#like okay cool what else should I be wary of in these classes and should I bring boxing gloves to the next tutorial

[dampfoxes]

not to be dramatic but

[sondepoch]

HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger. 

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art 

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O 

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook 

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man’s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?” 

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book 

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill? 

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue,  doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style 

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you 

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t 

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it 

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up 

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do? 

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh 

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you” 

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow -  coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

Oh

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious: 

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

[magniloquent-raven]

soulmate au part 3!!!!

(read part 1 and part 2 here)

it takes three weeks for anything to happen.

they see each other at school, exchange glances in class, brush past each other in the hallways, fingers grazing as their shoulders bump, incidental touches that wouldn’t draw attention but still leave billy tingling and giddy and embarrassed at himself but…

he’s still getting used to having a soulmate. a real, tangible person he can reach out and touch.

and maybe he’d get used to it faster if he could touch him more, but life keeps conspiring against them. they can’t seem to get a second alone. when it isn’t steve’s kids are crawling all over him 24/7 it’s neil breathing down billy’s neck because he ran out on one fucking class.

well, and then had to lie to neil about why, which was probably what put neil on high alert, but still.

three goddamn weeks.

and neither of them have been patient about it. steve keeps writing billy notes. in the middle of class scrawling things like you have nice eyes and i wanna spend time with you and billy can fucking feel how smug steve gets about making him blush. it’s all he can do not to make a scene in front of half their peers. sometimes he’s not sure if he’d punch steve for being an asshole or kiss him for being sweet.

or both. he can do both.

but mostly he wants time, and somewhere to just...be. with steve.

and he gets that, three weeks after their conversation in the parking lot. steve’s parents will be out of town, and his kids have some stupid game night planned. max keeps asking to go but pretending she isn’t, badly feigning disinterest, and best of all, neil and susan are planning a weekend trip to visit susan’s bedridden aunt a few hours away.

billy is determined to take full advantage of those thirty-six hours. neither of them will acknowledge it directly, but he knows max will tell neil he was home all weekend if she has to. he has no reason to be nervous about being caught, or anything else. it’ll be fine.

it’ll be fine.

he tells himself that over and over but it doesn’t stop him from checking every corner of the house in case neil’s hiding behind a door somewhere before he can even think about getting ready to leave.

he checks again after he’s showered and dressed.

thankfully max is already gone, so she’s not there to see him pacing around like a neurotic rat in a maze.

it almost worse that he isn’t just anxious, he’s excited. and it’s making him twitchy.

there’s no plan. they aren’t going on a date or anything. he’s just...going to steve’s house. steve’s empty house. he’s going to be alone with his soulmate. the list of reasons why that scares him is endless.

and he’s not sure if he’s more terrified of the possibility that steve won’t ask about the makeup thing or the possibility that he will.

knocking on the harringtons’ front door is. an experience. it shouldn’t be. it’s just a fucking door. but billy’s palms are sweating and suddenly he has no idea what he’s even going to say, and he keeps glancing over his shoulder even though he doesn’t really know what he’s looking for, and it feels like he’s been standing on the porch for a fucking eternity but—

his worries don’t exactly melt away when steve opens the door but there is a warm flutter in his chest that’s...new. and distracting.

and steve smiles at him all sunshine and chocolate, and the second the door closes behind them he grabs billy’s hand, wide-eyed, questioning, watching billy’s reaction.

his palm is just as sweaty as billy’s and it’s gross, but also kind of comforting.

“hello to you too,” billy snickers, and steve visibly relaxes, lacing their fingers together properly.

“hi,” he breathes quietly, his gaze soft, but intense, focused. “waiting sucked, okay. i’ve been wanting to do that forever.” he shakes their joined hands for emphasis.

“...that all you were waiting to do?”

steve’s grin turns sly, and his gaze drops a little. “no.”

billy wants to kiss him. he wants to be kissed. he wants steve’s mouth on him, somewhere, anywhere, right now. it’s a nice mouth. he’s spent a lot of time looking at it, and thinking about it, about the way the steam from the showers turned his lips so, so red, wet and slick and both too close and too far away, wondering what he’d taste like—

but steve turns away, taking all the air in billy’s lungs with him. it’s so jarring a shift that billy actually sways a little before he gets ahold of himself and lets steve tug him by hand and lead him upstairs.

the wallpaper in steve’s room has to be some kind of hate crime, but billy doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because there’s a beige bag sitting conspicuously on top of steve’s neatly made bed. the clear plastic top is zipped shut, dusty with age and spilled powders, but billy can still make out tubes of lipstick and eyeliner pencils through the haze.

he stops in the doorway and stares at it, thoughts at a stand-still.

steve’s still clutching his hand, tighter now, and no longer pulling him along. “i—uh. the bag was my mom’s, i think. found it crumpled up under the sink, so, like. she probably doesn’t even remember it exists. and the stuff in it is...new.”

“...new,” billy echoes faintly.

“yeah. yeah, i—i bought it. had no idea what i was looking for though, so i hope i did alright.”

billy blinks at him.

“was—was that okay? i know maybe isn’t exactly a yes, but i kinda hoped it could be, y’know? it’s—it’s totally cool if it isn’t. if you’re—if you’re not up for it. or…” he trails off awkwardly and grimaces.

billy takes a breath. “i’m up for it,” he assures steve with more confidence than he feels.

and steve absolutely beams at him. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

turns out steve not knowing what he was looking for meant he bought...everything.

as billy pokes through the mess he tries not to feel too apprehensive. or at least tries not to let it show. too much. he chews his thumbnail, picking up an eyeliner pencil with the other hand. it’s good shit, all the products are, with fancy names for colours and designer labels. it’s all leagues better than the drugstore clearance shelf crap he lifted as a kid. which doesn’t make this any less nerve-wracking.

“it’s been a while since i did this, so. don’t expect it to be, fucking, art or anything.”

steve shuffles closer from his spot at the foot of the bed and touches billy’s knee. “the eyeliner earlier this year…?” he gestures vaguely at his own face, eyebrows raised.

“friend of mine did that,” billy mutters.

and then his whole goddamn life came crashing down around him because of it.

his anxiety spikes, and he drops the pencil back into the pile, shoving the bag away. “i can’t fucking do this,” he snaps, and he’s halfway standing already when steve reaches for him, alarmed.

“billy, wait—” the hand on his elbow is soft, gentle, but he still flinches away. steve withdraws, fingers curled, lips parted, shock and hurt at war on his face. “i’m sorry. i—shit, i’m sorry—”

“don’t.” billy shakes his head, pulling away further. his lungs hurt. there isn’t enough air in this room. “just—forget it. this was a mistake.”

he’s through the door and heading down the stairs before he can think about it, before steve can respond. he wouldn’t have heard him anyways, not over the echoes of his father’s voice that follow him no matter how fast he flees.

but he stops just short of leaving. stands on the ugly little mat by the front door and stares down at it, his forehead inches away from resting against the wooden doorjamb.

he doesn’t want to leave.

he doesn’t want to go anywhere but back upstairs.

and...he kind of hates it. he has no reason to want that. he barely fucking knows steve, and he certainly doesn’t owe him anything. not a look at his authentic self or even a fucking apology. nothing.

so why does he want to give him all of that and more.

why.

it’s fucking terrifying and ridiculous and confusing and…

“billy?” steve calls out tentatively, far enough away that billy doesn’t startle. he’s making his way down the stairs.

if he’s gonna run, it’s now or never.

now…

or…

he turns around, and leans back, his shoulder thudding heavily as he hits the wall. his eyes itch, and rubbing them doesn’t help.

“billy…” steve’s right in front of him now, hovering just shy of being close, worry etched into every line of his face. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have pushed, i’m sorry—”

“not your fault,” billy mumbles, muffled against his palm. “stop apologizing, harrington.”

steve sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “i...uh.”

“you were gonna do it again weren’t you.”

“...no.”

billy snorts quietly, head falling against the cold wallpaper at his back. “fuck,” he exhales, hand dropping to his shoulder. “look, this is...threatening to be the best fucking thing that ever happened to me, and good things don’t just—it never lasts. it always blows up in my face, and you should know that before you get caught up in it too.”

there’s an awful, drawn-out pause while steve purses his lips and tilts his head and looks billy up and down, his gaze gentle despite the scrutiny.

“i want to touch you,” steve says quietly. he waits for billy’s hesitant nod before he wraps his arms around and tucks his face into the crook of billy’s neck. “i’ve been waiting for you my whole life, hargrove, you’re not scaring me off that easily.”

and...billy always wanted to believe in the romantic notions people wrote about in songs. soulmates being destined for each other. epic, unconditional love. he never had any reason to believe it was real, but he clung to it anyway. despite the part of him that was wary, afraid of putting too much stock in something that might break his heart later on.

so for steve to just outright say it like that…so matter of fact. the reality of the situation smacks him in the face a little.

he puts his hands on steve’s waist, slipping under his shirt to rest against soft bare skin. touching him feels...right. when he lets himself feel, lets himself be here, in the moment. the sweet scent of steve’s hair, the warmth of his breath, the soothing pressure of his fingertips smoothing the wrinkled fabric of billy’s shirt. it all adds up to a feelings that billy can only describe as home.

not home like the place, but home like the warmth of sunlight and sand between his toes, ocean spray on his lips. a feeling he’s always had to chase to capture, but somehow it’s...here. quiet and still, and nothing like he’s used to, but it’s here.

and his touch seems to put steve at ease as well, he practically melts into billy’s embrace, which does strange and addictive things to billy’s heart.

but he can’t just shut his fucking mouth and enjoy the moment.

“bet i could, though. scare you off. i might, some day.”

“billy,” steve sighs, and pulls back enough to look him in the eye. “trust me when i say, you’ll never even make the top ten scariest things i’ve seen.”

and he wants to scoff, or feel insulted, or push the issue, start a fight, but. there’s a hollow look in steve’s eye. it’s not the face of some sheltered rich boy who thinks he’s a big man, no, there’s truth there. billy believes him.

stopping the tide of questions is almost physically painful, but he knows there’s no going down that road today. he’s hiding enough of his own skeletons to be sure they aren’t ready for that yet.

he might just be ready for something else though.

“i wanna try again.”

steve blinks at him, confused for a beat, two, and. “oh!” his lips part around the exclamation, distracting billy for a moment. “the—the makeup? you don’t— you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” he hesitates, and then presses a brief kiss to the tip of steve’s nose, startling a smile out of him. billy grins back. “i want to.”

[dreamii-yume]

ANOTHER ASK BECAUSE IM HORNY ASF-- IT'S STILL THE ANON WHO SIMPS FOR DEUCE BTW!!! I LOVE U YUME!! ❤️💕

Okay, so... Closet Pervert!Deuce 👀 just basically stealing anything from darling from her newly bought handkerchief, straws from drinks she sucked from, hell maybe even sneaking into her room and stealing her underwear hngg.... AAAAAA i just love the idea of him finally having the privilege of fucking darling when she finally consents(or not, i love ur non con works ughhh 😩) when it's finally his birthday, for him to fill her up a bunch of million times and going feral when he thinks about his precious best friend getting knocked up with his babies-- GAHDHFKFHAKDHAKA BARK BARK BARK--

Baby, I smell your hornii from way over here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I, too, LIVE for yandere closet perverts ♥︎

Warning : Dub-Con | Yandere | Kleptomania (?)

LOL Deuce probably doesn’t even realize this creepy-ass behavior most of the time, since I can see it starting off really innocent and sweet. Like— He loses his temper one day and got into a fight with another random mob. He won, he always do but in this particular fight, he didn’t come out unscathed and blood was shed. Maybe his nose bled or there was a cut on his lip, but it caught your attention nonetheless and offered your own handkerchief to help wipe up the blood and cover the wound until you both reach the infirmary.

The handkerchief was so potent of your scent and realized how fond he is of this smell, somehow making him feel so nostalgic and soothes him up. You basically gave him the first item in his collection, despite Deuce saying how he’ll wash and return it afterwards. Surprise, surprise,he never did return it not that you minded anyway nor ever washing the piece of cloth because he didn’t want your scent getting washed away in the process. Now, it sits at the top of his collection, still stained with his own dried blood from that day...Deuce lowkey considers it his favorite lol

AND THUS, stealing shit you probably won’t notice gone became habit little by little, even becoming a daily basis. The eraser you dropped? Nope, gone. You tried looking for it in the place it landed but for some reason, it’s not there, like it was just been swallowed by the ground...weird. Oh, and that pen you were chewing on as a way to quench your boredom during history class? You looked away one moment to watch the birds outside the window and looking back— Yup, it’s gone. Sometimes, Deuce would even offer to throw your trash for you, specifically when you just finished drinking a special limited-edition milkshake, only for him to...casually slip the straw out of the cup and pocket it in to add to his growing collection. He’s a soft boi to blush at the thought of indirect kissing if he sucks on it right after.

But the real problematic issue comes in when he starts to come into your room at every opportunity he gets. Whether it’s because you invited him in, or he sneaked his way in, it doesn’t matter if he can find a way and he always will. He begins to steal stuff that was now making you suspicious, like— you’re pretty sure you dumped your underwear in the laundry basket just a few minutes ago...huh, where did it go? Socks?You’re missing a pair. Bra? It’s not difficult to count in one hand how many you have, and you SWEAR there’s one missing in your closet. Shirt, a full-set of your daily outfit?? Okay, this is getting weird, it’s clear to you now that someone is stealing from you after denying it for so long, and that’s not good, not to mention creepy.

But you don’t know that it’s him and you don’t have to know! You’re more wary of your surroundings but that’s alright...Deuce thinks as he listens to you complain about this stalker you claim to have, a smile slowly forming on his lips and sweat dripping down his forehead...You look really cute being all pouty about your lost items here, it’s difficult to resist the urge to just...steal you away for a change.

DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED WHEN YOU FINALLY GIVE THIS “CONSENT”YOU SPEAK OF. Okay, maybe you developed feelings for him at some point, cool, that’s understandble— I mean, he’s a great listener, a sweetheart who’s willing to protect and provide for you, a true gentleman who wouldn’t hurt you ever. How could you not fall for this wonderful boi? So, as a birthday gift, you finally answered his call and tried quench his hornii, the thirst and give yourself to him...Well, yeah~ Maybe it’s great at first, since he’s really cute being inexperienced and wanting to learn more about pleasuring you sexually and all but...His actions surprisingly doesn’t seem to be that of an inexperienced individual at all, if you do say so yourself.

Once you give him that green light, there was no turning back as he, quite literally would pounce on you before you could even say anything else. His actions seem so practiced, like he was just waiting for this day to come, fantasizing every outcome and how to deal with it, what methods he should use. Deuce is that type of person to get lost in the moment after all, because goddamn you feel so good wrapped around his cock like this. He had been stealing from you for months without you ever considering him as a possible suspect, like a deranged kleptomaniac he is, but he could not describe the ecstasy he feels when the realization hits him of actually being able to steal your virginity away with mere words.

So, if you give consent, you can’t expect him to stop or to slow down at any moment, because— Um, you just can’t, Darling. Isn’t this supposed to be his birthday gift? Even you can’t shake him out of the goal of fucking you stupid, finding your special spots and thoroughly abusing those spots until it all goes sore that it would be difficult for you to even stand tomorrow morning. He wouldn’t be able to shut himself up too during an intense session most likely. Aggressively muttering about creating a family with you, and wanting you knocked up with his child, possibly suggesting more ones that sounded more like a threat rather than just dirty talking that you just clench against him out of instinctive fear. Unfortunately for you, it only motivates him further.

