#i was too lazy to continue but after that they ask Michele if he wants to stay for dinner ☺️

[rancidpancakebatter]

We Write the Story-[P.P.] | Chapter Two

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x (Black!)Hispanic!College!Female!Reader

Chapter Summary:  The battle at Liberty begins after a trail down memory lane

Takes place during No Way Home

Word Count: 5.5k words

Content: Some superhero fighting, angst, language, mentions of death,

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A/N: This is yet another thing I found in my drafts. Chapter three has one paragraph written but two is done, so yay! As I said in the first chapter, this is very self-indulgent. I tried to put more focus on the reader being Hispanic than black but both are pretty relevant to my experience so there are some minor details that allude to the reader being black. I'm too lazy to edit them out. I hope you can understand.

Your anxiety continued a slow accent as the Spider-Men discussed their game plan. You were put on “babysitting duty,” instructed to watch over Michelle and Ned as they climbed through the portal to fight interdimensional villains. 

You watched Peter’s live and felt a twinge of moroseness at his words. Even now, as he was trying to save New York, he accepted the cruelty it threw his way. The chemistry lab was quiet. You had all pulled up chairs at the entrance of the portal, silently watching- waiting. You had hugged Petey before he walked out, but it didn’t calm you as much as you had hoped. As you sat on this unstable wooden stool, your mind wandered to the past.

You remember when Petey first moved in. You were playing in the living room, your wooden puppet jumping as you jerked at the strings. Your father was in the kitchen, the smell of toasted tortillas and seasoned chicken wafting through the air. You liked flautas, but you preferred when your mom would make them. Your father was less familiar with the seasoning your mother would use; he stuck more to his Creole roots. 

There was a knock at the door, but you remained unbothered. You and Señor Payaso were on a fabulous adventure, that you didn’t want to interrupt. They knocked again, and this time your father called out to you.

“Can you see who’s at the door, baby?”

You begrudgingly got up and pulled a chair over to the door. As you peeked through the peephole, you saw a familiar face, the sweet woman from across the hall. You liked her a lot. She always complimented your hair and all of your drawings. She was friends with your mother; when she died, the woman came over and cooked a lot, bringing her husband along. Mr Ben was nice too. He would put you on his shoulders and twirl you around.

You moved the chair and called out to your father, “It’s Ms May!”

You opened the door and let her in. She complimented your dress and asked about your day. You told her all about your new colouring book and left to get it for her. When you returned, she was talking in hushed whispers with your dad. Their faces looked serious and sad, but when they saw you, they painted on a smile. 

Your father beckoned you, and you happily clambered into his open arms. As he rested you on his hip, he moved some hair out of your face.

“Hey, honey. So, Ms May came over to ask if you would want to play with her nephew. He just moved in and he doesn’t have any friends.”

You looked at May, not fully understanding. “Why does he live with you? Where are his parents?”

Your father said your name in a warning tone and you were confused, but Ms May cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay.”

Her smile was kind and you loved when she smiled at you.

“He lost both of his parents, like how you lost your mom." She explains. "So now he lives with me. He’s very scared, and I was hoping maybe you could hang out with him. You were so brave and it might be nice for Peter to have someone he can talk to about all of this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You couldn’t imagine what you would have done if you had lost both of your parents. You missed your mom a lot; Peter must be feeling that double. You liked Mr and Mrs Parker a lot, so you supposed you would like their nephew too.

“Okay." You agreed, "Does he have a favourite toy? Does he like to colour?”

May told you he would love to colour with you, so you rushed back to your room and grabbed all of your colouring books and three boxes of crayons, just in case. When you returned to the living room, you declared that you were ready to go. You walked across the hall with your father’s hand on your back instead of in your hand as they were very full.

As you walked in, you looked around but only saw Mr Ben. He spoke to the adults while you sat on the couch. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but you caught some of it. Their whispers swirled together and you couldn't tell who said what.

“-in his room”

“I don’t know”

“Thanks”

“He’s just so young”

Your stomach twisted. You remember hearing similar things said about you not so long ago. You hated when the adults around you tried to relate to what you were feeling. You didn’t even understand what you were feeling. You didn’t care what they had to say; you just wanted your mom. There was no one your age to talk to. No friends who got it. You didn’t want Ms May���s nephew to go through that.

You made your way up the stairs, deciding you would find him yourself. You saw an open door and peeked inside. There was a small bed and a lot of boxes in the room. It looked half-unpacked, not really a “room”. 

“Hello?” You tried.

There was a scuffling sound but no response. 

You walked in and looked around, “Are you Ms May’s nephew?”

You were looking at your feet, careful not to step on anything, when you noticed a pair of eyes under the bed. You set your colouring stuff down and lay on your stomach. He shimmied back some. 

“Hi, I’m (Y/n). I’m your neighbour, do you want to play?” He didn't respond, just continued to stare at you. 

“Tu hablas español?” Still he said nothing. 

“Okay…I’ll just speak both.” You muttered, setting up the colouring supplies. 

“Tengo crayons y colouring books, pero si quieres jugar something else podemos.” You began to colour, leaving a stack for him to choose from and the other boxes of crayons at the entrance of the bed.

You silently coloured for a while before you saw a small hand reach forward. He remained under the bed as you heard him flipping through pages. Soon enough, the adults came through the door. They were each surprised by what they saw. 

“Where’s Peter?” Mr Ben asked. 

You pointed under the bed, continuing to draw. 

Ms May laid next to you, “Come on, Peter. Why don’t you come out and play? (Y/n)’s really nice, I promise.”

You shook your head, speaking to the shadows. “No tienes que salir if you don’t want to.” 

Ms May looked at you with a question on her brow, one you recognised on adults by now. The "Why are you speaking Spanish?" look. Sometimes it was because you didn't look like your mom, and sometimes it was because they didn't know what you were saying. But you knew her's wasn't mean; Ms May was just curious.  

“He hasn’t answered to Spanish or English. I don’t know what he speaks,” You replied with a shrug. 

Mr Ben chuckled, “He doesn’t speak Spanish. I think he’s just shy, but thank you for trying.”

They eventually left you be, and you continued to colour. Peter still hadn’t left his hiding spot, but you could hear him scribbling across the page. 

“I lost my mom,” You say in an effort to connect. “She got really sick, it happened a few months ago.”

He had stopped colouring, the only sound in the room coming from you and the switching of crayons.

“Grown-ups try to say stuff they think is nice. They tell you they’re sorry. Or they’ll say something like ‘you’re brave’. It’s annoying. I used to hide too.”

You heard him shuffle. He had crawled forward just enough that you could see his face emerging from the shadows, “Do you wanna come in?”

You wriggled in next to him, and he pushed the book he was working on between you. You coloured on opposite pages sharing a box of crayons between you. He used a lot of outlandish colours, his giraffe looking more like an alien than anything you’d seen at the zoo. You focused on your parrot. You passed a lot of time this way.

“How you say, ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

You were excited to hear his voice again, “Gracias.”

“Gracias, (Y/n)”

He was so small and so scared. Everything he knew had been ripped away from him. You couldn’t help but think he was going through the same thing, only this time he couldn’t hide under his bed. He had to save the world.

You thought of all the times Petey had to be brave. You thought of all the times he didn’t. Like when you watched a horror movie for the first time, and he made you stay up with him all night because he was convinced that something was gonna come out of the closet as soon as he closed his eyes.

You thought of how nervous he was to ask Liz to the homecoming dance- how you had to coach him through it. You thought of how he would trip over himself anytime he talked to her. You thought of how he was just as nervous about asking out MJ. He would text you the whole trip about it (and also some of the Spider-Man stuff, but mostly MJ).

You thought about how kind and sweet he was. An absolute treasure. Petey would speak to you in Spanish if you were alone, knowing that it was a special thing to you, something that kept you connected to your mother. He had learned it through you, but also by studying on his own, surprising you every now and then with all he knew. 

You thought about how he had learned to do simple braids in your hair. You had complained about how long it would take to do, and Petey stayed up all night watching youtube tutorials and practising on May. The next day he showed up with a rat-tail comb and a bag of rubber bands, ready to help.

You thought about how he and May would practice making dishes that you grew up with to surprise you for “family” dinner.

Actually, no. Family dinner. No quotes necessary. They were your family. They were all you had, and they were wonderful.

They were your family. Now it’s just Petey. Petey who is currently broadcasting his location so that he can fight a bunch of psychos who would not hesitate to kill him. 

You stand abruptly, surprising the not-so-much kids beside you. You rush through the portal and ignore their calls for you to return. You can’t, not now. The Spider-Men hear the commotion and quickly group together. As you turn the corner, Petey’s face is wild with concern.

“(Y/n), You can’t be here-” 

You cut him off with a hug. You pull him as close as you can, and don’t hesitate you crush him with all of your strength. He lets out a small “oof” as you accidentally push all the air out of his body. Tears silently fall from your eyes, and Petey finally reciprocates. 

“(Y/n), You have to go back. It’s not safe.”

You make no effort to distance yourself, instead mumbling into his chest. “Don’t die.”

Petey pulls you away enough to see your face, “I’m not gonna die.”

Your face twists in anger but he knows it’s not for him. “You will come back to me. In one piece. Or so help me god, these a-holes are gonna wish you had kicked their ass instead.”

A small smile spreads on his face, “I know. I will. No voy a ir a ninguna parte, lo prometo.”

You wipe at your face and Petey chuckles. He’s trying to cheer you up. Even now, Petey is trying to keep you happy, like always.

“Besides, todo el mundo sabe que tengo la hermana más aterradora que hay. Cualquiera que se cruce contigo sería un pinche supido hijo de puta.” It wasn’t perfect but you grasped the message.

You gasped in faux horror, “Aye Petey, Quién te enseñó eso?”

Peter only laughed, “You did. You curse more in Spanish than in English. Which is crazy 'cause you have the foulest language I’ve ever heard.”

You slap his arm, and he pretends it hurt. You glance around and lose your breath. You could see all of New York from here. The city glistened against the deep ocean, the lights dancing across the rolling waves. It was breathtaking. Movement over to your left catches your attention and your eyes landed on Peter. He was leaning against the railing with his arms stretched out while talking to Pete. When you looked, he quickly turned his head, but he was looking at you. Petey chuckled, breaking you from your trance. Man, maybe your attraction was obvious. 

“I’ll send him over,” Petey says with a smirk.

You scold, telling him not to, but he was already shouting for Peter.

As he sauntered up, Petey sent you a wink, patting his multiversal counterpart on the shoulder as he passed. Peter looked at you with a playfully confused look. His brows were slightly furrowed but his grin was unmistakable.

“So, what’s up?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He was so flippant about this whole multiversal mayhem. But also he made you a little nervous, and you were laughing through your flustering. 

“Oh, I was just uh- you know...givin’ the whole ‘Don’t Die’ speech before battle. You know how it is.” Peter’s face fell a little sombre, giving you the impression he knew all too well.

He played along, not wanting to address the severity of the situation. You both knew; there was no reason to loll in it. He nodded his head a few times before his arms folded crossed his chest and his head tilted to the side, a soft smile taking over his face.

“So, do I get one?”

You smiled, “Peter Parker. I will be very upset if you die. Don’t do it or I’ll come kill you myself.”

He chuckled, the sound of a sweet song. “Sounds like a lose-lose, I don’t think I’m getting a fair deal.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah? Well, how about this: If you die, no date.”

It was risky, but what did you have to lose? Pete’s words had been on your mind more than you would care to admit. Everything you once knew had been flipped on its head. Maybe there was a chance, maybe he was the right one. But did it matter? It’s completely possible that this man will evaporate from this world in an hour. What harm was there in flirting with him? He was nice with a kind smile, and it felt good to be looked at like that. Like you were something to behold.

Your words seem to surprise him. A deep, thunderous laugh ripped from his chest. It was a delightful sound. One you wanted to hear more often. His hand flew to his heart as he took a step back as if blown away. He looked at you with an amused glimmer in his eye and a grin that split his face. He was the perfect embodiment of "boyish charm."

“Now, the stakes are high,” He teased.

It’s safe to say you were freaking out. You stood at the mouth of the portal, its fizzling crackle a static that you had become accustomed to. MJ held the magic-cube-thing as you tried to keep the both of them calm, coaching Ned to breathe deep and focus. You could hear the zaps of electricity flying through the air, bright flashes of light shocking out the shadows in the dark room. Everything got cloudy for a moment, and you recognised this dust storm as Flint’s arrival. Everyone was showing up fast, and you should have been miles away, but with the portal open, you were nowhere close to safe. 

A loud crash echos out and startles a scream out of the kids. You gently shush them, not wanting any unwanted attention. You were working through a plan, an escape route. You loved Petey, but he wasn’t very good with backup plans, and this was a perfect example.

You heard heavy steps and spun to look through the Portal. The talking lizard was stalking towards you.

“Hey! Hey! We gotta go!”

The kids follow your gaze and their eyes widen in fear. You grab the box from MJ and start pushing them in front of you. The Lizard has landed in the room and is throwing tables and chairs.

You make it to the doors and point down the hall, “You guys run to the cafeteria, watch each other’s backs and hide!”

They hesitantly run, glancing at you periodically over their shoulders. You look behind you, and the lizard is trained on your hand. You wave the box, “Come on, big boy, this way!”

He rears his head back and lets out a gut-wrenching roar. You push through the door and into the hall. Your footsteps echo in the dark, empty corridors. You hadn’t necessarily liked high school, but the dreadful memories did nothing to relieve the creepy atmosphere. You could hear his talons cut into the metal lockers around you as he got closer. You whipped your head around to confirm your suspicions. You felt nauseous as you saw his yellowed teeth bared at you.

You swung a sharp left into the library. You ducked under a table and crawled quietly in the dark. As the creature broke through the doors you heard him stop. You could hear a subtle growl leave his throat, sharp breaths as he sniffs around the room. You reach the wall and grab a book off the shelf. You can see his feet as he walks across the floor. Your heart is beating in your chest as he gets closer. His tail swings in front of you, working side to side. You take a steady breath and throw the book into the corner behind you.

He roars and charges at the sound. You make a break towards the lined shelves while he’s distracted. You silently hoped the books you heard being decimated would accept your apology, that they would understand. There’s a door on the other side, it will put you in the hallway right across from the gym. You didn’t like the idea of a big open space, but maybe you could hide if you could make it to the bleachers. It’s the best idea you have right now.

The Lizard had begun throwing the tables you were hiding under before. It wouldn’t be long until he started destroying the shelves too. You crouched down and made your way to the door, pushing it open with shaky hands and closing it as softly as you could. You entered the gym and looked around. You spotted the supply room and tried the handle.

It was locked, “shit!”

You could still hear the library being ransacked. Your only way in was to break the window. You knew it would make a lot of noise, but you had to arm yourself with something. You raise the box and bring it down as hard as you can. The glass shatters and you hear a roar erupt in the building. You ball your hand up in your sleeve and push through the glass wiggling the handle. You grab a bat by the door and a football flag that was hanging on the wall. You hear stomping in the hallway and panic. Well- more so than you were before.

The bleachers were pulled out and you thanked whatever deity might have been watching over you. You find a gap in the bars and squeeze your way through. Just then The lizard kicks in the heavy metal doors. You fall back into the shadows and watch through the space between the seats as he makes his way to the middle of the floor. You try to tame your shaking hands, knowing there was nothing you could do with the adrenaline coursing through your body.

You place the bat between your legs and tie the box to a belt loop on the back of your jeans, that way you can have two hands to swing. You tried to remember everything you knew about the creature in front of you, anything that may give you an upper hand. You remembered him talking about “healing the world.” Apparently, this “enhancement” mutated his genes and he had faster healing and was super strong. He was also a man-eating lizard. And you were just a poor college student from Queens.

Suddenly he stopped, his head turned towards you as he continued to sniff the air around him. A sneer besmeared his face, his eyes opened and it seemed he was looking right at you.

“There you are...” his nauseating voice drew out.

He charged forward and you screamed. His claws reached through the slits and pried at them. He got his arm through and swiped; you fell back as you narrowly dodged them. He continued with that for a while before he abandoned the approach. His yellow eyes glared at you through the gap he had created before growling. He must have grown up watching Dora too. If you can’t go through, you can't go above it, if you can’t go under it, you have to go around it. He backed away and bounded towards the bars you had slipped through. You ran to meet him there, to hopefully hold him off.

He reached his hand through and you swung at it. It didn’t seem to deter him. The response was more like someone playfully pushing your hand away from their plate, as opposed to a twenty-something swinging a metal bat at full force. He reached for you again but this time he caught your bat in his claws. It shredded the barrel, the metal blossoming out at jagged angles. You could work with that.

You brought it over your head and aimed at his arm. He reared back as the metal cut through his scales. You could hear the fury in his scream, your blood ran cold at the sound. You watched as the flesh slowly melded back together, soon the damage was erased. It hit you then, you were truly no match. He brought his hand back up and sliced through the barrier of bars, bending them with little effort to push through. You took steps back as he got closer. He was hunched down, unable to stand in this space. You were trapped if you couldn’t find a way out.

At the other entrance, you saw a fire extinguisher. You rushed to grab it, pulling the pin and aiming it directly at him. You felt the metal bars against your back. He let out another roar and you pulled on the trigger. Foam flew through the air and the smell of compressed CO2 made you dizzy. You threw it and he caught it in his mouth, as his teeth punctured it white plumes billowed from the canister. While he was blinded you tried to squeeze through the bars. In his thrashing, he caught you on the arm. His claws felt like a blade, cutting through you easily.

You cried out as you collapsed on the floor. Rolling over, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain in your bicep. Your bat was long gone and you were on your own. You made your way to the middle of the gym, trying to plan your next escape. You heard the grating noise you hate to say you knew, he had slashed through the other set of bars. You sympathised with the groan the metal released as it was bent and twisted against its will.

His horrid eyes fell on you again and you turned to run. He gets down on all fours and breaks into a sprint, he's gaining on you (Shia Leboeuf). Your body hurts and all this running is pumping blood, you’re getting woozy from the loss. You trip and hit the ground hard; you feel disoriented. You start crawling forward, hoping to put enough distance between you.

Just then a loud crash rings through the gymnasium. You turn your head to see The Lizard slammed into the bleachers, the seats folding around him under the weight. Something flew across the room and soon a cloud of green smoke enveloped the space. You heard footfall quickly approaching you and curled in on yourself; your brain unable to catch up with the chaos of the situation.

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me.” His gloves caught on the cotton of your ribbed top.

You slowly opened your eyes and they fell upon shining stars; chocolate and autumn leaves and everything sweet in the world. His jaw was set, strong enough to cut diamonds. His lips looked velvety and decadent; though they sagged heavily at the end, his distress evident in his frown.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? I smell blood.” He quickly questioned.

You motioned that you wanted help up, but instead of offering you his hand, he scooped you up in his arms. Your stomach fluttered at the act, the gentleness he was showing you. You were pressed tightly against him, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

You took a shaky, flustered breath. “I’m fine. El cabrón caught me in the arm, but I’ll be okay.”

He took notice of the way you were holding your arm and shifted you to take a better look. He curled you like he was using you to train his biceps, pushing your chest into his. His eyes grew as he looked over your wound. 

“It’s okay. You’re- you’re gonna be okay.” He reassured.

He was breathing heavily. You thought before that it was from exertion, but the panic in his eyes was one you recognised.

“Yeah, I know.”

Your words fell on deaf ears as he continued to mumble; repeating that you would be fine like he was trying to manifest it in truth.

"Peter, Hey. Listen to me, I’m okay.”

He shook his head, breaking his trance, and then finally looked back at you. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You met everyone out on the scaffolding; Lady Liberty had seen better days. Peter had finally set you down, and he had used your mangled sleeve to wrap around your cut. As you stepped through the portal it closed behind you. You glared at the spot it used to occupy.

“Por qué no hiciste eso antes, huh?”

You heard your name called out from behind you and as you tuned you were knocked back by the strength of your two-out-of-three of your favourite teens. You held them close, happy to be in their embrace- relieved that they were safe. They talked over each other, spewing their concern and everything that had happened while you were separated. As Ned spoke he flailed his hands, sparks flew from his fingers and with a flourish of his wrist he accidentally opened a portal.

You threw the kids behind you, waiting for whatever may emerge. To your surprise, Dr Strange stepped forward. He whipped his hand and the box flew from your waist. You all protested: a series of ‘wait’s and ‘no’s leaving your mouths.

“Where is he?”

“Before you do anything Mister- Dr Strange, sir,” Ned pleads. “Peter’s plan is working!”

You all nod adamantly as he eyes your group sceptically, “What plan?”

“He’s curing them!” Ned explains, pride dripping from his words.

You pointed to the corner. There sat an older man who looked a little ridiculous dressed in some gym shorts and a mesh, orange jersey for flag football. Strange stepped forward to get a better look.

“Who’s that?” He asks, his tone losing its previous hostility.

“That’s Dr Connors, the giant lizard,” MJ supplies as the man in question gives a tentative wave.

The wizard looks between the reformed man and your odd group a few times before he slowly nods his head, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

He walks off and you grow nervous. You hope he can see the vision, that he lets Petey do this. He’s sacrificed so much, It would be a shame to see his victory ripped away from him. You watch as the three of them swing around, their synchronization mesmerizing to you. It was almost beautiful. If not also death-defying and frightening.

But the little fear you felt grew tenfold, at an exponential rate. Over the horizon, you saw a flying figure approaching. Your blood ran cold and you can’t help the way your body starts to tremble.

You quickly turn to Ned, “Can you open a portal?”

He looks at you confused, his anxiety rising as he tries to understand why you’re upset. “No, Dr Strange took the ring back.”

You silently curse the old man and spin around, trying to find somewhere to run, when his nauseating voice rings through the sky, “Can the Spider-Man come out to play?!”

You freeze. His haunting cadence fills your ears, and you don’t know what to do. You think of his freakish, twisted smile as he gave his “We are gods” monologue. You could hear his sickening cackle as Peter beat in his face. You heard his taunting drawl as he choked Peter. You thought of how he had killed Ms May. The only mother you truly knew. You wondered if she was as scared as you were in her final moments. You couldn’t breathe; you couldn’t move. Completely frozen in fear.

You could vaguely hear Ned and MJ calling out to you, but the world was too far away from you now. It felt like your skin was melting off of you and your brain was spinning in your skull. He couldn’t be here. Petey couldn’t be here. He was dangerous. He wasn’t like the others, his only objective was wreaking havoc, and he had no remorse for the pain and suffering he dealt.

A loud boom erupts through the night air, a crescendo of collapsing metal and golden rings. You feel the scaffolding shake and see it falling apart around you. It gives way. Michelle panics as she starts to tip back and without thinking you pull her towards you. You watch as she grows smaller and smaller in your view, as everything gets further and further away. You hear a scream but don’t realise it’s yours, the sound leaving your lungs as the wind whips around you. Ned hangs from debris and you scold yourself for not protecting him better.

Your arms wave helplessly around you as your brain looks for something to grab onto. Suddenly Petey appears in your view. His face is battered and bruised, his eyes are trained on you. He looks aged, as if the last twelve hours have stolen what was left of his innocence. It was hard to watch him grow up, he was no longer your Little Petey. But this hurt more. Because this wasn’t him growing up, this was him falling apart.

He extends his hand to you and you reach for it. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of his nanotech before he’s ripped away, pinned to the front of the Goblin’s glider.

You hear a gut-wrenching cry from Peter as he was toted away, saw the defeat and rage in his eyes. You close your eyes and swallow back tears. You had never given much thought to how you would die. You were always so busy worrying about everything else. You worried about your father, you worried about May, you worried about Peter. You worried about your grades, you worried about your job, you worried about keeping your place clean. There was always so much to do, so much going on.

But as the end drew near, you still couldn’t think of you. Petey had lost so much and you hated to think you would be another boulder to carry. Another reason to grieve. You thought of all the milestones you would miss. He had always joked that you would one day be his best man, and he would be your maid of honour.

But you wouldn't be there for his wedding. You wouldn’t be there when he graduated from high school. You wouldn’t be there for his first hangover. You wouldn’t be there for his child’s first steps. You wouldn’t be there. You sent out an unguided wish, a silent prayer to anyone who might hear.

Please, let him be okay. Tell him that I love him, that he was the best friend, the best family, the best brother anyone could wish for. Tell him it’s gonna be okay.

You closed your eyes and let the tears slip. It was odd. They didn’t drip down your face, but floated up, as if not to stain you. You hoped the ground would be merciful, that your death would come swiftly. You imagined you were on the high dive at the pool you and Peter used to frequent in the summers. You were sailing into the deep waters, soon to be comforted by the chlorine and Petey’s cheers. You smiled.

Let me tell you, this depressive episode is going CRAZY, so again, I'm sorry for not posting as much and thank you for your patience. And I would like to reiterate, I am getting through it with the love and support of friends and medical professionals. I will eventually be okay, but I'm not now, and that's okay too. I hate to ask, but if you guys could leave some comments or nice words it would really mean a lot to me :))

Taglist: @actuallypeterparker, @alexa4040, @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[fireandspiceland]

Can I get an uhhhhhhh TurSic or TurGre with the attached Plutarch, Alexandros, 11, (Fig. 1) TurSic maybe referencing how the Ottoman Empire last tried conquer Sicily in 1571 (and had their ass handed to them by the Sicilians under Spanish Leadership in Fontane Bianche), when Michele was just a teenager, or just some TurGre, with Herakles referencing his own growth and being a bold little shit like Alex the pretty alright III. Or, OR, Third Alternative, some Cat. 56 (Fig. 2) with TurGreSic, in the vein of 'Oh, haven't you heard? About our open relationship?' Or if you prefer seperate acts, have the funfact that the 'threat' of oral sex was more associated with humiliation, while anal sex with punishment. Thinking along the lines of degrading your rival and punishing your girl.

(Fig. 1)

(Fig. 2)

I'm actually so sorry for having a breakdown in your inbox but. if I have ANYTHING to look forward in the next two weeks that isn't Uni, I'd be eternally grateful. I'll probably also get whiplash when I see this insane ask again (I also DO NOT CARE for any historical inaccuracies, you should not have to do any research for this, my brain is just Wired Like This & sees ancient texts as viable inspiration). HDGDL, sorry for being your friend, you can also 100% refuse this ask <3

you stop being sorry about sending long asks and being my friend this instant okay?! I love getting requests and you even gave me stuff to work with! What could be better than this? :D I hope you like what I wrote for you.

OC(s): APH Sicily - Michele Vento

-> infidelity, but not really. it's more of a roleplay between them, no one's really mad. open relationship between Sadik and Herakles, Michele makes them both feel like they are the third wheel.

The groan that fell from Michele's lips was a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. He gripped Herakles‘ sides a little tighter as his body was rocked back and forth with each thrust. The man hovering above him leaned down to place his head on Michele's shoulder. Sweat dropped from Heracles' forehead onto Michele's hot skin, making him shiver.

"Just a little..."

"Yeah!"

Another powerful thrust had Michele cry out, his painfully hard dick trapped between their bodies, but it still wasn't enough. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes from the need to find release so badly. When he noticed Herakles' movements getting more lazy again, he pushed the other man with a grunt and flipped them over.

Taking advantage of the new position, Michele quickly found his pace, riding Herakles who held onto the others' hips. He tried to take the lead again, but soon gave in to the pleasure Michele’s movements brought them both.

“Fuck,” Michele exclaimed, his voice strained, “I think I’m gonna-“

“Now that’s a sight to behold.”

