#Heartbreak high fic

[probably-writing-x]

Better For You

Spencer White x Reader

Summary: You knew Spencer outside of his ‘Spider’ persona. You knew the boy he was outside of the school crowd. But when the two worlds collide, will you see him for who he actually is?

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of spiking, cursing

———

“Spencer White?” You glance up from the diary in front of you, “Starting today?”

The tall boy in front of you clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. You can call me Spider.”

You scrunch your nose at his request, “Yeah I’m not gonna do that.”

He scoffs, “Alright, and what do I call you?”

“(Y/n),” You respond, “It’s just us two today so I can show you the ropes.”

“Can’t be that hard right? Sell people tickets, serve popcorn, pour a few drinks?”

You stare at him with a black expression, evidently unimpressed.

He looks down at his feet and then back up to you, “Okay, where do I start?”

Spencer was about the same age as you, you assumed. Your boss had said he came across as ‘confident and enthusiastic’ in his interview but both of those things seemed a little uncertain now.

You’d been working at the movie theater for nearly a year now, your uncle knew the manager so you’d been a shoo in from the moment you were old enough to work. It was long hours, late days, annoying customers, but it earned you money and that was all it needed to do.

“Let’s start with popcorn.”

———

That was two months ago now. You now spent nearly every shift with Spencer. He made the long nights feel like they ended earlier. He snuck you free food, dealt with the annoying customers for you, sped around the screens quicker than you so you didn’t have to do as much cleaning. He took extra hours so he could work when you worked.

You’d learnt in that two months that he was working here after an argument with his mum where she told him he’d never worked a day in his life. He’d taken this job to prove her wrong. That was on one of your late night shifts after a midnight screening. It was just the two of you and he was evidently down, evidently in need of someone to talk to. He’d opened up to you. You’d told him that you were sorry, though you weren’t exactly sure what for. He’d laughed and told you that if his Mum saw him like this she’d tell him this wasn’t work.

He drove you home that night, same as every night. And he thanked you before you got out of the car. He didn’t tell you what for, just said ‘thank you”. He needed it more than you did.

Now, he had your number and you had his. And you texted when you weren’t at work together. He sent you songs he thought you’d like, mainly from rock bands he’d heard at a concert that weekend. You sent him films he should watch and he forced himself to watch them, giving you a running commentary with text updates every few minutes.

You spoke to him more than you spoke to your other friends. You told him things before you told them nowadays too. But you two never saw each other outside of work. Separate schools, separate lives.

“Here,” You hand him over a stack of medium cups to add to the supplies at the counter.

Spencer takes them from you, loading them up onto the pyramid of cups you’d been making. It was a quiet day.

“You know if these fall you’re picking them up,” You comment, handing him another two cups.

Spencer adds them too and steps back with his hands raised as if he’s going to catch it, “Yeah, yeah, I figured.”

You grin, both of you admiring your handiwork.

“So,” He steps back to lean against the machine behind him, “I had a question.”

“A question,” You repeat, “Mysterious.”

“I know we’re not working on Saturday. My mates are having a party at the weekend, it’s stupid really, like this graveyard thing,” He shakes his head, “I was just… would you… would you want to come?”

You frown a little, as if taken aback but not wanting to admit it, “Are you…”

“You don’t have to, it’s a stupid idea really, I don’t know why we-“

“Yeah, I’ll come,” You nod, “I’m not here, so I’ve got nothing else to do.”

He smiles, “Alright, well then it’s a date.”

“Is it?” You cock a brow, folding your arms over your chest.

“I-“ His cheeks turn a dark shade of pink, “Shut up.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and steps forward, collapsing down the pyramid of cups into stacks in front of him.

———

Spencer texts you the location and you walk there as the sun’s going down - a little later than he’d suggested so you didn’t look awkward and eager.

It’s eerie when you think of it - a clearing in a graveyard converted into a party location. There’s already a crowd building, a mismatched stack of alcohol at one side and a littering of people you didn’t recognise mingling around.

Why had you agreed to come? You didn’t know a single soul here beyond Spencer. And surely he had other friends he’d want to see? The thoughts of turning around and pretending to have never arrived start coursing through your head. Your feet come to a stop, as if you’re preparing to disappear back into the surroundings.

“There you are!”

And there he is.

Through the crowd, you spot the familiar sight of that blonde floppy hair. The way his face curls up into that signature smile. He’s holding a red solo cup in each of his hands, extending them wide as if hugging you through the air.

“Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure about the whole… graveyard thing.”

Spencer laughs, “Yeah you just need to drink enough so you don’t think about it.”

He hands one of the cups to you and you take a sip.

“Careful, they’re probably spiked,” A girl walks past the two of you, eying Spencer with evident disgust.

She’s got dark short hair and a brightly coloured jacket with a black dress and she looks at you as if shes worried about you.

“Fuck off Amerie,” Spencer snaps, rolling his eyes at her.

You glance up at him and back to her and she offers you a small smile like she’s trying to warn you of something. She walks off over to another group of people and Spencer turns back to you.

“What was tha-“

“Come on, I want to introduce you to some people,” He places a hand gently on the middle of your back as if guiding you through the crowd.

There’s a group of boys over the other side, shouting loudly at each other and making vulgar gestures to go alongside whatever conversation they were having.

“Oi dickheads,” Spencer calls over, “Be normal for a minute, ay?”

The boys stop and turn around, both of them looking at you and then back to their friend.

“This is (Y/n),” He looks down at you and then back to them.

“(Y/n)!” One of the boys grins widely, “We’ve heard a lot about you. You moved in by Spider right?”

“Wh-“

“This is Ant, and that’s Dusty,” Spencer gestures between the two of them before you can say anything else.

“Nice to meet you,” You smile softly, “You know Spencer from school?”

“Yeah, basically since we could walk,” Dusty smiles at you, “We can tell you all the gory details.”

“Alright, alright, I’m right here,” Spencer shakes his head, standing close enough to you that his side is against yours, his arm still placed on your back.

He’s got that way about him. The feeling that you could just melt into his connection. You couldn’t explain it, but in a crowd of people you didn’t know, you were glad he was still beside you.

———

“So how does the dunny situation work here?”

Spencer turns to you and laughs, the two of you now at the edge of the party as people had started dancing in the middle. It was dark now, and you were stood just inches closer to Spencer to make the most of his radiating warmth.

“You find a spot where nobody can see you, and you put in some squat training,” He smiles, the kind of smile that creases his eyes.

“Oh how glamorous,” You wiggle your brows, placing your cup into his hand, “I’ll be right back.”

His fingertips linger on yours as your hand pulls away from his, his eyes lingering on you for even longer as you walk away.

You trail out away from the crowd and down a small path away from any prying eyes until you bump into the sound of giggling girls just ahead of you.

“Oh shit, sorry, I was just looking for somewhere to piss,” You clear your throat.

“Hey, wait, wait, wait,” One of the girls looks over to you, “You’re the girl that Spider was with right?”

It was the girl from earlier. The one Spencer had told to fuck off.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/n),” You offer a smile.

The girl’s friend stands up and zips up her trousers, both of them walking closer to you.

“I don’t want to sound like a cunt, but just be careful with him,” The girl, Amerie says.

“Am,” The other girl hits her arm, “You’re going to scare the poor girl.”

You look at her and fold your arms around you as if shrinking away from them, evidently uncomfortable.

“He’s just…” The other girl begins, “Very outspoken. He’s not exactly the nicest guy at Hartley.”

“He’s a grade A cunt,” Amerie adds, “And you seem like way too good for him.”

“Alright, we’re gonna go before Amerie says anything worse,” The other girl confirms, “Have a good night yeah?”

They both walk past you and you stand stuck in your spot, repeating over everything they had said. Spencer had been the nicest boy ever since you’d known him. He was thoughtful and funny and he was who you looked forward to seeing every shift. But everyone here seemed to be talking about a different boy when it came to him. To the girls, he was like the worst guy they’d known. And why had he lied to the boys about how he knew you?

“(Y/n)?”

You turn in your spot to see him stood behind you, far enough away that you can only make out his silhouette in the dark.

“You’d been a while, I was just making sure you were okay,” He speaks so softly you feel your heart skip a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” You clear your throat, walking towards him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer offers, “I reckon the coppers will be here soon.”

“Yeah,” You smile at him lightly, “I’ll probably book an Uber-“

He holds his cup out towards you, “I’m not drinking. I’ll drive you home.”

Spencer tugs his jacket off from his shoulder and places it around yours his hand slipping down beside your arm until his hand is hovering beside yours. You interlock your hand with his and he smiles once more, like he’s relieved at the contact.

———

The drive back isn’t far, and the empty roads make it even quicker. Spencer still indicates every time he needs to, drives the limit rather than anything over, glances at you every so often to make sure you were okay in the passenger seat.

He pulls up in front of your house and shuts off the engine.

“So, will you be rushing back to a graveyard party any time soon?” He leans his head back against the headrest and turns it towards you.

“I think I’ll stick to the beach or a house party for now,” You nod, running your hands over the cold skin of your thighs.

Spencer laughs, “Yeah I-“

“Can I ask you something?” You interject, the thought practically spilling from your mind.

He frowns, nodding slightly.

“Why did the boys think I was your neighbour? Did you not tell them we worked together?”

Spencer swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t tell them about the job.”

You furrow your brows, “Is working at a movie theater really that bad?”

He lets out a deep breath, “It’s not that.”

There’s a stillness in the air between you. That sort of tension that he always managed to dissipate. He’s calm and yet the air seems to be full of all the nerves he could muster in your presence.

“I don’t really talk to them about anything with my Mum, or home, or anything. And I guess I figured if they knew about the job they’d start asking questions and it’s just… not something I tell people.”

“You told me.”

Spencer chuckles a little, “You’re easier to talk to.”

You smile at him and the tension in his shoulders seems to relax a little, “I guess I can pretend to be your neighbour next time.”

“Next time?” He raises his brows, “So you did like the graveyard.”

You laugh, your gaze averting to the darkness looming over your house, not a single light on.

“So, my parents are away,” You say quietly, like you’re now the one holding all of the nervous energy, “Do you want to… I mean you could…”

“Yeah.”

You laugh, unsure at what point in your time knowing him had it become so easy for Spencer to make you nervous.

———

He sits at the end of the bed whilst you get ready in the bathroom. You take off your makeup, wash your face, tie back your hair and change into your pyjamas. They were one of the cuter sets you owned - different to the normal baggy t-shirt you’d wear. But if there was ever a time to wear a nicer set, it was whilst Spencer would be the one you were sharing a bed with.

When you walk back in, he looks up from the book he had in his hands - one he’d taken from your nightstand.

“Didn’t think that would be your kind of thing,” You nod towards it, walking over to your side of the bed.

“Too many big words,” He smiles, setting it back down and shuffling backwards on the bed.

He was wearing only his t-shirt and boxers now - his other clothes folded in a pile on the chair in front of your vanity.

“Okay we’ve got a problem here,” You comment, looking down at him.

“What’s that?” He asks, swinging his legs around so that he’s sat at the side of the bed facing you, his knees bumping against your legs.

“This is my side of the bed,” You mention.

“Oh is it?” Spencer cocks a brow at you and you hum in response.

His hands reach out and gently brush the skin of your thigh, trailing upwards towards your waist as if drawing you towards him. You let him guide you, shifting until you are straddling his lap. Neither of you speak, Spencer’s hand moving around to hold your back, one remaining on your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes focused on his like you’re seeking that comfort.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer whispers, the words seeming to tumble from his lips.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, “Yes.”

The corners of his mouth upturn just slightly, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. And then, he closes the gap just enough. His lips press against yours, soft and cautious but somehow so certain of themselves. His hand moves to cup your jaw, drawing more of you to him as his fingertips tangle into your hair. When he pulls away, his lips curl into a smile, forehead pressing against yours.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that,” He whispers, as if not wanting anything else to ruin the moment.

You laugh, leaning into him, “This is still my side.”

Spencer chuckles, holding one arm tightly around his waist to shuffle you both back across the mattress. He shifts to lay you down on one side of the bed before settling down on the side beside you, his arm outstretched to pull you into his chest. You can feel his heart beating against your ear and you’re relieved for a second he is sharing in the same adrenaline that you are.

His fingertips trail up and down your arm, the most delicate touch he could muster.

“I’m sorry I lied to the boys about you,” He speaks the words quietly into the air of the room.

You tilt your head upwards just enough that you can see his face, “We already spoke about this, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah but I didn’t apologise properly and I should do,” He nods, “It shouldn’t be your problem to have to lie to them too.”

“Would it really be so bad if they knew you had a job?”

Spencer shakes his head, tucking his other arm beneath his head on the pillow, “No, it wouldn’t. I just don’t like the thought of them knowing everything that goes on at home. It’s easier to go into school and act like none of that exists.”

You lean up onto your elbows and turn to face him, reaching up a hand to run through the hair falling at the side of his forehead, “Would it not be easier if you could talk to them about it?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, his eyes flitting between each of yours, “I don’t think I’d even know what to say.”

Spencer leans up just enough to kiss you again, gentle and fleeting.

He pulls you back down to his chest and tugs the blanket up over both of you. The pair of you stay there, like that in each other’s arms, until his breath starts to even out and he falls asleep - though, even then, his arms don’t loosen from around you.

———

Spider is back at school on Monday morning. He’d spent all of Sunday with you - waking up at your house, driving you both to work, and then taking you to dinner afterwards. It was the first time he’d ever woken up and instantly wanted to text someone, sending you a quick ‘good morning’ along with his complaints for not wanting to go to school today. He felt like a child with his first crush. Though, when he thought about it, maybe this was the first proper crush he’d had. No other girl had made him feel like this. And he’d savour it for as long as he could.

“Oi dickhead, are you listening?” Dusty interrupts his thoughts, the two of them walking towards the locker room to get changed.

“No,” Spider shrugs, “Do I need to be?”

“You missed a killer end to the party man,” Dusty points out, pushing the door open to where the rest of the boys already were, “I can’t believe you left early.”

“Oh come on I think Spider had other things on his mind,” Ant points out as soon as he overhears the conversation.

“Yeah who the fuck was that chick?”

“Does it matter? Either way Spider was going to fu-“

“Cut it out,” Spider snaps, to nobody in particular, just hoping for anything that would stop the topic of conversation.

“Aww is Spider precious about his latest conquest?” Ant frowns, “You’ll be onto the next one by this weekend.”

“Have you ever just thought of shutting up Ant?” Spider questions, reaching down to tie the laces of his trainers, “I mean, seriously, is it so hard to think (Y/n) might just be a good person? Someone I actually like hanging out with?”

“I don’t think that’s what they’re doubting,” It’s Malakai that speaks this time.

Spider looks at him, uncertain.

“If she’s a decent person, the last guy she should be around is you.”

For a moment, he feels the silence around him. The same tightness in his chest that he got at every dinner with his Mum. The same voice in his head telling him it was impossible for him to be good.

“Well,” He clears his throat, standing up from the bench, “Good thing I don’t need to listen to you cunts.”

When he walks out onto the field, the girls are already crowded around in conversations with each other. Spider walks over, crossing towards the opposite side of the field.

“Oi Spider!”

It’s Amerie that yells after him. He turns around to see her and Harper making their way over.

“You know we told that girl from the party to stay away from you,” Amerie states strongly, offering him her most judgemental look.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You might be able to put on an act for her but she deserves to know how shitty you are.”

“Are you kidding?” Spider scoffs, “You don’t even know her, why’s it your place to say anything?”

“We don’t know her,” Amerie shrugs, “But we know you. And no girl deserves that.”

He glances around at the rest of the people on the field, across to where the boys have just started filtering outside too. Not a single person here thought well of him. Even the boys, his friends, they saw him as the boy that said what they wouldn’t say. He was funny to them before he was good. He was someone to laugh at before he’d ever be someone to talk to. He’d become a show piece at this school. The controversial one that said what nobody else would.

“Ever thought that I might want to be a decent guy? That if I actually liked someone it’s genuine?” Spider shrugs, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Oh fuck off Spider, are you even capable of that?”

“Maybe.”

———

You’d been on Spider’s mind for the whole day. And, as soon as the final bell rang, all he could think of was getting to you.

It’s not a far drive, just the other side of town. But he speeds as if it’s some sort of last ditch attempt to get to you. He hadn’t thought to text, or ask where you were, or ask if you were free. He just knew he needed to get to you. And when he pulls up in front of your house, he realises this is as far as his thoughts had taken him, he wasn’t sure what that meant now.

He knocks on the door, harshly as if he’s channeling his nerves into the sound.

It’s not you on the other side. Instead, an older woman, bearing some resemblance to you in the brightness of her eyes.

“Hi, can I help you?” Her brows furrow but she smiles at him welcomingly, warmly.

“Um-“ He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “I just-“

“Are you (Y/n)’s friend?”

Before he can respond, you come up behind the woman and grasp her shoulders, “I’ve got this one Mum.”

You glance to Spencer and smile, instantly relaxing the tension in his shoulders.

“It was nice to meet you,” Your Mum nods to him, turning to you and giving you some sort of knowing smile as if exchanging silent words.