So, anyway— yeah...This happens.

[agustdakasuga]

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 4

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

You get closer to the wolves staying at your house. They seem to be the only ones that accept you, until a new student at school shows up. 

Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung and Kook.

These were the names of the 7 wolves that were now sharing a living space with you. (Yes, you realised wolves may know how to read) They have been here for slightly over a week. It was hard to leave all of them at home during the first few days but you knew you could trust Jimin would keep them in place. Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung would walk you to the bus stop every morning.

��Thank you.” You patted their heads as they stood by the edge of the forest, watching you head down to the bus stop. 

“I don’t like that she goes to school and gets bullied. She doesn’t deserve that.” Taehyung whimpered. 

“I don’t like it either but what can we do anyway?” Jimin sighed.

“Is there a way we can help?” Hoseok looked at his brothers. They turned around and went back into the forest. You sat in the bus and waited for your stop to come. 

Right now, you didn’t even want to go to school anymore. You just wanted to stay at home with the wolves and laze around rather than come here and get disturbed by the other students. Someone tried to trip you as you were going to your locker but you stepped over his leg. 

“The hell?” They whispered in annoyance. 

“Grow up.” You hissed and walked to your locker to exchange your books. 

“Someone’s got an attitude today.” Kira leaned against the lockers, arms crossed and an amused eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes, taking your books and shutting your locker. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Kira chased after you. She held your shoulder and instinctively, you slapped her hand away. 

“How dare you?” 

“Don’t touch me.” You shook your head. You backed away and quickly ran to class. Sitting down, you felt your heart racing. What was wrong with you? You rubbed your temples. Someone sat beside you and you heard gasps from the others in class. You looked up and met eyes with a very, very good looking boy. His head was propped up with his hand. 

“Umm...”

“Hi!” He greeted, his boxy smile appearing on his face. 

“Hey...?” You turned around. The other girls were obviously glaring at you for getting the attention of this stranger, unfamiliar boy. He was in the same uniform as you but you haven’t seen him before. 

“I’m new! My name is V!” He held his hand out. You looked at him in confusion, someone was definitely messing with you now. 

“Uh... hey.” You shook his hand uneasily. 

“What’s your name?” 

“It doesn’t matter... Look, you shouldn’t sit here. You can sit somewhere else.” You shook your head and turned around to face the window. There were some footsteps behind you, followed by voices. 

“Hi! You’re new right? Come sit with us. We can tell you everything about the school and show you around. You don’t have to sit here.” The girls put themselves around V’s arms. You snorted, these girls were all the same. All they want is the attention from a cute guy even if they don’t know him. 

“I’m not sitting here because I have to. I want to! Besides, I only want to sit with her. I want her to show me around.” V smiled and you turned back to face him. This guy was so weird. 

“But she’s a loser...” 

“I would appreciate you not use such harsh words towards her.” V almost growled but remembered where he was and masked it with a cough. 

“Now go.” V shooed them off and turned back to you. He stared at you with the same smile. 

“I’m (y/n).” You said softly. 

“Pretty name for a pretty face.” He complimented and you blushed. All the other girls were livid. Why was this new student so entranced by you? He only wanted to stick by you and talk to you. He never spared anyone else another glance. Even during lunch, he followed you to your locker for you to drop your books off. 

“The cafeteria is there.” You pointed. Girls were still giggling and whispering about him, pointing at him. 

“Great! Let’s go.” He smiled. 

“I don’t eat in the cafeteria. I’ll just see you in class.” You said quickly and walked away quickly, praying that he wouldn’t follow you. He almost reminded you of the wolves at home that would constantly follow you. 

V stood there in the hallway. He pouted and grabbed the lunch that Jin prepared for him from his new locker. He managed to beat the others at rock, paper, scissors to come. He wasn’t going to waste the chance by letting you distance yourself. 

With his wolf sense, he chased after you. He found you sitting under a big tree, eating your food alone. 

“Mind if I join you?” He appeared behind you. You jumped slightly, turning around and looking up to see V standing there with his lunch in his hands. You bit your lip, hoping none of his fangirls followed him. 

“I came alone.” He blurted. 

“Sure.” You nodded and turned back to your food. V sat beside you, digging into his own bento. Strangely, his food was similar to yours. 

“Where are you from V?” You asked. 

“Not far from here. I live with my brothers. We kinda move around here and there until we find a place to settle.” He explained. 

“That’s cool.” You hummed as you poked your food around. V looked at you with a soft smile on your face. These people were blind for not seeing how your amazing personality is but that may be biased just because you were their m-

“V?” You called. 

“Huh?” He broke out of his train of thought with a shake of his head. You couldn’t help but chuckle out of amusement. V reminded you of the wolf, Taehyung. Taehyung would always play around with Jimin and Jungkook but at the same time, he would enjoy time by himself. You have caught him staring into space in the backyard alone a few times. 

“Nothing. You just... remind me of someone...” You blushed. 

“You’re nice, (y/n). I would like to be friends.” V said seriously. staring into your eyes. You felt your heart race. 

“Why would you want to be friends with me? I’m a nobody, a loner, a loser.” You chuckled in disbelief. V’s heart broke as he heard you describe yourself with such hurtful words. 

“No, don’t say that. Don’t say such untrue things about yourself.” He cupped your face and whimpered sadly. You blinked at his actions. 

“Umm... Sorry!” He quickly pulled away when he noticed your stunned expression. He realised he may have been too close for a ‘stranger’ but hoped you would be scared away by him. 

“Sorry, I just don’t like it when people say such bad things about themselves.” V excused himself. 

“Thanks, V. We should go back to class now. The bell is going to ring.” You stood up and looked back at him. V grinned and pushed himself to stand up as he trailed after you. The students all looked at the two of you as you made your way through the hallways together. 

“Look at their jealous stares.” V leaned in to whisper as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and headed into class with you for the rest of the day. 

The other 6 wolves were roaming around the house. 

“The house will be done in a few days, what are we going to do?” Jin asked the others. Yoongi yawned, rolling over on his back. 

“Either we tell her or we just leave.” He said in a bored tone. Even if he called for the wolves to meet the other day, he wasn’t exactly happy with their decision but he couldn’t outvote them. 

“I’m not going to just leave her like that.” Jimin paced around. 

“Calm down, Jimin. It’s just a discussion. Now, your pacing is giving me a headache, stop.” Namjoon said. Jimin huffed but sat his butt down. 

“I think we should tell her so us moving away won’t seem so bad. But of course, we tell her in a planned out way. Not a ‘hey, we’re actually werewolves’ and transform into naked men right in front of her.” Jungkook yawned too, draping himself over Jin tiredly. The elder rolled his eyes, struggling to get out of the alpha grip of the maknae. 

“I agree.” Hoseok voiced. 

“It’s settled then.” Namjoon nodded and they got ready to go out for their daily run. Jimin sulked in a corner, still annoyed with this morning. 

“What’s wrong, Chim?” Jin asked his fellow omega. 

“Why did Tae get to go see (y/n)? I was with her first, I should have been to one to go. But then I had to lose at stupid rock, paper, scissors.”  Jimin whined. Jin laughed, using his head to bump Jimin’s lightly. 

“I know you met (y/n) first but soon, we’ll all have to just share her, alright?” Jin comforted. Jimin nodded reluctantly. 

“Let’s go for our run.” Jin stood up and walked out. The two came out and the pack took out into the forest. They passed by their big house that was getting built. There was a room for each of them and even if their old home was destroyed, they were excited to start anew. 

The feel of the wind through their fur was exhilarating. They ran until school ended and Taehyung came back to join them while you went to work. 

“How was it?” 

“Horrible!” Taehyung howled. 

“They treat her so badly and they even tried to separate me from her. It was absolutely horrible. And when I wanted to talk to her, she was so wary of me. As if I am pranking her!” Taehyung continued. 

“Humans are so mean to one another.” Hoseok’s ears drooped sadly. 

“The way she talked about herself was so hurtful. I asked her to be friends and she asked why because she’s a nobody, a loner, a loser.” Taehyung whimpered. The other wolves couldn’t help the growl that rumbled from their chests as they heard Taehyung’s words. You were not a nobody to them, well... most of them for now. 

“What should we do?” Jimin asked.

“Rip their heads off!” Jungkook declared. 

“Okay, as much as we all want to do that, we can’t just kill humans like that. We need to think of a way that let’s us still stand by her side and protect her without having to kill anyone.” Namjoon said. 

“We leave and come back as humans.” Yoongi finally gave a suggestion. Jimin opened his mouth but Yoongi cut him off. 

“I know she’ll be sad that we leave. But we can still fill that void as human friends. Then, when she’s ready, we tell her that we were the wolves. Simple as that.” Yoongi finished. 

“Good idea.” Taehyung nodded. 

“We’ll tell her that we’re leaving then stay in our house. I mean, she already knows what Taehyung looks like.” Jin said and everyone else agreed. Taehyung noticed that Jimin walked out the back door and into the backyard. He chased after his best friend. 

“Chim, what’s wrong?” 

“I know that we’re not actually leaving her but I know she’ll still be crushed. I don’t want her to cry again. I don’t want her to feel like we abandoned her like everyone else.” Jimin’s ears dropped. 

“It’s hard for all of us. I know you’re worried but we can’t stay as wolves forever just to be by her side. She needs to know the truth someday.” Taehyung shrugged.

“When the house is done, we’ll invite her over everyday and still hang out with her. Once she knows, it’ll be easier.” Taehyung smiled. 

“I hope you’re right, Tae.” Jimin looked up. 

-

“Let’s go or we’ll be late.” The wolves all went to the bus stop to wait for you to return from work. 

“She’s here!” Your scent was close by. When you walked up, you saw all 7 wolves standing there, waiting for you. It immediately gave you energy and made you forget your tiring day. 

“The whole pack is here, huh?” You chuckled and you pet their heads. 

“I have meat from the restaurant.” You held the bag up and they barked. The 8 of you went back to your cabin and you went to put your bag in your room. The boys watched as you tied your hair up and began cooking their dinner. Jungkook came up to you and pawed your feet, whining for just a taste as you cooked the lean pork. 

“You have to wait, Kookie.” You gently pushed him away with your foot. He leaned down on his front paws, whining cutely. 

“Alright, alright.” You picked a small piece and gave it to him. Soon, there were more footsteps and you turned to see 7 wolves staring at you, their tails wagging excitedly. 

“It’ll be done soon, guys. If you keep sneaking food, there’s not gonna be enough.” You chuckled. 

“Go.” You pointed to the couch. They whined but you gave them a look, not giving in. There may be alphas but you were certainly the alpha of the house. They sadly trudged back to the couch, sitting down and watching you. 

“Dinner!” You called and they ran over. They waited for you to put their food down, a mix of meat and rice. You grabbed some kimchi for yourself but ate more of less the same thing as them. They ate the lean meat while you ate the pork belly. 

“You know, I made a new friend today. He’s really nice, a little weird but really nice.” You said as you chewed. They looked up at you. 

“You guys are messy.” Reaching out, you picked away any stray pieces of rice that stuck to their snouts with a laugh. Taehyung mentally smiled as you described him today. 

“I hope you guys had a good day too.” You ruffled Hoseok’s fur with a smile. 

After eating, you cleaned up and went to shower. You were so tired from the long day and didn’t even have the energy to do your homework but you knew you had to. You grabbed your papers and went downstairs. 

“Sorry, guys. I just thought working here may keep me awake more.” You yawned and sat down by the coffee table. 

“Hello.” You giggled as Yoongi came over and lie down next to you, resting his head on your lap. This was the first time Yoongi displayed any sort of closeness with you. But you weren’t going to harp on that. As you wrote down your work with one hand, your other was running through his soft, white fur. You noticed that he fell asleep rather quickly. 

“I know one day, you guys will have to go back. You can’t stay here forever right?” You turned to rub Jin’s ear. The wolves all looked at you sadly. 

“But can you guys visit from time to time?” You chuckled. Jungkook came up to you and nuzzled against your cheek, making you smile and kiss his muzzle. The others all surrounded you. 

“It’s biology, Joon.” You said as Namjoon rested his head on your shoulder to see the papers in front of you. 

The wolves stayed awake as you did your work, except Yoongi. Jin turned away from his conversation with Namjoon to see your head bobbing. 

“Guys.” Jin called, nodding over to you. 

“She’s asleep.” Jungkook bent down to look up at your face. They transformed and even woke Yoongi up but the white wolf didn’t transform. Namjoon carried you onto the couch as Jimin laid a blanket over you. Yoongi crawled over you, laying on your stomach. 

“Yoongi hyung.” Taehyung hissed in jealousy. Yoongi snorted and turned to face the other way. 

“Is she done with her work?” Hoseok asked Namjoon. Namjoon sorted through your papers to see that you actually finished your work before you fell asleep. Jin stacked together, keeping your stationary and putting it aside. 

“We should head to bed too. It’s late.” Namjoon said and Jimin went to turn the lights off. They all transformed back into wolves and slept around you. 

You were woken up by the sunlight streaming in. 

“Oh no!” You shot up, scaring Yoongi off you. He growled in shock while you scrambled over to your phone to see that it was already 10 am, you were so late for school. 

“Ah... I’m late.” You sighed, throwing your head back. Yoongi stood there, staring and blinking at you. 

“Sorry, Yoongs.” You reached over to stroke his head. Maybe it was the world telling you to take a break. You called in sick to work for the night as well so you could spend the day at home. The other wolves woke up from the commotion and Jimin saw the time. His eyes widened at the time and the fact that you were still in the kitchen. 

“She’s late!” 

“Relax, Chim. We all woke up late so she just decided not to go today. She called in sick to work as well.” Yoongi explained, stretching his limbs. 

“That’s good. She deserves a break.” Jungkook pointed out and the rest nodded their heads. They trotted over to you to wish you a good morning. You fed them breakfast and had some fruit for yourself. 

“Hey! That’s mine!” You scolded as Jin stole your strawberry. You hugged the bowl to your chest, turning away, only to have a wet nose bump into your cheek. 

“Gimme!” Jungkook drooled.

“No, Kookie. You all already ate.” You lightly pushed his muzzle away from you as you continued eating. 

When you were done, thanks to the wolves trying to constantly steal your food, you changed into some outing clothes. The wolves went running every day, maybe you would follow them for once. You wore your shoes and they barked at you to hurry up. 

“Alright! Go easy on me, okay?” You joked as the wolves took out. You ran behind them. Of course, they were wolves, you weren’t going to try and outrun them. You all ended up in the same big field as before. 

“It’s a good day.” You fell onto the grass. Taehyung jumped on top of you, nipping at you playfully. 

“Yoongi, don’t be a stranger.” You teased, patting the space beside you. Yoongi rolled his eyes and trudged over, sitting down. 

“Your white fur is so beautiful.” You ran your hands through. 

“I know.” Yoongi smirked, making the others glare at him. You stayed in your spot while you watched the wolves run around you and playfully tackle each other to burn some of their energy off. 

“You guys need a bath when we get home.” You shook your head. They all whined and whimpered in protest. They hated showering in wolf form. 

“Oh, come on. You’re big bad wolves, a little bath shouldn’t scare you.” You scoffed. The 7 wolves followed you back to your house and you kept them outside since you didn’t want your floors to be covered in mud. You grabbed a bucket and some dog shampoo you bought the other time. Laying everything out, you grabbed the hose by the side of the house. 