Both Michele and Herakles froze with Michele collapsing on top of Herakles’ torso. A sob rippled through his body, mourning his now ruined orgasm. The pain from being so close to coming was still apparent and he gasped when Herakles sat up while still inside him.

“I thought you were out for the night,” he stated towards his husband, who was leaning against the doorframe to the living room.

“Change of plans.” Sadik shrugged and mustered his half dressed husband on the floor and their naked neighbour on top of him. “And it seems they changed in my favour.”

Herakles rolled his eyes at Sadik and petted Michele’s back, who grumbled something into Herakles’ pecs. They had been in similar situations, but this was still a little embarrassing.

“What are you doing?” Herakles frowned at Sadik and watched him step closer to where Michele and him were still lying on the carpet in the middle of the room.

Sadik reached out to pat Michele’s back, making the other man shiver at the hot touch on his now cold, sweaty skin. “Get up. Did you really think you could come into my house and fuck my husband without any consequences?”

The accusation made Michele stiffen. Sadik noticed the muscles in his back tense up before they relaxed again and Michele slowly pulled himself away from the protective space against Herakles chest.

“Is this really necess-“ Sadik lifted a hand to silence his husband. Another roll of Herakles’ eyes made the corner of Sadik’s lip quiver upwards.

In the meantime Michele had found his breath and voice again, with a glare directed at Sadik he quipped “For once I agree with your husband, whatever you think you’re doing seems very uncalled for.”

Sadik snorted at the comment and raised a curious eyebrow. “Now look at you little slut thinking you’ve got a say in this.” Now it was Michele who rolled his eyes at Sadik. The last comment had been more than just cliché. This could’ve been right out of a porno.

With a sigh Sadik shook his head, but his expression was still one of amusement as he undid the fly of his jeans. “You two are no fun. At least try to look guilty.”

Michele opened his mouth to say something but Herakles was faster. “You want me to play embarrassed because oh no!” Herakles shot Sadik with his best puppy eyes. “You caught me! Fucking the hot neighbour while I thought my husband to be at work!”

For emphasis Herakles put his hands on Michele’s hips while lazily fucking into him, drawing a surprised moan from the man on top of him. Sadik chuckled at the display and pulled his half hard dick from his pants.

A deep blush crept onto Michele’s cheeks as he mustered the thick head of Sadik’s cock as he stroked himself to full hardness. He felt Herakles twitch inside him and gasped.

“Suck it.” Sadik nudged the wet tip of his cock against Michele’s cheek, making him turn his head. “Since you like married men filling your holes.”

Only reluctantly Michele parted his lips when Sadik prodded against them. Herakles watched him take his husband’s cock further in his mouth and bob his head a few times before Sadik took a tight grip on Michele’s head. He hit the back of Michele’s throat repeatedly, his thrusts soon becoming more sloppy.

Herakles shivered at the thought of his husband marking the man on top of him and snapped his hips upwards, causing Michele to lose his balance and choke. Sadik only let go for a moment to let him catch his breath before going back to fucking Michele’s throat, never letting his look go anywhere else than his now teary eyes.

“Sadik..”

Without looking at his husband, Sadik lifted one hand to shut him.

“You’re not getting away so easily either. Just wait for your turn.”

The demanding tone had Herakles throw his head back and roll his hips again. Michelle jerked as he grazed his prostate and moaned around Sadik’s cock. The vibrations sent a final wave of pleasure through Sadik’s body and he pulled Michele’s head back, watched thick ropes of cum splatter his cheeks and lips.

A noise of discomfort came from Michele, who had his eyes pressed shut tightly, but the feeling of Herakles twitch and jerk inside him quickly eased the tension. When he opened his eyes, Sadik was crouched down next to him. He gripped Michele’s chin and pressed a kiss to his cheek, licking up a little of the cum in the process.

Michele cleared his sore throat and gave him an impatient look. “Am I done here? I don’t want to-“

“Of course not. You came here to get fucked by my husband, didn’t you?” Sadik looked down at Herakles in disapproval. “But from what I saw you can’t even satisfy a slut like him, so I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Herakles wanted to protest, but was cut off by his husband’s instructions for Michele to get onto the couch and for him to kneel behind him. The soft cushions were a welcome change for Michele’s knees and he settled himself onto the sofa - ass up, head down - without any protest. Might as well finish what we started.

Michele gasped when Herakles pushed into his hole again, sliding into it easily. Since he got to know about his neighbours’ open marriage, he had been involved with them several times, and Sadik being there to guide Herakles got his hopes of getting off tonight up again.

“What are you- Fuck.”

Herakles bucked his hips into Michele when he felt Sadik slick fingers scissoring him open. He leaned forward to give him better access, fucking deeper inside Michele. His hole was still stretched from being played with earlier this night and Sadik tsked with mocked disappointment. It didn't take long for a litany of curses to fall from Herakles lips, his desperation only making Sadik's arousal grow again.

“I’m gonna fuck you so you can learn how fo satisfy a man.”

With that Sadik lines himself up behind Herakles, pushing inside in one swift movement. Herakles nearly collapsed onto Michele, but tried to keep himself upright.

“Just follow my lead.”

The pace Sadik set was relentless, his thrusts hard enough to let Michele feel the force of them as well. He gripped Herakles' hips, changing the angle slightly to make Herakles hit his prostate with every combined thrust of the husbands.

After a few more thrusts, hitting him just like he needed it, Michele finally found release, coming into the space between his stomach and the cushions beneath him. His body went limp from exhaustion, aftershocks still rippling through his body after Herakles had slipped out of him.

Michele still felt Herakles’ hard cock dragging against his back with every one of Sadik’s thrusts. The sounds he made were desperate, pleading, Michele swore he heard a sob at some point, but was too blissed out to care. He only hummed in response when he felt Herakles’ cum on his back and heard Sadik scream out in pleasure.

[idy-ll-ique]

Do Your Job.

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: Nope

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N doesn't know how to say no. And Chris doesn't like that.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Angry!Chris in this fic, kind of Naive!Reader... Enjoy

---

Chris watched with a clenched jaw as the woman winced upon hearing her boss. He didn't like her boss, at all. "Y/N! Why haven't you made my coffee yet?" he screamed at her, despite standing only a few feet away from her. "I-I was… I was helping Peter…" she tried saying and Chris' hands balled into fists when the man took a few steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger in her face.

"Does he pay you? Huh? Are you his assistant? Now get lost and get me some coffee, fast! No excuses!" Teary-eyed after being screamed at, Y/N whirled around and walked out of the room. Chris wanted nothing more than to just grab that asshole's neck and squeeze until the life poured out of him. "Hey, everything okay?" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to his co-star, Michelle Dockery.

"I, uh, yeah… yeah, I'm fine, why?" Michelle didn't miss his grumpiness. "Come on, you were sitting there like you were imagining someone's murder," she snorted, plopping down on the couch next to him. "His," Chris huffed, nodding his head towards Y/N's boss who was speaking to one of the extras on set. "What did he do?" Michelle frowned and turned to look as well.

"That man does not know how to treat his assistant."

It was the last week of filming Defending Jacob. Y/N had caught Chris' eye on his first day at work; she had him wrapped around her finger in the first week. She was super beautiful, very polite, kind and helpful. She cracked funny jokes and whenever she entered a room, it seemed to get a little brighter and livelier. Chris wanted to ask her out, but chickened out whenever he tried to approach her.

They hadn't talked, ever. Sure, sometimes he'd catch her looking in his direction during breaks and in-between shoots, but he never thought anything of it. He was Chris Evans, people were gonna stare. But, in the first month of filming, Chris realized that the woman had a bad habit— she didn't know how to say no. Ever. She never, ever said no to anyone. And that annoyed him.

Y/N, can you come here for a bit?

She would get up without question, and follow the voice. He once saw her sitting down for a quick lunch and she had only had one bite before someone called for her. And he had watched as she kept her lunch away and walked towards the person. That had made him unbelievably angry, because even after her work, she didn't eat. She gave up on lunch. He had come very close to talking to her that day.

His pent up frustration increased day-by-day, as more and more people started using Y/N's overly helpful nature to their advantage. He noticed how she ran around from place to place all day, how she'd practically collapse on a seat the moment she got a break and would softly groan when she heard her name not even 15 seconds later. And the worst part? None of the people she helped were polite.

Once, he saw Y/N helping someone with her dress and the moment the job was done, the other woman had walked away without a word, talking to some of her friends. He saw how Y/N had just stared at the woman, blinking, expecting a thank you but receiving nothing in return. He noticed the disappointed sigh she heaved after and left to do her other work. That incident had just made him want to hold her and never let go.

That brought them to today. Chris and Michelle dropped the topic and chatted about something else until he saw her from the corner of his eye. Then he turned to see her fully, watching as Y/N handed the cup of coffee to her boss. That man had the audacity to give her a glare before he walked away, sipping on the coffee. This time, even Michelle noticed, and her jaw dropped.

"What?! That bastard!" she exclaimed as a teardrop rolled down Y/N's cheek. Chris' heart broke at the sight, his eyes closing when someone behind him shouted her name. Her hand instantly flew up to wipe her tears and she smiled to herself before turning in his direction. And for a brief moment, their eyes met. She gave him a quick smile before jogging past him towards the person who asked for her.

He couldn't even smile back.

---

"Cut! Break time."

Chris eased out of his tense position and rolled his shoulders before walking away, trying to find a seat. His feet ached from standing. He soon found a seat and sat down, taking out his phone. He went over some texts, until he heard her name being called. Then his head snapped up, because the person who had called for her was her boss. He glanced around until he saw her a few feet away from him.

She had her headphones in and was holding her phone horizontally, which made him realize that she was either watching YouTube, a show or a movie. And she was on her break. "Yes?" Y/N replied, taking out her headphones. "Get me another cup of coffee," the boss mentioned offhandedly, "It's my break." Chris glared at that. Make it yourself, asshole.

"But sir, it's my break too…" Y/N insisted softly. And without knowing, Chris' feet carried him towards the two. "So? I pay you, Y/L/N, there's no need to be such a brat. I'll have you fired in no time, you— Mr Evans?" Everyone around them froze as Chris placed his hand on Y/N's shoulder, darkly glaring at her boss. "She told you she's on a break," he spoke coldly. "Mr Evans—"

And the knot inside him finally broke.

"She's on a fucking break! Let her get some rest! She has been running around all day, doing things for your lazy butts—" he addressed everyone loudly, "—and none of you even thank her! Do you know what an angel she is? She continues helping you even after you treat her like scum! It's just some fucking coffee, if you're on a break, make it yourself! For God's sake, leave the woman alone! All of you, if I ever, ever hear her name being called around here again, it's over. I'll make sure you're off the set before you can even say sorry. Now get lost!"

He didn't mean to be so loud, nor so angry. But it just happened, months of frustration, months of anger released all at once. Y/N's boss stared at Chris for a few seconds, blinking, before muttering a quiet sorry and leaving. Everyone silently got back to work as Chris took in some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. That's when he felt a small hand covering his.

He looked down and saw Y/N smiling at him, tears wantonly running down her cheeks. "Thank you so much," she whispered and his heart raced. "Absolutely no problem, darling. They were the assholes, using you to their advantage like that, so fucking disrespectfully… You have got to learn how to say no," he chuckled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "I do, don't I?" she hummed, her lips twitching in shame.

"We'll work on it, I promise." He gently cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Y/N gulped, trying her best to hide the effect his touch had on her. She had a crush on him, but like, who didn't? "How? It's the last week of filming," she pointed out with a small, sarcastic laugh. "It doesn't have to be the last week of us talking. How about we have dinner tonight, 8?"

Was he actually asking her out?!

"Yeah, yeah 8 sounds good," she replied near instantly and he gave her an amused smile. "Great. I'll meet you later, okay?" As he started walking away, she called out, "Mr Evans! My number!" And he walked back to her. They exchanged numbers, sent each other "hi" to make sure they had the correct number and Chris walked away again, ready to film the last scene of the day.

He was in an unusually good mood, having finally asked her out. She said yes.

He was also pleased at the end of the day, not having heard Y/N's name being called out even once after his outburst. Sure, after her break, some people had requested her assistance but they talked politely to her, saying thank you when she was done and smiling. Chris approved of that, after all, it was her job.

And, in the blink of an eye, it was 7:30 pm.

Chris was at home, fixing his hair. They had agreed to meet at his place, not wanting the media to find out. There, he had already ordered some pizzas and had beer ready, a movie paused on the TV. Chris finished messing with his hair and went downstairs, quickly patting Dodger's head. He sat on the couch and waited, busy scrolling through Twitter until he heard the doorbell ring.

When he opened the door, he saw Y/N. And his breath caught in his throat; she looked absolutely stunning dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a cute little smile plastered on her face. "May I come in?" she laughed a bit when he just stood there, staring at her in awe.

It turned out to be a really good date, the perfect start to a perfect relationship.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[bravemikhailo]

fluff #24 💘

dear michelle! I bet you thought I forgot about this, but surprise! I did not. I just didn’t have much time lately but here I finally am with… this. lol

this surely came out longer than what I imagined!

fluff #24: “how mad would you be if I kissed you?” from this list ✨

- - -

Ok so I’m thinking about one of those rare occasions in which Mickey wakes up before Ian, his eyes slowly fluttering open with the sunbeams filtering through the stupid white curtains and gleaming in his peripheral vision.

He stretches out in the bed, groaning as his joints crack, and a look at his right is all he needs to know it’s still early, because his husband is still there by his side, laying on his belly, face burrowed in his pillow and lips pressed in a pout that makes Mickey’s stomach flutter. He snores quietly, and the morning light washes over him just right, his messy baby curls glowing bright red. 

And, well. Mickey can’t help but stare at him. He knows every curve, every bone, every little freckle mapping his skin, and yet he can’t help but look. And touch. So he reaches out a hand and runs it over Ian’s warm skin, from the dip of his back, fingers lightly tracing his spine, feeling every bump, all the way up to where his shoulder blades poke through his skin.

His neck is damp with sweat and his hair is soft and Mickey runs his fingers through it, over and over again, watching as his curls straighten and curl back again like a spring. He scratches his scalp with his nails, gently, and maybe he should feel a bit guilty when Ian begins to stir, but no, not really, because there’s nothing, absolutely nothing in this world even coming close to seeing his husband wake up. 

Sometimes he can’t quite believe that this is his life, now. That he gets to have this. Seeing Ian like this, sleepy and safe and cozy, it makes everything worth it. Every fucking second. 

His hand continues its course, calloused fingers against fair skin as Ian wakes, from his shoulder and down his arm, thumb pressing into every muscle, to his hand. His breath catches when he touches Ian’s wedding band. Such a small thing, really. And yet, it’s everything. Everything. 

Ian blinks, peeking at Mickey behind heavy eyelids. Mickey smiles, it’s all he can do on days like this. He interlocks their fingers, and gives Ian’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Good morning.” Ian mumbles, the corners of his lips turning up in a lazy grin. He shifts, huffing, so that he’s facing Mickey properly, their hands still joined between them. Mickey brings them to his lips, gives Ian’s knuckles a kiss. 

“Morning.” He mumbles back, dropping Ian’s hand to sneak an arm around his waist. He closes his eyes. 

“Don’t I get a kiss, too?” Ian asks after a beat.

“Your breath smells like ass.” 

He chuckles when Ian hits his shoulder. He tightens the grip around his waist, fingers digging in the flesh. Ian goes silent, and Mickey thinks they’re going back to sleep, but then the bed creaks when Ian scoots closer, hand sliding up and down Mickey’s back. 

“How mad would you be if I kissed you?” He asks, voice teasing, a whisper. 

Mickey’s eyes pop open at that, only to be met with Ian’s puppy green motherfuckers, and he immediately regrets it. There’s no way he’s going to win this, not against those damn puppy eyes. Not that he wants to, anyway. He very much wants to lose this battle, smelly breath or not. 

But he also wants to fuck a bit with him.

So he smacks his arm. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He warns, only for Ian to climb over him in a whim, pinning his arms above his head. He swallows, the air suddenly thick and hot around them. “Get off me,” he says, but it’s weak, his defenses dropping. 

And, well. When Ian starts peppering his belly in open-mouthed kisses, bringing out his tongue when he gets to his nipples, he gives in, a strangled moan escaping his lips. 

“Get the fuck up here.”

[bellakitse]

Midnight Talk about Boys

Marjan watches as whatever the other person on the phone – obviously someone TK is seeing – talks to him, whatever the other man is saying makes TK all but melt into the cushions of the couch as he leans back and stares dreamily at the ceiling.

*

When Marjan can't sleep, she finds TK in the common area talking lovingly to someone on the phone.

30 days of Tarlos - Day 9

inspired by @lauraperfectinsanity prompt here

Marjan doesn’t really know what wakes her up; she’s usually blessed with being a sound sleeper, and yet somewhere after eleven, she finds herself up, staring at the ceiling of the dormitories listening to Judd’s snores one bunk over. She tries to ignore it, closing her eyes in the hope that sleep will come again. Another fifteen minutes pass before she resigns herself to being awake. She gets up softly, not wanting to wake up her other crew members, just because she’s awake doesn’t mean they should suffer too, the call alarm can ring any moment, and sleep is precious in their line of work.

As she sits up, putting on a pair of socks, she looks around the room at everyone she cares about deeply. When she first came to Austin from Miami, she didn’t expect to find a family. Honestly, she expected more of the same she had gotten in Florida, coworkers who didn’t really believe in her, instead she’s ended up with friends that have her back no matter what. She smiles to herself as she thinks about it, snickering softly when Judd lets out a loud snore, it’s a miracle any of them can sleep through that to begin with.

Only it seems that maybe one of her crew members isn’t sleeping through it, she looks over at TK’s bunk to find it completely empty. No TK or Buttercup who has taken to always sleeping with the younger Strand no matter how many yummy treats auntie has. She’s not going to get over that personal blow anytime soon; it doesn’t matter what she or any of the rest of them do, if TK is around, it’s like the rest of them are invisible to Buttercup.

No accounting for taste, she thinks with a roll of her eyes. With her socks on, she silently leaves the dormitory, and Judd’s snores behind as she heads for the kitchen to get a bottle of water.

She has her water in hand heading for the common area, hoping a little television will help her brain unwind enough to go back to sleep when she hears TK.

“How was your day?” she hears him ask whoever he’s on the phone with, he hasn’t noticed her yet as he pets Buttercup who’s resting his head on TK’s lap, giving her time to study him.

She’s known him for months now; she’s seen ‘annoyingly cocky but good at his job’ TK, she seen him look vulnerable after he got shot and then told them about his addiction. She’s seen the ‘teasing’ TK as he jokes around with them, and she’s seen ‘worried gentle’ TK as he makes sure his dad eats. She’s even gotten used to ‘upset and anxious’ TK if one of them has a close call on the job. The TK she knows is a gentle guy, and yet it’s nothing compared to the look he has on his face as he listens to the other person on the line.

“That didn’t happen,” TK says, chuckling, his face bright with happiness. “You’re making that up.”

He listens for another moment before rolling his eyes, but the soft smile doesn’t leave his face. “You would totally make that up,” he says again, pausing to listen. “To make me smile, of course,” he says with a grin that grows as the other person on the line speaks again.

“I miss you too, baby,” he sighs softly. “I hate when our shifts don’t line up, but I finish this shift in the morning, and then I’m all yours. Are you sure you want to pick me up? I can just go to your place; I can pick up breakfast on the way so you can sleep in.”

Marjan watches as whatever the other person on the phone – obviously someone TK is seeing – talks to him, whatever the other man is saying makes TK all but melt into the cushions of the couch as he leans back and stares dreamily at the ceiling.

“Okay fine,” he says with a lazy grin. “Who am I to say no to my hot boyfriend picking me up in his hot car.”

TK laughs at the answer his boyfriend gives him at his comment. “I’m going to let you go – no, you just got off shift and need your rest. I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart.”

Marjan watches him end the call with another soft sigh. She thinks for a moment about turning around to go back to the dorms since TK hasn’t noticed her yet as he gets lost in his little lovesick world, but she’s curious about who he was talking to, and she’s never been one to leave a curiosity alone.

“So you have a boyfriend,” she says, biting down on her bottom lip when he jumps. Buttercup, who has been falling asleep on his lap, gives him the most aggravated look he can give his favorite human.

“Marjan,” TK gasps out, his hand over his heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Marjan makes an apologetic face as she walks over to him, sitting down on the other side of Buttercup, who looks at her but doesn’t do much more since TK is petting his head as an apology of his own for disturbing his sleep.

“Were you eavesdropping?” TK questions, his eyes are narrowed, but he doesn’t actually look or sound upset.

“Not on purpose, but yes,” she answers honestly, smiling when TK rolls his eyes in response.

“So are you going to tell me about the boy?” she questions again, anxious for answers. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone; you’re only ever with us, or Officer Reyes – “ she cuts herself off, her eyes going wide when TK grins back at her.

“You’re hooking up with Officer hottie?” she hisses, earning a laugh from TK.

“I was hooking up with Carlos,” TK answers, and she rolls her eyes as he emphasizes his name. The guy is hot like fire, ‘Officer hottie’ is an appropriate nickname. “Now, I’m dating Carlos.”

“Why have you been keeping this a secret?” she questions, frowning when TK shakes his head.

“I’m not,” he starts. “Not on purpose anyway. My dad knows about Carlos and me, and Michelle knows since she’s Carlos’ best friend. Paul even knows too since we’ve taken him with us to some clubs that are LGBT friendly. I haven’t been purposely hiding it from the rest of you guys. It’s just with our crazy work schedules, it’s hard to find alone time, so when we do have some, he and I tend to get lost in each other.”

Marjan nods, understanding what he means, she’s been in town for months and hasn’t gone on a single date, though how much that has to do with time, and not with maybe having a tiny crush on a certain probie, she isn’t ready to examine too deeply yet.

“He seems like a nice guy,” she offers. She’s only really seen Carlos on calls, but he’s always professional, kind, and empathetic.

“He’s amazing,” TK answers, that wistful expression from before coming back. “He’s such a good guy, funny and understanding, always patient and so loving,” TK continues with a far off look as he sings his boyfriend’s praises. “And when I’m with him, I just…” he trails off, letting out a sigh as he smiles to himself.

“Wow,” she lets out, staring at her friend in amazement. “You aren’t just dating Carlos; you’re in love with him.”

TK doesn’t deny her statement; instead, he just gives her a shrug, smiling down as he gives Buttercup another gentle head rub. She wonders how she missed this; she might not be a human lie detector like Paul, but she’s usually pretty perceptive, and somehow she’s missed a member of her new family falling in love. She thinks back to a few months ago when they almost lost him first to a gunshot and then to his doubts about belonging with them. She thinks of the scared look on his face when he bravely told them about his past, and is instantly filled with so much warmth and affection for the man sitting next to her.

“I’m really happy for you, TK,” she says softly, feeling her eyes sting from all the emotion she feels inside. “You deserve to be happy.”

TK stares at her, his own eyes looking a little wet as he swallows hard. “Thank you, Marjan,” he whispers, reaching out to touch her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “That means a lot.

They stay quiet for a moment, just the sound of Buttercup’s little puffs of air as he dreams filling the space as they get over their emotional moment.

“Okay, so I have one very important, burning question,” she starts with a smirk that has TK raising an eyebrow at her. “Officer Carlos without a shirt?” she lets the question hang meaningfully.

TK smirks back at her, his green eyes dancing with delight. “Should totally arrest himself,” he says wickedly. “It’s definitely a crime to be that hot.”

Marjan lets out a laughing shriek, laughing even louder when TK joins her.

“Seriously, Marjan, it’s a miracle I don’t choke on my own drool when I’m around him,” he says as he drops his head back on the couch dramatically.

Marjan laughs again, settling in as TK continues to speak, obviously only just getting started now that they’re on the subject of his boyfriend's beauty.

They should probably go back to the dorms and try to get some sleep, who knows if they’ll be lucky enough to get through the night without a call until their shift ends in the morning at eight. But as TK starts talking dreamily about Carlos’ eyelashes of all things, she figures she can sacrifice some sleep to watch her friend talk about his boyfriend like a high schooler with a crush.

In the morning, when she’s getting ready to leave, she thinks about all she and TK talked about as she spots Carlos waiting by the bay doors, her heart full as his face lights up just as much as her friend’s last night when TK comes down the stairs. After TK all but runs into his arms, he turns to her with a smile asking if she wants to join them for breakfast, she shakes her head no. She’s still curious about them and wants to see what they’re like together, but figures now that she knows about them, there’s time for that later. For now, she’s just happy witnessing how Carlos holds her friend close, looking at him with the same love she saw in TK’s eyes the night before.

Once they’ve left in Carlos’ cool car, she heads back upstairs, TK’s happiness inspiring her to search for her own.

She finds it still in the dorms now dressed in street clothes. “Hey probie,” she starts, her heart ticking upward when Mateo turns to her with a boyish smile. “How do you feel about you and me getting breakfast?”

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Mack is such a weird one because yes he has alot of episodes but the show really hasnt given him any depth, he shows up does a few dodgy deals which usually flop and then when he isnt doing that he is either flirting or winding someone up depending on the character considering the show uses him so much they have really kept him so one dimensional like they introduced a brother for Moria and a whole backstory and they have done nothing with it? they broke up vanity a 3 year w|w couple (the show now has no same sex romances) and didnt even have Charity and Mack come to anything i mean they still might but they taking awhile

I gotta say anon, Mack stuff aside, I don’t understand this continued outrage that they broke up a 3 year wlw couple and that the show now has no same sex romances. And this isn’t just you of course, just something I’ve seen a lot lately, especially surrounding this pride episode thing.

Was the whole “Charity kissing a random wild Mack that appeared out of nowhere on the side of the road because Vanessa didn’t come home and didn’t tell her why and Tracy happened somehow be there and take a picture of it and send it to her sister” well written? God no. And I can’t imagine why anyone that upset over this would want the show to do anything with Mack and Charity for real afterwards. It was clearly a lazy quick fix to their problem of Michelle being off screen. 

But so much of the outrage seems to be centered right now on the fact that they broke them up at all and that there are no current same sex couples on the show heading into this pride episode. And like....what did you want them to do? They weren’t going to have Michelle on screen for a year or so. How do they do that without breaking them up? Could they have had her cancer return and sent her off screen for treatment abroad or something? Sure, I guess but then you’re a little limited on what you can do with Charity in the meantime. Plus I feel like they clearly have some major unresolved issues between them, including Vanessa’s inability to trust Charity with the big stuff. So I feel like a break up could do them well in the long run. But in general, I don’t understand the outrage considering that they literally don’t have Michelle on screen. 

And of course Robron gets brought up too, which still baffles me. I mean Ryan left the show. What the hell were they supposed to do? The on screen characters cannot be beholden to off screen characters forever. It doesn’t make sense. 

And if you don’t have those two couples, would people rather they rush mediocre things like Aaron and Ben or Luke and Ethan just to have a same sex couple for pride? I mean, they still might get there, who knows. 

Should they have maybe done a pride episode back in June of 2019 (preferably before June 12th so robron fans could have enjoyed it) when they still had both Vanity and Robron plus Matty and Liv? Sure, absolutely. I would have loved that. But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t do one now. 

This really isn’t all directed at you anon, don’t worry. Just a rant based on things I’ve seen that I’ll probably get myself into trouble for. 