You step out of the front door and pull it almost-closed behind you;

“What are you doing here Spencer?”

“You didn’t tell me what the girls said to you at the party.”

“I-“ You wrap your arms over your chest as a breeze courses past both of you, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” He half laughs, his shoulders dropping, “They practically told you to get as far away from me as you could.”

“Yeah. And that doesn’t mean I believed them.”

Spencer smiles at you just a little, but it falters quickly.

“Why do they hate you so much Spencer?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath as he looks at you like even the sight of you is enough to calm down all of the worry coursing through him.

“My whole life it’s just been me and my Mum. I didn’t have siblings, my Dad was never in the picture. And so I had this one person left that was meant to love me. You know? That was her job, right? She’s my Mum, she just needs to love me and we’d figure the rest out. My Mum treats me every day like I’m the worst guy on the planet. I’m a guy and she thinks that’s enough for me to be someone she should hate. To her, I’m destructive and thoughtless and I have all this potential do a world of wrong. She reminds me of that every day, with everything I do. She’s reminded me of it so much that I started to believe it. That’s the guy I am to them at school. That’s the guy they know. And I’d hate me too if I was them.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, wanting to reach out for him and tell him everything he needed to hear. To heal all those years of hurt that sat on those young shoulders.

“I don’t want to be that guy when I’m with you.”

You feel it then. The way your heart skips a beat once more.

“I want to be better.”

Your face breaks into a small smile, an instinctive response.

“I believe you,” You practically whisper the words, “Everyone else might have a lot to say about you but I know the person that you are with me.”

You step forward towards him.

“And I don’t think that guys so bad.”

You watch as he visibly relaxes, grasping out for you as soon as you are within reach, his hands snaking around to your waist. Your hands move up to his chest, linking around the back of his neck.

“You deserve a chance to be better Spider,” You smile, reaching up onto the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his lips.

He hums against the contact, pulling away to say, “I prefer Spencer.”

You chuckle and he wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He breathes in the scent of you in his arms, feeling his heart slow in your hold. He’s sure he could stay there forever. And you’re sure that you would let him.

[starlightdelrey]

heartbreak high navigation

PSA no minors allowed please!!!! there will be sensitive content and nsfw content explored in these fics!! i do not want to have to block anybody!

i write from a fem/nb pov only (sorry) and will not write for some characters (like chook), and i'm willing to write smut and sensitive topics - to a degree xx

to request, either comment, dm or leave an ask (also comment, dm or leave an ask to be added to the tag list) !!

romantic partners i'll write for include: spider, ant, malakai, missy, amarie, harper, (to be updated)

---

character x character

oneshots:

axe throwing - ant and harper (in which two of the hartley kids finally get a moment of peace together (or ant thinks he's gonna lose his arm))

more to come !

[general-fanfiction]

Eshay Baby. (Anthony Vaughn x Chook's Sister Reader)

Word Count: 5.8K

Y/N Cooper and Anthony Vaughn had a complicated relationship, which becomes even more complex following the reveal of the incest map.

WARNING: This work is not intended for those under the age of eighteen as it does have mature content. This story deals with alcohol, sexual content, drugs, explicit language, violence, death and triggering topics such as sexual assault and abuse.

A/N: I really hope you enjoy this fic as much as I do, I am a sucker for an ex's to lovers trope! This will be an ongoing series with each chapter correlating to a different episode! Love you! x

Fuck you Monday.

I am not a bad person. At least, I don’t believe I am. Research suggests that people become products of their environments, in fact, there’s an entire theory surrounding the self-fulfilling prophecy which suggests that if environmental factors such as the people and community surrounding you believe you will turn out a certain way, you will. It’s something to do with the phrase ‘if that’s what people think I am, then that’s what I will be.’ For as long as I’ve been alive, I have done my best to combat this. Not wanting to prove the countless social workers, mental health professionals, teachers and police correct. I am a good person.

My brother on the other hand, that’s slightly more complicated. He’s four years older than me, he understands and remembers more of our childhood than I do. It’s not something that we often talk about, him opting to avoid the subject entirely not wanting to reminisce on the past. His words not mine. I don’t blame him for this, nothing I can remember is positive. Being passed from one distant relative to the next, each being significantly worse than the last. Until one day we ended up at the home. I can only imagine what other horrors he may remember.

Hence why I stated it’s complicated, everything he does, he does for us. That’s the way it’s always been. Not once has he failed to protect me, agreeing to be my legal guardian the moment he turned eighteen in order to remove me from the clutches of any government mandated home. I’ll forever be grateful to him for that, and so I could never argue that he isn’t a selfless man. Not when it comes to family.

Others may disagree with me, believing he is cruel, callous and cold. Inherently evil is a term that has been used to describe him many times before. I’ll be the first to admit that there are times when I don’t agree with his actions. However, I don’t believe this defines him as a person. People are so complex and have many different layers that somebody cannot be defined by one small thing. So would I say he’s a good person? No, but I also wouldn’t say he’s a bad person. He’s just different.

“Your brother said to tell you he’s setting off in ten minutes so to make sure you’re ready.”

The soft voice at my doorway startles me, too focused on applying my lipgloss to notice the boy standing in the doorway. As I glance up at him through my mirror, I’m hit by the unmistakable stench of marijuana that seems to flood the room. My nose scrunches, slightly disgusted by the thought of my brother and his friends getting high in the living room at eight am on a monday morning. Continuing to apply multiple layers of the shimmery pink gloss, I notice the figure is still standing in my doorway, his back turned to me, stance appearing almost awkward as he scratches the back of his head nervously.

“Cash you can come in.”

He turns to face me, hesitantly stepping through the threshold into my bedroom with a small smile on his face. Closing the old wooden door behind him, only to almost be knocked out by the numerous bags I have hung up on the back of my door.

“That’s a lot of bags.” He comments, resulting in a small laugh from me due to him stating the obvious.

Beginning to gather my textbooks, notebooks and any other supplies I may need for school, I notice Cash standing silently simply observing my bedroom. It’s a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Walls painted a burnt amber with photos and posters plastered up anywhere I could reach. Crocheted blankets are thrown over every piece of furniture in the room and my window stays wide open, allowing the bright morning light to flood the room, the gentle breeze blowing just enough to allow a melodic hum to reverberate through my wind chime.

“Your bedroom is nice. It’s homely.” Cash tells me, waiting patiently as I continue to throw things into my bag.

“Not a chance in hell was I letting Chook decorate my bedroom with graffiti.” I laugh, throwing my chunky black cardigan over my shoulders before the eshay opens the door for me, being the gentleman that he is and allowing me to exit first. “There’s another spray paint to cover a skatepark in here as it is.”

My finger traces one of the many swirls of blue spray paint that lines the hallway as I speak, eliciting a chuckle from the boy that follows behind me. Entering the lounge, I find Jayden and Tilla sprawled out on the sofa, eyes glazed over and it’s clear that they’re both stoned out of their minds. Chook sits on the armchair that he’s claimed as his own, nobody else dares to sit there, knowing it’s his seat. He’s playing with the car keys in his hands, eyes fixed on the unconscious man laid out at his feet. Occasionally nudging him with his foot in an attempt to humor himself.

“Who’s that?” I question, capturing my brother’s attention for the first time since we set foot in the lounge.

“Fuck knows brah, couldn’t handle his drinks though clearly.”

With one last surprisingly gentle kick to the stomach, Chook rises from the chair. Ruffling my hair as he strolls past me and towards the front door, much to my annoyance. I sigh quietly, swiftly smoothing my hair down, to which Cash does his best to muffle his laugh as we follow my brother out the door. Stepping over yet another unconscious man as we leave the house.

Hartley High is only a twenty minute drive, most of which I spend in silence, trying my best to enjoy the drum and bass that erupts out of the speakers as we fly down the streets of Sydney. Chook was never one for following the speed limit, no matter how many times I lectured him on the importance of driving safely.

We pull into the car park outside of school with an ear piercing screech, slamming to a halt directly outside the gates, the unnecessary amount of noise causes many students to look in our direction. Many whispering to their friends as they gawk at us, I do my best to keep my head down as I clamber out of the vehicle. Embarrassed by the commotion Chook has caused.

“Don’t get expelled!” Chook yells out of the car window as Cash and I trudge reluctantly towards the quad. Not wanting to dignify him with a response, I simply throw my middle finger up behind me, hearing his raucous laughter followed by the screech of his tires on the asphalt once again.

“You reckon this year will be any better?” Cash inquires, knuckles white due to how tight he is clenching the strap of his fanny pack that is thrown over his shoulder. He’s nervous. Contrary to what people believe, Cash is a sweet boy. He’s so loving, caring, considerate and kind, he has a lot to offer the world we live in. Nobody seems to see this though. Believing Cash is a good for nothing eshay that will make nothing of himself upon leaving school, most likely following in the footsteps of his mother and ending up in prison. Even he himself believes this.

“I don’t know mate, maybe for you, I mean you technically don’t even need to be here. I don’t have a choice unfortunately.”

“Yeah but that just means you’re stuck with me for another year kiddo.”

“I am literally a year younger than you.” I sulk, giving him a gentle shove in order to express my annoyance. “Besides, you wouldn’t have screwed me if you saw me as a kid.”

Cash stops in his tracks completely, I smirk, pleased that I’ve rendered him completely speechless and offer him a quick wink from over my shoulder as he jogs to catch up to me. We agreed to never speak of it. A one night hook up when we were both heavily under the influence of certain illegal substances. My heart was in pieces following the breakdown of mine and a particular church going brunette’s secret relationship. If you could even call it a relationship, we never exactly labeled anything, nor made anything public. However, it felt as though my heart had shattered, I’d never experienced anything like that before. Not even the pain of my childhood compared to this.

One thing led to another and Cash and I were stumbling into bed together. Both of us knew it was wrong, Chook would kill Cash if he ever found out. Fortunately it only happened once and while I wouldn’t say that I regret it, it did definitely put a strain on our friendship for a while. Mostly due to him being terrified of me telling my brother.

Remembering the memory, I can’t help but smile to myself. Even if it was just for that one night, Cash made me feel whole again. Like I was worthy of finding love. The dopamine from the positive recollection seems to crash like a wave over my body, uplifting my mood drastically despite heading into what is ultimately prison for the next seven hours. That is until I catch a glimpse of the one person I was hoping to avoid completely for the next year.

Anthony Vaughn.

“Oi there’s a fully gacked sex map in the old stairwell.” Shouts from the redheaded girl catch my attention and I’m grateful to be provided a distraction. “It’s called the incest map!”

Students from all directions flock together in a sprint towards the old stairwell. The scene could be described as something out of a nature documentary when a pack of wild animals chase after their prey together. It’s wild and chaotic, completely undignified. So, with a quick glance at one another, Cash and I also follow the crowd, taking off in a run to identify what a ‘sex map’ truly is, and why it is so interesting that the entirety of our school is racing at full speed just to catch a glimpse.

I thank my lucky stars that I’m not claustrophobic when I eventually manage to squeeze my way through the horde of students. Names are scrawled in huge letters across the wall, each with different lines and symbols linking one to another. There’s a key chart to the left hand side and it’s safe to say nobody’s sexual endeavours were safe due to how graphic the key chart was.

The usual suspects are on the map, those who aren’t quiet about their partaking in hookup culture, such as Darren and Dusty. Those in relationships are also unsurprising, for example Missy and Sasha are of course linked, having only just recently broken up. Other names however do manage to shock me, for one I was not expecting to see Quinni’s name on the map, nor was I expecting Cash. Following the three lines connected to his name, it’s only then that I realize in bright red letters accompanied by a pair of devil horns, is my name.

Y/N - hooked up - Cash. Y/N - blowie - Spider. Y/N - fucked - Ant. Y/N - destined - Ant.

With each passing second it feels like my heart has stopped, secrets revealed to the world that were supposed to never see the light of day. How did anybody know about this? Sure, Spider may have blabbed about me giving him a blowjob, most likely bragging to his two best mates about it as though I’m his latest conquest. However, what happened between Cash and I, as well as Ant and I was meant to be kept quiet.

With trembling hands, I begin to anxiously scan the room, looking for any sign that somebody other than myself may have noticed my name. Catching the eye of the brunette, who stands timidly between Dusty and Spider, I discern that he is just as concerned as I am. Fearful of the consequences of this coming out.

“Yo Ant, you fucked the eshay’s sister? Nice one bro.” Dusty shouts, clapping his friend on the back which only leads to the red blush on his face to creep to an even deeper crimson.

“You got further with her than I ever did.” Spider comments, a mischievous smirk spread across his lips. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Ant simply lowers his head, eyes focusing on his shoes which appear to be a lot more interesting than the map in front of him. I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt that he won’t speak about us, but at the same time, I understand. With mates like his, I would want to keep things hidden from them too, especially if this is how they react. Not to mention his overly religious family upbringing and the overwhelming amount of shame he is afraid of bringing on his family.

“Hey, you okay?” Cash whispers, hand faintly grazing mine in a subtle attempt to offer his support.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Offering the mullet wearing boy a forced smile, trying to cover up the embarrassment of suddenly being the center of attention.

Continuing to stare at the map in disbelief, only the shouts of rowdy teenagers can be heard as they find more and more connections on the map that they hadn’t seen upon their first inspection. A few even run out in tears, the map ruining many people’s relationships, outing people and just causing pure humiliation for everybody that has their name scribbled across the wall.

“Hey, do you reckon if we ask real nice, Y/N will let us double dick her?” Spider asks Ant obnoxiously loud, nudging him as they both look over in my direction. Humorless expression evident on my face. “What, we’ve both already been there.”

Spider’s comment is directed to me, with him and Dusty both finding the utmost amusement in the entire situation. Ant, on the other hand, looks as though he wants the floor to swallow him whole, unable to make eye contact with me.

“Are you sure you’d be able to get it up? You and I both know how difficult it was for you last time and that was just for a blowie.” Without giving Spider a chance to respond, I’m pushing through the sea of teenagers, who are now staring eagle eyed between the blonde boy and myself. Invested in the very minor argument between us, a chorus of laughter can be heard at Spider’s expense. Even Dusty seems to take amusement in the mortification of his friend. As I brush past the trio, it’s hard to ignore the self-consciousness on their leader’s face. I can’t help but feel a small sense of pride, knowing that my comment really got under his skin. Eyes trailing over each of the guys, I notice that Ant is already looking at me, a regretful look on his face.

Unlike his two mates, Ant has always been the more caring of the three. Whilst still partaking, somewhat reluctantly, in the shenanigans that the other boys rope him into, he has always had more of a guilty consciousness. Often disclosing the amount of regret and guilt he felt due to some of their actions. Though, he made me swear that information to secrecy, not wanting the boys to view him as weaker. It’s one thing we regularly argued about, with him being unable to fathom the idea that having morals and a consciousness doesn’t make you any less of a man.

The deafening shrill of the school bell sounds whilst I stomp across the quad, alerting me of the fact that I should be headed towards the gym for the mandatory back to school assembly. Yet, I can’t bring myself to face it. Wanting to avoid Spider for a little while longer while I can in the hopes of steering clear of another confrontation. Half an hour into the new school year and I’m already wagging, what a great start.

Without turning to look back, I can hear the shuffle of feet as everybody begins to pile out of the old stairwell. Heading into the main school building, still, I tread on. Doing my best to sneak behind the science block and finding solace in the old dunnies that were closed off to students back in the nineties. Technically, nobody is supposed to be back here, I’m risking detention just by being here, though Cash and I continue to use it as a safe space to hide from the world whenever we need peace.

Rummaging through my bag, I’m quick to find the box of Marlboro Gold’s that I always keep stashed at the bottom, just on the odd occasion that I do feel the urge to smoke. It used to be a rare occurrence, these days, unfortunately it seems to be more of a recurring problem. I’ve hidden the habit from just about everyone in my life, not that Chook would care, he’s done far worse that I ever have. I just don't want people to perceive me as any less that they do now, I know smoking is a dirty horrible habit and yet I can’t seem to quit. So, as I spark my lighter, inhaling the toxic fumes, I begin to take comfort in the calm that fills my body from the lungs outward.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t think anyone was gonna be in here.”

My eyes sweep up from the ground, and if the baggy jeans and tie dyed jumper weren’t enough of a give away as to who stood before me the cross chain hanging from his neck certainly did. It’s the first time he’s actually spoken to me directly since the night everything came crumbling down eight weeks ago. When my eyes lock with his, I can’t help but take in his beauty as if it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him and before I can react the cigarette is falling out of my fingers.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

He points to the ciggie that is now beginning to burn out on the concrete floor. With an awkward laugh, I quickly pick it up, stubbing it out on the wall, humiliated that he caught me.

“I don’t really,” Playing with the ends of my hair as I desperately try to think of an excuse that doesn’t truly reveal the extent of my habit.

“Just needed to destress after this morning.”

“Yeah, crazy morning, right?” Ant asks, leaning against the doorframe as he attempts to make small talk with me. “Actually, do you have another one of those?”

With raised eyebrows I nod swiftly, pulling the pack out of my bag and offering them to him along with my lighter. He lights his and I do the same, after all I didn’t exactly get to finish the first one on account of dropping it on the ground.

