jailed and murdered with impunity. The tactics those organizers used are not lost to the mists of time – they are a tradition that lives on to this day.

The standard-bearer for this older, militant, community-based union organizing was the great Jane McAlevey (rest in power). McAlevey ran organizing and strike drives as mass-movements; she wouldn't call for either without being sure of massive majorities, 70%-95%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

McAlevey understood union organizing as a source of worker power, but also as a source of community power. When she helped organize the LA #RedForEd Teachers' strike, the teachers didn't just demand better working conditions for themselves, but also green space for their students, and protection from ICE raids for their students' parents. They did this under Trump, and built a turnout organization that flipped key seats and delivered a House majority to the Democrats in 2020.

In her work, McAlevey excoriated the kind of shittyass Dem power-brokers who just lost an election to a convicted felon and rapist, condemning their technocratic conceit that the path to electoral victory was in winning over precisely 50.1% of the vote in each tactically significant precinct. McAlevey said that's how you get the nightmarish Manchin-Synematic Universe where Dems can't deliver and workers don't vote for Dems. To transform America, we need the kinds of majorities that McAlevey and her fellow organizers won in those strike votes – majorities that produced durable, anti-fascist power that turned into electoral victories, too.

McAlevey died last summer. But she left behind a legion of people she taught and inspired, and a playbook we all can follow:

https://jacobin.com/2024/07/jane-mcalevey-strategy-organizing-obituary

We've got four years. Join a union. Take over its leadership. Create solidarity with your fellow workers and your community. Bargain for a contract. Make it expire in 2028. Get ready.

Because in 2028, we're having a general strike.

[razrbladekiss]

HITS DIFFERENT | Chapter One - Summer Bummer

A/N: i’ve never written for mr. miller before, so i’m super nervous for how this’ll be received by everyone…but i enjoyed conjuring this up, and i hope you guys find it not-all bad! any feedback is welcome. i looove getting asks and anons. <3

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

PAIRING: no outbreak, single dad!joel x afab!reader (age gap relationship, joel is in his late forties, reader is mid-twenties.) strictly no use of y/n.

SUMMARY: your neighborly duties begin to stretch farther than simply offering a greeting whenever you and joel cross paths. after he recently becomes a single parent, you take it upon yourself to assist mr. miller in this new, completely terrifying endeavour.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. angst. tiny bit of fucking on the first date (that isn’t anything reminiscent of a date LOL), fingering, finger sucking, joel being a dirty old man, unprotected piv sex. it’s kinda cute kinda cunty. i’ll leave you guys to decide what you think.

MASTERLIST

He’s the very last person that you’d be asking for help today, and he knows that. Joel knows that you’d rather claw your own eyes out, or rip your flesh away from bone and heave it in the fucking dumpster at the end of the street, than knock at his door and request his assistance. 

He’s the cranky guy that lives across the way. The guy that, really, you know very little about aside from the fact that he has an attitude problem, a daughter, and his partner doesn’t seem to show her face all that often anymore. 

You’d heard—from your busybody neighbor, Clare in No.13–that Joel’s wife had left for a younger, more attractive man from Tennessee. And though you hate to pry, and aren’t very nosy, you can’t help thinking about it the more you see Joel leave the house without the woman that was once fastened to his hip. 

Maybe that’s why he’s been so miserable lately. 

Ugh. You hate to call on him. But you’re desperate. It’s hot—like, the flaming crevices of hell are fighting to burst open the sidewalk outside of your house hot—and you’re dying. You’re sweating from places that you didn’t even know could sweat, and it’s disgusting. 

You step onto his front porch—donning a knee-length sundress and a pair of chunky sandals—and wipe moisture away from your forehead as it beads against your skin, using the back of your arm to do so. 

Joel’s house is significantly more drab than your own. It boasts the same stoney exterior as yours, and ivy flows over the eavestrough above the front door, only it's a little unkempt. And while your humble abode has so much curb appeal, the entire HOA board is actually envious, Joel’s man cave…doesn’t. It has a porch swing, a trough planter full of random succulents, a couple of Texas flags, and a door mat that simply reads “Fuck off.” Which is against the rules, you often remind him. 

But Joel doesn’t care. About anything. And that’s why you can’t find it in yourself to even try to get along with him. Not because of the doormat—you don’t care about that—but because he’s always so mean. To your neighbors, to the mailman, to anyone that sets foot on his property. 

To you.

It isn’t all the time, but you catch it every so often. The way Joel looks you up and down when you’re chatting with Mrs. Kavanagh over the fence on a Sunday afternoon about your week. How he always makes snide comments about the way you drive like a mad woman, or when you offer a friendly ‘hey’ to him each morning when you cross one another’s paths before work. 

You don’t recall a time where you pissed Joel off to the point of blatant ignorance, but you did. And though Tommy believes that the reason for his brother’s more rash behavior is the fact that he might have a crush on you, you feel otherwise. Because Joel is so rude—so crass, on occasion—and nothing about that screams “I want to fuck you.”

Or maybe it does and you’re just oblivious. But regardless, Joel is renowned—street-wide—for being a miserable old grouch. 

You can’t figure him out. And you’re not entirely sure that you want to, either. 

However, he’s the only man on this street handy enough to fix your A/C unit. 

So you press the buzzer—minding you don’t tread on a pair of worn-out work boots that are lazily placed beside the front door—and wait for your miserable neighbor to grumble and groan, when he catches sight of you through the glass. 

You smile when you see some of his daughter’s toys scattered across the wood beneath the swing. You don’t even know her name, that’s how little knowledge you have of the man that’s lived across the street from you for the past year and a half. 

Joel swings open the door, a cigarette pinched between his lips, and a rag over his shoulder. His sweat-slick torso glistens beneath the Austin sun, pecks slightly muddied with oil and whatever other substances that he’s working with, while his shirt is wrapped around his waist. 

He exhales smoke around the stick, swiftly taking it into his left hand. His right comes up—with the rag—to rub at his face. 

“What?” He rasps out. 

It kills you to admit that you think that Joel is attractive—in an unconventional, dirty old-man kinda way—but, fuck. He’s rugged, and rough, and his body looks so inviting. You hate yourself for staring at him like this. 

But you’re only human. Right? And the way he speaks to you, most certainly cancels out any physical attraction that you may have. Right? Right?

“Good Morning to you too, Miller.” Bitchy, you retort. “I just came over to ask if you’re willing to help me fix my A/C unit, but I see that you’re busy being a cunt—“

He laughs, flicking cigarette ash to the ground. Joel leans against his doorframe, watching you, watching him. 

“Your language is vile, little lady.” 

You hate when he calls you that. It’s so patronizing. It’s also one of the only times that Joel addresses you with actual words and not just a glare, or a groan.  

“I don’t care.” Trying your hand at being just as blunt as him, you say. “I just need cool air in my house because the three fans, several wet towels, and kiddie pool in my backyard just aren’t cutting it anymore, and I think I’ll die if I have to put up with the heat any longer—“

He holds a hand up, begging you to shut your mouth. 

“Fine.” He capitulates and you just blink at him, not being able to believe that he’s agreeing to help you with minimal begging and not even needing a bribe.

Because the last time you trudged over to his house in the downpour—soaked all the way through to your bra—and asked if he could do anything about the water leaking through your bedroom window, Joel billed you for your time. 

And when Clare needed her lawn mowed because her husband was out of town and she’d dislocated her shoulder, Joel sent an invoice through the door for his forty-seven minutes work. 

But you try to forget all of that. Because he’s helping you from the ‘goodness’ of his own heart. 

“Thanks.” You reply, watching him shirk the cotton from his shoulder. “I know you don’t really want to help, but I’m grateful—“

He waves you off when he shrugs the tank over his head, the material immediately sticking to his damp chest. Your eyes linger over his form for a few seconds while you fiddle with the keys between your fingers, not being able to tell if Joel is being charitable, or just trying to get you to stop complaining about the fucking weather. 

But you don’t mind. Because when he works his magic, you’ll be able to able to relax in your own living space, and sleep peacefully without worrying about waking in a ravine of your own sweat. 

“I don’t have cash, but I’ve got beer in the fridge—“

“I don’t want your booze.” He says while closing the front door. Joel traipses past you on the steps, padding toward the open garage. 

You watch him grab a box of tools, wondering how that one man acquired every single skill beneath the sun—well, all but the art of being able to properly communicate with his fucking neighbors—and offer a hand because the thing looks heavy. He waves you off—again—and you nod. 

“Well, then what do you want?”

“Nothin’.” He says honestly. “Gotta start showin’ all you people that I’m not just some haggard old man, and can actually help every once in a while.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, you feel bad. Awful, actually. 

Had he recently become privy to the fact that everybody knew of his business? Because—try as you might to avoid the buzz—it was difficult, living on such a tight street. And the trials and tribulations of each individual living on Bluebell Drive are always public knowledge, at some point. 

It only took five days for the neighbors to find out when your last relationship fizzled out, and only seven for them to know how and why it ended. 

“We don’t all think you’re haggard.” You say, trying to lighten the mood. You see Joel’s back muscles contract as he pulls the garage door closed, and then turns back to face you with a look that resembles an emotion that you aren’t familiar with. 

“Just old?”

He starts to chuckle after a few seconds, and so do you—once you realize that he’s joking. You’re a bit more comfortable, now. Your attempt to diffuse the sudden thorny tension has worked, and Joel is starting to see that you’re not that bad. 

“I don’t think you look old.” Honestly, you tell him. You begin to walk onto the street, holding tightly the hem of your dress as a gust of wind threatens to blow it up to your waist. “How old are you, Joel? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all.” He follows you onto the path, watching the white linen lift as another gust flits over—showing just the slightest bit of pink lace against pert skin—and smiles. “I’m forty-nine. Never really cared about gettin’ older, but it’s harder with a little one.”

“How old is your little girl?”

“She’s about to turn one.” Joel says—almost gushing with pride. He pads along the pavement and toward the pathway, watching his footing because there’s so many plants and flowers that scatter the sidewalk outside of your house, and he knows that he won’t hear the end of it if he crushes one of them this morning. “She’s a handful, but she’s worth it.”

The way he speaks about his baby is enough to make you see that there is a heart beneath such a tough exterior. There’s something so vulnerable—so candid—about the way he speaks about her. It’s refreshing. 

“Does she spend much time with anyone else?”

“My brother.” He tells you. “Yeah, Tommy and his girlfriend have taken her out this mornin’ actually. To some petting zoo, I think.”

“That’s so sweet.” Truthfully, you say. You’ve never seen Joel so at peace, and you wonder why you ever hated him in the first place. 

He’s a tough nut to crack—that’s always been a given—but perhaps he’s not as hard-faced and complicated as you once thought that he might’ve been. 

“It is.” He replies. Joel follows you through the front of your very well-to-do home—wondering why he can’t seem to keep such a tidy place—and admires how much pride you take in your living space. 

Everything—from the crown molding, to the baseboards—is in a more than pristine condition, and your floor is so clean Joel swears he could eat his dinner off of it. 

“I bet it’s hard to keep up with chores when you’ve got a little one.” You say almost reading his mind. “I find it hard sometimes, and it’s just me living here.”

It sounds almost sad. He catches the way you not-so-fondly declare your living situation, as if you owe him any sort of explanation or insight into your life. You don’t. 

“It ain’t that bad. Tommy helps out a lot.” Joel tells you and you lead him up the stairs—but not before asking him if he’d mind taking off his dusty work boots. “Just neither of us are very good at cookin’. I mean, I can do the basic shit, but Tommy is fuckin’ awful. Sienna—Tommy’s girl—is an amazing cook, but she works long hours, and she’s got a kid of her own to worry about, so—“

“So you guys are just stuck living on pasta and fries?”

Joel snickers, though he does nod. He likes that you can be direct sometimes. 

“I can teach you how to cook. I mean—“ you show him to your bedroom quickly. “You’re doing me a favor by fixing my aircon, the least I can do is show you how to make a pie, or some kind of casserole that you can stick in the freezer and use in emergencies.”

“Thanks.” He’s taken aback. Not for the fact that you’re showing him your boudoir—despite that being where your faulty machine is located—but because you’re offering pleasantries where they’re not usually seen. Joel isn’t one to complain, though. 

He is, however, the type of man to somehow offend somebody on a whim, and so he shuts his mouth when you open the top of the unit. 

“It’s kinda old—ignore that, it came with the house.”

He nods, taking out one of his torches from the tool bag. 

“So…” you watch over his shoulder—irritating him a bit—as he putters and fiddles with the internal mechanisms. “Can I get you anything?”

Some fuckin’ space. 

“No thanks.”

Tight-lipped, you smile. 

Joel’s fingers work the fan to ensure that it’s still able to spin, and you marvel at his uncharacteristic gentleness. With fingers as calloused as his own, you’d be sensible in thinking that he has a tendency to be heavy handed. But apparently not. 

And that just adds to the fact—as blatant as anything—that you really don’t know the man that you share a zip code with. 

“It needs refrigerant.”

“Oh—“

“It’s a quick fix. I can run to the hardware store and pick some up—but you’re gonna have to wait ‘cus Tommy’s taken my truck.”

“We can take my car?” You offer, leaving him to mull it over for a few seconds. “But I’ve just gotten it valeted—“

“I’ll wait for my brother to get back. Should only be another few hours.”

You blink at him. Your stare is blank, completely fucking empty. How does he expect you to sit—to simmer and literally marinate—in your own sweat? 

But before you can whine and make Joel’s day ten times worse, he proposes an idea. 

“You can uphold your end of the bargain, in the meantime.” Smug, he says. “My A/C works—and I got fans in my kitchen. If you come ‘n help me out with making some cookies and a pot roast, then I can go get you what you need when Tommy gets back.”

You don’t even need to consider the offer before you’re running downstairs and grabbing vegetables and spices, and whatever else you’ll need that you know Joel won’t have in his pantry. 

He gets you to take a few beers across the street, too. And you do because you’re kind, and want Joel to feel comfortable when doing something that he’s not all too familiar with. 

You give him time to clean up when you get back to his house, and find all the appropriate utensils to start cooking. Joel spends at least fifteen minutes in the shower, and you take time to indulge yourself with the icy flurry in his kitchen. 

It’s a feeling almost orgasmic in nature. The bitterness against your skin—cold and lurid, almost—and breeze that catches the hem of your dress, hiking it to the middle of your thigh, is wonderful. You find yourself leaning into it like an embrace, letting the skin of your chest catch the cool. 

And in your moment of pure superfluity, you somehow drown out the background noise of footsteps approaching the linoleum floor of the kitchen. 

Joel clears his throat. “Nice?”

You spin around—the neckline of your dress slightly garbled—and bleed crimson into your cheeks. “Yes. It’s lovely.” You stutter, completely embarrassed. “Sorry—“

“Don’t be. You’ve been meltin’ all day, sugar. You need this.”

Sugar. Your heart skips a beat at the pet name. 

Joel walks to the refrigerator—like he hasn’t just rocked your entire fucking world after doing a brilliant job of convincing you that he hates you over the last god-knows however many months—and puts his hands on his hips. 

“Can we use Chuck Roast?”

You nod, not being able to formulate a verbal response. 

You’re still trying to cross the sugar bridge. 

“Fantastic.” He says. Joel reaches down into the cupboard beside the range and takes out a roasting tray that you’re sure has never been used before. “This?”

“Yes.” Finally, you manage. And though the cool against your flesh is lovely, you can still feel heat stippling across the apples of your cheeks. 

You wonder if he heeds it. 

Joel turns back to you with a shit-eating grin. He does. 

“I can’t wait to make this. Sarah’ll love it.”

You lift a brow. 

“My little girl. That’s her name.”

“Oh.” Your eyes soften. “That’s beautiful, Joel. She’s a cute kid.”

He nods, padding over to stand beside you at the counter. “She is. And she loves her food, so this’ll go down a damn treat…And if you’re lucky, then you can stay ‘n eat with us.”

“Joel, I couldn’t—“

He raises a hand as you pull oil, salt and some more herbs from your bag. “I insist. We don’t really know one another, and I can’t help feelin’ like we’ve got off on the wrong foot. It’s the least I can do, especially ‘cus of how nice you’ve always been to my brother.”

It’s true. Tommy has always been somebody that you’ve regarded highly, because he’s such a delight. He might’ve accidentally stumbled into your life—and your back—at the supermarket last year, but he’s been a lovely permanent fixture in your life. And you can’t seem to think of having it any other way. 

He’s a good friend. And even better confidant, with a brother whose chocolatey hues are scrutinizing your form—top to bottom—while you oil your pan, and throw in a handful of onions and carrots. 

Joel’s head grows fuzzy, the more he watches and listens to you. He can’t seem to wrangle any rational thoughts, now. Because you’re actually down-to-earth—when it’s just the two of you—and he wonders why it’s taken this long for him to invite you into his home. 

The angsty nature of your relationship has always put a downer on things. Whenever he’d catch sight of you talking to his brother, Joel’s green-eyed monster would consume him and any sense of reason would become distorted. And he always knew that he was the sole reason for the bitter tension—because you’re never this way with anybody else—but can never bring himself to admit just why he feels this way. 

Tommy’s inconceivable idea about him having a crush on you—that, really, isn’t so odd now—might be ringing true. 

You explain to Joel each step that must be taken in order to achieve the perfect pot roast. From browning the vegetables, to adding the beef and stock and all of the herbs that contribute to the meaty flavor, Joel listens intently to your every word. 

He’s completely lost in you, now. The way you speak. How you explain things with metaphors, and examples that Joel will understand. How you use the back of your arm to wipe away perspiration as you stand over the broiling pot, never taking your eyes off of the meal that you’re helping your neighbor to prepare. 

Joel is infatuated. 

“Now we let it sit for a few hours.” You say while walking over to the sink to wash your hands clean of any food. “Did you still want to make some cookies?”

“Maybe later. I’m kinda fed up of being in this kitchen now.” He lets out a laugh and puts down the big spoon that you’d given to him to stir the pot. Because that’s his job, now. “You want a drink?”

“What’ve you got?”

“Wine, beer, lemonade, orange juice.” He recites from memory. “Not sure what else is in the refrigerator.”

You glance at the clock. It’s barely pushing one in the afternoon, but you’re gasping for a cool glass of white. Or red. Or whatever the fuck Joel has cold. 

“Wine, please.”

He pulls out a bottle of Merlot—not something you’d associate with Joel—and you reach for two glasses from the open cabinet above the stove.  

“I didn’t put you down as a wine drinker, Miller.”

“Well, I guess that I’m full of surprises.” He says teasingly, sliding over your almost-completely-full beverage. 

You hum when you pull the glass up to your lips, indulging in the heavy-handed pour from the man who can’t take his fucking eyes off of you as you stand at his kitchen island, helping him make dinner. 

Joel is transfixed by the way that your chest—shiny and glistening—raises as you take each breath. How the strap on your dress falls to the middle of your arm when you lift the stem of the glass, or lower it back to the island. 

He’s kicking himself. But he’s enjoying the sight too much to look away. 

“See something you like?” You ask and lick your lips, almost pandering to the internal quandary that he has suddenly found himself entwined with. And you’re never usually this forward, so the ventricles of your heart begin to seize as the organ batters against the cage of your ribs, pulsating vividly beneath your sundress. 

Joel is surprised by the tone of your voice, almost pinching himself to ensure that this isn’t some kind of convoluted alternate reality. 

But he soon realizes that this—you in his home—is not a figment of his imagination, but something very real. 

“I guess.” Joel says, and rounds the island until he’s standing beside you. He looks you up and down, setting his glass against the wood grain. “What about you?”

You nod, letting your gaze flit between Joel’s face and the protruding bulge in the taught denim decorating the lower half of his body. He feels his heat begin to temper, getting strangled by his jeans the more he eyes you. 

Joel urges you to sit on the counter—his hands affix to the meat of your ass as you lift yourself up—and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist in a bid to pull him impossibly close to your body.

“Is this a good idea?”

“Probably not.” Joel all but growls before he’s fastening his lips to your own, and you’re moaning into his mouth while he’s starting to unbuckle the belt on his pants. 

It’s needy. God. It’s so fucking needy that you’re at risk of unraveling right here, but you manage to contain your arousal, and allow yourself to add more intensity to the embrace. 

Joel’s tongue is blanketed by the taste of wine, cigarettes, and a hint of the broth that the two of you made before he was trying to get into your panties, and you’re basking in it. You’re basking in the way that his nose pushes into your own as he adds more force—more desire—to the kiss, and how much he craves you after so many months spent despising your presence. 

“Joel—“ You whimper out when he comes up for air, putting your hands against his as he palms his cock through the material of his underwear. “Joel, this isn’t right—“

“‘Course it is, baby.” He croons in your ear, seeing the goosebumps stipple down your neck and across your shoulders. Your head falls backwards. “See how much you like it? This is just fine.”

You take a deep breath when his prick—still endowed in his Calvin’s—dances along your clothed heat. “But—But what if Tommy gets back.” 

“Then we’ll have to make it quick.” Joel states, letting his member spring free of the confines of his boxers, and your eyes widen. It’s bigger than you thought—not that you had thought much of it until this moment—and the girth is commendable. You’re not sure whether you’ll be able to take him in one fluid motion, but you don’t doubt that Joel will try. 

He lifts the hem of your dress until it’s sitting just above your panty line, and rubs his thumb over your clit that suddenly feels trapped beneath pink lace. Joel massages the bud for a few measly seconds before remembering that this was meant to be a quickie, and pushes your underwear to the side. 

“Wow.” His jaw drops. He lets his forefinger run up and down your seam, gathering the pooling wetness on the tip of it. Joel brings it to his lips and sucks it clean, before he’s going back in with another. 

Joel’s fingers pump slowly—seductively—in and out of your pussy, knuckle fucking deep until he’s pushing at the spongiest part of your cunt. He feels resistance, and you begin to tighten around him, but he continues. 

He paws at his cock in time with the hilt deep finger-fucking he’s giving you, moaning your name. You claw your nails against the counter, hardly able to hold yourself up while you begin to leak liquid arousal around Joel’s calloused fingertips that’re working you to your finish. 

“If you—Joel—don’t fuck me, I’ll cum all over your hand—“

“Is that a threat?” He digs, hastening his pace. He curls and contracts his fingers within the chasms of your core, unravelling you very quickly. You whine and write beneath his hold, striving to keep onto your dignity for a little bit longer than this. “‘Cus, darlin’, I can live with that—“

You cut him off with a moan as he pulls his fingers out and—like the dirty old man that he is—makes you suck them clean. He shoves them down the back of your throat until you’re gagging with tears in your eyes, lining his cock up at your slit while he’s choking you like a fucking masochistic psychopath. 

But it’s hot. 

Joel is so hot, and you can’t believe that you’re fucking him—in his kitchen—when, really, you should be spending your afternoon trying to get your A/C unit fixed. Because that’s the only reason you left your house, today. 

He pushes into you—filling your cunt nicely—and you can’t help hastening your movements at the first ounce of touch. Because you’re growing impatient now. He worked you to an—almost—premature release, and now he has to let you have it. 

Joel grips firmly onto the flesh of your thighs, pushing and pulling you into him as his cock spears you open—rutting into you like a mad man that hasn’t felt the warmth of a pussy since the dawn of time. But it’s been three months since Joel Miller got to dive into a woman—fingers first—and he’s determined to get every last ounce of pleasure out of you. 

“How does it feel, pretty girl? How does my cock feel, pounding into you?” He asks, knowing that you won’t be able to formulate a verbal response. Joel writhes above you when your walls start to clamp down around him, giving him the answer that he craves. 

He hums his approval—hammering into your cunt—letting his knees hit against the island as he doesn’t miss a beat. Joel pulls down the neckline of your dress and exposes the supple flesh of your breasts, immediately taking your right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He massages pebbled skin, eliciting a string of broken moans from the deepest fissures of your chest. 

“So beautiful.” He praises, urging you to moan louder. Joel’s cock stutters at the sound. He can feel his release looming and, though he hates the thought of finishing after not even a whole five minutes of driving into you, he knows that prolonging is no longer an option. 

“Joel—I’m—gonna—“

“I know, darlin’.” He reassures, still relentlessly fucking into you. Still hitting you hilt-deep, and fighting against the fluttering walls around him. “You just let it go when you’re ready.”

And just from that—the way that his velvety tone oozes consolation—you find yourself unwillingly unraveling beneath your sexy older neighbor, giving your entire self to him on a random Saturday afternoon. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me.” Joel coaxes you through your orgasm, praising your movements and the way you shamelessly coat his cock with your sweetness that he can’t help but taste. He moans around his finger, letting his movements hinder slightly as he works toward his own release. 

But watching you—how the sensitivity is consuming you and making even the slightest touch the most overstimulating thing in the entire fucking world—is enough to drive him to the edge. 

“Give it to me, Joel. Fill me up right here.” You brandish the man whose prick is threatening to spill inside of your cunt. 

He ruts into you for a few moments more, before his spend is exploding into you like the most erotic of fireworks, and threads of cum paint your walls, thighs, and clit as he pulls out and rubs his head along your warmth one last time. 

Joel collapses into your chest, sticky and dripping lust. 

“That was amazing.” You say through bated breaths, panting like a fucking dog. 

“Bet you didn’t think an old guy could fuck that good, huh?”

Your head shakes and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. 

“Think we’ll have to make a thing of this, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, you’re nodding at him. Your arms lazily drape over Joel’s shoulders, and he pecks kisses along your neck and chest. “Absolutely. I’ll never be able to fuck a man my own age, now…”

For the first time since forcing his way onto this street, Joel Miller feels like he didn’t make a mistake moving back to Austin. 

[hottiesforhockey]

can I request Jack Hughes w the quote "delete it." Where he's on ur insta and finds a picture of you at the beach in a skimpy bikini & there like randoms commenting the crazy stuff, plsss🙏🙏

puckbunnypriv

liked by _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, jackhughes and others

puckbunnypriv sad summer is over 🥲 📸 : jackhughes

jackhughes stunning 😍

↳ _quinnhughes luke is actually drooling right now

lhughes_06 👀 😮‍💨

colecaufield the things i would do for you to give me one shot

↳ trevorzegras @ jackhughes someone is trying to steal your girl

"delete it." Jacks voice is low as he glares down at his phone, his thumb still scrolling as he reads the excess of comments. you pause your movements in the kitchen, placing the knife on the chopping board besides the watermelon.

"what are you talking about?" You question, walking around the kitchen counter, leaning over the back of the couch to get a glance at his phone. "Oh, but you took that photo... I thought I looked cute?" You respond, your brows pinching as you look down at him in confusion.

"You do look cute." He groans, "too cute." he whispers under his breath, locking his phone and throwing it to the other side of the couch. "and that's the problem, so delete it."

Your smile slowly grows as you realise the issue with the photo, remembering the messages constantly blowing up your phone from friends who had seen the pic and warned you that Jack has a jealous streak.

"Look at these fucking comments." Jack curses as he tilts his head back noting your sly smile, his hands reaching for his phone, unlocking it before turning it towards you so you can read. "My own brother and bestfriend are drooling over you." he whines as the infamous hughes pout forms on his face.

"aw, how sweet of them." you tease, scrolling a little before adding fuel to the fire, "cole has been working really hard this summer." Jack shift his head to glare at you in full force, locking his phone before throwing it away again, his hands pushing him off the couch, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he closes in on you.

"you think you're so funny." He grumbles, your feet taking a step back every time he steps forwards, his hand reaching out for you as you side step him. "baby, as much as I love seeing you in your swimsuits we need some new rules." he continues as he follows after you, lunging forwards, his hands managing a firm grip on your hips as he yanks you towards him.

"no more bikini pics." he whispers in your ear, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls your back tight against his front, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your neck as your giggling dies down, gulping against the lump in your throat.

"your body is for me and for me only." he continues, his hands slipping under your t-shirt, sliding softly against the skin on your sides, your breath catching in your throat, as he presses more delicate kisses against your neck, sucking lightly as he reaches the underside of your jaw.

you let out a soft sigh as your lean your head back against his shoulder, feeling his mouth break out in a grin as his hands move higher, his fingers just barely grazing your skin as he reaches the underside of your breasts fiddling with the lace on your bralette.

your lip catching between your teeth as he moves ripping his hands away from you, moving quickly from his spot behind you - standing two steps away as your body still tingles from his touches.

you turn quickly to look at him in shock, the brightest smile on his face as he watches you frown. "no so fun when you're the one being teased, is it?" he chuckles.

[cassiesc0rner]

Impurities V

Synopsis: You're the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: Nate x fem!reader

Warnings: negative body-image, panic attack, manipulation, lying, jealousy, dark themes, violent behaviour, Nate talks about intimate stuff with Max, Nate is being really mean :/ Imk if I missed something

Song rec: praying - Isabel LaRosa | I wish you roses - Kali Uchis | mentally not here - Elita | Somewhat Damaged - NIN | Animal - Sir Chloe

WC: +9,5k

Other parts: previous part, next part

A/N: I know this one took a little longer than usual, but I fear the next updates will take a little longer too, since I’m a perfectionist and I don’t wanna do anything half assed and quick. This one is also really just angsty. :( but thank you guys in advance for reading, and for being so patient with me! ᥫ᭡

You were surprised when you got home and found your dad opening the door for you. It wasn't like he never opened the door for you before, but you were used to your mom being the only one who's home.

You didn't bother saying anything as you entered your home. He frowned for a moment when you walked past him, typing on your phone. He was surprised you didn't smile at him and greet him properly.

"Y/n?" he called out. You turned around and looked at him "What?" you asked nonchalantly. He looked at you completely bewildered, before he sighed "Where were you?" he asked with a frown.

Your eyes nearly jumped out of your skull "Excuse me... what did you say?" you asked, taking a few steps closer to him. "Did you just ask me where I was?" You scoffed in disbelief.

Your dad crossed his arms. "Yeah.. what's with the attitude?" he asked. "Oh, sorry, it's just.. you usually never ask me where I've been so..." You explained sarcastically, not sure if your parents were slowly losing their minds.

"I was outside with a friend." you added before taking your shoes off, and walking towards your room.

Your dad looked after you in confusion. He hadn't looked at you properly for the past few weeks, and he felt uneasy, seeing how different you dressed and behaved.

Earlier that day, he approached your mom and asked her, why you two got so quiet all of a sudden, and she told him about her concerns regarding you and Nate. At first, he thought she was just making a fuss over nothing again.