“Come on. One at a time. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go in.” You coaxed. 

“You go!”

“No, you go first!” They internally debated. Seeing as to how long they were taking, you grabbed Jimin first. 

“It’s cold!” He yelped as you sprayed water onto him. You cooed as you squirted the shampoo into your palm and rubbed the dirt off his fur. After that, you rinsed all the soap off. 

“Here’s a tow- Yah! Jimin! Stop!” You tried to shield your face away from the water droplets due to Jimin’s shaking. You laughed and wiped your face. 

“Next!” You washed each wolf until you were done. 

“Yah! Guys! Seriously!” You whined as you tried to prevent them from splashing you. Mentally, they were all laughing and smiling at how adorable you were. You gathered everything headed back into the house. 

“You guys are all squeaky clean now! Doesn’t it feel good?” You asked and they gave you a flat look. 

“Whatever, ungrateful. I need to shower.” You headed upstairs to take a warm shower. You scrubbed everything, making sure to get all the sweat and dirt off your body. Hearing the shower running, the boys decided to transform back into their human selves. 

“Ugh, hate the smell of dog shampoo.” Yoongi grunted. 

“At least we got a shower.” Taehyung shrugged. Jungkook grabbed the towel that only you used and rubbed his wet hair. 

When they heard your humming and the bathroom door close, they changed back. You made some tea for yourself and gave the wolves. You curled up against Namjoon and closed your eyes for a short nap. 

~~

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[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 7. roof

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[warnings: violence mention, smoking, suicide mention]

"i love this feeling. this feeling of calm." — When you and Sal left the unoccupied classroom, the halls were already bustling again. It was easy to remain unseen, as the both of you gently shut the door behind you and slipped into the crowd.

You'd both missed the entirety of your first class.

The school's faculty was unreliable, though—maybe you'd get away with it.

You knew you looked like a hot mess, so you kept your head down as you walked alongside Sal through the halls. He was silent for the time being—but you knew he was there because he walked closely to you.

"Your lipgloss," you hear him say. You look away from the floor to meet his eyes, gazing up at him curiously. "It's messed up."

You nervously laugh. "I'm sure it is—that's what I get for wearing a colored one. I'm sure you're wearing some too, now."

He chuckles, silent for a moment. You bet he's licking his lips. "Yeah. Tastes nice."

Your face feels tingly all over. You raise your fingers to touch your lips, skim over the skin just around them—and sure enough, the sticky residue is all over. You'd kissed most of it off, but a good amount of it had just smeared.

"I'm gonna go freshen up," you say, gesturing toward the girls' bathroom. "I was just laying on a floor a few moments ago."

Sal follows your line of sight. "Okay. I'm gonna head toward my next class. Text me if anything happens."

You smile and wiggle your fingers in farewell as he turns and walks into the dense crowd of students. You breathe out a shaky sigh as a feeling of complete and utter disbelief washes over your body.

When you entered the bathroom, you avoided locking eyes with anyone else inside of it—instead, you made a beeline for a roll of paper towels, ripping off a sheet and crumbling it up in your palm. You moved toward the sink, turned it on, and passed it beneath the steady stream of cold water running from the faucet. You then raised it to your lips and wiped the stickiness off.

Once you'd done that, dried your lips, and thrown the paper towels away, you allowed yourself a moment to stare into the mirror.

It was kind of hard to look at yourself. Every time you made eye contact with your reflection, all you saw was the sight of a head with blue hair between your legs—and pale hands clad with silver rings holding your thighs open.

Your body began to feel fuzzy, so you whisked the thought away, fixed your hair, and continued to your next class.

When it was time to gather in the cafeteria, you ran into Ashley on your way toward it.

"Hey!" She called, approaching you from one side of the hallway. She tucked a wispy strand of hair behind her ear, blinking down at you with lash-fringed green eyes. "Let's walk together."

You had no problem with that. "Sure."

You absentmindedly watched her pull her sleeves down to make sweater paws as the two of you walked side by side.

Your lips felt dry. You wished you knew where your lipgloss had gone. It had been in your jacket pocket earlier—but had fallen out or gotten lost inside of it. You had no clue, but chalked it up as a mysterious disappearance and accepted the loss.

The both of you found Todd first, then Larry and Sal who were together.

A nervous feeling swirled in your gut. You knew Sal wouldn't, you trust him—but something inside of you feared that he'd told Larry what had happened. Which made no sense, on your part. Sal definitely wasn't the type to get up and tell someone directly after having a sexual encounter.

Your anxiety worsened for a different reason when you'd realized that Sal and Larry weren't interacting like you were used to. Larry's body language was stiff—and his features were drawn into a frustrated expression.

The whites of his eyes weren't red anymore, though, so you guessed his high wore off.

Sal didn't seem to be in the same bitter mood the other boy was, but you'd grown accustomed to reading his body language in a lot of different situations—and he didn't seem as chilled out as he normally would be.

Sal was a laidback person. Seeing him so tense was strange.

On the way into the cafeteria, you and Sal were momentarily separated from the rest of the gang after a group of students cut the two of you from the other three. Even though you had this moment of alone time, you didn't ask Sal about his and Larry's behavior. It wasn't your business.

You felt ringed fingers wrap around yours. Your heart jumps, and you seriously think Sal is going to walk you into this cafeteria by the hand—but instead, he raises your arm and places something in your palm.

You look down. It's that pink tube of cherry-flavored lipgloss.

You laugh and meet his eyes. "Where did you find it?"

"I- uh, went back into that classroom," he replies. "I left a ring in there."

The crowd is thinning out, and you watch your friends settle at a table. You redirect your attention back to Sal, inclining your head toward him. "Why did you take them off, anyway?"

He speaks to you closely, leaning toward the side of your face so he can speak lower. His hand ghosts your waist.

You've quickly begun to understand that a huge part of your.. involvement.. with Sal involved a good amount of touching. You weren't uncomfortable with touching him, and that gave him the confidence to not be scared of doing the same to you.

"I thought I'd be using my fingers," he answers, the tone in which he speaks a bit nervous, as you place the lipgloss tube in your jacket pocket. "But I got carried away, I guess."

Your heart pounds against your ribs, anxiousness rushing through your blood more so than your blood did. You want to reply, continue this conversation—but you know this interaction has been going on for too long and you can practically feel someone's eyes burning holes through your back.

You hadn't realized how close you were to him until you'd stepped back. "Come on, we should sit before-"

Before you can even finish, someone's rested their hand on your shoulder. You jerk, instinctively whirling towards the person and bumping back into Sal. You steady yourself quickly and look up to lock eyes with Travis.

"Holy shit," you breathe, genuinely startled. "What the hell?"

Sal hasn't said anything, yet. But you know he isn't very shy. He isn't really afraid of Travis.

"You're in my way," Travis sneers, not looking at you, but at Sal. "Move."

You look around you before meeting his dark eyes and giving him a deadpan expression. You weren't blocking anyone's way, as countless students were continuing to file around the both of you and head towards their tables. "There's more than enough room for you to walk around us." You reply even when he isn't speaking to you.

Travis's gaze locks with yours, pupils dilated. He looks back to Sal. "Your friend here really loves to involve herself in our business, doesn't she, Fisher?"

Your jaw clenches.

"You involved her whenever you touched her," Sal says lowly. His voice grows deeper as he speaks slower. "If you have something to say to me, talk to me."

Travis's face slowly grows red with rage. He jerks, his cross necklace glistens in the corner of your eye, and suddenly his fingers are gripping your arm. You barely have time to process before you're pulled just a bit and your blood goes cold.

It's not like he's yanked you hard enough to hit the ground—but you stumble, just a bit, and now you're closer to him. His initial grip didn't affect you, but the moment he'd tightened his fingers to pull, it hurt.

You hear the sound of someone abruptly standing off of their seat. You know it's Larry, you saw the mood he was in—and you pray something happens before he can make his way over here and beat Travis to a bloody pulp.

All because of you, everyone would be in trouble.

What happens is not what you expect.

Sal reaches forward, wraps his long fingers around Travis's skinny wrist, and hastily rips the other boy's hand off and away from you. Your mind goes blank and the feeling of your raging heartbeat dissipates when he laces his cool fingers through yours and tightens his grip around you.

He flicks his eyes over Travis' paling face, meets his wide eyes, and leads you off.

It doesn't take very long to reach the table. Just before you've parted through another small crowd of teens, Sal lets go of your hand. You have nothing to complain about—you knew it wouldn't last long.

You assume the number of people bustling through the cafeteria would have obstructed your friends' view a bit, so you doubt they saw the handholding. You knew that they'd seen the altercation, though—because you'd heard Larry jump from his chair.

As soon as you've finished easing into your seat, someone's speaking.

"So?" Larry starts, impatiently flexing his fingers atop the table. He looks you straight in the eyes and continues, "What'd Travis say? Why did he grab you? Do I need to-"

"He was just being Travis, Larry,"  Sal cut in, tone short. You witnessed each and every person at the table's eyes widen. Your heart jumps a bit, too—you've never heard him sound like that. "He'll probably try to find me after school later and beat the shit out of me. I'd let him, at this point."

"He's never done that before, though," Ashley points out warily. "This time won't be any different than any other time, right?"

"Not unless something else happened," Todd speaks up about the matter for the first time, swallowing a bite of his sandwich.

"But it was different," Sal breaks in again. "I touched him."

Larry's dark eyebrows jump. "Did you hit him?"

"No." You assert for Sal, nervously glancing his way. "Nothing like that."

Everyone at the table seemed like they wanted more information—shifting in their seats anxiously (save for Todd) and casting inquisitively wary glances toward Sal—but you guessed no one wanted to make Sal any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be.

Eventually, Larry dissolved the intensity with a joke and eventually a conversation started back up. You put your input in occasionally, wanting to make an effort and be present.

That was a bit hard, though—considering Sal's current timidity. He hadn't spoken for the rest of lunch and barely acknowledged anyone on the way out of the cafeteria.

When your classes had finished for the day, it was time to attend detention.

That was uneventful as well. Sal was placed on the opposite side of the classroom, so even with the teacher who was nodding off and pounding rain concealing any noise you would have produced, you couldn't have genuinely spoken with him.

On the way home from school, the sound of squeaking wet grass and squelching mud beneath your feet grew very unbearable and you quickly broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Sal, but-"

"You should just stay away from me."

Your heart jumps. It seems to leap from a cliff because it seems to settle in the pit of your stomach. "What?" Your eyes fly towards his prosthetic face, wishing you could search it for anything—but you can't. "Sal, what do you mean?"

"This'll just keep happening. I shouldn't have involved myself with someone like you in the first place."

"Someone like me?" You echo, feeling a bit faint. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Someone who deserves better than the likes of me," he says lowly. "You don't deserve to be grabbed and made fun of just for associating with someone, Y/N. I don't want that for you."

"I don't give a shit, Sal," you bite, tugging at your backpack straps roughly. "I think I can choose who I hang out with."

Sal's quiet after that. It's torture, listening to the breeze rustle the tree leaves and whistle past your ears for 5 whole minutes. Something that calmed you so greatly now made you feel like punching something. You just wish he'd speak.

He does after that thought. "I just want something good for you. I don't want someone else to be dragged into the mess that's my life. Within a few days, Larry's already gotten you fucking high as a kite, you've had to deal with Travis more than once.."

You wrinkle your nose. "I'm not an angel, Sal. I hadn't gotten high before I met you because I didn't have friends—I wasn't tainted because of you or Larry. And as for Travis, he's just a dick. We've all had to deal with someone like that in our lives."

You're both now stood on the pale concrete of the sidewalk. You watch Sal's blue hair blow a bit, the sky blue shade of the strands blending prettily against the multicolored sunset behind him.

"You don't know me," he tries.

"You don't know me," you reply.

The mask shifts and he looks down at his shoes. You follow his gaze, tracing the color of his cornflower blue sneakers.

"I think we shouldn't do this anymore," Sal mumbles quickly, and you wouldn't have picked it up if you hadn't been straining to hear him so much.

You swallow thickly. "Do what?"

He does the same, Adam's apple moving against his throat. "Whatever.. this is."

Your eyebrows pull down. "For 'my sake' or because you don't want to bother with me anymore?"

Sal doesn't reply, flexing his fingers and standing there helplessly. He avoids your eyes and chooses not to reply.

"You're not supposed to choose what's right for me," you chide. "You can't-"

His head jerks up, and he seems to snap. "I don't want this anymore. There, is that good enough?"

Your heartbeat stutters, and you feel the blood draining from your face. Initial confusion and shock are quickly replaced by vexation and frustration. You turn around and hastily walk away, away from Sal and leaving him behind you.

You walk, and walk, and walk. You continue even when the sun disappears behind the line of Nockfell's horizon and when the stars show themselves in the sky. The night is even colder than the day and continues to grow even more frigid as your legs carry you away.

Eventually, your feet are too numb to continue, and you settle on the sidewalk. You shiver, the night's breeze gusting into your face. You pull the denim jacket you wore closer to your chest.

You try not to think about it too hard, but the thoughts are intrusive. You've never felt stupider than you did at this moment.

He didn't want to deal with you anymore. You should have never involved yourself in Travis and Sal's business. You'd just made it all worse for him. He didn't want to have to protect you—who would?

It was over. Whatever it was—it was gone.

Eventually, you find yourself laying on your side. The concrete is cool against your cheek, and the wind is even cooler.

The cars stop coming. You don't know what time it is, and you don't want to check.

You stare out at the sideways road for a while, and eventually the numbing cold lulls you into a dreamless sleep.

You're not even fully awake when a blinding light is shining into your closed eyelids. You groan, pressing the palm heels of your hands into your eyes before blinking them open. In front of you, a vehicle has pulled to the side of the road, just up against the curb. The headlights are way too bright to tell the make or model, or even the color.

"Holy shit, that's Y/N!"

You pull your body into an upright position, wincing as your stiff joints protest your movements. You're barely on your feet before someone's firm hands are on your shoulders. You blink, your eyes trailing from a male's chest to his face.

It's Larry. And stood not far behind him are both Todd and Ashley.

Well, that's certainly a sight to see. Despite your disorientation and overall confusion, you still find it within yourself to feel embarrassed.

"Are you alright?" Todd asks, adjusting his glasses and stepping to Larry's right. "We were driving by and saw someone sleeping on the sidewalk, and turns out it was you."

Suddenly. Ashley is on Larry's left, her pretty features twisted into an expression of terror. "What are you doing out here? It's one in the morning."

You blink fast, absentmindedly raising your hands and placing them atop Larry's which are on your shoulders. He was the only thing steadying you right now. Your body felt weak and sore and your feet were stinging.

"I'm- I'm fine," you breathe. "I sat down and I fell asleep."

Everyone in front of you exchanges concerned glances before returning their attention to you.

"Y/N," Larry speaks first. "I'm sorry for letting you smoke so much. Maybe you're still high-"

"I'm not high," you scratch the back of your head. "That wore off a while ago. I just.. was walking.. for a while."

That was when you finally realized the proximity Larry's hands were to the bruises on your neck. Nonchalantly you slid his fingers off of your shoulders and pushed your hair to shadow the bruised flesh.

It was too dark to see much out here. You doubted they saw anything.

After answering the same question a few more times over ("You're sure you're okay?") you all climbed back into Ashley's vehicle, Todd in shotgun and Larry in the seat beside you, and began the drive to Addison Apartments.

Soon after the vehicle began to move the volume of the radio had been turned higher. The tranquil sound of an acoustic guitar soothed your aching skull as you watched the streetlights pass by. You leaned your head against the window, the cold glass pressing against your forehead spreading a chill down your face.