But back to Mack for a second since that was what this ask was about in the first place, the whole “they did nothing with Moira and Mack’s backstory” thing is exactly why I hate these convoluted backstories for new characters in the first place. If all that’s going to happen is a scene of the two characters who share that history having a chat about it? Then what’s the point? If it’s not going to yield actual story in the present then I don’t get the purpose. If they’d had Mack come clean about their mother before she was actually dead and we got to see Moira reconcile with her and Mack react to that and then see him lose it or see them grow closer as a result then that would have been something. If they brought in this abusive father of theirs and did a story there, that would be something, but as it stands? Pointless. Especially because we didn’t even see Mack work to regain her trust after the whole thing came out in the first place. She just let him move back in immediately. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but he’s not a deep character at the moment although I do think the potential is there if they wanted to actually do something with it. 

[demivampirew]

Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 11

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress, musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air, escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Triggers:  crying.

Tag list: Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank  you   so much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too  ☺️   (I   think I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to  tag   you, tell me ☺️   ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo   constip8merm8   penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen  littlefreya  wondersofdreaming  alyxkbrl solariumss  sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira   @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog   @lunedelorient​  @michelle-1185​

-So, how did the audition go?- Henry asked you. You video-called him as soon as you woke up as you promised to do every day that you spend apart. You also agreed that he'd do the same before going to sleep. You had your audition the day before in the afternoon, but by the time it ended, he was already sleeping because he needed to be awake at 3 am to get ready to be on the set of the show, so he just left you a sweet good night text and went to bed. He was once again on Geralt's makeup but you were starting to get used to it. - Great! - you said, happy but not overexcited. He studied your expression. - Are you sure? You don't seem that excited. - Yes, I'm sure. I just don't want to get my expectations too high so it won't hurt so bad if I don't get it. - you admitted shrugging. - You'll get it. You're amazing! - he encouraged you - I know...and so are the other actresses up for the role. The casting director told me I did an amazing job, but he, the director and the producers needed to have a chat to see who of all the potentials candidates was the most fitting for the role, but he assured me that I was on that list. It's a good thing, but until they tell me "you got it", I won't celebrate anything. Ok, maybe the fact that it felt really good to be back on the acting game. It's been a while and until now I haven't realized how much I missed it. - I have not doubts you'll get it, but if you don't, you'll get other chances to work with Meryl Streep and there are thousands of movies ready for you to be on them if you want to and you know that.- he said proudly and made you smile. -You're right. Thank you.- How's Kal? - He's great. Kal! - Henry screamed at Kal to see if the puppy came to say hi to you but he showed you that the puppy was lazily resting on a couch. Both of you laughed. - Hi Kal! I missed you!- You could see him moving his tail, probably because he recognized your voice, but he continued sitting on his spot. - He's lazy today, but he's missed you too. We both do. - And I missed both of you too. - Do you by any chance know when you are coming back? - he asked - Not yet. They told me that by tomorrow the should have a decision made and then they let us know because they need to sign the contracts. So for sure, I have to wait another day and if I get it I have to stay until I signing. - I see. - he sighed- Well, it could be just a few more days hopefully. - Yes, let's hope so. - What are you going to do today? - I... I'm going to Jared's house -you said sighing in a sign of displeasing - You're going to your ex's house?- he repeated in an inquisitive tone, he clearly wasn't pleased with that. - Yes. When I moved out I didn't take everything with me, just some essentials. I have clothes, my awards, a few instruments and some other things that I still have to pick up. - Is he gonna be in there? - No, as far as I know. I haven't been talking to him. I only talk to his assistant Shayla, we're cool and she actually took the time to put most of my belongings into boxes to save me time. I just have to go and grab them and see if there's anything else mine that she might have forgotten to pack. We spoke yesterday and she told me that he agreed to leave the house for the day so I could take all my stuff and leave. He'll just give the key to her and she'll let me in and help me with everything. Are you jealous? - you questioned amused. - It's not that...It's just... you suffer a lot with him and in that house. I'm just not happy about the idea of you being in the place that caused you all that pain. - I know. It's not exactly happy for me either. I hate that house. But, I want my possessions back so I've got to go. I'll be alright, I promise. - I hope so. I'll call you tonight, ok? I have to be back on set right now. Bye baby- he said waving you. - Ok. Bye baby! - you replied blowing a kiss.

The house hadn't changed a bit since you left. The only difference is that for the first time in a long time was practically empty, except for Shayla, Beth - who went with you to help you and for moral support- and two men from a moving company waiting outside by the truck; Jared gave the day to all the employees that are always around the house so you could be alone as you picked up your stuff. You always begged him to do that, but of course, he had to wait for you to broke up to do it, but still, it was a nice gesture. Shayla's done a pretty good job boxing all your stuff. There were just a few minor things, like a pair of shoes, one of your guitars that she thought that belonged to Jared and a few books. You went to the closet to see if she missed any piece of clothing and you didn't find anything yours, but to your surprise, you found a woman's clothes where yours used to be. It didn't take you a long time to recognize some of those clothes and you knew that those belong to her; the woman he slept with right after you broke up with him, the woman he told you for a long time that "was just a friend". You looked at Shayla raising your eyebrow in a sign of annoyment. She didn't need you to say a word to know what was going on in your head. "She's been staying in here for the last couple weeks," she told you and you rolled you eyes and replied "whatever". After taking all the things that were yours, you hugged Shayla a thanked her for her help. She's always been so nice to you. She was one of the few people that you were going to miss now that things between you and her boss and friend were over. You decided to leave the unboxing part for another moment. Moving this was already exhausting. You went to take a shower and went to bed early. As soon as your head touched the pillow, all the feelings hit you hard and you started to cry, trying hard not to make a sound so your friend wouldn't hear you. True to be told, you didn't love Jared anymore, but he was important and meaningful to you and you were hoping that it'd be the same for him when it came to you. You have the feeling that he was never really in love with you, but you thought that you were important to him somehow. But now it didn't seem like it. He not only slept with that woman the same day of your break up, but he allowed her to move in with him after you moved. It doesn't hurt that he moved on. It doesn't even hurt that is with her. It hurts that he's saying "I don't care, you're replaceable". Because that's the truth, for him, neither Valery nor you are irreplaceable. You are just a woman and he could always find a new one. After a long cry, you felt better. You needed to let those negative feelings leave your body and don't let them bother you anymore. You left him in the past for a reason. And you made a promise to Henry. "Henry!" you said and gasp. He called you as promised before going to bed, but it was the afternoon in LA and you were still in your ex's house and you just had found out about the woman living there so you were a little distracted when he called you. You told him you were fine, but he saw your face and notice that something was off but you continued to avoid talking about it. You grabbed your phone, that you hadn't touched in all day and after seeing notifications from twitter, due to a paparazzo that took photos of you moving your stuff from Jared's house and ignoring it, you went directly to read the messages. You had one from Henry that said " I don't know what happened to you today, but I know you were not feeling ok. You're not forced to tell me anything, but I want you to know that I'm always there to listen when you need, no matter the time, the phone is on if you need a call. I hope you feel better. Talk to you, tomorrow baby." Once again you had tears on your eyes, but this time were tears of joy. You smiled and open your gallery and saw a few selfies that you two took together, several pictures of him cooking for you, pictures of him and Kal and pictures of Kal and you. You grabbed your phone and decided to text him the truth. You apologized to him because you failed your promise, but you assured him that you felt much better now. You left your phone on the nightstand and closed your eyes to sleep. A few minutes went by and your phone started ringing and you saw that it was Henry. -Hi- you answered is a low tone - You should be sleeping. - I was - he replied and you notice by the sound of his voice that he was telling the truth- and I will be asleep again shortly, I just wanted to say that you're irreplaceable to me. You're not just another woman, you're special. You're extraordinary and I'm sorry if he failed to let you know that. You're incredible - he assured you. As he was saying this last words you heard him yawn. -Thanks, baby. Now, go back to sleep, we'll talk better tomorrow. - Ok. Sleep well!- he told you as you were pretty sure he fell asleep as soon as he finished saying those words. - You too, baby! - you replied and hung up.

[ripleyfm]

              ･ﾟ☀   good   morning   to   everyone   except   those   who   hate   on   legend   of   korra   !   skskskks   i’m   teddy   ,   i’m   a   lil   ole   baby   swinging   back   into   the   rpc   heart   emojis   a   -   blazing   !   this   is   my   lil   sunflower   chaos   seeker   known   as   ripley   ,   a   newer   muse   for   me   but   i’m   really   excited   to   flesh   her   out   here   with   some   extra   spooky   elements   .   i   have   a   god   awful   sense   of   humor   and   too   much   enthusiasm   for   angst   so   tbh   ?   come   get   y’all   PLOTTIN   JUICE   to   distract   me   from   thirsting   over   avatar   kyoshi   !  disc / ord is @𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 !#6439 since i’ll be mobile for the afternoon !

* [ bruna marquezine + cis female + she / her ] —— have you met tallulah ripley ? they are a twenty-two year old senior currently studying biology & music theory. they live on decker house, and word around campus is that this leo is vibrant + gregarious, as well as hedonistic + philophobic. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. trailing sand in on the hardwood with bare feet , running late to meetings ( and asking forgiveness with a mere flash of a grin ) , tucking a greta van fleet album among the family collection of concierto classics .

EDIT : wanted and current connections can be found here ! 

youngest   of   four   ,   born   into   an   old   money   surname   ,   her   mother ,  an  international   student  from  sao  paolo  ,  brazil  ,  and  american   father   meet   as   competing   pianists   at   holloway   ,   falling   in   love   ,   marrying   ,   and   beginning   the   next   generation   of   the   ripley   virtuosos   soon   after   graduation   .   her   childhood   is   privileged   and   uneventful   ,   strict   and   stifling   as   early   as   she   can   remember   ,   tallulah   causing   trouble   enough   as   if   to   make   up   for   her   perfectly   behaved   siblings   .

her   father   becomes   one   of   the   most   prolific   modern   composers   of   his   time   ,   and   splits   his   efforts   between   composition   and   teaching   music   theory   at   julliard   as   his   wife   continues   performances   as   a   famed   pianist   .   though   her   siblings   branch   out   into   other   instruments   ,   tallulah   is   the   only   one   stubborn   enough   to   weather   the   callouses   on   her   fingers   ,   figuring   if   she’s   going   to   be   forced   to   play   an   instrument   of   any   type   ,   it’ll   at   least   be   something   she   likes   .   thus   ,   the   only   stringed   instrument   in   the   ripley   household   becomes   hers   as   she   takes   on   the   cello   by   storm   .

practicing   cello   is   perhaps   the   only   thing   lu   truly   commits   herself   to   —   charming   and   sociable   as   she   may   be   ,   her   selectiveness   with   her   efforts   makes   her   sluggish   with   schoolwork   as   if   to   give   her   family   a   hard   time   .   her   siblings   ,   all   honor   scholars   and   first   chairs   at   their   respective   instruments   ,   pick   on   her   for   her   unmotivated   wild   child   ways   at   the   encouragement   of   her   mother   .   the   only   person   who   takes   the   time   to   sit   with   tallulah   and   keep   her   on   track   is   her   ever   -   tired   (   but   endlessly   generous   )   father   .

her   world   is   turned   upside   down   her   freshman   year   when   her   father’s   occasional   stumble   turns   into   a   more   regular   struggle   to   keep   his   balance   ,   an   ultimate   diagnosis   of   a   degenerative   disease   rattling   their   family   as   they   know   it   .   tallulah   ,   wild   and   only   tamed   by   the   kindness   of   one   man   ,   starts   acting   out   in   an   effort   to   ignore   the   world   around   her   .   the   rift   between   herself   and   her   family   only   multiplies   when   she   discovers   her   mother   having   an   affair   as   her   father’s   health   continues   to   decline   .

he   passes   away   on   a   vacation   he   and   tallulah   take   to   the   ripley   summer   beach   house   ,   something   they   had   done   to   have   some   quiet   time   together   away   from   the   judgement   of   her   siblings   .   having   to   be   the   one   to   break   the   news   to   the   family   ,   she   feels   herself   shut   down   and   lose   whatever   desire   she   had   left   to   live   the   perfect   life   her   mother   and   siblings   tried   to   force   on   her   .

she   starts   going   almost   exclusively   by   her   surname   ,   making   it   into   holloway   more   as   a   favor   to   her   family’s   generous   donations   to   the   music   program   than   on   grades   .   she’s   barely   hanging   on   by   her   involvement   in   the   university’s   symphonic   orchestra   ,   where   she’s   a   first   chair   cellist   that   shows   up   late   to   every   damn   rehearsal   and   somehow   can   cold   sightread   well   enough   to   piss   everyone   off   ksksksk   .

given   this   ,   she’s   only   minoring   in   music   theory   to   stay   in   the   orchestra   ,   and   partially   to   feel   close   to   her   dad   .   though   her   dream   is   to   write   music   scores   for   films   ,   she’s   majoring   in   biology   to   have   a   respectable   backup   plan   .   if   she   can’t   do   music   forever   ,   she’ll   disappear   onto   a   beach   somewhere   in   costa   rica   and   be   a   marine   biologist   and   never   be   heard   from   again   lmao

PERSONALITY   :   ripley   is   happiest   shotgunning   a   white   claw   before   piling   into   the   squad   car   and   calling   aux   immediately   !   loves   her   friends   and   sees   her   circle   as   found   family   that   she   would   do   anything   for   .   

she’s   laid   back   and   observant   ,   one   of   the   quieter   in   the   group   as   she   tries   to   suss   you   out   but   is   the   first   to   approach   a   newbie   and   act   as   if   you’ve   been   friends   for   ages   .   she   makes   an   active   effort   to   not   judge   others   on   the   basis   of   first   impressions   and   tends   to   be   rather   open   minded   when   meeting   others   ,   which   makes   her   a   sort   of   universal   friend   -   to   -   all   ;   given   this   ,  when  wronged  ,  she’s   a   stubborn   little   shit   and   though   she   wont   let   them   live   rent   free   in   that   headspace   ,   she’ll   go   full   send   to   making   sure   they’re   aware   they   don’t   exist   to   her   !  

she   hates   petty   drama   and   tends   to   skirt   most   responsibility   by   sweet   -   talking   her   way   out   of   things   ,   giving   the   impression   that   she   can   be   lazy   or   unmotivated   .   this   is   true   to   some   extent   ,   such   as   with   her   grades   or   her   timeliness   ,   but   those   who   strike   the   right   balance   will   see   a   side   of   ripley   that   is   laser   focused   ,   whether   its   drunken   ramblings   about   the   brilliance   of   the   chord   progressions   on   fleetwood   mac’s   rumors   or   an   astute   observation   about   the   emotion   behind   a   certain   cello   movement   .   though   she   prefers   to   skip   the   hard   thinking   and   just   enjoy   the   moment   ,   ripley’s   admittedly   a   clever   girl   ,   simply   needing   the   right   push   to   unlock   her   truest   potential   .  

she’s   incredibly   relaxed   (   sometimes   a   bit   too   much   for   the   preference   of   some   )   and   tends   to   try   and   avoid   over   -   complicating   issues   in   order   to   not   have   to   face   them   .   especially   considering   the   infidelity   of   her   mother   ,   ripley   is   a   staunch   believer   that   relationships   are   a   waste   of   time   and   is   the   annoying   bitch   who   argues   that   being   in   love   is   a   scam   made   up   by   the   simps   to   feel   valid   !  

acts   as   if   she   isn’t   FULL   of   feelings   and   emotions   24/7   n   listens   to   emo   70’s   power   ballads   when   the   person   she   likes   doesnt   confess   their   love   for   her   under   the   moonlight   like   they   were   supposed   to   in   her   fantasy   …….   smh   .   she’s   too   busy   trying   to   be   ~cool   and   effortless~   that   she   sometimes   sabotages   the   things   that   would   bring   her   the   most   happiness   ,   then   blaming   herself   in   a   vicious   cycle   that   just   leaves   her   trying   to   distract   herself   w   crazy   antics   to   avoid   focusing   on   her   feelings   .

RANDOM BLURBS :    hates   men   n   regrets   all   attraction   to   them   .   thinks   all   women   r   too   good   for   her   .   convinced   she   will   be   a   useless   bisexual   forced   2   be   forever   alone

plays   guitar   as   a   mental   break   from   cello   and   loves   it   .   i’m   still   deciding   a   vc   for   her 

knows   the   beaches   in   maine   are   cold   af   but   wants   to   go   every   weekend   anyways

drives   the   most   impractical   soft   shell   jeep   which   sucks   in   the   east   coast   wind   and   snow   and   yet   it   is   somehow   exactly   an   embodiment   of   Her   Brand tm

like   5′9   tall   and   hates   wearing   real   people   shoes   she   said   berks   or   nOTHIN

wishes   she   could   go   vegan   but   is   so   bad   at   keeping   track   of   her   meals   she’d   forget   instantly   and   down   a   20   pack   of   chicken   nugget

too   mellow   &   apathetic   to   be   a   chaotic   neutral   but   too   adventurous   to   be   a   true   neutral   so   she   lives   somewhere   in   that   lawless   grey   space   skskskks

acts   REAL   california   for   someone   who   grew   up   exclusively   on   the   east   coast   ....   hm   .....   🤔

grew  up  disconnected  from  brazilian  culture  due  to  her  mom's  whitewashing  and  she  resents  it  greatly  .  can  understand  scattered  portuguese  but  took  spanish  in  high  school  so  that's  as  close  to  the  language  as  she'll  get  .  wants  to  take  lessons  online  tho  !

inspos r lila from umbrella academy , wynonna earp , beverly marsh from it , michelle manlon from derry girls , korra from lok , adora from she ra and the pop ,  and that ugly yellow overtone used in outer banks  💖 skskskks 

[forasecondtherewedwon]

21st Century Friction

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word count: 10,817 @spideychelleweek​

Spideychelle Week Day 6: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Peter needs an arts credit to graduate, but he didn't mean to pick the course that even the English majors avoid! Luckily, he has the help of Michelle Jones, the tutor Tony hired for him. Unluckily, she just overheard him insulting her entire academic discipline. They're not breaking off the arrangement―Peter's determined to do well in this stupid English course to keep his average up and Michelle won't let his bad attitude stand in the way of a cheque from Tony Stark.

With one tempestuous meeting down, they only have two semesters and twenty-five books to go.

Peter’s in big trouble―huge―and Mr. Stark did tell him that if he’s ever in trouble he should ask for help, so he calls, looking for help, and gets nobody, so he calls again and gets Happy, who hangs up once Peter makes him understand that, no, this isn’t about somebody trying to kick his Spidey-suit ass but about him trying to pick a new class (Happy’s next to some freaky machine at the time and it makes the cell reception wonky), but who finally listens all the way to the end on the seventeenth time Peter manages to get through to him without having his call dropped, and then Mr. Stark is told about it and though Peter isn’t immediately apprised of the solution to his own problem for some reason, he’s informed that cash has been flashed and that the solution will, inevitably, be attained.

Until then, Peter begins the first week of his third year of college and shows up to the labs and lectures of every class on his schedule, including English 1034: 21st Century Literature from A to Z.

AGUALUSA, José Eduardo ― A General Theory of Oblivion

“A tutor?” Peter hisses into his phone, pacing the tight corridor of the library’s fourth-floor stacks. “How is his solution to get me a tutor? I don’t need a tutor! I’m smart, Happy, remember? What did I want instead? Well, I don’t know! I have to keep all my core classes for my major, but maybe he could’ve made them give me credit for taking something online from another college? I’m not screwing up my schedule for English lit. I don’t even know why I gotta take this! I know how to read, you know? I’m just―”

Oh sure, he heard the other person enter the aisle, but he assumed it was to grab a book, so the noise of annoyance that leaves his mouth when his phone is snatched from his hand and his call ended is absolutely genuine.

“’Sup,” says the person, who’s a woman his age, who’s handing his phone back with a lazy gesture, who’s apparently entirely cool, casual, and unapologetic about unceremoniously hanging up on Happy for him. “You gotta take English lit because it sounds as though your vocabulary needs it and, hi, I’m Michelle. Your tutor.”

She mumbles an indelicate string of words after that as she turns and walks away from him out of the stacks and Peter picks up ‘entitled asshole’ even though he isn’t trying to listen, just follow her and set this thing straight.

“Uh, no, you’re not,” he assures her, alarmed when the place he’s trailing her to turns out to be a table where her stuff is waiting―open notebook, two different coloured pens, a copy of the syllabus for English 1034. No, no, no!

“Well, I can’t guarantee you’ll actually learn anything since you seem to have a combination of a pretty thick skull and an overinflated ego, but I’ll hold up my end of the deal. Let me guess, Business major?”

“Bio,” Peter grits out, grasping the back of the chair intended for him as this Michelle person slides neatly into hers, like the library’s her living room because she lives here. Fine. He’s happy for it to stay that way. He has access to all the books he needs in the sciences library on the other side of campus.

“Well, my condolences to the parts of your brain which, in most people, would produce non-literal comprehension and creative thought. But I’m sure you know the names for those, don’t you, Science Guy? Ok, quit making that face and let’s go over your syllabus.”

She doesn’t look up the entire time she speaks and Peter has never heard a person sound so pretentious in real life.

“Are you kidding me? No. Even if I wanted or needed to be tutored, it wouldn’t be by you. You grabbed my phone out of my hand!”

“Yeah,” Michelle agrees, meeting his eye with something firm in her own, “and you were talking on it in one of the library’s Quiet Zones. I’m not here to give you a lesson on Comparative Ignorance.”

“What makes you think you can just do that?” Peter demands. He feels sort of ridiculous and like he’s simultaneously taking the argument a step too far and a step not-far-enough; he’s not usually like this, but then, other people aren’t usually like that.

“The fact that I was paid in advance.”

She nods towards the chair and Peter doesn’t know why he does it, but he sits, still mad.

“Stark paid you to tutor me,” he states.

“Boy, are you struggling with the concept of exchanging currency for services too? Maybe there’s a basic Econ class you could still get into.”

“Why you?”

“Why you?” Michelle counters. “Why can’t smarty-pants, Stark-patroned Peter Parker just suck it up and get through a single English credit? Seriously, why not, since you seem to think it’s just reading and therefore easy. Why not just bribe the college to hand you the credit? You want me to tell you where the Financial Office is? I could show you because, ok, about me now, I’m here on scholarship because I couldn’t find a benevolent billionaire to smooth my path for me.” She straightens up in her chair, eyes practically volcanic with heat. “And here’s another why me for you: because I love what I study, I think literature has worth and beauty, and, oh right, I have the highest grade point average in the entire School of Arts and Humanities.”

Peter’s so floored for a minute that he forgets why he’s angry.

“It wouldn’t be right,” he finally says, trying to at least regain the moral high ground after her offhand suggestion of bribery. “Buying a credit. It wouldn’t be right.”

“So… instead you demean the entire discipline, like that’s going to help you.”

He scoffs.

“It’d help me more than you would.”

“Helping you is why I’m here.”

“You sound thrilled about it.”

“Hard not to be when I have the honour of tutoring the Spider-Man,” she says, matching his sarcasm.

Ugh, he hates that she brought that up. By his third year, he’s become less of a novelty in the halls―these days, people get more excited about a sighting of the local gopher who lives in a hole near the Astronomy building―and having it thrown in his face like this is even more uncomfortable than requests for selfies. Or the few mortifying pleas for his autograph. They’re locked in a mutually-irritated glare, which Peter breaks with a groan and a roll of his eyes.

“I didn’t want to be in this class,” he admits.

“And yet the online course selection process is so very hard to fuck up. Thus, you did in fact choose this class. Unless… does Tony Stark pick your classes for you?”

Peter ignores that. He can’t both fume and be cooperative enough to get her help, which he’s starting to think he might need. Maybe she can give him some kind of insider English department knowledge that will rid him of English 1034.

“It is an interesting choice,” Michelle continues carefully. Is she smirking at him? He can’t quite tell.

“I didn’t read the description.”

“What did you expect ‘20th Century Literature from A to Z’ to be?”

She’s mocking him, but Peter feels like his mistake in taking this particular class is an easy one to make. He has plenty of reasons to back him up.

“It’s a first-year level English course, it’s non-essay, and ‘A to Z’ made it sound like an overview,” he lists confidently.

“In case you don’t already know or suspect this, nobody who’s actually in the English program takes it.”

Michelle’s tone is extraordinarily smug.

“I thought you guys loved to read,” Peter says accusingly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Not a novel every week for two semesters! Dude, you picked a course with twenty-six required texts. ‘A to Z’ is for the alphabetical order of the authors’ last names.”

“I know that now,” he grumbles, eyeing the booklist Michelle has neatly aligned next to the syllabus on their study table. “And now all the other full-year non-essay English classes are full, so I can’t drop this one because there’s nothing to pick up in its place.”

“That’s an insanely stupid mistake.”

“Noted.”

“Ok, if you’re ready to move on, what were your thoughts on Agualusa?”

“You still want to tutor me?”

She looks at him like he’s truly the uncomprehending, unimaginative Bio-dunce she described.

“There are few things I want less than I want this. The only possible enjoyment here is getting to meet one of the unsuspecting idiots who signed up for that class, and even that doesn’t cancel out the way you belittled my area of study and those who study it. So.” Michelle extends a hand and, when Peter realizes what she wants, accepts his panic-purchased copy of A General Theory of Oblivion. “Time to prove you can read.”

BEATTY, Paul ― The Sellout

“I see you found the place,” Michelle greets without looking up from what she’s reading (which is the book for his course).

Peter attempts to glance around without being obvious about it.

“It’s the same table we sat at last time,” he says, mostly certain.

“I know.” She looks up. “I just thought you might get lost in unfamiliar territory. Had you ever been in here before last week?”

He laughs bitterly as he slings his backpack off and lets it slam into the leg of the table, making Michelle frown.

“Yeah, I had.” Once. When he toured the college with May before applying to undergrad. “Don’t be so gatekeeper-y. These books aren’t just for English majors.”

“Oh, so you avail yourself of them often for pleasure reading? Sorry, sorry,” she adds quickly and something inside Peter eases at the hope of an apology, “I forgot I was talking to the guy who signed up for the most reading-heavy class the English department offers. Of course you must love to read.”

“I just want to get my mandatory arts credit to graduate.”

The motive should be obvious, Peter thinks, but maybe she’ll take pity on him because he’s offering an explanation.

“You’ve already successfully postponed it your first two years. Why not push it to next year when you can take a lighter class?”

“There are a lot of required fourth-year courses for my major. I don’t have room for anything that isn’t impor―”

He cuts himself off, but Michelle looks pissed. What? It’s the truth! If he thought English was more important than Biology, he would’ve studied English!

“You’re trying to get me to wait for an easier class and you told me I shouldn’t assume English was easy,” he accuses.

“It’s not! I didn’t say an easier class, I said a lighter one. You know, with fewer books to read. English ten-thirty-four is an easy class.”

“Yeah right!”

“Really, Peter?” He’s startled to hear his name leave her mouth. “Exactly how deep were you expecting the analysis to go when you only spend a week on each book? That’s a Monday and Wednesday course, right? So you’re only actually discussing the book for three hours. A bunch of your assigned texts are over four hundred pages, which means covering around one hundred and thirty-three pages every hour of discussion, or a little over two pages every minute. And that’s just content. If you were actually digging into any of these books, you’d discuss themes, historical context of the subject matter, intertextual influence…”

“You’re pretty good at math,” he says wryly. “I bet you could have majored in that instead.”

“I could’ve majored in anything, but I chose a subject that actually has a soul.”

“It’s cute that you’re so noble about it,” Peter says, feeling like an honest-to-Thor asshole because he’s never disparaged anyone or anything by calling them or it ‘cute’ before, “considering the current arrangement.”

She gives him a harsh look before finally asking, “What do you mean?”