But after seeing you walk past him, looking nothing like his daughter, he became concerned as well. It wasn't just the short skirt and the way-too-tight top that threw him off; it was the fact that you suddenly looked like every highschool guy's fantasy.

If you were to ask a middle schooler what a girl looks like, they'd describe you: No body hair, long lashes, obsessed with pink and skirts.

You weren't like that before. You never wore skirts or bright, soft colours. You always wanted to look cool and dark, not soft and... feminine.

He shook his head in disbelief before he walked into the garden and lit his cigarette, worried about what you might've gotten yourself into.

And worrying about how he could get you out of it.

The next day you woke up feeling well-rested as your alarm rang at 11 AM. It was Saturday, and you and Nate had this unspoken rule of meeting up every Saturday.

He texted you that he'd pick you up at 1 PM, but he didn't tell you what you would be doing. You got up and chose one of your dresses for the day.

It was a vintage-style, pastel pink A-line dress, with a floral pattern and puffy short sleeves. You found the dress online one day and just had to order it.

You missed it sometimes, going shopping on your own and taking inspiration from your pinterest boards. Choosing your clothes yourself and not wearing what someone else wants you to wear.

You missed your pants, loose graphic tops and your comfortable sneakers. When you wore tighter fitting tops, you constantly felt the need to suck in your stomach, and sit straight to prevent any pesky rolls from appearing.

The worst part was, that you were absolutely sure Nate didn't notice your effort which pressured you even more, because he probably thought you simply looked like this all the time.

Eating with him was also something you couldn't enjoy as much anymore, because you got bloated after your meals sometimes. You trusted Nate with your life, but you just didn't want him to see you in any unflattering way ever.

You also obviously loved Nate, and his compliments, but you were so overwhelmed sometimes, because you were so focused on being perfect for him that you weren't able to pay attention to other things anymore.

You didn't want him to even think about looking at other girls, which he also barely did when you two were out together. But the words of your mother and Maddy made you feel so insecure.

If what they were saying was true, you should be concerned about Nate only liking you because of your style or appearance, but instead, you felt the need to impress him more and more every time, craving his approval.

You pushed the thoughts aside as you grabbed a fresh towel, your underwear, and your dress before you went to the bathroom to take a shower and shave, which was a part of your routine you had to get used to at first.

It wasn't like you never shaved before, but you definitely never took it as serious as now. You loved it when Nate would run his hands over your legs, or arms with this satisfied smile on his face before he would tell you how smooth and soft your skin feels.

After your morning routine, you sighed as you slid into the dress, before you brushed and blow-dried your hair.

When you left the bathroom and walked back towards your room, you were surprised to catch a glimpse of both of your parents in the kitchen. You were starting to get suspicious, since your dad usually would've been at work by now.

You brushed it off and walked into your room to do your make up. You usually didn't wear a lot of make up. You just made sure to accentuate your lashes, put on some tinted lip balm, and some concealer to hide any dark spots. Sometimes, you added a winged eyeliner, nothing too dramatic, which gave your eyes a more doll-like look.

Of course, you were aware of the fact that Nate loved that look on you; in his eyes it suited you perfectly.

Almost like you were his own personal doll.

You also put on a generous amount of your perfume, after noticing how much Nate loved it on you, and decided to stay in your room until he would call you to tell you he's there.

You used the time to think of something you could gift Nate. Sure, you planned the surprise party and you paid for a lot of the things already. But you felt obligated to buy him an extra present, simply because he bought you so many without a special occasion.

Before you could finish that thought however, the doorbell rang. You didn't bother to leave your room since you knew your mom ordered something a few days ago.

Until you heard his deep voice vibrating through the walls.

You quickly got up and nearly ran out of your room. You walked to the main hallway, spotting Nate, talking to your dad, with flowers in his hand. He was earlier than you expected.

You walked up to them until you reached Nate and nearly jumped into his arms. "Hey.." you whispered shyly as you smiled up at him, your eyes so full of love for him that he couldn't help but wonder if all of this was just an act.

If you also looked at Max that way.

"These are for you." he informed you with a small smile, as he handed you the bouquet of red roses. He bought them on his way to your place, mostly for you of course, but also in an attempt to make a good impression on your parents.

"Aw.. they're so beautiful thank you!" You exclaimed as a big smile made its way onto your face. You got on your tiptoes before pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"Is this the 'friend' you went out with yesterday?" your dad asked, causing your eyes to widen before you turned towards your dad "No.. I went to Mia's place yesterday." yeah sure "This.." you trailed off as your hand searched for Nate's "is my boyfriend." you announced.

Your dad nodded "Yeah.. we've talked before, right?" he asked and Nate forced a smile "Yeah..." Your dad chuckled "I would give you the 'don't you dare hurt my daughter' talk, but I'm sure my wife did that already."

Nate nodded slowly "Yeah.. she did." he sighed. "I'll bring her back tomorrow, if that's okay?" He added. Your dad hesitated for a moment before he nodded as well. "Alright, let's go." You said as you smiled up at Nate.

You handed the roses over to your dad "Can you put them in my vase for me?" you asked as you looked at him, and to his dismay, you weren't smiling at him the way you used to when you were younger.

Or the way you just smiled at Nate.

He nodded as he smiled down at you "Sure.. When are you going to be back tomorrow?" he asked as Nate opened the door, ready to leave as fast as possible. "Um.. I don't know?" you shrugged before you simply waved at him, which bothered your dad.

It bothered him because he knew that you didn't need him anymore. When you needed him he was at work, always, no exception. You must've been so lonely without him, just the thought of it made him feel awful.

It wasn't that he simply didn't care enough about you. He did, he just couldn't show it, because that meant he'd be vulnerable in front of his family.

And his dad didn't raise him like that.

As soon as the door closed behind you, your dad sighed in frustration "You know that this is your fault, right?" your mom taunted as she stood behind him.

Your dad turned around as he clenched his jaw "What was I supposed to do? Say 'no, don't ever talk to my daughter again'?" He angrily responded as he walked past her "That's not what I meant." She retorted calmly, as she watched him go into the kitchen.

When he didn't react, she shouted "You could've prevented all of this from happening, if you just would've been a real father."

He stopped in his tracks before he turned around, the flowers still in his hands as he approached your mom with heavy steps, causing her to take a step back in fear "Oh yeah?" he rumbled as he looked down at her "And what about you? Maybe if you did your job right, our daughter wouldn't cling to a guy like him."

She sighed before blinking up at him "What do you mean by that?" Your dad scoffed in disbelief "You know what I'm talking about. You and your fucking anxiety all the time... You raised a loner, and a weak one at that. Of course she's gonna run into the arms of the first person, who is nice to her for longer than just a week." he spat.

"It wasn't exactly easy to raise her alone, you know?" she defended herself "Jesus, you act like I did nothing for this family! Why do you think I'm constantly at work? So that you and her don't have to worry about money." he raised his voice, causing her to flinch.

He sighed as he recalled all the fights the two of them had, and how he would come into your room late at night, to tuck you into bed. That was one of the few interactions the two of you had when you were younger.

And you'd always complain about how your mom wouldn't let you go out with your 'friends', which caused them to think you were weird and a loner. Of course they weren’t real friends, but that alone made it even harder for you, to find actual people who you can trust and build a friendship with.

And whenever he tried to talk to your mom and tell her that she needed to get treatment for her anxiety, they would fight. Sometimes even until he had enough and just left, not coming home until the next day.

"Do me a favor," he said, pushing the roses into her hands, "put them in water and stop talking." he groaned, before leaving her behind to, once again, drive away and calm down.

Nate decided to take you to a pretty café today and you couldn't help but feel excited. Until you noticed that he was lost in thoughts for most of the car ride. He wasn't that talkative to begin with, but today was just different.

"And he suddenly asks me where I went when I got home yesterday, isn't that strange?" you said, looking at the menu, unsure which cake to choose. He nodded, narrowing his eyes at you without you noticing.

He wanted to ask you the same thing, but he knew you wouldn't tell him the truth "Yeah that's actually strange.. your family's strange in general though." Nate added.

He wondered what had gotten into your dad. At first, he didn't care that Nate wanted you to go to his party and sleep at his place, and then all of a sudden, he asks you where you went yesterday and when you’d be back home tomorrow?

He hoped he didn't have to take care of both of your parents. But he probably had to if your dad started to get in his way too.

But what was even more important right now was what you were doing with Max behind his back. And he was about to find out today, either you’ll tell him, or he will. "Nate?" he blinked before chuckling "Sorry.. I kind of zoned out."

You stroked his hand that was resting on the table, looking at him. "Is everything okay? You seem really distracted today." you frowned.

Nate shook his head dismissively "Yeah sure.. I'm just really stressed out at the moment.." you pouted in return "I'm sorry, is there something I can do? Do you wanna go home?" He shook his head again "No, let's order something and eat first."

You nodded as you continued to look at the list "I don't know which one to choose.." you groaned as your eyes flickered from one cake to another. "C'mon, let me choose for you." Nate offered as he looked at the menu, feeling some sense of control return to him.

"Yeah, please." you sighed. "I wanna get the cheesecake, but the strawberry one also looks really good." you explained. Nate nodded "Take the strawberry one." he demanded calmly.

You nodded before you started a new topic "Oh, by the way, what do you think of my new dress? I bought it recently.." you told him with a shy smile on your tinted lips. Nate furrowed his brows in return, realizing he hadn't complimented you today.

Did you feel neglected? Had this happened before? "Oh, you're right! I meant to ask you about it, since I've never seen you wear that before... You look absolutely gorgeous, as always." He smiled at you "How could I forget..." he mumbled more to himself than to you.

Maybe it did happen before and you felt like he's not paying attention to you anymore. Which definitely wasn't true at all, but you were insecure so what if you let your insecurities get the best of you?

That could be the only reason for you to even consider cheating on him with someone like Max.

After the short trip to the café nearby, you and Nate went straight home. His patience was running thin and he needed closure. You already noticed his mind was elsewhere, and he already planned on asking you about the situation once you were at his place.

As you entered Nate's home, Marsha greeted and approached you. "Hey, Sweetie." She exclaimed as she hugged you softly. "How did your mom take the news?" she asked.

You sighed "To be honest, not so well.. Haven't spoken to her in days." you admited with a sad smile. "Oh... that's not good. I guess she's not open to meeting up with me then?" She added "I didn't even get to ask her, because we had a pretty big fight." you admitted.

Marsha frowned "I'm sorry, Honey." just as she was about to say something else, Nate interrupted "We'll figure something out, I bet it's gonna be alright." you nodded in response "C'mon let's go upstairs." he added before he took your hand in his. You smiled friendly at Marsha before you followed him.

Once you two entered his room, Nate closed the door behind him, not moving from the spot.

Then you heard the click sound of the lock.

You turned around and looked at him, with this confused look which Nate usually found absolutely endearing. When he simply stared at you, you felt even smaller than you already were in his presence.

You chuckled nervously, unsure of what he was going to do next. Did he plan on having sex with you right away? Why else would he lock the door?

"Are you.. just gonna stand there?" You asked nervously. He chuckled drily before shaking his head "I'm just looking at you for a moment." he reasoned.

You approached him with a shy smile, before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your head on his chest, releasing a content sigh as you did.

Usually Nate would smile in return or react in literally any way, but right now he decided to wait until you would let go of him. Right now he didn't like the way his your perfume clouded his senses, or the way his your bag sat so nicely on your shoulder.

Once you removed your arms and took a step back to look at him, Nate decided now's the moment. His back leaned against the door as he stared you down. "I need to ask you something." he announced. You frowned, before nodding and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Where were you yesterday?"

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect him to ask you that. You involuntarily swallowed as you playfully furrowed your brows "I was at Mia's, I told you." he chuckled again "I know what you told me." he said as he crossed his arms, an insincere smile on his face that sent a shiver down your spine.

You looked at the ground as you tried to think of something, anything you could say. "Y/n, where were you yesterday?" it was the same question, but his tone was sterner. You didn't dare to look at him, knowing he'd see how nervous you were.

Not like he couldn't tell already just by the way you stared at the ground. "I.. was at M-Mia's-" Nate groaned "No, you weren't." he interrupted "I know for a fact that you weren't." his voice dropped an octave, as he tried his best to control himself.

He took notice of the way your breathing picked up as you still didn't look at him. "Nate... Why are you asking me this?" you asked as you tried to calm down, and buy time to come up with something else you could tell Nate.

"Because you're lying to me, and I wanna know why." He reasoned. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were with Max, or if he talked to Mia and only knew that you weren't with her. All you knew was that he wasn't messing around. "Why do you think I'm lying to you?" you asked as you finally looked up at him.

You've never seen that look on his face before.

This dark, cold look that made your breath hitch in fear. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he suddenly asked, his voice void of any emotion. You quickly shook your head "No, of course not! I just... I don't know where this is coming from suddenly." you admitted.

Nate sighed "Y/n... I'm going to ask you this one last time and you better tell me the truth." he warned, "Where were you yesterday?" Your breathing got quicker again, not allowing you to focus. "I.. I wasn't at Mia's place..." you admited shakily.

Nate nodded "That's right, you weren't." his tone softened just slightly "Now tell me... who were you with yesterday?" You played with your fingers as you felt like your heart would stop any moment from now. "Nate... I-I can't tell you."

Nate clenched his jaw as he inhaled sharply. "I've always been honest with you, is it too much to ask you to do the same?" he asked drily "I don't... ask for much, you know? I'm willing to give you everything I can and all I want in return, is your honesty and most importantly, your loyalty."

You nodded as you tried to calm down again. "I love you, but I can't tell you, you really have to trust me with this." he scoffed "You want me to simply trust you, after you just lied to me?"

You nodded erratically "Are you scared of me?" You shook your head as you blinked rapidly. Of course you weren't scared of Nate, you’re sure he'd never hurt you. But he was so scary in this moment that you didn’t know how to handle it.

"Then why don't you tell me what's going on?" He asked, even more irritated than before. You sighed as you tried to come up with an excuse, so desperate to keep the party a secret for as long as possible. "Okay.. um.." you started as you suddenly got an idea.

"The thing is, I had an appointment yesterday and I didn't want to tell you because.." you trailed off once Nate scoffed "Stop fucking lying, Y/n!" he raised his voice at you, causing you to flinch as he started to lose his patience and his temper.

Nate gripped both of your arms firmly, but not tight enough to hurt you. You flinched once again as you looked up at him. "I know you met up with Max." you shook your head rapidly as you remembered Max's words.

"Please don't let Nate beat my ass if he finds out we went out alone."

Nate laughed in disbelief before his grip tightened on you, causing you to whimper in fear. "I saw you, okay? I saw you get out of his fucking car, so don't fucking lie to me!" he shouted.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What did he mean by that? Did he see you get out of his car when you two went to the mall, or when he drove you home?

Was he.. waiting in front of your house? No, you were sure he wouldn't do that.

"You saw me get out of his car? Were you following me?" you asked in disbelief.

Shit.

Nate looked to the side for a moment to regain his composure "I meant, I saw you get into his car. Of course I didn't follow you, you never gave me a reason to." he said in a calmer tone this time "But when you're fucking lying to me, to meet up with another guy, I might have to do it, no?"

You looked to the ground again "Did he touch you?" you shook your head "Did you touch him?" you shook your head again. He wanted to believe you, but your desperate attempts to hide the truth really messed with him.

He swung you around, pushing your back into the wall and knocking your breath away in the process. Your looked at him like a deer in headlights, as you tried to process what was happening. You didn't even notice how quick you were breathing because you were so fixated on Nate.

"You don't get how serious this is, do you?" he gritted his teeth "I told you about Maddy and how she cheated on me and-and you... you meet up with Max, behind my fucking back.. I mean, you know how that looks, right?" he rambled.

You felt your vision starting to blur slightly as you looked up at Nate "N-Nate-" you whimpered, and he scoffed in return "I mean, what is it? Does he treat you better or did you just get bored of me?" He asked furiously.

You breathed even heavier as you tried to keep your tears inside. "I didn't cheat on you!" you raised your voice, but it came out shaky. Nate nodded sarcastically "You think I believe that after you lied to me?"

You sighed "I'm sorry for lying to you, but you can't actually think I-" Nate removed one hand from your arm, before delivering a punching to the wall next to your head, causing you to whimper and close your eyes. "Then just tell me what happened between you two!" he roared.

You shakily exhaled "Nate, please.. You're scaring me." you pleaded desperately, and all he did was clench his jaw "You told me you're not scared of me earlier, was that also a lie?" he retorted.

"I didn't cheat on you, I love you and I would never do something like that to you." you started again "You know... how long it took for me that day, to even be able to... get naked in front of you." you sobbed, feeling embarrassed as your mind went back to that day. "Do you really think, I'd just.. cheat on you with a boy I barely even know?" you sniffled.

Nate chuckled, unable to contain his bitterness "I mean who knows, maybe that was an act as well." He snarled.

Your heart broke into pieces, the weight of his words heavy on you. Not only because he didn't believe you, but because you struggled so much to allow him to get this close to you, to see everything of you and now he seemed to make fun of you.

You tried to break free from his grip as you were about to cry, and didn't want him to see. But Nate was obviously stronger, almost smiling as you thrashed in his grip. "What is it, am I right?" He taunted as his other hand returned to your arm.

You shook your head as your lip trembled, not daring to speak because you knew it would come out in sobs. "C'mon, tell me, are you angry because I'm right?" He asked again.

Nate didn't notice how far he went, not even when he heard your silent cries. To him, it seemed like a confession rather than a denial.

He was sure you were crying because he caught you.

You felt yourself getting more and more lightheaded, mostly because of your irregular breathing which resulted in a lack of oxygen. "I.. never cheated on you!" you raised your voice once again. "I met up with him, yes. But.. that doesn't mean I cheated." you tried to sound as coherent as you could in the current situation.

You gripped his arms as a tear rolled down your cheeks. "Let go of me!" you yelled, as you tried to break free once again. He frowned as he looked down at you, still convinced that you were in the wrong. He leaned in closer, as his eyes bored into yours, before he whispered "What were you doing in his car then?"

Nate was torn between his anger towards you for breaking his trust, and the twisted and dark part of him which reveled in your tears which slowly started to spill, knowing that he caused them.

You sighed before you looked into his dark eyes, your brows furrowed in anger "I planned a surprise with him, for your fucking birthday, okay?" you spat as tears continued to well up in your eyes.

Nate fell silent as his thoughts went back to the messages Max had sent you. It actually made sense, for the first time he actually felt like you told the truth.

His grip on you softened slightly, and you used the chance to remove his hands from your arms before you pushed him away and sank onto the floor.

He looked down at you "... Seriously?" he asked softly. You sobbed as you harshly opened your bag before your shaky hands tried their best to grab and unlock your phone. Tears rolled down your face, as you couldn't contain them anymore.

Once you unlocked it and opened Max's chat, you held it towards Nate "Take it!" you wailed. He slowly took your phone, reading through the chat as he felt his heart sink more and more with each message.

Some even showing how excited you were to ‘finally do something for your boyfriend’, since you felt like you weren't good enough after he always made you gifts and you never gave him anything back.

He could feel your love just through the texts you sent Max, and it made him want to throw the phone away and scream in agony. Not only because he was so wrong, but also because of how awful he treated you, his sweet girl, his everything.

You continued to cry and breathe heavily, as you felt your chest tighten more and more. You never expected Nate to push you, or talk to you like this. He never got this rough with you, not even when you were just friends.

It shattered the image you had of him.

"Fuck..." he breathed out before he closed your phone and rubbed his face in disbelief, looking down at you with regret in his eyes.

He crouched down next to where you cowered, next to his door. You hid your face behind your arms as you continued to cry and hyperventilate. You felt like everything you saw of Nate was an act that he put on, in order to lure you in.

He reached his hand out to stroke your arm. "I'm so sorry... fuck, I don't even know what to-" You slapped his hand away "Don't.. touch... me." you choked out.

Nate was taken aback, not used to you talking to him like that, or slapping his hand away for that matter. Under any other circumstances he would be pissed and try to assert his dominance over you.

Not like he wasn’t pissed already, but more at himself for losing control, and not at you. He was supposed to protect you and make you feel safe with him, not repeat his old mistakes.

Right now he just wanted to scoop you up, and hold you close when he noticed you were sobbing on his floor, completely scared and shaken.

He went too far, way too far.

He had to fix it, and he had to think quickly because everything depended on this moment. If he made one more wrong move, everything could shatter into pieces right now.

Your tears continued to fall, as you slowly tried to get up again. You were torn, because you wanted to leave, be alone and think about what just happened, and at the same time you needed someone who holds you and comforts you, before you actually break down again.

Once you stood on your shaky legs, you reached out, snatching your phone from his grasp. Without another glance his direction you took small steps towards the door, ready to unlock it and leave.

"What are you doing?" Nate panicked as he walked in front of you. You flinched at the sound of his voice, which caused him to frown, once he realized that you were actually scared of him.

But Nate would never let you leave like this.

Not only because he was actually scared to lose you right now, but mostly because he saw how shaky your legs were and how disturbed you looked. He couldn't let you leave alone like this, it was dangerous.

"I'm leaving.." you sniffled as you walked past him. He wanted to hug you and hold you close, but he was so scared to touch you. Almost afraid he'd break you or push you further away from him.

"Y/n, please, let me explain-" he stopped when you looked up at him, your eyes red and glassy, your make-up smudged and your cheeks stained with dark tears, a result of your mascara and eyeliner. You looked broken.

"Do you know... how fucking hard it was for me to trust you?" You asked as new tears were threatening to spill "I.. can't believe you actually considered.. that I put on an act in front of you. After everything I tried, to be.. perfect for you." you added. "I.. thought you were the only person in my life.. who would never hurt me!"

You suddenly broke down in tears, as the wall you so desperately tried to hold crumbled. Nate was taken aback when you raised your voice at him and cursed. He wasn't used to hearing you talk like that, and it made him realize even more how deeply upset you were.

"I know, and I'm so sorry.. I never should've said that, please, just let me hold you." he softly offered "I can tell that you're not okay right now, and I know that it's my fault, but I can assure you it's never gonna happen again."

He wanted to believe what he had just promised you, but he knew that another argument like this was bound to happen sometime. Either because you were too gullible around men, or because he was unable to keep the control he had over you.

Now that he’s seen you actually fight with him, he knew you weren’t going to stay as obedient as you were anymore. You actually talked back, defended yourself and stood your ground against him. Something he hadn’t considered up until this moment.

He took notice of how you gasped for air as you continued to cry. "Please let.. let me take care of you, yeah?" he carefully asked as he took a step closer "I'm not a monster, you don't have to be afraid of me.." he reminded you.

Once he was close enough, he carefully placed a hand on your shoulder in order to test if you'd push him away again. When you shuddered, he took a step closer and wrapped his arms around you, making sure to not hold you too tight, since you already seemed to be suffocating.

He's seen Maddy cry, he's seen Cassie cry, but nothing compared to seeing you cry. He hated himself for making you feel like this, and he hated himself even more for feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at your display of vulnerability earlier.

You just looked so pretty, even when you cried. "Shh.. it's okay, can you breathe with me?" He asked once he noticed you still hadn't calmed down. When you didn't respond and continued to gasp for air, he almost started to panic as well.

Nate couldn't understand how one confrontation was all it took for you to get a panic attack. But he was determined to regain control of you and the situation at hand.

In his eyes he had every right to assume you cheated on him, after you lied about going out with Max and after the messages he saw in the preview. But he also understood that you were upset, because his choice of words might’ve hurt you.

Not to mention, you planned this surprise for him because you loved him, and only him, and all he did was yell at you to tell him the truth, instead of simply trusting you in the first place.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as you tried to focus on anything but the overwhelming panic that consumed you. Your hands trembled uncontrollably, and you felt a wave of nausea hit you like a truck. The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in on you.

"Hey, look at me what's wrong?" he asked as his hands moved back to your shoulders. You looked up at him as you felt like your head was spinning. You weren't sure how to tell him what you needed, but you could see worry written all over his features.

"I.. I need to.. breathe.. fuck..." you croaked, panic visible on your features "I need air.." you added. Nate cursed under his breath as he realized you were actually having a full-blown panic attack. He had to distract you and calm you down, but he didn't know how.

He took a deep breath himself, as he closed his eyes, before opening them again "Y/N, please... breathe with me," he urged, his voice shaky yet soothing. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just follow my breath."

But his words barely registered in your mind, your thoughts racing too fast, too loud, to pay attention to anything. The mistrust, the fear of losing him, the shame of your perceived betrayal— it all pressed down on you, it nearly suffocated you.

Nate watched, helpless and horrified, as you cried in front of him. With each passing moment he saw the damage he had caused more and more, and it terrified him. He reached out again, more gently this time as he tried to comfort you.

Nate realized that mere words wouldn't be enough to undo the pain he had caused. He had to show you somehow, that he could be the person you needed. And he needed to gain control over the situation. Nate took another deep breath, trying to steady his own racing heart, and slowly moved closer to you.

He gently rubbed his thumbs over your shoulders, his touch light and hesitant. "Y/n, look at me," he said softly. "Focus on me, okay? Just on me." His voice was low and calming, a stark contrast to his earlier tone.

You hesitated, your vision still blurred with tears, but the sincerity in his voice made you look up. Nate's eyes were filled with regret and concern, completely different to the way he looked at you before.

"That's it," he whispered encouragingly, his thumb continued to brush your shoulder in a soothing rhythm. "Just keep looking at me. We're going to get through this together."

Nate took another deep breath, exaggerating the action to show you what he wanted you to do. "In through your nose, out through your mouth," he repeated, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just like this."

You tried to mimic his breathing, struggling at first but gradually falling into a more regular rhythm. Nate continued to guide you, his voice steady and reassuring. "Yeah just like that. Just keep breathing with me. It'll pass, I promise."

He gently reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, in an attempt to ground you. "I'm here," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere... and I never meant to hurt you."

You sniffled as you nodded rapidly. "We'll talk about it and get through this, right?" he asked, needing your reassurance this time, to which you nodded again. "Everything's gonna be fine again, just breathe." he instructed.

Gradually, the panic began to go away, your breaths coming more evenly. Nate's steady presence, his genuine regret, and his undevided attention helped steady you, pulling you back from the edge.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still shaky but more coherent. Nate nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll always be here for you. Always."

Nate knew that this was just the beginning of a long journey to rebuild what he had broken. But for now, he was focused on you, on making sure you were okay, and on showing you that he could be the man you needed right now.

He slowly pulled you into his arms, nearly clinging onto you as he sighed in relief "I love you so much.. don't ever forget that, yeah?" he pressed a tender kiss onto your head "I can't lose you.. That's why I got so angry. I shouldn't have said all those things.." he reasoned.

You nodded slowly as you inhaled his scent, which always made you feel so safe. You inhaled sharply one more time as you closed your eyes, feeling incredibly exhausted and lethargic, after your adrenaline level dropped back to normal.

Nate took notice of your physical state, sensing that you probably want to rest and feel comfortable again. He gently pulled back and cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" he said softly, his voice filled with genuine affection.

You nodded slowly, too drained to argue or protest. Nate slowly removed the bag from your shoulder before placing it down next to the door. Then he led you to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Once inside, he carefully sat you down on the edge of his cabinet. He grabbed a washcloth and dampened it with warm water, then gently began wiping away the remains of your smudged makeup from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

As he worked, he kept murmuring praises. "You're so beautiful... I never want to see you like that again. I'm here for you." His voice was soothing for your nerves, and you were starting to relax as you let him take care of you.

After he had cleaned your face, he slowly stood up from his crouching position before he left the room for a few seconds, and you hated how you already felt lonely.

He came back shortly after with one of his soft, oversized shirts in his hand. "Here, put this on. You'll feel more comfortable," he suggested, handing it to you. You took the shirt with a grateful nod, and slowly started to change, your movements shaky from exhaustion.

Nate averted his eyes respectfully, giving you a moment of privacy. Once you were dressed in his shirt, which smelled faintly of him and brought a sense of comfort, he helped you back to his bed.

You crawled under the covers, feeling the softness envelop you, and Nate slipped in next to you, unsure whether or not you wanted him to pull you close.

When you opened your eyes and looked at him like you were about to cry again, he scooted slightly closer, once you extended your arm and wrapped it around his waist, your body trembling ever so slightly.

He hated himself for feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He should feel awful for making you feel like this in the first place, and deep down he did, but he couldn't help but feel glad that you were clinging onto him.

He was scared he had lost you for a moment, but now he was more than sure that his small outburst pulled you closer to him.

He wrapped his arms around you securely, his warmth and steady heartbeat making you feel safe again. "I'm here, yeah? Just rest now," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "I've got you."

You nestled against him, your eyelids growing heavy. The exhaustion began to take over, and you felt yourself drifting off, surrounded by Nate's protective embrace. For the first time since the argument, you felt at peace, knowing he was there with you.

While you started drifting off to sleep however, Nate already contemplated what he'd do about Max. Sure, you two weren't secretly cheating, but he couldn't shake the feeling, that Max was a threat to your relationship nonetheless.

He still had to make sure that Max wouldn't tell you anything about Nate's past, and even if Nate would never admit it, he was insecure, and he was overthinking everything Max did. For example, why would he help you throw Nate a birthday party? They weren't that close, so what if Max was using it as an excuse to get close to you?

Of course you wouldn't notice it, you were too oblivious, even when Nate used to openly flirt with you back when you were just friends. God, he wished he could go through your messages with Max one more time, to search for possible hints that prove Max didn't only have good intentions.

But he obviously couldn't just ask you, he promised something like earlier would never happen again, and despite knowing that it would happen again, sooner or later, he couldn't just ask you about it this soon.

He decided to let you rest for now and take matters into his own hands once the time was right.

Once you opened your eyes, you noticed the soft light of the setting sun, which illuminated Nate's room. You had no idea how long you were asleep and once you tried to move, but felt the restriction of Nate's arm around you, you remembered what or who caused you to sleep in the first place.

You sighed softly as your mind went back to all the things Nate said. You know that he didn't mean it, and that he was just driven by anger. But the fact that he totally discredited your feelings during all of this, bothered you. And the way he shoved you into his wall, before punching it, scared you as well.

However, you assumed that his fear was mostly induced by the things that happened between him and Maddy.

Not to mention, that his anger wasn’t something he could control. You knew he didn’t do it on purpose, and you weren’t particularly angry at him. You just hoped that he’d work on that in the future, not only for your sake, but for his as well.