“You wagging assembly too?”

My voice is quiet, unsure on whether he actually wants me to make conversation with him or he’d prefer to sit in silence. Despite my best attempts to not make it obvious, I watch as he takes a drag from the ciggie, allowing the smoke to delicately fall from his lips. It’s awkward not knowing where I stand with him, sure, what happened was a while ago now and I’d assumed we’d both moved on but that doesn’t make the entire situation any less awkward.

“Couldn’t face it, Spider and Dusty wouldn’t stop hounding me for all the details and I just needed some space.” Ant admits, picking at the skin around his fingers between drags.

“Oh right, I can leave if you want some space, I don’t mind.”

Grabbing my bag and hauling myself off the window ledge, I throw the end of my ciggie to the ground, ready to leave. That is until his hand grabs mine gently, his touch soft as I’m forced to stop and look at him.

“No, stay. You should stay.”

Ant offers me a small smile before letting go of my hand, the touch so fleeting and yet it still manages to make my heart flutter even just the tiniest bit. Sitting beside him on the cold, mucky floor, not minding the dirt if it means that Ant and I are one step closer to mending our friendship. Truthfully, I miss him. I miss him as a friend more so than anything. Our bond was one that you don’t find much in life, one that others struggle to comprehend.

“I owe you an apology.” His words catch me off guard, unaware that he felt the need to apologize to me, let alone, doing so on the first day back at school. Granted it hasn’t been any ordinary first day back. “I was a complete dickhead to you and you didn’t deserve it-”

“Ant you don’t need to explain yourself.”

“Nah, I do. I think I knew I couldn’t be the guy you deserved, and I got scared. It’s no excuse, I know that. Just believe me, I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said to you that night, I was so pissed, honestly, I hardly remember any of it. All I know is I woke up with the worst hangover of my life and you weren’t there.” He stops for a moment, collecting his thoughts with furrowed eyebrows, trying his best to put what he wants to say into words. “You weren’t there and then I saw the messages. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t ever want to hurt you.”

He’s staring at me intently, eyes trying to find any glimmer of emotion on my face in an attempt to determine what I’m thinking. Opening my mouth to respond, I find myself rendered completely speechless. As I focus on Ant, I can see the worry in his eyes. Uneasy as to what I may have to say.

“Shit, sorry, I’m no good with words, I-”

“Stop talking Ant.” I mumble, putting an end to his rant before he can even properly begin. “Cheers for the apology, it means a lot.”

“Do you hate me?” The question is blurted out before he can stop himself. Shocking even himself judging by the way his widened followed by his head falling to his hands.

“I could never hate you. You should know that.” I tell him, his whole body instantly less tense as the relief floods through him. “I’ve actually really missed my friend. We should’ve never complicated things.”

I almost miss it, but there’s a flash of pain in the browns of his eyes as I say those last words, though he nods in agreement. The silence that follows is no longer awkward, instead it’s tranquil. Plainly embracing the warmth of the early morning sun in one another’s presence feels relaxing compared to the events that unfolded prior. Blissfully enjoying the reblossoming of our once torn apart friendship.

“If it isn’t Anthony Vaughn and Y/N Y/LN. You’ve not even been back a day and you’re already wagging.” Ms Woods’ tone is extremely unimpressed as she addresses us, evidently not happy that we’re getting into trouble this quickly. Ant and I can’t help but hold in matching mischievous grins. “My office now!”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So what were you and Ant doing in the dunnies together?” Cash mumbles the minute my brother is out of earshot and inside Harry’s diner, no doubt trying to chat up all the girls who are trying to eat their chippies in peace.

Slapping him straight in the chest, my eyes flicker towards the door of the diner, wary that Chook will pop out at any second and overhear our conversation. He feigns annoyance, dramatically throwing his hand up to his chest, acting as if I’ve just shot him.

“Oh my god, nothing!”

“I saw your names on the map Y/N, can you blame me for thinking you were trying to cop a root?”

“Shut the fuck up! Nothing happened okay?” I whisper as aggressively as I can, playing with the hem of my pinstripe mini dress in the hopes that I can distract myself from this conversation.

“I dunno, Amerie seemed to think you two were destined.”

“Who’s destined?”

Chook’s voice alarms me, head snapping up to spot the slightly older, male version of myself walking only mere feet away from Cash and I. His casual demeanor suggests he hasn’t overheard the rest of our conversation for which I’m thankful. Locking eyes with Cash, I shake my head in the subtlest way possible so he knows not to say a word. If Chook found out about the map, not only would I be dead, but Cash as well, so it’s in the best interest of both of us not to open our mouths about yesterday’s events.

“Spider and his imaginary girlfriend. That boy is gonna be in a serious relationship with his hand for the foreseeable future.” The lie slips off my tongue so easily that it’s rather concerning. Chook doesn’t question me, though why would he? I learned from the best.

“Sure. You prepared for the cemetery tonight kid?” Chook asks Cash, not even bothering to look up at him as he stashes the boot of the car with countless amounts of junk food he had just collected from Harry’s. “Thank god you stayed at school for another year, since this little bitch didn’t wanna take over as our connect.”

“My bad that I didn’t wanna be running around, pushing drugs for you for the rest of my school life.” I argue, Chook pulling faces as I speak in response. Deciding that this is an argument not worth having today, after all, it’s one we’ve had many times before.

“Yeah, all good brah.” Cash chimes in, answering Chook’s question to put an end to our petty argument before we can take it even further. Before we can get physically violent, even if it is only in a playful manner.

“You two best get going hey, maximize profit and all that.”

Cash doesn’t need any further instruction, hopping on his motorbike after passing me his fanny pack to store in the bag on the back. Something he always does in order to ensure that all his supply is kept perfectly safe while he drives. I’d consider it smart if I didn’t know it was drugs he was keeping safe. Chook jumps in his car, nodding in our direction as he flies out of the car park with Jayden and Tilla shouting out of the window at us. I can’t help but smile at their antics.

Cash offers me a hand on to the back of his bike, hiking my tiny dress up even further so that I can throw my leg over the vehicle. Wrapping my arms around his waist tightly, he watches in his mirror for me to nod before taking off. A habit he picked up when he first began to drive me around on what I like to call his ‘death trap’.

Dance music is belting from the many speakers when we arrive at the cemetery, a fire pit glowing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor as people crowd around it. The sun is already setting as we arrive, illuminating the party in a way that looks angelic. Upon reaching one of the many piles of drinks, it’s hard to notice Amerie dancing crazily, along with Darren, Quinni and Malachai. I point it out to Cash, the pair of us surprised that she has any friends left considering her actions.

Parting ways with the eshay I find taking a swig from one of the numerous vodka bottles before grabbing a bottle of bus, watching as Cash immediately begins to get to work, Sasha instantly running over to him the moment she spots him alone. Rolling my eyes, I plant myself further away from the party, sat with my back against one of the decrepit headstones.

I’ve always been more of an introvert. Opting to be a wallflower and observe rather than be the center of attention, unlike my fellow classmates who all seem to thrive when the spotlight is on them. I hate Amerie for forcing me into that spotlight.

Between sips of the slightly warm lager, I begin to roll myself a joint, figuring I may as well attempt to have a good time at the party. Even if it isn’t my ideal Tuesday night. I couldn’t let Cash come on his own though, not when he’s working for my brother.

“You are a bad girl Y/N Y/L/N.” Ant’s voice shouts from a short distance away, strolling towards me with a cheeky grin slapped across his face. “What is this? The second time I’ve caught you smoking now?”

“Right well I was just about to offer to share this with you but I guess not now.” I joke, lighting it up as Ant flops down beside me. “And technically, I haven’t even smoked this yet so you’ve only caught me once.”

“It totally counts!” Ant argues, waiting patiently as I take a couple of puffs before handing him the joint. “How’d your brother take it when he found out about the map?”

“You’re safe if that’s what you’re asking. I haven’t told him and he’s not the type of bloke that answers the phone when Woodsy rings.” He hands the joint back to me, fingers brushing mine tenderly. “Your mum?

“Not great. Amerie really fucked things up for me, I have to go to church three more times a week now, all because of one wristy and well you know.”

“Did you tell her the truth about us?” I inquire, wondering if he did come clean completely about our situationship of sorts.

“Nah, I told her it was just the once.” He admits, glancing at me sheepishly, almost embarrassed to recount the memory. “Figured that was better than telling her the truth. I may have also turned her that you were my girlfriend at the time, you know, to kind of make it better. Not that she approves of premarital sex or anything and I know we didn’t label what we were but it sounded better in the moment. I hope that’s okay.”

“Lying to your mother Anthony, that’s not very christian of you!” I gasp, to which he snatches the joint back out of my hand in retaliation, laughing along with me.

“Fuck yourself.” Ant chuckles, blowing the smoke directly in my face without any warning, causing me to descend into a fit of coughs.

“What’s the deal with you and Cash anyway? You two a thing now?” Ant’s not looking up at me when he speaks, all his attention fixated on the crowd of teenagers partying in the distance. Anxiously pulling blades of grass from the ground beneath me, I continue to gaze at him, a sigh falling from my lips as I had hoped he hadn’t noticed the line between Cash and my name. It was inevitable that it was going to come up, I had just hoped it would be something that people skirted around, not asking any direct questions.

“Nah.” The word is faint, shaking my head, my eyes fall on the boy in question, completely unaware that we are speaking about him as he stands in conversation with Darren. “We’re just mates.”

The boy nods besides me though I can tell he doesn’t truly believe me, still unable to look in my direction. Nudging him slightly, I give a small smile when he does hesitantly face me. “We hooked up once a few weeks ago, I was pretty much black out and he was just there. It was a fucking stupid decision.”

“Just mates though?” Ant asks, more of a rhetorical question, as if to reassure himself, much to my confusion as I can’t see why it would matter to him whether we were just mates or not. “Okay but who was better?”

Bloodshot eyes and a lazy smile indicate to me that the joint has hit him quicker than either of us expected. Warm blush present on his cheeks, his head tipped back against the headstone , gazing up at the stars that begin to light up the late summer skies.

“You’re so stoned.” I comment, completely dodging the question in the hopes that he’s too high to remember what he had even asked.

“Just like old times, yeah.”

Ant’s fingers brush over my hand just barely, the touch so slight that I wouldn’t have felt it had I not been looking in that direction. Thumb softly tracing circles across the back of my palm, skin feeling as though its been set alight with every small movement. Turning my head, I find Ant already staring at me, mouth curved upwards into a slight smile.

“I wish I never cooked it with you.”

Despite knowing that he is as high as a kite, his words still manage to catch me off guard. Forcing me to pull away, leaning back to take him in properly. From his somber expression to the deep intensity with which he looks at me, awaiting a reaction.

“Cops!” Before I can respond, shouts from the party grab my attention. Head spinning round to see the chaos unfolding, teenagers running in every direction, some scream, whilst others laugh. “Cops! The cops are coming!”

“Oh shit.”

Discarding the bottle I had been nursing, I hop to my feet within seconds, Ant, who now looks surprisingly sober, does the same. Without hesitation, he is grabbing my hand before we take off in a sprint, running in the opposite direction of the flashing lights and sirens that are rolling up to the gatho. As the crowds disperse, I find myself scanning through the seas of people, looking for a certain eshay that would get into a lot of trouble, should he be caught. “Where’s Cash?” Voice breathy, I force Ant and I to a halt, searching my entire field of vision for any sign of him, head spinning so fast that I’m shocked I didn’t give myself vertigo. “Ant, I can’t see him. Where’s Cash?”

“Y/N we need to go.”

With his free hand, Ant easily slides it around my waist, using all his strength to pry my feet from the pavement. Regardless of my unwillingness, I allow the boy to lead us away from the party. Not wanting to run the risk of getting caught, so instead I recite prayers in my head that Cash also hasn’t been caught.

Upon reaching the locked gate, Ant wastes no time in easily pushing me up so that I can scramble over the metal. He does so with ease, a proud display of his strength and it makes me blush. Reminiscing on the ways he used that strength before.

Running hand in hand down the noiseless streets of Sydney, I find myself giggling at tonight’s events. The prospect of an exciting, if slightly chaotic year eleven rises upon the horizon and I can’t help but display my enthusiasm at seeing where the next few months take me. (Hopefully, with Ant by my side, but nobody needs to know that.)

[myhaikyuuacademia]

Totally Fake | Ant Vaughn x reader (Heartbreak High) ||

This is officially a series haha, trying to make it slowburn-ish but let's see if i can hold myself back

Fake dating, fem!reader

@foxxyhun

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Thankfully you had managed to get Ant’s number by Friday, not so thankfully you spent all day chatting with him about stupid, irrelevant stuff and Not about what your gameplan was going to be. And if, IF, you were actually going to the party later this evening, he’d probably be too wasted to talk about it anyway.  Which means SLUTS was the last chance you had with him still sober and not hungover. Except you had no idea how to go about it, especially without drawing the attention of your friends who had been watching you like hawks all week. You were the first one in the classroom, anxiously ripping your notebook paper into tiny shreds while thinking about all the logistics. You didn’t get very far when you sensed someone sitting down next to you. “What did the poor paper do to deserve that?” Ant asked amusedly. “Wrong place, wrong time.” You grimaced and shrugged, immediately stopping and throwing all the paper shreds into your pencil case. “Oh no, don’t stop because of me, I’m sure it deserved it.” He joked before settling in his seat. “You don’t wanna sit next to your friends?” You asked, with a nod to the table they usually sat at. “Nah, I’d rather sit with my girlfriend.” He said casually. You didn’t feel very casual as you choked on your spit. God how embarrassing. It took you a minute to calm down, Ant worriedly asking if you were okay, and offering you some of his water, which you declined with a hand gesture as you were starting to calm down.  “Sorry, sorry, I’m fine.” You coughed out. “Actually, that’s what I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” He looked at you, almost disappointed, “You’re backing out?” He assumed. “What? No!” You hurried to say. “I wanted to talk about lining up our stories and everything, ground rules and stuff, you know?” Relief flooded his face, “Ah, okay gotcha!” He seemed much happier. The class was slowly filling up and you were dreading the moment your friends would enter. “Well I already told pretty much everyone that you’re my girlfriend.” He added, catching you completely offguard as you watched the doorway waiting for the inevitable arrival of your friends. “Oh.” Surprised you turned your head to look at him. “Okay.” You added after a second. “What about your mom?”

“Nah, not her yet. But like, Spider and Dusty.” He clarified. Your face felt warm. “Did you tell them it was fake too?” You leaned in closer to whisper it, now that the class was almost full. “No.” He grinned at you conspiringly. You grinned back at him, his answer, and the way he looked at you, making your whole body tingle. “Oh. My. God.” Darrens dramatic voice came from opposite the table. “You two totally ARE together.” Amerie beside them looked satisfied with herself, while Quinni stimmed excitedly, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. They sat down at your table while Ant put an arm around your shoulder, “Yeah, so what?” He asked. Your face was burning, as was the parts where his arm touched you. Darrens mouth wide agape, while Quinni looked just as excited as before. “Oh my god, y/n, that’s so cute!! Congrats!” She said, happily, but after a second she looked a little less happy and a little more confused. Disappointed, even. “But why didn’t you tell us?” She asked. “Thrill of a secret relationship I bet.” Amerie added, feeling much cooler than she actually was. “But really, him?” Darren pointed at Ant. Wow rude. Your brows furrowed and you leaned into the boy next to you a little more without noticing. “What do you mean? You don’t think he's cute?” Trying to paddle back Darren stuttered out something a long the lines of, “No, that’s not what I mean, I just, I didn’t think he was your type is all.” “well, to be fair, we never knew what her type was.” Quinni added. “She never told us who she was crushing on, or what she liked in a guy, or girl.” You nodded, she was telling the truth, you usually kept things like that to yourself. “Well, I for one, am happy for you two, though I totally didn’t get any vibes when I was asking for a slap band earlier this week.” Amerie said, crossing her arms. She sounded accusing, like she was about to interrogate the two of you, when thankfully Miss Obah asked everyone to pay attention and started class. Ant didn’t take his arm off your shoulder the whole time.