You breathed slowly. Every puff of hot air that escaped your lips blurs the glass before the frigidity of the window itself evaporated the fog. This sequence continues until you've arrived at Addison Apartments.

You hadn't even realized Todd had been dropped off already until you looked at him to say goodbye and he wasn't there.

Ashley bid both you and Larry goodbye and drove away. Silence hung between the both of you until you entered the bittersweet interior of Addison Apartments. But, for once—the atmosphere of the ground floor calmed you. The lights were dimmed, and a shaded lamp was the main light source of the lobby. The walls were cast over with a calming golden hue.

It reminded you of home—a home you'd never known.

"Weren't you with Sal?" That's the first thing Larry says to break the newfound silence. "You had detention together."

You hesitate. "Yeah. We went to detention—didn't see him afterward."

Larry searches your face with deep, cryptic eyes. "I'm seriously sorry about the weed," he states, the tone on his tongue sincere. "That was my bad—and I see that now. Sal told me how high you got, dude."

Your heart tumbles in fear. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing—just how you'd ran into each other and you were high."

"Was that the reason things were so tense between you before lunch?" This genuinely made you curious.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I think that's why he was kinda snappy. He's never really like that when it comes to Travis. Sal's a patient guy—he usually just avoids talking about anything at all after a confrontation with Travis."

You didn't want to talk about him or any of it anymore. You wanted to climb in bed and stare up at your ceiling and listen to the dead air and the static in your ears. "I just-" you swallow. "I... never mind. I'm gonna head up and get to bed."

Larry blinks down at you, his inquisitive eyes searching for something. "Alright. Get some shuteye, dude. Okay?"

"Okay," you murmur, nodding tiredly and retreating toward the elevator. Larry walks back outside—you assume to light a cigarette—and you step into the elevator. As soon as those doors close, the light inside shuts off.

You're too tired to jump in surprise or feel fear. Instead, you wait it out and walk to your apartment once you're free.

Once you've unlocked the door and stepped lightly to your room, you fish your flip phone from the depths of the pocket in your denim jacket and open it up.

Sal :) Missed Call (3)

Sal :) just let me know you got home safe

Sal :) i'm on the roof if something's wrong

That message was sent 11 minutes ago.

Maybe he'd still be there.

But why would you want to go after what he'd said to you? Why would you want to see him so soon?

How would he have even got to the roof, anyway?

Despite yourself, and all of your better judgment, you go towards your window and slide it open from the bottom. Sure enough, the stairs of the fire escape sit just below the sill. You swing a leg over it, then the other, and pull yourself onto the metal steps. They rattle a bit, but they're steady.

You pull the majority window closed (leaving just a bit of space so you can get it back open) and head up the steps of the fire escape.

It doesn't take long to reach the top. Whenever you step on the roof, despite the fact your feet are planted on something firm, you sway dizzily.

Maybe you had a fear of heights.

There he is. He's sat on the edge, legs hanging over. His back is to you, but you can make out the fact that he's holding a cigarette by the way smoke trails from in front of him into the sky.

You walk forward, making slow movements. You then step beside him and lower yourself to where you're sitting on the edge with him.

And as you stared out into the night, felt the breeze grow warm, almost like it had done so for you—all that you felt was inner peace. Your feet swung back and forth, nothing below to catch them but a free fall and the concrete.

You looked out at the sleeping town and the golden streetlights that lit it.

"Do you ever think about it?" Sal murmurs, his voice is a bit clearer than it was normally because of the way his prosthetic was halfway unbuckled. You heard the crackle of a cigarette and then smelt smoke.

"Think about what?"

"Jumping," he replies. "What if we jumped together?"

Your chest tightens painfully. "Sal-"

"Think about it," he says. "No one would know what went through our minds when we jumped—they'd never stop talking about it. Nothing ever happens here. Something like that.. you'd feel important."

"You wouldn't feel anything," your voice shook despite your best efforts. "You'd be gone for everyone. All of the people who love you now would only lose you."

Sal stays silent, taking a drag from the cigarette and inhaling.

"I know how it feels to want to be missed. To want to feel appreciated." Your hand grows closer to his. "I know that's how you feel. The difference between us, though—you're loved, you're probably even missed when you skip a day of school," you smiled softly. "I'm not. I know what being unloved looks like, Sal. You're not that."

You turn your head to meet his gaze. Moonlight shines against the white of his prosthetic face. He blinks those blue eyes slowly, tiredly. Instead of saying anything, he closes the distance between your hands and locks your smallest finger with his.

"I didn't mean what I said," he whispers, smoke falling out of the mask. "It's sick but I told you that because I care."

Your shallow breaths are barely audible to yourself beneath your racing heart.

"I want to take it at a pace with you, Y/N," he continues. "I don't want to fuck it all up. I wish I could just get up and leave you here so you wouldn't have to deal with me but I can't do it."

You hesitated. "Why not?"

"I don't know."

"I don't want this to be over," you breathe. "I know you don't want me to involve myself with you because you're scared of what will happen. But this involves me, too. This is about both of us. Let me decide for myself."

Maybe he was right. Maybe you shouldn't be doing this—involving yourself with the mess that is Sal Fisher. There's too much you don't know about who he is.

But you wanted to try.

"We can take it slow," you assured. "I understand you're scared but there's nothing to be afraid of."

Your hand inches over his, interlacing your fingers, your palm on the back of his hand. You squeeze them in comfort, not searching for any reciprocation, but it's given anyways.

Nothing is said after that. You sit with him until you're drifting into sleep while sitting upright. You know you can't leave him here—so you wait until he's ready to go home.

You can wait.

[shoichee]

So...👉🏼👈🏼 Could you make a headcannon of ( any characters u want ) reacting to their crush, reader. Being the leader and main dancer in the dance club? Like this...

The characters were walking down hallways while having an conversation ( or arguing?). Then, suddenly they hear a music and see their crush, a beatiful but confident female, practicing the coreo with all her club a dance that they would show the whole school during the lunch. If not, then thank you for at least reading my request.

By;; One of your fans and, of course, readers.

hello, my anon! thank you so much for reading my stuff and supporting me <33 without further ado... here are some long headcanons!

[Dancer f!reader]

Kuroko Tetsuya

he usually hangs out with the Seirin basketball team, where they would all often hide behind the hallway corners to eavesdrop on Riko’s and Hyuga’s next plans for training camps

as they all (not so quietly) trailed after the coach-captain duo down the hallway for them to turn left, Kuroko hears a soft orchestral sound coming from the right turn of said hall

his teammates were too rowdy to even discern the tune in the first place and they only cared to find out where their next torture session would be at, so they all took the left hallway

but Kuroko knew that sound from anywhere… after all that’s all you’ve been practicing to for the past month during breaks and after school

this was one of the few occasions he was glad that he had no presence, because he easily slipped away from his friends to find the source of the melody and to find you in particular

he wordlessly tracks down to your practice room, all the while having his head completely in the clouds… though his face was as stony as ever and gave no sign of his lovestruck affliction

the doors were obviously closed but he could still peep into the room through its windows, and there you were, enveloped in sheer tulle and a natural glow of an experienced performer

you were so completely engrossed into your pirouettes that Kuroko, despite seeing your solo routine alone together after school, can’t help but have sparkles in his eyes as he fixates on your passion and form

his mind drifts to the time he first met you after a home game, and he saw you approaching Riko to congratulate her on a preliminary win before you actually noticed Kuroko and directly praised him for his assisting skills as well

and boy was he SHOOK, he faltered a bit before he managed out a polite “thank you”

it was probably attraction at first sight, he’ll admit, but he actually started to fall for you when you would always come to the home games to support Riko (you unfortunately couldn’t come to away games because of your schedule as a club leader for dance), and pretty soon, you got to chat with a few of the Seirin players as well (including Kuroko)

you knew what you wanted to do for your career and you had everything set out and planned, and Kuroko found that really admirable

someone with a cool head, powerful aura, and charisma kind of reminded him of Akashi and he was here for it

and then he completely fell head over heels when he saw you dancing for the first time during club rush week at the beginning of his 2nd year… it was the way your gaze was so focused, and nothing else mattered to you except the performance, similar to how the Generation of Miracles would enter into the zone—

“Tetsuya?”

“A-ah..”

he didn’t realize that he completely zoned out (pun not intended) because it looks like your club was already done with dress rehearsal, and everyone else was beginning to pack up; you were standing right in front of him, holding the door open

“Sorry, am I in the way, (y/n)-san?”

“Naw, don’t worry,” you said. “Just saw you standing there and I was wondering if you needed something from me.”

yes, he wanted you to reciprocate his feelings, as selfish as he knew it was

“Nothing. Just heard something familiar and stopped by to see.”

“That’s very typical of you,” you chuckled. “Say, are you going to watch our showcase during lunch in a few hours?”

“The showcase advertised all over the bulletin, right?”

“Yeah.”

ah, that’s right, your club was planning to do a free showcase preview during lunch in the auditorium to advertise your ballet recital in a week

“Yeah, I’ll be there to cheer you on this time.”

“Pffftt, you’re too serious,” you laughed, ruffling his hair. Kuroko would normally be irked at the action, but with you, your touch was comforting. “I don’t mind coming to your games, I come for fun, and I don’t think of them as obligations. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know most find ballet pretty dull—”

“I want to go, though. I don’t find it boring, (y/n)-san,” Kuroko said with a smile

your eyes widened as your hand in his hair stilled

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Since when were you into ballet?” you hummed, clearly meant to tease him in good fun, and you started to ruffle through his hair again

“Ever since I fell for you.”

Kise Ryota

Kise, even though being an idol-figure himself, is a fanboy of many idol groups and bands

he’s always looked for you during breaks, knowing you’d be in the dance room to practice with your small group of members

why? well, he wants to see you dance, especially when your club does dance covers of other prominent idols

he’s tried (emphasis on tried) to ditch practice once in a while to go see you in your element, even if it’ll always end up with him being pulverized by Kasamatsu himself

this time though, when he heard that your club was going to cover some big-hit performances during the schoolwide pep rally during lunch, he couldn’t resist the urge to get a “sneak peek”

he basically RAN down the hallway, blatantly ignoring the warnings the teachers gave down the aisle, to escape Kasamatsu and to get to you as soon as he could so he could have more time to watch

as he ran closer, his ears register the very familiar hip hop, urban, and pop songs emanating from the room

“(Y/n)-cchi!!!”

“Kise? What are you even doing here?”

“I came to watch your practice—”

“But you always do,” you sighed, crossing your arms in mild annoyance. “Besides, you’re going to see the exact choreography at the rally anyways. Don’t you already know the choreo yourself? Aren’t you a fan of these groups?”

“But I won’t be able to see you up close like thiiiiis,” Kise whines. “You’re always so cool when you dance, is it so wrong that I always want to see you dance?”

there was his signature puppy eyes that would normally make most girls weak in their knees

“I’m flattered,” you deadpanned, managing to stare down at Kise even though he was much taller than you. “But you’re cutting into our time right now, so you should either leave or sit quietly like a good boy and keep it shush.”

“Sheesh, so demanding…” he pouted, but nonetheless reluctantly sat himself on the chair like a petulant child

his petty anger quickly dissipates when your club got into position, with you at the center, and started the entire routine

even though everyone was just lipsyncing to the songs as they performed the dance covers back to back, he really thought everyone, especially you, embodied the essence of a real idol group

you had the aura, energy, passion, and charisma of an idol leader… not to mention the looks

Kise honestly saw you as his ultimate role model and idol, if he was going to be honest

to outsiders, it genuinely looked like you and Kise didn’t get along, but it couldn’t be further from the truth

okay, yes, maybe your first impressions on him weren’t that great

Kise first laid eyes on you when your recently new club performed for the first time at a talent show to promote for more members the following year, and he asked Moriyama if he knew who you were

“Right?? (Y/n)-san is cute! But don’t go near her—”

“Relax, Moriyama-senpai, I was just curious.”

and he started seeing your face popped up more around school, and your name being brought up more frequently among students (particularly his fangirls, who envy and admire you for different reasons)

you apparently started the club yourself (like Teppei with Seirin’s basketball team)

he was then intrigued and wanted to judge you for himself… and that’s when he started to show up to your room after practice to annoy you or would bump into you in the hallways

you, not wanting to deal with his shit, told him off in front of everyone

as much as Kise was shocked out of his wits, he couldn’t believe anyone had the balls to say that while risking their reputation… even Kasamatsu wasn’t THAT confrontational

he fell for you… HARD

he visits you DURING practice from that point on and while you hated it at first and tried to scare him away, he was just too stubborn

so you let him be

and you eventually learned that Kise was surprisingly dependable

he’d always insist on walking you home after practice

while you are still wary of him sometimes, you no longer find him completely unbearable… except when Kise would make it a huge deal to cheer your name OUT LOUD in the audience every time you performed, which was BEYOND embarrassing and headache-inducing

“Wow… I can’t believe you haven’t auditioned for an idol label yet, (y/n)-cchi,” Kise thought… more like he accidentally slipped out

but hypothetically, if you did pass an audition, he wouldn’t be able to get to see you as much anymore…

by now, your club was wrapping up practice and you came over to Kise to whack his head

“I told you to keep it shush, didn’t I?”

“You’re so mean! Your practice is done, isn’t it?!”

“You think I’m going to audition for a company?” you scoffed, but nonetheless mirth danced across your eyes; you knew he was trying to change the subject

“It was just a stray thought,” he mumbled, averting his eyes while pouting

“Really now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “If I really did become one, I wouldn’t have much time to be here, now wouldn’t I?”

“(Y/n)-cchi! Are you saying that you…”

“On second thought, even if I’d miss class so much, I can at least avoid you and your incessant shouting.”

“Wha—! You’re so cruel—!”

“I’m joking, Kise.”