Your gaze shifted towards his face, taking in how peaceful he looked right now. You wished he could always be like this.

Once you tried to free yourself from his embrace, he subconsciously tightened his grip on you, causing you to fall flush against his chest. He slowly stirred awake, before opening his eyes and looking at you.

You both didn't know how to react, the tension thick in the air. But once you smiled softly at him, he started to relax, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, before smiling back at you.

"How're you?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. You sighed before sliding out of his grip and sitting up in his bed. "I'm better, my head just hurts a little bit, but that's fine..." you trailed off as you looked to the side.

Once silence set in, he sighed and stroked your thigh gently "I'm sorry about earlier.. I don't know what came over me." he said, his tone soft as he tried to appear as sad and regretful as possible.

"It's just.. Maddy, she ruined my trust and I was so sure you'd never betray me, which you clearly didn't, but when I saw all these signs, I was so sure that you did and I just snapped.." he ranted.

You could see the distress on his face and it made you frown, since you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.." you responded.

He was so glad that you didn't push him away, and accepted his apology. But he needed reassurance, any kind of reassurance that you wouldn't leave him. "It's fine.. I just want you to know, that if I ever get angry at you, I don't mean it like that, yeah? I just can't control myself sometimes and.. fuck.." he sighed, before he continued "I'm just so scared to lose you, I don't know how to handle it."

You sighed in response "Nate, you won't lose me just because I'm meeting up with other people, you know?" you carefully explained, to which he nodded.

That wasn't the reassurance he was hoping for though.

He wanted you to tell him you're never going to leave him, that you were his and that you'd stay far away from everyone else guys. "Yeah, sure it's just.. I need you, y/n. I don't think I could live without you." he said in an unusually emotional tone, almost as if he was about to cry, secretly hoping he’d be more successful if he showed you how desperate he truly was.

You stroked caressingly through his hair, in an attempt to calm him down. "Nate, I'm not gonna leave you, okay? I've seen you get angry before, and I know that it's not your fault.." His ears perked up at that. It wasn't his fault? That had to be the first time he heard someone say that.

He looked up at you "What do you mean it's not my fault?" you shrugged "I just don't think you do it on purpose..” When Nate still looked up at you, you elaborated.

“I know you don't really wanna talk about your dad, and that's totally fine, but I know that he causes a lot of your anger. I see how stressed you get because of him and the pressure of being perfect at everything.”

As if on command, his sad expression was replaced with a different one. Almost as if he was in awe, or moved by your words. No one ever seemed to acknowledge the pressure he had to endure, everyone only blamed him for everything he did.

His thoughts were racing, as you once again surprised him with your understanding nature. He didn’t expect that reaction, or to feel so understood and surprisingly warm. He couldn’t help but think about all the ways he could use your sympathy, to keep you close to him.

“You.. really think so?” he asked hopeful, to which you nodded. “Of course, I can’t imagine what that must be like.. I mean my parents are nowhere near perfect either, but they never really pressured me into anything except for getting decent grades.” you chuckled.

“I.. never thought anyone would understand,” he frowned as leaned his head flush against your outer thigh. “everyone always blames me for everything.. But I don’t do it on purpose.” he continued. “I know.. It’s hard to control it.” you cooed as you continued to stroke his hair.

You were speaking from experience, having to fight against your anger as well, whenever your parents got on your nerves. It definitely wasn’t easy, and that’s why you understood where Nate was coming from.

While you continued to comfort Nate, he already calculated his next moves. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this meant he could slip up from time to time, without losing you.

You technically just gave him permission to treat you like this, without being aware of it. And he was so proud, because you truly were perfect and you prove it over and over again.

After you two spent the weekend, you had to go back to school the following day. You obviously weren't aware of it, but Nate already planned to approach Max during their football training that day.

When Nate entered the locker room, most of his teammates were nearly ready, but Max wasn’t there yet.

Of course he didn’t plan to confront him in front of the other guys, even though he felt the urge to let everyone know, that they should stay the fuck away from you.

Once everyone was done and went ahead, Nate was still getting dressed, taking his time in case Max would still show up. Just then he indeed entered the locker room, his smile slowly fading when he looked around the room and noticed he was alone with none other than Nate.

Nate locked eyes with him, as he wondered what took him so long to get there. Was he meeting up with you again? It shouldn’t matter to him anymore, because now he knew you weren’t cheating on him. But he still didn’t want Max to spend more time with you than necessary.

“Hey..” Max greeted Nate, before hurrying and sitting down on the bench opposite from him. “What’s up..” Nate responded, his gaze basically glued onto him, as he laced up his cleats.

Max placed his bag onto the bench and sat down, starting to get ready as fast as possible. Not only because he arrived later than everyone else did, but also because he wanted to escape Nate.

“So,” Nate began, his voice surprisingly calm, almost friendly, which made Max feel even more uneasy. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with my girl lately, huh?”

Max’s hand froze inside his bag, as he looked towards Nate with the most neutral expression he could muster, but the hint of panic from before didn’t go unnoticed by Nate.

Max already expected Nate to confront him, after receiving your text on sunday, which informed him that he found out about everything. But that didn’t make it any easier for him.

He was also wondering, how he found out in the first place. You were hell-bent on keeping it a secret, so he could only assume that he caught on somehow and forced you to admit it.

He felt so sorry for you.

“Yeah, I guess you could say so..” he chuckled nervously, averting his gaze and rummaging through his bag. “You two get close? Maybe closer than you should?” he asked bitterly.

“Tell me, Max,” he said, standing up and stepping closer to him. “You think she’s pretty?” Max swallowed harshly, struggling to find the right words. He felt like Nate would get mad, no matter what he’d say.

“I mean, you spent enough time with her to notice. Those eyes, that smile… I’m sure anyone would get weak..” he paused, letting his words sink in. “Bet you even wondered what it’s like to be with her, right?”

Max’s discomfort was clearly visible, and Nate enjoyed every second of it, knowing he had the power to cause so much distress with so little effort.

“You know,” Nate added, as he took another step closer to Max, who looked at him with fear in his eyes. “She’s different, fucking perfect even. I know every inch of her, the way she moans when I touch her and the way she tastes, God..” Nate trailed off, enjoying the way Max seemed to squirm under his gaze.

“Listen Nate,” Max started cautiously, trying to keep eye contact but failing against Nate’s intense stare. “I-I don’t know what you think happened, but there’s nothing going on between me and Y/n. We were just-”

Max swallowed harshly, knowing that he was playing a dangerous game with him. He glanced around the locker room, hoping, no, praying that anyone would come in and interrupt their conversation.

“She asked me for help because it was important to her, and I thought you’d want me to support your girlfriend, so I said yes!” He explained himself to Nate “I swear, this was all about your birthday, I never would make any advances. I know she’s yours, man, everyone knows.” he continued.

“Y/n just wanted to make sure you have a great birthday, I really-” he paused, trying to interpret Nate’s reaction but all he got, was that same cold calculating gaze.

“And about what you said earlier,” Max added, “I-I’m not thinking about her like that. I mean, she’s your girlfriend and I respect that.”

Max clenched his fists, not out of aggression, but as a way to steady himself. He knew he stepped into dangerous territory –one wrong word could set Nate off.

When Nate still stared at him, Max sighed “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to help her –and you, of course.” he quickly added.

Nate smirked, as he finally averted his gaze. “Let’s say, you were just trying to help. That’s nice of you, really.” he finally responded, easing Max’s mind just slightly. “But you gotta understand, that it’s really suspicious, when my girlfriend meets up with another guy behind my back, no?”

Max quickly nodded in response “Yeah, of course.. that’s totally valid.” Nate nodded as well before continuing “And you also understand, that I don’t like to share my girlfriend with anyone, and that it’s my job as a man, to make sure everyone knows that, right?”

Max nodded as well “No, yeah, absolutely-” Nate chuckled “I mean, I’m not a fucking pussy. I gotta protect what’s mine.” he interrupted, causing Max to nod again.

Nate sighed, almost in relief, as he put on a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes “Good, I’ll see you outside then.” he patted his shoulder, like the two just had a friendly conversation and as if Nate didn’t just scare the shit out of Max. He just nervously smiled back at him, as Nate left him behind so he could get dressed in peace.

Once he left the locker room, Max sighed before slumping down on the bench again. He hated how helpless Nate made him feel. And he hated it even more, that you had to end up with a prick like him.

He wanted to tell you what happened, finally warn you about him. But it wasn’t only dangerous, it was also too late. He knew that Nate had his way of swaying girls, and the way you talked about him when you two texted, just confirmed that.

He could only hope, that you’d see his evil side one day, and realize what he’s truly like.

✎ damn, this was intense😓 hope you guys enjoyed it though, and as always let me know what you thought about this part!! ♡

- Cassandra

Taglist:

@lilyrachelcassidy, @endless----love, @sophsss867, @jennnsthings, @digitalpup444, @vividfleur, @tsofo26, @lunalvrsblog, @sunshinedaisy21

[lalacliffthorne]

🦇 MASTERLIST 🦇

Azriel 🗡

midnights - part I part II (fluff)

🌪 idiot 🌪 (smut, angst, fluff)

⚔️ I don't think now's the best time ⚔️ (battlefield, fluff)

📃 the basic rules of friendship 📃 (fluff, smut)

🌫 if you go down then we go down together 🌫 (angst, smut, fluff)

Rhys 🦇

✨️ starshine ✨️ - part I part II part III part IV part V part VI (fluff, angst, smut)

Cassian ⚔️

🤍 just a one time thing 🤍 - part I part II (fluff, smut, modern!Cass)

Feyre 🏹

💗 fuck it, let's do it again 💗 (smut)

drabbles 📄

Azriel 🗡

hickeys - payback - busted (fluff)

sick (fluff)

cheering up (fluff)

got you now (fluff)

tired (fluff)

Cassian ⚔️

grumpy (fluff, modern!Cass)

modern!roommate!batboys - drabble series

modern!batboys as your roommates headcanons 🦇

modern!batboys halloween headcanons 🦇

modern!batboys spooky season and halloween headcanons 🦇💕

modern!batboys christmas headcanons 🎀🦇💕

ride home (fluff, 🦇)

late nights (fluff, 🦇)

failed dates suck (lil angst, fluff, 🦇)

nightmare (fluff, 🦇)

bad days and library floors (fluff, 🦇)

a cold and a movie night (fluff, 🦇)

nap time (fluff, 🦇)

periods (fluff, 🦇)

snow (fluff, 🎀🦇💕)

grey days at christmas time (fluff, 🎀🦇💕)

new years (fluff, 🎀🦇💕)

midnight ride (fluff, 💕)

the one where they stop being idiots (fluff, headcanons, 💕)

sleepy in the library (fluff, 💕)

sunday mornings (fluff, 💕)

when Azriel has a nightmare (angst, fluff, 💕)

date night (fluff, 💕)

to warm up, one needs a shower. and Az. (fluff, 💕)

another drabble with Az and his motorcycle. (fluff, 💕)

when for a change, Azriel is the one in need of cuddles (fluff, 💕)

autumn days (fluff, 💕, 🦇)

mini headcanon - fighting (💕🦇)

🦇 = roommate!batboys centered

💕 = roommate!batboys!Azriel centered

🎀 = roommate!batboys christmas centered

mood boards ✨️

starshine

starshine mood board by @verena9003

starshine mood board

starshine aesthetic

dark faerie aesthetic

playlists

starshine ✨️

I don't take requests. sorry, loves, but most of the time, I can barely deal with needing to get my own ideas all exactly right. *hides behind laptop*

if you want to be on any taglist, hit me up - just comment or shoot me an ask or a message!

minors get outta here

[webslingingslasher]

banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

because of the character count (145,091) and tumblrs format skills (it's shit) i had to adjust some sizing but i wanted all of this in one part.

CHAPTER ONE: BRUJA

PETER PARKER’S FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH 

Steve Jobs is lucky he’s dead. 

Because if he wasn’t, he’d have to deal with a pissed off Peter Parker woken up with a brooding hangover by the screeches of marimba. 

Peter wasn’t sure whose idea it was to throw a goodbye summer bash the night before classes started but he wishes them death. A ‘goodbye summer' party, what a dumb fucking idea. It’s college, every day is summer. If he’s picked up anything from being with the frat for two years it’s that they’ll make up any excuse to party. 

International Women’s Day? Guys can only get in if they’re half naked. 

Valentine’s Day? Singles dress as cupid, couples in red and pink. 

Friday the 13th? Horror movie character costumes only. 

St. Patrick's Day? That’s what those guys lived for. 

It didn’t matter what it was, if there was cause for celebration and drinking, it was going to be a party. Trying to ease a headache he rubbed his temples, it did nothing and proved useless when someone banging a spoon and pot in the kitchen made his ears ring. 

“Chapter meeting! Chapter meeting! Chapter-” Peter yelled as loud as he could, “shut the fuck up!” His head throbbed.

God, he fucking hated the start of the year, all the new people coming in sucking up to him and everyone else in the frat. The secondary members used it to their advantage, most of the officers didn’t impress easily, only using them when they felt like laughing at someone desperately trying to please. 

He had to redo the entire budget, and had to run through the same health and safety meeting that would get ignored, and then he’d have to get physical when someone pushed the rules a little too far. 

Peter had a hangover from hell and almost gagged getting up from bed, shuffling towards his bedroom door in just sweatpants. Yawning and scratching at his scalp as he walked down the stairs, he made the routine walk to the meeting room door that was open, a hidden room behind a bookcase, only chapter officers allowed. 

The room was dark, a gigantic oak table took up the center of the room, black leather chairs surrounded. The frats name and logo grinded into the middle. A pool table in one corner, a bar in the back and several leather couches. Peter took his seat and nodded at his friend next to him, the chapter president paced the front of the room with notes, when the last guy entered the door was shut behind him. 

“Welcome to the hunt boys, we waited all year for this.” 

Trent Simpson, chapter president. Deep alumni, the fraternity in his family for generations. 

“Before we start the meeting, please state who you are and your role on the board. Obviously, I’m Trent Simpson, your president.”

“Matt Paul, chapter vice president.” 

“Nick Aaron, secretary.” 

“Ethan Keznek, sergeant-at-arms.” 

“Peter Parker, treasurer and health and safety officer.” 

“Tarrent Bakner, recruitment chairman.” 

“James Hasco, housing officer.” 

“Booker Thomas, membership development.” 

Trent clapped his hands and motioned to the black folder everyone had. “Welcome to the first meeting of our rushing season for Sigma Nu. In each of your folders you’ll see our potential new members, if you don’t see anyone you like, time to tell me is now.” 

Peter eyed the page, only one thing set him off. Ted and Harry Linus, twins. He hated twins, last year he had gotten put in the middle of so many fights he swore he’d never let twins back in his house. 

Peter’s hand jotted up, clicking his pen quickly. “Nix the twins.” Trent crossed out the names with a sharpie, “nixed.” 

“Next are the outline of our weeks with the rush, and hazing schedules. Parker, I want you and Keznek to print up the chapter handbooks.” Ethan held his fist up towards Peter, he tapped his knuckles on his and looked over the schedule. 

“Finally, and this is a new one. I acquired a friend that can get some hard to get info really easily, so what you see in front of you is every fraternity's event.” 

Interesting, that’s a pretty hard thing to get your hands on, let alone fifteen. Fraternity events were highly competitive, and if they had every event in their back pocket they could be number one. 

Peter fought back a yawn, he wanted nothing more than another two hours of sleep. But his day began here, in a chapter officer meeting, on a Tuesday, with a hangover and only time to prepare for class. God, he really didn’t want to go to class today. He can barely remember what he signed up for. 

“... again, that’ll be next Tuesday, and like usual, freshman welcome on Friday. Any more questions before we close?” 

Booker’s hand goes up, “what about the sororities?” 

“Great question, we’ll only be circling with Zeta and Omega.” 

Peter nods approvingly, that’s nice to hear. Last year they partnered with four sororities and even the party guys were getting a little overwhelmed. It sucked they had to use the frat houses for parties but they chipped in and bought way better alcohol, not to mention all the fucking girls, it was truly pick of the litter. 

Matt Paul shoots out, “can we please promise each other right now we won’t have another Sara situation?” 

There was a reason Peter had two positions, Logan Leeman freaked out when Sara Niks dumped him. Actually went full blown nuts and had to be carted off in an ambulance, no one’s heard from him since. 

“God that was awful, I mean, he knew the chick for what, four months?” 

Peter nodded absentmindedly at Nick’s comment, disconnecting from the conversation and running numbers through his head. His attention was brought back when Trent smacked his gavel on the soundblock. 

“We’re back baby, and it’s open fucking season. One, two, three,” 

The brotherhood chanted, “Sig Nu!” 

—------------

Peter’s rinsing shampoo out of his hair when someone bangs on his bathroom door, he calls out over the rushing water, “yeah?” 

“Hey, some of the guys and I are gonna hit up the food hall before we gotta split, you down?” 

He can’t lie, the dining hall is damn good. He’s missed the breakfast burritos, and Linda. She’s been working in the kitchen at the university for over twenty years, he got to talking to her one day and now goes out of his way to give her a hello. He can’t wait to catch up and tell her all about his summer, and fuck, he’d kill for an orange juice. Oh god, he has to do so much grocery shopping. 

“Yeah, give me ten minutes!” As if on command his stomach growls, he’s reminded of his hangover and he has physics in two hours. At least the shower’s warm. It’s his saving grace. 

University has been good on Peter, he looks like he belongs; top dog on campus feels good. He fills out his frat tee better this year, spidey working double time this summer to make up for the slow six months he’s about to have. Heather gray and red detailing, his pants black, and a signature white snapback. He should’ve gotten a haircut, but he chose to drink like an idiot. The night was fun though, it was worth it in the moment. 

Taking a final glance, Peter tucks the chain around his neck into his shirt, and takes a deep breath before his first day of his junior year starts. 

He’s ready.

—----------------

“Did anyone see Trevor slam his head against the wall last night or was that just me?” 

“You mean Lopes?” Peter really wishes he was around to see that. 

Hasco is on level ten, Peter’s convinced he’s off a bump or two of coke, he’s just a tad too twitchy for his liking. “Bro, he just bounced that fucker off the wall. Stared at me and did it. No fucking reason. He’s fucking crazy.” 

Peter snorts, “why, was he off the powder?” He bites down on his bottom lip when his friends toss him around by his shoulders giving soft ‘oo’s’ at his jab. Hasco flips him the bird, “even if he was, that’s fucked up, right?” 

Keznek follows up, “you think he’d do it again if i asked?” 

Nick pipes up, “ten down on yes,” Tarrent raises a finger, “coked up or sober?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Tarrent nods, “fair enough.” 

Peter cuts through the bullshit, “can we please talk about Simpson and the fucking list this year? Thirty two people is such bullshit, at this point it’s just a dick measuring contest with Alpha Delta.” 

Hasco sniffs as he nods his head, “yeah, not to mention all the fucking shuffling. Too many people for no reason, especially because we’re cutting twelve almost immediately.” Nick scoffs, “you’re telling me, I have to keep track of every motherfucker going in and out.” 

Peter’s best friend lets out a refreshing sigh, “I got the best job, I just make sure Tarrent does his job.” Hasco barks back, “shut the fuck up, Keznek.” 

“If I may, I have the worst out of all of you combined. I have to keep track of every fucking receipt, everyone’s dues, every god damn bill. Then I get to sit around and try to teach consent to a bunch of brain dead eighteen year olds.” 

“And safety! Don’t forget all the fights you had to break up last year.” 

It’s just so fucking tiring sometimes, but he’s the reason he and the entire frat have a place to sleep. “Thanks for the reminder, Nick.” Nick claps his shoulder, “anytime, bud.” Tarrent starts humming, “I’m getting so much food, you have no idea.” 

“I’m doubling down on burritos.” 

Ethan sucks in a breath, “me too.” 

Tarrent opens the doors to the dining hall and voices explode, overlapping chatter from every corner. It pierced through his ears and stabbed at his headache, Hasco sniffs and nods his head impressively, “fuck yeah,” bumping Peter’s shoulder when he walked in. 

“Jesus fucking christ.”

 Ethan holds back a chuckle at Peter’s audible mumble, choosing to mock Hasco instead, nodding at Peter walking by, “fuck yeah, man.” 

Peter nods towards Paul, sitting at a table with his girlfriend and who he assumes are her friends, he doesn’t care enough to actually look. Paul barely gives him a wave between inhaling his burrito, he’s gotten three, meaning he has to do an impressive four, unless Tarrents goes for four, then he’s maxing out at five. 

Things you learn in a frat, it’s the little things that mean the most dominance wise. 

He hangs at the back of the line so he can catch up with his favorite lunch lady on campus, until the closer he gets he can’t see her. Moving his head back and forth but coming up short he assumes she’s in the kitchen. She usually worked the register in the morning and afternoon, but he supposes new year, a new schedule.

Peter slides through the line with six breakfast burritos and a fruit cup, because it’s all about balance. Giving that deathly smile to his second favorite lunch lady, “hey, Mrs. Zoe. How was your summer?” 

Sweat dots her forehead, “hot and long, how about yours, honey?” He can’t complain much, he actually took it slow. “Pretty good, hey, um, is Linda around?” Peter doesn’t know what it is but he knows it’s bad by the way Zoe’s face drops, she looked younger than she was, until she was full frowning, then she looked every bit of sixty. 

“You didn’t hear?” Peter’s scared to say no but still shakes his head. 

“Oh, shit. She dropped a pot on her foot just the right way and shattered the whole thing. She ran out of time off and was let go.” 

Peter feels everything in him shake with rage. 

Linda took care of him for the past two years of his life, and worked harder than he ever has in his entire life. She dedicated decades of her life to this place, an institution built on community, until one got hurt. Linda made sure that even if he was away from home, he was still fed with love. She talked to him, they formed a bond, he asked about her granddaughter all the time, her husband was sick, she was supporting the house, now what? 

“They fired her?” He’s full of pain and anger but his voice comes out timid. 

Mrs. Zoe nods her head solemnly, Peter looks at his tray, he’s not so hungry anymore knowing Linda didn’t make a thing on it. Suddenly six burritos seem daunting. 

“Is she okay?” That’s all that mattered. He had to fix this, he wasn’t sure how yet but it’s his personal mission to get her back where she belonged. 

“She’s still healing up but I guess the university gave her a nice severance package, so she’ll be okay for a while.” 

The line’s starting to back up, “do you think I could get her number? I’ll come back for lunch and get it, if you think that’s okay.” 

A beaming smile, she looks young again, her eyes crinkle and it shows her joy. “I think she’d love that. I’ll get it for you.” Even if he’s mad, he gives her a polite smile, “thanks, Mrs. Zoe.” 

Peter’s heart races as he walks away, the situation swirling in his mind, how fucked it all was. He doesn’t care if they gave her a severance package, she got hurt at work. They should’ve held her job, they should’ve given her a break for the first time in over twenty years. 

How could he fix this? Maybe he could get the frat to do a petition, if they sign it then most of the school would get on board. Or shit, what if they go on protest? Do they sit in strike until they give in to the demand? What if he gets- 

“So sorry!” 

Peter stopped himself from stumbling any further, caught off guard and in the midst of a breakdown he took it out on the assaulter. He doesn’t care if it was an accident, he’s not hard to miss, they just weren’t looking, or paying attention. 

And he can see why, big doe eyes blinking at him. Like they’ve never seen an adult man, as if his presence alone was enough to send them into fight or flight. There’s one reason and one reason only, and it’s written all over their face. 

“Fucking freshman,” he hates them like no other, last year was enough to paint them in a negative light forever. They were babies, new to drinking, new to being on their own, new to parting. And the entitlement was off a new chart level, they thought they were the big dogs because they finally reached adulthood. 

The kind of entitlement that sent them running into people three times their size. 

The girl's face changed, she went from frightened to pissed in under three seconds. It almost impressed him, her eyes narrowed as she looked him directly in the eye. For a second he felt challenged, like someone he had to nearly look down on had equal footing against him. All from a freshman no less. 

Her words hit directly, she packed a punch behind them and meant each word as they spewed. 

“I hope you fucking choke.” 

Peter was left speechless, watching her stomp off, while slowly approaching the table his friends occupied. Hasco and Keznek bickering back and forth, which was pointless, Hasco always has to have the last word. 

“Explain this one to me,” he immediately caught attention. 

“Some freshman knocked into me, almost made me drop everything, then told me she hoped I’d choke. I mean, what the fuck?” 

Peter has to look away when Tarrent spews his idea, egg dropping from his mouth. 

“She wants to fuck you bro.” Sometimes his stupidity hurts, “what? It was a twenty second interaction and she told me to die.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it always starts.” 

The table goes quiet, Ethan’s the first to speak. “Tarrent, I think you should sit in on Parker’s health and safety course for a refresher.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

—------------------------

Peter thinks he’s a little too hungover and it’s a little too early for him to focus on mechanics and math, so he chooses to look over his syllabus and yawn. 

His year was littered with hard classes, approaching the end of his major and now everything counted. The pressure was on, he was prepared to make this his year. He was done with the little kid shit, it was time he got serious and put his future first.

 How boring of him, he was going to need Ethan to help bounce him back. 

Peter’s first and only class of the day was intro to quantum mechanics, having to sit through that much math and theory made his already pounding headache increase tenfold. Taking a harsh inhale he pulled out his phone for the brother’s group chat, hiding his phone in his lap while his new professor droned on.

‘Who’s fucking idea was this party? I’m dying rn.’ 

‘Blame Paul.’

‘that’d be pauly.’ 

‘Keznek emphasized ‘blame paul.’ 

‘blame me!’ 

‘Fuck you, paul.” 

Peter would be lying if it didn’t make him feel a little bit better. Still, blinking under the fluorescent lighting he wished he could wish his hangover away, he’s never felt this shitty in his life, he’s sure of it. He only had forty minutes left, all he had to do was make it through the lesson, buy his books and spend the rest of the day in bed hiding from every and all light and sound. 

It wouldn’t be a terrible year, his professor was the textbook definition of MILF. Blonde bob with streaks of gray, an hourglass figure and oval glasses. Her pantsuit hugged her curves and for a moment he thinks her husband is a lucky guy. 

Plus he was pocketed between the hottest chick on campus and some mega genius, so smart Peter was put to shame. It wouldn’t be a bad week either, after he got this girl's number and invited her over to a party. Peter politely sat through the lecture, going over the syllabus with his professor's powerpoint and writing down anything he deemed important. 

Then the hour was over and he deserved a treat. He worked hard, so now he can play hard.

Fighting through his looming hangover and using every ounce of charm, he turns his head and smiles at the girl. She had long, slick black hair and he wanted to wrap every bit of it around his fist. 

“Hey, I’m Parker.” 

She has a nice smile, and a nose ring, he wonders what else is pierced. 

“Hey, I’m Rose.” 

He’s not sure if it’s a nickname or her real name, it doesn’t matter to him, it suits her well. Peter can see a peek of a tattoo that blossomed from her chest. He wanted to unwrap her like a present and figure her out. 

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I just had to let you know I think I have the best seat partner in the whole room.” 

“I know, right? Teddy is hella smart.” Her grin tells him she knows what he meant by his comment. 

“You seem pretty smart too, maybe we should exchange numbers in case I need any help?” 

God, her smile is fucking raident. 

“Not sure my girlfriend would like that too much, Parker.” 

He exhales a breath, “oh you were waiting to say that.” 

Rose nods, “it’s always a fun bomb to drop. Nobody thinks I’m a lesbian until I say it, then I get the-” 

“I can see it.” 

Her hand raises, “point in case.” She’s still cool. And he has four months with her. 

“Let me try again. Hey, Rose, would you and your girlfriend like to come to our party on friday?” 

There’s that fucking smile. “We’d love to.” 

Peter nods his head, okay with the turn of events. “Alright, Rose, I’ll see you and…” 

“Lily,” she fills in for him. 

“Lily, how perfect. I’ll see both friday.”

Peter gathers his things and stands, his first try of the year was a swing and a miss, unless… 

“Hey, if you were straight would-” 

“My girlfriend will kill you, tread carefully, new friend.” 

Peter can’t wait to meet her, he already likes her. 

—-------------

Peter’s day just got longer or more miserable, because as he should’ve assumed, the bookstore line was wrapped around the building. If only he had given himself a head start, he could’ve done this days ago but there were other things in his personal life he had to wrap up first. 

Just so he could sit in line, under the sun, with a hangover, to buy hundreds of dollars worth of textbooks he’d never use again. 

Ray Bans rested on his nose, blocking the glare of the sun. He kept refreshing his twitter feed but was quickly bored, switching to instagram and endlessly scrolling. Liking a few pictures, his brother’s party posts, an old classmate’s ‘moving back in!’ post, a summer throwback bikini picture from a girl he’d hooked up with a few times the year prior.   

Jostling forward, Peter had to stabilize his stance. Caught off guard and his back ran into, he had to admit it just wasn’t his day. 

He scoffs as the assaulter mutters out apologies. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!” 

Turning sideways to look at the girl he gave a bitter laugh, “Jesus Christ, freshman. Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.” 

The girl in front of him looked pissed, “I said sorry, you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Peter pulled his head back and turned to face her full on. “You’re telling me about mean? You knocked into me twice and said you’d hope I fucking choke, if we’re tallying scores I’d think you’re the bully, sweetheart.” 

She huffs, “does the misogynistic shtik always work for you?” 

He holds his hand to his chest, “misogynistic, because I called you sweetheart? I’d say that’s irony, or sarcasm, because you’ve been anything but sweet.” 

“Well… maybe I’d be nicer if you were.” 

Peter’s having fun with this, she’s just shittalking him to do it, and he kinda respects that. His hands move as he speaks, emphasizing his point. “You hit me! Why do I have to be nice?” 

The girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in defense.  “I bumped you, I hope you’re majoring in acting because you could win an oscar for your dramatics.” 

His tongue pokes at his cheek, a cocky grin spreads. “Babe, I’m the best at what I do. You think I’d be here and not at Juilliard?” 

Peter won, she scoffs and opens her mouth before shutting it and spinning on her heel, turning her back on him.

“Realized you couldn’t win?” 

He turns back around, hiding a grin, fumbling for his phone in his back pocket. He opens up the ‘Captain Nu’ group chat and sends out a message. 

‘The entitlement from these freshmen gets worse every year.’ 

‘true dat. this freshie charles just got coffee all over me, i can’t wait to ruin his year.’ 