When he finally did, after class ended, you couldn’t suppress your pout. Logically, you understood it was so both of you could pack your things, but this whole thing didn’t feel very logical, no matter how hard you tried. So instead, once both of you had finished, you grabbed his hand and threaded your fingers with his. Still slightly pouting. He looked down at you and laughed, “What now?” “I think she’s upset you took your arm off of her.” Darren, eagle-eyed gossip lover they are, supplied. “Oh, really?” Ant seemed surprised and looked at you for confirmation. “Yeah, kinda.” You mumbled embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. He chuckled before leaning in close and whispering in your ear. “I’ll touch you all you want at the party later.” Your face was beet red. “Ant!” You whisper shouted, scandalized and wide-eyed. He just tugged you along with him, towards the school exit. “They’re so cute together.” You overheard Quinni say to Amerie and Darren behind you. “Something’s fishy.” Both of them replied in unison. You ignored it, keeping going with Ant. “What now?” You asked once outside the school gate, still holding his hand. Refusing to be the one to let go, actually. “Well, I have some time before the party starts, which, you totally are going to right?” He asked in such a way that you felt a no would break his heart, so you just nodded. How come you are immune to peer-pressure when it was your friends but not when it was the guy you’ve been fake-dating for less than a week. “Great! Well, wanna hang out until then?” You smiled. “Sure!! Oh, we can talk about the logistics of it all, like when did we even start dating and what church do I go to? Or is that even something that’s important to your mother?” You dragged him along, totally rambling at this point about all the different things you had to decide on for the story to be foolproof. When you turned to look at him, waiting for him to say something, you noticed the way he was smiling at you. “Oh, what? Am I overthinking?” You questioned out loud. “No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much.” He still looked at you in a way you had trouble deciphering. “Oh. Well, I guess I don’t talk a lot. Usually. But also we haven’t really spoken before this week so…” You trailed off. “Hmmh, yeah, but we’ve been in the same year for a while now.” He said, before turning back to look at the way ahead. “You usually only talk when spoken to.” Oh. He had noticed that? He had noticed you? Before you ever talked to him? “Oh, um. I guess that’s right.” You squeezed his hand subconsciously. “I like hearing you talk.” He squeezed your hand back. “Plus, you’re so smart, I wouldn’t have thought about half of the things you mentioned. Maybe we should write it all down.” You nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

“Woah, your room is awesome.”  Ant was currently walking through your room looking at all the little trinkets that were… everywhere frankly. Picking them up and putting them down again. “Haha, thanks.” You sat on the edge of your bed, not knowing what to do with yourself as you watched him. “Woah, you like Marvel?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Uh yeah, I love it.” You laughed. He put the action figure down and turned around, very serious all of a sudden. “This calls for a movie night.” He explained. You grinned. “Sure, I’m always up for a movie.. But let’s talk business first.” You scooched to the side and patted the spot next to you. He groaned dramatically and walked over before sitting down. “Why does this feel like homework all of a sudden.” Your face scrunched up at that. “Sorry. But this is just so our story doesn’t fall apart.” He turned to look at you, head hanging to the side. “You really think it’s necessary?” “Well. Yeah.” You reply. “What if your mom asks us how we met, our what our first date was, and we say different things. Better to be prepared.” He pouts playfully, “Well, fine I guess.” In the end you agree on simple things, you met at school, duh, and worked a project together, after which you became friends, before Ant asked you on a date to the diner, and then a second date to the movies, before asking you to be his girlfriend. Easy enough. He said it was okay not to go to church as long as you were still acting Christian enough in front of his mom. Whatever that means. The reason he was only introducing you now was because you could disprove what was written on the map. You were scared of meeting his parents, so it had taken you a while to gather the courage, and he wanted to be sure before bringing a girlfriend home. Easy. Plausible. Good story. Boring, but believable. In the end you wrote it all down, twice, one copy for you and one for him, just in case you needed it. “Can we finally watch a movie?” He whined as you gave him his paper. “I don’t know, the party is soon, and I don’t know about you, but I definitely have to get ready. You think we can manage to squeeze a movie in?” He nodded, completely convinced. “How long can it take to get ready.” Not believing this was an issue. “Oh buddy…If only you knew.” You patted his shoulder before getting your remote and turning on the tv. It was difficult, at first, to concentrate on the movie, when he was so close and warm, shoulder against shoulder, and legs touching. Your body felt on fire. After a while he wrapped his arm around you too, pulling you ever so slightly closer, if that was even possible.

“Oh! I love this part.” He pointed towards the screen with the hand not resting on your hip. “What? No way, that’s my favorite part.” You looked up at him excitedly. “No way!” He turned to look at you too. You nodded emphatically. “You’re so cool.” He gave you a squeeze. He turned back towards the screen, and you did too, after staring at him for a little while longer. In the end, he ended up staying, watching you get ready, since there was no time for him to go home before Dusty’s band performed. “Whoa, wait, what is that?” You were about to put on your fake lashes, putting glue on the strip when Ant’s head popped up next to you, dangerously close to poking your lash with his finger. “My fake lashes.” You explained. “Your lashes are fake?” He turned to you, staring intensely into your eyes, inspecting your lashes. “No, well yes, sometimes. I have real lashes. The one you’re looking at right now.” You laughed. “But sometimes I put on fake lashes, which looks kinda-“ You  leaned towards the mirror to put your lashes on. “like this.” You said, leaning back to show him. “Oh my god that’s crazy.” He breathed out, totally stunned, which made you laugh even harder. After that he stayed next to you, watching you apply your makeup closely. “Hmmm..” You pursed your lips as you put the last thing in place. “I think that’s it.” You concluded.  Before you could even turn to the side to face him, his voice piped up as he asked: “Can you put some on me?” The request came unexpectedly, but you happily obliged. You opted for some chrome glimmery dark blue green ish, you didn’t really know how to describe it, glitter shadow to put on top of his eyelids. Dabbing it in softly, he leaned in closely and you could feel his breath on your skin. “Okay, try opening your eyes.” You requested softly, holding his chin in your hand and looking at him intensely, assessing your work. He opened his eyes hesitantly. Chewing on your lip you came to the conclusion that this look needed some black liner, so you added a line underneath his eyes on his waterline, dragging it out into a straight “wing”. A difficult job, with this being a sensitive area and Ant not used to having stuff put this close to his eyes. He kept squirming and blinking, but eventually you got the job done to your satisfaction. “This looks sick.” You say as you remove your hands from his face and lean back. Giving him time to admire himself in your mirror, you put away your brushes and powders and liners. “You want to do something to your hair too?” He turned to look at you at that. “Kinda.” You look on your phone to check the time, before grimacing. “Sorry, I don’t think we have time. Actually we really need to go if we wanna make it in time.” You stand up and hold your hand out to him, pulling him up from where he was sitting. Your friends were definitely going to give you shit about barely reaching out to them later.

[mr-and-mr-mitchell]

Mend A Broken Wing

Rowan is torn between Amerie and Malakai, wanting them both, resenting them both. Fed up with the pressure to choose, he decides he'll have them both. Whatever it takes.

[maroonangels]

// “gonna psychoanalyze me some more?” //

|| pairings: Spencer ‘Spider’ White & Harper McLean, Spencer ‘Spider’ White & Amerie Wadia

|| 2k+ word count || rated teen & up

|| tags: underage smoking, marijuana, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, implied/referenced drug use, the night of the festival is talked about, spencer ‘spider’ white has feelings, dusty reid bashing, spider’s still gone for amerie, I gave spider family lore

|| excerpt: “I don’t know, it’s just easier.” Said while looking down at his sneakers that still have blood stained on the canvas with the extra bit of the laces wrapped around his ankle to tie unevenly in the front. The shoes are years old, that blood has been there for years, at least he thinks it has. It could be from last week. It’s hard to keep track of the new stains from the old.

“Amerie says you were sweet to her.” Harper says and hands the joint they’ve been smoking back to Spider. This conversation is so weird when he thinks about it- sitting in Amerie’s backyard smoking with Harper McLean as a party goes on inside. How the fuck did he get here?

full fic on my ao3

[sunflowervol31]

I told myself my fic writing days are over, but this story is sitting half-finished in my drafts and there’s shockingly little HH content out there right now… Would anyone be interested in reading the full thing? 

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

“You,” Darren muttered darkly, grunting as they pushed themselves up over the lip of the roof, “are going to be the death of me, Douglas.”

They paused, chest pressed against the rough brick to catch their breath, before swinging their legs over the wall with a final shove. Their shoes landed firmly on the stone with a dull thud, before they pitched forward with the momentum to lift their bag from where it lay a few paces away, blindly thrown over the edge before Darren had started their ascent.

A wave of relief washed over them as they straightened. Cash, propped up on his elbows with a startled look on his face, was lying across the roof only a few yards ahead of Darren, his long legs sprawled out in front of him and half shaded by an air conditioning unit.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Darren breathed. Cash only blinked at them owlishly, shifting to rest his arms over bent knees. His shoulders curled up sheepishly.

Huffing and eyes rolling, Darren walked across the roof towards him. Cash watched them approach warily, squinting up at Darren in the late afternoon sun. He didn’t say anything as Darren came to a stop in front of him, shoes a breath apart.

“You’re supposed to be in class,” Darren admonished softly, without greeting.

Eyes slipping shut, Cash flopped back onto the roof with a quiet groan. He brought his right arm up to cover his face, hiding behind the tanned skin of his inner elbow, while his other hand lifted to tangle in the gold chain around his neck, a habitually nervous gesture. His knuckles flashed white, briefly, as he tightened his grip around the necklace.

Darren studied the gentle rise and fall of Cash’s ribs lifting under the material of his shirt for a beat, before kicking Cash’s foot gently. Cash grumbled unintelligibly.

“What happened?” Darren asked.

“Nothing,” Cash said instantly, voice muffled. Darren kicked him again, slightly harder. “Ow,” Cash mumbled, trying to shift away ineffectually.

“Cash,” Darren said.

Cash let his arm fall away with a sigh. Eyes still closed, he tilted his head back against the ground, the column of his throat exposed. His jaw worked back and forth wordlessly, contemplating in that carefully quiet way that Darren had grown so accustomed to. “It’s not a big deal,” Cash said finally.

“Then tell me what happened,” Darren said easily, dropping to the floor in a graceful swoop. They crossed their legs under themselves, hands hooking around opposite ankles. The ground was uncomfortably hard beneath them, but the sun warmed the bare skin of their forearms.

Darren waited.

[ace-loric]

First Heartbreak High fic because my ADHD said I had to start and finish this one before finishing any of the other WIPs 😅

Anyways, here’s the summary:

The aftermath of Darren saying there was something wrong with Cash.

"There might be something really fucking wrong with you, Cash, go use somebody else to figure it out.”

Cash watches in shock as Darren slams his bedroom door on the way out. The whole thing felt like a dagger through his chest.

[1nhal3r]

DROP A PIN ⋆ PROLOGUE

“i fell in love with avoiding problems, and that was the problem.” — come on mess me up by cub sport

WORD COUNT: 7020

OSKAR'S LEAST FAVOURITE TIME OF DAY is the few minutes between the end of evening and the beginning of night. The sun shines its final specks of light in the sky and goes down in the west, leaving beautiful colours as it descends. He's watched the sky dim many times (especially this summer, he's spent most of his break rotting in bed because his parents decided it was the perfect time to ground him) and he's felt himself go down with it.

The life gets sucked out of him, in those moments that the sun disappears, and leaves him with a darkness he can't bear. Something about seeing all-black everything while stuck in his huge empty house with nothing to do makes it difficult for him to pretend to not hate himself. He thinks that the light outside helps him find distractions to ease the unsavoury thoughts that have plagued him for so long, but once the sun goes to sleep, so does his brain's will to ignore what he really thinks about himself.

Today—or night—was worse than usual. Earlier in the afternoon, his parents left for another out-of-country business trip, leaving him by his lonesome. Oskar would usually thank his lucky stars that his parents wouldn't be home for a while, even if staying by himself in such a big space made discomfort churn in his stomach. However, after he spent the afternoon listening to them pack and pace around the house behind his closed door, his mother called him out of his room and they started chewing him out. He couldn't say he didn't somewhat deserve it, but he was left with their harsh words and glares as the last memory he would have of them until they decided to come back.

(Part of him wonders if those trips dragged out so much because they were avoiding coming home to see him.)

Soon after, the front door slammed shut, indicating their departure, and Oskar felt himself start to sink down into this all too familiar self-loathing. It hit him hard—his body numbed with it in the span of a few minutes—so Oskar attempted to push the feeling out by wasting the rest of that shitty evening on his phone, moving to his laptop when mindlessly scrolling through socials didn't work. The pit, as he likes to call it—that feeling like there was a hole in the middle of his chest—still carved itself a place inside his heart, hollowing him out, each breath sending the feeling deeper.

Oskar continued fight it.

When the sun made its descent, it was so much harder to ignore the emptiness in his chest and focus on either of his screens, but Oskar is nothing if not stubborn.

He gave up eventually, when it was around 1 AM, and decided to outsource.

Oskar likes to pretend he's a professional at compartmentalizing. Well, his version of it, anyway. He files away—read: intentionally disregards—unpleasant moments and emotions to be forgotten into the void that is his mind, until his brain decides it would be fun to make him remember. So, instead of spending more time enduring the internal suffering brought on by his parents' opinion of him, he was getting ready to see Jackson.

Well, getting ready is pushing it—those words make it seem like he’s putting effort into himself and pulling himself together. In reality, he just puts on gray sweatpants he finds sprawled out on his bedroom floor (after they pass a sniff test, he's not a total dog) and a black tee with some worn-out graphic design plastered onto it. It's too hot of a summer in Sydney to wear anything heavier and he swears he forgot how to dress appropriately, having spent most of summer break indoors.

Oskar stands in front of his mirror, looking himself over. His dirty blonde hair is a mess from spending the whole day tossing and turning in his bed. He shakes his head—sort of violently, like a dog drying its coat—and then threads his fingers through it, using them as a substitute for a comb. His arm starts cramping up after a good few seconds, so he leaves it alone, grabs his phone and his tangled up earbuds from the edge of his bed and heads towards the front door. He slips on his Converse like slippers, pressing his heels on the back of the shoes, and leaves his house at the ripe time of 1:05 in the morning.

Jackson doesn't live too far away from Oskar—they live around the same neighbourhood, so he decides to walk there even if his limbs feel a little heavy. He has a few friends that live by him that could drop him off if he really wanted, but he would rather stay home and rot than ask any of them for a ride to a booty call. That sort of humiliation isn't something he's gonna subject himself to, especially since his reason for wanting some action was pretty pathetic.

He ambles past the few people out at this time; some late workers and drunk teens stumbling home after their attempt to drag out their holidays before the first day of term. Jackson's house comes into view after a couple minutes out on the road; the familiarity of this side of the neighbourhood makes Oskar spot it immediately, even in the dark.

He walks onto the gravelly path leading up to the wooden stairs attached to Jackson's porch, the pathway decorated with some rocks and flowers in pretty pots as he reaches the front door. He shifts side to side, feeling the wooden boards of the porch creak beneath his feet, and shoots Jackson a text message.

He waits, fumbling around with his phone, and then sees that his text was read. A couple moments later, the latch of the door slides slowly—the sound slightly muted by Jackson's attempt at quietness—and the door's lock gets undone soon after. The hinges creak as Jackson pulls it open. Oskar takes a deep breath and pockets his phone.

He lifts his head to make eye contact with Jackson, and notices how the boy's black hair is messy, probably indicating that he just got out of bed. His suspicion gets confirmed as he drops his eyes to Jackson's plain white shirt and boxers. A pang of guilt hits him, adding itself into the confusing mix of emotions that make up the pit in his chest, slowing making its way to his gut. He finds himself wishing he still had his weed, so he could be at home getting high, instead of looking all pathetic on Jackson's doorstep. Unfortunately, his choices were limited, since his parents found his poorly-hidden ziplock bag full of marijuana right before summer started.

“Os, hey, mate,” Jackson greets with a tired smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. Oskar forces a smile back, sighing through his nose in hopes that some of the tension he feels goes as he exhales. “Didn't expect you to come over today.” The other boy moves out of the doorway to let Oskar in.

He enters and toes his shoes off, leaving them next to several other pairs as the door shuts with a quiet thud behind him. “I wanted to see you,” Oskar replies, turning around to face Jackson. Which—

Not a total lie.

Jackson chuckles, bringing up a hand to Oskar's face and pushing his hair out of his eyes. Oskar regrets not brushing it properly as Jackson starts to thread his fingers in his hair. “You always wanna see me,” he says, all smug, running his nails against the blonde's scalp.

Oskar shrugs, a tiny bit ashamed, taking Jackson's hand out of his hair and holding the tips of his fingers. “Show me to your room?” he asks, looking up at Jackson through his eyelashes.

Jackson licks his lips as he stares down at Oskar. Oskar can see the want in his eyes, and it fills him up with the tiniest bit of desire that overrides everything else.

It's a start.

Jackson leads Oskar up the stairs that face the entrance, carefully stepping on the wooden boards as to not make them sound out. Once the door the Jackson's room is carefully closed with the both of them inside, Oskar quickly scans the room. The other boy's room is typical; he has a king sized bed with a blue comforter over top and a medium sized dresser facing it. His walls are decorated with band posters and athletes, and he has a desk in the farthest corner of the room and a bookshelf with different CDs and vinyls.

The familiarity of everything calms him some, so he saunters over to sit down on the edge of Jackson's bed, putting his hands behind him and leaning on them as he eyes Jackson up. He expects the taller boy to walk over, stand between his legs, lay him down over his comforter, and kiss him until he can’t breathe—just like all the other times Oskar's been over—but instead, he leans back against his dresser, looking down at the blonde with his bottom lip between his teeth.

Oskar scrunches his face up. “What, did you become shy or something?” he asks after a few seconds of nothing.

Jackson smiles, lip still tucked between his teeth, and pushes himself up off of his dresser to stand in front of Oskar. “Nah, just admiring' you,” he replies smoothly, which makes the blonde scoff.