“You’re studying something so intellectual and culturally important or whatever and looking down at people in Business and the sciences. Lots of us love what we’re majoring in and some of us are in it for a career with a good salary. I’m just worried you’re being a bit of a hypocrite. How superior can you feel when you’re peddling your English-major wisdom for a paycheque from Tony Stark?”

Michelle can’t really murder him―his reflexes are too fast, his body too durable, and the most dangerous thing she appears to have at her disposal is a blue ballpoint pen��but she kinda looks like she might give it a try. Ok, so undercutting her integrity in a vengeful rant was probably beneath him. She was being such a snob though!

Finally, her expression relaxes and she uncaps her pen (Peter flinches), poising it over the page where, last week, she composed him a strong set of notes as they attempted a rocky discussion of the book.

“How much did you get read?”

CHOI, Mary H.K. ― Permanent Record

Peter sits and nods at Michelle when she looks up.

“We’re past the add/drop date,” he announces. “Guess I’m officially in English ten-thirty-four for the rest of the year.”

“And when you graduate, it’ll be right there on your transcript, smuggled through in between the important courses. Even if you can’t hack it and fail the class,” she concludes with a small, scornful smile.

“As far as I know, you’re being paid too much to let me fail.”

It feels like a gross powerplay the second he’s said it. If they’re really going to do this, he needs to start taking the meanspirited way that she roots against him in stride. Does he think about finding a different tutor every time she makes a sly comment like that? Sure, but he’s stubborn enough about maintaining a strong average to recognize the value of learning from the best student in the program.

“So…” he says after a minute, watching Michelle flip through his book to find where he’s marked the passages examined in class. “We never really agreed to it out loud, but I guess this is our standing place and time to do this?”

“Yeah, there’s a clipboard where you sign up to reserve a specific table. I put our names down for every Thursday for the rest of the year.”

“Really?”

“No, numbskull,” Michelle informs him lightly. “You can’t reserve a table, only the study rooms. I knew you didn’t know how the library worked.”

“How ‘bout, instead of that, we talk about the demands of fame.”

“Oh? Are you trying to open up to me?” She taps the end of her pen hard and fast against the table as though to emphasize this is something she doesn’t have time for.

“No. I did my assigned reading.”

He reaches out and grabs his book, dragging it back across the table.

DAY, Kate Hope ― If, Then

“I kept waiting for it to get good. Why didn’t it get good?” he asks, spinning the book on their table, then trapping it under his palm.

“Patience, spider-brain,” Michelle instructs. “It is good. It’s suspenseful and subtle and atmospheric and it’s no wonder those things went right over your head. Weren’t you at least interested in Ginny? She’s a surgeon.”

“So?”

“So, you’re in Biology. Don’t you want to be a doctor or something?”

“I don’t know yet,” Peter says with a shrug. Man, is she going to start bugging him about figuring out his career path? He has May for that. “Do you know what you want to be?”

“A tutor,” she responds flatly.

He’d smile if they were friends because she’s apparently hilarious.

“It takes some time to build if the part you’re most interested in is the sci-fi stuff,” Michelle concedes. “Did you read it to the end?”

“I didn’t have time. I had to start the next book early because I have a big lab assignment next week.” He sighs and lets his head fall into his hand just thinking about it.

She frowns and looks down, so he can only assume she disapproves of his priorities or his poor time management or something.

But then she mumbles, “You should try audiobooks.”

“Thanks,” Peter says, because that’s actually a great idea. He can listen on his way to campus in the mornings and he won’t have to carry the book on the days he doesn’t have that class. It’ll mean buying an audio copy of everything he already purchased, but he’ll still use the hard copies most of the time, and it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to begrudge him another hundred bucks. Plus, almost all of the books for this course are novels, so it won’t even feel like doing homework!

In the midst of excitedly thinking over how much time he’ll have if he takes her advice, he glances at Michelle. She’s ignoring him.

ENDICOTT, Marina ― Good to a Fault

It’s the first week of October and Peter thinks he has the hang of this being-an-English-student thing. He read-slash-listened-to the whole book this week and even though the next two weeks’ novels are a couple of the longest in the entire course, he’s undaunted. When he gets to the library and finds Michelle―the classes they have right before this tutoring session end at the same time, but she always beats him here―he brags about being totally on top of his reading. She’s possibly starting to smile at him when he says, “I’m getting good at this. You want any tips?”

“God, Peter!” she blurts. “This is the third year of my major! Try to have some fucking respect!”

He holds up his hands placatingly. Once his books are out, Peter starts watching her and notices a syllabus at her elbow that isn’t for English 1034. Aggressively highlighted in green is tomorrow’s date and ‘MIDTERM.’ His don’t start for another week. He never consciously realized that Humanities students had midterm stress too. Michelle must be taking more than one English class right now, plus whatever else fills up her schedule. Jeeze, that’s a lot of reading, and she’s reading enough of his books to help him on top of doing her own shit. Peter winces and keeps his mouth shut until she’s ready to begin.

FLYNN, Gillian ― Gone Girl

They’re in the thick of midterms and having a particularly grouchy (on both sides) tutoring session.

“Quit writing a bunch of nothing,” Michelle criticizes, like that’s somehow useful feedback.

“I’m getting to my point!” Peter complains.

“They’re long answer questions, not essays. You won’t get any pity marks for filler like you do in a Bio exam.”

“They don’t give marks for filler in Bio exams!”

“Well then where did you learn to answer questions like this?” she snaps. “Do you want to start this one over or try another one?”

They glare at each other for several sluggish moments.

“I’ll start over,” Peter decides, meeting her challenging look with his own.

“Fine.”

This time, Michelle not only passes him the question she came up with but also rips a piece of paper out of her notebook, tears it into thirds, and hands him one of those as well.

“One-sided,” she instructs.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Be concise.”

“If you took your own advice, I’d be able to write in silence right now instead of being distracted by the sound of you talking!”

In what seems like a blink as Peter looks up from his paper and tightly-gripped pencil in confusion, Michelle has her bag packed and shoves back from the table.

“Help me study!” he yells after her in desperation.

“Earn it with something more than money,” she calls back, flipping him off over her shoulder.

GO, Justin ― The Steady Running of the Hour

Groveling wouldn’t be well-received, Peter thinks. Instead, he brings Michelle an iced coffee as an apology for being a dick last week when he was freaking out over midterms. They’re experiencing a final flare of summer weather and it seems like a practical offering as well as a symbolic gesture. Unfortunately, the man at the front desk makes Peter toss the coffee before he’s allowed in because of a No Food and Drink policy. He feels really awkward about it and distinctly emptyhanded when he approaches Michelle at their usual table.

When it’s clear that she’s not focused on anything else, Peter spills the story and does end up saying, “I’m sorry” out loud. She likes one of those things enough to smile at him―not a big one, but not a sarcastic one either―and he exhales in relief.

“I really appreciate that you’re doing this,” he adds during a lull when they’re looking over the notes he made in class, trying to decipher his professor’s analysis of a certain passage.

He studies Michelle’s downturned face until she looks up and meets his eye.

“When do you get your midterm results?”

“Not for a couple of weeks. The prof doesn’t seem like he’s in any rush.”

“Are you worried about how you did?” she asks, propping her chin up with her fist. It makes her mouth slope into a playful pout and he follows the line of it with his eye for a second.

“Kinda.”

Michelle shakes her head.

“You shouldn’t be. You’re working hard. I know you passed.”

It’s the first session that they don’t fight. Feels good.

HAM, Rosalie ― The Dressmaker

“Holy shit,” he breathes when Michelle enters. “What is that?”

The day has finally come that he beats her to the library, which is the first shock, but this is an entirely separate and far less expected thing.

“It’s Halloween,” she states. As though it’s no big deal that she just walked in here wearing a silky-looking, floor-length, emerald green gown. Well, he assumes it’s a gown and not a skirt that sits really high on her waist, but he can’t see the entire thing; she’s wearing a cropped hoodie over top. The juxtaposition makes him grin.

“Where did you get that?”

“I made it.” Just as Peter’s mouth is dropping open, she huffs a laugh and says, “Of course I didn’t. It was my grandma’s. The style’s not totally right, but I thought the colour was a pretty good match.”

“Right,” he agrees as she swishes over and sits, cautiously smoothing the dress as she does so. “Because you’re obviously supposed to be…”

Michelle rolls her eyes as she takes the opportunity for illuminating him.

“Cecilia Tallis. From Atonement,” she prompts. “Keira Knightley played her.”

“Oh, ok, yeah. I think I saw part of that one time when my aunt May was watching it.”

“It was a book first,” Michelle teasingly informs him.

“I know you’ll be amazed to hear that I haven’t read it.”

“So amazed.”

“You look good in green,” Peter throws out there while she’s still looking at him.

“Don’t be weird about it, Parker.”

He totally sees her smiling to herself when they turn to their books and wonders if they’re friends yet.

ISRAEL, Lee ― Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Nope, nope, nope, they’re definitely not friends yet! After their revision session last week, Peter thought more about his and Michelle’s potential friendship, then started to feel weird about the fact that he’s paying her―or that Mr. Stark is, on his behalf. It’s been rare lately that both he and Mr. Stark aren’t busy at the same time, but with Peter’s midterms over and a new month beginning, Tony worked out a time for them to speak in person. Peter might have got rambling a little under the heady influence of his mentor’s full attention and maybe some things came across incorrectly. It wasn’t a meeting though, and he definitely didn’t know that decisions were being made!

“I thought you were finding this helpful!” Michelle says.

“I am,” he insists. “I left Mr. Stark a message. I’m gonna set it straight!”

“Oh, like you set it straight over the weekend? He fired me as your tutor!”

“I didn’t know he was doing that!”

“What did you say to him?” she demands.

Fuck, this is going to be embarrassing to say face-to-face. Peter glances at their table―where they didn’t sit down, due to this accidental termination―and feels himself get all overheated and shifty.

“That I felt weird about paying you.”

“Because English is so worthless you should be able to learn about it for free? Yeah, I guess you could’ve made the internet your tutor, but it’s a full two months too late for that!”

“Dammit!” Peter says, frustrated. “No! Because I thought maybe you and I were friends now because it seemed like maybe we were and I’d definitely like us to be friends, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated to be nice to me as a friend or anything more than a tutor just because you’re being paid. Do you want to be friends with me?” he summarizes bluntly.

“Yes.”

He frowns in confusion.

“Really?”

Michelle’s eyes dart to the side, then zip back to his face.

“…Isn’t that what you want? I think that’s literally what you just told me you want.”

“And the money thing?”

“Yeah, you’re definitely going to fix that as soon as we’re done today. My time and expertise are valuable as hell and I’m super willing to take Tony Stark’s money.” She gives him a weird look. “My friendship is not for sale.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to assume―”

“I mean, I don’t know how people make friends over there in Biology, but―”

“Ok, that’s far enough,” he says, laughing when she smirks to admit she was kidding.

“I guess you better start calling me MJ too,” she says, taking her usual seat.

“If I had any extra names you didn’t know, I’d totally let you use one in exchange.”

She shrugs easily and picks up this week’s novel when he places it on the table within her reach.

“Speaking of people using other names…” MJ says as she taps the cover. “Ready to talk about a famous forger?”

“Smooth transition.”

“Thanks… pal?”

“No,” Peter says to ‘pal,’ making a face.

“No,” she agrees. “I’ll just have to remember that we’re friends now without a new name to remind me.”

“You’re officially my meanest friend,” he jokes.

MJ snorts.

“Peter, with all the time we’re spending together this year, I’m gonna be your best friend.”

JOHNSON, Adam ― Fortune Smiles

“Seventy-three!” Peter cries out when he strides into the library that Thursday. Desk Man shoots him a look and Peter mouths, “Sorry.” But if that guy’s annoyance with Peter is on the rise, so is the strength of his friendship with MJ.

“Seventy-three?” she repeats excitedly, then pauses, seemingly waiting for him to say more.

He understands. For her, getting a 73 on an English exam would probably be a blow to her average and something she’d struggle to course correct from on the final. He’d feel the same about receiving that grade in one of the classes that make up his major. But for his first college English exam? A discipline that’s forcing him to learn a completely different type of material and regurgitate that knowledge on an exam that’s neither practical nor multiple choice? It’s huge. He beams to let MJ know he hasn’t come to complain about her ineffective tutoring. Totally the opposite.

“That’s great,” MJ says. She rises from her chair because Peter’s too hyper―even a full day after getting his mark―to sit down yet.

“Yeah?”

“I told you you’d do fine,” she reminds him.

Then she goes to shove his arm and Peter misinterprets it, pulling her in to finish what he thought was the beginning of a hug. Just as he’s realizing and loosening his arms from around her, MJ’s hands come up and squeeze his back once, ending in a few reassuring pats. They break out of it, holding each other at arm’s length and she gives him a firm nod in conclusion. Peter laughs awkwardly. After that, they re-establish their usual rhythm.

“So, the first short story collection on your booklist,” she says as she sits. Rather than taking his regular spot across from her, he drags the chair around the circular table so they’re side by side. MJ watches him without protest.

“These are the first short stories I’ve read,” he tells her.

“What did you think?”

“I like it. It’s nice how it breaks the book into chunks. Makes it seem shorter maybe?”

“Definitely.”

Weirdly, their opinions about the book and what his prof wants him to learn from it continue to closely align. Of course, they don’t get through everything because, after about 15 minutes, MJ asks if he brought his midterm with him. He yanks it free of his backpack and they spend the rest of their time going over it. With a 73, Peter expects a lot of the review to be criticism (of the constructive variety) and notes on what he should’ve done better or different. Instead, it’s MJ gasping (quietly but happily) every time she finds a place where he mentioned something they went over together. He watches her eyes scan over where he described If, Then as ‘suspenseful, subtle, and atmospheric’ before going further into his comparison between that novel and Gone Girl. She catches his eye, her expressions changing like a shuffling card deck. Peter sees impressed come up, then pleased, then a third, unfamiliar thing that’s gone when MJ flips his exam to the next page.

KOCH, Herman ― The Dinner

“How is this book so horrific and so good?” Peter asks wonderingly.

They were going over his class notes until the notes referred to a page number of the novel. When he couldn’t remember what happened there, they looked it up. It was just supposed to be a refresher, but it turned into them reading nine pages―waiting for each other before flipping when their reading speeds raced, constantly slipping out of and regaining first place.

“It’s giving me rage-hunger,” MJ said.

“Rage-hunger?”

“Yeah, you know, when you’re incensed about something to the point that you start getting really hungry? Happens to me at protests.”

“Listen,” Peter says, dropping his voice to a compelling whisper. “I have pretzels.”

“Here?”

He nods.

“Do we risk it?”

“Yes,” she insists.

While she keeps watch, glancing around, Peter grasps the edge of the pretzel bag in his backpack. His expression feels pretty constipated as he struggles to open the bag soundlessly, but it’s worth the effort when he feels it give. Furtively, they sneak pretzels from his bag―balanced between their legs under the table―up to their mouths, attempting to chew as silently as possible and speaking in a soft slur with pretzels distending their cheeks.

LINK, Kelly ― Get in Trouble

Yeah, so, after being caught with mouths full of pretzels, they’re slightly afraid to immediately return to the library. Instead of meeting there on Thursday to go over all of Peter’s notes at once, he and MJ snatch time all week long. It’s another collection of short stories this week, so they go over the first one before he even attends his Monday English 1034 lecture, meaning he’s super prepared to participate for once, after running his thoughts by his tutor in advance. The next time, they do story number two, plus his class notes, then continue meeting when they can.

Peter hesitates before asking if she still wants to get together at their regular hour on Thursday. What if she feels like she’s given him enough of her time this week? What if she made other plans? But when he does ask, she’s surprised that he ever considered them not having their scheduled session. He’s not entirely sure why he was so scared she’d say no. That was silly. Although they both acknowledged that they’re friends, he thinks they’re finally starting to act like it.

So they meet on Thursday. And then they meet on Friday too. They say it’s for tutoring and keep Peter’s copy of Get in Trouble between them on the table of the student community centre, but they don’t open it. MJ trades him a bite of her pizza slice for some of his fries. He laughs hard when she gets ketchup on her lip, then swallows the sound down as she licks it off.

“Did I get it?”

“Um, yeah,” Peter replies, stupefied.

MOYES, Jojo ― Me Before You

“Well,” he says, retyping his notes to add MJ’s insights, “here’s another one where I can count watching a movie as part of studying.” Peter keeps typing for a minute, but she doesn’t respond, so while his eyes remain on the screen he asks, “Are you judging me? I promise I’m still going to read the rest of the book.”

Finished, he looks over to see MJ staring intently at the open novel. Peter concentrates on the book first―she’s right near the end―then on his friend’s face. Is she…?

“Are you crying?” he asks softly, leaning towards her.

He thought she might hide her reaction, but she raises her head and sniffs as tears pour down her cheeks. She’s so naked with emotion that Peter shudders.

“Maybe,” she says, making them both laugh, hers a bubbling noise from the wetness in her throat. “But ignore this. I said I wouldn’t spoil the ending for you.”

“Obviously, nothing dramatic happens,” Peter sarcastically infers. “You cry all the time. I have zero reason to think it has anything to do with Me Before You.”

Smiling, she finally wipes the last of her tears away with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“I still have a little bit left to read.”

“Borrow it,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can listen to the audiobook for a while, or you can just keep it overnight and we’ll hang out tomorrow and I’ll get it back from you. Unless you think you’d need longer.”

MJ rolls her eyes at him.

“Please. I eat Jojo Moyeses for breakfast. I’ll probably finish it during the break in my next class.”

“So, you wouldn’t even need it overnight then,” he says, trying to be sly. She lets out a laugh.

“You want to read it so badly, don’t you?”

“Maybe I just don’t like lending out my books.”

“Liar. I bet you’re going to read the rest all in one sitting.” MJ smirks and stands the book on the table like both she and it are taunting him. “Don’t you need to prioritize your other courses, Peter? What about Biology?”

“Offer revoked,” he tells her, making to take the book back. She doesn’t let him, holding it up and away from him.

“Are you going to spend all night reading for pleasure instead of doing your science homework? Shame on you, Peter. What about your future?”

He stands too quickly in his attempt to grab the book, startling MJ, who rocks back in her chair a little too far. But it can’t tip faster than his reflexes can react; Peter instinctively grabs her around the waist and pulls her against him as the chair topples and the paperback hits the ground with a soft thump. They haven’t been this close since they hugged after his midterm results. He opens and closes his mouth without saying anything, fingers shifting against MJ’s back as she gets her balance. Seems to take her longer than it should, but he won’t let go before she’s ready. Which’ll be any second now, he’s sure. She’s flushed, eyes roaming his face. Probably about to tell him she can stand all on her fucking own.

Any second now.

NG, Celeste ― Everything I Never Told You

It’s the second week in December and their final tutoring session of the semester. Exams start tomorrow, though the one for English 1034 isn’t until the 21st. Peter should be psyched―after this exam, he’s halfway done the course―and yet his shoulders carry some heaviness into the library, along with big, wet snowflakes. He perks up at the sight of MJ, then grows subdued just as fast. They’ve become the kind of friends who meet during the week, always at school, usually with at least the pretense of studying. She’s never been to the apartment he shares with three roommates; he has no idea where she lives. Their most secure connection is a list of 26 books and after today’s session, 14 of those will already be behind them. Theoretically, they’re committed to spending another semester together (unless the world ends via hostile alien takeover, or Mr. Stark fires MJ again and she agrees to it for some reason). What happens after that?

Peter doesn’t like the way winter break looks like a preview for the end of the school year in April. He’s sure that’ll come up quick after the new year because second semester always feels shorter than first. Will they be close enough by then to make plans for hanging out over the summer? He knows MJ’s from here, but not if she’ll be around. And what about next year? He won’t be studying English. Are they gonna see each other on campus or both be too busy with their final year of undergrad―keeping up grades and searching for their first job opportunities right out of college? And then? Will one or both of them move away for work or grad school, or just to find a cheaper place to live while they’re starting out? Seriously, they could be faint memories to each other in under five years.

He's weighed down with all of this as he flops into his seat at their table.

“Do you think you’re ready?” MJ asks just before she glances up.

“What?” Peter replies, devastated.

“For your exam.” She meets his eye and her expression collapses inward a little as she assesses his mood. “What’s wrong?”

He looks at her face. It’s easy to admit to himself that her eyes are more trusting than they used to be when they stared back into his, and he has to allow that she’s more trusting too. Same with him. They’ve smoothed each other out, rounded off each other’s bluntest angles. Peter has no desire for them to ever have another shouting match like they did during the early weeks of this arrangement. In fact, his ideal dynamic for them would be the complete opposite.

“I guess I’m… worried.”

“We should get together next week.”

“That would be great,” he tells her with eager relief.

Wow, what would they do? Grab lunch? Dinner? Hot chocolates and ice skating at Rockefeller Center? A movie at his place? All of his roommates have early or no exams (lucky bastards) and plans to head home for the holidays right after, leaving him alone in the apartment.

“This is a late exam,” MJ says, doublechecking the date in her planner, which includes all of his deadlines (in red ink) alongside hers (in blue), “but the library’s open practically every day but Christmas.”

Oh. She means get together here. Of course. He didn’t really make it clear that the exam isn’t what he’s worried about, or at least it’s not the main thing.

“Well,” Peter says, “consistency.”

“What’s up with you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes are him, apparently not satisfied since he does still sound kinda bereft.

Retrieving his novel and his laptop, he says, “Nothing,” and thinks, I was just wishing we were more than friends.

OZEKI, Ruth ― A Tale for the Time Being

They hang out once before his exam, when MJ helps Peter with prep, and once after, when he’s getting a jump on his reading for semester two. The second time, totally by accident, she meets May.

MJ’s at his apartment for the first time and the two out of three of his roommates who’ve already returned are being loud enough that Peter can’t forget their existence the way he wants to (just for right now) and ignore everything in the world that isn’t his tutor/friend/person he’s been pining for every spare second since they’ve been apart. Two weeks is too long. They’re finally taking an honest crack at the novel he’s been assigned for next week, the first week back at school, when there’s a knock at the door, followed by cheerful hollering from his roommates. Peter knows who it is even before he rises and sheepishly lets his aunt hand him everything he forgot at home when he packed; his roommates love May.

Though he told MJ she didn’t have to get up, she’s suddenly next to him at the door―he’s startled to feel her briefly lean against him―then being pulled into a hug by his aunt. When she leaves for a minute to go to the washroom, May drags Peter away from his roommates.

“Who was that?” she wonders, face lighting up with curiosity and premature excitement.

He feels himself turn red and itches at his cheek like he can scratch the flush out.

“Just a friend.”

His aunt raises her eyebrows doubtfully.

PALAHNIUK, Chuck ― Choke

After spending last Thursday giving A Tale for the Time Being the attention they should’ve the week before, they’re back on schedule with a new book. Sort of back on schedule. They start off discussing the novel, but when Peter runs one of his prof’s assertions about it past Google, he finds out Choke has a movie version. He and MJ glance at each other. Yeah, why not? It’s only their second week back on campus and they don’t have their full studying stamina back yet. They trek down to the film library in the basement to see if they have a copy.

Soon, they’re wearing bulky borrowed headphones, hunkered down at the corner computer in the viewing lab that’s kept in the dark, watching a film about a sex addict. They’re awkward at first, or maybe it’s just Peter, but eventually he relaxes, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. MJ shifts around next to him. She kicks her shoes off and brings her feet up off the floor. They’re tightly side by side to watch the same computer screen, so when she crosses her legs, her knee lands on his thigh. Peter stares at it for a minute in the screen’s glow, missing the movie. He lays his palm on top of the rough, cool denim, and MJ turns her head to see what’s up. Immediately, he moves to withdraw his hand from her knee, but she pats the back of it, giving him permission.

Heart thumping, Peter eases the headphones off one ear. The room’s completely quiet, apart from the way MJ exhales heavily through her nose as she settles into position for the rest of the film. He swallows. He should tell her, right now.

“Hey, MJ…” he starts.

But she doesn’t look, doesn’t turn. Can’t hear anything outside those fucking headphones. Weirdly, she does glance at him a few minutes later, unprompted. She reaches out and pauses the movie. He lifts his headphones off when she does, eyes drawn to how they mess up her hair.

“Did you say something?” MJ asks.

Now, now, now, Peter tells himself.

“Uh, no.” He gives her a tight smile and unpauses Choke.

QUICK, Matthew ― The Good Luck of Right Now

“You have other friends, right?” Peter wonders aloud as MJ reads over the short responses he’s composed for an online participation thing that his prof made worth a truly stupid 4% of his grade.

“A couple.”

She says it straight, unembarrassed. He understands her well enough to know she has no interest in tricking people into believing she’s more social or at all inclined towards networking. Those people, whoever they are, were lucky to have her let them in. Abruptly, Peter realizes he’s probably being counted among them. He grins to himself.

“Plus, like, class friends.”

“Sure,” he agrees.

He does the same thing―always attempts to figure out who seems nice so he can try to be paired with them for group projects or have someone to sit with if they have another class together in the future.

“Any other kind of friends?” Peter asks tentatively. MJ quits reading his laptop screen and side-eyes him. “Like a… like maybe a boyfriend?”

It’s probably a no. It has to be a no. Even with the length of time it took for them to talk about their personal lives, she would’ve mentioned a boyfriend by now. Wouldn’t she?

“I… a boyfriend? No, I… Why would I have…? Do you?”

Well, this is a surprise. He expected her to either answer straightforwardly or question if he ever listens to what she says. But she’s oddly flustered and inarticulate. And blushing, Peter notices, though she won’t let him hold her gaze.

“No,” he says, settling for the single syllable that’ll do the job.

MJ sort of nods, then directs his attention to the screen.

“Just a question, but has anyone ever taught you how to use basic punctuation? Jesus, Parker.”

As much as that comment’s much more in character, every one of his senses screams, ‘MISDIRECTION!’

ROWELL, Rainbow ― Fangirl

“Say nothing,” MJ instructs when they run into each other in front of the library, coming from opposite directions.

About what? Peter wants to ask, but he doesn’t say even that much because the look on her face is intense and because the wind is icy, slicing their faces with snow that’s more like sharp daggers. He bounds up the stairs next to her and straight inside when she jerks the door open with her mittened hand. All the way upstairs and to their table, he keeps wary eyes on her. He only looks away for a minute to set his backpack down and shrug out of his outer layers; the library’s kept almost stiflingly warm and dry. They pile their wet outerwear on one of the extra chairs, then MJ glares at him before he can sit. He stares back, baffled.

“Nothing,” she reminds him, and unzips her hoodie.

Does he look silly with the way his jaw drops? He can’t even care. She’s wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt.

“I―”

“No words. No sounds of any kind.”

So Peter grins in silence and retrieves the usual studying accessories from his backpack. Eventually, MJ groans out her admission.

“I forgot to do laundry.”

He continues to say nothing about the shirt, even when he is permitted to speak so they can discuss his reading. What he wants to say isn’t something she’d like―that he’s deduced from the laundry comment that this is an old shirt, not a recent buy. Meaning she’s had it since who knows how long before she ever met him. Meaning she’s a fan.

SENNA, Danzy ― New People

“How are you liking the course?” MJ asks him out of the blue. She’s tracing the curving shapes and purple letters on the cover of this week’s book with her fingertip.

Peter laughs.

“My prof’s never even asked us that.”

“That’s because profs don’t want honest answers. Only in essays, and even then, you have to pad them with all the shit the prof said in class in order to stroke their ego into giving you a good mark.”

“Cynical.”

She smiles dryly.

“Thank you. But really, how are you finding it?” She looks nervous about how he might answer.