‘rip charles. never had a chance.’ 

‘@trent ally just said her friend is gonna do the ski trip after all.’ 

‘@paul, Ally’s got a friend? 👀’

‘@parker, lol, yea.’ 

‘paul is the world's worst wingman, lmaoooo.’ 

‘Of course he is, he met the girl he’s gonna marry at 16.’ 

‘@parker maybe u would too if you bothered to know their name after.’ 

‘@parker if anyone has dibs on ally’s friend it’s me. we’ve already been in talks. 🤔’ 

‘@trent, yo, tf? We’re gatekeeping now?’ 

‘@paul, invite her to the party friday. We’ll see who she wants, @trent’ 

‘🫡’ 

‘Hold on, Parker’s betting on a chick? I’m getting a lawn chair & a 12 pack rn.’ 

‘Good thing your name isn’t in the mix, isn’t it? @keznek’ 

‘ally said she’s coming, my money’s on trent, sorry parker.’ 

‘Hmmm, I dunno, Paul. Parker’s got that underdog in him.’ 

‘At least E believes in me.’

Glancing up, and noticing a gap in the line he moves up. Putting his phone back in his pocket he glances over his shoulder and peers at the girl with her gaze locked in on her phone screen. He’s learned several things while at the frat, one of the most important, you can never have too many options. 

She’d probably show up anyways, but if she was invited by him to his frat for their freshman welcome party, she’d definitely show up and if Trent wins, he’d have his bases covered. Clearing his throat and turning one eighty, Peter walked backwards to keep up in line, she followed with small steps. Smirking, he stopped quickly, her shoe toe hitting his own. 

She looked up quickly, “this one’s on me, sweetheart.” 

Her mouth opened, but he talked before she could. Before he could regret inviting her. Worst comes to worse, she’d be a good hate fuck. 

“Has anyone shown you frat row yet?” 

“I’m not-” she gives a frustrated sigh, “yes, I know where frat row is.” 

“Cool, so I’m Parker. I’m in Sigma Nu,” he gestures to the emblem on his corner pocket. “And on the first Friday of the school year we throw a freshman welcome party, you should come.” 

Peter can tell she’s trying to figure out his motive, it’s kind of cute, the way she's analyzing him. He immediately throws that idea from his head, he doesn’t find girls cute, he finds them attractive. Cute implies you want them to hang around and she’s nothing but infuriating.

“Uh huh. Sure.” Keeping watch of the line he backs up further, he’s three away from being saved from the sun.

“That’s a personal invite, babe.” 

She gasps, it smells of sarcasm. “My goodness, in that case I must show! How else will I know my worth when I watch you make out with another girl across the house?” 

That stumbles him a bit, not used to his game being called outright. Even if that was something that might happen, being told it would happen made him feel a little shitty. 

“That’s not at all what I-” 

Her hand stops him, “you have backup plan written all over your face, I think the summer made you lose some of that frat boy edge.” 

He just met this chick, after she threw herself into him twice, and now she’s telling him who he is? God damn, the entitlement is reeking from every orifice. 

“You-” 

“Line.”

He had to accept the loss and enter the store, but the second he saw her at his party, he’d throw in a few choice words. Remind the freshman who was on top. 

He was Peter Parker and he was the treasure and health and safety officer, and this was his fucking year. Hangovers and all.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH. 

Peter’s looking at a house across from him, it’s a faded yellow with maroon shutters. A plethora of flowers covered the base foundation, the grass was a little long, definitely a few weeks since the last cut. 

It looked like a home. 

He could picture a series of generations passing in and out the front door, it was a small house but the love he felt looking at it felt big. Peter felt just as much love for the woman inside the house, stepping over cracks in the concrete he knocked on the door and looked down at his feet while he ran lines through his head. 

A growing smile took over when the door cracked open, frizzy gray hair poked through. When Linda caught sight of him the door swung open, her arms went right around him, squeezing him with all her might. 

“Peter! Oh my goodness, I thought I wouldn’t see you again! I was going to send you a letter but you beat me to it!” Joy filled his heart, Peter wrapped his arms around her shoulders and laughed. “Mrs. Zoe helped me, I thought she’d call you. Guess not.” 

Linda gave him a parting squash before cupping his cheeks, “she knew I’d love the surprise.” She looks behind her, “wanna come in for some tea?” He took her up on the offer, he needed to let her know that he and the school needed her and he was willing to do whatever he could to get her back where she belonged. 

A blue oriental rug ran from the front door into the kitchen. Peter dropped his backpack by an entrance table and kicked his shoes off. While he looked around at the family pictures stretched across the walls he felt something rub against his legs, a scratchy meow followed. 

Peter looked down at an orange crusty cat, his heart melted. He wasted no time in picking them up and curling them to his chest, “is this Nelly?” Linda turned and smiled at her cat butting her head against Peter’s hand, “yes, she’s an attention grabber. Now you’ve held her, she'll expect it every visit.” 

As he followed Linda he looked deeper into the home, his stomach tugged when he looked into a bedroom off from the living room, an old man lying still in a hospital bed, three full IV bags hanging off a medical pole. 

The sun was coming through the kitchen window creating a sunspot, a sleeping chihuahua was soaking it up. 

“Teeny?” He already knew the answer.

 Linda bent down to pet the old dog, she mumbles while Teeny licks at her nose. “Yes, tú eres mi cariño, isn’t that right?” The cat in Peter’s hold pushed at his chest, a guttural meow while she looked at her food bowl. 

Setting her down, he looked back up to a young female standing by a cabinet, she seemed vaguely familiar. She looked a little flustered, and brushed down her shirt to prove it could fit better. 

“Hi.” Peter took a shot in the dark, “Hey, Kat. Nice braids.” 

Her face exploded in a smile, a faint blush crossed her cheeks. “You remember me?” 

“Yeah, I think we met my first year, you went…” 

“...to work with my grandma after I got in trouble that summer!” She finished for him. 

Linda moved around the small area, setting a bright red kettle on the stove. 

“You were what, fifteen?” Kat’s face went neutral, “I’m eighteen now, Peter.” Kat crossed her arms, subtly pushing her cleavage up. She’s pretty, but she’s too young for him, she can try to make it happen all she wants but he respects Linda too much. 

“Kathrine, go let Teeny out.” It seems like Linda doesn’t want it to happen either. 

“But-” Kat flinches when Linda points a wooden spoon at her, “you dare question me in my own home? Desagradecida!” Her granddaughter hangs her head and slowly passes Peter, going out of her way to brush against his shoulder, he lets her have it. 

The second the porch door slides shut Linda points the spoon at him, “not gonna happen, frat boy. Comprende?” Peter holds his hands up, “comprendido, comprendido!” A smile forms, crinkles by her eyes shows Peter she’s no real threat. 

“Green or herbal?” 

Peter glances at a pouty Kat in the backyard, it brings him back to his early teens. It makes him slightly chuckle, she’d be fine, the first rejection always hurts the most. 

“Green, please.” 

Peter’s been on a roll, spewing everything he thinks she needs to hear about his summer and upcoming school year. She’s nodding along and asking questions when an alarm starts beeping, she jumps from her seat and holds out an arm. “Be right back.” When she tucks herself into the bedroom her husband’s in, Peter feels a little sick. 

It’s the elephant in the room when she returns, she sits back in the teal chair across from him and tosses hair behind her shoulder. Linda’s hands wrap around her mug, steam billows when she blows on the rim. She gives him a knowing smirk, “you want to ask about Ronaldo, don’t you?” 

Peter feels shy, he does want to make sure she’s okay, but also knows it’s not something to really bring up. “Is he okay?” It’s a dumb question, he has to hold back on wincing when she shakes her head. “No. He’s comfortable for now, and he’s home. That’s all he ever wanted while he was in the hospital.” 

He swallows thickly, “is he in hospice?” Linda grabs his hand, “he is. It’s been hard, but we’ve made every decision together. He gave me and our family his best years, I think it’s time I take the brunt.” 

She wears a sad smile, but Peter can still see how strong she is underneath. Patting his hand she follows up like she knows where he’s going. 

“And I am very thankful I get to spend our last moments together by his side. I know it seems like bad luck, but that damn pot put me where I needed to be.” Peter’s smile is faulty, “so, you can’t be swayed into coming back?” 

“No, cariño. I can’t.” 

“But it feels so unfair! They should’ve given you something.” 

Linda clicks her tongue at him, “trust me, mi amor, I know what unfair is. And what happened was a grace of God. I get to watch my husband peacefully pass, and I get to spend the rest of my life watching my family grow. I can finally go see my great grandchildren in Mexico, my life is anything but unfair. ” 

If there’s anyone he wants the best for it’s Linda, and if she sees it as a blessing he could too. He takes a moment, “so, the severance package was good?” 

Linda scoffs, “if you call twenty five years pay at once good, then it’s good.” 

It was everything Peter needed to hear.

Peter finishes off his tea, “I’m still gonna miss you, Linda. No one can make a breakfast burrito like you. Or cut fruit! You should’ve seen the slices of cantaloupe, not one uniform cut!” 

A warm hand is cupped around his cheek, “you come by anytime for a meal. I know you’re local, but if you ever need a mom, a place to lay low, or an open door with no questions asked, you know where I am.” 

It brings tears to his eyes, he blinks fast, chuckling when a tear drops. Peter wipes at it with his sleeve, “I’m really, really, gonna miss you.” 

“You won’t miss me too much, you’ll be coming by every Wednesday for breakfast. Comprende?” 

Peter blows a sharp breath before laughing, “comprendido.” 

—--------------------

Spider-Man pats his tummy looking over the skyline. 

Linda made him a full cast iron of Huevos Rancheros, and when his eyes widened at the size she laughed and said, “What? You suddenly lost your appetite over the summer?” He had not, and ate the entire thing. 

Peter wishes he took up her offer to sleep on the couch while she watches reruns of ‘La Patrona.’ He politely declined, but tortillas and spicy eggs mixing in his stomach made him wish he was taking a nap.

He feels lead in his gut as he swings across the street, too sluggish to fight; he holds out a hand to stop a runaway bike thief. He went flying over the handlebars at an extreme speed, Spider-Man just watched and shrugged. 

An eight year old appeared, throwing his arms around Spider-Man and squeezing. Peter lets out a squeak, “alright, Spidey had a little too many eggs for breakfast-” the kid backs away and stares in amazement. 

“No way! I had eggs for breakfast too!” 

“Look at us, coupla egg eating guys.” 

The kid hugs him again, a panicked mother catches up. “Jacob! You can’t run away from me like-” Jacob bounces as he screams, “Mom! Mom! Spider-Man saved my bike! And, and, and guess what! He had eggs for breakfast too!” 

Sometimes the pure excitement of who he was made the shitty parts of his job manageable. 

“That’s awesome, honey! But you really can’t run away from mom like that.” 

Spider-Man crouches to Jacob’s height, and nods at his mom. “You know what I did when I was eight?” Jacob’s eyes grow wide, “no, what?!” 

“I listened to my mom. And I ate all my vegetables.” 

“Woah.” The child turns to his mom, she gives a knowing look to Spider-Man. “Mom! We have to go get broccoli!” She smiles at her son, “sure thing, buddy.” Holding his bike steady he takes mount, she mouths a thank you and Spider-Man waves her off. 

Jacob gives a parting salute, “bye, Spider-Man!” 

Peter feels like he’s going to puke when he takes flight, he thinks for a second, then starts heading east.

May doesn’t mind that he stopped by for a mid-morning nap. 

—---------------------------

After running through the budget four times, Peter’s positive he’s got the first two weeks handled.

Then, he’d have to rework the entire thing weekly until the final placements were made. And he still has that powerpoint to re-touch, after last year he had quite a few things to add to his health and safety presentation. 

Oh, and the chapter handbooks. That only took up an entire afternoon, even with two people working it. And grocery shopping tonight, he might be able to strong arm Ethan into going with him. 

Not to mention how he doubled up on physics this year, just because he’s gotten used to self-atonement.  

Everything was fine, it wasn’t like he was stressed already. 

Peter waited until the last minute, but he burned more time than necessary and finally pushed himself from his desk chair to go to the chapter’s private quarters, a meeting with Trent mandatory. 

It’s nothing too personal on Trent, but he just doesn’t like him. There wasn’t a real reason, just a general dislike. He was a bit too frat boy for him, although it makes sense, he’s the president, he’s had to make it his entire personality. But still, his subtle misogyny and hint of alpha male made Peter keep his distance. 

Checking for the fifth time, Peter opens the hidden door and slides in. 

“Parker!” 

“What’s up, Simpson?” 

Trent looks up grinning, his eyes clocking the folder in Peter’s hand. “Got my reports?” Peter hands over the folder, Trent opens it immediately and looks it over, nodding impressively at the number. 

“Thirty two recruits and you did this magic? I think I’ll keep you around, Parker. Speaking of, where are we on the shopping?” 

Peter wants to grit his teeth, when Trent said he was treasurer and everything money related would be run through him, he wasn’t exaggerating. “I have late classes tomorrow, so I’ll go tonight. I’m gonna get together with Tarrent and see what’s on the menu, plan around that.” 

Trent nods approvingly, “he’s on strict recruitment duty the next two days, so keep it short. We’ve doubled PNM's.” 

Peter keeps a straight face, “yeah, I know.” 

Trent picks up a tilt, “got a problem with it, Parker?” 

There’s that alpha, the subtle shift of dominance that runs rapidly in a house full of testosterone. 

“Not one, Simpson. It’s like you said, it’s open fucking season.” That makes him proud, “you’re damn right, baby. Now go fill up my fridge.” 

Peter nods, “I’ll check with Bakner and get Keznek to come with me. Anything else?” 

“Yes! I forgot, I’m thinking this year you do the health and safety for everyone. Not just the new recruits. I think some of these newer guys need to be reminded of what this campus and frat really stands for.” 

And Peter thinks that’s a really good idea. Maybe Trent wouldn’t be that awful this year. 

“Oh, Parker, one more thing?” One more thing, that’s fine, he doesn’t have enough on his plate. 

“Yeah?” 

“Harvey’s coming back on Friday, make sure he’s got a spot set up in here.” 

“I’ll make Hasco do it, he’s the housing officer.” Trent must not like his tone, “I know who Hasco is, Parker. Just do what I fucking say.” 

Okay, he might be awful this year. 

“Sure, yeah, you got it. Anything else,” your highness? He added in his head. 

“Tell Paul I need to meet with him, this Ally shit is annoying. He needs to know what he’s committed to.” 

His girlfriend, he’s committed to his girlfriend. And since she’s a human being, she takes priority over a frat house but Trent can’t wrap his thick skull around the idea of it. 

“Got it.” 

God bless the woman that ever puts up with that.

—--------------------

Three sheets of notebook paper, that’s how long the shopping list was. 

Tarrent was prepared and that was appreciated. Instead of having to sit around while he scrambled to prepare something, when Peter knocked on his door and asked about the groceries all he was granted was a grunt and an arm shoving out crumpled printer paper. 

Peter and Ethan walked down the cereal aisle side by side, each had a half full cart. 

“So, I was thinking about the Salander sisters. You think they’d hate me if I went after both and took the one that chooses me?”

Peter grabs six cereal boxes off the shelf, tossing the stack in his cart, he crosses off another item on the list, He’s only got two and a quarter pages left, next time, he’s bringing the pledges. 

“Aren’t they twins?” 

Ethan corrects him, “Irish twins, there’s a difference.” His attention drifted to where his best friend’s pointing, “fruit roll ups, twelve of ‘em. Which one are you trying first?” Ethan shakes his head piling cardboard and throwing it in his cart. “As if it’s a question, obviously it’s Sara.”

“I thought you were more into Sam,” cause he swore he was, “oatmeal, four of each flavor.” 

Ethan speaks over his shoulder, quaker oats sailing, Peter catching each one. “Until she picked you to kiss during that stupid card game.” 

Peter remembers, he apologized to Ethan after too. Ethan wouldn’t hear it, it wasn’t Peter’s fault he was picked, and Ethan made sure he knew it. Sam kissed him, Sam chose him, and he wasn’t owed any real loyalty, they’d only chatted a few times at a few different parties. 

Still, that night had left a bad taste in Ethan’s mouth and she shot to the bottom of his list real fast. Peter had never spoken to her before that night, but Ethan had. And she still chose Peter. 

‘I wanted to tell her no but then I'm the asshole.’ 

‘Dude, forget about it. It’s not like you stepped on any toes, if anything, you got a hookup tonight.’ 

It was tempting, but it was an unspoken agreement that any girl the other one liked, was off limits. So, he never even tried. 

“If it helps, she was a bad kisser. It was wet.”

Ethan shudders, “not sloppy?” 

Peter doubles down, “wet.”

“Do you think Sara’s the same way? Cause I can’t do sloppy kisses.” Raising a finger, Peter corrects him, making his way to the dairy section. “Wet, Keznek, it was wet.” 

“If you think a kiss was wet, what are the chances she also-” 

Peter cuts him off, “no, we’re not going there.” 

“Boo, no fun, how much milk do we need?” 

“A gallon of literally everything.” 

“We’re going to be here forever, I have moves to make, Parker.” 

A snort, “oh yeah? What’s on the radar for tonight?” 

“I don’t know yet, I’m stuck in a grocery store. 

Ethan is such a whiner, he’d do anything you asked but was a martyr through and through. 

Peter’s got it the worst and he’s not complaining, he could, but it wouldn't do anything. He’s got triple the load Ethan has, all he had to do was sit back and make sure the chapter officers were doing their job. 

At least he helps pass the time, and cuts the job in half. 

“So, I hit on a lesbian today.” 

Ethan almost stops breathing, “no way, where at? You think I could get a copy of the security footage?” 

—-----------------

At his current point in time, Peter had no idea what time it was, and he was only sure of three things. 

He had late classes tomorrow and could sleep in, Hasco put on the weirdest movie known to man, he still can’t tell if it’s in english, and he was absolutely baked. It was a new level of toasted, his arms were like noodles on his sides, limp and lifeless. Peter swears he can hear his eyelids blink, or it was Tarrent eating sunflower seeds. 

Peter’s slump against the back of the couch between Ethan and Tarrent, on Tarrent’s right was Hasco. The first, and only, sign of life from Ethan was him slowly slouching more and more until he was leaning on Peter’s shoulder, he assumes it’s to ground him because he’s allowing it for the same reason. 

Hasco’s giggling madly, slapping on his knee while the other three are locked on the screen. 

“We are so fucking high, you know how I know?” 

Peter looks to Tarrent to answer for the crowd, he supplies a ‘hmph,’ between spitting kernels. 

“I just remembered this movie is in portuguese.” 

“Oh.” It’s all Peter could get out, somehow, he understands it more than before. Tarrent is impressively loud, “even if it was in ASL shit would suck. This is like The Fast and The Furious meets Twilight.” 

“Bro, I know! Isn’t it fucking sick?” 

Peter blinks, he can look but can’t see, zoned out in a world of blank space. Ethan wheezes on Peter’s left, even out of his mind he can’t miss a shot at Hasco, “fucking sick.” 

In two days it would be the real start of the year, once the first party of the year commenced, they would never stop. It always felt like there were a million people in the house when the year started, it goes from pledges to recruits and back to members. Then you have friends and girlfriends and sororities, every night there would be at least twenty people downstairs drinking. 

It was a rare moment for the frat house to be so quiet and everyone was enjoying it, the calm before the storm. Peter thinks he’s enjoying it, but he’s also surfing the ozone layer. 

“You guys wanna get pizza?” 

Tarrent is a fucking tank, it’s seriously impressive. 

“Do you know how much money we spent at the grocery store today? Fuck no, make a sandwich.” Ethan smacks his arm, “make it two, no, three, I want one too.” Peter’s so glad Tarrent’s playing nice tonight, he actually stands and nods at the couch crew, “my boys want a BLT?” 

Not that he needs to say it, but it was the best fucking BLT of his life. 

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

It was always a good day when you wake up before your alarm and realize you have a few more hours to sleep. Mornings like that make Peter feel more energized than eating a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans, a habit he has far too often. 

At ten thirty he couldn’t sleep anymore, throwing his sheets off him and standing with a yawn, scratching his thigh while his eyes watered. He would take a shower, hit up the dining hall with whoever lingered in the house still, then think about thermodynamics. 

His schedule, made while he was in the thick of a concussion from his spidey summer, made him sick. The classes alone made him want to eat a brick, but the days and times he chose fucked him up. His entire week was up and down. Monday he had two classes, Tuesday he had one, Wednesday he had none, Thursday he had one class and for god knows what reason, blocked his lab and lecture back to back on Friday. 

At least it was every other week, two Fridays out of the month he had nothing to do, which was pretty nice. With a big stretch and another yawn, Peter walked to his bathroom and started the shower, his boxers flying to the sink. 

The hot water felt good, his mind raced about the party the next night, how he’d be up most of the night moving things around, and how he had a lab-lecture combo. 

All he knew was that he had some fine opportunities coming up and he’d be dumb to have his bed empty tomorrow night. 

—-------------------

Belgian waffles were the only thing on Peter’s mind, the rest of his day could melt into whatever bullshit that needed to happen so he could carry on to another day. But first, he needed waffles. 

It was a whole bar, a set up of freshly made waffles and toppings galore. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, maple syrup, sprinkles, butter, chopped pecans, and that was just what was on his. 

Peter was double plating, two hands, two plates. Each one had two waffles dressed to the nines, Tarrent following behind with his own. 

“Wanna sit with Paul?” 

Yuck, he was at his girlfriend's table. Ally was nice and pretty cool, but everything he’s learned about her has been against his will. Sometimes she pulls the girlfriend card a little too much, and it really only annoys him when Paul has to drop everything for her. But, for the past two years he’s known her, he can say that Ally was a perfect fit for Paul. 

“Fuck no, that freshman is over there.” She was, when he looked back to confirm, their eyes locked. Peter wasn’t backing down, not after that last interaction. Her eyes focused in on him, he doesn’t know why but his knees felt weak, suddenly he thinks she’s a witch. It wouldn’t be far-fetched, she’s evil, hates men, and makes him feel weird things. Plus, he’s Spider-Man, so they could exist, right? 

It was a staring contest, until Ally caught on to her friend looking at something, when she turned her head to look back the girl stopped her. Reaching out and breaking eye contact, she played like she was in a daze, laughing at something Paul said. 

It was weird, she was weird. Peter couldn’t choose between staying away and getting closer. 

“-Are you even listening to me? God, bro, it’s chill if you like the freshman. You can talk to her, no one will care.” Peter was snapped back to life, “she’s weird and keeps showing up.” Plastic plates click against the table top, the chairs screeching to life. Tarrent flops down, scraping his teeth across his fork when he takes a bite. He’s got a terrible habit of talking while eating, “does she keep showing up or are you just noticing her?”

“I just met the girl, Bakner. I don’t even know her name, how could I notice her?” 

“Maybe cause you want to know her name, Parker.” 

Tarrent doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sure, she may have caught his attention a little and sure, he might have invited her to the party with the intention of possibly getting into her pants. But that has nothing to do with wanting to know her name or anything. He doesn’t care about girls like that.  

Peter still misses his favorite lunch lady but the waffles were really good this morning. 

He pulls a Tarrent and talks while cheeking his bite, “she bumped into me, several times. And was mean about it, why would I want to know her?” 

“Maybe she likes you, ever think about that, dingus?” 

Well, not really. She doesn’t even know him, how could she like him? The school year just started, unless he’s got a stalker walking around… or a witch.

“Someone taught you the word maybe once and you haven’t stopped using it since.” 

A grin full of bacon, “maybe.” 

Peter can’t stop himself from asking, “why do you think she likes me?” Tarrent’s fork clatters to his plate, “knew it.” 

“Knew what?” 

“I knew you liked her.” 

“I don’t know her! She’s the one that- we’re talking in circles, Bakner!” 

Tarrent pats Peter’s shoulder, which he shakes off and mumbles insults about Tarrent’s IQ level. “You know what, Parker? I think this is the year you get a girlfriend.” 

Peter stares his friend in the eye while he chews and swallows, “eat shit, Bakner.” 

—---------------------

“Welcome to thermodynamics. This is a fast paced, no frills, no bullshit class. If you cannot handle that, you will be left behind. This is a hands-on class, and I have high standards for everyone in here. If you do not follow my rules, you’ll be excluded and shunned from the rest of us. I’m Dr. Octavius, I’ll be your professor for the next fifteen weeks and it is my honor to teach you the fun in thermodynamics.”

This guy was absolutely not fucking around, he was all business and execution. Or as Peter likes to call these people, too smart for their own good. He earns his respect immediately, he’s the type of teacher that would get under his skin and push him to his extreme limits. Those are his favorite kinds. 

“I want each of you to look at the person on your left and right,” the class pauses, but he encourages them to do so. Peter looks at the guys next to him, one looks like a deer in headlights, the other looks more like Peter, excited to be challenged. 

For a second he imagines what his reaction would be if he saw the freshman sitting next to him. It wouldn’t be possible, but he imagines how shocked he would be. And the annoyance, god, he’d be so annoyed. But a small, tiny, itty bitty, microscopic part of him would be glad to be entertained. 

She’s not even around and he’s annoyed thinking about her. 

Why was he thinking about her? Why is she in his mind? Why is he imagining his reaction to her? 

She’s a witch. No other explanation. 

Peter shakes her from his mind and refocuses. 

Dr. Octavius nods at the group, “yes, good, good commit them to memory,” A few people start chatting, and he seems all for it, until his hand raises and everyone silences. “Now, immediately forget them.” 

Even if it wasn’t audible, he could hear everyone choke.

“Because, thirty percent of you will not be here by the sixteenth. If you want to drop my class, do it by then, if not, you’ll be charged for the semester and I won’t hear your sob story.” 

Ice cold. This is the best professor he’s ever had, he has a few more to meet but no way they would compare. This guy could tell Peter to go lay in a bath of acid because he’s not worth the surface matter he’s wasting to exist and he’d lay down for him. 

“I hope everyone here knows what thermodynamics are, if not, you’ve been failed by everyone around you.” He studies the room, reading each face for a moment before smiling. Pressing a button in his hand, the projector turns on, the syllabus on the screen. 

“Any questions?” 

No one raises their hand.

—-----------------

If Peter was a rich man, and he really wished he was, he'd buy himself a nap today. Not that naps are something you can buy, but if he could pay someone to do his work for him then he could take a nap. Normally, that just means employing a pledge to the task, but he won’t have one for a few days. 

The frat pays him, which is pretty nice because it pays him more than he could make in any part time job. It’s hard to become a chapter officer, but when you make it, it’s so worth it. He’s a top dog on campus and in the house, it’s nice having power outside the suit.  

But, he couldn’t buy a nap and he had thirty two chapter handbooks to make, hopefully getting to skip out on the set up for the party the next night. He’d have to go out for booze tomorrow, but he was praying he wouldn’t have to shove furniture around. 

When Peter walked in the house door he could hear something happening in the kitchen and it wasn’t sounding good. Suddenly, Peter felt wide awake. Hasco was yelling at Booker, who was holding back his anger but the wall was faltering. 

Ethan was absolutely useless, holding a bowl of cornflakes to his chest while he watched the brewing flight. He nodded at Peter, then to Hasco spitting insults at a million miles an hour. “Fuckin sick,” the mocking never got old. 

Before he intervened he needed to know if he should, something he’s learned as a man and as someone in a frat, sometimes you just need to fight it out. 

Peter shook his backpack off and watched them bicker back and forth. It was more like a coked up Hasco on a tangent and a way too calm exterior but built with inner rage Booker listening and tightening his fist with each insult. Booker played hockey, he was an athlete on and off the field, meaning, he took all he could before exploding. 

“What’s happening?” Ethan’s in no rush to respond, drinking milk from the bowl. 

“Something that needs to happen.”  

Hasco’s about to get the absolute shit beat out of him, “he’s been screaming for five minutes, I think Booker’s gonna knock him out.” 

That’s fine with him but his blender’s right there. 

“Booker, don’t get his blood on my blender please.” It stops Hasco, but seals his fate. 

“Who-” raging bloodshot eyes on him, “who the fuck’s gonna get blood on the blender? Me? You think this fuckin guy can put his hands on me? You think he can fight me? You think any of you motherfuckers can take me down?” 

Hasco slaps the side of his face, “fuckin do it, pussy. I know you won’t, you’re a bitch just like your mom-” 

Peter and Ethan pull their head back in a hiss, the collison sounded like a crack. It was enough to send Hasco’s head spinning before he dropped, he was real silent real fast. 

Booker stood over him and pulled him up by his shirt, a raised hand in the air. “Don’t fucking talk about my mom, you don’t know shit about her and what she’s done for me.” 

Ethan points his spoon towards him, defending his point. “Facts, the mom card was too far, Hasco.” 

“I should beat your ass, but Parker said no blood on his blender.” 

“Thank you!” 

“Thank your white friend and apologize on my moms behalf,” when Hasco stays silent Booker lifts his hand a little, Peter moves around to see him wince in fear. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I was just heated man, you know how it is, it’s all crazy this time of year, cause all these new guys come in and my mind is all scrambled-” 

Ethan’s spoon points again, “that’s the coke.” 

“Hey! Fuck you man! If you wanna fucking go then we can go, motherfucker.” 

“You’re being held down by another man talking about beating my ass.” 

“Fuck all you! The only real one here is Parker, he’s a real friend, he has my back, he’s the only one here protecting me.” 

“I was protecting my blender,” Ethan shoves his elbow into his and mumbles, “health and safety officer,” he corrects himself, “and you, Hasco. It’s my job to protect everyone in the house. Do we need to settle this with a gulag or can it end here?” 

Booker’s over it, and Hasco needs a bump. 

“Let me up and we can hug it out,” and they do. Awkwardly slapping at each other’s back, Hasco giving him a “we all good brotha,” causing Peter and Ethan to wince again. 

“Don’t ever fucking say that to me.” 

“Parker! He’s still threat-” 

“Anything Booker deems racist is gonna get your ass beat, that’s a rule we signed in.” Ethan nods, “can confirm, I was there as witness.” 

“Simpson agreed? Of course he did, Polish motherfucker.” 

Ethan lost it, his shoulders shaking with his laugh. Hasco had something to say about everyone, last year after they butted heads, Hasco called him ‘plant fucker’ for six weeks and it never got old. Ethan laughing made Peter smirk, but he had to kill it before Hasco could catch him. 