“You suck at flirting,” Oskar says, fond, placing his hands on Jackson's hips under his shirt and pulling him in until he's face to face with his clothed torso. He cranes his head back, his chin reaching just below the other boy's sternum, cheekily running his fingers along the band of his boxers. “And it's actually giving me a limp dick.” Oskar grabs the band and pulls, letting it snap back against Jackson's skin, making him hiss and pull the blonde's hands out.

“You're an arse,” Jackson complains, putting his hands on Oskar's shoulder, about to straddle him. He pauses, and then brings his thigh back down. “Actually, you get on top.”

Oskar whistles teasingly. “Switching things up, are we?”

Jackson rolls his eyes and pinches Oskar's side, right below his nipple. “Shut up,” he chides, backing away to let Oskar get up.

As they switch their positions, Oskar standing and Jackson sitting, the taller boy spreads his legs and pats his thighs, inviting the blonde to sit on them. Oskar's stomach knots and his face heats. He can't deny that the gesture does it for him, but he's not about to let it be known.

He straddles Jackson, making himself comfortable in his lap. He wraps his arms around the other boy's neck, and squirms until Jackson grabs his hips and hoists him closer, making their crotches touch. Oskar was already interested by that point, so the pressure on his dick makes him breathe out a pleased sigh. Even the slightest pleasure starts to cloud over all other emotion; it makes Oskar want more.

“You missed by the way,” he says, playing with the few wisps of hair at the back of the other boy's head.

“Missed what?”

Oskar laughs a little. “My nipple,” he clarifies, “your hand-eye coordination needs work.”

Jackson scoffs, gripping Oskar's hips harder which startles out a closed-mouth whimper from him. “Shut up,” he repeats and then he connects their lips together.

Oskar kisses back immediately, too needy for his liking, but he relaxes into Jackson's touch, weak to it. The previous tension he was carrying around seeps out of him bit by bit each time their lips connect, and Oskar lets out a small noise of relief against Jackson's mouth. Jackson licks his bottom lip and then bites down softly, making Oskar moan and open his mouth enough for the taller boy to slide his tongue in.

All the emotions that make up the pit in Oskar’s chest slowly get overridden by pleasure. He focuses on how good Jackson is being to him and he starts being able to ignore the pit. He wants to forget it completely, wants to feel okay, so he grinds his hips against Jackson's and moans into his mouth.

He doesn't get far.

After three clumsy movements of his hips, they get stilled by Jackson's hands, the hold on them tightening when Oskar tries to fight it, and Jackson pulls his lips away from him, panting. Oskar grips his shirt, threading his fingers into the fabric as he searches the other boy's face. Maybe he was too eager for it, or something, and Jackson was going to tease him, lighting up the shame in his gut again.

“What?” Oskar pants out, sounding insecure. It was always unspoken what they did. Well, it was after the first couple of times. It didn't take them long to become attuned to each other's bodies. Oskar can't honestly remember the last time them fucking around involved a break, so anxiety bubbles in his stomach, right next to the shame.

Jackson gazes up at him thoughtfully, his lips pushed to one side as he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, like he's biting it to hold himself back. Oskar's looking back at him expectantly, but instead of voicing what's on his mind, he cradles the blonde's face with a warm palm and trails kisses over his jaw, steadily going down his neck. Oskar knows what he's doing, but he can't help the way his breath hitches and he has to stop himself from baring his neck. The kisses are half-hearted—Oskar notices immediately—so he laces his fingers through Jackson's hair and tugs gently. The other boy separates himself from Oskar's neck, caught.

“Seriously, what?” he repeats, tensing as he lets go of Jackson's hair. Oskar can't help the shame that steadily grows in his gut, this perceived disinterest fucking with his brain and messing him up further. “I can tell you wanna say something.”

He starts to feel the pleasure that blocked out the pit in his chest slip away as Jackson distractedly runs his hands up over Oskar’s waist and down to his hips. Jackson just stares at him, in that same thoughtful manner that's starting to annoy him, but the blonde just clenches his jaw, shifting in Jackson's lap, waiting.

Jackson takes a deep breath and, all of a sudden, his eyes can't seem to stay on Oskar. Does he not want me? is, embarrassingly, Oskar's first thought, followed by an emotion that feels too similar to betrayal. “I just—” Jackson starts, then stops, licking his lips and forcing his eyes to meet Oskar's piercing ones. He takes a breath, smoothing his hands down the front of Oskar's stomach to fiddle with the drawstring of his sweats. “I like you.”

Oskar, dramatically, thinks that's the worst news he's ever heard.

What is he supposed to do with that?

He feigns ignorance.

“Clearly,” Oskar replies, voice tight with guilt and with a grind against where Jackson's hard in his boxers.

The taller boy scoffs, cracks a smile, and leaves Oskar's sweats alone to still him again. Oskar's joke must've elevated some nervousness, because Jackson says, “No, really,” through a smile. “I like you—like… romantically.”

He doubled down.

Oskar feels like ice water got poured over him, hearing that word come out of Jackson's mouth.

Romantically.

He can't help the way his face drops, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest as the pit starts to peak through any feeling of okayness he managed to get. He also can't stop his arms from subconsciously sliding off of Jackson's shoulders.

“Oh.”

Jackson smiles all confused like he's unable to believe Oskar's reaction, furrows his eyebrows, and then tries to relax his face to mask his hurt. “Oh?”

The hurt on his face makes Oskar's body light up with the most guilt he's felt in a long time, but as much as he wants to love someone in that way—he's learned he can't. Not effectively, at least. Now, he’s the one unable to look at the other boy.

Oskar puts his hands on the other's shoulders again, feeling his palms burn with shame, but this time, it's to help prop himself up off of Jackson's lap. When his legs touch the floor, Oskar tries to remove his hands, but he's stopped by Jackson's own.

“Oh?” Jackson repeats, staring up at him with such an inebriating mix of confusion and hurt, asking for clarification.

Oskar pulls his hands away. He takes a breath, trying to steady himself. “I thought—I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” asks Jackson, exasperated.

Oskar's eyes get a little cloudy, and he feels a lump in his throat, a crushing weight on his chest. “I'm not—I told you when we started this that I didn't want anything… romantic.”

Jackson scoffs out a humourless laugh, unbelieving. “Everyone says that, but no one actually means it.”

His words make Oskar's snap down to look at him with a miserable expression, shame hot and sharp in his stomach. Oskar has never thought that anyone around him would understand his disdain for romantic connection, but Jackson's words still make his chest clench up with a kind of hurt he's not used to feeling. He steps back, feeling this surge of uneasiness pump through his veins, but that incites Jackson to stand up.

“I meant it,” Oskar mumbles, looking back down. He focuses on the wooden floorboards of Jackson's room, forcing himself to take in the details to keep the tears he feels threatening to well up at bay.

Jackson stays quiet for a couple of moments, but Oskar feels his stare, like he's examining Oskar under a microscope, looking for any sign of deception.

He finds none, but he still demands, “be serious.”

Oskar inhales sharply. “I am.”

Jackson lets out a breath like he's been punched and then he takes a step forward, which makes Oskar raise his head to look in him in slight alarm. Jackson has this crazed look on his face and it makes Oskar tense up, his body trying to prepare itself for whatever Jackson chooses to do.

It doesn't work, because Oskar's not expecting Jackson to state, “no one wants a relationship where you just fuck,” all confidently, in a tone that leaves no room for argument, like his words are fact. “That's—fuckin' weird.”

Oskar feels himself sink deeper into the emotions he'd come here to avoid. His chest feels like it's an open wound; a throbbing, painfully numbing wound deep in his heart, in his lungs, and he feels suffocated by it, like it's taking up too much space in his ribcage. He lets his head fall as he tries to breathe through the feeling to stabilize himself, to will himself not to let more tears build up in his eyes.

Jackson steps closer again and puts his hand under Oskar's chin, between his pointer and his thumb as Oskar flinches at the contact. He guides his head up and gazes down at the blonde with an expression that makes Oskar's stomach churn with discomfort.

Then, Jackson's eyes turn soft, almost pitiful. “I was giving you sex because I thought that's what you needed to open up,” he admits, tone all sweet and gentle like those words aren't knifes against Oskar's skin. Like they won't stay with Oskar and add themselves to the thoughts that seep away at his will to be. “At some point,” he continues, uncaring of the way Oskar's shoulders have raised up to his ears, the way Oskar's tears have started to slide down his face. “I was—I don't know—expecting something back.”

Oskar feels dirty. He thinks back to all the time they've messed around, and he feels nausea swirl around his stomach.

He yanks Jackson's hand off of his chin and glares up at him, tears still sliding down his face and clouding his vision. “You thought fucking me would make me like you back?” he asks, venomous despite all the guilt and shame swirling in his gut.

Jackson has the audacity to look embarrassed. “When you say it like that, it sounds desperate,” he huffs. “But, yeah… I just thought that's how you were.”

Oskar didn't think he could feel worse.

How he was? Like Oskar's so easy that fucking him would make him feel love, an emotion that he's tried so hard to force on himself to appear normal in the eyes of others—starting with all the girls he's talked to knowing he couldn't give them what they wanted out of him—when all his friends suddenly got interested in romance.

If only it were that easy.

Oskar breathes out, sniffles, and raises his head towards the ceiling in hopes of keeping more tears from rolling down his cheeks. “Well,” he tries, his voice breaking a little, his throat tight with a lump, “sorry you wasted your time.”

Oskar sees Jackson process the rejection out of the corner of his eye; his face going from disbelief to anger in just a couple tense moments. Oskar crushes his eyes together and scrunches his face up, not wanting to see Jackson's face anymore as he brings his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes, trying to get rid of the wetness there.

Eventually, the silence is broken by Jackson's indignant scoff and Oskar immediately stops rubbing at his eyes, tilting his head down to look at the taller boy as he takes a step closer to him, making himself bigger to tower over the blonde.

Jackson's face is darker than it was just a moment ago, his eyes full of a sort of outrage Oskar's never seen before. “So, you used me.”

Oskar struggles to process the words. His brows knot together as he searches Jackson's face. “What?”

“You used me for sex.”

Oskar blanches, jolting slightly in shock as words escape him at the accusation. A voice inside his head whispers you did, didn't you? as his brain helpfully provides him with flashing images of all the times he's showed up to the taller boy's house, looking stress relief.

He feels nauseous, his stomach swimming with intoxicating amounts of guilt and shame as his chest clenches. “What—no,” he denies, but he wonders if he's telling the truth. “I told you what this was when we started this.”

Jackson huffs, and Oskar can feel all the frustration radiating off of him with him this close. “Yeah,” he acknowledges reluctantly, and the logical part of Oskar thinks that recognition should make some of his guilt die out, but it doesn't, and Jackson continues bitterly, “but what kind of freak just wants sex? Everyone wants a romantic relationship.”

Oskar's eyes fill up with tears again instantly and they start to roll down his cheeks as his breath stutters in his chest. It was weird, wasn't it? He can't love properly, he can't give back to anyone, yet he still wants?

Oskar might be the worst kind of person.

“This freak doesn't,” he replies, voice thick with emotion.

Jackson breathes out angrily, like he can't accept Oskar's rejection. “At least you know what you are.”

Jackson outright saying what he thinks of Oskar now that he knows of Oskar's incapability to love is what makes all the guilt and shame turn into anger, even for just a second.

“Fuck you!” Oskar grunts out loudly as he shoves Jackson as hard as he can, making him stumble back against his bed, the bed frame roughly colliding with the wall behind it.

Oskar feels ripped apart afterwards, so overwhelmingly empty that the anger doesn't cling onto him like it usually does, instead it just leaves his entire body numb in the way he tried so hard to avoid. He just wants to leave now, to escape, so he hurries to the door and harshly turns the handle, opening it and then slamming it behind him, a loud thud sounding out throughout the second floor.

He clumsily runs down the stairs, tears clouding his vision, and hears the creak of multiple doors opening behind him as he makes it to the front door, so he doesn't bother putting his shoes on. He bends down and grabs them instead, opens the door and walks outside, his socked feet stepping over Jackson's porch, and then the rocks on the gravel path leading up to it.

Tears can't stop rolling out of his eyes, onto his cheeks and down his chin, dripping down and dampening his shirt as he struggles to sniffle quietly. His hand comes up to his face once in a while, wiping away at what he can even if he knows the wetness will come back in just a few seconds. It's hard to see or breathe as he passes through Jackson's neighbourhood, his vision fogged and his breath halting in his chest every few seconds. The black sky and the few street lights aren't helping either; the night envelops him in this darkness that makes the pit sink deeper and deeper into his being.

He needs to get away. He needs to be anywhere else than with another person who thinks lowly of him.

---

Oskar mindlessly drifts through the upper-class neighbourhood Jackson lives in, getting further and further away from his house with tears still streaking down his face as he moves with fatigue in each step. He barely feels real anymore—he can barely feel anything at all. His body knows it’s sad, so tears keep flowing, but he feels disconnected from himself. He can't focus on where he's going, he just keeps putting one foot in front of the other. The pit is still there, and even through the disconnect he feels, the pit makes it harder for him to move.

His feet are killing him; he tripped on rocks a couple of times, which made his thin socks rip open and some parts of his feet scrape against whatever bullshit was out on the sidewalk, bruising and cutting them open.

His head is also killing him, swirling with thoughts that Oskar would do anything to stop, and crying so much gave him an intense migraine.

He thinks it would be better for him not to be here.

Oskar stops, right next to a mailbox, when his feet feel like they're about to fall off, lifting his shirt up one-handed to wipe the tears away from his face. He takes a deep breath and yawns, exhausted by the overstimulating amount of sensation he's felt within his body. It's the worst he's felt in a while.

He always forgets it can get this bad.

He looks around, eyes heavy, to his right then to his left, and furrows his eyebrows. He's standing in front of Dusty's house. He tries to perk up, since his subconscious didn't let him forget that he had a friend in this part of the neighbourhood, but the pit promptly stops that, instead spreading a horrible wave of intense numbness throughout his chest.

He sighs, rounds Dusty's dad's car and makes his way up his driveway and to his front door.

Once he's standing at the entrance, he shifts a bit, staring at the door in contemplation. It was probably pretty late by now, so he has no doubt that Dusty's asleep.

He chews on his lip as he uses his unoccupied hand to get his phone out of the pocket of his sweats, and it lights up as he raises it to his face. The screen's brightness nearly blinds him, but he squints and the time reads 1:45 in the morning. He feels a wave of guilt flash through him as he unlocks it to phone Dusty anyway.

His thumb hesitates over the call button, but he presses it anyway, regret filling him up as he hears the phone ring. Oskar wears out his lip as he waits, taking a deep breath through his nose, before his call goes through.

“Hello?” Dusty says over the phone, his voice groggy and slightly deeper from sleep. Oskar hears the sound of bedsheets moving over the phone and presumes that Dusty moved to sit up. Oskar hesitates to speak, breath caught in his throat, and that urges Dusty's raspy voice to sound out through his phone's speakers again. “Hello..?”

Oskar breathes in.

“Mate, I'm—” he tries, but his voice is muddle by all the tears he's shed, so he clears it a couple of times, willing himself not to tear up as he rids himself of the lump that wants to form in his throat. His words feel heavy. “I'm outside, can you let me in?”

The line goes quiet for a few moments and Oskar scrunches his face up, expecting rejection, but Dusty just lets out a confused, “what?” like he didn't hear him. Oskar really doesn't want to repeat himself, he thinks the shame he'd feel from that would send him crying again, but Dusty's phone picks up the sound of his bedsheets shuffling and the floor creaking, which tells Oskar that he got up out of bed.

Oskar puts his lips in a thin line and sighs as the door unlocks soon after. He hangs up the phone and puts it back in his pocket as Dusty comes into view, running his hands through his bed hair and blinking at him a few times. He's only wearing sleep pants that hang low on his hips, and, traitorously, Oskar's brain makes him notice how his boxers peak out slightly.

He burns with slight mortification, forcing his eyes to look at Dusty.

Dusty just tiredly looks Oskar over, noticing his usually pale face all red. All at once, Oskar sees the fatigue fight its way off of his face as he asks, “shit, you okay?”

“Yeah, just peachy.”

Dusty cracks a smile at that and decides to not say anything else, even though Oskar knows how much of a mess he looks right now, all pathetic at his doorstep. He moves to the side to let Oskar in as he continues to eye him down. Oskar sort of feels like Dusty's looking right through him, that he can tell Oskar's fucked, somehow, like how Jackson’s figured that out. Oskar sighs and drops his shoes, stepping further into Dusty's house as the door closes behind him.

There's a light awkwardness hanging in the air between them because Oskar knows that Dusty sees how bad he's fairing, but Dusty's never been a particularly emotional person, so he keeps quiet.

Oskar gazes at his socks, toeing them down to hide the holes as he feels Dusty's expectant stare on him, like if his eyes are piercing enough, the blonde will bare his soul. Oskar peers up, instead, and licks his lips, before asking as nonchalantly as possible, “do you have any… drinks?”

The taller boy frowns immediately and Oskar tries to keep his face as still as possible. Dusty quirks his head to the side. “Drinks?” he repeats, incredulous.