“A lot of work,” he says honestly, “but it also feels like less work than my other courses.”

“Because it’s a fluff discipline compared to Biology?”

“Stop it, no, because you’re helping me. It feels like something I’m doing for fun.”

“Who are you?” MJ shakes her head, wearing a smug smile. “If the you from September could see you now. Oh, actually, that reminds me. Put your number in.”

She hands him the new phone she mentioned she’d be getting last weekend.

“What did you have me saved as in your old one?” he asks, adding his number to a new contact page. MJ takes the phone back before he can input his name.

“Oh, you don’t want to know.” He’s fairly certain she’s joking.

“Did it contain the word ‘dickhead’?”

She shrugs and slouches in her chair, phone held low and close. She finishes entering his information out of his line of sight.

“You’ll never know.”

Maybe not, Peter thinks, when MJ gets up a while later to refill her water bottle, but he can at least check what she has him under now. She left her phone out on the table, screen up, so he texts her an innocuous ‘testing, testing’ and watches for the new message to pop up.

Evidently, he’s in her phone as his normal name. His name, plus a heart. His real one’s suddenly beating very fast.

THIEN, Madeleine ― Do Not Say We Have Nothing

It’s almost Valentine’s Day and their college’s week-long study week, two compelling reasons for Peter to tell Michelle Jones―tutor, friend, precariously deepening crush―how he feels about her.

Before their tutoring session, he psyches himself up in the bathroom mirror, until other people walk in and he has to pretend to be coughing. He doesn’t really feel ready and their time together ends up being sort of a flurry anyway because part of the library’s being painted and there are fewer tables. With a ton of people on the cusp of more exams and big assignments due before the break, it takes Peter and MJ a while to find a table. Even after that, the paint smell gradually fills the air, forcing them to stop early.

God, and he didn’t say anything!

“We should meet up later,” he asserts firmly, at the same moment MJ says, “Try again tonight?”

“Yeah,” they say together.

Peter grins and she smiles back before quickly ducking her head. He bites his lip, restraining himself from catching her chin with his fingers and tilting it up.

“Ok then,” he says. “Ok. The library’ll probably still stink, so… my apartment?”

“Or my place,” MJ offers, slightly wide-eyed.

“Oh, yeah. That would be, that’d be good.”

“You can walk back with me, if you don’t mind waiting for my class.”

He doesn’t, and they do that, and as MJ’s unlocking the door to her apartment, he finds out two things: that she has a roommate and that her roommate’s staying the night at her boyfriend’s. Whatever, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be romantic or anything. They’re discussing art and politics during China’s calamitous Cultural Revolution. There’s no way MJ would even be thinking about… but then she leads him to the couch instead of the kitchen table. And she sits down next to him, letting their thighs touch. And his breathing just isn’t steady for the hangout that goes two hours before they even think to check the time. So many times, he has the feeling they’re one brush of their legs, one bump of their shoulders, one tuck of her hair with his fingers away from something more, but every chance seems to come and go while the tension stays.

Eventually, Peter gathers his stuff and lingers with her in the open doorway of her apartment. She’s leaning into the frame, smiling at him as he says a bunch of nothing, just to make the night last longer. He takes a breath. Ok, he’s gonna do it. He’ll tell her.

The next second, MJ’s pressing her mouth to his. Then, while he’s still dazed from the kiss, she pushes him out the door and says, “Um, see you after study week, Peter.”

URQUHART, Jane ― The Night Stages

What’s this mean? Peter wants to ask her, right after the kiss and for the whole study break. Except he’s in the city, doing Spidey-patrol and finishing the nearly-500 pages of Do Not Say We Have Nothing, and she’s in New Orleans, building affordable housing with a charity. When he texts her because he can’t resist asking how she is and what she’s working on that day, she always gets back to him, but there’s nothing flirtatious in her words, nothing to assure him she shares his preoccupation over the kiss. So startling, so make-the-hair-stand-up-on-the-back-of-his-neck. And it was supposed to make everything clear, when one of them made a move (in his head over the weeks before it happened, it was him), not confuse the hell out of him.

It's awkward when they meet on campus on Monday. Neither of them goes in for a hug and they carry on a stilted conversation about how each of their breaks went, Peter twisting his fingers around in his sleeves. At least they didn’t postpone this until Thursday. He senses that they’re both thankful for the length of this week’s novel and how many times it guarantees they’ll meet (their productivity per session definitely took a nosedive when they became friends). He assumes the relief comes from wanting to push past this awkward stage by getting used to each other again. Then, when they meet in the library the next day, MJ picks a different table. Actually, a completely different floor. It’s basically dead, no other students or staff in sight, and, with his face flushed with desire and anticipation, she braces a hand on his thigh, leans in, and kisses him for the second time.

On Wednesday, it’s the same spot (but later because Peter has an evening lab) and he initiates, hand on the back of her neck as they kiss slow and deep, never even unpacking their bags.

Thursday, they meet at their old table, like normal, and do some actual work. But that night, he walks MJ home and tries to give her a goodbye kiss that turns into them making out with her pressed up against the closed door of her apartment.

They agree, on Friday morning, that Peter really needs to devote some concentration to this novel, so they study at his place that evening. Because all of his roommates are home, they’re camped out in his room, on his bed, but with his door wide open. The most they attempt is holding hands, anxiously separating when one of his buddies pokes a head in to ask if Peter’s seen his phone charger.

By Saturday, at her apartment, they abandon pretenses, though they haven’t exactly said in words what it is they’re doing without those pretenses. Are they friends who kiss? Are they dating? Is MJ his girlfriend? None of that is as pressing as pulling her onto his lap and kissing her until they’re tired and she checks her phone to see that it’s almost two in the morning. Reluctantly, MJ climbs off his lap and Peter watches her disappear into her bedroom. He strips off his jeans and falls asleep on her couch wrapped in a blanket and his school hoodie.

The next morning, they look over his notes because he’s here and they might as well. Their socked feet overlap beneath her kitchen table. She refills his glass of orange juice before he notices it’s almost empty.

VÁSQUEZ, Juan Gabriel ― The Sound of Things Falling

He’s in love with her. It’s the beginning of March, the air has quit biting, MJ’s blushing when he uses his high school Spanish to correctly pronounce the characters’ names, and he’s in love with her.

WALKER, Karen Thompson ― The Dreamers

Peter falls asleep at her place again. This time, MJ’s tucked into him when he wakes up. Gradually, he drags up a fuzzy memory of her padding into the living room during the night, putting him on alert until she nudged him over to make room on the couch. Her roommate’s home. They don’t care, don’t flinch apart when she walks into the room. He hangs around most of Saturday, only leaving because he really needs to do some work on his other courses. MJ kisses him when he goes, gently stroking his earlobe with her thumb.

X ― N/A

“No X?” she checks. “Are you sure?”

“It’s on the syllabus,” Peter points out, pulling MJ’s feet across his thighs as he eats an apple. They found an alternate study spot that allows food.

“Yeah, I know, I have the copy from the beginning of the year, but I figured your prof would update it to add something.”

“I think he told us one time that he was going to,” he says, trying to remember exactly. “Now, he says he was always planning on leaving this week free for us to ask questions in class before the exam.”

“But there are still two full weeks of classes before exams,” MJ says skeptically. “If this break was intentional, he’d do it the last week of classes instead.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know there are two weeks left, but I don’t know what else to say. No X.”

“Semi-related,” she prefaces, giving him a serious look that makes Peter pay attention, “is it ok with you if I consider you my boyfriend?”

He laughs until he realizes she looks genuinely unsure of what his answer will be.

“Please.”

Peter holds his apple out of the way when MJ wiggles forward to hug him.

YAZDANIAN, Showey ― Loopholes

“You wanna go somewhere with me?” MJ asks.

Peter knows she’s been watching him rearrange the digital copy of his notes―simplifying and streamlining so they’ll be easy to study from between now and the date of his final exam. It’s very comforting, her undemanding gaze, and he feels himself emotionally stretching into it, like a cat. He loves to be near her. His girlfriend.

“Yes,” he says. “I mean, where?”

She laughs gently at him and props her elbow on the table, right next to his.

“The English Department scheduled a year-end trip to see a play.”

“That sounds very… high schoolish,” he decides, grinning.

“Hey, some of us aren’t too up our own asses to understand the thrill of a field trip. Maybe in Biology―”

“Ugh,” Peter groans jokingly at her relentless, unserious digs at his chosen discipline.

“―you’ve lost your sense of childlike wonder.”

“But I might be able to get it back if I go to this play? What’s the play?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” she mumbles.

“You want to see that? It’s depressing and, and overdramatic,” he states, though he’s never seen it performed, and definitely never read the play.

“I don’t really care about seeing the play,” MJ says as she gives him a meaningful look.

“Oh. Aw.” He smiles at the thought that she just wants to spend time with him. “Do I have to sign up or something?”

“I… might have already signed you up.” Peter raises his eyebrows at her and it’s enough to push her to continue. “It’s supposed to be an internal thing, just English majors, but the turnout for anything with any significant cultural value’s always really low―” MJ rolls her eyes. “―especially right at the end of the year, when people are starting to focus on exams, even though it’s a great opportunity to see a high-quality production with cheap student-group-discount tickets. Anyway, I talked to the prof because he knows me from teaching me last year and asked if you could come because you are taking an English class even if you’re not majoring.”

“He agreed?”

She nods.

“As I suspected, there were a bunch of tickets left over because they always reserve too many. They’re great seats.”

“Why are you trying to convince me to come?” Peter teases. “Apparently, I already signed up.”

Despite the dozens of times they’ve met this year, comprising probably a hundred hours, and the affectionate admissions, and the kissing that’s been driving him insane for more, this is their first date date. He’s excited to be at the theatre because he’s never gone before, and he purposely didn’t tell Mr. Stark about this so he wouldn’t try to pay for it; Peter bought his own ticket. They’re deep into the second part of the play, intermission behind them, and before things can get gruesome on stage with the stars meeting their violent ends, he leans in so close to MJ that his nose brushes her ear.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispers.

She turns her head, smile clamped together by the way she’s biting her bottom lip. There’s joy in her eyes that makes his heart drop and flip and soar back up, too high, into his throat. He’s still looking at her when she turns her face back to the performance.

“Also, I love you,” Peter says, almost choking on his heart.

Swiftly, he kisses her cheek and settles back into his seat, but MJ tugs the hand that’s been entwined with hers since they sat down. She leans across the armrest between their seats and he’s happy to move the rest of the way. Something hot courses through him when she not only kisses him more roughly than he anticipated but grabs the tie he wore with his button-up, blazer, and good jeans. When she releases him with a smirk and a pat on his chest, Peter practically collapses back into place, stunned.

“Oh,” MJ adds, glancing at him again in a quick flick, “I love you too.”

ZOBOI, Ibi ― Pride

There are three stacks of books on the surprisingly nice hardwood floor of MJ’s bedroom. It’s small compared to the size of his sense of accomplishment for seeing this demanding course through to the end. Although this is the first time Peter’s assembled all 25 books at once, they aren’t organized alphabetically; there’s a pile each for books he remembers well, those he wants to reread sections of, and ones where, logically, he knows he read them, and yet he can barely recall the plot. He feels pretty goddamn good about the fact that, out of 25, only 2 made the third pile. Actually, one’s unaccounted for, because it’s the last book on his syllabus and it’s currently dangling from his hand while he takes a break from reading it.

“Hey,” he hisses at MJ.

Lying on her back on her soft, thick rug while she studies for one of her exams, his girlfriend angles her head to look at Peter, hanging over the side of her bed.

“What?”

He grins.

“Nothing. Just wanted to say, ‘hey.’” He’s so used to her rolling her eyes. “How’s the floor?”

“Not bad.”

“You wanna come up here?”

MJ eyes him suspiciously.

“I need to study,” she reminds him. “Everything I know about your books got mixed up with everything I’m supposed to know about my books and I’m still mentally untangling.”

Peter keeps staring down at her, trying to make his eyes wide and pleading. It takes her seconds to give in. She groans as she starts to sit up, appearing to lead with her knees and elbows as she rearranges her limbs, collapsing and unfolding like a portable lawn chair. MJ steps gingerly over his book stacks, then he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her to the bed, where she flops down beside him. Her head’s facing the wrong way though, so Peter shuffles around, getting her socks out of his face. They take turns sighing tiredly―the extreme burdens of another year of lectures over and another round of exams about to begin―then Peter tilts his forehead to touch hers.

“Happy you’re almost at the end?” MJ asks softly.

“Yeah, but I also kinda wish I could take another English class next year. I think I actually did better in Bio this year because I got to take a break from it with something that was totally different. Does that sound possible?”

“Mhmm.”

She lets her eyes close―probably resting them after concentrating for so long.

“I’ll miss reading this much.”

“And?”

With her eyes shut, only her eyebrows prompt him to go on.

“And I’ll miss talking about what I read with you,” he says.

“Maybe you don’t need to worry about that,” she suggests.

“Why not?”

MJ smiles.

“Because I’ve been working on a new list of books I think you’ll like since October. We can meet in the library and talk about them.”

“Every week?” Peter checks. “What about Biology?”

“If you have time,” she clarifies.

“No, I mean I’ve spent a year studying English lit, learning about your discipline.” With a grin, he trails his fingers down MJ’s throat, stopping at the neck of her long-sleeved shirt. “So, I was just wondering, if you’d be interested in studying Biology.”

He kisses her neck where he stroked, then up beneath her jaw, making MJ laugh until she gasps instead, gripping his hair.

“I don’t think we should wait for September.”

“Well, you’re still the tutor for another week,” Peter reminds her. “I’ll follow your lead.”

[beckzorz]

No Fair (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 1672 Summary: A quiet night at the compound leads to a game to pass the time. You play to win. A/N: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​’s drunk drabbles, it just got a little out of hand haha! Can of tuna is a reference to the best prank fic of all time by @kentuckybarnes, Troublemakers in her Agent 28 series. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

A lazy evening at the compound. Half the team is away, split between charity work, political stuff, family obligations, and actual missions—but given that it’s the coldest week of the year with the remains of a nasty blizzard to boot, it’s pretty quiet even with Sam and Bucky both in the building.

You’d never expected such trouble from Captain America, nor the Winter Soldier. But in the never-ending prank wars that naturally occur when a bunch of high-energy superheroes spend copious amounts of time together, it’s always the Sam-and-Bucky team who do the most devastating work. You’ve yet to see them prank each other. Give each other shit? Absolutely. But words and the occasional punch or kick or chokehold is as far as their back-and-forth griping ever goes.

Admirable, really. If you were in Sam’s shoes, you’d do just about anything to get Bucky as flustered as he gets whenever someone pulls a good one over on him. Gosh, he’s so cute when his cheeks go all pink…

You shift in your seat at the end of the couch, ducking your head to hide your own suddenly warm cheeks as Bucky passes by, a fresh bottle of beer in hand. He glances down at you.

And pauses.

“What?” he asks.

“Um.” You swallow and shoot a shy smile up at him. “Just thinking it’s, ah, pretty quiet around here.”

“It’s almost insane how well-behaved you’re all being,” Rhodey remarks. “This is usually about the time someone discovers some fish in their underwear or something.”

“Hey!” Sam snaps. He jabs a finger Rhodey’s way, eyes narrowed. “That was one time.”

You snicker. “That’s what you think.”

“Oh really?” Sam says.

“Well…”

“Oh god, not the fuckin’ fish thing again,” Bucky groans. He flops down beside you on the couch, close enough that you can feel his body heat. “That shit stinks. Literally and figuratively. Listen—” he turns to you, curling his hand on the back of the couch just by your shoulder, his eyes wide and his face deliciously earnest— “I will actually give you money to never use fish in a prank again.”

You can’t help but grin. If Bucky’s noticed how warm your cheeks are, he doesn’t show it. “And I just bought that can of tuna, too.” You sigh dramatically. “Oh well. I guess when you ask so nice, I have to accept.” You thrust out your hand. “Pay up, Barnes.”

Bucky’s smiling now too. He shifts, digs his wallet out of his back pocket—god, how nice would it be to do that yourself?—and pulls out two twenties.

“Does this satisfy?” he asks, voice low.

“It’ll do,” you say. You swallow again—your fingers brush his as you accept his gift, and you stuff it in your own back pocket hastily. Bucky heads back to his seat, cracks open his beer with his left thumb, and takes a swig, his bright eyes fixed on your face.

You look away, shaken. Shaken, tingling, wanting.

“It’s almost too quiet,” Sam muses.

“Yeah, we should do something,” Rhodey says. “There’s four of us…”

“I think Wanda’s around here somewhere,” Bucky pipes up. The burn of his gaze drops from your face, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Oh, fantastic.” Sam grins. “How about we play hide and seek?”

“Excuse me?” you blurt. “That’s going to be insanely boring. This place is big enough for even me to hide effectively for, well, maybe five whole minutes.”

Bucky laughs, loud and clear and bright, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to look at him.

“Fine,” he says, and you can hear his grin. “How about a tracking game? We start in different parts of the compound and track around until we spot other people before they spot us.”

“And people who don’t mind just chilling out in a hiding spot and reading a book can just read, if they want,” Rhodey throws in.

“Sure, whatever, but how do you win?” you ask.

“Winning is overrated,” Sam says sagely.

“You only say that ‘cause I always beat you at cards,” Bucky says, and you finally look at him, grinning. He blinks, cheeks pink, and continues. “I guess, uh, whoever finds the most people wins? And yes, there might be a tie. Think you can handle it?”

“Ha! Yes, I think so.”

“Great,” Sam says. “So, where do we start?”

—

You position yourself in the best starting point. Rhodey’s starting in the rec room, Sam in the garage, Wanda will be in the residential wing, and Bucky’s in the basement commercial-sized kitchen. A ping from FRIDAY signals the start of the game, and you dash off to the right.

You’re less than sixty feet from the room with the security feeds. Amazing, really, that no one seemed to sense what you were up to when you volunteered to start on the roof.

Plus, you had plenty of time to stop by your room.

At the door to surveillance room, you look up and down the corridor. Empty. Perfect. Out come your lockpicks, and more importantly the device—a legacy of Tony Stark’s, may his memory be a blessing—that can crack through the electronic parts of the locked door in seconds. You slip inside and let out a slow breath.

The agent at the desk, Michelle, has her hand over the alarm button. She shakes her head at you.

“You could’ve knocked, y’know,” she says.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” you point out. You slide into the second chair and watch the screens for your teammates. Yes, there’s Wanda passing through the rec room you’d been hanging out in before, Bucky heading down the hallway from the kitchen to the garage. No evidence of Sam or Rhodey, not yet.

“What’s going on?” Michelle asks. “Are you guys playing hide or seek or something?”

“Or something,” you say. You send a sly smirk her way. “Wanna help me win?”

Michelle rolls her eyes and holds out her hand. “Pay up.”

A beleaguered sigh, and you fork over the forty dollars from Bucky. Michelle knows. She always knows.

But it’s worth it. Fish does smell bad, and Michelle hands you an earpiece so she can direct you around.

“It’s like playing a video game,” she declares, grinning up at you. “But my PC can talk back.”

You do an awkward run to the door, mimicking the video games you’ve seen Michelle play.

“At your command,” you intone, and then you’re out the door.

—

Michelle sends you after Bucky first. Because of course she does.

“You know you appreciate it,” she teases. “I’m amazed you haven’t made a move yet. Ah, go around the other way. Colonel Rhodes is hiding in that room.”

You nod and slip around another way as you head towards the garage. Bucky’s still there, going through the cars one-by-one.

Once you’re out of Rhodey’s earshot, you say, “I don’t know how he can be so methodical for a game like this.”

“You don’t get a reputation like his by not putting in the effort,” Michelle points out. “Besides, you literally broke into the surveillance room. No one else has done that so far.”

“If anyone does, please push the emergency button. I’m begging you.”

Michelle groans. “You’re relentless.

You’re grinning as you pad silently down the garage stairs—still in your slippers, with the soft soles that are silent on the concrete. And the garage is silent, too. Not that you’d expect to be able to hear Bucky moving around.

“Four rows to the left,” Michelle murmurs in your ear. “And keep low til then. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

You move quick, stance low, past three rows. Let out your breath silently, wait for a signal.

“Now!” Michelle whispers.

You pop up from behind a red convertible, spot Bucky with his face against the dark glass of the next car over, and whoop with glee.

Bucky spins so fast he nearly trips over his feet. He catches himself on the convertible, tightens his hold—and then he sees it’s you, and his whole body goes lax.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he says. He runs his free hand through his hair, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “You scared the crap outta me.”

“Well, this is a win for me, then!” You lean against the windshield, grinning and unable to stop.

His smile softens as he looks at you. “How the heck did you sneak up on me, anyway?”

“Huh? Oh!” You turn your head so he can see the earpiece tucked in your ear. “I’ve got Michelle on the line.”

“Michelle from security?”

“That’s the one!”

“So you cheated,” Bucky states. He slowly moves around the car, his hand lingering on the doors, the edge of the trunk. You step back as he closes in, heart hammering in your chest.

“No, I improvised. There’s a difference.”

He snorts. “Well, it’s still not what I’d call playing fair.”

“I don’t play fair, Bucky,” you say. You lift your chin, meet his gaze. “I play to win.”

“Well,” he says. He takes one step closer, and you’re caught with a column at your back and Bucky less than a foot away. His lips curve up as he curls his hand around the nape of your neck. “You’ve won me over.”

“A-ah?” You’d answer, but you’re struck dumb. He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you’re drowning in those sky-blue eyes, falling, falling…

“Hate to break up a tender moment here,” Michelle announces.

Bucky’s eyes widen. From so close, he can hear her no problem. He drags his hand away from your neck, but doesn’t step away. You bite your lip, still frozen in place.

“Sam got bored of hiding,” Michelle goes on. “He’s heading your way.”

Bucky twines his fingers in yours.

“So,” he says. He presses his forehead to yours, breathes you in. “Shall we go win your game and celebrate later?”

You squeeze his hand, the promise of later thick and charged and already tasting delicious.

“Yes.”

[you-guys--are-losers]

Can you write a fic about MJ ranting to Betty about her crush on Peter

//You know I can, and I will. ;) I actually even have a part two planned for this, so thanks so much for a prompt that I know I can build off of! I’m really excited to dig into this. 

a momentary lapse

summary: when mj gets stuck waiting out a psychotic water monster, she finds her tongue is as slippery as the venetian streets when it comes to peter parker. 

characters: michelle jones x peter parker, betty brant x ned leeds, flash thompson, abe brown, cindy moon, mr. harrington

word count: 2,730

warnings: mildly homicidal tidal wave, teenage angst, unintentional fluff

mj is the first to admit it: she doesn’t exactly have the best track record with school trips

there was the decathlon trip to d.c., for starters, in which their team single-handedly blew a hole in one of america’s monuments to its morally-grey history (not such a bad outcome) and got themselves stuck in a burning elevator (admittedly, a problem) 

then there was the fact that they screwed up so bad spider-man found it necessary to haul ass all the way out to washington (although mj has her own opinions on that particular coincidence– but that is a discussion for another time) 

at the time, mj had figured that one near-death experience on a school trip would be enough for a lifetime

so, when the literal ocean decides to attack them in venice, mj will admit that she is caught slightly unprepared

she first realizes what’s going on when there is a near miss involving ned, betty, and a gondola

the soaking wet couple stumbles out of the boat, and then they are ushered into the crowd, along with mj, searching for somewhere sheltered from the water in the city that is literally built into the sea

there are bodies pushing around them on every side, all of the people struggling to get away from the murderous lazy river that is trying to drag them into the depths

“flash, stop video-taping this!” shouts abe over the ruckus, causing mj to glance over her shoulder at her classmates

“someone needs to know that the ocean is attacking us!” flash shouts back in response, adding, “it could be aliens, or-” 

“or maybe you should put away the phone and concentrate on running for your life!” cindy snaps, shoving her way past flash

“alright, children, please stay calm,” mr. harrington calls in a shrill voice that is decidedly not calm, “everything is going to be alright. emergency services have been contacted-” 

“and how are they gonna get here?” flash asks shrilly, adding, “oh, right. by boat!”

at that moment, the group turns down another alley, meeting with another rush of people running for their escape

mj doesn’t realize that she is being separated from her companions until it is almost too late

at the last second, her hand shoots out and grabs betty’s

mj links her fingers together with the girl’s, her eyes meeting the panicked gaze of the blonde

when she turns to look for the rest of the group, mj finds that they are gone, swallowed up in a crowd of unfamiliar faces

the shoving is getting worse, and for one dangerous moment mj fears that she is going to slip on the cobblestones and end up underfoot; then, her eyes find a sheltered side street behind a cafe, as well as a dumpster they should be able to use as shelter

mj tugs fiercely on betty’s hand to get her attention, and the girl’s panicked gaze locks on hers, goes to focus on the hiding spot, then travels back to mj’s own eyes with new understanding

after mj is sure betty understands, she pulls herself free of the crowd, holding tight to her classmate as she makes a beeline for shelter

betty weaves through the crowd quickly, and in a flash the girls find themselves crouched beneath a tall, cardboard box leaning against the trash, breathing heavily

for a moment, that’s all either can do: squat under the cardboard, fighting to catch their breath and still their pounding hearts

and then, betty begins rifling through her soaking purse for her phone, breathing, “we need to call someone. mr. harrington, or maybe flash, or… ned!” 

betty’s voice goes shrill on the final name as she releases mj’s hand, bringing both hands to cup her cheeks

“i can’t believe i lost him! oh, my gosh… what if something happens to him? i need to text him, or else he’s going to worry.” 

before she can look for her phone again, mj rests a hand on betty’s arm

“you should probably wait,” mj reasons slowly, “i’m sure he’s running, like the rest of them. you don’t want him to stop and look at his phone when you call, or else he might get hurt. he needs to focus.” 

“you’re right,” betty pants, running a hand through her soaking wet hair. “i just can’t believe… well, i’m sure you know how it feels. you have brad to worry about.” 

something strange tingles in mj’s stomach in response to what her classmate has said, and mj finds her eyes widening

“what?” she questions, eyes narrowing slightly as she presses, “wait, there’s– there’s nothing going on between me and brad. i don’t feel… no, it’s not like that.” 

betty’s eyes are surprisingly sharp as she fixes them on mj, raising an eyebrow

“oh… okay,” she says slowly, though her voice sounds rather unconvinced

“i just thought, because you’ve been sitting next to him on the plane and the bus and stuff-” 

“um, yeah, we’re just friends,” mj responds quickly, tucking a curl behind her ear and turning to watch the crowd outside of the alleyway

the sound of rushing water and screaming is all that can be heard between the two of them for a moment, and mj does not look away from the chaos out there

even if they’re safe, their classmates might not be, and then there’s peter–

well, at least, she thinks there is

but if mj is anywhere close to being right, then he is far too close to that thing for comfort, and the very thought sends her stomach lurching. 

“well, who is it, then?” 

betty’s question causes mj’s gaze to snap to the blonde immediately, dragging her out of her thoughts. 