“You know I love you, man! No more disrespect on your mom, you slapped the shit outta me. I feel like a bitch, I would’ve rather you punched me.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” 

Hasco made a motion of his mind exploding, “wild man, you’re a wild man.” He jumps at the idea of something and looks around the kitchen rubbing his nose, “hey, uh, we all good here guys? I got some shit to do in my room.” 

Eyes are on Peter, he’s the one that makes the call. He assumes everything’s fine, Booker looks bored and Hasco’s running his tongue over his gums, eyes twitching to the staircase. 

“Cleared.” 

Hasco nods, “fuckin sick,” and slithers between Peter and Ethan, slowly walking to the staircase before running up them. Peter’s stating the obvious, but it needs to be said. 

“Oh, he needs a fucking rehab.” 

Booker shrugs, “I dunno, dude. I slapped him sober.” 

Ethan cleans his bowl in the sink, “slapped him into next week, that shit ricocheted off the cabinets.” Booker eyed Peter as he said, “I mean, he deserved it?” Peter raised his hands up, “I said it was cleared, you don’t have to explain or excuse shit.” 

He snapped his fingers and pointed at him, “Parker, you’re my fuckin guy. I gotta get to practice, but you’re my fuckin guy.” Peter waved him off, “you protected my blender, bro. Tarrent loves that thing.” 

Booker jogged away pointing at him, “my guy! Still my guy!” 

Ethan raised his eyebrows at Peter when they were left alone, “you’re gonna love me.” 

“What’d you do?” 

Ethan shrugs, “made use of my day off and printed those handbooks.” Peter feels like he could cry, his best friend really was one, he took one for the team and dedicated himself to hours in the library to do the brunt of the work. 

“God,” A finger stops him, “not done, I also got the folders and brackets from the supply store. All we need to do is staple, stamp and book em’.” 

“You’re the best person to ever exist and I don’t say it enough.” 

“Wanna sit on my balcony and smoke a backwood while we do it?” He can’t imagine a better scenario. 

Then wonders if the freshman smoked, and finds himself aggravated at the thought. Why was he still thinking about her? 

She’s a witch, she has to be. He pushes her away, and focuses on his friend. 

“I’ll cry right now, Keznek.” 

—-------------------

It was nice outside, Peter was comfortable in a hoodie and sweatpants, and so was Ethan. They slowly talked while they worked back and forth. Peter would staple the pages, Ethan would bracket them into the booklets, then Peter would stamp them. 

"You remember those info sheets Trent's 'new friend' got him?"

"Yeah, do you know who it is?"

Ethan hisses when he pinches his finger, “nah, I did find out it's a chick though." Even though they’re alone Ethan leans in and talks low, “and apparently it’s top, top secret. Like, no one can find out, ever. She has something on him.” Those pages are held too tightly to their chests, every fraternity in competition with each other no one dares share or spill. 

“How’d you find out?” 

“Simpson left his computer open, he had it on his notes app.” Peter blows a harsh breath, “how do you think she got it?”

“No idea, but that shit comes at a price. She wants something, and it’s gonna be something Trent can control.” 

There’s a lot he can control, everyone can think they’re the most manly in the house, but Trent owned the title. Peter doesn’t know why, but it makes him itch to find out. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but he has a weird tug that demands to be discovered. 

It was that same tug he felt when that witch looked at him today, and why is he thinking about her? Why is he still thinking about her, he doesn’t even know her name, and she’s mean. Was Tarrent right, was he just noticing her instead of her showing up? Has he been looking out for her? And why in the hell is he still thinking about her? 

He’s right, he has to be. She’s a fucking witch. 

Peter snaps out of it and stamps three books. “What if she’s just bullshitting? Is there any way to prove it’s real?” 

“She’s not and she has. She hacked their computers.” 

It’s blackmail, she needs something over the frat. It’s his job to protect the frat, from the personnel to the building. His guess is money, but the why is lost on him. If it’s frat money he’d find out, Trent would have to run it through him, and if not, he’d find it the next time he went through the books. 

“That’s so weird, and speaking of weird, you remember that chick that bumped into me?” 

Why was he talking about her? Why was he still thinking about her? It just came out, he didn’t even have anything to say. She’s a fucking witch.

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know, nevermind.” 

Ethan shrugs, “alright. Wanna guess what Tarrent’s doing for hazing?” Peter reloads the stapler, it’s automatic and he feels like a king. “You know it’s my job to prevent hazing, right?” 

“No, it’s your job to prevent poor or dangerous hazing, and guess who makes that call?” 

“Are you saying the definition of poor and dangerous hazing is at my discretion?” 

Ethan teeter totters, “technically mine too, I have to make sure you’re doing your job.” Peter fills in the blank, “by letting hazing happen?” 

“Alright, look. It’s a right of passage, you did it, I did it, everyone in that house and the other fifteen did it. Generations of fraternities have done it dating back to three hundred and eighty seven B.C. Everyone does it, that’s all I'm saying.” 

Ethan looks up at him from the gold brackets he’s thumbing flat on the book, “I know you have…” he tries to find the right words, “higher morals than most of us, and I know you’ll know when to shut it down.” 

“I never said I wanted to stop it, I just meant we’re not gonna be the frat that kills a kid.” 

“Jesus, of course we aren’t, I just didn’t want you killing the vibe.” 

Peter scoffs, “oh, well that’s just insulting.” He can see the end of the tunnel, only eighteen books left. “So, tell me what he’s doing. Please say it’s something better than the drunk soccer match.” 

Ethan cackles, “fuck you, that’s gold. It’s happening for sure.” 

Peter can think of one better, “imagine a drunk obstacle course, like, one of those bounce house ones? But we can make it all manly, so they think it’s something easy but on the other side it’s like a fucking bootcamp.” 

“Railing sixteen beers and rope climbing a six foot wall,” the idea made him laugh just as hard as the soccer match. “That’s so sick, you’re sick for that.” 

Peter stamps three more and finishes for him, “so obviously we’re gonna do it, right?” Ethan nods, “absolutely we are.” 

It falls silent, both of them working together but enjoying the quiet. Peter likes that most about Ethan, since day one he’s felt comfortable around him. He can be himself around him and it’s never once been awkward, they just agree on everything. 

It’s weird, sometimes it feels like Ethan doesn’t care about him but that also makes him a better friend to Peter. He acts like he’s less involved than he is, like he knows that Peter pushes people away when they get too close. The only person closer to Peter than Ethan is his aunt. 

But Ethan pretends he doesn’t know that, and it makes their bond stronger. Ethan’s opinion means the world to him, anything he says is taken with a mountain of salt. And no judgment, never, ever judgment. It takes a lot for him to say it, but he’d trust him with his life. 

When they’re down to the last ten Peter clears his throat, “have you gotten anywhere with the Salander sisters?” Ethan shrugs, “I’ve been feeling this girl in my bio class, she’s pretty cool. I invited her to the party, she seemed into me, I think.” 

“Woah, the Ethan Keznek catching feelings?” 

“Easy, I had two classes with her. She seems like she’d be fun to hang with, I’m not trying to date her.” 

Peter spits it out before he can stop it, “Tarrent thinks freshman and I will end up together.” 

Why the fuck does he keep thinking about her? 

She’s a fucking witch, she has to be. 

“The entitled one?” Ethan knows he can’t get his mind off her, he brought her up twice. And each time he looked like he regretted it, but he doesn’t care enough to push it. 

“Yeah. But he’s kinda dumb, right?” Peter doesn’t even know her, he hates how she’s been popping up in his mind throughout the day.

“He could be, or he may be a clairvoyant genius that sees the future. Personally, I vote for the latter.” 

Proof he’s a best friend, giving Peter an out through a joke. 

“He’s majoring in physical therapy but he should be a conspiracy theorist.” 

Final five, Peter’s ready for dinner. “Wanna hit up the dining hall after this?” 

“God yes, I need lo-mein noodles so bad right now.” 

—------------

The table was rowdy, everyone yelling over each other. If women thought men interrupting them was bad, they should see five men hanging out together. 

“Remember when Booker slapped me?” 

Paul dropped his fork, “no, what, when?”

Tarrent’s holding the edge of his plate to his mouth as he shovels rice in. “That’s hilarious.” 

Ethan sighs dreamily, “yeah, it was awesome.”

“Yes, Hasco. It happened like, three hours ago.” 

“Ah, fuck! I always miss the best shit, this is about to be Ally’s problem.” 

“I was stretching a cheerleader's hamstrings, I didn’t miss out on anything.” 

Ethan drops his fork to point at Tarrent, making sure Peter was paying attention. “He’s bragging, make him stop.” 

“Bakner, stop bragging, some of us are more lonely than others.” His words focused more on Paul, the guy that’s been with the same girl for six years. Like, everyone feels so bad he’s missing out on fights because he’s too busy being in love. 

It’s actually disgusting to Peter. 

“Don’t blame me, you guys are the ones against church girls.” 

Hasco sneers, “cause they try to convert us, I refuse to willingly be beneath another man.” 

Ethan loves riling him up, “hey, you never know, God may be a woman.” Hasco gives him a pathetic look, “c’mon man, not even you believe that.” Ethan nods his head like he’s got a point, Paul looks like he’s sick. 

“That is our lord you’re talking about, he died for us.” Paul’s a devoted christian… only when he felt the need to be. 

Peter taps his chin, “isn’t premarital sex one of the things he died for?” 

“What my girlfriend and I do behind closed doors is not the lord's business. Or yours.” 

The table ooed, Peter nods impressively, Ally’s given him a backbone. He pushes away from the table, he’s stuffed and needs to put his plates away. He also needs to piss. 

No one notices his descent, Peter looks over the dining hall, it’s always empty for dinner. Breakfast and lunch seemed impossible with seating, but for whatever reason dinner was always empty. 

Dropping his plates in a bin he politely nodded at a group of ladies before turning back for the bathroom, mumbling a song under his breath that was stuck in his head. “... Another bottle in the brain. Another girl, another fight,” Peter hit the door open with his shoulder, finishing his mumbling. “Another drive all night.” 

Peter had that weird feeling again, the one he felt when he saw that freshman. And fuck, he’s thinking about her again. 

She’s a witch, a real fucking witch. 

Peter moved his shoulders while he washed his hands, the song replaying over and over. Swinging the door open with this foot, he mumbled to himself again. “.. another bottle in the brain,” 

A voice speaks up, “another girl, another fight.” He jumps, his eyes fall to the left, perched at a high top was the witch. Her mouth wrapped around a spoon, a cup of fro-yo in her hand. Tarrent was wrong, he wasn’t noticing her. She kept showing up. 

“Hey,” he doesn’t like how winded he sounded. Who the fuck was she? 

“Hello, Peter.” 

His heart stopped, no one calls him Peter, no one. Since day one it’s been Parker, when he was recruited he was only addressed as Parker and it stuck. It’s weird she knew what his first name was, his suspicions are adding up. 

He wants to ask how she knew his name, but it’s cliche, and he really doesn’t care. If he guessed, it was probably Ally. It’s still a bold choice that she used it, it definitely separated her from the crowd. 

“And you are…” Waiting for her to fill in the blanks, if he could find out her name he can banish all traces of her in his mind, like a demon. 

A smirk wrapped around her plastic spoon, it scraped against her teeth as she removed it. 

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” She thinks she’s clever, she’s not. 

“I’m sure you planned it, considering how you keep showing up around me.” That seems to tick her off, “no, you keep showing up where I already am.” 

“Now you’re just lying.” 

She raised three fingers, “scouts honor.” Peter looks around, “where are your friends?” 

Why is he still talking to her? She must have him under her spell. 

The witch hums, “can’t a girl get fro-yo alone?” 

“It’s a free country, babe. Do you, girl power, smash the patriarchy, all that stuff.” 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly misogynistic?” 

Peter looks up at his brothers, it still seems like his absence hasn’t been noticed. Her eye contact is insane, it makes his knees weak like this morning. It’s gross, her powers have taken over his cerebrum. 

“Just one, I think she doesn’t know what misogyny is.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up, “you’re mansplaining now?” Peter’s eyes look at her mouth when she takes another spoonful. “Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly difficult?” It’s like his words egg her on, “just one, I don’t think he knows what difficult is yet.” 

“Yet? For a person with no name you’re bold.” Normally flirting doesn’t feel like this, he feels like he has to keep up with her. Peter hates that it feels like she always has the upper hand. 

She makes him feel like he could go all night.

The witch proves she’s difficult, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” She jumps out of her seat, for the fourth time she’s left him thinking about her. 

“Have a goodnight, Peter.” 

“Yeah, you too.” He’s weary and doesn’t trust her. 

Her back turned on him as she walked away, his eyes dropped to her ass and tilted his head impressively. He can’t deny a nice sight. 

Too bad she’s a witch. 

When he makes it back to the table it’s unnoticed, except for Tarrent, he gives Peter the smallest hint of a smile.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

It was the day he’s been preparing for all week. The official start of the year, he wouldn’t be able to get too loose tonight, he’d be too busy kicking out anyone puking, fighting or excessively crying. 

He also had a lecture and a lab today. He hates himself. If he plans it right, he’d have time to take a nap, not that he would, but the idea of one made him feel better. Speaking of naps, he still needs to set up a bed for Harvey in the chapter room. 

Rolling over, Peter picked up his phone and went straight for twitter. It was his morning news, scrolling for a little until a headline caught his eye. 

‘Spider-Menace’s scheduled slump.’ He clicks the link, it opens and he rolls his eyes, he should’ve expected it. 

‘Spider-Menace is no longer patrolling the streets nightly, don’t worry criminals, you won’t be out of a job anymore. To the real heroes of the city, the citizens, we bid ado to the masked vigilante. For the second year, Spider-Menace picked up activity during the summer months, and has plans to become a rare sight during the months that follow. 

It’s unsure what our ‘friendly’ city destroyer is up to, but we do know the ones trained for their job, the NYPD, are prepared for any threat. For more on Spider-Menace, download our app to be the first to know exclusive news updates.’ 

Just like usual, the Daily Bugle was dumb as shit. 

Peter Parker had shit to do, a life to build. Spider-Man didn’t pay the bills, Peter did. It doesn’t mean choosing himself over a daunting responsibility was easy, the first year he stressed himself so thin he lost his abilities. 

No strength, no healing, no heightened listening. He needed glasses for the first time in years, and for a second he swore his asthma came back. 

Needless to say, it freaked him the fuck out. He’s always viewed Spider-Man as a thing he had to do, the great responsibility his uncle Ben reminded him of. And when he lost it, he realized how much he wrapped himself into his alter ego. 

When Peter lost Spider-Man, he lost himself. And he swore if he got his powers back, he’d build a life for Peter outside them. 

And he did. He has been. And no matter what his uncle told him, he knows he’d be damn proud of him for doing it.

Peter pulls at the chain around his neck and looks at the ring on it, it was Ben’s wedding ring. May gave it to him when he turned eighteen, she said he had a dream and needed him to have it. He’s worn it every day since then. 

Bored of twitter he makes the switch to instagram, opening his messages and responding to the videos he’s been sent. For whatever reason he thinks about the witch, he wonders if he could find her from Ally’s page. He probably could, but it feels like cheating. 

Starting his day the same way, he walks to his bathroom yawning and pulling his boxers off. Starting the shower and wasting the time waiting for it to heat up by brushing his teeth, tugging at the front of his hair with a grunt. 

He needs a haircut. 

He should get one before the party. 

He also needs to buy booze. 

And two fucking classes, that fucking guy really was a Spider-Menace. 

‘Half lab, Peter. Half lecture.’ He thanks his own mind for the gentle reminder. The shower feels nice, it always does. On his bad days, the days where everything is too much it’s his safe place. He could stay in the shower for hours, the rushing water calms him, even when it turns ice cold. 

They don’t happen often, but it’s debilitating when they do. He spends his day hiding, on one really bad day he was curled up on the floor of the shower with his hands pressing into his ears as hard as they could, trying his best to block everything out and it wasn’t working, nothing was working. He remembers sobbing, praying to any God that would listen to help him. No one heard him. 

But that was last year. He had an episode over the summer, and as much as she didn’t want to leave him alone, he begged May to leave. Her walking around, or even sitting on the couch was too much. He could hear the fabric move underneath her, he could even hear her breathe. 

It took hours, but when he was defeated and went from hearing the city to a low, constant ring he was ready to sleep. He’d be okay in the morning, sometimes that’s the only thing that gets him through it. He called May and apologized, and told her she could come back to her own home. She laughed at him and said ‘it’s your home too,’ and that made him feel better than a shower ever could. 

But today wasn’t one of those days. Today, he was making it a good day. 

—--------------

Peter’s good day took a small dip when he had to skip breakfast. And by skipping breakfast, he means all he had was a fat spoonful of peanut butter and an apple to go. He forgot to refill his water before leaving and nearly choked to death on the glue in his mouth. 

Every dog in the world had gained his sympathy. 

But, today was a good day. Especially when he was seated next to a smoking hot chick, he wasted no time in casually looking her over, committing details to think of rather than stare. A black skater skirt exposed a tattoo of Medusa that took up her entire thigh, a white shirt with a Vans logo in the center, it was obvious she cut the sleeves herself. 

She was wearing a black bralette underneath, she was flat chested and he didn’t mind one bit. They suited her, she seemed too cool for him. She looked like she would ruin his life and he’d love every minute of it. 

He wasn’t wasting any time, “first time here?” 

The girl winced, he did too the second he said it. 

“That’s your opening line, really? Are you proud of that?” 

Peter shook his head, “I regretted it the second I said it. Usually I’m way cooler, but pretty girls make me nervous.” 

The girl smiles, she has teeth to envy. “Smooth, did you plan that whole thing?” He didn’t, but if she believes it he’s not one to ruin dreams. 

“Maybe things are working out in my favor, like sitting next to you.” 

There’s a gleam in her eye, “you’re a flirter, and that makes you dangerous.” Peter might be laying it on thick here, but she may like it. “Hm, do you like danger?” Her eyebrow quirks, “do you?” 

Oh, he wants her. 

Peter extends his hand out, “Parker, nice to meet you.” The girl shakes his hand, it’s ultra soft. “Nice to meet you, Parker.” 

What the fuck is up with girls not sharing their names? What’s he supposed to do, call them babydoll? 

“Any plans tonight?” 

“Your party, what else would I be doing?” 

Peter’s celebrating on the inside, she’s just been booted to the top of the list. 

“Glad to hear it, if you’re okay with it I’d love to play a game of pong with you.” 

The girl holds a hand to her chest, jewelry covering her fingers and wrist. 

“I’d be okay with it, not sure my girlfriend would be.” 

Peter’s entire world collapses, he meets the girl of his dreams and he’s the furthest thing away from her type. She seems overjoyed to share the news, the defeat on his face is the highlight of her day. When he takes a good look at her he’s reminded of someone else. 

“Is your name…” They say at the same time, “Lily?” 

“I was waiting on that one, handsome. Rose told me all about you, I had to get two for oh.” 

He has to take that one on the chin, “you live up to the hype, Lily.” She’s happy with his words, “same to you, Parker.” 

Peter plays it cool when the lecture starts, he’s trying to make it a good day. But all he can think about are the witches' words. Maybe he really has lost his frat boy edge, so far his only prospects have been two lesbians and a freshman. 

And just like that he has a burnt taste in his mouth, because he somehow rounded his thoughts back to her. 

She’s fucking evil, and she’s a witch.

—--------------

Peter’s standing at the edge of the kitchen looking over the liquor on the counter. It’s an impressive haul, he doesn’t think they have enough coolers and fridges for all the beer. The island would be spread out with all the bottles, mixers, cups, and as tradition calls, jungle juice. 

Tarrent is running around like a mad man, screaming at everyone but Peter to ‘fucking do something!’ Hasco’s preparing in his room and no doubt Trent’s joined him. Paul’s coming late due to Ally, no one’s shocked. Leaving Booker and Nick to follow every command from Tarrent. 

Peter should help out, and he will later, but he’s got to take a shower. He got the haircut he needed and he can feel little hairs poking into his neck, plus, he’s not sure what the night could bring. 

“Give me ten minutes to shower and I’ll help you guys, where’s E?” Booker shrugs, Nick’s sweating like a whore in church and Tarrent pauses to point and laugh. 

“Ha! Parker’s about to go wash his balls.” 

Peter squints at him, “yeah, girls tend to like that.” 

“Yeah- sure, whatever you say, buddy.” Nick looks between everyone’s face while he slowly asks, like everyone is scared of the answer. 

“Do you… Do you not wash your balls?” 

“Showering is a scam made up by Dove soap. People say you only need to shower like, once a week.” 

Peter shakes his head, “no, that’s not… Tarrent you work out all the time, I can’t believe I need to tell you, but you gotta wash your sack. In general and especially before you hook up, imagine a cheerleader after four days of practice and no shower asking you to munch down on her.” 

Tarrent is a different breed, “that’s the difference between us, Parker. I enjoy the musk.” 

Peter gags, Booker says, “man, that’s nasty.” Nick’s actually gagging, he’s got the weakest stomach to exist. 

“That’s what separates you boys from us men.” 

Nick whines through another gag, “I don’t wanna be a man, Parker, don’t let him make me a man.”

—-------------

Peter’s quiet as he gets ready. 

His frat shirt looks good, he’s not one to fawn over his body, but he can’t help but nod impressively at his build. His shirts tighter this year, evidence of hard work. His haircut is nice, it’s a little shorter than he normally goes but he’s not sure when he’d get time to go again, so he wanted some wiggle room. 

Even if it was bad no one would see it, at this point he feels naked without his snapback. Peter tucked his necklace into his shirt, he hates when girls ask him about it. He understands they need an ice breaker but it’s the worst one to bring up. 

Brushing down his jeans and making sure his Nike’s were clean, he was ready for the night to start. He doesn’t know how he did it, but Tarrent had set up the entire kitchen by himself, snapping his fingers at Peter the second he saw him, requesting help for moving the couch. 

Peter’s hands gripped at the edge of the couch, nodding at Tarrent, “ready?” They lift it in one go, moving to set it against the wall, then do the same to the other one, and the chairs. All that was left was a giant open space, couches and chairs were free game, but it made more space for more bodies. 

“Make sure the keg fridge is working, I’m gonna go wash my balls.” 

At least he took the advice.

Peter heads to the garage with a plastic cup and pulls at the keg tap, it takes a second and foam rushes out, then ice cold miller light. It was a small gimmick Peter made when he was pledging and he swears to this day that’s what got him sworn in. 

He bought an old fridge off a grad student and emptied it out, threw a keg in and sawed a hole in the front to feed a tube and the tap. It was genius, everyone loved it. Peter chugs the beer and tosses the foam, they’ve got an hour until people start showing. 

Peter wonders when the witch will show up, will he be able to feel her presence before he sees her? It’d be a nice warning but he doesn’t have the best control at gaging people he doesn’t know that well yet. 

He needs to stop thinking about her, and fuck, he needs to make that bed for Harvey before Trent snaps his neck. Racing around for sheets and pillows, Peter opens the chapter door and sets up the pull out couch, he’s not a homemaker by any means but he’d be fine to sleep here. 

“Oh good, I was making sure you were doing your job.” 

Peter jumps, turning to look back at Trent. “I mean, not really my job, but sure.” 

“You’re testy this year, don’t challenge me in front of Harvey, I need his respect.” Wow, the first time Trent ever admitted he needed something. Even if Peter doesn’t like him, he can respect his dedication to proving he could truly run the frat. 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Peter salutes to his president, it makes him break his rough exterior, he’s nervous. 

“That’s more like it, Parker.” 

—----------------

“I think Harvey’s here.” 

Peter moved to stand next to Ethan on his balcony, looking down at a Mercedes pulling into the driveway. “Yeah, that’s him.” His best friend scoffs, “isn’t it shit how the richest kids don’t appreciate what they have the most?” 

“The fuck are you talking about, Kez? Don’t you have CFO daddy money?” 

Ethan’s sharp, “don’t you have dead parents money?” 

It went silent, both shocked he said it. Until they start laughing, if anyone else had said it, it would be in poor taste. When Ethan says it, he’s laughing with Peter, it’s like he shares the massive trauma with him. 

“And dead uncle, check cleared the second after I turned twenty one.” 

“That life insurance pays out, doesn’t it?” 

Peter nods, breaking from the joke for a second. At the time when Ben had created it and fed into it, it was rare to have such a good plan. 

“Oh yeah, he had awesome fucking benefits. My aunt still gets pension checks, he’s been dead for eight years.” 

“No shit? That’s pretty fucking sick.” 

“And not that they had any obligation to, but his company paid for the entire funeral.” 

Peter doesn’t open up much, but it’s casual with Ethan. Even so, he doesn’t like showing his cards, it was minor, but he’s said more than enough. 

“Hey! You, um…” Peter trails off when he relights the joint, the flame expanding before shrinking back down. His voice goes deep when he talks through an exhale, “got any plans with bio chick?” 

“Nah, I’m just gonna play it cool. We have the semester together, too much too fast and it’s a dumpster fire.” 

True fucking that. Obsessed Olivia ruined the first half of his second year, after that, he swore he wouldn’t hook up with a classmate before a two week period. (Unless he counts the lesbians, and he does not, because it’s not happening.) 

“That’s so real, you’re so real for that.” 

“I’ve been enlightened, I went to a sweat lodge retreat this summer and my third eye has been opened.” 

Peter feels sick, “that’s the most rich kid shit I’ve ever heard.” Ethan smacks his arm, “I know how busy you are in the summer, otherwise I would’ve invited you.” Sometimes he feels like Ethan gives him a wink, wink, nudge, nudge look, but he’s also slightly paranoid and Ethan’s usually high. 

“Oh. Damn. So sad I missed that.” It was monotone, and Ethan waves him off. “Sure, make fun of me now, but next year you’re coming and you’ll love it.” 

“No, I need water. I’ll die.” 

“I mean, you get water, dude. They just suck all of it out of you first and push you to the brink of death and delusion until you give into your ego and admit defeat because you’d do anything for a drop of water.” 

Peter stares at him in horror. 

“It’s awesome, dude.” 

The boys turn their heads at a footstep on the deck, Harvey Gyun in his Burberry glory. He pushes aviators up to his hair, arms open wide in greeting, like he was about to tackle them. 

“What’s up, you short dicks?” 

Harvey’s a cool guy. It’s pretty surface level with him, he’s a rich asshole, only because he doesn’t know any better. But he still treats you well. 

Peter could put up with him snapping at a waitress if it meant he was getting a free two hundred dollar meal, and he has. Several times. 

Peter shouts out, “the king is back!” Harvey nods to the clapping, “that he is, that he is. How about you princesses bow for me?” 

He's an alum. You do what they say, kidding or not. 

The chapter officers bow at his request, Harvey giggles and rubs his hands together. “I forgot I have that power now, I’m gonna fuck with Simpson so hard. Be honest, how freaked out was he about me coming?” 

As much as he didn’t like Trent he promised him he’d make him look good. 

“Not bad, he was actually pretty chill.” Ethan doesn’t need to understand the bluff to back it, it’s his job as best friend. 

“More excited to show you he’s ready for this, you did good at preparing him last year.” 

Harvey can smell bullshit a mile away, but knowing the officers were dedicated to their president speaks volumes. The frat will be just fine without him. 

“Good backing, boys. Daddy taught you well. Finish that,” he points at the joint, “and meet me downstairs. We need a toast before the year starts.” 

Harvey Gyun has a kind of energy Peter’s never seen before. “Yes, sir.” Harvey kisses his teeth, rubbing at his lawline, Peter clocks his watch. It’s sixty grand. 

“Such good boys.” 

When the coast is clear, Ethan turns to Peter with a bit lip and a whimper. “I hate how much I loved that.” It’s not Peter’s preferred voice, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what he means. 

“Yeah, good boy makes a man feral.” Peter passes the joint Ethan’s way, “kill it.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

—--------------------

Peter looks around the room at his small group of brothers. When everyone else joined in, it’d be a blended family. But no one could ever be as close as these six guys, they’ve been through it all together. 

He’s proud of himself and everybody in the room. 

Three years. They’ve made it three years and as dumb as he’s always thought it was, even with all their minor grievances, he’s made friends for life. Even if they fall out of touch for a few years, he'll be at the wedding and the funeral. 

“I won’t lie, it feels weird not hosting freshman Friday this year. But you fuckers have made it three years in and I couldn’t be prouder in my choice of men to recruit. Tonight, we party, we mistake, we regret and we have fun. And- I think Simpson’s the best president you could have.” 

Trent visibly relaxes, everything he’s been praying for came to fruition. Harvey must have known he wouldn’t be able to do any of those things if he was paranoid of being watched all night. Harvey raised his shot glass and everyone did the same, taking a second to clap Trent’s shoulder before addressing the group.

The group chanted as one, “Sig Nu!” 

Shot glasses double tapped on the counter, tequila was a bold choice. It was just the thing he needed for the night to start. Ethan’s eyes on the clock, he nudges Tarrent. 

“Booker, Nick, collectors fee.” 

They leave to stand guard outside the door, nodding at a forming line. Trent leaves with Harvey, Tarrent goes to set up the music that Hasco will take over once he’s done getting a fix. Ethan’s yelling at Hasco through the bathroom door about ‘not getting too coked up’ and Hasco biting back with a ‘fuck you!’ 

Peter shakes his shoulders and takes a step, Tarrent stops him with a hand on his chest. His voice lowered, looking around so no one would hear. 

“Talk to the freshman. I mean it, Parker.” 

It always circles back to her.

Witch, witch, witch, witch. 

“You’re delusional.” 

“Maybe I am, or maybe you trust me and talk to the girl.” 

Peter wants to correct him, inform him she’s a witch because he can’t get her out of his mind. But the real reason she was a witch was because she made Peter want to talk to her more. 

And that’s not who he is. 

So, she has to be a witch. 

Right?

YOUR FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

It may have been the first day of the year, but the cafeteria was buzzing. 

Breakfast in the food hall didn’t feel this busy on a normal school week. It seemed like everyone was sitting with their friends sharing a breakfast burrito or an orange, catching up from summer break. You were entertaining your friend group talking about a summer vacation and part time job you took up to save up spending cash for the school year. 

(And leaving out the real source of cash- it’s cheating and you have to hide your eyes from Noa.)

Five people were at your table. 

Ally Storm, dating Matt Paul of Sig Nu, second and third year roommate. 