Oskar rolls his eyes, feeling his eyes sting and his gut knot up. “Alcohol,” he clarifies, exaggerating the syllables in slight annoyance. He even mimes throwing a shot back.

Dusty lets out a humoured breath, smiles, and shakes his head fondly. “I know that's what you meant,” he says through his smile, and walks towards Oskar as his face turns back into the frown from earlier. “But, I also know you hate drinking. Hence,” he puts on an exaggerated questioning tone, “drinks?”

Oskar sighs again, presses his lips together into a thin line. He probably shouldn't drink, it always makes him miserable, but what other way could he stop the distressing thoughts that invade his mind, even just for a couple of hours? “Yes, drinks,” he confirms blankly. “I know what I said.” His voice is just on the edge of irritation which he can tell Dusty catches by the way he raises an eyebrow at him all concerned.

“You sure?”

Oskar frustration builds, mixing in with the dangerous cocktail of emotions thrumming through his body. “Fuck, Dusty, I'm not a child,” he says, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone, lightly glaring at Dusty. “Give me a drink.”

Dusty has this look on his face that's eerily similar to pity, which usually would piss Oskar off to no end, but that emotion is working in his favour this time, so he doesn't react to it. The taller boy makes his way to his kitchen, his bare feet tapping against the wooden and then marble floor to reach his parents' alcohol drawer with Oskar on his heels.

Dusty eyes the different drinks in contemplation. Oskar goes on his tip-toes, which hurts so he's sure his feet are cut up or bruised, to take in the options as well. He's not sure what to choose as he trails his gaze over the bottles, but he eventually stops on a drink he's heard fuck people up quickly.

“Give me that one,” Oskar says, more of a demand than anything as he points to the bottle of vodka.

Dusty looks over his shoulder to look at him. “You sure?”

Oskar sighs, frustrated, and lightly shoves Dusty to the side to reach the drawer and grabs the bottle of vodka. Oskar examines the top, silently wondering how to open it as he catches Dusty's concerned stare, which incites him to twist the top and use the counter below the drawer to crack open the drink. He takes a breath, and then he starts downing the drink.

He takes big gulps, closing his eyes as he endures how the liquid burns his throat.

“Oi, hey,” Dusty calls, worry lacing his tone as he reaches for the drink, but Oskar avoids his hands and turns away, stumbling a little as he continues to chug it down.

“Mate, hey, slow down—” Dusty warns again, but the blonde doesn't listen, doesn't even take a breath, and Dusty decides to press himself against Oskar's back and forcefully take it away, a spray of liquid falling down the blonde's face as the taller boy holds it high out of his grasp when Oskar tries to get it back.

Oskar attempts, feebly, to get the bottle back from Dusty, but he makes his way to the sink and dumps the rest of it out, ignoring Oskar’s protests about it. Dusty places the empty bottle next to the sink and turns around to eye the blonde with disbelief.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?” He asks, and Oskar gives him a watery-eyed glare in response. He looks between the empty bottle and the other drinks in the drawer, but as he goes to take another bottle, he gets stopped by Dusty's grip on his arm. “Os, you've had enough.”

“Fuck off,” Oskar complains, trying to free his arm. He's starting to feel his thoughts slow and the familiar panic it comes with, but it's making his brain slowly discard the pit and focus on the wooziness spreading in his veins.

Dusty hardens his grip and stares at Oskar for a few seconds, before pulling him towards the stairs, leading him up with a bit of difficulty since the blonde complains and whisper-shouts at him to let go the whole time, but Dusty still manages to get Oskar into his room.

Once the door to Dusty's room gets closed with both boys inside, Dusty sits Oskar down on his bed and looks down at him like he's insane. “Genuinely, what is up with you?”

Oskar's eyes harden, feeling them sting with unshed tears he blinks away as he pouts a little. “Nothing's up with me, you arse.”

Dusty's eyebrows twitch up, like he can't believe that Oskar would attempt a lie right after the display he made in the kitchen. He furrows his eyebrows down at the blonde. “You came over at like 2 AM and downed, like, more than half a bottle of vodka,” he points out, crossing his arms.

This display of sudden responsibility coming from Dusty sort of pisses Oskar off. “So?”

The taller boy scoffs. “'So?' he says,” he mocks. “The guy who supposedly hates drinking downing half a bottle of alcohol and nothing's wrong with him, sure.”

Oskar feels regret bubbling his stomach at Dusty's words, like they made his body suddenly remember that he chugged vodka and the need to throw up laps at his throat. He frowns, swallowing hard, and slurs, “fuck off,” and ignores the discomfort he feels because his mind would be quiet soon enough.

After a few moments of silence, Dusty huffs, “Os, mate, I'm worried about you,” like he's spelling it out for Oskar, like Oskar's an idiot. “This is worrying.”

Oskar snorts at that, swaying slightly from where he’s sitting near the edge of Dusty’s bed, feeling his thoughts come to a slow. “Since when do you worry?” He slurs, exhaling when the pit in his chest slowly gets discarded by his brain to focus on the new-found drowsiness and sluggishness the alcohol brought with it, which is just what he wanted.

Dusty sighs, his gaze still on Oskar, taking in the way his pupils have widened and how he has to steady himself with his arms to find balance. He uncrosses his arms and sits down next to Oskar, making the blonde smile at him all dopey-like.

“See?” Oskar says, the words dragging as he sways closer to Dusty. “‘verything’s good.”

Dusty turns to face him, looking at his friend with an expression that Oskar can’t decipher, only knowing that it makes his heart clench in his chest. The blonde bites his lip through a smile, holding Dusty’s gaze, proper drunk now.

“Oskar…” Dusty breathes out, sounding defeated as he pushes his hair up out of his face.

“Hm?”

Dusty shifts to the side, his body facing Oskar’s as he raises his hand to cradle the blonde’s jaw. He makes Oskar look at him properly as he observes him in a way that makes the blonde feel hazier. Dusty’s lips form a thin line as he stays quiet, just examining Oskar, and then he finally says, “your eyes are all puffy,” like he hadn’t noticed before.

Oskar just looks at him, dumb and unfocused. The proximity and with the way his head is swimming with the effects of the alcohol, he perceives Dusty’s eyes on him, the warm hand on his jaw, and the fuzzy feeling in his stomach as an invitation to close the distance between them, placing his lips on Dusty’s.

Dusty kisses back, like it’s a habit, before he grips Oskar’s shoulders to push him back a little and halt his movements. Oskar suddenly feels like he messed up, his body feeling cold and rigid, and even through the alcohol, he feels the way the pit in his chest makes itself known again.

“You’re drunk,” Dusty whispers weakly. “I don’t wanna kiss you when you’re fucked up.”

Oskar feels his breath leave his chest, like his lungs are getting squeezed. His eyes sting again, and the pit beats in his chest, like it’s alive, sending waves of self-loathing throughout his body. He shoves Dusty off of him, feeling dirty all of a sudden. “Fuck you,” Oskar finds himself saying a second time as he stands up. “You’re so—you’re so up-yourself, so fuckin’ self-righteous all of a sudden, acting like you have to take care of me—when I know how you are.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, really.

“Os—“ Dusty tries, getting up after him.

Oskar lifts his hands between them, stumbling back away from him, demanding distance. “Nah, you know what?” He slurs, glaring at him, unfocused. “You can go right to hell.”

Dusty’s face scrunched up in hurt, but he still takes a step forward, slow like Oskar’s a scared animal, and tries to touch him again, tries to coax him onto his bed. “Stay, Oskar. You can’t leave all drunk,” he says, trying to reason with him, but Oskar scoffs and shakes his head, feeling disoriented as he continues to back away towards the door.

“You can go right. To. Hell,” he repeats and then stumbles his way out of Dusty’s room. He barely makes it down the stairs without tripping over himself, but his need to escape gives him the stability necessary.

He swings the door open and walks out, forgetting his shoes. Tears are steadily flowing down his face as he struggles to breathe, his crying more intense and pronounced by how out of his mind he is.

He feels stupid.

---

Oskar makes it home after what feels like tedious hours of walking, weighing down on his limbs. He roughly opens his front door with his house-key he had somehow remembered to bring with him. He closes the door behind him and forgets to lock it, the feeling of growing nausea in his stomach taking priority in his head.

He stumbles to the bathroom, attempting to run and failing, and throws up in the toilet, emptying his stomach from the poison that helped him make a fool out of himself. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stays near the toilet for a while, gripping the seat as he sobs.

After his little pity party in the bathroom, he grabs onto the sink and props himself up, staggering as he makes his way to his bedroom. He has to lean against the wall as he walks, every step he takes makes the hallway spin around him.

Oskar enters his room and roughly pulls off his shirt, throwing it on the floor. He flops onto the bed, the fan propped up on the dresser still blowing strong hours later right where he lays his head over his pillow.

He clumsily wipes at his face, trying and failing to stop crying. He lays there, shivering slightly because of the fan as he struggles to even out his breathing.

Everything is foggy and painful. His head throbs, so he closes his eyes and tries to sleep, very carefully not thinking about not waking up tomorrow. He tells himself, in his head, that he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care at all.

[heartsforanya]

WHERE ARE ALL THE HEARTBREAK HIGH FICS?!?!? AND WHY ARE YALL DOING SPIDER THAT LITTLE BITCH.

MALAKAI??? QUINNI??? HELLO WHERE ARE THE FICS YALL GET WORKING

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko looked up and locked eyes with his cousin, who was struck speechless. Then, ever so slowly, Lu Ten's lips twitched upwards. And then he smiled. And then he beamed. And then he nodded proudly once, just once, and vanished.

Lu Ten comes back in For the Spirits Chapter VII: Take Me South, only to leave Zuko with more questions than answers. Just how much is he truly aware of? When will he return? What is Zuko going to do now?

(What will the South bring?)

[probably-writing-x]

All The Firsts

Summary: Heyyyy! So, could you write something about the reader being in her first relationship with spider (hbh) and her being worried about how she’s new at this? Or just something fluff about spider? Idk if this makes sense

Warnings: Mentions of sex / sexual acts, mentions of low self esteem / self depreciating thoughts, cursing

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s Note: Okay I loved writing this so much I’m sorry it ended up so long !! But plz let me know if you want a part 2 because I’ve got SO many ideas about reader navigating relationships etc. !!!!

Spider had a reputation. It was practically notorious. He was one of the Hartley boys that you were certain would never settle down. He made crude comments and bitter insults and there was no way he’d ever want a relationship. In fact, you were certain he’d never been with the same girl more than twice. That was just a rumour though. He’d spoken to girls for months, did all of that relationship stuff with them without it being a full relationship. Then he’d dated Missy. And that lasted a good few months, he even held her hand around school. He introduced her as his girlfriend, he cancelled plans to be with her. It was a proper relationship. But it ended after those few months. You were told that she ended it, but then Ant told you Spider had ended it, and Spider told you it was mutual. You didn’t ask again.

You and Spencer had been friends since the two of you were kids. Maybe friends was a stretch. You know that kid you’re just friends with because your Mums were inseparable? That kid you only saw because you could see his bedroom window from your own? He’d lived next to you since you’d been born and so you’d spent your baby years sharing baths and crawling around on the same baby mats, and then your toddler years stumbling around in the yard, learning to swim in the lake, learning to ride your bikes on the same street. Once you were both old enough to make your own decisions, that friendship had shifted. You two went into school together, but you didn’t interact much at school, and then you’d come back together too. He was in the popular group and you were far from it. You just didn’t have much in common anymore. Once he started driving, he’d drive you in every morning and make sure he got you home too. He never invited you to the popular people parties, and you never really saw him at weekends or anything, but he was always nice to you when you did see him. He’d smile at you if he passed you in the corridor but never say hi. In fact, you weren’t even sure if his friends knew your name, let alone that you’d seen Spider wet the bed when he’d had a sleepover at your house when the two of you were toddlers.

The older you grew up, the more you realised how different you and Spencer were. In fact, the more you realised how different you were to almost everyone else in your year at school. When that incest map got revealed, you were one of the names that wasn’t so much as mentioned. You’d looked at it too, searched for your name, even though you knew you wouldn’t find anything. Spider had a few lines drawn from his name then, but you knew it would be more if it was re-done now. And if they accounted for all the other people outside of school, there’d be even more.

“Spec? Are you good to go?”

Spencer cuts through your thoughts, snapping back to the reality of you being sat in the passenger seat of his car. He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other arm behind your seat ready to reverse from the parking space.

He never stopped calling you Spec. When you were younger you couldn’t say his name properly so ‘Spencer’ had morphed into ‘Spec’. And for some reason, a young Spencer had thought everyone had the same name. So you’d been Spec too. And it was still what both of you went by to each other now.

“I-“ You clear your throat, “Yeah.”

“Put your seatbelt on, your Mum would kill me,” He nods his head towards you, starting up the engine to reverse onto the street.

You oblige, clicking your seatbelt in and resting your head back against the chair, closing your eyes.

“Am I that unbearable?” He scoffs, indicating onto the road to the right.

“No, I’ve just got a headache,” You mumble, poking your eye open and glancing over at him, “You’re normally grumpy to be starting a school week again. What’s different?”

Spider shrugs, “I’m not at school yet, am I?”

“Fair point,” You hum, “How was your weekend?”

“I…” He stops to glance in the side mirror on your side of the car, indicating into the next lane, “I went to a party, got very pissed, and ended up arguing with Missy again.”

“About what this time?” You roll your eyes, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your feet on the seat.

“She’s my ex, we’re always going to argue,” He shrugs, “I don’t even remember what started it this time, you know what it’s like.”

You scoff. Not exactly. But you wouldn’t say that. You assumed that Spider knew you never had a boyfriend or anything, mainly because it would be impossible for him to not know. But part of you thought he just assumed you’d at least been with guys - had people over, met people out, went on a few dates even. You didn’t exactly have the heart to admit that none of that had ever happened.

“Oi,” He cuts through your overthinking once again, “Get your feet off my seats.”

———

Your school day is relatively uneventful. Ant tried to start a food fight in the lunch hall and ended up just covered in food himself before getting sent to Woodsy’s office. Spider had started a rambling in your English class about how love is a stupid concept and Missy made a bitter comment about how it was because he was incapable of admitting how he felt. You never really asked him much about that whole relationship. She seemed like a nice girl and he seemed happy when he was with her. But maybe she was right, you couldn’t really imagine Spencer ever being able to talk properly about how he felt - and even if he did feel something, it seemed likely that he’d just try to suppress it.

He’s waiting by his car when you get out of your final class, swinging his keys around his index finger. His legs are crossed one over the other, his blonde locks falling in a shadow over either side of his forehead. He’s wearing a baggy green t-shirt over a long sleeved white top and cargo trousers that seem to swallow his form. Spider’s a handsome boy, and it irritates you that he knows it.

“Are you staring at me Spec?” He’s looking directly at you when you make eye contact with him, a smirk on his lips.

“Oh grow up,” You roll your eyes, dropping your bag down from your shoulder.

“God, you’re insatiable,” He wiggles his brows, taking your bag from you and tossing it into the back seats of the car.

“What ar-“

“Do you have plans?”

“No,” You respond, walking around to the other side of the car, a little apprehensive for what was coming next.

“Fancy a swim?”

You don’t say no, and not a single part of you wants to say no either. You liked this side of Spencer. You saw it more when the two of you were younger. He’d knock on your door with his bike and tell you that you were going on an adventure. The two of you would end up in the woods together for hours until you knew it was getting dark enough to mean that curfew was coming. Sometimes, he’d stop to go into the shop and buy you both snacks with the small allowance he had. It was always a can of soda and a bag of salt and vinegar chips. Always both to share.

Spider winds down the windows on both sides and hands you over the aux cable to put your playlist on. That was one thing he was always sure about. You were quieter than him, less popular, had less exciting stories to tell, didn’t really get into trouble like he did, but when it came to your music taste you would always one up him. His playlist was made up of at least 70% of songs that you’d recommended him - normally these little unknown local rock bands that you’d seen at a show, or a song you’d heard a snippet of and sent him as soon as it was released. Every so often it would be old songs that your Dad had brought you up on. And every single time, Spencer had to reluctantly admit that it was a good song, and days later you’d hear it blaring from the speakers in his room, travelling all the way across to your house. You’d text him to turn it down and he’d flip you off at the window and tell you this was your fault anyway. So, yes, the music was always your call.

Spider’s driving for a half hour before you get to the lake, and he parks up just by the trees. Both of you get out and he leads the way through, moving branches out of the way so they don’t hit you. Once you reach the clearing, the pair of you are overlooking the still water, stretching out for what seemed like miles in every direction. There’s a wooden pier on the close side that Spencer walks out onto.

“It’s probably freezing,” You point out, grimacing at the thought.

“I know,” Spencer laughs, tugging off his shoes and pulling down his trousers.

“You can’t be serious,” You feel your cheeks heat up, turning away from him.

“What? You’ve come all this way and you’re not going to get in?”

“I’ll sit on the edge,” You shrug, looking towards the tree line to avoid him as he stripped in front of you so nonchalantly, “I don’t even have a swimsuit.”