“um, no one,” mj replies quickly

“you’re looking awfully worried for that to be true,” betty reasons, eyes narrowing slightly

mj hasn’t noticed it before, but there’s just a little too much sharp cunning in them for her liking

“i mean, half our class is out there,” mj reasons, but betty raises a hand to stop her

“we both know that you would probably throw a party if flash drowned, and you just said yourself that there’s nothing between you and brad,” betty counters firmly 

mj averts her gaze, fixing it determinedly on the cobblestones between them 

“venice was traditionally a city of people running from something,” mj pipes up after a moment, the words coming in a quick, focused, stream

“people only started living here when rome fell and a bunch of warrior clans were like, ‘hey, cool, we’re just gonna start attacking things.’ so all the people were like, ‘shoot, better go somewhere they can’t reach us. well, these guys suck at building boats.’ so… venice. kind of ironic that people came here because they were running away, and now that we’re here we’re all running away, too. it’s like poetic justice, kind of showing how no matter how much you do in life, you’re never gonna change much-” 

“you can’t distract me with your existentialism,” betty interrupts

mj falls silent immediately, cursing mentally as she listens to the sound of the gears turning in betty’s brain

“i know you’ve got someone,” betty continues

the statement is simple, declarative, and it doesn’t really demand more, and in the quiet that stretches between them, mj finds herself feeling drained and exhausted

they’re miles and miles away from home, crouched behind a dumpster while a popped water wiener is terrorizing venice

peter parker is probably fighting that thing right now in his onesie, and mr. harrington is talking to their travel planners on the phone about whether or not there’s a discount for situations where the canals literally come to life

flash is without a doubt live streaming the whole thing

in the wake of all that, mj figures, what does it matter? 

she’s been hiding her stupid feelings for years, and no one’s figured it out; she might as well give just enough information to appease betty, and there’s no need to mention names

there’s no reason to get deep on anything, especially when it’s so confusing and likely not reciprocated, right? 

“i guess,” mj says simply, pointedly staring out into the alleyway

beside her, betty lets out a light squeal, clasping her hands together, and mj has to bite back a groan 

“i knew it!” the girl declares, waving a finger in mj’s direction with a grin

“i so knew it. i knew my investigative journalism skills were right– they always are. and being in such a solid, healthy relationship has definitely given me a sense for these kinds of things; i think that’s what separates a woman from a girl, you know? and-” 

mj lets betty ramble on for a bit, sitting with a stoic face as she listens to the disturbance from afar

something about this feels… strange

it takes mj a moment to realize that this is the first time she’s admitted it, and then suddenly she finds herself a little bit breathless

“-so, how does it feel?” 

mj isn’t expecting the question, so when her eyes return to the soaking-wet blonde, she can’t help but feel like she has been snapped back into the present and everything is taking a minute to focus

“what?” 

“you know, how does it feel?” betty presses

“to have a person like that in your life? i mean, you can’t have had too many– you’re too calm and stuff for that kind of thing.” 

mj decides, in the moment, not to analyze that particular comment

instead, she considers betty’s previous question and tries not to feel too much like she’s been put on the spot for an interview

“um… i mean, i don’t think there’s a way that you’re supposed to feel,” she says slowly

“but pretty basic. i mean, with like fluttery chest and stuff. it’s whatever.” 

mj tries not to think about what she’s just said, but now that she’s let the words pass her lips, it’s a little bit hard

because it’s true: every time she catches him looking at her, her heart leaps and sputters like a revving engine, just about making her jump out of her skin

and every conversation with him that is unplanned is smooth and easy, like a road she knows how to drive like the back of her hand

and every awkward interaction somehow feels like a learning curve, like driving a new, unfamiliar car but knowing you’ll get the hang of it-

alright, maybe she’s taking the car metaphor too far, it’s kind of sounding like a rascal flatts song 

luckily, betty interrupts her train of thought before mj can take herself down a dead-end

“that’s so sweet,” betty decides, tipping her head slightly to the side

“you know, i don’t think i felt that way about my ned at first… but then, once i really got to know him, i started to get all the butterflies and everything. sometimes, i think, they come with time.” 

the absurdity of it all strikes mj in that moment: the two of them are literally hiding from a water golem behind a dumpster, and for some reason, they’re talking about boys

way to fail the bechdel test in real life, mj. 

but, as mj considers the situation they are in, she decides that maybe they are doing the right thing

after all, it’s keeping their minds away from the almost inevitable destruction of an ancient city with them in it, so they might as well do what they can to keep calm, right? 

it is for this reason, and no other, that mj decides to keep going 

“yeah, that makes sense,” mj agrees nonchalantly

she considers it for a second, though, and in the moment she finds herself simply letting loose

“i think mine were pretty immediate, though.” 

and, as mj thinks it over, she realizes it’s true

peter has had the same effect on her since the day she first saw him, when he ran into their freshman bio class half a second before the bell rang with a stupidly flustered look on his face

even then, when he was scrawny and short and squeaky-voiced, he was capable of releasing a bunch of fluttering fruit bats loose in her chest, filling her with panicked, beating wings

and even now, what is technically seven years later, that hasn’t changed

sure, he’s got abs now, and he’s got the arachnoid fursona to think about

but he’s still peter, and she still feels just the same as she did when she was a freshman in the back of the class, not yet having learned that no one gives a crap and still trying to figure everything out 

“it hasn’t changed,” mj finds herself admitting, “even though i have, i guess.” 

betty’s eyes flash with delight, and the words leave her mouth so quickly that mj isn’t convinced she is breathing: “ohmygosh. is this a long-term crush we’re talking?” 

mj pauses, strangely uncertain, but with betty’s eyes burning into her skull, she finds herself admitting it

“i mean, i guess so.” 

betty goes off on a rant, but mj isn’t really listening to it now

something settles over mj, cold and heavy, rather like a chill

it takes mj a moment to realize that betty has stopped talking and is now studying her

“what is it?” the blonde asks simply, and mj is surprised by the open seriousness in betty’s face

perhaps it is this candid side the blonde is showing that causes mj to reply 

“it’s the first time i’ve talked about it. not that it’s a big deal or anything.” 

betty’s eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t stop mj as she continues 

“but hearing myself say it aloud and everything? i mean, it makes it all sound kind of stupid.” 

betty doesn’t bother to hide her surprise, but rather than countering mj’s statement, she simply says, “why?”

mj mulls it over, considering

after a slight pause, she finally says, “it just doesn’t make sense.” 

“it kind of makes me feel like a loser. i’ve been hung up on this one thing for so long– i mean, it’s dumb. it’s not logical or anything, so i really should just move on… i’m an independent person.” 

betty’s eyes are narrowed and calculating as they meet mj’s own brown irises, and the question that she poses with such intensity nearly causes mj to lose her cool: 

“who says that it’s stupid just because it doesn’t make sense?” 

mj swallows thickly, glancing away, but betty isn’t done

“in fact, that might be exactly why it does make sense. because it doesn’t. sometimes, feelings like that just work that way.” 

feelings like that… 

for a moment, mj rolls the phrase around in her mind, and she finds herself straightening up slightly

feelings like that, feelings like-

alright, maybe that’s a bit much for one day

but something about the thought, maybe we don’t have to make sense, is strangely freeing

for just a moment, mj sits up a little straighter beneath the dumpster, drawing in a deep breath

she doesn’t have to make sense: she doesn’t owe it to anyone to be predictable, and she never has

in fact, mj has thrived in the face of unpredictability and instability her whole life, so maybe betty’s right

maybe, the fact that she and peter don’t make sense is exactly what makes it feel so right

and maybe, those feelings that betty is talking about could one day turn into… 

“i mean, look at ned and me. we weren’t exactly the likeliest couple– i was independent, ready to face the world, and he was a bachelor without any sense of direction in his romantic life. but all it took was one plane ride, some luck, and a little bit of fate, and now, here we are-” 

mj tunes out for most of the speech that follows, and as betty goes on, she can hear the sound of the chaos in the distance subsiding

and so, as the waters settle and the storm calms, mj finds a little bit of strength left in the wake of all the destruction

because maybe, just maybe, she’s opened herself up a little bit more to the uncertain and improbable

and maybe, because she’s allowed herself one foolish moment of vulnerability, she’s shaping up to be a bit stronger for it. 

[blightarts]

PROLOGUE

Next Chapter: Coming Soon

Disclaimer: All Endless Summer and Choices rights belong to Pixelberry. Also, jokes here are not meant to offend anyone. 

MC x LI Pairings: Quinn x M!MC, Jake x F!MC

Word Count: 4799

Tags: @princessstellaris​, @mechaspirit​, @xo-endlessmayhem-xo​, @skyila​, @choicesyouplayandmore​, @i-miss-trr​, @mysteli​, @brightpinkpeppercorn​, @aquamarvel​, @marmolady​, @sceptilemasterr​, @endlessly-searching-for-you​, @ohmyeightpastlives​, @choiceslife​

Blue eyes open to a new day. A young man in his early 20′s wakes up on his bed, with ruffled black hair and drool near his lips. One thing keeps repeating in his mind as he blankly stares at the ceiling.

“Everything in its own time.”

The man sighs and sits up straight.

Casey: That’s the only thing I believe in… for about a week. But as of now, there is little progress in restoring my friends’ memories and helping them back up to who they used to be during our adventures in that isla—

Suddenly, there was a loud bang on his door which scared him. The door opens and in comes a young blonde woman, also in her early 20′s and with blue eyes. It’s Casey’s older twin sister, Emily Summers.

Emily: Hey, Casey! Breakfast is ready! We got a big day today!

She grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him out of bed, towards the dining room.

Casey: Forget what I said. My overly-ecstatic sister is always dragging me, literally and figuratively, back to optimism. But who can blame her? She wants to be with everyone again, especially Jake.

Emily: Stop talking like Deadpool.

Casey: What? The writer likes jokes that break the 4th Wall.

(Note: You guys will read a bunch of jokes that break the 4th Wall. 😆)

The young woman rolls her eyes and chuckles as she puts her little brother on his chair, next to their roommate, Zahra Namazi, who chuckles at their antics.

Zahra: You two should audition for a sitcom, cuz your everyday shenanigans is making even me laugh.

Casey: Thanks for the compliment? I guess?

Emily just sips her coffee and stares blankly, internally giggling. Casey notices the red tint in his sister’s eyes, realizing that she cried herself to sleep, thinking about Jake, then he sighs. Soon, after the three finish breakfast, the twins go to prepare for the first day of the Hartfeld Science and Technology Week. As they get dressed, they head for the door, but not before turning to Zahra.

Emily: Zahra, you not coming?

Zahra: Why would I go to a stupid event with stupid people attending?

Emily looks at her, unamused. She turns to Casey for help who gives his sister an “I got this” look.

Casey: You know… there could be some tech in there you could hack into and use it to mess with those stupid people.

Zahra looks at Casey with a raised eyebrow.

Zahra: You present a very compelling argument, Summers. Alright, I’ll go, but I will be sitting at a discreet location so people won’t easily know it was me messing their stuff.

Casey: Great!

Emily gives Casey a double thumbs up before the three leave their dorm. They arrive at the central campus, where the event is being held. The twins see some of their friends at different places, all except one. Emily sighs as Casey pats her shoulder.

Casey: Don’t worry. Wherever he is right now, he and Mike are alright.

Emily nods and gives her brother a weak smile.

Emily: You’re right…

She shakes her head and turns to a nearby smoothie stand.

Emily: Gimme a sec.

Emily runs to the stand to order a smoothie, trying to hide her obvious pain. Casey sighs at this and just stands there, waiting for his sister to come back while looking for their best friend, Diego Soto. Soon after, Emily returns and spots Diego already with Casey.  She grins.

Emily: Heyyo, Diego!

Diego: Heyyo, Emily….yo…

Casey: Close enough.

The three share laughs before being interrupted by a tapping sound from the stage’s microphone. The school dean is onstage, ready to give the opening speech for the event.

Dean: Greetings, students. Welcome to the first day of the Hartfeld Science and Technology Week.

As the dean is greeting the students and giving his speech, the twins start to feel a slight pain in their heads. Diego notices this and whispers to them.

Diego: You guys okay?

Casey: Yeah, it’s just… we haven’t felt this kind of headache since…

Diego: Since…?

Emily: …La Huerta…

Diego: “La Hoopla”?

The pain continues to hurt the twins as they look around, searching for the source. It wasn’t a success but they do spot their friends. Casey’s beloved, Quinn Kelly, is by the fountain, having a heated conversation on the phone, possibly with one of her parents. Estela Montoya is backstage, talking to someone the twins cannot see from their point of view. Sean Gayle is with Michelle Nguyen, arguing about something, while Craig Hsiao is in between them, trying to stop the fight. Raj Bhandarkar is at his food stand, selling snacks to fellow students. Zahra is on a bench, trying to hack into some of the tech present in the event. Grace Hall is at the back of the audience, twiddling her fingers and paranoid ever since her arrest. And Aleister Rourke is also at the back of the audience, arms crossed and annoyed at everything around him.

Casey: Everyone… is… here…

Emily: Almost…

The twins then feel their hearts suddenly sink, as if they’re sensing something ominous coming. Even with this pain, they can still hear the dean’s last lines for his speech.

Dean: And now, may I introduce to you, our sponsor for this event, our great Emperor. His Eminence, Mister Everett Rourke!

Most of the audience clap with joy. Some just clap normally or don’t clap at all. And very few glare at the man, including Casey, Emily and Aleister.

Emily: Great, as if we couldn’t get any more headaches…

Casey: Sshh…He’s looking right at us…

Everett spots the twins and gives them an evil smirk before starting his opening speech for the event.

Everett: Hello, students of Hartfeld University. You know? Knowledge is power, but only a few can wield this power, and even more so, only very few could utilize this power to its highest potential. With this power, you could become Gods… like who I am right now…

During the speech, Everett is being broadcasted by a news crew, showing the footage live around the world. Somewhere in Costa Rica, two familiar grown men, laying on their hammocks and sharing bottles of beer, watch the broadcast.

Jake: This news is boring. Change it.

Mike: Nah, too lazy too.

Jake: Jackass.

Mike: Nitwit.

As Everett continues his speech, the pain the twins are experiencing gets more intense as they start to hear a screeching sound. Emily drops her smoothie because of this as it spills all over the ground. Diego, confused with what to do, tries to ask for help but before he could do so, a loud bang is heard from afar. A sonic wave travels from the source of the bang and reaches the Hartfeld central campus, knocking down everyone and interrupting Everett’s speech. Quinn drops her phone on the fountain. Sean falls on Michelle. Estela falls along with the person she was talking to, revealed to be her mother, Olivia Montoya. Raj’s food stand falls apart and his snacks drop to the ground. Zahra drops her laptop and it gets broken. The rest of the gang falls over normally.

Michelle: Get off!

Sean: Wha… What was that?!

Craig: Well, whatever it is, it sure knows how to literally drop the bass.

Estela: Mom! You okay?

Quinn: My phone!

Raj: My snacks!

Zahra: My laptop!

Random Student: My leg!

The news-broadcasting camera falls on the ground. Jake and Mike notices this while watching their TV.

Mike: Woah. What do you think is going on out there?

Jake: I don’t know. But I’m having an unusual sensation right now… it’s like… this is all familiar to me…

Mike soon notices Jake glowing.

Mike: Jake!

Jake: Wha—

Jake takes notices of his situation and sees Mike glowing as well.

Jake: What the fuck is happening?!

Mike: This ain’t like any hangover I’ve experienced befo—

The two are then transported to the Hartfeld central campus, next to Casey, Emily and Diego, who immediately notices them.

Emily: J… Jake?!

Diego: Woah! Those are the wanted fugitives, Jake McKenzie and Mike Darwin!

Casey: What are they doing here…?

Jake quickly sees the American flag near the campus, realizing that he and Mike are in USA, a place they shouldn't be in.

Jake: Fuck, we shouldn't be here.

Mike: How did we even get here in the first place?

Jake: I dunno, kid. But we gotta get outta here fast.

Mike: We're not Sonic the Hedgehog!

Jake quickly keeps Mike quiet and they try to sneak away from the public. No one seems to notice this as Diego is more occupied looking after Casey and Emily while everyone else tries to get back up on their feet. But suddenly, a large crack in the sky appears, catching everyone’s attention.

Sean: Great, now what’s that?!

Aleister: That’s…

Aleister sort of realizes what is going on and goes onstage to confront his father. But before he could do so, the crack becomes larger and a large spirit entity comes out of it. It is Vaanu, or at least, what remains of it. Its presence releases a second sonic wave, which blasted Aleister away from Everett. Vaanu reaches and grabs Rourke in anger.

Vaanu: Everett Rourke! Do you not care for the consequences that come with your unforgivable sin?! You are not a god. You have tampered with the decision that decides the fate of this world. And now this world is falling apart because of you.

The masses panic and run away, pushing each other and only caring for their own safety. Casey stands up, despite his pain. He runs around, looking for Quinn.

Diego: Casey! Where are you going?!

Emily: He’s going for her…

Diego: “Her”?

Emily: Quinn Kelly…

Emily stands up and asks Diego for help.

Emily: Diego…

Diego: Yes?

Emily: I want you… to help me… reach him…

Emily points to Jake, also running away with Mike from danger, which shocks Diego.

Diego: You want me to help you get close to a wanted man?!

Emily: He’s… an innocent… and kind… man…

Diego looks into Emily’s eyes, as if she’s telepathically saying “Please” to him, and eventually, nods.

Diego: Alright, I trust you in this.

Diego helps Emily up and guides her to Jake and Mike. Meanwhile, Sean, along with Craig, tries to calm the panicking masses.

Sean: Everyone, please. Stay calm. Don’t push each other. In a single file line, please!

Craig: Listen to the man! Come on.

Michelle takes a more aggressive approach as she smacks people with her purse.

Michelle: Hey! The guys said no pushing, you idiots! In a single file line, now!

Some people nod and follow her orders, scared of her more than Vaanu’s presence.

Sean: Uhh… thanks?

Michelle: This doesn’t make us even. Now get your ass to safety while helping everyone.

Sean nods and continues helping people while Craig follows him. Michelle went a different direction to help other people. Meanwhile, Raj runs away, holding his snacks in his arms, but clumsily dropping some of them.

Raj: This is totally not the mushrooms I had this morning! This is all too real, dude!!

Grace runs along with him, scared for her life.

Grace: I don’t wanna die… I don’t wanna die… I don’t wanna die…

On the other hand, Zahra, all alone and away from the majority of the people, runs to away from Vaanu and everyone.

Zahra: These punks can take care of themselves. I don’t give one single fu—

Suddenly, she spots a disabled student, struggling to get up with her crutches. Zahra groans in anger and runs towards the student.

Zahra: Damn you, whoever’s deciding my destiny!

She gives the disabled student a piggyback ride as she runs away from the danger.

Zahra: I blame you for not being near those goody-two-shoes football players, so they could help you instead.

Student: Umm… thanks?

Back near the stage, Aleister gets up after being blown back by Vaanu. He spots his father being grabbed by the entity and grits his teeth. He turns to see Estela and Olivia being helped by I.R.I.S. and Lila.

Aleister: Sister, everyone!

The four women spot Aleister.

Estela: Aleister? What are you doing here?

Aleister: Confronting our father about what he did.

Olivia: What he did?

Aleister: He must have done something. Knowing him and his ego, it must be meddling with time, space or reality itself.

Lila: Nonsense! His Eminence would never do that!

I.R.I.S. places a hand on her son’s shoulder.

I.R.I.S.: Aleister, come on. Let us get to safety.

Aleister nods and points to the running crowd.

Aleister: Let’s go with them.

The women nod and follow Aleister to the crowd. Meanwhile, Casey eventually finds Quinn. She is struggling to run away with lots of people running faster around her. Her breathing is slow and she is getting slower. Suddenly, a random student accidentally bumps into her and she falls to the ground.

Casey: Quinn!

Casey tries to help her but his headache gets worse, causing him to scream in pain and fall over, next to her. Even with this severe pain, he crawls towards his beloved, muttering her name. Quinn looks up, spotting Casey reaching to help her. She recognizes him during their first encounter after Casey and Emily wakes to Rourke’s world.

Quinn: You… I remember you…

Casey caresses Quinn’s cheeks with tears in his eyes. He gives her a hopeful smile.

Casey: Quinn, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here…

Quinn smiles back before falling unconscious. Casey holds Quinn’s hand before also falling unconscious. On the other hand, Emily and Diego reach Jake and Mike.

Emily: Wait!

Jake and Mike turn to Emily. Jake makes heavy eye contact with her, slowly familiarizing her. He stops in his tracks. Mike stops as well, right in front of him.

Mike: Jake, what’s wrong?

Jake: This lady… I feel like I’ve seen her before.

Emily collapses from Diego’s arms. 

Diego: Em!

Emily: I’m fine… Get to safety…

Diego: Not without you!

Jake and Mike rush to Emily’s aid.

Jake: Here, let me carry her for you.

Mike: Get to safety, buddy.

Diego pushes Jake and Mike away.

Diego: Why would I listen to criminals like you?!

There was a long silence between the three.

Diego: I don’t know why Emily has a fixation on you, but I’m not giving her to dangerous men like you!

Mike: Listen, we don’t have ti—

Jake stops Mike and steps forward.

Jake: Listen. We maybe criminals in the eyes of the public, but right now, your friend is in need and I don’t think you can carry her on your own and away from that thing. So, let me help, Short Stuff.

Diego glares at Jake’s eyes and exhales deeply.

Diego: Fine. But I’m only letting you save her. I’m not letting you near my best friend again after this.

Mike: That’s fine by us.

Jake carries Emily in his arms and runs away, with Diego and Mike right behind him. Emily, struggling not to fall unconscious, reaches to caress Jake’s cheek and smiles.

Emily: Nice to see you again… Top Gun…

Emily falls unconscious while Jake feels both relief and confusion after hearing what Emily said. As everyone runs further from Vaanu, it opens its other hand and shows Rourke what it has. Everett’s eyes widen to see the Crystal Heart of Vaanu on its palm.

Everett: It can’t be!

Vaanu: This time, you will not get in the way of this world’s destiny. 

Vaanu crushes the Crystal Heart and shatters it into three shards. It then opens three portals to three different timelines, before hurling each shard to each timeline. Rourke protests.

Everett: What did you do?!

Vaanu: I have sent my Heart’s shards into different timelines in order to keep this world intact long enough for the Catalysts to restore it into the way it’s supposed to be.

Everett: You insolent...!

Rourke grits his teeth in anger and activates something on his watch. Soon, the Omega Mech appears. Vaanu, prepared for the machine’s arrival, drops Rourke on the ground and grabs the robot, crushing it. This surprises Rourke, who starts to back away in fear. But before he could run away, Vaanu hurls the Omega Mech behind him and fires a celestial beam to it, causing an explosion. Broken shrapnel pierces Rourke’s back, heavily but not fatally wounding him. The explosion then blows him towards a pole and his body collides with it, knocking him unconscious. Vaanu looks onto the running crowd, spotting Casey, Emily and the rest of the Catalysts.

Vaanu: Everything else falls into your hands now… Catalysts…

Vaanu raises its arm and snaps its fingers. It then fades away as the crack in the sky and the portals disappear. The panicked masses notice this and have stopped running.

College Professor: Is… is it gone…?

Dean: I think it is…

Student: We… we’re safe now, right…?

Aleister’s group, noticing the disappearance of Vaanu, run back to look for Rourke and they eventually spot him on the ground, wounded and unconscious.

Olivia: Everett!

Lila: Your Eminence!

Aleister: Father!

Estela: No!

I.R.I.S.: Scanning vitals.

The group crouch around him.

Olivia: I.R.I.S., status!

I.R.I.S.: Vitals are stable but he’s still bleeding. We need to give him quick medical attention.

Lila: Alright, let me carry him to the—

Estela: Mom…?

The group turns to Estela, who is glowing and slowly fading away.

Estela: I don’t feel so good…

Olivia: What the... No, no, no…!

Olivia holds Estela close, as the latter clutches her mother, not wanting to let go.

Estela: I don’t wanna go, Mom… I don’t wanna go…

Olivia turns to the group for help.

Olivia: What is happening to my daughter?!

I.R.I.S.: It is as if she is being transported a different place… or a different time…

Lila: Like… she is being sent to either the past or the future.

Aleister: That is the case...

Olivia: Then help her!

I.R.I.S.: I am truly sorry, Olivia… but there’s nothing we can do here…

Olivia turns to Estela with tears in their eyes.

Olivia: It’s going to be alright, Dear. Look at me.

Estela nods, speechless as she completely fades away. Meanwhile, the people look to the sky, questioning if whatever just showed up is truly gone.

Sean: Where did it go…? What did it want…?

Craig: Uhh… Sean…?

Sean turns to Craig, who fades away like Estela. Sean is left speechless and sees himself fading away as well. His face shows both confusion and fear before he is completely gone.

Michelle: Sean! No!

Michelle tries to reach for the fading Sean but she fades away as well. Raj and Grace watch in horror but then soon realize that they are fading away too.

Grace: No, no, no—

Raj: This has to be some sort of tri—

The two are then silenced by their disappearances. Meanwhile, Zahra sees her hand fading then her entire self. She sighs and shakes her head in annoyance.

Zahra: Motherfu—

On the other hand, Casey and Quinn remain unconscious to each other. No words. Just Quinn fading away, leaving Casey alone. Meanwhile, Emily is laid on the bench with Diego comforting her. Jake and Mike discuss what just happened.

Mike: What do you think is going on here?

Jake: I don’t really know but I don’t wanna stick around to find out. We gotta find a way back to Costa Rica someho—

Diego: Woah!

Jake and Mike turn to Diego who starts to fade away. 

Diego: This is crazy! Like Infinity War cra—

Jake goes to help Diego but the latter disappears completely.

Jake: He's... gone...

Mike: Jake…?

Jake turns to Mike, who is looking at his own fading hand. They look at each other before Mike fades away entirely. Jake, in silence, also notices himself fading away. He turns to Emily, still unconscious, and crouches near her.

Jake: I don’t know who you are yet… but I promise… I will find you…

Jake smiles and pats Emily’s forehead gently before disappearing. After Mike and most of the Catalysts disappeared, a portal opens above Casey and Emily’s unconscious bodies and Vaanu’s hands carefully scoop them up and pull them in the other side of the portal. The people in the central campus of Hartfeld are left bewildered and traumatized by what they have just witnessed.

“Everything in its own time.” 

Two pairs of blue eyes open upon hearing these words. Casey and Emily wake up, no longer in pain. They look around and see nothing but a white void.

Casey: Whe… where are we?

Emily: I don’t know. I don’t even remember how we got here.

Casey: Last thing I remembered is seeing Quinn.

Emily: Mine was Jake.

The twins stand up and walk a few meters in the white void until it starts to take form into a familiar purplish dimension, with prismatic crystals laying around and a purple moon in the sky.

Casey: Looks like the dimension where we met Vaanu.

Emily: And before we made the choice of fucking up everyone’s lives.

The twins sigh, realizing their mistake of siding with Rourke and thinking that they might make their friends’ lives better.

Vaanu: That is not entirely true.

Vaanu appears in front of Casey and Emily.

Vaanu: You did choose to side with Rourke, but that is not the whole story.

Emily: What do you mean?

Vaanu: That truth is not mine to tell.

Casey: Well, what is the kind of truth that Em and I should know right now?

Vaanu taps the twins’ foreheads and shows them a vision of what it did to Rourke and the Crystal Heart.

Vaanu: Rourke did something that goes against what we all agreed upon. He messed with things that he should not have control over. And thus, with my remaining strength, I had to punish him and scatter my Crystal Heart into different timelines in order to keep this world from self-destruction. However, time is limited. I am tasking the two of you and your friends to collect the shards and make it whole again.

Casey: After that, we’re going to decide again, like last time?

Emily: Well, this time, we’re gonna choose the one where everyone is happy, except Rourke.

Vaanu: That is not entirely the case.

Emily: Huh?

Vaanu: When you chose to side with Rourke and had the Omega Mech utilized my power, stored within the Crystal Heart and you two, the both of you became completely human.

Casey: Like, Emily and I are no longer a part of you?