Sarah Adams, nursing student and never around.

Prince Otto, three years in and major undeclared. 

Natalie Fieldman, roommate your freshman year, art major. 

And Noa Carter, computer science superfreak. 

The group talked over each other, then quieted down when nine hit. Everyone except you, Ally and Prince went to class. Leaning in when she spoke, you and Prince strained to hear, unaware she’d be spilling secrets.

“All that talk about this summer and you don’t even bring up Harvey?” 

Harvey was the best well kept secret you had, he graduated last year and was an official alumni of Sigma Nu. You’d kept hooking up all summer, before parting ways when you moved back for college, keeping the door open so when he visited there was always an option. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Harvey Gyun? I need when, where, why and what, right now.” 

Holding up a hand you raise a finger at each point, “like three weeks before he graduated, my dorm or his room at a party, to have fun with zero commitment, and Ally would’ve never known if Matt didn’t see me sneaking out of his room at like, five am.” 

Prince sucked his teeth, “he’s a prick, he said he was only sleeping with me.” 

“Oh, what the fuck.” 

Prince was seeing him too? Ally slammed her hand over her mouth, it’s how you felt. 

“Double dipping bitch.” 

You shrug, “you gotta respect a man’s hustle sometimes, Prince.” 

Ally reached a hand out on the table, silently demanding attention. “You know who’s hustling will earn my respect?” A hand patted your shoulder, “our friend here, and it’s currently recruiting season at the frat house, thirty two new boys introduced.” 

Your eyes bug out, “thirty two, what the fuck? How are they keeping count this year?” You could be an actress if you tried.

“Apparently, twelve will be cut by the second week. Then hazing starts, so we’ll scope it out next week and make our bets.” 

“Prince, please pick a winner this year.” 

Green hair swayed when he shook his head, arms crossed. “Nope, I got a thing for the underdog.” 

Ally grinned up at her boyfriend when he took a seat next to her, three breakfast burritos on a plate. Your eyes flashed up for the rest of the frat, scanning the food lines you counted heads. Aaron, Keznek, Hasco, Bakner. Trying not to let the disappointment show you looked back at Ally, talking quicker than lightning to her boyfriend, who definitely wasn’t listening as he scarfed burritos down. 

Looking at the time you frown, you had an appointment with your class advisor and a shitload of books to rent and buy. Standing, you look over to the coffee bar, having enough time you grab another cup and go. 

You rattle your paper cup as show and hitch a near empty bag over your shoulder. “Meeting with my advisor, have a lovely first day my friends.”  Matt gave an extra loud goodbye as you walked off, sending him a middle finger behind your back. Saying quick ‘excuse me’s’ as you passed through the crowd, doing your best to avoid shoulders. 

Approaching the small, self-serve coffee cart you open your cup, then see a ‘please use a new cup each time!’ sign and followed instructions, grabbing a piping hot pot of coffee, full of caffeine and loaded up.

Steam billowed over your fingers as you filled the cup up, peering over the assortment of milk and sugar you grin at your pick of the litter. 

Looking over to your left when someone stands next to you, you feel your heart race. Swiping his card at checkout and sharing conversation with the line worker, you’ve never seen anything more attractive. You allow yourself to imagine him handing his card to a waiter at dinner, a dinner he asked you out to. 

Even more handsome than the last time you saw him, a secret crush. 

Last year he had broken up a fight between some twins that were later kicked out the frat, watching him tear them apart and slam the bigger one to the ground as the other was held back by Keznek, made something click in your brain and suddenly you had your eye out for Peter Parker everywhere you went. 

The comedic irony being you’ve never spoken to him, fairly sure he doesn’t even know you exist. Flying under his radar for two years, last year boosting you with confidence with your hookup partners, you promised this was the year of going after what you want. 

And you wanted Peter Parker. 

Snapping the lid you turn to leave, sliding sideways between two tables. About to cross by the table you were just sitting at, you look down at your shoe, losing balance and shoulder checking the person next to you, quickly apologizing. 

“So sorry!” 

The universe had your back, who else did you bump into other than your crush himself? 

Brown hair hidden under a snapback, a heather gray t-shirt with red details, his fraternity logo on the corner of his chest and a full piece on the back. Brown eyes with a honey ring looked at you, for a moment you felt your chest tighten. Peter Parker was about to talk to you, it felt like your tongue went thick, until his eyes hardened and looked at you with disgust. 

A sneer, “fucking freshman.” 

What a prick, it was a tap and you apologized. He wasn’t the person you’d hoped he’d be, it was a shame he was too cute.  “I hope you fucking choke.” You bark at him, words spilling before you could think, then bolting.

Peter’s eyes go wide at your statement, whizzing by a table and up the steps you leave the dining hall. Stomping away, like your harsh steps could be proof for the discontent you felt. It felt somewhat satisfying, because you felt him watching you all the way out. 

It may have not been what you liked, but there was no way Peter Parker wouldn’t know who you are after today. 

—-----------------------

Shaking your leg and tapping the heel of your foot on the linoleum you look around, arms crossed as you rope over your future. The easy years are over, it’s all about focusing on your major now. 

Your advisor is nowhere to be seen, you can’t imagine how many people she’s seeing this week. Eyes catching the inspirational posters in her office, they’re cheesy at best, but damn if they don’t make you feel slightly proud of yourself for getting this far. 

Gripping your coffee cup, you look at the cafeteria logo and grimace. 

Your meet cute was more like a meet ugly, but maybe he was having a bad day? It’s not like you were all sunshine and roses, the start of the school year sucked, and if you knew anything about last night, he was probably hungover. Unlike you, because you knew the consequences of your actions, you chose to stay in no matter how hard Ally had begged. 

‘C’mon, please?’ she dragged out her ‘e’ and gave you puppy dog eyes. 

‘Tempting, but no.’ your bed was extremely comfortable underneath you. 

‘Please? I don’t wanna go alone.’ if you didn’t know Ally as well as you do you might have given in, but you knew she was full of bullshit. 

‘I’m not getting out of bed, dressing, and going to sit in a loud ass frat house while you practice making babies with your boyfriend.’ 

Argument proved right the next day when she arrived back at the dorm at six in the morning, makeup smeared and a memory of a wild night. The only thing shared before she fell into her bed and passed out for the next two hours was, ‘why did you let me do that? You suck.’ 

Blinking out of the fog when the door opens, you’re greeted by the same advisor you’ve had for the last two years. “Halfway there, kiddo.” Grinning at her words, scared, but prepared for the next step. Mrs. Caliban swayed her hips as she walked to her desk, sitting in her chair and pushing her glasses to her hair. 

“Let’s figure out what books you really need, hm?” 

Settling into your seat and crossing your legs, holding your knee in place with your palms. 

“I’m ready for some of that Mrs. Caliban magic.” 

Watching her look over your classes you appreciate how hard she’s working, crunching numbers and using her knowledge as proof of purchase she tsks as she looks over your requirements log. 

“Half of these you won’t use, my advice? Friend up with a sucker who buys one and use theirs on the rare or off chance you actually need it.” 

Your heart soaring when she gives you your new sheet, initialing on her copy and stopping yourself from bouncing in your seat. You’re getting her a care package, you don’t care what she says. She’s your guardian angel that just saved you six hundred bucks and secured your ski tip this December. 

“Mrs. Caliban, you just did wonders for me, you have no idea.” 

You can’t tell if she’s blushing but her response makes you think she is. 

“The miracles are why I do it, kiddo. Now, if you don’t mind, I have thirty seven others to make today.” 

You caught the hint, scrambling from your seat and hooking an empty bag around your shoulder, prepared to be filled with less books than you were prepared for. How crazy. 

Mrs. Caliban’s voice called out your last name before you could open the door, “I have a good feeling about you, I think it’ll be your year. I’m proud of you.”

And damn if that doesn’t make your eyes water. 

“I’m counting on it now, Mrs. Caliban. Don’t be wrong.” 

Her face tells you you have nothing to worry about, it’s an unamused expression. 

“Tell me, baby. When have I ever been wrong?” 

You can’t think of one. 

—--------------

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face, thumbs moving as quickly as possible across your keyboard. It was already planned for, and it was going to happen no matter what, but what your advisor just did for you tied the bow. And gave you some fun money.

‘Guess who just saved $600 and is DEFINITELY going on the ski trip?’ 

Ally’s response was immediate.

‘telling matt rn so he can secure the spot. SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS!!!!’ 

Butting your hip against the bar doorknob, you swung the door outwards and stepped outside, your eyes adjusting to the light. Blinking quickly, you peered up and took a wide step towards the right, heading to the bookstore. 

‘Dude, you have no idea. Mrs. Caliban is a fucking hero.’ 

‘i will give her my life for making it possible for this to happen.’ 

‘you have no idea, i was about to be so miserable with no other girls there.’ 

‘Prince is close enough.’ 

Suddenly, he has something to say. The group chat was his idea but it’s really just you and Ally talking to each other while Prince reads it and randomly jumps in. Peeking up and approaching the line for the bookstore, which wrapped around the building you looked back down at your messages. 

‘Hey, popping in to say a few choice words.’ 

‘Fuck you.’ 

You heart reacted his message, biting your lip in a silent giggle. Ally laugh reacted, which made Prince follow up with a middle finger emoji. Forgetting how close you were to the line, and lost in the excitement of saving money and going on a ski trip you lose focus and crash into the person in front of you. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!” 

And, oh fuck, you recognize that shirt. It was ingrained in your mind that morning. If you thought he wasn’t going to forget you earlier then you’ve just signed it into law, he’d never forget you now. 

It’s proven when he hits you with the same insult from earlier, you don’t know why it annoys you so much, maybe it’s the assumption. Or maybe it’s because it should be obvious that you weren’t a freshman. 

“Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.” He says it with a bitter laugh, like he’s just so funny. 

Peter Parker seemed like a nice guy. You didn’t know him, sure, but when you watched him at parties he seemed nice and respectful. And sure, you get his discomfort but only to a certain level. You did break his personal space twice, but him berating you and making you feel like shit just because you weren’t paying attention was a dick move.

It was an accident, both times. And you apologized profusely, at this point it’s on him to not accept the apology and be bitter. It says nothing about you and everything about him. So, it’s only fair if you call him out on his bullshit and state the obvious, he was a dick that spewed too many pet names. 

It reeked of condescending and you didn’t have time for it. Maturely, you spun your back on him and redirected your attention on your phone. 

Immaturely, Peter asked if you backed down, thinking you couldn’t win in a pissing contest with him. 

You kept reminding yourself it spoke more about him than yourself, until you really didn’t understand the anger so you just have to ask. 

This message was sent privately. 

‘What the fuck is Parker’s problem and who hurt him?’

‘sig nu parker? i dunno, why?’ 

‘He’s a dick. Is he normally a dick or has he singled me out to be his hate train?’ 

‘why is parker picking on you?? no, he’s very nice. what did u do?’ 

‘I bumped into him twice and he keeps calling me freshman :(‘ 

‘well… u better kiss and makeup cause you guys are airplane buddies on the trip.’ 

You stare at your screen with an open jaw, Mrs. Caliban was wrong, it was a terrible year and it literally just started. 

‘Oh you’re fucking with me, right?’ 

‘... right, Ally?’ 

‘😶 ummmm i would lie, but there’s no point.’ 

‘Oh my god, take one for the team and just sit with me. You’ll survive without Matt for four hours.’ 

‘i would. i swear i would, but we already bought the seats, speaking of… i was praying for a miracle and pre-bought your seat soooo. 😬’ 

‘And Prince wasn’t a good enough option????????????????????’ 

‘ok, princess. to be FAIR we didn’t know you hated each other so…’ 

‘plenty of time to kiss and makeup tho!!!’ 

Feeling safe enough to turn around, you ease when he’s got his focus on his own phone. Safely avoiding each other, you can breathe better. 

‘Just so you know my current situation, he’s actively hating me so you kiss and makeup that.’ 

Until your shoes hit his, and he hits you with a cocky grin that sends your heart skipping. It’s unfair he’s so attractive, he can’t be mean and hot, they cancel out. Unless it’s on him, because then it’s down right tempting and frustrating. 

“This one’s on me, sweetheart.” 

Knowing you’ll have to keep the peace for at least three months makes it doable, and if you can keep it cool, then you could avoid each other peacefully. Until a five hour flight; with him, you’re rounding up. 

Peter’s offer makes you question his character. He went from hating you in a second to.. dare you say flirt? Yet again insinuating you’re a freshman, you were about to correct him but stopped. No use, he’d figure it out soon enough. He’d also find out his flight partner soon enough, and if you thought you were unhappy with the news, you couldn’t wait to see him blow up. 

You could see a backup plan written on his face. His attitude flipped in a second, he went from displeased to charming quicker than you’ve ever seen. 

It’s not right how much you wanted to give in, but you wouldn’t be so easy, especially after he’s been so mean. 

Calling him out on his bullshit, you could see he was humbled a bit. Not expecting his play to be announced step by step. What made it better was gaining the upper hand on him, this time you sent him away second guessing himself. 

Smirking, you pull your phone back out. 

‘Nvm, thought it over, Parker seems fun.’ 

‘oh. so he flirted with you.’ 

‘Now, why would you even say that?’ 

‘cause i know you, lol. also, he’s a tough guy to hate. it’s something about him.’ 

Well, you’ll just have to figure that out yourself. 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH

The science building smelt like chemicals, a faint mixture of formaldehyde and bleach. It was oddly comforting and felt homey. Even if you felt like everyone around you was smarter than you, it didn’t feel intimidating. Everyone supported everyone in this hall. 

Your feet subconsciously match to the beat of the music flowing through your earphones, smiling at a person sharing the hallway when you curve around the corner. You liked biology just fine, so much so you’re minoring in it. 

But you could also admit that this particular semester was going to drag on. Field botany just wasn’t your thing. Plants were incredibly boring to you, they always have been. Save the planet, produce more trees, stop cutting them down, produce more oxygen, all those things. 

At the end of the day, learning about plants sucked the life out of you and you were feeling very neutral about the class. You followed a classmate through the door, grazing over the mostly empty room. It was smaller than you expected, you had the pick of the litter. 

Middle, middle row was the superior spot. Close enough to pay attention, but far enough to not gain it. Sitting in the center left you throw your bag in the seat next to you and start to set things up, pulling out your laptop, the class syllabus and a pen. 

Putting your headphones away and sitting straighter, you focus on the whiteboard, in rainbow bubble letters is your professor's name, ‘Dr. Thatcher.’ It’s cute, you grin at the small hint of personality. Watching students slowly fill in the back rows you sit straighter knowing your row would be next, hopeful your neighbors would be friendly. 

Your head turns when the seat next to you is filled, it’s a frat boy. 

“God, I am so fucking excited for this term, how about you?”

It’s Ethan Keznek. You never studied him, you knew who he was but you never actually noticed him, but looking into his eyes all you could think of was how long his eyelashes were. It seems like he’s noticing you too, he’s sly with it but he’s looking you up and down. 

“Plants aren’t my thing, but I’m assuming they’re yours?” 

A toothy smile, you can immediately tell he’s had braces before. He releases a breath before exploding, “god, they’re amazing, aren’t they? Self sustaining, self producing, they literally give us the air we breathe. How could you not find plants extraordinary?” 

Ethan’s eyes have a twinkle, it shows passion. You tilt your chin at him, “please tell me you’re majoring in botany, the world needs a lorax.” He breaks into a laugh, it’s charming and contagious, you smile with him. 

“Lucky guess, what’s yours?” 

You shift in your seat to face him better, “biology’s actually my minor, I’m majoring in english.” Ethan whistles, “big reader?” You nod, “if you ever need some recommendations, I’m your girl.” 

Ethan tilts his head and sticks his hand out, “Ethan Keznek, nice to meet you.” You stick your hand in his and shake it, it’s strikingly soft. You introduce yourself and his smile grows, “well,” he says your name and pauses, both of your eyes looking to the front when your new professor enters. 

He talks softly, “I will make it my personal mission to make you enjoy plants this semester.” You turn to focus on the front but talk out the corner of your mouth, “unless someone like you cares a whole lot…” 

You bite back a grin when you catch him laughing silently, both of you sitting in quiet when your teacher starts to introduce herself. She’s young and a redhead, everything about her seems symmetrical. Something tells you the semester wouldn’t be so bad. 

The class was an hour, followed by an hour lab. Class wasn’t bad, the first day was always easy, mostly introductions to the class, the work and the expectations. You stood and stretched before slowly repacking your belongings, Ethan working at the same speed, you assume to keep up with you. 

As he zipped his backpack, Ethan cleared his throat and looked at you. You raised your eyebrows and waited, “I know it’s the first day, but would you want to be my lab partner?” It’s the first time you’ve truly met him, but you feel nothing but comfortable around him, he’s kind. 

“It would be my honor.” 

—---------

Peter Parker was handsome, and pretty, and captivating and slightly mean. You couldn’t stay away from him, but his attitude was enough to make you question if he’s worth the frustration. 

You swore to yourself you’d go after him this year, you promised you’d get him into bed. But you can’t deny how good Ethan looked in a lab coat; even safety goggles couldn’t dim those green-brown eyes. 

“God I missed this, I was separated from test tubes and pipettes all summer.” 

You breathe out your nose as a laugh, “you’re one of those kids that lost his shit over getting a chemistry set for christmas, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, mouthing numbers as he counts his drops, looking at you and the sheet in front of you, bouncing back and forth until you catch the hint. 

“Oh!” You scribble the reaction, smiling when he corrects you. “It was a botany kit.” 

Looking over at him you can feel a tiny tug on your stomach, it felt like you were losing the plot from Peter. You wanted it to work with Peter, you didn’t really know him outside of surface value, but it felt like you did, and you know that sounds weird, but when he’s around you feel a bit more like yourself. 

But Ethan’s easy. “Of course it was.” Ethan’s back to measurements, “you doing anything Friday?” You nibble at your cheek, you know what he’s about to ask. “Nope, you?” He nods, “the frat’s doing freshman Friday,” Ethan looks over his shoulder to ask you, “planning on coming?” 

Peter may have asked you first, and you promised you’d be committed to the task, but if he viewed you as a backup plan, you should have one too. Not that Ethan was a second choice, he was just another option at this point. 

“Are you kidding? The Sig Nu freshman welcome is famous for a reason, you think I’d miss it?” Ethan diverted his attention to the PH chart on the page resting between you. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He cleared his throat and nodded at a test tube, “that’s a solid four, don’t you think?” You hold your hands up in surrender, “you’re the plant expert, lorax.” 

Your pencil is plucked from your hand, he writes his fours odd. He can’t stop making you smile, “well, unless someone like me cares a whole lot…” 

—---------------

The entire group was at your dorm. By the entire group you mean Ally, Matt, Prince, and Natalie. A pack of forgotten cards scattered on the floor, everyone focused on their red cups and speaking over each other. Sarah was unable to join in person, but she’s on a facetime call and jumping in when she can.

“On god, I’m gonna fuck my atonamy professor this year.”  You choked at Sarah’s comment, Natalie immediately cheering, “who is it?” Sarah bit her lip explaining, “just the hottest hunk of ass to exist. Dr. Youge, and trust me, I wanna go rogue, if you know what I mean.”

“Can confirm, he’s sexy.” 

Matt breaks from his twelve minute makeout with Ally, “Prince, you think everyone’s sexy.” He’s nodding accordingly, “because they are.” 

“Is this a good time to say Nate and I made it official?” The group overlaps in exclaims, Natalie in the hot seat for a second, her cheeks on fire. 

“When?!” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“What?!” 

Natalie pushes her hair behind her ears, gold jewelry on display. “Um, well, basically he said he didn’t picture himself settling down but the idea of someone being able to swoop me up made him sick.” 

You and Ally form a chorus, Prince joins in halfway through while Matt claps his hands over his ears, “awwww.” He can’t stand the squealing, “yeah, yeah, yeah…” Matt kicks your knee, “did you know Harvey's coming on friday?” 

Interest piqued, you hadn’t known, but the promise of the night ending in sex was in your cards and it makes everything about the first week of school better. A reward, if you will. 

In two days you have three prospects, Mrs. Caliban was right, this was your year. “I didn’t but…” your eyes shoot to Prince’s, you’d claim dibs because he was yours first, but you didn’t want a hookup to cause a friendship to rift.

“Oh please, I was sloppy seconds. He’s yours.” You stick out your tongue, “why else would he come?” 

“The frat. To help the frat kick off the start of the year, because he's an alum. Of the frat.” 

Natalie scoffs, “Ally, tell your boyfriend he’s stupid. Harvey’s obviously coming for girly and girly alone. Your frat is just a cover up.” It wasn’t, but Matt was gullible and hell bent on proving you wrong. 

“No, it’s tradition. All the old chapter presidents come back after their first graduation. It’s a hello and goodbye thing, like a, um… what am I thinking of, babe?” Ally fixes a piece of his hair sticking straight up, “passing of the torch?” Matt’s thick hand squeezed her bum sending Prince gagging and Natalie blushing. “So fuckin’ smart, I love when you know what I’m thinking.” 

Natalie jumps up after looking at her cracked phone screen, “and I’m thinking Nate’s wondering where I am cause I forgot we had a date tonight.” Ally hissed in through her teeth, “play the ‘helped a crying friend’ card, say Matt and I got in a fight.” 

Matt stage whispers, “we didn’t have a fight, right?” His girlfriend shakes her head, patting at the tuft of hair sticking up from his scalp, “no, honey.” A grin cracks, “good-” Ally interrupts, “unless Nate asks, then we got in a fight and you made me cry.” 

“A total mess, she was weeping all over the floor. Natalie had to help me get her into bed.” Prince jumps in, “I was also there, and crying in support of the Matt strike.” 

“So, call you guys if I need to bury a body? Got it.” You speak over the group laugh, “yeah, right. Call Noa, she’d have that shit taken care of in an hour.” 

“No, but that’s actually so true.” 

“She’s scary but in a sexy way.” Matt groans, “again with the sexy, Prince, good lord.” 

“Everyone’s sexy! We’ve been over this!” 

Natalie slowly gathers her things, giving you and Ally a silent salute at the door, Prince and Matt bickering back and forth. Looking back at your laptop you shrug, Sarah’s made another silent escape. You wave to your friend watching the door creak open, Natalie doesn’t feel bad for missing out. Neither does Sarah, apparently. “Okay, have fun, byeee.” The door slamming made the boys stop, blinking aware and immediately forgetting why they were debating. 

The main squad together at last, you bring the real topics to the table. Clearing your throat and pouring a new drink, you look at the group. “So, Paul, what’s the inside scoop with the pledges and how do I make money out of this?” (As if you didn’t already know.)

Ally and Prince start speaking over each other. “Nope!” 

“Not happening!” 

“There’s a reason Matt doesn’t vote! He’s biased!” Matt plows right through, “thou shall not steal, it’s a commandment, babe.” You snort, “and what would I be stealing?” 

The blonde shrugs, “my knowledge.” 

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

Sleep was tasting good today, you planned on sleeping in as long as you could. The type of sleeping where you get tired of sleeping and open your eyes wide awake and well rested. 

The keyword was planned, it’s been a nice summer off from Ally and Matt, because you forgot how they were early risers and were dependent on you for their enjoyment. 

“Hey, get up.” You politely ignore the request, it’s already too bright, Ally ripped the curtains apart so you’re hidden under your pillow. 

“Oh roomie, please rise.” Even when a pillow slams down on your butt you don’t move, you even attempt to hold your breath, hopeful they’d think you were dead and let your body decompose into your mattress. You wheeze for air and try to scramble from the bed when Matt throws himself on top of you, bouncing and pushing all his weight into you, rattling your name off like an impatient toddler. 

“I miss the days when Ally slept at the house,” you try and yell it out, it comes out in squeaks when Ally mounts Matt, “it’s my day off and I’m getting dogpiled!” 

“Get up! There’s belgian waffles at the dining hall!” You had the entire day to nap, there were waffles to be eaten. You wriggle around until the bodies on you disappear and you’re heaving for air. Throwing the blanket off and standing you give your friends a staredown before ripping your shirt off. Matt throws his hands over his eyes and screams, “thou shall not commit adultery, thou shall not commit adultery!”

“If you sleep here you see my boobs, Ally knows the rules!” Matt’s screaming at his girlfriend, “it’s a sin! Adultery is a sin!” Ally pushes his side, “you screamed sin before you saw nipple!” You’re changing clothes as fast as you can, if anything Matt would be scarred and keep Ally with him at his place, then you might be able to get some real sleep. 

“Sorry, Matt, but, uh… maybe if you sleep at your house you won’t see my boobs?” Ally gives you a glare from God himself, “Matty, this is what she wants. Next time, you better stare right at them.” Her boyfriend cries out, “no!” You roll your eyes, “all covered, you sinner. I’m ready for waffles.” 

Matt can’t even look at you in the eyes, a weary finger is pointed at your chest. “Temptation lives in you.”

—----------------

 If there wasn’t butter coating each small square in your waffle, there wasn’t enough butter. Noa Carter slides into a seat next to you, wiping syrup from your chin, you smile and take another bite. 

“Pledge secured?” Your eyes shoot around, looking for Ally and Matt, it eases your racing heart when they’re still in line loading up. 

“I’m meeting with Trent tomorrow night.” You feel gross, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do. “Do you think anyone’s gonna find out?” Noa chews on the straw from her ice coffee, “if Trent lets it slip to anyone else then Matt finds out, if he finds out Ally does, and once she knows, everyone knows.” 

“Fuck, I know. He can’t say anything, we- I mean, I have leverage.” 

“You think he can’t buy his way into school again?” You shake your head, speaking while you chew, “not without everyone knowing.” Noa tilts her head, she’s saying ‘fair point,’ with her motion. You grab her hand, “hey, thanks again. For the help, and keeping it between us.” 

Noa was nice, but not kind. She was a valuable resource for the group but made it clear she was into friendships for the transactional side. Noa could keep a secret, and she knew people in places you didn’t know existed, but if you used those talents she’d need yours in return. A deal with the devil each time you talk to her. 

“You’re indebted to me, you know that, right?” She was serious too, not fucking around while trying to get the last bit of coffee through the ice. You nod stiffly, it could be today or twenty years, but when she calls in that favor you have to abide. 

“Hey, Noa!” Ally’s always nice, Matt barely looks at her before shoving the corner of a waffle in his mouth. Noa looks at him in disgust and taps her knuckles on the table, “I'm out, see you later.” Ally pouts, “bye, Noa!” She smiles politely, “goodbye, Ally.” 

You thank her again with your eyes, “you coming to the party tomorrow?” Noa rotates her hand back and forth, giving you a so-so response. “We’ll see.” Watching Noa walk off you can understand how people find her both mesmerizing and scary, she carries herself in a way that screams she’s the smartest in the room and you believe it. 

“What are you wearing tomorrow?” You face Ally and watch her chew on a strawberry, “dunno yet, wanna dress me?” Her face lights up, nodding quickly she swallows, “I got this top over the summer and it’s gonna look so good on you!” Matt speaks staring at his phone, a gameplay blasting through his speakers. “Will Harvey Guyn find it hot?” 

If you could reach across the table you’d smack him, instead you finish your waffle. “Does he even have a room there, cause fucking on a twin is torture,” you look at your roommate, “unless we put the beds together…” 

Ally raises her hand to cover her mouth while she eats, “I’ll be sleeping with Matty at the house, when I come back Saturday afternoon, and the room is how it was when I left and my sheets are clean… I’ll be none the wiser to what happened.” 

You slide your plate away and reach your fork over the table to steal a banana slice, “I was joking but it’s nice to know you’re so-” you chew and stare at Matt while he rubs at his nose and wipes it on his pants; you look back at Ally and grimace. “-kind.”

“Harvey’s crashing in the chapter room, so unless you like a pull-out couch I recommend staying at yours.” You look at Ally, “what’s the chapter room?” You’ve never heard of it, or seen it. And you’re positive that besides the top floor where the members slept, you’ve been in every room of the house. 

“A secret room that no one but chapter officers are allowed to be in. I’ve seen it but I’ve never been inside. I tried one time and Matt told me to leave.” Eesh, if Matt kicked Ally out that means it’s a cardinal rule. “So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t sleep in there?” 

Matt nods, “correct.” Ally leans into her boyfriend and grabs his elbow, he keeps his focus on his phone while she whispers in his ear. Taking some time to look around the dining hall you recognized a few faces, waving at a girl you shared a few classes with last year. 

When you looked up to the upper level, you locked eyes with Peter. You were being sucked in and couldn’t stop. It was like he was telling you to come closer, come talk to him, like he’s inviting you to his table. The chatter in the room fizzled away, time stood still. It felt like your hearts were in sync, it felt like he was looking into you, it felt like you had a crush. 

It felt stupid to think anyone could come close to him. 

Peter wasn’t looking away, instead analyzing you the same way. He wasn’t sneering, he was curious. You never knew brown eyes could be so captivating, you wonder if he knew how dangerous he was. 

Forced to break away when Ally noticed, “who are we looking at?” You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want anyone to know. You stop her from turning, “I thought I saw someone I went to high school with,” you look back up, Peter disappeared. 

“False alarm.” 

-----

It was just you and Spider-Man in your room. 

His plush body laid across your chest, your arms wrapped tight around had flattened him. You spent your day watching Netflix, but after hours it became boring and you switched to scrolling through your phone, hopping between apps before you ended on instagram. 

You clutched Spider-Man tighter when you hit the search tab, his name popping up first. He never used his main account, three posts from the past two years. You found his burner account, it was set to private. You wanted nothing more than to push that request to follow, but he didn’t know you like that just yet. 

The second you were allowed to follow Peter Parker’s finsta, you’d plow through all one hundred and twelve posts, analyzing each one. You chew your lip for a moment and go to Ally’s page, searching through her followers you see his account, you debate on getting her phone and stalk that way, but it feels like cheating. 

It’s eight pm and you think nothing other than frozen yogurt would stop your obsession, so you grabbed your keycard and left Spider-Man to keep your spot warm. 

You had an early class the next day and a party with three people you could talk to, one of them being someone that would forsure be in your bed. If only Peter would have you in his bed first. If you were being honest, you’d love to see Peter fight for you. 

It’s only slightly exhausting being delusional. 

The food hall was dead and you went from mildly hungry to starving the second you smelled food, detoring for a quick sandwich you stuffed it in your bag before crossing the floor for your sweet treat. A prickle on the back of your neck told you to look to your left, at a table with his brothers, was Peter Parker. 