“I’m wearing my boxers, I don’t bring swim shorts everywhere with me,” He scoffs, evidently recognising your distaste towards the idea of wearing your underwear in front of him, “You can put my t-shirt on over you. I don’t mind.”

“I-“ You pause, “Well I…”

“I won’t look Spec, I’m not a perv.”

He steps forward and hangs the t-shirt over one of the wooden posts of the pier closer to you, stepping back. You glance over your shoulder to see him running towards the water, diving into the lake as if he had no fear at all. The splash sprays up far enough to reach you, specks of cold water dotting over your shoulders. Spencer lets out a noise somewhere between a yell and a yelp - shaking his head at the temperature of the water as he kicks back to get further in. He turns around to face away from you and raises his hands in some sort of gesture of peace as if reassuring you he wouldn’t look.

You shake your head, mainly at yourself. What was the big deal? You were going swimming. It wasn’t exactly a big thing. You take off your shoes, fold your trousers on top of them, fold your tank top over those, and hang your jacket up on one of the other wooden posts. Spencer’s clothes were sprawled over the pier without a care in the world. You tug his t-shirt over your body and let it hang over your thighs, the short sleeves dropping down to your elbows.

Spencer turns around in the water, his arms waving through the surface to keep him afloat, “Perfect fit,” He laughs, “Come on, no excuse now.”

“After how you screamed when you got in?” You roll your eyes, “Sounds so tempting.”

“Oh fuck off,” He shakes his head, swimming over to the edge of the pier as you sit down on the end, letting your legs dangle into the water.

He reaches his arms up towards you and you hold onto his forearms as his hands grip your waist. His eyes search for yours for approval before he helps lower you down, watching your face contort and grimace as the cold starts to hit you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You shake your head as you fully hit the water, kicking your legs wildly beneath you as the water splashes over your shoulders.

Spencer laughs, his hands still on your waist, yours still gripping his arms tightly.

Your breath is shaky and you’re working a million miles a minute to catch up with it, looking into his laughing eyes as you get used to the temperature.

“Fucking hell, this was a stupid idea,” You grumble, finally seeming to relax.

“You’ll live,” Spencer rolls his eyes, swimming away from you and dunking his head under, curtains stuck flat against his temples when he comes back up.

You ease yourself into it, swimming a little further out to follow him.

Everything that Spider did, he just seemed to do so fearlessly. When he started his rants at school, when he said things nobody else did, he didn’t think about what the response would be, he just did it. When he started playing basketball, he was the worst one on the team and he still showed up every week. Now he was easily one of their best. Whenever you’d heard stories about him asking girls out, it was always him approaching them, asking the question and not being scared of the rejection. Though you weren’t sure anyone had ever outright rejected him yet. Maybe Amerie did, once, but you’d never asked him about that.

“So I heard something interesting at school today,” Spencer begins, turning around to face you.

“Go on.”

“You know that guy Malcolm?” He continues, a smirk tugging at his lips, “He did butt stuff with Suzie Cho.”

“Oh god, Spec, is there anything else you could’ve said to describe him?” You grimace, “Like literally anything else.”

“He did butt stuff with one of the Sarahs?” Spider shrugs, “Is that better?”

“Okay, okay, just carry on.”

“Well, apparently, Malcolm has a bit of a crush on you,” Spencer grins widely, “He was asking Ant who the chick is that I drive to school every morning.”

“Wh-“ You shake your head, “That’s probably not… I mean, he probably doesn’t like me, he might just want to know why you’re with me all the time.”

“Please, he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t interested,” Spider shakes his head, dots of water spraying from his hair, “So, do you want me to give him your number?”

“No!” You’re quick to respond, probably a bit too quick, “I mean, I don’t know, I barely know Malcolm.”

“What else is there to know? He likes butt stuff, he… okay yeah that’s pretty much all I know about him too, but he seems like an alright guy,” Spencer continues, “Why not give it a go? What’s stopping you?”

“I-“

Despite the cold, you can feel your cheeks heating up. Like you’re under pressure. And you’re not sure if your heart is racing in the cold or just because it’s trying to help your brain think of any response.

“Is there another guy?”

“No.”

“Are you batting for the other side?”

“Spec.”

“Valid question, no judgement here,” He raises his hands, “What then? You’ve not done butt stuff? Because seriously, there’s a first time for everything and I’m sure Malcolm’s into other stuff too or-“

“Spencer.”

He stops then.

“I haven’t…” You shake your head, “I don’t have any experience like that.”

He frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“Exactly what I said. I don’t have any experience. No relationships, no dates, I’ve never slept with a guy, I’ve not even fucking kissed a guy.”

“Wha-“ Spencer half-laughs, “Are you serious?”

“And this is why I didn’t tell you,” You roll your eyes, kicking your feet to swim away from him.

“No, wait, (Y/n)!”

You push yourself out of the water and back onto the pier, hurrying over to grab your things together. Your whole body is shivering now, the material of Spencer’s top clinging to you all over and itching at your cold skin.

“(Y/n) stop come on!” Spencer clambers out of the water behind you.

“Can we just go home, please? I shouldn’t have said anything and we should be getting back anyway and-“

“(Y/n), please,” His hand reaches out and grabs your forearm, “Just stop for a second.”

Spencer turns you around to face him, sighing as you finally seem to accept a bit of defeat.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” He says softly, sincerely, so much so that you believe him, “I just… Im surprised, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” You shrug, looking down at the wet patches on the floor to avoid his eyes, “That’s why I don’t talk about it. It’s weird. I’m seventeen and I’ve never done anything romantic with a guy, haven’t had any guy be interested, not even slightly. I’ve never,” You laugh nervously over your words, “I’ve never even had to reject a guy because they’ve not even been interested in me in the first place. So yeah, I guess you have every right to be surprised.”

“No, not like that,” Spencer shakes his head, ducking just slightly to try and meet your eyes, “I just mean… I don’t know what I mean.”

You look up to him, drawing your arms around yourself as if aiming to avoid the embarrassment as much as possible. Maybe if you did it for long enough you’d just disappear in front of him, he’d forget it ever happened.

“You’re not…” He stops himself, “There’s nothing wrong with you, (Y/n)… before you start thinking that, I mean. There’s nothing wrong with you not doing anything like that, you know.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t always feel that way.”

“Look at you, (Y/n). Any guy would be lucky.”

You roll your eyes, “Being nice doesn’t suit you, Spec.”

He outwardly laughs, “And she’s back.”

You smile at him faintly and a small fraction of the worry in him seems to ease. He just needed to see that at least a bit of you was back. He hated the idea of you hurting, and hated even more the idea of him being the one to hurt you. He’d meant what he said. Any guy would be lucky. And the thought of you not knowing that seemed to just repeat in his head. He’d known you since the two of you knew anything, and he’d grown up with you since then. Even when he was a cunt, when he was the most hated person in school, you were always there - waiting to go home with him, eventually waiting at his car for him to drive you home. He woke up in the mornings and looked for your bedroom curtains to be open just so he could see you. He’d wave or flip you off or try to mouth something you couldn’t understand. He even found himself checking late at night sometimes that your light had gone off so that he knew you weren’t staying up late worrying yourself over something. How would any guy not want a girl like you? Spencer hadn’t given it much thought until now. He’d just assumed other people saw what he saw - he’d never considered that they hadn’t been seeing you at all.

“Can we go home?”

Spencer nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

You both change, damply, back into your clothes, and walk back to his car. Spencer takes back his t-shirt and rings it out, throwing it into the trunk with his gym bag. You sit into the passenger seat and put your jacket beneath you to not make his seats wet. He climbs into the driver’s seat and starts going without a word. You don’t play any music this time, your mind already felt loud enough.

Within the hour, he’s parked back in front of his house and you unclip your seatbelt.

“Um,” You clear your throat, “You can give Malcolm my number… if he wants it I mean.”

Spencer looks at you and raises his brows, “Yeah, yeah, okay, if you want me to.”

“I just… I’ve never… I wouldn’t really know what…”

“Then I’ll help you,” He shrugs, “What are friends for, right? I can help you get ready for a date with him, at least.”

“Thanks Spec,” You nod, “Good night.”

“Night, (Y/n),” He says softly, watching as you get out of the car and walk the few steps towards your own house.

He sits there for a moment longer, letting you disappear before he makes any other movements. And, when he walks into his house, he smiles at the sight of the light on behind the curtains in your room, smiles even wider when he turns up his speakers to play a song you’d sent him last week. His phone pings with a text from you only moments later.

———

Malcolm asks you on a date for that Friday. You’d been speaking to him all week, like you’d actually been able to keep the conversation going for that entire week. He was funny, he was charming, he asked you questions about yourself, he was sweet. Spider had been asking you about how it was going every day, he tried to get more information out of you - what had Malcolm said? what had you responded? were you any good at flirting? had he been weird yet?

“Okay, so, it’s Friday, what’s the date plan?”

“I don’t know, Malcolm said he’d plan it,” You shrug, scrolling down your playlist to find a song.

“What?” Spencer exclaims, “You don’t know?”

“Yeah, is that weird? He just said he’d plan it.”

“No, no, it’s not weird,” He assures you, “I’m just surprised you’re so chill about not knowing what’s going on, normally you’d be stressed about things.”

“Well I’ve never been on a date before so there is no normally.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean Spec, you just get worried about things quickly and I thought this would be the same. But I’m glad you’re not. So, what are you going to wear for your hot date?”

“Ew I’m not talking about that with you.”

“Oh come on,” He laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing the way they always seems to do around you, “We’ve shared a bath together (Y/n), there’s no boundaries anymore.”

“For the last time we were like two when that happened! Stop bringing it up!”

———

Spencer drives you home that night and wishes you luck at least five times before you get out of the car. He tells you to text him as soon as you’re home.

You shower, get changed at least four times, do your makeup and then wipe some of it off when you think it looks like too much. And you’re sat on your bed ready a full ten minutes before he said he’d pick you up. You hadn’t heard from Malcolm for an hour or so, but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was getting ready too. You notice he’d read your last message, though, and think that texting him wouldn’t cause much harm, right? What’s the policy on these things? Should you let him know that you’re ready or would that be too eager? Should you maybe double check the time, or just make sure that he definitely knows your address?

Ugh.

Maybe dating was stressful.

You spend a full ten minutes debating over whether it’s a good idea to text. Nothing wrong with a text. And then you spend another ten minutes wondering what exactly you should write, only then realising this now meant that Malcolm was late and you still hadn’t heard from him. Now should you be worried.

Okay, fuck it, just send the text.

Hey, are you on your way?

He reads it almost instantly. Can’t be on his way then.

Sorry, (Y/n), I can’t do tonight. It’s complicated, sorry again.

You feel a lump form in your throat, a twisting in your stomach, a sickness that only came from this sort of gut wrenching moment. He’d cancelled on you. Did it even count as cancelling if you had to ask him first? He didn’t even give an explanation. Was he just hoping you wouldn’t ask? Was he hoping he could just pretend like he’d never asked you out in the first place?

You feel tears bubble in your eyes and instantly hate the idea of you being sensitive about this. Was it dramatic to be upset? No, you were upset. Not just because he’d cancelled, not just because he’d been shitty about it, not just because you were actually looking forward to your first date. But because it confirmed every worry you’d implanted in yourself about this whole thing. It confirmed every time you’d been nervous and panicked and stressed that these good things would never happened to you. It reminded you of every time one of your friends got asked out and you got swiftly ignored. It reminded you of every party you’d been told about where it sounded like everyone had got with someone there. And yet you were sat at home while it had happened, telling yourself that you didn’t like parties anyway.

And so you let yourself cry, the kind of cry that shakes your shoulders and lets mascara run down your cheeks. The cry that releases the tension in your chest and untwists the knot in your stomach.

—

Spencer didn’t want to text you whilst you were in your date. He’d told you to have a good time, he’d told you to text him if you needed anything. He should leave you to it. But your bedroom light was still on. You always turned it off before you left, it was ritual. In fact, you’d even hurry back inside to make sure it was off.

He hadn’t heard a car outside, either. Had Malcolm not picked you up?

He felt the worry spiral inside of him. Maybe he should just text. It would be easy, right? Just a quick text to make sure the date was going okay.

How’s the hot date going?

He stands at his window as if hoping to see no signs of movement on the other side. Please, God, tell me he hasn’t cancelled, he thought.

Does it count as a hot date if he doesn’t show up?

He feels his stomach drop, a pit forming at the thought of anyone thinking it would be a good idea to cancel on you. What was wrong with this boy?

Without a second thought, he’s running out of his room and practically tripping over his own feet to get down to the front door as soon as he can. He opens it at the same moment that you open yours, both of you stood across the driveway from each other. You’re still dressed in your outfit for the date, a blue sundress with tiny yellow flowers. Your makeup has been stripped off and it seems a million tears have ran down your cheeks and yet you still try to force yourself to smile at him when you see him.

“(Y/n),” Spencer practically sighs over the word, like he can’t think of anything right to say in the moment.

He crosses over the few metres between you and wraps his arms around you, holding you against his chest.

“He’s a fucking cunt, okay?” He mumbles into you, one hand holding your head and smoothing over your hair, “He’s a fucking asshole, this isn’t you, okay?”

You step away from him and wipe under your eyes, “I’m being stupid, I know. It was only a first date, I don’t know why I thought-“

“No, no, you’re not doing that,” Spider shakes his head, “This isn’t your fault. And you’re allowed to be upset. He’s a cunt. Do you understand me?”

You laugh a little, “Thanks, Spec.”

“I-“ He scans you as if he wants to check you’re okay, looking for signs that he’d made anything better, “Come on, come round and watch a film at mine. We can order food. I don’t want you to be on your own.”

“No, come on Spider, you don’t have to do that-“

“I don’t have to do it,” He interrupts, resting a hand on your back, “Come on.”

His hand remains there as the two of you walk over, barefoot on the concrete between the two houses. His Mum is downstairs when you walk in, watching something on the TV in the lounge.

“Spencer?” She looks over the back of the couch when he walks in, “What are you- Oh! (Y/n)! What are you doing here?”

“We’re just going to watch a film, Mum,” Spencer speaks through a clenched jaw.

“Oh I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!” She hops up from the sofa and hurries over, “You look pretty! I love this dress!”

“Oh, yeah, thank you,” You smile politely, glancing over to Spencer as if you’re not sure what to say.

“I’ll order us some pizza,” Spencer nods, his thumb brushing over the skin of your back before he lets his hand drop.

“Yeah, okay, yeah, I’ll have a-“

“I know.”

He smiles as he walks away, leaving you in the company of his mother. You’d known her all your life but that wasn’t to say you were her biggest fan. She’d always treated you like the daughter she never had. In fact, sometimes it seemed like she cared more about you than she did her own son. She repeatedly told your own Mum that she wished she’d had a daughter. You knew her and Spencer didn’t have the best relationship but he never spoke about it much. Whenever you’d seen him with her, he was always polite but you knew he’d argue with her at home. Sometimes you could hear them yelling from across the way and then you’d hear him return to his room and slam the door.

“I didn’t know you two were… hanging out,” She says suggestively, “Is there something me and your Mum should know?”

“Oh, no,” You half-laugh, shaking your head, “I just… No, I mean we’ve always been friends.”

“Oh of course you have, but I think you were half this height when you last came round to the house like this,” She chuckles, “Just be careful with him, you know what boys can be like.”

You’re thankful when Spencer rounds the corner back into the hallway.

“Pizza’s on the way,” He says, “Want to go upstairs?”

“Yeah,” You let out a sigh of relief through the word, “It was nice to see you Cait, I’m sure Mum will have you over soon.”

You follow Spencer’s steps up the stairs and into his room, where you’d once played games of Prince and Princess, or ones where you pretended to be soldiers or spies or superheroes. Where you’d once brought round your toys and swapped them with his. You can see your own window from the view through his just before he closes the curtains and it somehow eases a bit of the anxiety in your chest. He’d always been here.

———

The pizza arrives twenty minutes after and Spencer goes down to get it, leaving you sat on the edge of his bed in your dress. You felt overdressed and uncomfortable and it felt too tight on your skin when you thought about it too much.

“And dinner is served!” He smiles as he comes back into the room, “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” You look up and return his smile, “Any chance I could… I mean, do you have a… Can I borrow a top to wear?”

He laughs, “Yeah get pizza sauce down one of my tops instead of your dress,” He jokes, “Take whichever one, I won’t look.”

You flick through a few in his closet and then reach for one of the white ones, a graphic flower print on the back. A man of his word, Spencer faces the wall as you change, the dress pooling on the floor by your feet as you fit his t-shirt over your matching underwear set.

“Okay, done.”

He turns back around.

There was something about it. You in his clothes. Spencer felt like the blood had just rushed out of his head. Like his heart had forgotten to take a beat.

“Alright, I’ll find us a film to watch.”

He puts on Superbad and you both chat the whole way through it. He quotes it every so often because you were certain he’d seen this film more times than he could count. You both eat your pizza and he steals a slice of yours. He gets tomato sauce on his cheek and you laugh at him until he tells you to wipe it off. He tells you that he used to be scared of seeing a monster in his closet when he was a kid and he’d once tried to pull the doors off to stop them from being able to hide. You tell him you already knew that. You tell him that you wanted to be a vet when you were a kid and he reminds you that you once tried to do surgery on one of his teddy bears and ended up ripping the ear off. He still had that bear.