“(Y/n)-cchiiiiiii!” he fake-cries as he tries to glomp on your figure, only for you to expertly sidestep his lunge

“You better not scream out during the pep rally.”

spoiler alert: he, indeed, kept shouting out your name at the volume of a thousand decibels like a true fanboy during lunch

Kasamatsu Yukio

“I do not like (y/n)-san in that way!”

typical Kaijo team dynamics: during practice, everyone obeys the captain side of Kasamatsu without question, but outside of basketball? everyone picks on him the most

“Sure, sure, senpai,” Kise would often say, with Moriyama giving him consoling shoulder pats

“Screw off, or I’m giving you 5 extra drill runs—”

“Look, look, he’s turning red! He’s turning red!”

needless to say, the hallways were filled with a huge ruckus of chattering and shouts over Kasamatsu’s “problem,” aka you

he never saw you in that light

or at least… he used to not see you in that way

he admired your leadership skills; you were reputed across the school as the leader of the most coordinated group of performers who would travel to other cities to perform on televised festivals, local outdoor shows, and competitions

he would often hear your spartan-like commands to other performers outside, like “you three are off beat on 1, when you should be on the and of 2!″ and “your formations are too cluttered, spread out!”

sometimes, your group borrowed the gym because it’s much more spacious to practice in, and that’s where he REALLY saw you being a leader and a performer

if the Kaijo basketball team was the cream of the crop of all sports clubs, then the Kaijo performance group was the cream of the crop for all visual and performing arts

the group performed in all styles of dance, from traditional to modern and contemporary, and the fact that you seemed to know what to do on every new stage gave him motivation to do more as a captain to not “get left behind” for a lack of better term

he respected you like how he would respect Hyuga, Kuroko, and Kagami, but he never saw you as a “girl”

which was why he was able to talk to you normally and become good mutuals so easily

it’s the way you talked about your interests so passionately, it just made it really relatable and easy to strike up conversation with you, because you and him are similar in so many ways

well… that was… until his own teammates noticed and kept pestering him about the fact that you were a “girl” and that it was strange that he talked to you normally

so now he couldn’t undo his perspective of you, and he became HYPER AWARE of everything about you

so now he was noticing your mannerisms, your habits when you were idly thinking, the way your costumes and attire clinged to your figure or the way the stage makeup accentuated your features… the little things like that just really cemented the fact that you were not just “a dude”

“Drop it already,” Kasamatsu said, glaring at his teammates, who already looked like they’re in tears of laughter

Kise, even through the teasing, wanted the best for Kasamatsu, so he insisted he should just confess

and Kasamatsu is denying to his dying breath how he doesn’t see you that way

here these two are, going back and forth until it escalated into an argument after Kise insults him for being a coward

the rest of the teammates had to pull the two of them off each other so they could both cool their heads off

and Kasamatsu is stalking off alone in the halls, fist and teeth clenching as he figures out how to destroy Kise at practice after school… until he heard a faint oriental-sounding instrumental, and he immediately knew you were near

so he runs to the source of the sound… only to see you practicing alone in an empty club room, which is odd, since you normally practice with everyone

he’s too shy to do anything other than to look at you through the door window, being completely red when he’s, yet again, aware of how your body moved

all of the sudden, you stopped and frowned at yourself and sighed

was there something wrong?

you would never make a harsh expression, unless it was for the sake of acting when you danced, since you were normally so put-together

the want to help you overcome your troubles overrides his self-consciousness of this “crush” of his

“(Y/n)-san,” Kasamatsu called out, letting himself in after announcing his presence

“Kasamatsu? What brings you here?”

“Heard something… so uh,” he paused. “I came to check it out, but it seems like you’re troubled. Is there anything I can… do to help?”

“Ah…” you started. “We have to board the bus soon for a competition during lunch. It’s going to be televised everywhere too… I just want to get some last-minute practice, so nothing goes wrong…”

“I admire you alot,” Kasamatsu said seriously. “You inspire me to keep working harder.”

“Huh?”

“But try not to overwork yourself, your members will definitely notice if their leader is off their game,” Kasamatsu said. “I would know from experience.”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?” you laughed, to which Kasamatsu doesn’t fail to notice

“W-w-well, that’s—”

“Thank you, Kasamatsu,” you smiled. “Hearing your advice makes me want to ace this and make sure our performance will take the win.”

“Y-yeah…” he said, stretching his neck and shoulders out of nervousness

“Make sure you tune into our performance live during lunch, okay?” you leaned towards him playfully with your hands behind your back. “I’d be really happy if I knew you were there supporting me.”

“Y-yeah…”

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Do you think that Hawk going violet will happen in a big emotional time? Like he's feeling like he's still a Cobra and gets confused and wants to leave Miyagi-fang (?) but something happens and he realizes that he's not a Cobra.

YESSSS this would be great!!!

Like I’m imagining Hawk feeling pretty conflicted because it’s been several weeks and STILL no one in the dojo really seems to like or trust him aside from Demetri and Miguel. Like even Mitch and Bert are wary of him, having seen firsthand how far under Kreese’s influence he ended up falling--and perhaps they’re a little jealous too, since he got to stay in Cobra Kai while they were both booted out. Johnny is glad to have Hawk back in his class, but he still can’t help but be a little angry with him for choosing Kreese over him initially--he knows HE’S the one who toughened Hawk up, not Kreese, and he can’t help but remember how readily Hawk dismissed him at first.

Maybe word gets out about Hawk trashing the Miyagi-Do dojo the previous summer--perhaps Miguel confides in Sam about it, and Sam, in a moment of hotheaded weakness, storms out into the dojo courtyard and confronts Hawk. I dunno if she would be mean enough to yell at him in front of everyone, but people almost certainly overhear regardless--and when it gets back to Daniel, ohhh boy. Hawk and Daniel were warming up to one another, and Daniel was even trying to help Hawk through some of his anger issues--but once he finds out that Hawk stole Mr. Miyagi’s medal of honor, all bets are off. (At least for now--Daniel has a way of coming around. But Hawk sure as hell doesn’t know that.)

After the whispers about what Hawk did the previous summer start spreading around the dojo, people avoid him even more. People look at him like he’s even more of a monster. Daniel doesn’t interact with him any more than is absolutely necessary. Hawk apologizes, of course--tries to channel as much emotion into it as he can so people know it’s genuine. But no one seems to believe him, and he can’t help but be confused about what else he’s supposed to do. Apologies for him have always been a one-and-done deal, and he’s not sure why everyone else isn’t accepting it like Demetri was. He doesn’t know what else to do to communicate he’s serious.

Demetri and Miguel both vouch for him, of course. Demetri especially--he’s used to getting across what Eli’s trying to communicate, attuned from years of practically being Eli’s voice. Demetri never wants to leave Hawk’s side, standing centimeters apart from him at karate practice and swinging a protective arm around him to squeeze his shoulder whenever people shoot Hawk suspicious looks. Despite his friends’ efforts, Hawk is miserable--he feels like he’s under the worst kind of microscope, and no matter what he does, no one is going to trust him.

He feels guilty about it, but he finds himself longing for his Cobra Kai days. How he was respected, feared, celebrated for his strength and his fighting skills and his ruthlessness. Now, it feels like everyone flinches at them--even Miguel and Demetri, on occasion. He just isn’t admired--just isn’t appreciated--like he used to be, no matter how much Demetri tries to reassure him. “I know they’ll trust you eventually. It’ll just take time!”

Hawk isn’t sure they’re ever going to trust him.

Sometimes he wonders if he should go back to Cobra Kai, regain the fame and the prowess and the fear of everyone who dared to cross him. He’d take Miguel and Demetri, of course--he can’t bear to be pitted against either of them ever again. But a bit of intensive training on the side for both of them, and he’s sure they could make it in Kreese’s Cobra Kai. They’re both incredibly skilled fighters, and the thought of the three of them becoming the three most intimidating fighters in the Valley is oddly cathartic to Hawk. The three most pathetic losers in the school, risen to great heights to be terrifying warriors who people were scared to so much as breathe wrong around. Demetri will come, Hawk is sure--Demetri would follow him anywhere, as long as he gets Hawk’s word that Hawk will never turn on him again. And Miguel...well, it might take some convincing to get him to leave the LaRusso girl, but if Demetri comes, Miguel will surely want to be with his two best friends more than his annoying girlfriend.

Hawk is walking home one day from karate training (a training that Demetri never showed up to--a bit odd, but Hawk figures he must have just called out because he had a lot of AP homework), thinking about how best to try and loop Miguel and Demetri into extra training, when his phone rings. He picks up, and it’s Miguel--panicked, hyperventilating, voice cracking like he’s been crying, rushing words out through raspy breaths. He’s hard to understand, talking fast with his voice choked with sobs, but Hawk makes out something about “Demetri” and “an ambush near the park.”

Hawk is at the location in minutes, sprinting there at top speed despite running never being his forte (Demetri was always the faster one between them). Demetri is lying motionless on the cement, passed out with his flannel slowly soaking through with blood. Hawk runs to him in a hysteria, screaming and crying and begging for him to be okay.

While Miguel calls an ambulance, Hawk is frantically looking over Demetri, trying to figure out where all that blood is coming from. No amount of punches and kicks could draw out that amount of blood. Then he lifts up Demetri’s shirt, and lets out a strangled whimper.

The Cobras are fighting with knives now, apparently. And someone--probably Kyler--carved “COBRA KAI NEVER DIES” across Demetri’s back.

And Hawk can’t stop crying because he knows this is his fault. There’s only one reason the Cobras would target Demetri--he was the reason for their latest deserter, and they knew that.

Or maybe he had simply been someone from a rival dojo in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe the Cobras were just those kinds of people.

Because it was never strength and power that Kreese cared about--it was war. Using dojo rivalries as an excuse to get away with hurting people because he enjoyed it. Because them being on the “opposite side” made it seem justified, somewhere in his twisted mind.

The doctors have to practically drag Eli out of Demetri’s hospital room. Luckily they’re able to at least reassure Eli that Demetri is going to be okay--it’s the only way to get him to leave. There are more knife wounds that he didn’t see at first, but they didn’t hit anything vital--thank god. Demetri’s lost a fair bit of blood, but he’ll be all right.

The text scrawled across his back most likely won’t scar, if Demetri cares for the wound properly. And that’s enough for Eli--he knows how meticulous Demetri is. He’ll get through it.

Still, the red stains on Demetri’s shirt and the dark cuts slicing through his skin are seared in Eli’s mind as he drives home. When he gets in the shower that night, he thinks of the words carved into Demetri’s back and his lips curl up in a snarl. He grabs a bottle of bleach, emptying the entire contents onto his limp scarlet hair.

Hawk bleaches and bleaches until the shower is a mess and the entire bathroom smells of cleaning products and every trace of the distinctive Cobra Kai red is completely annihilated. Cobra Kai never dies? Bullshit--they’re dead to him.

His eyes trail to a bottle of hair dye on the top shelf of the shower rack, and he grins. He’s been toying with the idea for a while now, but now...he’s never been more certain in his life. With the red gone, and Cobra Kai truly behind him...it’s time.

When Demetri wakes up in the hospital the next day. The first thing he sees is a jagged purple shape clouding his vision--hair, he realizes. “Who are you?” he mumbles.

“Come on, Deme, how many people do you know with a goddamn mohawk?” a familiar voice says.

His eyes focus to find Eli smirking at him, hair up in deep violet spikes. His hand feels warm, and he looks down to see Eli’s holding it.

Demetri hopes his blush isn’t too visible.

“Holy shit, dude.” Demetri can’t help but grin. “You look great. Why the change?”

“After seeing what they did to you, I couldn’t...do a Cobra Kai color anymore.” Eli bites his lip. “And it just reminded me of all the awful stuff I did there, too. But uh...you know how Sensei LaRusso is always talking about balance?” Demetri just nods.

“I guess I thought I needed something like that. Like I want to be cool and intimidating and kick ass, like Sensei Lawrence and Miguel. But I also want to be all...I dunno...rational and wise and moral and shit, like you and Sensei LaRusso. And Eagle Fang’s got the red thing, and Miyagi-Do’s got the blue thing, so I was like...maybe I should mix them? For balance?”

“Ohhhhh!” And here comes Demetri’s shit-eating grin. Hawk isn’t sure why he expected any different. “You think I’m ‘rational and wise and moral and shit,’ Eli? I thought you thought I was a ‘lame nerd!’”

Eli just rolls his eyes. “God, shut up. You can be both.”

“Also, are you going to stop holding my hand?”

“No.”

Demetri just snickers and leans back, enjoying the sensation of Eli’s fingers between his.

“I was thinking about leaving, you know,” Eli admits quietly, after a beat.

Demetri sits up, staring at him in shock. “What?”

“I didn’t feel like I belonged,” he explained. “I didn’t feel like anyone wanted me there, after everything I’d done. No one but you believed me when I said sorry. I thought maybe I’d be happy if I went back to Cobra Kai, took you and Miguel with me so I wouldn’t have to fight you and we could all become strong together without...without everyone looking at me like I was evil. But now? I never want anything to do with those assholes ever again. Not after they hurt you like that.”

Demetri looks at Eli so softly that Eli thinks he might melt. Then Demetri breaks out in another huge smirk. “Awww, you were going to try and bring me back to your evil karate cult with you? How thoughtful of you!”

“Oh my god, shut up. Yes, I think you would’ve been good enough to survive in there. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Also, are you still holding my hand?”

“Maybe I am. Mind your business.”

When Demetri takes said hand and uses it to yank Eli forward and kiss him full on the mouth, Eli isn’t about to complain. 

When they pull apart, Demetri is a spluttering mess, quickly apologizing and insisting he wasn’t thinking. Eli just laughs, and pulls him forward by the neck so their foreheads are pressed together. “God, I’ve wanted that for so long, Demetri. Don’t you dare apologize for it.”

A short pause. “I know it’s been hard for you,” Demetri adds quietly. “At the dojo. But you have to believe me when I say they’ll come around. I know you’re a good person, Miguel knows, and everyone else will realize it too. It’s just going to take some time. But you’ll figure out how to make it up to them. I believe in you.”

“Okay.” Hawk closes his eyes and exhales slowly, letting himself relax. “As long as I’m with you, it’ll be fine.”

[nobodyfamousposts]

Miraculous Spite: Double Monkey Dare

It was all Kim’s fault.

After the Chameleon battle, Marinette had been fully willing and able to finally out Lila for the rotten liar she was. But Adrien stepped in and stopped her. Despite knowing the truth, he saw fit to protect Lila and encouraged Marinette to take the high road in some sad hope that Lila may at some point decide to become a better person on her own.

Marinette truly doubted it, but she’d let the boy dream.

Still, it had been the end of the school day. Things had…sort of worked out. The seats were changed back, at least, and she got to sit next to Alya and behind Adrien again. Alya had even reassured her that she wouldn’t let her sit alone, so it seemed she was still in her corner.

But after school let out and Lila’s declaration of “war”, Marinette was uncertain. Given the lengths Lila had gone to previously to get to Adrien specifically—stealing his book, buying the necklace, claiming to be the Fox hero...it showed the girl could be crafty and that she was fully willing to go to extremes to get her way. And that was all out of the desire for Adrien to LIKE her.

What would she do to someone she wanted to get rid of?

Marinette had brushed off Lila’s threat at the time, but truthfully, she was worried. And given how quickly everyone had jumped on her over something as simple as not wanting to be moved from her seat when she really didn’t need to be, it seemed she had just cause to be worried.

What would Lila do? How far would she go? How much would it take for Lila to successfully turn everyone against her?

Marinette wanted to believe the best in her classmates, but none of them—not a single one of them had even really listened to her.

Though…maybe it had to do with her method?

But how could she convince them of the truth? Or at least get them to doubt Lila? Even if it’s a little, just as long as it’s enough to not automatically believe her if she tried to spin some false story about Marinette?

She puzzled over this. Uncertain. Worried. And feeling guilty because she knew she should trust her friends more than that…

Even if they hadn’t trusted her.

It was in this state that Kim happened upon her.

Kim, for his boisterousness, was more insightful than people gave him credit for. The incident at the zoo notwithstanding. Or the incident with Chloe. Or the other incident with Odine.

…shut up.

Regardless, Kim saw Marinette standing in front of the school and looking rather put out. Which naturally gave him concern.

“Hey, Marinette! You okay?”

She jumped at the call and turned to face him. “Yeah! I’m…I’m fine!”

Yeah, he didn’t need to be Max’s level of genius to see that was a lie.

Kim rubbed the back of his head, sheepishly. “Look, I wanted to apologize.”

She blinked up at him in surprise.

“I know things got a little rough today with Lila’s return and all.” He explained. “It wasn’t cool how you were the only one who didn’t really get to pick where you got to sit. And looking back, we kind of pressured you into it.”

He placed both hands on her shoulders.

“I want you to know that I’ll listen if you need anything.”

She smiled at that and he couldn’t help the grin in response.

“Thanks, Kim. That means a lot to hear.”

“No sweat!” He assured her. “Lila is cool and all, but you’re the best thing that’s happened to the class. No matter what she says, you’re still amazing and you need to remember that.”