It felt like a gravitational pull, you manifested him being in your life since last year and it’s finally happening. The next time you and Prince go out you’re pulling him into a psychic’s shop for a reading. You were caught by who you think was Tarrent, if you remember correctly, he hooked up with Natalie your freshman year. 

Blue eyes met yours, just the smallest hint of a smile. It sent you turning your head and stepping behind the bathroom wall for a breather, hiding in embarrassment. You counted to thirty before peeking your head from around the corner, Tarrent kept your secret, no one was looking at you. 

This time, watching yourself, you don’t bump into anyone in line for frozen yogurt. You’d hate for another lesson in spatial awareness, unless it’s coming from Peter, in that case you’d take any kind of conversation. 

Even when he’s berating you he’s pretty. 

Leaving with your cup of dessert you watch Peter walk right by you, hearing his mumbles of a Beastie Boys song. You couldn’t help yourself, a chance at hello. It was an opportunity to have a normal conversation, maybe more of his shining character would come through. Taking a seat at a hightop near the bathrooms you wait until your target comes out. 

Humming at the taste of sugar hitting your tongue you look over to his table, you notice Ethan and you hope he doesn’t notice you too. To put it bluntly, you didn’t want Peter thinking he had competition. You don’t even consider Harvey Guyn as competition, he was just a good fuck. He didn’t get dinner with you or take you on dates, and you didn’t want that. At least not from him. 

Harvey’s conversations were dry and always built around impressing the people around him. He had great successes for someone his age, but daddy’s money didn’t impress you much.

You sit straighter when you hear the bathroom door open, listening to Peter mumble rap a chorus you jumped in, “another girl, another fight.” He jumped slightly, surprised to see you sitting right next to him. Taking another bite you stare in his eyes while you wrap your tongue around the spoon, Peter sounds breathless when he speaks. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, Peter.” 

The look on his face told you if he didn’t notice you before, he did now. Did you just stand out from the crowd with one word? You think so. Peter clears his throat lightly, “and you are…” he wants you to fill in the blank, you find some joy in being mysterious, even if it’s just for another night. You pluck your spoon from your mouth, a wide smirk paints on your lips. 

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” It mildly annoyed him and it made your stomach tug, something about his expression made you happy to bother him. Until he called your bluff, you might have planned this one interaction but everywhere else he just seems to notice you. You’ve always had a wandering eye for him but he’s just now catching on. 

Giving him a scouts honor, you promise you haven’t been following him, because you haven’t. It’s that universal pull, each time you’re around him it’s like you’re tasting air while also being breathless. He’s pretty, too pretty for his own good. 

Peter’s tempting even when he’s slightly misogynistic, you think he likes your attitude. If there’s one thing you learned, it’s that a man likes it when he has to do a little chasing. You have an early class and Spider-Man at home. 

Sliding from your seat, your shoes squeak on the linoleum. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” Dare you boldly claim he looked a little disappointed? It seemed like he was. You wish him a goodnight and he returns it, you can’t stop your satisfied smile when you feel him watching you leave. 

Quickly stomping up the stairs you look back at Peter’s table, you escaped with only one person looking back at you. Tarrent shoots you a wink, it wasn’t one that was directed at you, but directed at your actions. He knows nothing of you but you have his support, it makes you curious at best, cautious at worst. You stare at the floor until you reach the door, pushing out and taking in the fresh air. 

It didn’t feel as refreshing as when you were with Peter. You shrug it off, you already had someone waiting back at home. 

Spider-Man’s just as dependent on you as you are him.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

Morning classes sucked because they were in the morning. Morning classes were awesome because you felt like you focused better, and there was a better student to teacher ratio. Ally whined when your alarm went off, you stood with her in solidarity, because fuck waking up to a slow steady build of music. 

“Sorry, roomie.” 

Her hand poked from a blanket, waving you off from across the room. You weren’t sure if it was in annoyance or understanding. She had another hour before her class and she was planning to crush thirty of those minutes by hitting snooze. 

You moved quickly and quietly, only packing what was needed, and opting for an oversized university hoodie sans your bra. You believed in one thing, casual friday; and you honor it every week. Silently shutting your dorm door you cruise down the hallway, taking in the deep silence and empty scene. 

You weren’t a morning person at all, you preferred to wake up slowly and on your own terms, most times hitting snooze way too many times. But you loved the slow calm of the morning, watching the sun fully rise, hearing birds scream the earth awake, feeling empathy for every person with tired, puffy eyes. 

Morning’s were gentle, and sometimes you really enjoyed gentle. Friday was your creative writing class and you think it’ll be your favorite for the next year. 

Your hypothesis proved true because your professor was the hottest silver fox you’ve ever seen. Every fantasy of being bent over your teachers desk was racing through your mind, you didn’t know how you could ever pay attention. 

When he talks, his words curl around your ears, a stubble buzz in your stomach makes you focus in on his lips, watching them pout around ‘S’s. “Hey,” she was late, but Noa was there. “Hey,” you whisper back. 

Her smirk is devilish, “talk to Trent yet?” It’d be a punishment until you finished your plan, then she’d let it die. It’s something to do with making her efforts worth it, and making you owe her a favor. You almost regret asking her, but the payoff is worth the narcissism. 

Since freshman year, you, Ally, Prince and Natalie made a bet on one person rushing to make it into full recruitment. Sarah joined last year but backed out this year, she’d be too busy in her nursing classes, she made it pretty clear she’d be absent this year. 

When it started everyone pitched in a hundred bucks, Natalie won. Last year everyone pitched in five hundred, Ally won. You love your friends, but it left a sour taste in your mouth that people who didn’t need the extra pocket money won. 

You weren’t lying when you had a summer job, but it was quickly drained with class and book payments. None of your friends had to worry about that. So, when you found out that your high school friend's ex-boyfriend's little brother was rushing for Sigma Nu, a plan formed. 

You upped the stakes this year, big time. Tripling the honey pot by three, fifteen hundred each. That was half of your summer job money, but the payoff was worth the temporary loss. You had an in at the frat and you knew how much the competition games meant, being number one fraternity was the most important thing for Sig Nu, especially after losing it last year to Alpha Delta. 

Next step was getting someone to secure the information, enter Noa. She had cracked into every frat on campus and gotten the files, printed them out and completed the job with a pretty folder. It was Noa’s idea to get dirt on Trent, you commended her for her smarts, she claimed she just really hated him. 

The real plan was making sure your pledge made it in and no other friends won so you wouldn’t have to share the honey pot. It was skeevy and made you feel slightly dirty, but sometimes you have to play in the mud so you can eat dinner for the year. 

As long as no one found out, you’d be okay. Although, deep in your heart you know that while your friends would feel betrayed at first, they’d understand and come around. Mostly because Matt would use some christian wisdom on them and smite them into forgiveness. 

“Tonight.” Noa nods, “you impress me, friend. You really, really do.” You give a nervous smile at your new professor when he calls you out for talking, with his wise smirk, you believe Peter Parker may have some competition. 

—----------------

At fifteen past four, you got the message you’ve been waiting on, you bit your lip and opened the text, the contact saved as Harvey G. 

‘You’re coming to the party tonight, right?’ 

��Just for you 😊’ 

‘I love when you lie to me, it really gets me going.’ 

‘You know what gets me going? Fucking you on a twin XL.’ 

‘Dirty talk, that’s my girl.’ 

‘Wear something pretty for me and I’ll let you call me daddy tonight.’ 

‘You wish.’ 

You’d be wearing something pretty tonight, but not for Harvey. You were dressing up for the pure intention of catching Peter Parker’s eye. It was a personal mission to turn you from a backup plan to number one, worse comes to worse, you’d pull out the best friend card and use Ethan as a pawn. Harvey was a set hookup, you didn’t need to impress him with anything. You’ve never even slept in the same bed, and you didn’t care to. He looked like a snorer. 

Sending a quick text to Ally to try and figure out the game plan, she responds with a very general answer, so you text Prince to come over and entertain you. He responded with a salute emoji, ‘prepare to be entertained.’ 

—--------

You and Prince are tilting your head at the same angle, you’re trying to make sense of what you were seeing but the proportions weren’t adding up. It didn’t seem natural, you block out the exaggerated moaning and follow in tilting your head the opposite way when the camera switches positions. 

“I mean… that couldn’t… feel good… right?” Prince is looking for your opinion, you nod with him. “Yeah, I don’t… this can’t be real, right?” It’s like you've been heard, the camera angle changes and you’re staring at a man’s asshole as he piledrives into his female co-star. Prince gasps with you, “oh my god! How is she doing that?!” You whistle low, “drugs, Prince. Lots and lots of drugs.” Suddenly, Prince becomes interested. 

“You know, sometimes I forget how much the female body amazes me.” You narrow your eyes, “call me a female again, I dare you.” Prince’s voice squeaks, “no thank you, you powerful, beautiful woman.” You pat his green hair, “good boy.” 

For once, Ally entered into your dorm without Matt following behind. Prince clapped and told her he was proud she could walk inside all by herself. Her response was, “aw, you’re so cute when you’re lonely.” Prince pretended to bite her.

“So,” Ally opened her tote bag and pulled out a paper bag filled with Sammi’s Sandwiches. “Wanna eat and get ready?” Prince starts bowing, you follow suit.

 “All hail queen Ally.” 

“Damn right, bitches.” 

The second you took your last bite Ally had you in front of your closet mirror while she stood behind you with two shirts on hangers, alternating to hold up each one over your torso. 

“Ugh, I wanted you in the green but I think the black would be better.” “Yeah, I think if I hang around Prince it’ll be too much green, ya know?” Prince coughed and breadcrumbs spewed. “I’m sorry, you think you’ll be hanging out with me instead of Harvey?” 

“I can’t exactly go in there, grab him, and get out, can I?” Your roommate nods while she fixes your hair, “you absolutely can, I do it with Matty all the time.” You roll your eyes at her in the mirror, “that’s different, you guys are like… common law married at this point.” 

Prince is sitting sideways in a chair letting the blood rush to his head, he sits up slightly and slips out a possibility while you adjust your bra strap. “What are the chances Harvey gets so plastered tonight you won’t hookup?” 

The elastic snaps on your shoulder when you give him a cold glare, “don’t even try to be funny.” He grins wickedly and presses his thumbs to his middle fingers, “not funny, babe. Manifesting.” 

Ally has to hold you back when you lurch at him. 

—--------------

You’re lucky you have Prince to keep Ally occupied, you’re a little too lost in your thoughts as you all walk towards frat row. Keeping your arms to your chest you conserve heat, it’s starting to get chilly at night. The first thing you wanted to do was get Trent out of the way, then you’d chat with Ethan while you scope the scene for Peter. Oh god, Harvey. You had too many men to entertain tonight, it would be near impossible to keep them from bumping into each other outside your revolving door. 

You just had to play calm and make a game plan. Number one would be Trent, number two would be Harvey, so you could make plans for after the party, number three would be Ethan and certainly not least, you’d be keeping an eye on Peter Parker. Your palms feel clammy thinking about your secret with Trent, you push each plan back by one. The first step would be getting some liquid courage. Brought back to life by gentle bantering, your opinion is needed. 

“I could totally ice Matt out, right?” 

“Bro, I have two hundred on it right now.” 

“You think I can’t live without him?” You butt in, “no, but you can’t let him think you’re mad at him. Even when you’re fighting you tell him you’re not mad at him. It’s gross.” Prince nods while Ally gasps in offense, “I’d love to see it, I think he’d have a mental breakdown.” 

“Is it so terrible of me that I don’t like making my boyfriend sad?” 

You hang an arm around Ally’s neck and pull her in, “it makes you a better girlfriend than I could ever be.” She giggles and hangs onto you, “I think frat boys like that, maybe it’s time you start sleeping with a member and not alumni.” 

You’re not hiding anything out of spite, but because you felt like you wanted to figure it out on your own. And she’s a little pushy, if you were to spill on Peter before ready she’d try everything possible to get Matt involved. Sometimes Ally’s wingmanning ruined potential hookups, and by sometimes, it’s every time. “Ha. Good one.” 

Prince steps in to hand his arm around your neck, you three of you stumbling in unison. “Don’t worry, friend. You’ll have your pick on the ski trip.” You flashed a smile, following a crowd of bodies across the crosswalk.

Letting each other go when you hit the first frat house you fix your shirt. Ally was right, it looked really good on you.

There were at least forty kids waiting to get in, only two members on door duty. Following freshmen up the steps you smile at a brother, Prince pays his entrance fee while you hold hands with Ally. 

You take a deep breath, and release it when you step in the house.

Welcome to the start of the year.

[whxr3ss]

DRAIN YOU.

warnings: smut, size kink? restraints (bondage), eating out, all the juicy stuff. if you're uncomfy, click off my loves! minors, dni!

summary: you and izzy have been together, but you've wanted to try something with him.

pairing: izzy stradlin x reader.

authors note: goshh, i made this so late. i'm writing more for you guys! request some things and i'll definitely get back to yall! love you guys, stay hydrated and hope you enjoy this you hornets.

you crawled up against izzy. tapping his shoulder gently, but almost needlessly, his head weakly dressed it's way towards you. he gave you a soft look, cigarette hanging in between his lips. his gaze was still on you as he pulled the grazing cigarette out his mouth. smoke puffed out his mouth. "what's goin' baby?" he mumbled to you. you smiled and bit ur bottom lip softly. "nothinn," you giggled, while you looked at him giggly. he rolled his eyes and smiled, now nudging you with an eager ponder. "what is it? cmon, you tapped me. what's wrong babygirl?" he raised a brow, his black hair falling short to his shoulders with his slight smile. you sighed and pouted. "i was thinking, what if we try something new?" you questioned, now snaking in a hush towards izzy. he wrapped a palm around the back of your neck, his other hand flicked the cigarette against the ash-tray, placing it down as some smoke poured up. he now moved his other hand to your waist, curving his fingers in the curve of your hips. "what baby? what is it? we can tr-" he was cut off by you, "bondage. y'know.. ropes, ties. being restrained," you eagerly spoke, getting up close to his lips. your lips, and his lips were almost touching at this point. "we can try that baby," he whispered, seductively smelling in your pheromones. he now moved you underneath him, as his body inched on top of you.

he hummed, now getting into your neck. as you would usually grab the back of his head with ur hand, he gently stopped you. he grabbed both ur wrists, putting them tightly together as his hand. he was much larger than you. taller and leaner. he held your hands together as you whimpered, your legs closing together. "mmhm," you cried out quietly, tucked in a whimper as he used his other hand to rub your clit through your panties that was tucked underneath your skirt. he rubbed there with two fingers, while you arched your body back and then your head, while it almost hit the head-board. he gave you a smirk, leaving purple hickey's coating your inner neck, and such. he sucked at the skin, leaving the blood rising to the surface and leaving the skin aching for more of his vampire-laced kisses. he moved down more, your tank top straps were falling off your shoulders. he moved the hand that was pleading against your clit and he used it to tear your tank top off your body. of course, being the hornball you were, you weren't wearing a bra. but you were wearing panties. logic? no where to be seen or found. as he slipped the ripped white tank away, he rugged at your skirt, lifting it down and around ur ankles, and off you completely.

he tossed these away, "so eager for me baby?" he cooed, hushing you. "mmgh, izzy," you pleaded. "what? use your words, y'know the rule honey," izzy teased at you, and you whispered, "i want you.. please- e-eat me out," you specifically asked, as izzy nodded. "good girl,," he praised, now kissing in between your breasts, he left tiny marks, as one hand, free hand, kneaded at your breast. he moved down to your stomach, you were still restrained and needy for him. he kissed your stomach, kissing at your curves and hips, before using his teeth to pull your underwear down. izzy removed his teeth as he slipped them off with the hem curled between two fingers downward off you. he teased your clit. "so fuckin' wet. goddamn babygirl," izzy cooed, rubbing at your pussy while he felt the wetness soak onto his fingers and at the palm of his hand. withered without warning, he shoved two fingers inside of you. you let out a rushed moan, moaning loudly while you tossed back, closing in between his hand with your thighs. "nono, spread them f'me. don't cover that pretty pussy," izzy snarled, now using his free hand to forcefully pull your thighs apart, holding one down as his elbow held the other down with his other arm, since his one hand was attached to your wrists, as you felt ur wrists start to bruise. ever so slightly.

izzy moved his head down in between your legs. "you ready sweetheart?" izzy questioned, you nodded. he smacked your inner thigh that was being spread apart. "words," he growled, and you then spoke up with a squeak, "yes, i'm ready izzy, please-" you cooed out needlessly. he nodded with a chuckle and a smirk cocked at the lips. he began to flick his tongue at your clit, before sucking on such. his mouth worked at your pussy, fingering you with one hand as he tore his hand away from ur thigh that was forcefully spread apart. he looked up at you, as he licked and sucked at your clit, he firstly licked a stripe up your pussy, now licking your labia and vagina, his tongue slipping inside of you. he sucked at your clit, his nose increased the pleasure as you felt shock waves shoot up your spine and stomach, your insides twitching as you felt your thighs tighten. your trembling hands weakened as he refused to let you move. getting up, he took his black skinny scarf and wrapped it around your wrists and aroujd the headboard. you struggled, whimpering. "izzy- i'm gonna- cu-cum," you moaned out whimpering softly as izzy murmured, lifting his head up. "cum on my face pretty girl," izzy grunted, now continuing until he felt cum drip onto his tongue and face. his hands gripped at your aching thighs.

he lifted his head up. "was that fun baby girl?" he snickered, cleaning his face off. "mmhhhm, can you untie me now?" you giggled. maybe you wanted more. "who said we're done pretty girl?" izzy cooed. "izzy!" you tossed ur head back and kicked ur feet giggling with ur bubbly laugh. you bit ur bottom lip. "unless?" he questioned.

[nburkhardt]

Every Time You Shine, I’ll Shine For You.

Soooo this was originally going to be full one shot, but I’ve decided since it’s been sitting in my drafts for months, that I’m just going to post it as either an unfinished piece for now. I might try to come up with a second half but for now enjoy this soulmate au ✨

Having a soulmark wasn’t necessary for Steve. Sure, seeing the word- the nickname his soulmate will eventually call him is nice. But it’s not needed, not in his eyes at least.

At the age of five years old, everyone in the world gets a nickname on their wrist. It’s fate telling you your perfect match, that the other half of your soul is out there for you. It’s the ultimate fairytale growing up, that it burns when you hear the nickname said by your soulmate and there’s an instant spark, instant connection. It’s the bedtime story, the ultimate love story and something to wish for.

It’s a wish everyone wants but Steve Harrington.

He has a very good reason to not like the idea of having a “perfect match” out there for you. While he heard the stories and sees the potential in it, he grew up watching his parents be in love without being actual soulmates. Hears stories of their love and ideas of finding love on your own, deciding to show the world that they don’t need fate’s help.

It’s beautiful and he wants that. Wants to make his own story, find his own match. There’s no need for fate to help him.

On his fifth birthday, he watched ‘Dingus’ appear on his wrist, it made him pout while his parents laughed and kiss his head, told him not to worry. That he doesn’t have to be with whoever fate picked for him and joked about only being five.

It eases his five year old mind.

His parents aren’t surprised to watch him grow up to be a true romantic, isn’t surprised to see his love in everything and how having a soul mark doesn’t stop him from having crushes or falling in love.

Life goes on but after some failed relationships and the disaster of a relationship with Nancy; seeing the nickname give him some hope that somewhere out there, there is someone for him. Someone who fate decided is his match, which growing up he hated it.

At eighteen, he really thought he’d already be with the person he’d love forever (and who would love him). But instead of that, he’s single and not at all close to figuring out why fate’s pick for him would call him “dingus” of all things. To top it all of he’s stuck working at the new Scoops Ahoy until he hears back from the colleges he applied too.

The uniform is lame, it’s in the middle of the brand new mall and it’s leaning towards being too cold in the shop and he doesn’t even know his coworker yet, hopefully they’re not expecting him to be some big shot like he was in high school.

Those days are long gone, he’d rather be his lame and hopeless romantic self instead of the asshole keg king he was.

His first week of working is spent being laughed at by ex-teammates, being ignored by his only coworker and failing to get at least a date with someone. It’s not his longest week, but it’s real close.

After a total of three weeks of getting ignored and laughed at by people he flirts with, his coworker, Robin decides enough is enough and- “maybe with this you’ll try harder”

Glancing behind him, she’s standing there with the whiteboard from the back but instead of the random doodles she drew, it looks like a score board with You Rule/You Suck on it.

There’s already three tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and he can’t figure out if it makes him want to laugh or cry, maybe both.

Definitely both.

“At least I’m trying here, you could find your soulmate with flirting!”

Robin rolls her eyes and hangs the board up behind her, “I’d rather suck on a lemon than flirt with guys”

It surprises him for all of three seconds before he rolls his eyes, whatever, he thinks. If she wants to miss the opportunity to find a soulmate, so be it. He’ll continue trying to find love, he doesn’t need whoever fate picked.

The board is definitely mocking him, he thinks several days later. Currently there’s five tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and a big fat nothing under ‘You Rule’. Robin thinks it’s the funniest thing on the planet.

He doesn’t find it funny, he finds it embarrassing and stupid, actually. Really embarrassing, especially when she brings it out when another girl their age walks in. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose.

Which is confusing, she told him explicitly that she does not like him and will only ever tolerate him. So, her practically chasing people away doesn’t make sense.

Her loud crackle of a laugh starts as his head nearly hits the counter, “That’s another one for the you suck column! Zero for the you rule, popeye!”

Standing up he turns around with a glare, “yeah I can read!”

“You sure about that one, Dingus?”

His wrist burns and he can’t stop his eyes from going wide. There’s no way, absolutely no way. This is a fluke, she must have seen his mark one day. That’s why his soulmate mate, fate’s pick, is his co-worker.

His disbelief and discomfort most show on his face because Robin shifts on her feet, “I’m uh, sorry. If I took that too far, really-uh I don’t think that way about you and, and- this is was” she looks uncomfortable now, tripping over her words.

Opening his mouth to calm her down, he find that his words are gone. The disbelief stopping him. He quickly shuts it and looks away from her. The shop is completely empty. When did that happen?

“Steve- I really didn’t mean to be well, mean.”

All he can do is nod back, “no, uh, I get it. Really- uh. It’s fine.”

How exactly is he supposed to do this? He’s never once called her a nickname! Unless she was his but he isn’t hers? He doesn’t know. Either way he’s still a little disappointed.

“You sure? Because uh, you’re looking a little pale there”

A laugh bubbles up and before he realizes it he’s on the ground with his back against the counter and tears on his face, “ye-yeah. Sorry.”

He hears her move around and then there’s a foot bumping his, he moves his head to look at her.

“We’re currently low on everything, did you know that? It’s unbelievable, just wiped clean.” Robin explains with amusement dancing on her face, “Scoops Ahoy is officially closed for the day”

That surprises a laugh out of him as tries to loosen the tension that built up, moving his arms he puts his chin on his knee, Robin copies him. They’re just looking at each other, comfortable in this silence.

“Sooo”

“Look-”

Their eyes meet and both burst out laughing. This feels different, at least for Steve. There’s something soothing coursing through him now, he never felt on edge with Robin but he wasn’t always this comfortable either. A smile spreading on his face, he didn’t know about this feeling when you meet your soulmate.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorts, “they might be worth more, Birdie”

Robin gasps and he looks at her, but her eyes are wide and locked on her wrist. He follows her look and he can’t exactly see what she’s looking at but he knows it’s her soul mark.

They really are soulmates.

This is where I’d put the continuation… if I had the idea for it! (Said in that fairlyodd parents meme)

Anyway! If this brought you some inspiration, you can totally take whatever piece you want and write something! But please know I had this ending up as Steddie with side of Rockie (Vickie&Robin)

Permanent taglist: @spectrum-spectre @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @bookworm0690 @strangersteddierthings

[toomanywatchers]

My Thoughts on WatcherTV

Hi, I am here to put away my meme-making skills to express my genuine thoughts on Watcher’s announcement; WatcherTV. Before I get into it, this is for any of those at Team Watcher who might be seeing this message: Just know we love and support everything you do for us. Y’all truly do not get the credit you rightfully deserve. I hope with this change to a separate streaming platform you guys can create the content you want to make, pull in creators that you’ve always wanted to work with, and share voices/topics that may have not had the chance to shine because of YouTube’s heinous algorithm. I know myself, and many others, are excited to see what WatcherTV brings. For instance, I already watched Road Files and the trailer for Travel Season on the new platform. And guess what? I love it! I just love BTS-centric shows and seeing the vibes established on Travel Season. Along with more Lizzie/possibly-more-sightings-of-other-Team-Watcher-peeps content?!? If this is what holds for the future of WatcherTV- oh boy, do you already have me more on board than I already was.

I also send my sincerest regards too. We all know that the internet can be a negative space with many sharing their uncensored thoughts, and I hope none of you take the hate to heart. I also hope you can take the weekend to breathe, drink some water, spend time with loved ones, and celebrate this huge step you all are embarking on. I am truly excited to see what is to come on WatcherTV will be there with each step to support.

Now to my fellow fans of Watcher. I understand the concern and it is okay to have concerns. It shows that you truly care for Watcher as a company and don’t want anything negative to come about with this decision. BUT on the other hand, spreading hateful messages? Not. Fucking. Cool. It is quite simple to express concern in an appropriate/respectful manner. Remember, this is a company full of living and breathing human beings. Trying to justify “who is to blame” and pointing fingers is just childish. Guess what? No one is to blame, it was a company-wide decision that they all made and spent months upon months to create.

Yes, it does suck to see content that was free for years be moved to a paywall, but remember they are independent artists that have to pay employees, freelancers, locations, and themselves! Have we not been advocating for fair pay among creative individuals when it comes to WGA/SAG-AFTRA strikes and then AI art taking jobs away from artists? If this is what the company needs to do to survive while not sacrificing the high-quality content they make for us, then we should give it a shot! Plus with the current discount available, the subscription is not that pricey for the amount of shows they produce! Literally for January and a bit of February, they were uploading 2 podcasts and 2 separate shows… that’s a lot of content! If you have never sat down to produce, direct, write, perform, edit, and all other aspects it takes to make a fine-polished YouTube video, it takes a lot of work!

To add to this, Watcher already makes content that far expands past what is recognized as normal for YouTube. They build individual sets for each show that is produced, and they travel all over the place for Ghost Files and soon-to-be Travel Season. It costs money to produce content and YouTube?- It’s just not how it was years and years ago. Views on long-form content have been dipping and with the over-saturation of sponsorships, I am assuming they are not making enough profit to sustain the business on the current platform. Also, monetization on YouTube has been a killer for many channels because of vulgar language issues and just being demonetized for no rhyme or reason. By moving over to a streaming platform of their own they can continue to create what they want to create, and make it without any restrictions or rules holding them back. Too pricey? Find some friends who also like the content and split the pricing evenly. Only want to watch certain shows? Then make a monthly subscription for the time that show airs. There are many solutions that you guys see as a huge problem, and don’t get me wrong I have my concerns. I shared those concerns briefly in my theory post about them still being a young channel, but I’m also unaware of the actual analytics and revenue that is currently being brought in currently to the company from YouTube alone. 

It’s a huge step that has garnered negative feedback from those spreading hateful messages about the company and to other individuals for supporting the boys *cough cough I see your messages and comments cough cough* is truly uncalled for. I will be taking a bit of a break from my socials as I wait out the storm though if I have the energy, I might stream on Twitch again and talk through this with y’all if you can sit down and have a civil discussion. As for now, it’s your choice if you continue to support. My goal is to continue to make funny little memes, and if I am allowed to I will be working on a crack video pt.2 after Travel Season premieres. Remember to be kind and to put yourselves in their shows. Just the boys even though they are receiving the brunt of the hate, but for everyone at the company.

Your local memester watcherina - Fritz.

[trainsinanime]

The thing is: It is not actually obvious and self-explanatory that you don’t leave negative comments on fanfic and fan art. It’s certainly not against any terms and conditions even if anybody did read these, and sites like Fanfiction.net actively encourage pointing out negative things with their “review” verbiage. I can totally see why people think negative comments are allowed.

And “don’t leave negative reviews” is arguably an innovation. Just ten, fifteen years ago, the rules of fandom were different. The rule then was to leave “constructive criticism”. That changed. Obviously it depends a lot on the specific subculture you’re looking at, both then and now, but overall there has been a shift and it’s understandable that people who were comfortable with the old ways aren’t on board with that.

But on the flip side, I think the new way is just better. It’s more fun to see fun comments and to leave fun comments. The truth about constructive criticism is that most “constructive criticism” actually wasn’t, it was just criticism with a random unhelpful “why don’t you try this thing” thrown in. Doing real constructive criticism requires skill, and also that you trust the author and that the author trusts you, all of which are hard to come by on the internet. Ultimately it just boils down to a more wordy version of “you suck”. And I know that there are people who argue that they have a right to say “you suck”, even without any constructive criticism, and I think technically, that’s true. But you won’t be able to make bad fanfics disappear. You’ll just spread a bit of misery around. In the long term, that’s less fun.

We sometimes treat fanfic like big published literature, and yes, a very small number of stories may end up being so impactful that they deserve it. But that’s a rare exception. The default in fanfic is that we’re all just here to have fun, and it’s way more fun to engage with fanfics from a positive point of view, and just ignore the fanfics that aren’t to your liking. That’s the real criteria: Does my comment make the fandom more fun? Unasked for criticism just doesn’t, as it turns out.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Iphicles (Male!Reader x Percy Jackson PLATONIC)

Big brother!reader x Percy Jackson PLATIONIC Just headcanons of him protecting and helping and just genuinely being a good brother please 🥹

tw angst, mentions of emotional and physical domestic abuse, injury

NOTE: I was thinking of making this a series and continuing it through to Last Olympian. This one doesn't have as much Percy x big brother interaction, but think of it as a setup. Let me know if you want more!

Did you know Heracles had a brother?

While Heracles was the son of Zeus and Alcmene, Alcmene had a husband already - Amphitryon, a mortal man. So there were two babies in the crib - the child of a god and the child of a mortal.

This child was named Iphicles. And while he was never as strong as his brother, he was a powerful warrior in his own right, and accompanied his brother on his quest.

You think about this myth a lot.

You're about four when you meet Poseidon. He went by Yuri then, and it was only later you found out it was short for one of his other names, Eurykreion, which meant wide-ruling.