Vaanu nods in agreement. Casey and Emily look at each other for a moment, realizing that if they did manage to repair the Heart of Vaanu and restore things to how they are supposed to be, they can stay and be with the people they care about the most.

Vaanu: I suppose you two already know what I am implying.

Casey: Yeah. The three shards of your Crystal Heart each have a third of your full power.

Emily: And if we managed to put them back together, then you can be whole again, the world is saved and the two of us can stay here, with our friends and family.

Vaanu: Exactly. An ending befitting everyone’s needs.

Emily glares and points upwards.

Emily: Calling you out, Pixelberry!

Casey chuckles at what Emily is doing.

(Jk, love you, PB. Keep doing great on your books. 😆)

Vaanu then opens three portals, each leading to a timeline where it sent its Crystal Heart shards.

Vaanu: Behind these gateways are the timelines where I sent the shards. I have also separated your friends and sent them here to help you two in your quest.

Casey: Alright, simple enough.

Vaanu: However, once you enter either one of these gateways, you will be sent to a time one month after I have already sent the shard and your friends.

Emily: So, our friends get there on Day 1 and the two of us get there after a month?

Vaanu: The two of you are quite adaptable compared to your friends. Besides, it will be easier for you to find them once they have gotten familiar with the world they are currently living.

Casey: Makes sense.

Emily: Can you at least tell us which of our friends are in which timeline?

Vaanu: That is for me to know and for you two to find out on your own.

Emily: ….Cool!

Emily puffs her cheeks and cross her arms. Casey pats her back and gives her a motivational smile. Vaanu then guides the twins to each of the portals, giving them a background on the timelines they lead to.

Vaanu: This gateway leads to the Arcane Era; a time where technology is rare and magic is everywhere. Humans are able to use magic and wield spellbooks to better utilize this magic. The world is also split between the Natural Realm and Spirit Realm.

Casey: Sounds like something from an isekai-genre (Other world) anime.

The three then approach the second portal.

Vaanu: This gateway leads to the Dragonic Era; a time where dragons, wyverns and large beasts roam the land, along with humans. They were once allies, however an unforgivable sin done by the humans sparked a war between them. That was their history. In the present, the descendants of the humans are studying these creatures and uncovering their past while the creatures are behaving like animals in your world.

Emily: Sounds like something out of a video game.

The three then approach the final portal.

Vaanu: This gateway leads to the Dystopia Era; a time where I did not confront Rourke and sent away my Crystal Heart shards to the different timelines. In this timeline, an old enemy takes over and kills Rourke. This enemy then terrorizes the land and is planning to expand his control to the entire world. But a rebellion is standing in this enemy’s way.

Casey: Sounds like something from the Terminator film series.

Vaanu then gives each of the twins a special bracelet that contains the Hadean Zodiac signs of their friends.

Vaanu: This will help you find your friends. When one of the signs glows temporarily, it means they are nearby. The signs will permanently glow once your friends have their memories restored.

Emily: Thank you.

Emily smiles and admires her bracelet. Casey does the same.

Vaanu: Have you two decided on where to go first?

The twins nod.

Casey: I’m going to the Arcane Era.

Emily: I’m going to the Dragonic Era.

Vaanu nods back.

Vaanu: Excellent. Now once you two have reunited with your friends and reclaimed the two Crystal Heart shards in their respective Eras, you can tap your bracelets and you will be sent back here. You and your friends must go to the Dystopia Era together and reclaim the final shard before Rourke wakes from his slumber. He won’t be in a coma for too long, and his allies are making sure that you will not accomplish your goal.

Casey: Understood.

Emily: We won’t lose this time.

Vaanu then extends each of its hands towards the twins and gives them each an outfit, matching the Era they have chosen.

Vaanu: Now, it is time for you two to be equipped with the proper attire.

Casey receives a pair of matching silver and crimson gauntlets and boots, an Eastern waistcoat, arm-gloves to go with his gauntlets and a sleeveless crimson shirt with a cape-like bottom. Casey also gets his hair tied to a rising ponytail and his bangs dyed crimson. The young man grins at his new look.

Casey: Dang! I look smokin’!

Meanwhile, Emily receives a set of leather armor, including a black long-sleeve leather jacket, a brown leather vest, a pair of brown leather bracers, a pair of leather greaves, and black short leather trousers. She also receives a pair of goggles and a slingshot-like attachment to her left bracer. She delights on her new outfit.

Emily: Sweet! I look like a hunter!

Vaanu nods and slowly starts to fade away.

Vaanu: You two are ready. And now it is time for me leave the rest to you.

The twins notice Vaanu disappearing.

Emily: Vaanu!

Casey: Wait. We still have no idea what to do.

Vaanu points up, to the stars in the sky.

Vaanu: Worry not, Casey and Emily. The stars will guide you.

Soon after, Vaanu is completely gone, leaving the twins to their task. The two look at each other with determination in their faces.

Casey: Last one to get back here with our friends and the shard owes the winner a meal.

Emily: Oh, you are so on!

Casey and Emily bump their fists then go in for a handshake.

Emily: Take care out there.

Casey: You too.

They then face their respective portals with determined grins before letting go of each other’s hands and running towards their goal.

--- END OF PROLOGUE ---

[spookyspaghettisundae]

After All These Years

Snow gently fell outside the diner’s window. Danielle sipped from her cup of steaming hot coffee and watched the spectacle of Sheriff Blake arguing with Old Gambino, whose snowplow had broken down and now blocked the narrow road. Gambino’s arms flailed as he flapped his mouth and Blake visibly recoiled from him. The window and distance almost turned it into a silent film and gave it a comical look.

Michelle, who sat in the same booth, leaned over the table and clicked her tongue to draw Danielle’s attention.

“You know this is crazy, right?”

Danielle peeled her eyes away from the roadside conflict and let the exhaustion from the fifteen-hour drive weigh down her eyelids. Soaking up the warmth inside the diner that slowly dispelled the tingling cold from outside, with the sounds of Eva tinkering and toiling away in the kitchen, and that pleasant smell of the black coffee rising into her nostrils, it was easy for Danielle to imagine that her twin sister Michelle didn’t exist.

Still feeling the weariness of rolling up the roads from the city all the way to the sleepy town of Evergreen, she opened her eyes again and gave Michelle a tired smile.

“You know as well as I do that I had to come here. It was a letter from Harry. Our best friend,” she reminded her sister.

“Who has been dead for over ten years,” Michelle countered.

Danielle shrugged and sighed, taking another sip from her cup. Michelle hadn’t touched the cup in front of her on her side of the table.

“Like we haven’t seen our share of hoaxes. You’d think that the supposed UFO lights over the old reservoir, or the kids gone missing in the Misty Pines, or Butcher Benson’s grisly murder would have made us just throw that out. Just disbelieve such a thing flat out,” Michelle continued.

Danielle put her cup back down and poured some sugar into it. Michelle just glared at her in the moment of awkward silence, filled by the clink and clank of Danielle’s teaspoon mixing the sugar into the cup.

“I could really go for some of Eva’s pie,” Danielle said.

“No, you’re not gonna just drop that and—no. Even with what you and I know about all the, y'know, all the—occult stuff? You don’t believe that Harry’s ghost just up and possessed a pen, wrote a letter, got proper fucking postage, and sent it to you in the mail. Come on.”

Michelle crossed her arms.

Danielle peered over the edge of her cup at her and said, “Allie got a letter too.”

“Yeah, all the more reason to think it’s bullshit.”

“I thought so too, but she said it was his handwriting. And she had some guy she knows test it. Some expert. It was written recently. How do you explain that?”

Michelle’s lips formed a thin white line and her silence expressed a deep-rooted frustration. Invisible fumes rose from her head with her inability to rattle out a rational explanation for that.

“I don’t know, maybe Harry’s ghost possessed someone and, had them send the letter he wrote while riding the body?”

Danielle shook her head.

“No. I mean, maybe? That’s so far-fetched. Though it would explain a few things.”

Danielle craved a cigarette. The bad old habit crept up in the back of her mind, tickling her lizard-brain. She fought it by looking over to the pies on display. Eva was still busy in the kitchen, whipping up some breakfast for the truck driver sitting in the booth at the other end of the diner.

“So how about a little séance? We go to the cemetery, visit Harry’s grave, and—”

“Allie and Ryan came to Evergreen, too,” Danielle interrupted her.

A shadow passed over Michelle's face and she said, "Not Ryan. Rhiannon."

Danielle shrugged and continued on, "We all got a letter from him each. Looks to me like Harry wanted to get the whole gang back together again."

“And possessed someone to write a letter to the three of you. Yeah, this still makes no sense to me.”

“Allie also said she was attacked by a naked man wearing a horse’s head and carrying a street sign.”

Michelle just stared at Danielle upon hearing her say that. Stared right through her. Like her gaze consisted of two Superman-like eye-laser beams, and they were burning holes through the wall behind her.

Danielle leaned over the table, closer, and lowered her voice to a hiss to add, “Rhiannon said that Sheriff Blake told her to leave town when he got here.”

Michelle clicked her tongue again and shook her head, “So what? Blake always hated us. Doesn’t mean there’s any conspiracy going on in this crappy hick town.”

She leaned back in her seat and spread her arms across the length of it to lounge there with that same level of laziness that she always used to display.

“Okay. Sure, fair enough. It’s just weird, though. Also, look—even if this is just some prank—”

“You bet this is a prank. Listen, I think one of those jock assholes did a good job at faking Harry’s handwriting, and they’re gonna punk us if we show up at the reunion party.”

“Or, we could show up and then show them up with a prank of our own,” Danielle said with a feeble smirk.

“Oh, right,” Michelle said with a derisive giggle. “Like that’ll work out how you expect it to. Like that ever worked out.”

The smirk faded from Danielle’s face as those words cut through her confidence like a hot knife through butter.

“I have not forgotten that time when Bradley—that jerk—pantsed you in front of the team when you tried to mess with him,” Michelle said. “The cheerleaders sure had a—”

“Yeah, right. Okay, enough,” Danielle said to stop her.

Then her stomach growled.

Michelle grinned at her, “Isn’t that inconvenient? If only we could all be ghosts, without the need to eat and sleep, and all that.”

With a sigh, Danielle said, “Shut up.”

Michelle’s grin widened, stretching from ear to ear like the Cheshire cat. Danielle broke eye contact and took a bigger and greedier gulp from her coffee cup to squelch herself from replying with any profanities. The dark brown substance cooled with each passing second.

Eva had returned from the kitchen and served the truck driver a plate of eggs and bacon. The man over there replied in gravelly grumpy growls to Eva’s cheery tone, though it was far away enough for the jazzy background music playing from the speakers to drown out the precise words.

Taking a break from staring at her twin sister, Danielle looked back out the window and saw Blake helping Gambino push Mills’ tow truck. She had to stifle a giggle when the wheels spun without traction or moving the truck, and instead just shot a pile of muddy slush onto Blake’s jacket, prompting him to step away and glare at Old Gambino, then shout something at Mills.

When she looked back up at Michelle, her sister had tilted her head and just stared at her in that typical fashion whenever she expected her to admit she was right.

Danielle just shook her head and chose to continue ignoring her, so she waved Eva over.

The elderly waitress and now owner of the diner approached with a big beaming smile plastered across her face.

“What can I get'cha, darlin’?”

“I could really go for a slice of that apple pie,” Danielle said with a tired smile.

“Not for nothin’, but you do look like you could use some meat on those bones o’ yours,” Eva said with a mischievous wink. “Bet the boys in the city never leave you alone, huh?”

She turned to follow up on Danielle’s request. Danielle somehow wanted to feel mad about Eva’s comments—but couldn’t. This place hadn’t changed one bit in all these years.

Out of the blue, Michelle asked, “Allie said she slept in Room 214 of the Lakeview Inn, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Danielle said with a shrug and feeling more tired than before.

Maybe it was the mention of a place with warm beds—conveniently ignoring that Room 214 was “the suicide room.” Maybe it was just the stress and slow, grueling exhaustion from the long drive catching up on her, coupled with a chronic lack of sleep. Maybe it was having Michelle around all the time.

“Which is where the horse-headed freak attacked her.”

Danielle didn’t even merit that non-question with a word, she just nodded and mumbled a sound of confirmation through tight lips.

“She said that she woke up from a nightmare with a real injury that the freak had caused,” Michelle continued drilling.

Danielle didn’t feel like talking anymore, but she always appreciated the futility of saying so to her sister. Michelle always did whatever the hell she wanted and Danielle never felt like stopping her.

Not since the incident.

“Anyway, there’s no fucking way we’re staying in the Lakeview hotel,” Michelle said. “Wembley offed himself in that creepy-ass old Shining place. And Allie said she was attacked there. So. Just, no. No fucking way.”

Danielle set her jaw and decided she had to push back. Even if just a little bit.

Harry’s letter wasn’t a hoax. Allie wasn’t imagining things.

Something was wrong in their hometown. Always had been. And she had to get to the bottom of it.

“But what if there are ghosts? What if Evergreen is haunted? Shouldn’t we—of all people—be the ones to do something about it? To investigate?”

Michelle rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Okay. Fine, Nancy Drew. You win. We sleuth around, prove there are no ghosts, and get the fuck out of dodge again, before we get snowed in in this God-forsaken town.”

“I’m actually kinda worried about that,” Danielle said, shooting a glance outside to the beached snowplow and the combined efforts of Blake, Gambino, and Mills failing to move it from the ditch it was stuck in.

“Worried about what, sweetie?” asked Eva.

She had returned to the table with the pie Danielle had ordered. She put the plate down in front of her and gave her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach the woman’s eyes. The bright fluorescent lights reflecting in her irises flickered with worry.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” Danielle said. But her voice cracked and trembled with a hint of concern. “I do have to get back to work in a few days, and the snowfall is getting worse by the hour.”

“Yeah. But don’t you lose any sleep over it. Old Gambino will have it cleared out, just you wait. You can go to that high school reunion o’ yours and leave on time, no problem-o.”

Danielle forced herself to smile a sad smile at that, as she had zero interest in going to the high school reunion.

“You’re right, Eva,” Danielle said. She had to squeeze out the rest alongside a sigh, “You’re always right.”

Eva shuffled two steps closer and bit her lip before leaning in and whispering, “Maybe try to stop the, uh—you know what I mean? Them bullies might still hassle you over it. Y'know, some boys just never grow up.”

Eva’s pained smile poorly masked pity and it made Danielle more uncomfortable with each passing second. She forced herself to nod and peeled her gaze away from the waitress, then trained her eyes on the three men outside struggling to rescue the snowplow.

“Uh, do you want me to get you another cup o’ coffee? This one’s probably all cold now,” Eva asked.

From the corner of her eye, Danielle saw her point at the one on Michelle’s side of the table. Michelle’s gaze wandered back and forth between the two like someone watching a tennis match.

“Nah, it’s all good,” Danielle said. “I kinda like cold coffee.”

Eva took a deep breath and said, “Alright, knock yourself out. You need anything else, honey, just holler.”

Then the waitress left.

Danielle grabbed the cold coffee from Michelle’s side of the table. Michelle did nothing to stop her in any way, just giggled. Danielle poured sugar into the cup and stirred once more. The two of them remained silent while Eva visited the truck driver again, who had waved to her from across the diner.

Danielle asked Michelle with a frown, “Couldn’t you have, y'know—warned me? That I’m talking out loud again?”

She took a sip and winced. While the smell still enticed her, no amount of sugar could mask how strong the coffee was—and Danielle remembered that she didn’t even like coffee that much.

Michelle sprung forward and leaned over the table again, grinning, “And spoil this? I fuckin’ love watching you squirm whenever you gotta come up with excuses for this.”

Danielle shook her head and put the coffee down. Grabbing a fork, she sampled some of the apple pie. Her eyes went wide with the explosion of a delightful taste unfolding in her mouth. It obliterated any frustration she felt welling up, pushed back all the complaints she wanted to level at Michelle.

She just chewed and savored the sweet flavor and the silky feel of the pie on her tongue.

Observing Danielle’s face, Michelle’s lips curled into a warm smile. It was untypically warm and gave her a glow—a somewhat surreal appearance. She was fuzzy around the edges and almost translucent as daylight outside the diner grew brighter, and the sun rose.

“I love you, sis’,” said Michelle. “This is gonna be great. We were destined for this. I miss Harry, too. Who knows, maybe he is a ghost, too? Maybe we’ll get to talk to him.”

Danielle swallowed the delicious bite and returned the smile. Genuinely happy that Michelle was still with her. After all these years.

After Michelle had died in the car accident all those years ago.

—Submitted by Wratts

[camillemontespan]

lost stars [AU. drake, camille, leo and olivia] [final chapter]

Here we go, the final chapter! Thank you to everyone who has commented, reblogged and messaged me to say how much they’ve enjoyed this series. I’ve loved writing it. 

Warnings: NSFW. Also a disturbing ‘Would You Rather?’ question. My boyfriend once asked me this and I had to use it for this fic. I’m sorry. 

Fluff (shitload of fluff). 

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @moonlightgem7 @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @iplaydrake @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @emceesynonymroll  @themingdynasty 

@gardeningourmet @burnsoslow @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @katedrakeohd @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @carabeth @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld

If anyone’s interested, here’s the song that inspired the name of the series and general vibe: 

            ***************************************************************

Drake opened his eyes slowly, having been awoken by something touching his body. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down and smiled softly when he saw Camille kissing her way down his chest.

'Hey you,' he murmured, feeling himself harden as he watched her lips kiss his skin. Camille looked up at him from under her eyelashes. 'Good morning,' she whispered.

Drake groaned as he felt her tongue lick down his hip lines as her hands roamed the muscles in his arms. She was practically worshipping him.

'I could get used to this type of wake up call,' Drake joked. He reached out to take Camille's hands, just because he wanted to touch her. Camille's lips trailed like wildfire across his body before he felt her take hold of his hard cock. He let out a gasp as she leaned down to take him in her mouth.

'Oh fuck, Camille!'

She continued to move her head up and down while her hand slowly pumped up and down his length. Camille took him in deeper, groaning as she did so. Drake listened to her enjoying working him.

'I want you,' he whispered.

Camille slowly pulled away and looked at him with a mischievous smile on her face. 'I was hoping you would say that.'

She straddled him and Drake reached out to touch her- she wasn't wearing underwear under her pink silk negligee. He could feel her wetness and it made him hungry.

She gently slid down onto him, taking Drake in fully, and began to buck her hips as she moved. Drake sat up, pulling her in close. He slipped her negligee off and cast it aside, dying to feel her skin against his. He kissed her neck as he cupped her breasts with his hands, kneading her and teasing her as if she was unmade clay.

Camille looked at him, the gold flecks in her brown eyes shining. Drake growled at the sight of her and his mouth crashed against hers. He was mad for her. Completely and utterly mad for her.

                          **************************************************

Once they had disentangled themselves from the bedsheets, Camille and Drake went through to the kitchen to brew coffee. Drake's mouth twitched at the corner when he saw how dishevelled he had made Camille's hair.

As Drake set up the coffee machine, Camille leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed. 'So I'm going to be busy for a few hours today,' she told him. 'I'll be here but I need space.'

Drake blinked. 'Oh. What are you doing?'

She awkwardly shuffled on her feet and tightened the rope of her mint green silk dressing gown.

'I'm getting rid of stuff that reminds me of Leo,' she admitted. 'He took his things but there's still stuff in the apartment that reminds me of him, so I'm having a Leo detox.'

Drake smiled weakly. 'I get it. You want me to head out for a few hours? Leave you alone?'

She nodded. 'If that's okay? I just think it would be best if I dealt with it myself.'

Drake drew her in for a hug and pressed a kiss on top of her forehead. 'Of course. Take all the time you need.'

                       ****************************************************

Leo and Olivia had ended up on the same return flight back from Paris, which would have annoyed her originally except Olivia had now just accepted that he was her little Parisian shadow. Her annoying little Parisian shadow.

They were sat on separate aisles but that didn't stop Leo from turning around to catch her attention, two aisles in front of her. He inclined his head towards the plane bathroom and gave her a wink.

Olivia rolled her eyes and continued to read the in-flight magazine, trying to concentrate on the article.

She couldn't.

Leo tapped the flight attendant on the elbow and said something to her which Olivia couldn't catch. The flight attendant caught Olivia's eyes and gave her a knowing smile. She strutted down the plane and Leo chuckled, turning back to read his book.

Olivia went back to reading about the best restaurants to eat in if you happened to be in Budapest.

'Miss?'

Olivia jumped. Standing at her seat was the flight attendant. She held out a glass of champagne to Olivia and gestured towards Leo.

'The blonde gentleman sends his love,' she told Olivia with that knowing smile again. It grated on Olivia.

Olivia took the glass and watched as Leo turned to look at her with a lazy smile on his face. Olivia scowled and tossed back the champagne before unbuckling her seat belt. She began to stride towards Leo and as she passed him, she muttered, ' You are relentless.'

She strode with purpose to the bathroom and let herself inside. Facing the mirror, she studied her reflection.

The door knocked three times and opened slowly.

Leo's reflection stared back at her, triumphant.

'I may be relentless,' he said, ' but you love it, Nevrakis.'

As he kissed her hungrily, Olivia couldn't deny it.

                      ***************************************************

It turned out that a lot of the items in the apartment reminded Camille of Leo. For the third time that morning, she considered just burning down the apartment all together.

She was sat cross legged on the living room floor with objects scattered around her. She picked up a photograph of her and Leo which was taken at one of Camille's work events. It had been a Beaumont Bash, named after her law firm Beaumont LLP, and it had been a black tie affair. The photo showed Leo twirling Camille around the dance floor and the camera had caught her during fits of laughter.

Leo always liked to dance dramatically as if nobody was watching.

Camille felt a twinge in her heart. They had had good times, happy memories.

Leo and Camille had been together for a long time. There was still some love there, of course there was.

Camille's eyes scanned the rest of the objects before settling on a diamond necklace Leo had bought her.

It had been ostentatious. Too sparkly and over the top. Diamonds were not Camille's thing at all, but when he had presented her the necklace after they had argued about something stupid, she had accepted it with a wide smile on her face and put it on. She had pushed down the feeling that she was suffocating.

Leo didn't really know her. That was the overwhelming thought Camille kept having as she sorted through these items.

Camille felt a flicker of excitement when she realised she could start making memories with Drake.

So why hold onto these things that reminded her of Leo? Why not just get rid of it all? Especially after Leo had broken the picture frame of the photo in Paris. Remembering the photo, she rushed to the bedroom where it lay crumpled on the side table. She picked it up and placed it with the other memories.

Defiantly, Camille gathered up the photographs, the necklace and other objects. She threw them into a rubbish bag and carried it downstairs to the skip on the other side of the road. She dumped the rubbish bag into the skip with a flourish and triumphantly made her way back to the apartment, deciding that a celebratory glass of wine was needed.

                 ***************************************************

Drake decided to go back to Camille's after being out at a coffee shop for four hours. He had mainlined five coffees on that time and he was buzzing.

He opened the apartment door with the spare key Camille had given him and frowned when he heard music coming from the living room, the beat guiding him through the hallway.

Entering the living room, he stopped to watch Camille who was dancing around the living room, her back to him, with a glass of wine in her hand, singing along to the music.

All the women, who are independent

Throw your hands up at me

All the honeys, who making money

Throw your hands up at me

All the mommas, who profit dollars

Throw your hands up at me

All the ladies, who truly feel me

Throw your hands up at me

She proceeded to drop down to the floor as she sang, 'Girl I didn't know you could get down like that, Charlie, how your Angels get down like that!'

Drake burst out laughing, making Camille scream. She whipped around to face him, a look of horror on her face. The horror quickly faded to embarrassment.

'Oh god, you caught me dancing to my jam..' she mumbled. Drake smiled and made his way over to her.

'So did you do your Leo detox?'

She nodded. 'Yup.  It’s all in the garbage, which is when I decided that Beyonce, Kelly and Michelle would feel proud of me. So.. here I am.'

Drake twirled her around and kissed her softly. She tasted of wine.

'But you're okay?' he asked gently.

Camille looked up at him, her gaze steady. 'Now I'm with you, yeah.'

                     **************************************************

Leo and Olivia made their way through JFK. Olivia held her head high, trying to ignore the fact that she had yet again degraded herself on an airplane bathroom sink.

Leo walked with a swagger because he had had sex with her on said airplane bathroom sink.

They reached the taxi rank. 'So, want to share one?' he suggested brightly. Olivia crossed her arms and stared at him with a look that could break glass.

'No. We're not repeating our Paris trip,' she said.

'Ah, our Paris trip!' he replied, grinning wolfishly.

Olivia turned red and stumbled over her words. 'No, I didn't mean that, I meant MY Paris trip which you hijacked!'

He looked at her seriously now. 'Olivia,' he sighed. 'To quote Ferris Bueller, you are so tight, I could shove a lump of coal up your ass and in two weeks,  you would shit out a diamond.'

She glared at him. 'Fuck off. And that's not the script.'

Leo shrugged. 'It's true though. You’re so uptight and rigid about keeping your feelings in, you won’t let go. When are you just going to stop trying to deny this? You like me. I like you. Give it up.'

Olivia closed her eyes. 'You're just.. Ugh I don't know. I don't need you.'

Leo stepped closer to her, his green eyes focused on her. His thumb ran softly along her hand. 'I know you don't need anyone,' he whispered. 'That's one of the reasons why I like you so damn much. But you want me, Liv, and that's a big difference.'

He opened the taxi door for her. 'Your chariot awaits.'

Olivia frowned. 'You're not sharing?'

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. 'Why, do you want me to?'

Olivia bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Leo rolled his eyes. 'Get in the cab, Liv,' he told her. 'Safe trip home.'

She got inside silently and Leo passed the driver a 50 dollar bill. 'Get her back safe,' he told the driver.

The taxi rolled away and Olivia watched out the window as Leo picked up his luggage and went to the bus stop.

The silence in the taxi was excruciating. She had become used to her little Parisian shadow. Olivia thought back over the past few days in Paris when they had hung out, taking in the sights and actually having a good time. No, scratch that. They had a riot. 

He had helped her pick a red Chanel lipstick, patiently waiting as she tried different shades. When he bought her the shade she liked, she had spontaneously kissed his cheek, leaving her mark. Leo had actually blushed before clearing his throat, suggesting they get a drink.  

She had pushed the memory to the back of her mind, ashamed that she had voluntarily kissed him on the cheek in a sickeningly playful way.  But as Olivia thought about him, she realised that things with Leo were different; he was fun. He challenged her. He made her step out of her comfort zone. 

The memory of the Chanel lipstick woke her up to what she was driving away from. 

'STOP!' she shouted, causing the driver to jump. He stopped the vehicle and Olivia grabbed her suitcase before bursting out of the taxi door. She began to run towards the airport bus stop, not caring that her heels were too high for such an activity or that she looked undignified.

The airport bus to the city pulled up and the line of people, including Leo, began to make their way towards the open doors.

'Leo!' Olivia shouted, picking up the pace. 'Leo, wait!'

He turned with a confused look on his face. His eyes widened when he saw her racing towards him with her red hair falling out of its neat bun.

'Liv?' he said, staring at her.

Olivia reached him. Out of breath, she threw her luggage down to the ground and threw her arms around his neck. Her lips crashed against his and he let out a surprised gasp.

Olivia was certain he would push her away. But he didn't. Instead he picked her up off the ground and twirled her, still kissing her desperately.

They didn't notice the bus pull away. They were too caught up in each other. Besides, they could always catch the next one.