She gave a huff, seeming both touched while also frustrated. “I just don’t know what to do. I know she’s lying. I can even prove it. But it’s like everyone automatically believes her no matter what she says.”

He didn’t know about that. And while he wasn’t sure that Lila was being dishonest, it was clear that Marinette believed she was. And he couldn’t bring himself to assume it was simply about Adrien.

Kim may not be the brightest banana, but he sure as heck noticed the wary look the blond was sending the Italian girl whenever she got too close.

“I don’t know if she’s telling the truth or not.” Kim admitted. “But if she is, you of all people would be able to prove it.”

She frowned, uncertain.

He grinned. “Cheer up! If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re always able to rise to the challenge, whatever it may be.”

It was that word.

That one word that sparked an idea.

And an idea that would change everything.

_________________________

The next day, Marinette approached Alya and Nino yet again in an attempt to convince them of Lila’s lies.

Only this time, she had a plan.

“Look, we already fixed everything from yesterday. There’s no need to be upset with her anymore.” Alya insisted.

“Yeah, can’t we just be friends?” Nino beseeched.

Not while Lila was waiting in the wings to do who knows what.

“I’m telling you, she’s a liar!”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Girl, really! Just let it go.”

“No!” Marinette shouted, surprising everyone but herself most of all.

However…

She couldn’t back down now.

Her eyes narrowed and she stared down the other two with sheer determination.

“If you really think Lila is telling the truth…if you are really going to believe her over me…” She took a breath.

“Prove it!”

Both Alya and Nino’s eyes widened.

“What?!”

Marinette glanced back and forth between the two, her gaze steely. “You said you believe in her. That you absolutely trust her, right?”

Alya frowned, but nodded. “Of course!”

Nino seemed uncertain, but nodded in agreement with his girlfriend.

“Then prove it.” She repeated. 

If there was one weakness that all of the students in Bustier’s class shared, it was an inability to refuse a direct challenge. It was the reason why Kim’s dares had gone on so long and gotten so out of hand to the point it took a direct challenge from Alix to dare him to stop just to get a reprieve.

They were unable to resist accepting any sort of dare or bet. Especially if they were sure they would win.

Though how true that surety actually was might be up for question…

“How much would you say you trust her?” Marinette asked them.

Alya balked, though remained steadfast. “I put her on my blog, so of course I trust her. I’d stake my blog’s reputation on it.”

Nino laughed, albeit a bit nervously as he wondered just what Marinette was getting at. “I’d bet my hat on her.”

The girl in question placed both hands on the desk, shifting her weight and leaning forward towards the couple. “Then I’ll make a bet with you.”

Nino balked. “Hold on! I thought dares were Kim’s thing?” And that they weren’t going to happen anymore since he lost that race with Alix…

That didn’t seem to deter her though.

“Well, if you’re certain that Lila is telling the truth, then it shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” Marinette asked with a smile.

It was the sort of smile smart people knew to back away from.

Alya and Nino were smart, but they were also teenagers and prone to disregarding sense.

“So what’s the bet then?” Alya asked. “It’s clearly about Lila, right?”

Marinette nodded. “And to prove once and for all whether she’s telling the truth or not.”

“We’re in.” Alya stated.

Nino gaped at his girlfriend. “What?!”

She shrugged at him. “If it’ll get Marinette to get over her hangups and let us all hang out together, then I’ll do it.” She turned back to her friend. “What’s the dare?”

“Simple enough.” Marinette replied. “We’ll each have the rest of today to collect evidence. Then when we meet up again tomorrow, we’ll present what we find. You bring anything you can find that backs any of Lila’s claims while I’ll be bringing anything on my end that disproves them. We’ll each present the evidence to see wether Lila is telling the truth or not. If more evidence comes out in her favor, then we’ll all accept she’s telling the truth. And if more evidence comes out against her, we’ll all accept she’s lying.” She smiled politely. “Does that sound fair?”

“Sure.” Alya agreed with a grin. “And when I win, you’ll apologize to Lila for accusing her.”

“Now hang on…” Nino started, only to be cut off.

“If I lose,” Marinette agreed. “I’ll apologize to Lila for calling her a liar and even bring a cake for the entire class as an apology.”

She raised a finger. “In fact, I’ll sweeten the deal. Alya, if it turns out I’m wrong, I’ll make you a dress free of charge. And Nino, I’ll bring you free pastries every day for a month. Because that’s how sure I am that Lila is a liar.”

Nino perked up at that. “Well, if you’re offering…”

Alya smirked. “If it turns out you’re right, I’ll remove Lila’s video from my blog.”

Marinette looked unimpressed. “But you would do that anyway if you knew it was false.”

Alya growled and slammed her hand on the table. “Fine! Then just to prove how much I believe Lila, I’ll replace it with another video of me doing something silly. Your choice of what.”

That made Marinette’s eyes widen. She hadn’t planned it to go that far. “Um…you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

She winced. “You…really may want to pick something else.”

The other girl shook her head in clear refusal. “That’s just to show my faith. And besides, don’t you want some payback for those instagram pics?”

Well, not that Marinette was going to say anything or let it influence her bet, but…

“If you’re sure. But I’ll let you just get me a roll of fabric of my choice as a second option.”

“I won’t need it!”

Both girls then turned to Nino, expectantly. The boy took a breath. “Okay. Um…well, if I’m wrong about Lila, then you can have my hat.”

Marinette frowned at that.

“Are you sure you want to do that? That’s kind of permanent.”

“Nah, I trust Lila. And I know the two of you would be great friends if you gave her a chance. Just like me and Adrien.”

It was clear that Marinette was trying very, very hard not to make a face.

“But tell you what, I trust her enough that you can take my hat and design me something else to wear however you want. I’ll wear it for a month. How’s that?”

Marinette gaped. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

Nino shrugged. “If I’m standing where I am, I’m going to stand fully. Besides, you won’t make me wear anything too crazy, right?”

Silence.

Nino started to sweat.

“Right?”

“Deal then!” Marinette chirped. “We’ll meet up tomorrow to see what we’ve found. Good luck!” And with that, she practically skipped out of the room.

“Hey wait! Mari, come on!”

_________________________

The next day, several strange things happened.

Nino arrived to school looking nervous.

Alya arrived looking smug.

Marinette arrived to school with a briefcase full of papers that had Nino looking much more nervous and Alya looking decidedly less smug.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to buy me a new roll of fabric?”

“No. Just leave me with my dignity.”

“Nino, you okay?”

“Just…just let me have two more minutes…”

Nobody knew what was going on between the three. Except for Kim. He was apparently the judge of their little contest and clearly thought the whole thing was hilarious.

When he wasn’t laughing outright, he was making cryptic and slightly disturbing comments about Marinette being his “apprentice”. No one else understood what he was talking about, and they weren’t sure they wanted to.

At the end of the day, Marinette left the school in a downright chipper mood and with Nino’s hat in hand.

Three days later, Nino was wearing a new hat entirely covered in hot pink sequins and glitter while a video of Alya performing “I’m a Little Teapot” was trending online.

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 5: Ironic

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"Woah."

"I know, right," Peter said, unzipping the inside of the suit and moving to plug it into Ned's computer. His friend continued to gape at it, fingers trailing over the fabric reverently.

"I can't believe Iron Man made this," he whispered. "I get to sit here. And touch a superhero suit. That Tony Stark made. For my best friend. This is the greatest day of my life."

"You've said that a lot recently," Peter pointed out, pulling up the schematics of the suit on Ned's computer, who turned to look at him in confusion.

"What are you doing? Are you supposed to be messing with it?"

"I'm not messing with it. I'm just going through Karen's code real quickly."

"Karen?"

"The AI," he explained. "I just want to make sure she's not gonna snitch on me."

"Snitch on you for what?"

"Uhhh, so you know those alien weapons I've been talking about?"

Ned nodded. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna take that down, and I don't really need Karen telling Mr. Stark," he mumbled the last part nervously. Ned stared at him.

"Why don't we want Karen telling Mr. Stark again? I mean, he gave you the suit, he must think you're capable."

Peter paused, puffing up his cheeks as he took in an awkward breath, staring at the protocols showing up on the computer. He'd already spotted three to tell Mr. Stark if he was in trouble, so he knew it was the opposite of Ned's assumption.

"Actuallyyyy..." He took a deep breath. "You can't tell anyone this." Ned nodded, but he continued to press. "I mean it. Nobody. Not a soul."

"I won't, I won't! I promise, Peter. Not. A. Soul."

"Mr. Stark's my soulmate."

Ned's head whipped around to stare at Peter's shadow, his mouth falling open.

"Oh, my God... Oh, my God! He's your soulmate!!?" Peter nodded, preparing himself for Ned's excited ramblings, but he couldn't really hide the smile on tugging at his lips either, however faint it was. "This is insane! Your life is so fucking insane I think I'm going to lose it!! Have you talked to him? Wait--yeah you have! How many times have you talked to him? Have you done, I don't know, 'soulmate things?'"

"Ned, what?"

Ned threw his hands up. "I don't know, I haven't met my soulmate. I'm trying my best, Peter!"

Peter laughed, shrugging.

"I don't really know what 'soulmate things' are, but we had dinner, and he showed me some stuff in his lab."

"Oh, my God...you've been in his lab. You know you have to show me one day."

"Definitely. I'll figure it out later, just, let us get more used to each other? Maybe? Let me impress him at least, which is why I'm trying to keep Karen from snitching on me."

"Sure. Here," Ned agreed, sitting beside him on the bed and gesturing for the computer. Peter passed it over to him wordlessly. "I'll work on the protocols, you do detective work or something."

"Thanks, dude."

"By the way, and answer honestly, is that Tony Stark's hoodie?"

Peter glanced down at the red hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him, 'MIT' emblazoned on the sleeves while the faded logo sat on the front of the piece of clothing. He smiled at Ned. "Yep."

"This is so cool," his friend melted.

With an amused eyeroll, Peter pulled out his phone, clearing his throat and nervously calling, "Karen?"

The phone lit up. "Yes, Peter?"

"Listen, ah, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to figure out who these guys under the bridge were a few nights ago, but I mean, I can only kind of remember part of a license plate."

"Can you tell me where you were?" Peter rattled off Liz's neighborhood. Karen was silent for a little bit before piping up again. "Was there a white van involved?"

Peter perked up. "Yes! Exactly!"

A hologram popped up from Peter's phone. Ned stopped to stare at it as they both let out an identical, "Whoa..."

Peter watched intently from the security camera as the van rolled up under the bridge to where the buyer had been waiting. Karen highlighted the faces for him.

"Okay. The two on the right, who are they?" he asked.

"Searching law enforcement databases," Karen said, pausing before answering. "No records found for two of the individuals."

"Nothing?"

"One individual identified." The recording was replaced by a mugshot. "Aaron Davis, age thirty-three. He has a criminal record and an address here in Queens."

Peter and Ned glanced at each other. Ned said, "The protocols are disabled."

"Let's pay him a visit."

  ---

"So, what's this surprise you've been talking about?"

Tony's head shot up at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. He smiled, turning from where he'd been forcing some kitchen tools into a box to take in the woman as she stepped off of the elevator. She very much looked like she'd just come out of a meeting in sharp business slacks and an exhausted expression.

"Hey, Pep. How was...London?"

"Tokyo," she corrected, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It was tiring. How's the packing?"

"Eh, boring," he said, kicking the box lightly and shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, anyway, I think that we should reconsider moving to the compound permanently."

"Tony, we just finished all the paperwork for the tower! And most floors have been packed by now, we can't just--"

"Not the tower. Just for us. Ever thought about a nice high-rise in Queens?"

Pepper stared at him, crossing her arms. "Queens? Since when have you ever cared about Queens?"

"Well, that's the surprise."

"The surprise is that you want to move to Queens?"

"No," Tony corrected, unable to stop his bright grin. "The surprise is that my soulmate lives in Queens."

It took a couple of seconds for that to register to Pepper. When it did, her eyebrows raised and she let out a smiled gasp. "You found him?"

Tony nodded. "Yep, just swinging around New York like a maniac."

"Swinging?"

"He's Spider-Man. Well, 'man's' a strong word. Here." He waved his hand, pulling up a screen that displayed Peter's yearbook photo. Pepper cooed at him. "Peter Parker. Top of his class at Midtown High by day, overly excited vigilante by night."

"He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly, never mind stop robberies. How'd he get his powers?"

"Forgot to ask, actually. He wasn't super excited to meet me at first, actually."

Pepper snorted. "Good. I'm glad he doesn't feed your ego."

"Hey! This is serious," he pouted.

"Uhuh." Pepper gave him another kiss on the cheek. "How'd you meet him?"

"Mugging. I bought him a hot chocolate."

"Hmm. I expected something stranger given your track record."

"He ran away."

"There it is," she said. "It's all good now, though?"

"Yeah..."

"Tony?"

He hesitated. "Peter lives at a group home, and I gotta say, not super fond of his foster father."

"Is he... Does he hurt Peter?" Pepper asked. He shrugged.

"Possibly. I gave Peter some money and the guy took it. Spent hundreds of dollars on liquor. And the kid's really thin. Jumpy, too. But there's nothing to prove right now."

"I'm surprised I didn't have our lawyer calling me to say you broke into a foster home and kidnapped a kid."

Tony shrugged, giving her a soft smile. "I don't need to break down the door to say hi to Peter. Besides, kid's wary, gets nervous easily. I don't want to scare him off by being too invasive about his home."

"Good on you for learning some boundaries, Tony," she congratulated before turning just a little more serious as she glanced at Peter's picture again. "You're sure he's alright?"

"No. But he's got a new superhero suit, a phone with me, Friday, and his own AI on speed dial, an unlimited credit card, and a badge to get into the tower. He's got resources if he needs them."

"Then let's just hope he doesn't need them."

 ---

  Peter waited until the next day to find and interrogate Aaron Davis, more at Ned's insistence that they study for their Spanish quiz and to let his friend geek out over the suit than anything else. He'd stayed at his friend's house for as long as humanly possible, readily accepting whatever snack that Ned had pushed his way and going over notes that Karen gave him about Davis. It wasn't until the alarm he'd had Karen set that it was 9:40 went off did he leave.

Peter didn't like to impose on his friend so much, but Ned hadn't seemed to mind with the new addition of a supersuit and Mr. Stark being his soulmate, and the teenager couldn't help the way he was still avoiding Mr. Fowler like the plague. After leaving Mr. Stark's on Sunday and failing to stop a simple burglary, he'd hurried back to the group home, helping Eric with his homework and then cooping himself up in his room. He'd managed to avoid him the entire night and the next morning due to the man being passed out drunk in his room. Though he was still wracked with guilt at the fact that his foster father had stolen Mr. Stark's money on alcohol, he had to admit that it was at least useful.

Bidding goodnight to his friend, Peter slipped out of the apartment and hurried down onto the street where he joined the late night crowd as he made his way back to the group home. He popped his earbuds in and chose a song on his phone (that had an unlimited choice for him now, but he just stuck with his familiar Spotify playlists) as he rushed back to a place that he wished he could avoid for longer. Unfortunately, the curfew was final, so he made it back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys with five minutes to spare.

He stopped in front of the door as his hairs rose. Surprisingly, they didn't direct him towards the house, instead calling him to turn around. Peter glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a man sitting at an apartment's steps a few buildings down. It was too dark to see his face, especially with the hat he wore pulled down low, but he looked just a little familiar. More than a little nervous, the teenager shook it off and stepped inside.