Yuri loves your mom, you know that. But it's hard, that year, when they get close, and you start to get attached to this guy who might be a father figure to you, and he vanishes.

Leaving your mom pregnant, and you with nothing.

Nothing but a brother with a weird name.

You're ten when Mom meets Gabe. Gabe seems kinda cool at first. He lets you ride in the front seat of his Camaro when he takes you to school, teaches you how to open his beer bottles on the corner of a table (oh what a red flag that turned out to be), and he takes an interest in you, when most of your life since Percy has been about the really weird stuff that starts to happen around him.

You remember screaming when you saw that snake in Percy's crib.

You're pretty sure that that lady who tried to take Percy from his stroller wasn't just wearing a funky coat, and actually had wings.

Or that bus driver with the one eye.

Mom freaks out you bring home a book about Greek myths from the library. She bans you from showing it to Percy.

And that's when it kinda clicks. These monsters you read about... they're part of the world, but they fit in differently. They're not robbers on the dangerous roads between Athens and Thebes, they're mattress salesmen and reclusive sculptors, and kindly old women on the bus, and teachers that constantly demean your little brother for his dyslexia.

Like, you're ten, and MOM can barely even say dyslexia, so how could your six year old little brother figure it out?

And then Gabe shows his true colors. All the little warning signs that could be forgiven from a nice guy start to balloon to almost comic proportions.

You've been a good big brother to Percy. Yeah, it's your job to take care of him, but you love him too. He's tiny and adorable and afraid of everything, and you just wanna show him that things can be good. Like the blue food your mom makes, or the little moments you can make for him that aren't weird or worrying.

But then Gabe tears your little brother away. Percy gets sent off to boarding school after boarding school. For six long years, the only time you see your brother is during the summer, or when he gets expelled.

Part of you wonders if he feels that same sibling bond, if he wants to leave his fancy schools to get back to you.

Gabe's a shit. Way more when the little kid isn't around, and as you get older, he gets bolder, more willing to get nasty the less you look like a baby.

You try not to get bitter, but it sucks so much, living like this. Your mom works soul-crushing hours at that candy store, and her mean boss says you can't just hang out there after school anymore cause you'll distract her.

You wander New York as long as you can after school rather than be alone with Gabe.

And the one time you tried to talk to a counselor at school, she perked up oddly and mentioned your little brother Perseus (how did she even know?) and her eyes changed color and you ran as fast as you could.

You feel angry at the world. At Gabe. At your mother, for letting your brother get sent away, for doing nothing when Gabe yelled at you for no reason, for all the little things, and at yourself for blaming her, for being powerless yourself, for barely recognizing Percy when he gets home, for almost hoping he gets expelled soon so he can reunite with you sooner.

You've had suspicions since you were nine. You turn sixteen and you scream at the Harlem River, daring Poseidon to fight you.

And for any other mortal, he wouldn't show up, but a hand lands on your shoulder and you turn to punch Yuri in the gut.

Your hand breaks, but he pulls a starfish out of his pocket and plasters it over your hand and you can feel the bones mending, and you both sit and talk.

The gods are real.

And they suck.

Your mom refused his offer of a palace under the sea, and you can't decide whether to hate her for it or hate Poseidon for dating your mom when he's already married and he knew he couldn't stay.

He's never been there for Percy. Never been there for your mom. Never been there for you.

Gabe hits her, does he know that? How long until he starts hitting you? Hitting Percy?

How long before the dwindling light goes out?

You hate him so much, you growl, but he hugs you and all the fight leaves, like the tide finally setting back out.

You are not his son, but in that moment you are of the sea, and he understands you.

You are the son of Sally Jackson, the brother of Perseus, and you will be the Earthshaker where the Earthshaker himself cannot tread.

It doesn't change anything, but when Poseidon finally says it, finally says "I am sorry," it moves you. There is someone out there that can see and acknowledge your suffering. Poseidon has lost countless children, was eaten by his own father, betrayed by his brothers. He has witnessed the entire breadth of humanity, and yet in this moment, a god apologizes for the woes of a mortal.

You are sixteen when you meet a god.

He will not be the last.

Poseidon kisses your forehead, drenching you in seafoam as he vanishes, and you feel reborn.

You are worn smooth by waves, hardened by salty brine, and you bide your time, even bringing yourself to smile at Gabe when you get home. You make the bean dip so Mom can rest when she gets home, and you smirk when Gabe is visibly shaken by your confidence.

You wait, because like Poseidon said, Percy is getting older, and things may come to pass. He will need a guardian, a guide.

There is a place for children of the gods, like him.

Camp Half-Blood.

[robinsboobshoes]

❝ MEETING ROBIN BUCKLEY. ❞

↳ In which you flirt through your mutual friend, Steve.

Everything is all vividly coloured, with neon-coloured lights, water fountains, crowded tables and various children's rides, like the carousel and the Indiana Flyer. People are packing everywhere, all with brightly lit expressions stretching across their faces, following along with family and friends in huddles. The town of Hawkins is already a hellhole, with or without a new mall, and nothing can possibly change that.

Your eyes darted around, hoping to find the potential ice-cream shop you'd heard about. Your search quickly ends, once you see a brightly coloured store, with a red lettering sign reading: Scoops Ahoy!

You got to the store with unexpected difficulties, after pushing countless people out of the way and getting some foul words and looks in return. Already, you can hear some outstandingly cheesy sailor music playing loudly, making your nose scrunch up in disgust.

The interior is somehow worse. The walls are covered with blue, red and white striped wallpaper while seating booths are placed around the ice-cream parlour, red leathered and shiny. It was quite shocking to you that it was almost empty, since, Starcourt Mall had just opened. Logically, wouldn't people crowd around an ice-cream parlour on a summer morning?

You walked up to the counter to find Steve, a tall teenager your age, with styled hair and an ego too large for anyone to handle. You hit your hand on the bell that's on the corner of the front counter, causing Steve to bring his attention back to reality, rather than dozing off in his thoughts mid-task.

“Ahoy!” Steve greets from the register, not bothering to look up from whatever he had been occupied by.

“Wow, this place really complements the look." You taunted, smirking, when he finally spots you. The sailor theme is rather hilarious.

“Y/n?” Steve smiled, leaning on the counter as he takes you in, “What’re you doing here so early? My shift doesn't finish for hours.”

“I needed to kill some time,” You shrug, “I thought I'd pay my favourite sailor a visit.”

Steve puffs, opening his mouth to respond. But, before he can say anything, another voice pipes up from around the corner. It's raspy, laced with sarcasm.

“He’s only your favourite sailor because you haven’t met me yet," At the hatch behind Steve is a tall girl with broad shoulders, a tall figure and a careless posture. She has her hands placed on the further counter, while she starts twirling a black ring around her middle finger. She has black bracelets and a watch on one wrist, a spiked bracelet on the opposite. Both hands are painted with black nail polish, which shine in the light, presumably because they are newly painted. She was, like Steve, also dressed in a ridiculous uniform, which she somehow made look attractive. “I promise I’m much better company.”

“Well, you certainly look better in the uniform.” You look her up and down, chuckling, as she returns a flirtatious grin.

Steve looks pathetic as he starts running a hand down the front of his ludicrous smock, “I think I make this thing work pretty well for me.”

The girl scoffs, wide-eyed, “The loser board says otherwise, Dingus.” She calls, pointing at the whiteboard that's propping up next to her. The board is split in two: one side had, "You Rule!" written above it, and, the opposite side, "You Suck!". With no surprises, The 'You Rule!' side has no marks below it, whereas the other has a large amount of five drawn on.

You laugh at this, fingers tapping against the glass of the countertop, as you look at the board, then back to her, “Things can only go downhill when he’s forced to use words.”

She laughs with you briefly, then taps her name badge with her finger, "I'm Robin, in case you didn't know. Robin Buckley."

You raise your left eyebrow, "I do recall being in most of your classes, y'know. Just because I hang around with Steve doesn't mean I'm a complete moron."

Steve pouts from where he stands, arms crossing defiantly over his chest, “This is not a duo I'm here for at all. I think we should have a rule that you two are not allowed within thirty feet of each other."

“You always try to keep me away from the pretty ones." You roll your eyes, lips set into a smirk as she watch Robin’s cheeks turn a dark shade of strawberry red. For someone with such a tough attitude, she sure was easy to fluster.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “—I hate fighting for your attention. You make me feel like a fool when around ladies with you.”

“I'm sorry," You shrug your shoulders, "Must be a weakness of mine.” You breath a laugh once more, glancing over at Robin, who was already staring.

“Are you flirting with me through Steve right now?" Robin starts shaking her head in disbelief, "Is that what’s happening? — Because, if you are, I’m disappointed in myself that it’s working.”

Steve swiftly turns to you, “My charms have rubbed off on her! She's like a charm-sucking vampire. She’s the reason I can’t get any girls.” He rants, pausing with wide eyes as if he’d came to some great realization, “It all makes sense now...”

“The only thing I’ve gotten from being around you is brain damage.” You respond, with a playful eye roll.

Robin purses her lips and places a hand to her hip, feeling a surge of confidence, "If you want to ever flirt without proxy..." She pulls a black pen from her pocket, then holds out one of her soft hands to take one of yours. You slide yours into her palm without hesitation, both of you sharing a smile.

She quickly finishes scribbling her phone number to the back your hand, her warm fingers brushing across your skin. You feel a small shiver briefly down your spine, throwing you slightly off guard. Robin stands back with a pleased smile, "Call me?"

You smile softly, nodding your head, "Consider it already done."

first fic here, kiiinda nervous... (is the robin fandom even still active here on tumblr?)

interactions are appreciated! 🫶🏻

[idontplaytrack]

Prompt idea- Regina tells everyone at the party she is in love with Janis when she is drunk and she publicly apologizes to Janis but she is with Aaron and he is a dick about it. Janis defends Regina.

✧ The One That Got Away

Regina George x Aaron Samuels(ft. Janis + Damian, Gretchen and Karen)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, coarse language, angst

Regina drunkenly admits that Janis is the one that got away. Aaron’s not happy about it

They were all gathered at Regina’s for a hangout, after having not seen each other in weeks, some haven’t seen each other in months. College was great, but also incredibly busy. Now that the whole gang was on spring break, well, they could all finally take a break.

Regina was already tipsy when the rest of the bunch started to arrive, and were subsequently met with a very stressed out Aaron. “Dear Lord, you didn’t want to wait for us before you got started?” Damian grumbled.

“My house. My rules.” Regina laughs. Damian squints at her, then at Aaron, “Man, good luck dealing with that tonight.”

“You guys will be here awhile.” He lets out a laugh, “So…I won’t have to worry about that for a few hours.”

The bunch started off their night with card games, then board games, then puzzles. All of them gradually started losing focus from the games and started getting absolutely wasted. The puzzle pieces were soon abandoned, and chatter filled the spacious room.

“Guys, remember when I made fun of Janis?” Regina asks aloud, causing all of them to just collectively fall silent.

“Babe, what— I don’t think you should be bringing that up right now.” Aaron chimed in.

“Why not?” The blonde asks, “I want…to apologise.”

“Regina.” Aaron sighs, fighting back an eye-roll. Janis notices that immediately, glaring at him very not-subtly. “No, let her talk.” Janis spoke up, “Why shouldn’t she bring that up? She has a good reason to.”

“It’s old news.”

“Well, it happened. And not to you, so I think you should shut the fuck up and—”

Regina cracked a smile hearing the profanity, Gretchen and Karen looked at them, worried. Damian was simply enjoying the building chaos but also— worried a little about Janis spiralling afterwards. Gretchen quietly took away Janis' bottle of beer, and thankfully she didn't notice. "It was a fucked up thing to do, regardless of the reason why. I never should've done that, I never should've made things hell for you and lost you as a friend as a result. It sucked, having to figure out who I was while I envied you being so unapologetically yourself. Pushing you away the way I did was no help to either of us. I wish we could turn back the clock and I would've never done any of that. Things would've been so different. You truly are the one that got away. I'm sorry, Janis."

"Seems very sober of her to me." Damian remarked.

"She's drunk off her ass." Aaron scoffs.

Janis huffs, "And what? That doesn't mean she can't speak. 'A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.'"

"Whatever, I'm out. Good night."

"Don't need you here if you're gonna be a dick about an apology to someone I care about, Aaron. Scram." Regina added on. With that, he got up from the floor and left slamming the front door.

Janis pondered over the girl's words before saying, "Thanks for holding yourself accountable. I'm sorry for lighting your backpack on fire. I just felt so betrayed having the person closest to me at that point in my life make fun of me with the whole school. I had no one for a long time, even though I had Damian. i did not like that change...I missed us. Our friendship, what we used to do, how much time we used to spend playing and laughing together. All of that— gone."

"Please, that backpack was ugly." Regina laughs, "Actually I should be thanking you for lighting that tacky backpack on fire."

Janis sighs, then chuckles.

"We're good?"

"We're good." Janis confirms. Regina opened up her arms, approaching the brunette. Janis, though taken aback, still stood up and accepted the long awaited hug. "Thank you for hearing me out, Jay."

"It's what we should have done in the first place. We're moving on to a new chapter of our lives soon...I'm just glad that one's finally closed." Janis swallows her tears, "Maybe you should go look for Aaron—"

"I'll talk to him in the morning. He was being a fucking dick about this whole thing, he can wait. I'm just glad I have you back in my life without all the tension."

Janis allowed herself to smile, though hiding it— poorly. Regina nudged her playfully, "Sit down. Gretchen took your drink."

Janis sulked as she plopped back down into her spot on the floor, "Gretch. My drink."

"I don't think you should drink anymore tonight, Janis." Gretchen frowns, studying her face carefully.

"I'm fine, this is worth a drink, right?" Janis looks at her.

"I guess?" Gretchen squints, shrugging, "Alright, here you go. Slow down."

Janis grins, reaching out to grab her half-empty bottle of Kona beer. "Thanks."

Gretchen couldn't help but smile seeing Janis being so...smiley. "Cheers."

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[arc-misadventures]

Onee-Sama

Jaune: Shit…

Jeanne: Hey, don’t be upset, three out of five isn’t bad.

Jaune: Zero out of five! I may have hit the target, but none of them are on target!!

Jaune gestured to the target board where three of the throwing knives were in the target, but none of them were in the target’s circle.

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Well you did hit the target!

Jaune: That’s not good enough!

Jeanne: Hey, no need to shout. You’ll get the hang of this. It will just take time.

Jaune: It’s not the fact I’m missing the target that’s making me upset! It’s you, and your damn smug aura you have around you.

Jeanne: What? What are you talking about, I’m not being smug about anything.

Jaune: Jeanne, you’re finally teaching me how to be good at something I suck at that. Of course you’re going to be a smug little shit about it, and hang that over me.

Jeanne: What! No I wouldn’t!

Jaune: Jeanne, you’re an, Arc. We are surprisingly vindictive, smug little bastards when we want to. You are no exception to this rule. Why do you think my nickname is, ‘The Vindictive One.’

Jeanne: I thought it was, ‘Big J?’

Jaune: …

Jaune: Shut up.

Jeanne: Hehehehe~!

Acheius: Jaune! Jeanne! You out here?

JJ: …

Jaune: Seems like, Papa, and Mama are back.

Jeanne: Evidently so. They’ve not even been gone for a week; I thought they might have a mini vacation while they were gone.

Jaune: Evidently not.

Juniper: Jeanne, Jaune? Where are you?

Jeanne: We’re over here mom! Do you need something?

Juniper: We want to introduce you to someone!

Jaune: You don’t think she means…?

Jeanne: It’s highly plausible.

Through a clearing of the bushes that surrounded their little training field emerged four people. Their parents, Juniper, and Acheius Arc, and Willow Schnee, and her lovely daughter, Winter Schnee.

Jaune: Well I’ll be damned…

Jeanne: She really is our sister then, isn’t she?

Acheius: Was there any doubt she wasn’t?

JJ: Yes.

Acheius: …

Acheius: That’s fair… Anyway, may I introduce you to her mother, Willow Schnee.

Willow: Hello, I am, Willow Schnee, and this my daughter, Winter Schnee. And, I mus say, you two look like the spitting image of your parents~!

Jaune: I’m not so sure about me, but, Jeanne certainly takes after our mother.

Jeanne: Where else do you think I got my glorious looks from~!

Jaune: Actually I referring to the fact you’re both perverted degenerates.

Jeanne: Hey!

Juniper: True.

Jeanne: Mom?!

Jaune: Try to ignore them, and their insanity. Hopefully you’ll be able to tune them out.

Winter: I will try.

Jaune: So, she’s actually our sister; Are you going to start calling yourself, Winter Arc Schnee, or Winter Schnee Arc?

Jeanne: Go with, Winter Arc Schnee! It sounds better.

Winter: I… I haven’t given thought to such a thing. I’m only here at the request of mother, and Mr. Arc to meet the family. I have no plan to integrate myself further into this family.

Jaune: Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

Winter: Excuse me?

Jeanne: She’ll be smothered in so much family love, and affection she have a mid life crisis.

Winter: I’ll what?

Jaune: More of emotional break down from being smother with genuine love, and affection.

Jeanne: Meh. Same difference.

Winter: Okay…?

Jaune: So I take it you met your other sisters before us?

Winter: Yes, I certainly have; they were quite…

Jaune: Odd, weird, creep…?

Jeanne: Unhinged, crazy, deranged…?

Jaune: A bunch of perverts?

Jeanne: Hey!

Winter: Yes… My new half-sisters are quite… peculiar.

Jaune: Well, if you’re anything like me, Winter you’ll eventually be able to tolerate them. Just barely tolerate them that is…

Winter: I see…

Jeanne: So, Winter, you up for a spare?

Winter: Excuse me?

Jeanne: We’re a couple of young hunters-in-training, and we could use a new sparing partner to really refine our skills. And, you look a bit wound up meeting your new brother, and sisters. So, how about a little spare to release all that tension you’ve got building up in you?

Winter: I’m not so…

Acheius: Ahh go ahead, Winter. It’ll be a good bounding moment for the three of you. Plus, the two could do with having someone else to spar with.

Jaune: That, and dad is tired of mom beating him up because he took it too far.

Acheius: Hey! I only did that once.

Jeanne: Are we talking about that one time you launched me into a tree?

Jaune: Or, that one time you broke my nose?

Jeanne: Perhaps is was that one time you skipped me like a stone into a lake?

Jaune: Or, the time you lunched me through the wall of the house?

Jeanne: Or, the…!

Acheius: Enough! I think she gets it!

Willow: Did he really do that to you?

Juniper: Yes, yes he did.

Willow: Oh… Oh my.

Jaune: Don’t worry! We’re, Arc’s!

Jeanne: We’ve got aura like a tank! We’ve never been badly hurt in a spare!

Jaune: Except for that time he broke my nose because he didn’t unlock my aura before we fought.

Jeanne: Yeah, except for that time… So, would you like to have a small bout, Winter?

Winter: …

Winter: Very well, it would be nice to let out some steam.

Jeanne: Alright, lets do this!

Willow: Are you sure this is a good idea?

Acheius: Relax, it will be a good training exercise for the two of them.

Jaune: And, a great bounding moment.

Acheius: And, an excellent bounding moment for the two of them, yes!

Willow: Should I be worried?

Juniper: No, Jeanne will be fine.

Willow: But, what about, Winter?

Juniper: …

Juniper: Jeanne! No semblance!

Jeanne: What?! Why not?

Juniper: Because you’ve been using it too much. And, its highly volatile!

Jeanne: Man… I never get to have any fun…

Jaune: Okay! Challenger’s! I shall be the referee for this fight. So, when I say stop you stop, understood?

Winter: Understood!

Jeanne: Okay fine…

Jaune: Understood?!

Jeanne: Understood, sir!

Jaune: Good. Now, you will fight until your aura enters the red. Understood?

JW: Understood!

Jaune: Sync your aura meters with me.

Jeanne: Sync!

Jaune: Synced.

Winter: …

Winter: Sync.

Jaune: Synced. Contestants take your places!

Jeanne, and Winter stood roughly twenty feet apart, each reading their combat stances. Each drawing their respective weapons.

Winter drew her sabre a practice flourish of motion; spinning the blade before here, before slashing it to the ground behind her, before narrowing her profile to point the blade at her opponent.

Jeanne stood before her opponent without her heavy armour, he recent growth spurts into adulthood rending her armour to cumbersome, and tight to wear effectively anymore. So, she just strode out with just her shield, and sword.

Her shield was a simple kite shield, but unlike her brothers, Jeanne’s shield was a single piece. It was layered with an intercept floral weave engraved upon the polished white metal, and golden details. Deep blue gems where imbedded upon the shield.

Just like her brothers blade, so too did her shield also double for a sheath for her blade, she drew two feet of solid steel, and as she flicked it out, the remaining length of the blade shot out, revealing a four foot long longsword.

She levelled her shield in front of her, and adopted a defensive stance, and levelled her blade towards her opponent.

Jaune stared at the two for a moment before raising his hand, and shouting.

Jaune: …

Jaune: BEGIN!

A glyph appeared under, Winter’s feet that sent her flying towards, Jeanne closing the gap between them in seconds. Winter expected her to be shocked at this sudden burst of speed, but she merely moved her shield to the side, and blocked her attack.

Winter’s sabre sang out as it impacted, Jeanne’s sheild. It sounds like if as one had tapped the side of their wine glass to gain everyone’s attention. So soothing, and beautiful that she almost forgot, Jeanne’s that was coming straight for her.

For such a small girl of fourteen years of age she could hit like a jackhammer when she wanted to. A quick thrust with her longsword, and quick flicks of her wrist lead to, Winter being kept on the back foot for a time. She thought she was dealing with just your average apprentice Hunter. But, the cool, and calm steely gaze that she held within her eyes was something she had seen in only the most experienced of, Hunters.

Winter thought, Jeanne would see this fight as a simple training bout, a young hunter trying to hone their craft, or an excited girl trying to show off to her dear older sister, something she had seen in the eyes of her sister, Weiss dozens of times before. But, these eyes, these were the eyes of someone who took this all seriously. For, Jeanne, this was not some simple training spar, this was life, or death, and if she failed, she would be as good as dead.

It was a chilling, and unnerving thought to behold that such a young girl saw the world in such a way. And, yet it sent a thrill of excitement coursing up her spine as she smiled at the younger girl.

Winter rushed forward wither her semblance, sabre held before her attempting to stab at, Jeanne. But before she could get close, Jeanne kicked up a wall of dirt, clouding her presence. Winter shot threw the cloud, and landed softly barely being able to react in time to block a fierce strick from, Jeanne.

Winter was impressed. Jeanne Arc was quick on her feet, and even quicker with her blade. This duel of there changed from, Winter wanting to blow off some steam to testing to see this extent of this, Hunter’s true abilities.

Winter jumped back giving her some breathing room. She half expected, Jeanne to chase after her, but she held her ground. She probably wanted to catch her breath too, too bad she wasn’t going to let her do so.

Seven glyphs appeared in the air before her, and seven small white, Nevermore’s came flying out towards, Jeanne. Her eyes darted side to side, and held up her shield, and bloke the six, Nevermore’s, before turning around, and cutting down the seventh one. Winter realized why her eyes darted all over the place; she was counting the amount of summons she sent at her, and since the seventh one never hit her shield she knew it was coming from behind her.

Clever girl.

Winter was going to compliment her, but stopped as she noticed her sword be enveloped in a golden hue before it appeared in a sphere at the tip of her swords before she flung it at her at a high speed.

Her eyes widened in shock as the orb came closer to her. She quickly dodged to the side as it neared her, and exploded, sending her flying. She hit the ground with a roll, and she had to start running as a second orb came charging towards her.

As she narrowly dodged the second blast she slammed her sabre into the ground, creating a large white glyph appear in the ground, and soon a large white, Chimera Grimm appeared. It roared as it charged towards, Jeanne as she held her ground. Winter view was blocked by the large beast, Winter was looking forward to seeing, Jeanne face down such a monster. And, she wasn’t let down.

A white silver blade erupted from the skull of the chimera. Had, Jeanne jumped, and thrusted her sword through the chimera’s skull? It was an effective strategy to implement, risky, but effective. What she actually did however, was quite interesting.

A five foot long handle, and a four foot long blade. A spear to keep her foes at a distance, and strong enough to dispatch large foes with ease. It was an impressive sight to see the way, Jeanne could wield such a weapon. Although, she spent more time dodging the weapon, then admiring its beauty.

Her sword thrusts were admirable, Jeanne was capable of preforming were now shown the true power of those thrusts. Winter could feel the air fly past her as she narrowly missed the head of her spear. She spun on the spot, driving her weapon crashing into the ground, sending an explosive blast as it tore up the earth.

Winter knew she couldn’t handle her at a close range anymore, so she made several glyphs in the air, and sent over a dozen flying bolts of white energy towards her. Jeanne’s eyes widened in shock for a moment before she used her spear to destroy several of the bolts, but she didn’t stop enough of them, as several came, and hit her in her side. She weathered the storm, but the impact of the blasts dropped her to her knees. As she was about to stand, Winter struck. Using the cross-guard of her sabre she caught the shaft of, Jeanne’s spear. Jeanne struggled to pull her weapon free from, Winter’s grasp, only to notice at the last second as, Winter jab her in the got with a concealed dagger she kept hidden in her sword.

Winter knocked the wind out of her causing her to lose the grip on her weapon, allowing, Winter to wretch the weapon free from her grasp, and send it flying through the air.

Winter smiled smugly at, Jeanne only for her head to dart to the side, she could feel her aura being sliced up as she noticed a silver feather fly past her. She quickly blocked several more of these feathers only to look down, and see that the feathers we’re actually the design given to a serious of throwing knives, Jeanne apparently carried on her person.

She looked back to see, Jeanne placing her shield on her back before reaching back, and pulling out a pair of knives. She held

She held the blades in a defensive stance, preparing for, Winter’s next strike. Winter readied to strike, her blades held before her. A challenging smirk sent towards, the young Hunter appreciate who sent her back one in kind. The two readied up, their muscles tense as they prepared to lung at their foes, when…!

Jaune: ENOUGH! The spare is over! Winner: Winter Schnee!

Jeanne: What?! Why are you ending the fight! I can still keep going!

Winter: I must agree, I could have kept going myself too.

Jaune: Plausible. But, Jeanne your aura is at 27%. One more good hit, and you would have been out.

Jeanne: Oh shit, really?

Jaune: That, and your weapons we’re starting to glow.

Jeanne: Oh…

Winter: Is that a part of her semblance?

Jaune: It’s a visual cue she’s about to, or is using her semblance.

Winter: And, what is your semblance?

Jaune: Nothing of consequence.

Jaune walked over to, Jeanne spear before wrenching it out of the ground before turning to his sister.

Jaune: Jeanne, catch!

Jaune launched her spear at her with a wicked force, Jeanne simply turned to the side as the spear flew past her until she caught the spear by the pommel as a cloud of dirt flew by her. She grasped the shaft with two hands, twirling it in the air as it shrunk down to its long sword form before placing it back in its sheath on her back. A serious of moves, Winter couldn’t help but notice were highly well practiced.

Impressive.

Jeanne: At least tell me I gave, Winter a good beat down.

Jaune: Her aura is at, 42%.

Jeanne: Nice!

Winter: It is?

And, it was then that, Winter pulled out her scroll to see that her aura had indeed been knocked down to, 42%. She was impressed, she had expected her aura to have dropped 30%, possibly even 40%, but to nearly 60%.

Winter: Impressive, that is quite a remarkable feat.

Jeanne: Aww thanks… But, I would have totally creamed you if I could have used my semblance!

Jaune: Which is why mom said no semblance. You’re starting to use it as a crutch. Even against me.

Jeanne: Hey! You’re the aura tank, and it only get ls worse when you use your damn semblance on top of that!

Winter: You have a semblance; what is it?

Jaune: Aura amplification.

Winter: Aura amplification; what precisely is that?

Jaune: This…

Jaune walked over to, Winter, and held out his arm, and a golden light enveloped his arm to be followed by a blue white light spreading across her arm. She was about to ask what he was doing when she noticed that her aura was nearly at 70%.

Winter: You can recharge people’s auras?!

Jaune: Yep. It uses some of my aura to recharge others, but I can also use it on myself to recharge my own aura. Not to mention when I use it on other’s their semblance gains a boost, and becomes far more powerful. For a short while that is.

Winter: That is quite the impressive semblance…

Jaune: Yep, with my semblance I become an aura tank!

Jeanne: And, with my semblance I become the tanks cannon!

Jeanne: And we become the, Arc Tank!

Winter: …?

Jeanne: Jaune, you’re supposed to join me in this.

Jaune: Come up with a better name, and I might.

Acheius: Haha! Well, Winter, what do you think of your siblings?

Winter: Well, I don’t know what, Jaune is like, but, Jeanne is amazing. She will become a fine Huntress in the future.

Jeanne: Naww… Thanks, Onee-Sama~!

Winter: W-What did you just call me…

Jaune: Onee-Sama? It means big sister. Since, we call everyone else sister, we thought we call you something different, yet the same. Since you are our older sister. Is that okay…

JJ: Onee-Sama~?

Winter: Grk?! It’s fine… Ahem! It’s fine. Perfectly fine.

JJ: Yay!

Acheius: Well, then. Lets go inside. We need to start dinner soon, and I am famished!

Jeanne: See, Willow, they’re getting along just fine.

Willow: Agreed. Uhh… No offence, Juniper. But, those two seem a bit… odd…

Juniper: No offence taken whatsoever! They are weird. Now come along kids! Lets go, and make some hamburgers!

Willow: W-What?

Jaune: Winter?

Winter: Yes?

Jaune: I know we may seem a bit weird. But, you need to remember this; You are a part of our family now. And, we will love, and protect both of you, even at the cost of our lives.

Winter: That’s… Thank you, Jaune, Jeanne.

Jaune: Our pleasure.

Jeanne: Now let’s go eat!

Winter: Yes lets. But, Jaune, can you help me with something first?

Jaune: With what?

Winter: Your… Our sister, Luna said I made it on the list. What list is she referring to?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Imma gonna get my spoon.

Jeanne: Jaune? Jaune don’t!

Jaune: I said if she made her way on to that list I was gonna shank one of you with a rusty spoon! Well guess what; its shanking time!

Jeanne: No wait! Jaune stop! WAAAAITTT!!!

Winter: …

Winter: This really is a weird family…