            *********************************************************************

One Year Later

Drake and Camille were sat at a table near the corner of the Italian restaurant. Around them, diners happily ate their dishes and toasted their glasses, laughing merrily.

Drake and Camille were playing, ‘Would You Rather?’

‘Hmmm.. would you rather... have vaginas for ears or vaginas all over your back?’ Drake asked. 

Camille burst out laughing. ‘Ewww, Drake! That’s disgusting!’

Drake shrugged and took a sip of his beer. ‘Come on now.’

Camille took a sip of her wine and thought seriously, her eyebrows knitting together. Drake could see the cogs in her mind turning. 

‘Vaginas for ears. I can always hide them by having my hair down. I do not want vaginas all over my back.’

Drake chuckled. ‘Okay, you ask me.’

Camille was about to think of a more disturbing question but her attention was caught by two people waiting at the restaurant door to be seated. 

‘Oh my God, there’s Leo and Olivia,’ she whispered. 

Drake looked up and his face paled. ‘Oh god. We haven’t seen them since..’

‘We broke up,’ Camille finished. ‘I didn’t know they were together!’

Drake was still staring at them.  ‘Well, this is awkward.’

Olivia looked around the restaurant and her eyes caught Drake’s. Her eyes widened in surprise. 

Drake held up his bottle of beer in greeting as Camille waved shyly. Olivia inclined her head at the two of them, a casual hello,  before her eyes flashed to Drake’s bottle; she looked relieved when she saw it was only beer. Drake’s heart warmed. Clearly, she still cared enough about him to want him to stay away from whiskey.  

Leo looked over at them and visibly stepped back in shock. Again, Drake and Camille greeted him as they did Olivia. 

Leo raised his hand as a hello before the waiter took his attention. Olivia and Leo were led to the other side of the restaurant. 

            *******************************************************************

Olivia was glad she couldn’t see Drake and Camille. That had been a surprise. Instead, she could see Leo sat in front of her, all golden. Once he had recovered from seeing Camille (he had gone very quiet), he was back to being his usual jubilant self, which was how Olivia liked it. 

She studied the menu. ‘So, I’m going to go for the lobster..’ she mused, ‘but I’m thinking we could just have dessert to go?’

Leo blinked. ‘To go? You don’t want dessert here?’

Olivia ran her foot up his leg towards his crotch and gave him a wicked smile, the one she knew he couldn’t resist. 

‘I was thinking we could have it in bed? I can do some twisted things with a cherry on my tongue..’ 

Leo grinned and snapped his menu shut. ‘I fucking love you.’

               *********************************************************************

Drake helped Camille with her coat. As she thanked the waiter for the hospitality and gave him a generous tip, Drake opened his coat discreetly to check it was still safe. 

His grandmother’s engagement ring was inside his jacket, neatly stashed. 

Drake had been paranoid he would lose it on the taxi ride over to the restaurant but thank God. 

‘So, taxi home?’ Camille asked, shooting him a bright smile. 

Drake’s plan needed to come into motion now. ‘Actually, I was thinking we take a walk through Central Park?’ he suggested. ‘Lovely night, quite warm, the stars are out.’ 

Camille kissed him gently. ‘You’re such a marshmallow,’ she told him. ‘A walk through the park sounds perfect.’ 

Drake smiled and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her out the restaurant. He didn’t look back at Leo and Olivia.  Why would he? 

He had everything he needed right here. 

They wandered towards Central Park and Drake pushed down his nerves. This was it. He hoped she would say yes. 

The city around them buzzed with vitality but when they reached the park, it was peaceful in comparison. Drake and Camille went inside, the sounds of the city fading the deeper they wandered. Drake looked up at the sky which was clear. He could see the stars shining down on the two of them, their own galaxy. 

Reaching out for her arm, he stopped Camille, who turned to him in surprise. ‘You okay, Drake?’ she asked. 

Drake cleared his throat, willing courage to come to him. 

‘Camille, I have something to ask you...’

[agentbarton12]

Sticky Business

a/n: an update! yay!

word count: 3K

masterlist | series masterlist

CHAPTER THREE

Resident Idiot #2 was the reason I sat in front of them. Not on the other side of the table, but right in front of them.

The day after I made my bet about the spider thing, I was enjoying my solitude because the stares had become minimal and bearable. I was buried in the inked words on my book and ignored everyone. I was so transfixed that I didn’t notice him slide his tray of stale lunch food in front of me with his body not far behind.

Ned didn’t say anything. He just sat there, staring at me expectantly. His friend still in the normal place, probably gibbering like a fish. I still hadn’t noticed him. He grew impatient and gently nudged my leg under the table.

My head shot up and I got ready to yell a string of profanities, but he silenced me by waving his arms around my face. “Relax, MJ. I was just trying to get your attention.”

I scowled. There were other normal ways of getting someone’s attention, like calling them. I didn’t say this though. I kept the scowl on my face. I didn’t want to give him the idea that this whole talking to each other was going to become a normal occurrence. He took my silence as an invitation to continue talking.

“So, MJ,” he said leaning on his hands. “My friend, Peter over there, just said the dumbest thing in the history of dumb things,” he revealed while pointing at Peter who was watching us from the other side of the table with an incredulous look on his face. I didn’t bother acknowledging him.

Ned continued, “This fool had the audacity to say that Chris Pine’s Star Trek is better than the originals. Unbelievable, right?” His arms flailed around for emphasis on how shocked he was. I kept my face devoid of any emotion. “Now, MJ, I know that while you are sitting here in your corner, you actually hear our conversations and I’m sure you have your own little opinions — ”

Yes, I thought, you’re both idiots.

“ — so, I need your help to rebuke his idiotic beliefs and bring him over to good side.”

That’s when Peter was able to form coherent words and moved over to Ned in order to chastise him. “No fair, Ned. You can’t ask for outside help to sort out our arguments, especially when you never said we could and especially when it’s Michelle.”

“I will do whatever it takes to correct you.” He turned back to me. “MJ. Please bestow upon Mr Parker your wisdom and tell him with that steel tongue of yours that he is an idiot.”

I felt inclined to say something. Even if it was a short quip (the shorter the better) I had to say something. And so, I did.

“You’re both idiots. The fact that you — both of you,” I said pointedly to Ned, “are here talking about Star Wars and whatever the other one was, when it is clear that Interstellar is the superior space movie is what’s unbelievable. Now, you both can go back to your place and leave me alone until you correct your backwards views on movies.”

I expected them to leave. No, no. scratch that. I wanted them to leave. I practically told them to. But they remained in front of me and continued talking amongst themselves like I hadn’t kicked them away.

“Well, that backfired,” Ned huffed out.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “She totally just told us.”

Ned snorted. “Interstellar, the best space movie? Pfft.”

“Dude relax.”

I sighed and turned back to my book. I ignored them for the rest of lunch, but they still didn’t move. I checked the time on my phone and calculated that if I left right then, I could still spend at least twenty minutes in the library. I started clearing away my things discretely, so that I don’t alert the boys of my departure. As I was standing up, I heard the last bit of their conversation.

“ — she needs a space movie intervention,” Ned said to Peter.

“What did you have in mind?” Peter asked curiously.

“A movie marathon of all — and I mean all — the space movies ever created in the history of the universe and at the end of it all, we rate them and see if her opinion changes — which it will.”

“Umm…that’s gonna take forever, not to mention the fact that she might not want to.”

“Shut up. It will happen, and she will — hey where’d she go?”

I guess Tweedledee and Tweedledum finally noticed my absence.

Terrance had gone back to school when I got home that day.

The next day they sat in the middle of the table, closer to where I sit. I didn’t comment on it. I ate and read quietly, glad that they didn’t rope me into one of their pointless conversations.

But today, today they made the bold move of inviting me to sit with them. They did not impose themselves onto me but asked earnestly. I know how this goes: they invite me in, I say no, they get all deflated but feign a carefree attitude. It happened every time. Only this time, with these weirdos, they didn’t take no for an answer.

“MJ,” Ned begged. “Please.”

“No.”

“But you already sit with us. Why not take the next step and actually, you know, sit with us?”

“No, thanks. People suck.”

“But we’re not ordinary people, MJ. We’re cool and funny and awesome — ”

“ — And dorks,” I added without thinking.

Ned noticed and didn’t even skip a beat when saying, “See? Banter. One of the signs of a good friendship.”

I snorted. “We are not friends.”

Peter just stared at me. He needs to stop doing that. It’s creepy.

“Stop that,” I snapped.

“What?”

“The staring, you dork. Stop it.”

“I’m not — I wasn’t — I — ”

“Don’t care. Just stop, okay.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. I hadn’t noticed that they had slowly inched their way closer to me. Ned slid over as gracefully as he could and Peter, well he got stuck and had to yank himself over.

“Sticky,” I commented, absentmindedly.

He looked at me. “What?”

“You. Sticky. Another comparison between you and spiders. Sticky.”

“Michelle, I — ”

“Metaphorically speaking, you are really attached to things, people mostly. You meet, you love them and boom!, can’t leave 'em alone.”

“I don’t do — ”

“This,” I said gesturing to him and Ned, “is exactly what I’m talking about. Nothing wrong with it, but you’re kinda sticky. Can’t let go of people. Literally, I mean that you are sticky. I remember, it was the day when you came to school, and you suddenly didn’t need glasses — ”

“Laser eye surge — ”

“ — Yeah, yeah, yeah. You had ‘laser eye surgery’ or whatever.” I waved him off. “No matter how many times you use that excuse, I won’t buy it. Anyway, you were closing your locker, right, when your hand got stuck on the door and you yanked on it so hard, you ripped it off its hinges.”

He just looked at me.

“Sticky. And if I am not mistaken, this is what, the fourth comparison I’ve made?”

Ned looked incredulous. “Why do think of this stuff?”

I shrugged. I felt like there was something there every time I brought it up, and even though I don’t want to be their friend, I still feel entitled to find out what it is.

I didn’t tell them that though. Instead I said something that I immediately regretted. “Twenty dollars.”

“What?” they asked in unison. Turns out it wasn’t planned, and they shared a grin like the dorky dorks they are.

“Twenty dollars,” I repeated. “If by, let’s say, next week Friday, I can’t come up with four more comparisons between Parker here and spiders, I drop it and give you guys twenty dollars. But if I can, you owe me twenty dollars.”

Peter opened his mouth to object, but Ned spoke before him. “Deal.”

He gave me a lazy smile and I pursed my lips and gave him a half nod. Peter was still staring at the two of us, unsure of how this had even happened. Honestly, I don’t know either. I went from not wanting to talk to them, to making bets like it was second nature. But it wasn’t second nature. I didn’t — don’t — have friends to make bets with.

For the first time that week, I spent the entirety of lunch in the cafeteria. I didn’t bother leaving and I excluded myself from their conversations. I did, however, tell them to leave, but they stayed. Dumb boys are way too stubborn for my liking.

We left the cafeteria together. I walked a few steps behind them, but they kept turning back to look at me to make sure I was okay. I didn’t like being looked after. It’s an uncomfortable feeling having people watch you. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been so used to people ignoring me. ~~~

Terrance came home the same Thursday. As soon as I got home, I headed straight for Mr Torres’ apartment like I had been for the past week and spent an hour talking with him. I said my goodbye and was surprised to find the apartment completely empty. My mom doesn’t go to work during the week, so her absence was surprising.

I shrugged it off and assumed that she was probably getting groceries. The fridge had been empty for a while now, so that would make sense. I kicked my shoes off in my room and headed to the kitchen counter and did my homework.

As soon as I was done, I jumped over to couch and turned on the Rosa Parks documentary that I had watched repeatedly. I could practically quote the lines from the bus scene.

Five rolled around faster than I expected, and my mom was still not back. I ignored the looming feeling of worry that was forming in the pit of my stomach. She was coming back, I told myself. I convinced myself and I returned to the brain rotting activity I was partaking in.

At five thirty, Terrance came stumbling the apartment and dropped his basketball bag by the door. He plonked himself on the couch next to me and let out a sigh.

“Rough day?” I asked, noting his obvious exhaustion. He nodded breathlessly. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

I nodded, releasing silent rays of apology. He looked around. “Where’s your mom?”

I shrugged. “Wasn’t here when I got back. I was hoping you would have brought food cause I’m starving.”

“Me too! I came here thinking y’all were ready to feed me. I guess not.”

I rolled my eyes but chuckled none the less. I shoved him lightly. “Wanna get pizza?”

“What happens if your mom walks in right now and finds us ordering pizza?”

I pondered this for a while. “Fair point.”

We sat in silence, waiting for my mom to come home. Six came. Half past six. Quarter to seven and she still hadn’t come home. She hadn’t even called or answered any of my texts. I was growing impatient and so was my stomach.

Also, it was hot. Sweat was clinging to my body and my thighs were sticking the couch underneath me. Terrance wasn’t doing any better. Even in a tank top, he was sweating feverishly, and he was leaving patches of sweat on the couch where he was sitting.

The heat was suffocating, creating a thick blanket of warmth that encompassed our entire bodies. It was uncomfortable sitting there, and I felt like the heat was gnawing at my skin.

It wasn't windy. Our windows were shut, and the terrace door was closed. I know, I know, how can we complain about the heat while our windows and everything were closed? Well, my mom hates having the windows open. It allows mosquitos and nasties to enter.

It wasn’t windy. So, when the terrace door rattled, Terrance and I did the rational thing and panicked. Silently, so we didn’t alert whatever it was that was out there. When the rattling continued, we bolted off the couch and headed for the door. We rushed over to Miss Crux’s apartment and knocked on her door hastily, stealing glances at our apartment door.

She opened the door in the silkiest night gown I had ever seen. The image was too horrifying for me to even relay. I was temporarily too stunned to even remember what I was there for. The rattling that came after snapped me out of it.

“Evening, Miss Crux. Sorry to disturb you so late. My mom isn’t home and our aircon isn’t working, so we were wondering if we could stay here until she gets back?”

Miss Crux enjoyed company. She fed off it. Her hair was cropped off and her face seemed to be pulled up. Her cream coloured skin glistened with sweat, but I could feel that her apartment was considerably cooler than ours.

She invited us in and told us to make ourselves comfortable. We headed for her terrace. She gave me a quizzical look. “So, we can see our mom if she’s walking home. Birds eye view and everything.”

She accepted that without any further questions.

We quietly shut the door behind us. I crouched down behind the railing in order to peer at our terrace and see who it was that kept making a noise.

“How do you do that?” Terrance asked crouching down next to me.

“Do what?” I asked back, not taking my eyes off our terrace. I could make out a figure in the dark, but I couldn’t tell who it was.

“The whole lying thing on the spot.”

I shrugged. I had been perfecting the art for the past sixteen years of my life, so it had become second nature to me. I didn’t divulge this to Terrance just yet. We were on a serious mission and couldn’t afford distractions.

That’s when Terrance’s loud phone rang.

Obnoxiously loud.

The figure snapped its head in our direction. I punched Terrance in the arm and motioned for him shut it off. He complied. I looked back over the railing, still crouching in my position and saw the figure scanning for the source of the noise.

“Shoot. You idiot. Now its seen us and — ” I whispered to Terrance. But Terrance wasn’t there anymore. I looked around for him but found him nowhere. I peered through the glass of the door but saw no sign of him.

Then one of the deepest voices I have ever heard, boomed over from my terrace. “Hey! Relax, I’ve got your mom and — ”

Thud!

I looked up to see Terrance standing over a body holding a baseball bat. Oh no. I sighed.

I ran out of Miss Crux’s apartment telling her I spotted my mom and that we’d be okay and I thanked her for letting us stay there. When I got to my apartment, I found Terrance on the terrace (ha-ha) muttering swear words under his breath.

“What did you — oh my gosh.” My hand flew to my mouth when I saw who it was lying unconscious on the floor. I slowly looked at my cousin then back at the body and back at him again. I couldn’t believe it. My cousin just knocked out Spider-Man.

The Spider-Man.

We were so going to jail. And I was so not ready.

I slapped Terrance’s arm. “What is wrong with you? You realise you just hit a superhero?” I scolded through my teeth.

“I didn’t realise at the time. He spoke with this deep voice and all I heard was: ‘I have your mom’. If that didn’t sound any alarms in your head, something is wrong with you.”

“With me? How could you — you know what? Let’s get mom inside, we’ll figure out what to with him later.”

Together we carried my mom to her room. I noticed how she had a couple scratches and her purse was missing. I tried not to think about all the possible bad things that could’ve happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to think of the good. I opted for not thinking at all.

I went back to assess the damage. I was surprised he hadn’t gotten up yet. I wonder how hard Terrance hit him.

I didn’t have long to ponder on it, because Terrance appeared with a jacket, hat and sunglasses.

“Put him in these,” he instructed handing the clothing to me. I was curious but complied either way. When I finished, Spider-Man looked really creepy. I looked back up at Terrance.

“So, you take his legs, I’ll take his arms. We sneak him out of the apartment and leave him around the corner. He’ll wake up and swing away. Easy peasy.”

It was not easy peasy. Superheroes are much heavier than they look. Much heavier. Walking down six flights of stairs while carrying an unconscious mutated super human is not fun. We managed to pass through the lobby without anyone stopping us or asking questions. We left him in a pile of garbage bags and walked away without looking back.

When we got back home, Terrance went to check on my mom. I went to my room and I could see him lying there on the ground from my window. Guilt crept its way up to my brain and forced me to grab one of my markers from my bag. I took it went back outside. Once there, I realised that I forgot to bring paper. So — very reluctantly, might I add — I lifted up a piece of his mask, revealing his cheek. I took out my pen and scribbled a short message.

I ran back my room. Terrance met me at the door. “Where were you?”

I waved the marker in his face. “I wrote an apology on his face, so when he gets back to wherever he lives, he knows it was an accident.”

“Let me see that.” He grabbed the marker as I walked past him to my bed. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, him visibly deflate. “Uh, MJ?”

I hummed in response.

“This is a permanent marker.’

I looked up at him and saw that he was right.

“Oh, well. Now he’ll know we’re really sorry.”

| prev | next |

[fangirlwithapen13]

I’m a lonely okay...that still counts

Okay so I had this typed and everything...then it flippin DELETED. IDK HOW! Ughhh so whatever enjoy...this is kinda a story that in a way happened to me...and I guess I think MC would have a similar problem...or hope they would anyway. Also haven’t posted in like foreveerrrr.

Oh yeah and it’s gonna be a multiparter cuz I write too damn long. ;)

Pairing: Jake x MC (also should I use (y/n) or stick with MC? Idk.

Warnings: ehh...a little swearing I guess.

Pov is MC

(^i have no idea what to put for the gif)

Have you ever had an idea that was really really good. And then you act on that idea and it turns out way better than expected? The idea was Raj’s. To bring everyone together in a gathering and force them to have a good time. There was liquor, a karaoke station, dance floor, and a dj station. There were lights and streamers and lanterns. It really looked beautiful.

Raj and I took a step back to admire our handy work and damn....we did such a good job. Raj smiled widely.

“Perfect. Now all we need is everyone here by sunset. That’s how we work together.” He looked to me. “Trust me.”

“You got it bud. Now...name your people.”

“Zahra, Sean, Craig, Lila, and Michelle are a definite yes.”

“Okay cool I’ll get Jake, Estela, Quinn, Diego, and probably Grace and Aleister.” I replied.

“Sweet. So meet back in the pool entry with the dudes at sunset.”

“BREAK!” I shouted. Raj stared at me. “Just...lets go...”

I walked inside looking for my recruitments. When I walked into the diner I saw Grace and Aleister talking at a table. I smiled watching them have a good time.

Reluctantly, I made my way over to their table and kindly waited till Grace realized my presence.

“MC!” Grace smiled widely. Aleister grunted but nodded in my direction. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much...but I would love it if you guys would do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Aleister asked raising an eyebrow.

“Okay well you know how there’s a lot of tension between basically everyone here? Well Raj and I might have a way to bring everyone together...” The two stared at me. “A party!”

“A party? You must be kidding...that is the most idiotic-“

“A party sounds great!” Grace smiled interrupting Aleister. Aleister glances at her with a confused expression. “We all know that everyone is a little on edge...so why not have something to bring us all to good spirits!”

“Thats the idea!” I smiled. “So can I count on you two to be there?” Aleister sighed and began to no doubt retort about how he wouldn’t be attending the party but not before...

“I’ll be there!” She smiled. Aleister gaped for a moment and then sighed.

“I suppose I’ll observe.” He muttered. I grinned.

“Perfecto! Be at the pool entry by sunset! See you guys then!” I cried as I stood up and skipped out.

Walking around aimlessly, without looking, I knocked into someone.

“WHOAA!” I yelled as I fell back. The person grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I realized that it was Estela.

“Be careful.” She muttered steadying me. She let go of my arm and began to walk away.

“WAIT!” I cried. She turned to face me with a raised eyebrow. “Sooo I know your not really a team player....but...I would really really really like it if you would come to this get together.”

Estela opened her mouth starting to protest.

“I know you don’t want us being nosy in your work and you want to be kept to yourself, but I just would really appreciate you being there. But if not it’s okay...I understand.” I said looking at my feet. She didn’t respond. I sighed and turned around, beginning to walk away. After a couple steps I heard a shout.

“MC! Wait!” I turned to see Estela sigh. “I’ll be there.”

“Really!?” I cried smiling. She chuckled.

“Yeah. Look...I can see this means a lot to you. So I’ll be there. But afterwards I’m out.” I jumped up once.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thanks!” I quickly hugged her before she could say anything and turn and started to run away.

“Wait! Where is it?” She asked. I skidded to a stop.

“Oh yeah right.” I smiled sheepishly. “Pool entry at sunset...see you there!” Then I wandered to Diego’s room.

I knocked on the door and leaned against it.

“Diegooooooo...” I muttered. I heard my best friend laugh from his room.

“MMMMCCCC.” He replied as he opened the door, and let me into his room. I laid on his bed with a smile. “What’s up?” He asked as he laid next to me.

“How would you like....to go to a party that’ll bring everyone together?”

“Eh yeah sure. Why not.” He replied. Wow, that was easier than I thought. I smiled.

“This is why we’re friends.” I declared.

“Why, cuz I’d go into anything headfirst if you were? Even knowing nothing about what I’m going to do? Yeah that screams loalty to me.” He laughed. I joined him and gave him a hug.

“What would I do without you?” I asked.

“Lord only knows.” He replied. “So who else is on your list of people to drag to this thing?”

“I need to talk to Lila, Quinn, and Jake.” At the mention of the pilot’s name, Diego grinned mischievously.

“Ooohhh~ Jake huh?” He asked, facing me. I could feel my face heat up, but I continued to act like it was nothing. After all, he’d never be into me. I mean, I was a girl in college who’d hardly ever got out of the city. Traveled? Sure! But actually live and have survival skills? Ha! No way. I just didn’t think I was his type.

That didn’t stop me from liking him though. Which actually kinda sucked. It had been forever since I had a real crush. A couple of guys on campus I thought were hot, sure. But actually liking someone continuously and seeing them everyday was something that hadn’t happened to me in a while. Even if seeing him everyday actually was trying to survive on this crazy island.

“MC.” Diego called again, waving his hand in front of my face. I blinked, my thoughts disappearing. “You absolutely blanking out after I said the dudes name says it all.” He smiled.

“N-no! Of course not! You know how silly that would be!” I replied standing up and making my way out of his room.

“Mhmm sure. Where you off to now?”

“I’m going to ask people to come to tonight’s party...”

“Jake?”

“NO! I-I mean yeah...I Uh have to....ish...you know what I don’t need to explain myself to you. Be at the pool entrance by sunset.” I recovered as I walked out. Even behind the now closed door of his room I could hear him laughing.

Rolling my eyes I made my way over to Quinn’s room, who was not very far away. I knocked on the door and almost immediately the red head appeared.

“MC! Hey!” She cried as she gave me a huge hug. I laughed as I hugged her back.

“Hey Quinn!” I replied.

“What’s up?” She asked as she pulled away to look at me.

“Well I know you hate all the fighting that’s going on,” I begun.

“It’s really bad...” Quinn said somberly. Her grin faded as the topic became clear.

“But!!! That’s why Raj and I have decided to through a party tonight.” Quinn’s smile returned, her face lighting with excitement. I smiled at her amusement.

“Really?! Oh my gosh! That would totally bring everyone together!” She said.

“That’s the plan.” I replied. “Go to the pool entrance by sunset and we could finally get them on the same page.”

Quinn nodded happily. I really admired her. She was kind to everyone and did whatever she could to make others happy. It was really one of her best qualities.

“Pool entry by sunset. Got it.” She gave me one last hug. “Hey I was going to the lobby right now. You wanna come?”

“I’d love to but, I have one more person to ask to this party.”

~~~~~time skip brought to you by I’m lazy~~~~~~

“Jake?” I asked. The pilot’s head turned, and his blue crystal eyes spotted me. He smirked.

“Heya Princess.” He greeted. I smiled in return.

He was sitting in front of the hotel. Oddly enough it was quiet and empty. No one normally came here since everyone was scared of being alone in a place like this.

Not Jake McKenzie though. No never Jake McKenzie.

I sat beside him on the warm cement, it being heated by the bright sun in the sky. At first we were silent, me not daring to embarrass myself and him probably not knowing what to say.

Finally I worked up the courage.

“You...come down here a lot?” I asked. Which was stupid.

Of course he came down here often. And what was I trying to do? Get him to open up to me? He must’ve noticed my inner frustration, because he chuckled and smirked.

“Every now and then sure. Besides, with Cap on my back, its the only place where I won’t be hassled.” then he glanced at me with a side eye. “You’re not gonna hassle me Princess, are ya?” I chuckled uneasily.

“Actually...” I started, avoiding his eye contact.

“Whatcha got for me?” He asked as he streatched out. I smiled as I turned his way.

“Jake...I know you don’t want to,”

“Great way to start.” He interrupted.

“But Raj and everyone else...” he grunted slightly, “and me, would like you to come to a party Raj and I set up.” Jake looked at me with blank stare. “Look, it’s just a get together to literally get us together. We need to work as a team if we want to get off this island.”

I couldn’t tell if Jake was taking the bait. He just examined me, his eyes seeming to view all of my features.

“So...” he finally started, “you want me to go to this party...to ‘connect’ with everyone, and basically pretend like I’m having a great time.”

“Maybe you will have a great time.” I suggested. He laughed in reply.

“Jeez Princess, you really think I can get along with some college kids?” He asked. I bit my lip nervously and shrugged.

“Maybe if you tried.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes, not looking at me. “Look you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s just...we really should patch the relationships. It would help to know that the people we’re stuck on this island with actually like each other. Especially if we don’t...” I stopped not even wanting to think of the possibilities.

Jake then turned back to me, once again studying me. After a couple of seconds he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You really care about this, don’t ya?” he asked. I mirrored his actions, sighing and running a had through my hair.

“I guess I kinda do...” I stopped for a moment. Then I looked back to him. “Look, Jake, you don’t have to-“

“Alright, I’ll go.” He said before I could finsih my sentence. I widened my eyes.

“R-Really?!”

“Yeah...if its really that important to you Princess, I’ll try.” Without knowing what I was doing, or without thinking it through, I hugged him tightly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I cried into his jacket. He was stiff at first, unsure what to do. Then he relaxed slightly, patting me on the back. Realizing what I did, I pulled back. “Uh, ahem, I mean...thanks.” He smiled.

“No problem.”

“Be at the pool entry by sunset.” I replied as I got up. Before I walked away I smiled at him. “See you then, Top Gun.”

“See ya then, Princess.” He replied with a smirk. And with that I walked away, not even trying to hide the skip in my step.