Mr. Fowler was waiting for him at the dining table. Peter paused, taking out his earbuds as Mr. Fowler turned to stare at him, chewing on a slice of pizza. For some reason, despite living in New York, the man was obsessed with frozen pizza. It was practically criminal, but Peter excused it as mind games since all the kids weren't allowed to eat any of it. Only a sociopath would eat exclusively frozen pizza in Queens.

"Pity. I was hoping you'd be late," Mr. Fowler frowned at Peter as he shuffled to a hesitant stop by the stairs. "Got another card for me?"

"No," Peter lied stiffly.

"What? No sugar daddy today?"

He knew better than to argue. "I hung out with Ned."

Mr. Fowler stared at him, but the travel agent was nothing if not a man of his word. Peter had been on time, so he waved the teenager on. Resisting the urge to scramble into the safety of his room, he whisked up the steep stairs and into the dark bedroom only lit by the lamp in the corner.

Tim was already asleep, but Jeremiah was sat on his bed going over what looked like a book report. The teenager paid Peter no mind as he dropped his bag onto the ground beside his bed and changed into a pajama shirt. He kept the hoodie on that Mr. Stark had given despite the warmth of the night as he slipped under his covers, bundling up in the reassuring fabric.

Peter didn't fall asleep for a while, grateful for the light provided by the lamp as he stared at the outline of Mr. Stark's shadow as though it were the only thing in the world. It might as well be for all he cared. Blocking out Mr. Fowler was quickly becoming a new necessity that was increasingly hard to do with the way his senses focused in on every little thing.

The entire house smelled of the man's alcohol, musty and strong and littered with the memories of a dark closet where even his shadow hadn't been able to comfort him. But the hoodie carried the fading scent of Mr. Stark that washed away his tired uneasiness, at least for the time being, and the shadow kept him preoccupied with one comforting thought. Out there, just across a bridge, was an adult who cared.

 ---

  When Peter woke up, he felt off. He wasn't quite sure how to explain it, just that he knew the day was going to go wrong before it started. He wanted to curl up deeper into the hoodie that wrapped around him like a cocoon, but forced himself to push the covers off of himself and plant hit feet on the cold morning floor.

Jeremiah's bed was already empty, so Peter assumed that he'd already eaten and left with Eric, whose school started much earlier than everyone else's. Tim was still asleep, so Peter put on a pair of pants, grabbed his bag, and woke the kid up before knocking on the door of the other kids' room. He then headed downstairs and began putting together bowls of cereal for the kids that would be stumbling downstairs in a few minutes.

Mr. Fowler was in the kitchen, leaving the teenager to shuffle around him awkwardly as the man gave him a suspicious glare that he tried desperately to ignore. He left the kitchen as quickly as possible, placing the bowls down in the kids' usual spots and then taking up his own place to quickly scarf down a bowl of tasteless cereal. By the time he was finished, all the other kids had already stumbled downstairs and begun to eat.

Peter went along preparing their bags and then taking their bowls to the sink once they were done. He had just put the last dish in the dishwasher when the other boys at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys walked out the door, leaving him alone with Mr. Fowler. The man was staring at him with the same suspicious glare as he closed the pantry and then made to grab his backpack.

"Wait just a moment, Peter," Mr. Fowler said. Peter paused immediately, holding back a shiver at the danger in his tone.

"Sir?"

"There was a pack of granola bars missing from the pantry last night." The man glared at him, clearly waiting for a reaction, but Peter just stared at him, hesitant. Which kid had taken the bars? He hadn't seen anything off in their bags, unless Mr. Fowler had just miscounted, though that didn't happen often. "Anything to say to that, Peter?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I didn't take them."

"You didn't? I find that very hard to believe. How close are you to ending your grounding?"

"Three days, Mr. Fowler."

He tutted, standing up from his chair and stepping over to Peter. The teenager couldn't stop the way he froze, tensing up and squaring his shoulders as a large, meaty hand clamped down on one. Fingers curled over the thick fabric of his hoodie, pricking at his skin.

"Well, it would be a pity if it was extended longer. You're sure you didn't take anything?"

"Nothing, sir." The hand flashed to his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling his head down and to the side with a pained grunt. Peter forced his breaths to steady even as tears pricked at his eyes. "I didn't take anything, Mr. Fowler, I promise!"

"Then you've wasted my time, son. Do you know what makes up for lost time?"

"Wha-what? Sir."

"A bit of hard cash." Peter noticed the way the man's hand trembled. "That card was nice for the weekend, but I'm afraid I'm running a little low. Got anything else for me?"

His thoughts flashed to the newly activated card sitting in his wallet, tucked safely in his hoodie pocket. He could just give it up and walk away. Mr. Fowler would be happy and Peter could go to school, safe and sound.

Steely eyes met Mr. Fowler's impossibly strained ones. "No. I don't have any other money."

The fist let go of his hair, throwing him back. Peter caught himself in a stumble as Mr. Fowler looked at him in disgust.

"Fine," the man rasped. "Extend your grounding until next week, then. Now get to school before I'm forced to call you in an excuse."

Peter mumbled out a grated, "Yes, sir," before stumbling out the door. Instead of making his way to school, he stumbled into the nearest alleyway. The teenager sucked in a deep breath, cursing himself for the tears biting at his eyes and the panic choking his throat. He was fine. Nothing had happened. He was completely fine. It wasn't like the extension of his grounding even mattered, Peter had money to buy food when he needed it. Everything. Was. Fine.

But Peter wasn't fine. He was choking on air and stumbling on panic as he slid down a grimy alleyway wall, unable to even begin to calm down. He didn't know why he was even freaking out so bad, Mr. Fowler had only pulled his hair, but the revival of the strong smell of liquor and the closeness of the man's face to his was horribly haunting.

Peter pulled at his hair as he finally managed to wheeze in a breath, staring desperately at the shadow in front of him. Mr. Stark's fluffy hair and tall shoulders seemed to stare back at him, almost reassuring. The teenager shoved his nose into the collar of his cardinal hoodie, taking in a deep breath to drown out Mr. Fowler.

It calmed him slightly.

But not quite enough.

With chattering teeth, Peter pulled his bag off of his shoulder and tore the suit out of it. With no hesitation, he took off his clothes and stepped into the suit. Karen greeted him instantly.

"Good morning, Peter. Shouldn't you be heading to school?"

"Uh, no, no. Not today, Karen. That man, Aaron Davis? Where is he right now?"

A path was highlighted on his screen.

 ---

  "Remember me?"

Peter's voice was almost hilariously unnatural, but the man at the car stumbled back, so he guessed it worked. He thundered forward to where Aaron Davis was trying to stumble away from his car but was pulled back by the web sticking to the open hood.

"Uh, hey..."

"I need information. You're gonna give it to me now," Peter demanded half-heartedly, the enhanced interrogation mode making his voice much angrier. Maybe it was better than he thought.

"All right, chill," Davis placated.

"Come on!"

Davis paused, staring at him in confusion. Peter tried not to shuffle on his feet. "What happened to your voice?"

Crap.

"What do you mean, what happened to my voice?"

"I heard you by the bridge. I know what a girl sound like," Davis deadpanned.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a boy," Peter protested, quickly moving to correct himself. "I mean, I'm a--I'm a man."

"I don't care what you are, a boy, a girl..." the man trailed off with a shrug, continuing to load his car with groceries.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a man," he protested again. "Come on, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know. Give me names--or else."

Davis slammed the trunk shut and Peter flinched back on instinct. The man flashed him a teasing smile, shaking his head.

"You ain't ever done this before, huh?"

"Deactivate interrogation mode," Peter said sullenly. Davis huffed in amusement, shaking his head again. "Look, man, these guys are selling weapons that are crazy dangerous. They can't just be out on the streets. Look, if one of them can just cut Delmar's bodega in half..."

Davis, not paying attention in the slightest, looked up, regarding him in slight interest. "You know Delmar's?"

"Yeah, best sandwich in Queens," he shrugged.

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"It's too much bread."

"I like bread."

"Come on, man, please," the teenager begged one last time. Davis stared at him, unresponsive, so with a dramatic throw of his hands, Peter began to walk away. "Stupid interrogation mode. Karen, don't ever do that again."

"The other night," Aaron started. Peter turned around to look at him. "You told that dude, "if you shoot somebody, shoot me." It's pretty ballsy. I don't want those weapons in this neighborhood. I got a nephew who live here.

Tentatively, Peter stepped back over, catching sight of the man's shadow. It was smaller, clearly a boy with a tall afro.

"Who are these guys? What can you tell me about the guy with the wings?"

"Other than he's a psychopath dressed like a demon, nothing. I don't know who he is or where he is." Peter sighed, leaning his head on the car roof. He was never going to prove to Mr. Stark he was worthy of being his soulmate when he couldn't even find the vulture guy. Aaron offered, "I do know where he's gonna be."

Peter perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, this crazy dude I used to work with, he's supposed to be doing a deal with him."

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed, beginning to step away in giddiness. "Yes. Thank--"

"Hey, hey, hey," Aaron called. Peter stopped. "I didn't tell you where. You don't have a location."

Peter flushed bright red, making his way back to the car in embarrassment. "Right, of course. Yeah, my bad. Silly. Just...Yeah. Where is it?"

"Can I give you some advice?" Peter hummed. "You got to get better at this part of the job."

"I don't understand. I'm intimidating."

He crossed his arms, but Aaron only shook his head again.

"Staten Island ferry, eleven."

"Oh, that's soon," Peter realized. He began to walk away, pointing a finger at where the man's hand was webbed. "Hey, that's gonna dissolve in two hours."

"No, no, no, no. Come fix this."

"Two hours. You deserve that."

"I got ice cream in here."

"You deserve that. You're a criminal! Bye, Mr. Criminal!!"

 ---

  Tony clapped his hands together in an attempt to dust them off as he stared around the packaged remains of his lab. Scribbled formulas and problems had been wiped clean from boards, tables folded and disassembled, and prototypes all packed into boxes ready to be loaded onto the plane in a few days time. Most of what was left in his workplace was personal items and two encased Iron Man armors.

"How we looking on time, Fri?" he asked, grabbing his mug from where he'd placed it on the counter earlier and taking a sip.

"Packing for the move to the compound is on schedule, boss," the AI responded.

"Great," he said, smacking his lips at the comforting bitterness of his coffee, "How's the search for a Queens apartment going?"

"I have several different listings placed into the Itsy Bitsy Spider folder for you to look at."

"Great. Forward them to Pepper."

"Of course, sir."

Satisfied with the prospective of flipping through apartment listings closer to Peter in the evening, he glanced down at his shadow, frowning at the lack of fluffy hair there. It was Tuesday, wasn't it? He checked his watch for the time. Barely eleven. He was pretty sure Peter should be in school by now.

"Friday, is the spider-suit active?"

"Yes, sir."

He frowned harder. "Activate the Baby Monitor Protocol, I want to see what's going on."

"That protocol has been disabled, sir."

"What?"

The AI was silent for a moment before responding, "It has been disabled, along with many others. The only way to reinstate them would be manually."

Tony glanced down at his shadow again. Surely the kid wasn't messing with the suit? And especially not the protocols to keep him safe? And he'd skipped school, too.

"Call Peter."

 ---

  Peter peered over the top of the ferry roof at the men gathering below, who practically screamed shady. He kept an eye on Dronie's recording, the small robot keeping an eye on the other two guys up on the ferry, while Karen highlighted the men below.

"Who’s the guy on the left?" he asked, his spine shivering as he looked at the man.

"Mac Gargan. Extensive criminal record, including homicide. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark?"

"What? No. I've got this, Karen."

One of the men that Peter had seen at the bridge approached Gargan. Peter could easily pick up his muttered. "White pickup truck."

Gargan nodded at one of his crones, who immediately began walking into the inside of the ferry holding the cars.

"Dronie," Peter whispered. "Scan the ship for a white pickup truck."

He watched the footage apprehensively as Dronie flew farther outside the ferry, x-raying the boat to pick out the truck inside. The robot then zipped over to it, beginning to scan the contents covered in the trunk but flying away and back to Peter as a man stepped out the front. His leg bounced nervously as the robot settled back in his chest, his heart beating erratically.

"Oh, this is too perfect," Peter said. "I got the weapons, buyers, and sellers all in one place."

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

"No, no, no. No, no, don’t answer."

Despite his protests, the screen of his suit was swept away as Mr. Stark filled his screen. Peter tried not to grimace, keeping a careful eye on the men below even as the billionaire began to speak.

"Mr. Parker. Got a sec?" Mr. Stark greeted with a tight smile.

"Uh, I’m actually at school," Peter lied, ignoring Karen's correction in his ear. "I gotta get back to class, Mr. Stark, so--"

"What class?"

"Uhh--" Shit, what did he have at eleven? "Alge--"

The ferry's horn blared excruciatingly loudly. Peter resisted the urge to grimace, trying to keep an eye on the criminals below still.

"Band. I'm at, uh, band practice."

Mr. Stark stared at him, unimpressed. "That's...odd. You told me you quit band when you started swinging around as Spider-Man."

"I gotta go. Uh, end call."

"Hey," Mr. Stark protested, but the screen clicked close, allowing Peter to clearly see the people below once more. He flicked out a wrist, snapping a web onto a pair of keys being handed over.

"I’ll take those! Yoink!" He flipped, snatching the keys and webbing them to the ceiling. "Hey, guys. The illegal-weapons-deal-ferry was at 10:30. You missed it."

He webbed away the weapons from two guys quickly and threw them into the water. With a shiver up his spine, he ducked out of the way of the approaching man wearing the shocking gauntlet. The man's weaponized arm got stuck in the net on the ferry.

While he was distracted with the gauntlet guy, the other two he'd disarmed had scrambled to their feet, egging for a get away. Peter turned lackadaisically, webbing them

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast." He threw the two to the ground. "Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard. I gotta say the other guy was way better with that thing. I’m honestly, I’m, I’m shocked."

This was going super well.

 ---

  Peter let out a short scream of pain, suspended between the two crumbling halves of the ferry. His arms burned as he gripped at the webs fruitlessly, but he refused to let go. He could hear their heartbeats, fast and afraid and exactly like his own. The teenager panted, straining harder than he ever had before only to continue to fail. The ferry wasn't coming back together, his webs hadn't done anything, and the entire ship was going to fall apart.

And yet he refused to let go, even as he felt his arms tear painfully. He cracked his eyes open, searching desperately for his shadow. It was currently lost in the waves crashing underneath as cars piled into the rushing water. There was a moment, so quick he almost missed it, where a car hood stayed still long enough just for him to make out the shadow.

Of an Iron Man armor.

There was a metal groaning and an easing on his shoulders. Peter looked away from his shadow.

"What the hell?" With the ferry putting itself together, the teenager let himself drop onto the ferry floor, arm raised in fearful apprehension as the sound of metal colliding echoed around the entire boat. "What the hell..."

Mr. Stark in the Iron Man armor rose into view at the windows. Despite the fact that he was wearing a mask, it was easy to tell he looked angry. Or, hopefully, he was reading too much into it and the suit was just mean looking.

"Hi, Spider-Man. Band practice, was it?"

Nope. He sounded mad too. Peter had to force down a shiver, ignoring the clapping people and swinging to the cargo hold as Mr. Stark flew under it, beginning to piece the ship back together. He followed anxiously on the ceiling, turmoil sitting heavy in his stomach as he followed the man.