Eventually, the two of you are laying back on his bed watching the second film of the night. Your choice this time. 10 things I hate about you.

Somewhere in the progress of the night, Spencer found it impossible to take his eyes off of you. You were laying on the pillow next to him with your hand resting on your stomach with the other one down at the side beside him, your head angled towards him to see the screen. You laugh at something that one of them had said and he realises he hasn’t been paying attention to the entire thing. His hand falls down by his side and he feels it involuntarily inching just slightly closer to you. He felt like a kid again. His childhood crush in bed beside him and he felt like he had no idea of what move to make next.

And then it’s there. His fingertips brush against one of your hands. You flinch just slightly but you don’t pull away. And he laces his fingers with yours quickly before he overthinks it enough to regret it. You don’t pull away. You don’t want to. The contact seems to shoot a bolt of electricity through you, glancing to him to see him looking right back at you. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. His lips curl up into a small smile and he watches as you shuffle closer to him, his hand slipping out of yours to instead wrap around your back as your head rests on his chest, hair splaying. His heart is pounding underneath your head but neither of you say a word, both turning your focus back to the screen. He could feel the blood coursing through him, trying to relax into your touch despite how nervous he felt.

Had he always felt like this? Had he always been waiting on you? He couldn’t think. You’d just always been there. He looked forward to the mornings when he’d see you again. He looked forward to the end of the day when he’d go back to you. He looked to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you feel better, to keep you safe. And you’d always felt like you were something that nobody else could ruin. You were in his life from the moment he could remember and he couldn’t imagine being at a point in his life where you weren’t there.

When he looks back down to you, your breathing has steadied and your eyes have fluttered closed against him, fast asleep against the rise and fall of his chest.

He brings a hand up and brushes your hair away from your face, fingers delicate to not disturb you.

Oh god, was he in love?

———

You wake up early the following morning, Spencer asleep beneath you, your head still on his chest. The sunlight is spilling through from the slight gap between his curtains.

“Wh-“ You mumble to nobody but yourself, propping yourself up onto your elbow as if you’re trying to assess the situation.

Spencer groans and his arm tightens around you as if he instinctively wants to check that you’re still there.

“What time is it?” Spencer mumbles through tired lips, his eyes still shut.

“I-“ You clear your throat, “I don’t know. I should probably get back.”

You scramble to get off of the bed, looking around the room for your shoes and your dress as if this was a one night stand you wanted to escape.

“Woah, woah, woah,” He groans as he’s forcing himself to wake up, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have… and we shouldn’t… I don’t expect…”

“What are you talking about?” He half laughs, propping himself up on his elbows, blinking away from the sleep from his eyes to let you come into focus.

“I just… I don’t want you to think that I thought anything of last night,” You breathe out, “I totally get it, I was upset and you were being a good friend and-“

“(Y/n),” Spencer gets up from the bed and steps forward so that he’s standing directly in front of you, “I don’t think that.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, looking up at him like he wasn’t the boy you’d always known.

“What I do think…” He takes a breath this time as if he’s trying to suppress his own nerves, “Is that we had our first date last night.”

“First date?” You half laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks and that same bolt of electricity as his hand reaches out to lock with yours.

“Well, there was food, and a movie… two movies actually,” He points out, lifting up his other hand to brush your hair away from your face, “You even stayed the night. That sounds like almost a full date to me.”

“Almost?” You half-whisper, like you’re worried something’s going to ruin the moment, “What’s missing?”

“This.”

He shifts his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb shaping around your jaw to bring your lips to his, soft and yet somehow so certain of themselves. This was the first time anyone’s lips had been on yours, the first time you knew what it felt like to be kissed. And your heart seemed to soar at the idea of Spencer being the one to show you.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours like he is desperate to hold onto some contact, like he can’t imagine being apart from you.

“I-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “You…”

Spencer’s lips curl into a soft smile, “I’d say that’s a pretty good first date.”

———————

(Any of y’all want part 2????)

[starlightdelrey]

axe throwing - a.v + h.m

spoilers for heart break high season one and two !!!!!

anthony vaughn x harper mclean

request: hi !! could you do a sweet first date type fic for ant and harper ?? i dont really see a lot of love for them so far but I AM OBSESSED! I was thinking maybe they'd go axe throwing for a first date since harper mentioned she wanted to go. ant is lowkey scared he's going to get a limb cut off then overcompensates w the bravado just bc he can see how much she's enjoying herself. u dont have to do this at all obviously but it was just some thoughts i had popping up

in which two of the hartley kids finally get a moment of peace together (or ant thinks he's gonna lose his arm)

lowercase intended

hbh masterlist + main masterlist

cw: mentions of past trauma, mostly fluff, end of season 2, i basically made up my own timeline to make it work, ive never been to axe throwing so i made some stuff up, not proofread !!!!

---

the hartley high kids were stuck in a sort of limbo - since the school had burn down not even two weeks before the term break, the school board had decided everybody deserved an extended break to help 'unpack their trauma'. almost everyone thought it was a load of bullshit but couldn't fight having almost a month off school.

harper had been struggling, although she'd never admit it to anyone. it was unfair - every time she almost healed from one experience, a brand new one happened. darren had recently been going through a housewife phase, and in one cooking attempt, they'd accidentally set off the fire alarm. it caused the blonde to shut down for almost 24 hours, the experience of being locked in a smoke-filled projection room taking over her thoughts.

ant had accidentally been a lurker for quite a few of these mini events - like witnessing chook stare down harper at the housewarming party. when woodsy had called for harper and amerie during the fire, his whole body had been filled with a sense of dread (although he'd never tell harper how he'd fought to try and get to her).

the two decided to keep everything between them as light as possible, which had led to today's activity being set up.

harper dashed out of her shared home with darren and ca$h (their fake moans and tips for safe sex following her) and started up her borrowed car from robert.

when she drove up to ants place, he was sat outside, waiting already. harper couldn't fight the grin that stretched across her face as he wandered over to the passenger side. anthony had taken the concept of axe throwing and lumberjacks very seriously, and had dressed for the part - a plaid button up tossed, un-buttoned, over a cropped white tank top and a pair of baggy jeans.

he got in and immediately leant forward to kiss the blonde, and she pulled away with a smirk. "what's with the gay lumberjack cosplay?"

"i'm breaking lumberjack stereotypes, harps. be happy for me." but he glanced at her with a lazy grin and she shook her head, trying not to get distracted.

as they drove, ant insisted on being on aux. this meant that when spider called him, the audio was put on speaker.

"heya, spider."

"ant, you'll never-"

"hey spider!" harper piped up chirpily, and spiders whole demeanour over the phone changed.

"fuck off, harper."

"wait until i tell missy what you just said, dickhead. don't think i won't steal your girl." harper grinned as she said it, and ant turned to her quickly.

"hey!"

"you wish, harps."

---

"i actually don't think we need to throw axes," ant stood stiffly, his gloves shoved in his pocket and axe in one hand.

harper, who was in the middle of putting her safety glasses on, paused and stared. "what?"

"i just like- don't feel like losing an arm today. ya' know?" he looked at her hopefully, and harper raised a brow.

"don't worry, baby. i'll protect you."

the nickname flicked a switch in his mind, and immediately, ant was back to his usual antics. "no need, m'lady. i will be protecting you."

glasses on, harper turned to stick her tongue out at him - only to be met with the flash of a camera. "ew, ant. i look proper munted with these on. delete that."

he didn't respond, and to be fair, she didn't really care all that much anyways. the two walked forward with their safety gear fully on, prepared to let out some of their anger.

at first, they mess around a bit, until harper finally gets her axe to actually hit the target. from then on, it's a full-on war - they're making up mini competitions, tallying points, and getting into arguments.

halfway through, harper's got 12,368 points while ant has -12.

"we should totally turn our competition into a drinking game, harps. it would be so fun."

"and dangerous." harper braces herself and launches her axe at the target. "ant, we suck balls right now - imagine what it'd be like if everyone was drunk?"

"oh. ohhhhhhhh! yeah, i didn't even think of that."

"of course you didn't, babe."

ant grabs harper and yanks her closer to him, hugging her. some employee chides them for being dangerous.

"you're so pretty, harper." he's looking down at her, grinning, harpers cheeks are pink.

"you're not so bad yourself, anthony." her hand wraps around the back of his neck and pulls him closer.

---

"i cannot believe that we seriously got kicked out for making out!" harper exclaims in the car, pulling out of the parking lot.

"it was totally worth it." ant's still dazed, and he fumbles plugging his phone in.

it goes silent except for the frank ocean playing in the background, until ants phone buzzes with a notification. on instinct, harper's eyes flick to the screen - and her heart jolts.

his lock screen is a recent picture - one of harper, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. her tongues poking out and her hairs a little wild, but she looks happy.

"ant! is that the picture you just took of me?"

"of course it is. can't get it out of my head, it's seriously driving me crazy." he looks down at the picture, a slight blush on his face.

"you just wait until i get a new picture of you, vaughn."

---

[general-fanfiction]

Just Not Enough. (Spencer White x Reader)

Summary: Y/N isn't good enough until it's too late.

Word Count: 1.2k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Mature language, hint of suicide (maybe), allusions to cheating

A/N: Testing the waters with a short Spider fic, beware it's an angsty one. Would love to write some more for Heartbreak High so do send your requests!

“Y/N please, the building is on fire!” I hear Spider’s voice shouting at me from down the hallway, though I make no effort to stop. Marching as far away from him as I can, with no clear destination in mind. All I know is that I need to be away from him.

Throwing the classroom door open with more force than necessary, I flinch ever so slightly when it slams against the wall. Unaware of how much strength I had truly used until that moment. The footsteps behind me have fallen silent, though I’m acutely aware of the presence behind me. As much as I can pretend it isn’t there.

“Seriously Y/N, we need to leave! This isn’t safe!” Spider shouts once again, however his voice isn’t raised in anger, purely concern. I wish I couldn’t hear the worry in his voice but it’s something that just can’t be ignored.

Fixing my gaze out of the window, I focus on the row of classrooms on the other side of the quad. Staring at one of the doors so intensely, in the hopes that I can block everything out.

I can feel my heart pulsing at what feels like one million miles per hour, my breaths quick and shaky, hands trembling despite how tight I’m clenching my fists in a futile attempt to calm myself down. The pain inside of me feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. As though the bottle inside of me has finally burst, shattering into thousands of pieces and flooding my body with all the anguish and hurt I had so carefully tucked away.

“Y/N come on we need-” 

“Why am I always your second option?”

Before I can stop myself, I’m interrupting the boy. Spinning around to face him so quickly that I almost trip over my own feet. My eyebrows are raised as I glare up at him, waiting anxiously for him to answer the question. Knowing that whatever he says next could make or break me. I can tell he wasn’t anticipating the question, face displaying his evident guilt and a hint of confusion. Eyes unable to reach mine.

“You’re not, that’s not-”

“Why am I not good enough?”

 Despite my best efforts, the muscles around my mouth tug the corners of my lips down, forcing a frown. With that, the dam bursts, tears seep out of my eyes silently as I hurry to wipe them away with the back of my hand. Not wanting to show Spider just how much he’s hurting me. 

Cautiously the boy takes a step towards me, as though testing the water as to how close he can get before I snap. His perfectly ironed suit is now slightly disheveled from all the sprinting through the hallways, and yet the worst part is that he still manages to make it look good. It’s infuriating.

“I told you not to get too close to me.” Spider sighs, his hand hesitantly reaching out to grab mine. As our fingers brush against one another, I shake my head. A new wave of rage washes over me.

“Nah, don’t do that.” I state, swiftly pulling my hand away from his. “Don’t play the bad guy card because that isn’t you. I know you, I know you’re better than that.”

“From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” Spider states running a hand through his blonde locks, tugging at them slightly out of frustration. “You’re so innocent and pure, Y/N you’re an angel. You’re too good for this world.”

Spider brushes his knuckles against my cheek. The cold of his rings a stark contrast to the flaming heat radiating from my cheeks. His thumb gently wipes away the tears that continue to fall and for a moment I forget everything that has happened.

“I wish I could be a better person.”

It’s those eight little words that break me from his trance. My eyes locking with his as a scowl sets on my face. Giving the boy no time to react, I use everything in me to shove him backwards, sending him sprawling to the floor. Yanking the material of my dress up I straddle his stomach, sending punch after punch to his chest and face.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Repeating the phrase over and over again, I find myself getting so caught up in my emotions that my actions become weaker, allowing Spider to catch my wrists in his hands. Holding them so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if bruises formed.

My body collapses, falling into a heap beside the much taller boy. His hands still hold my wrists, as I let out pained wails. Unable to stop myself from breaking down. Gripping the pink fabric of his shirt, my fingers turn white at how hard I’m clutching on to him. I shouldn’t allow myself to be in his embrace. The person who caused me this pain, shouldn’t be the one comforting me and yet here he is. He’s not a bad person, no matter how much he pretends to be. I just know it.

“I wish that I never met you.” I bawled, feeling the headache beginning to radiate through my head due to how hard I am crying.

“You should have walked away when you had the chance.” Spider whispers, before pressing a delicate kiss to the top of my head, allowing me to sob into his shirt.

The overwhelming stench on smoke begins to grow stronger, accompanied by the sounds of sirens outside. Yet, I’m too tired to move. Worn out from the events of tonight and the emotional distress that I have endured.

“You mean everything to me, but I was only something to you.” I croak out, watching the smoke slowly creep underneath the door. There’s something so beautiful in the way it rises and I can’t take my eyes off it.

“I do care about you Y/N.” 

“Just not enough.”

The images of her in his arms flash through my mind. How he kissed her so gently, how he held her the way he is holding me now. How she isn’t kept a secret. How she is the first choice. She’s always been the first choice.

I can feel myself struggling to breathe, eyes barely keeping themselves open. Flashing lights illuminate the room from outside, making Spider look angelic. His features are so soft under the bright lights. 

“The fire brigade is here, Y/N, we have to get out.” 

Spider’s words cause me to glance up at him, cupping his face with the palm of my hand. My breathing is shallow and my touch light. His arms hold me tighter and I notice his eyes are watering as I gaze up at him.

“Is it okay if I give up?”

“What? Give up what? Y/N?” Spider’s voice is panicked and all I can bring myself to do is press a gentle kiss to his lips as I allow myself to shut my eyes.

“Y/N, Y/N. No, come on, I’ll get you out of here I promise.” 

As I begin to drift out of consciousness, I can feel Spider doing his best to haul me up and drag me out of the burning school. “Wake up! Y/N please, I’m begging you, wake up! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything, please, just wake up.”

[moralina]

When Spider tries to protect you

Spencer "spider" white x reader

A/n: AH this is my introduction to the heartbreak high fandom! It's not a lot, but it's something <3

he said he was trying to defend your honor

“what honor?” you had asked in a condescending tone

truth be told, said honor had been thrown out the window the moment the incest map had been discovered

“we’re not even friends, and i wasn’t asking for your protection” you rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless

it was a timid, almost unoticible smile

but spider noticed

he just shrugged

“you’re bleeding.” you pointed to his nose “does it hurt?” 

instinctively you reached your right hand to inspect the damage

and as soon as the tip of your finger touched his nose he quickly swatted your hand away

“you’re gonna make it worse.” 

“well, can’t just stay with your nose like that”

“do you know first aid?”

“not exactly” you thought for a moment before finishing with “but i love hospital shows.”

the blank stare he gave you was almost comical

and you wanted to laugh

but you held it in because you had already smiled too much in spencer’s presence

“Then no.”

Let’s just say it took you long minutes of trying to convince him to let you inspect it

until you gave up and dragged him to the nurse room

when you got there she made ton of questions and you lied about all of them

You just wanted to forget what really happened

your boyfriend - and now ex - had called you a slut for cheating on him with his brother

but it wasn’t true

and you told him multiple times

multiple times

but apparently, in his opinion, the incest map was a more reliable font than you were

and when he called you that in front of all his friends on the gymnasium, just because you were chatting with spider - about some math sheet you were supposed to do with him - during his break, you wanted to cry

and spencer became extremely aware of it

apparently he was very aware of you, you just didn't know

so he did what he did

and yeah

you didn't ask for help

but you appreciated it

and he knows, even if you won't say it out loud

A/n: Thank you for the people that answered a post i did a while ago about Australian slang, but i was kinda scared of using it wrong and make it weird 😭 anyway, it'd help a lot if you guys liked and rebloged! Love you all and this dead fandom <3 (WE NEED MORE FICS)

[edwinas]

what gets me is that amerie and malakai were never given a chance. first malakai is being secretive and amerie spirals so they break up, then malakai immediately dates someone else leaving amerie heartbroken, they either don't talk or fight, then malakai tries to kiss amerie but she stops him, amerie starts getting feelings for someone else, malakai fucking leave for switzerland and writes amerie a love letter that burns in the school fire.

the saddest part is that amerie and malakai love each other but never confessed..... they never stopped being in love.