"Uh, Mr. Stark?" he called nervously. He continued to skitter after the man as he flew up to the ferry's top, trying to catch the man's attention even as he continued to ignore the teenager. "Hey, Mr. Stark. Could I do anything? What do you want me to do?"

"I think you’ve done enough."

Peter couldn't even bear to look at his shadow.

 ---

  "So that’s it, you’re just gonna run?" Adrian asked as Schultz approached with his overflowing duffle bag.

"Feds were waiting for us. Now we’re on Iron Man’s radar? Yeah, I’m running. You should, too."

"You know I can’t do that," Toomes said, glancing down at the shadow of his wife.

"So now what?" Schultz shrugged. Adrian rubbed at his chin.

"Mason, can you get that high-altitude seal thing up and running in time?"

"Seriously?" the engineer asked, comically giddy despite how hilariously screwed they all were. "Yes. You will not regret this."

Adrian turned back to Schultz. "You in?"

The man glanced down on the floor, contemplative. "If we get caught, we're dead. And we have days before that plane takes off. We'll be caught before then. Stark will get us, you know that."

"So we take care of Stark."

"Take care of Stark? You're crazy. How the hell are we gonna to kill Iron Man?"

Adrian thought for a moment, thoughts creeping back to the night over the lake; a defensive boy and an over-eager man and matching shadows. Peter Parker, as had been reported by one of his men following the kid. He even went to Liz's school, on her academic team and everything. He hurt a little to do this, but nothing was more important than family.

"We don't need to kill Stark," Adrian responded. "We just need to insure his compliance."

  ---

Tony finally spotted the kid sitting on the edge of the building, his legs thrown over the side, his mask torn off his face as he stared down at the water. The bulky outline of the Iron Man armor extended behind him, an imposing figure compared to the hunched and shivering kid. The sound of sirens and helicopters rang in the distance, only feeding fuel to the fire that was his anger. It had been two days since he'd given Peter the suit and he'd already hacked it, lied to him, and endangered the lives of more than a hundred people. He'd taken Tony's tech and ran with it, doing what the man had warned the teenager not to do, and almost gotten himself killed too.

It terrified him just as much as it infuriated him.

"Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch," Tony started, hovering next to Peter's spot on the building. "I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do."

"Is everyone okay?" Peter rasped.

"No thanks to you."

He clunked down on the ground, but Peter barely even looked at him, just grasping the mask in his fingers tighter. After a tense moment, the kid turned to glare at him, a sour look on his face.

"What do you care?"

The question almost shocked Tony from his anger, but the fury managed to cling on as the suit opened, allowing for him to step out. There was a defensive flicker on Peter's face, washed away as quickly as it came, at the stiff anger glued to his figure.

"What do I care?" he echoed incredulously. "Who the hell gave you the suit that you're wearing right now? The one that you used to go fight people you weren't ready to fight. Peter, you're not prepared for this--"

"I didn't see you doing anything."

"Who do you think called the FBI, huh?" Tony demanded.

"And they got their asses kicked immediately!"

"And you did what exactly?"

Peter swallowed. A soft, angry mumble shivered from his chest. "I just wanted to be like you."

Tony glowered. "And I wanted you to be better."

Peter didn't have an answer to that, turning away with a sharp flinch to stare down at the water again where the ferry was finally beginning to dock. His face was scrunched up in cold anger. Tony stared at him, waiting, but the teenager didn't do anything. Didn't say anything. With an indignant sniff, Tony glanced between the approaching boat of people and the kid sitting stiffly in front of him.

"Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back."

That caught Peter's attention. His head whipped around and he finally swiveled off of the building's edge, standing to face him. The defensiveness was back in full force now, broken only by a shiver of fear in the tremble on his face.

The teenager swallowed. "For how long?"

"Forever." Peter gaped at him, shaking his head. Tony hit him with a withering expression. "Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it works."

"No, no, no... Please, please, please..." the kid rushed, his voice pitching higher.

"Let’s have it."

"You don’t understand. Please. This is all I have. I’m nothing without this suit."

"If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it." Tony stopped in his demand, pausing to stare into the distance under the guise of letting Peter absorb his words but really choking down his own panic and regret. This was how he was treating his soulmate. He hadn't known this kid for a week and he'd had maybe two successful conversations with him. And now he was yelling and bringing down and punishing. "God, I sound like my dad."

Peter stared at him, swallowing. "Mr. Stark, please I don't want you to g--"

"The suit. Peter."

He could barely even look at the kid's completely dejected expression.

  ---

Peter meandered down the street, his head down as he forced himself to bite down on tears. It wasn't that hard, he'd had a lot of practice recently after all, but he couldn't deny that it hurt. Well, he could, but not to himself.

With the loss of the suit, Peter's bag was considerably lighter. Empty. It was disturbingly similar to how he felt in the moment, like a stumbling shell of a person.

He'd fucked up. He knew he had. But he didn't think he'd fucked up enough to lose his soulmate. He'd just--he'd just wanted to try and impress Mr. Stark, to show the man that he was worthy of being the shadow that had followed the superhero--his hero--around for fifteen years. He huffed to himself quietly at the horrible irony of it all.

After Mr. Stark had demanded to the suit, well, Peter had given it to him. He hadn't had much other choice. The man had allowed for him to go grab the bag he'd webbed to an alleyway earlier and change into his clothes. Choking down panicked tears, the teenager had folded up the barely used suit, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped the card, the phone, and the badge given to him into the mask. He wanted to have given him the red hoodie too, but it was the only top he'd had, so he'd reluctantly kept it. He'd given the stuff that was no longer his to the still seething Avenger and had left. Mr. Stark hadn't ask where he was going, so he hadn't told him.

Not that Peter was amazingly sure he knew himself. He didn't want to go back to where Mr. Fowler was surely working from home. Peter was supposed to be at school, the man would be furious that he hadn't gone, and he didn't have the courage to face him right now. The ghosted feeling of a hand tugging at his hair and painful nails in his shoulder was enough to keep him wandering the streets of Queens for as long as he possibly could.

There wasn't a destination, there was barely even a journey, there was just the tired wanderings of a teenager trying desperately not to break down crying. Part of him wished he'd kept the phone, just so he could text Ned, or even lose himself mindlessly on social media for an hour or two, but Mr. Stark's words rang clearly in his head.

"Forever."

Peter shook himself vigorously, taking a wispy breath. Of course he would lose his soulmate not even a week after meeting him. Everyone else had left too, it really only made sense.

He didn't know why he'd let himself hope.

"I don't want you to go."

A painfully strong shiver up his spine forced the teenager to stop in the middle of the alleyway he'd been cutting through. Peter pulled back his sleeve, brows furrowing as the hairs on his arm rose on end. Without his phone, or the watch kept on his webshooter, the teen had no way of knowing what time it was, but it had to have been at least half an hour since Mr. Stark had taken the suit. Since he'd caused a gun to split a ferry full of innocent bystanders in half.

"And I wanted you to be better."

Peter had assumed his senses had continued to freak out from the resounding adrenaline and the complete rush of panic that had been today--from the horribleness of it all--but they still weren't calming down.

Jittery, he turned to leave the alleyway back the way he came, but there was a man blocking his way. He froze when he recognized him and the glitching gauntlet on his arm. From the bridge and the ferry. The man stalked forward.

Peter whipped around to escape towards the other end, but another man stood there as well, a different alien weapon in his hands. Peter paused again, eyes shifting desperately for an escape even as the weapon behind him charged up with a threatening snap.

"Give it up, kid," ordered the man. "Come easy, and we won't hurt you."

"Wow. So reassuring," Peter snapped. Without warning, the teenager leaped, jumping onto the wall as high as he could reach. He attempted to begin skittering up the wall, but there was another spike in his senses.

There was no time to dodge as he was encased by an annoyingly familiar blue light that crashed him to the ground straight into a gathering of trashcans. He groaned in pain as he collided with the metal, the cans tipping over and releasing their contents near and on him. There were footsteps, and he tried to push himself back up, but the man with the gauntlet approached quicker than he could recover.

The teenager stared up at him as the man smirked. The gauntlet cracked.

"Nighty-night."

Peter could only close his eyes as a metal fist came crashing down.

---

~Click for better quality~

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

[ichika27]

Mairimashita! Iruma-kun s2 ep12

We’re halfway through the second season, I suppose?

This episode gives us a little glimpse of the home life of the Abnormal Class students and also a bit of insight about Kalego-sensei himself.

Grandpa Sullivan is excited for the coming vacation as it means he could spend time with his grandson. Opera then tells him he still has some work to do before then including a request from Opera themselves. As repayment for helping him look cool in front of Iruma and friends in the party episode, Grandpa Sullivan agrees to Opera's request and says he, too finds it interesting.

Okay, just a thought but I heard the episode with the party was a filler? Like, it wasn’t in the manga or something or did I get that wrong? Or did they decide to connect it to the story?

At school, Kalego-sensei gets a special task from the school principal: to visit the homes of the Abnormal Class students before the vacation starts. He hates it but he has no choice. He decides to just go in, talk to the parents, go out and to end this as quickly as possible.

First up is Asmodeus! Azz mother unfortunately isn't home though (Azz purposely not let his mom know about the meeting) so his butler is the adult there with him. Kalego-sensei then asks him if he's told his parents about school matters and Azz replies that he does... talk about Iruma and his achievements. Sensei gets annoyed as he was supposed to talk about himself but Azz said he excels at school all the time so there's no need to say anything about it.

Two cute girls (who are relatives, calling Azz "brother") comes out and agrees that Azz is amazing although they hate it that he had been too preoccupied with Iruma recently that they don't hang out as much anymore. Azz apologizes to them... and says Iruma comes first. This led the two kids to get mad at Iruma and insult him. Azz runs after them trying to change their minds.

The butler then talks to Sensei a bit about Azz's past and says the boy has changed and had become happier after enrolling at Babyls and meeting Iruma. Kalego-sensei says he understands cause as demons, becoming the subordinate of someone who beat you is a normal thing. He does note though that if Asmodeus stops being too narrow-minded and only thinking about Iruma, he’d grow and become better and if that happens, he’d become a better subordinate to Iruma. He does tell the butler that he won’t be telling Azz this as the guy has to figure it out by himself.

Next is Clara's family who even gives him a warm welcome. There's also a musical number much to his annoyance. He absolutely doesn't like it in there and wanted to leave lol. The anime really made musical numbers the Valac Family thing, huh?

Poor Sensei is at their mercy haha.

Just when he couldn't take it anymore, Clara's older brother finally makes his appearance and apologizes to Sensei for the trouble. Urara, unlike everyone else in the family is polite and mature making Kalego-sensei question if the boy really is a part of the family or if he was kidnapped from somewhere else lol. Sensei was able to talk to them normally for a while before they start their antics again. Sensei was able to give advice about Clara though. He mentions how Clara is a bit insensitive (as she doesn’t consider how her actions affect others) and causes trouble but is good in a sense that she could make people follow her own pace.

Oh and Clara’s mom mentioned that someone like Urara does come into their family from time to time. Like, most of them will act like the typical Valac family member but once in a while, they’d produce someone like Urara whose different. I think this is interesting since they have been hinting about him from season 1 and now he’s here and there’s something about him that’s different.

The other students homes aren't any better and Sensei had to deal with whatever trouble or craziness that'd be there waiting for him. By the end of it all, he was tired.

In a way, he should’ve expected this. I mean, this is the Abnormal Class we;re talking about. He got a lot of souvenirs from them all though and has a bad full of random stuff by the end (most came from Clara’s family).

The final visit was to Iruma's house. Kalego-sensei just wanted things to be over with but his fears came go be realized when he meets the one person he didn't want to see: Opera who used to be his senpai.

Sensei seem to be scared or at least very wary of Opera that he uses Iruma as a shield lol.

Grandpa shows up and shows what Kalego-sensei looked like when he was young. He then proceeds to drop some details about Kalego-sensei as a student (as Sensei complains about it).

It seems that back in his school days, Kalego-sensei gets challenged to fights often and rumors about him pop up as well which he finds to be a pain. The only person he could talk to was Baram-sensei who was also a student back then. The two talked about what's going on and realized Kalego-sensei must've been mistaken by others as someone else. There was no student council back then so things were also more chaotic (It seems Ameri’s influence made a big difference to how school operates now).

He then later learns who everyone mistook him for. The person who the rumors talk about that could defeat many demons: Opera. Since then, Opera had been sort of bossing Kalego-sensei around and it seems sensei might be a bit traumatized as he uses Iruma as shield once again.

Nice. We get a little backstory not just about Kalego-sensei but also about Opera who was a delinquent. Opera seem to still enjoy making Kalego feel bad.

They eventually proceed with the parent-teacher meeting although not without pestering Kalego-sensei for a moment. Sensei talked about the troubles Iruma got into but he also mentioned his accomplishments. Grandpa then takes the record book sensei is holding and reveals it's entirely about Iruma.

Iruma then realizes the hard work Kalego-sensei does as he probably wasn't the only one who sensei had looked into. Sensei takes his book back and gives Iruma proper advice. He says Iruma shouldn’t mix up responsibility with self-sacrifice and should be careful with the actions he takes.

When it was finally over and he could finally leave, Opera forces Kalego-sensei to stay and even had him turned into his familiar form.

The next day, Sensei thanks everyone for letting him into their homes but informs them that he'd be increasing the number of their homework and everyone complains while Sensei is happy to see them struggling.

Later, as vacation finally comes close, the class goes to Iruma’s house to invite him to Walter Park. Iruma agrees of course and the group excitedly talked about what they'd do next.

--

I really liked this episode. It’s nice to see more of Iruma’s classmates even if it’s just for a few seconds each. We also get more info on Clara and Asmodeus and about their family members who hadn’t appeared til now. Also backstory about Opera!

The thing I liked the most about this however, is seeing what kind of person Kalego-sensei is. He’s strict and gets easily angry and seems to not like his students. He would be what we’d describe as a “terror teacher” but surprisingly, he isn’t unfair. He wouldn’t randomly flunk a student because he doesn’t like them and does take his job seriously. He doesn’t disregard the good points of a troublesome student and also looks into how a student could better themselves. He likes seeing them struggle but would acknowledge their accomplishments (we also see this back at the end of the exams where he disappointingly announced that everyone passed). Grandpa Sullivan even mentioned how he’s glad Kalego-sensei is the teacher in-charge. No wonder everyone at school respects Kalego-sensei - it’s not just about his strength or how scary he is but it’s cause he truly is a responsible, reliable, and competent teacher.

I like how we’re learning a lot about other characters this season. It makes them more likable and makes it more fun to watch their interactions with one another.

I guess the Walter Park arc would be next? I hear it’s action-packed so I look forward to it.

Thank you for reading this far!

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Book 2: secrets revealed Virgil Anker: trust and caution

Masterlist book 1

It's not easy to know who to trust and who to be wary off. But Virgil better learn soon.

When Virgil got back to the new house, he took a shower and sat himself on the couch in his pj’s. He was listening to his ‘winding down’ playlist. He was grinning to himself. Someone else was wearing his design. Sure he’d made Janus a shirt way back in freshmen year, but he barely wore it outside the house. This would be seen by tons of people. And it looked so good! He couldn’t wait till Monday. He could imagine Roman’s reaction. Would there be pictures in the papers? On the news? He just might buy a paper so he could keep a clipping to look back on later. Thinking about gushing over the costume with Roman at school made him think about seeing Janus again. J had skipped school after what happened in the hallway, leading to him having detention all of last week. He hadn’t even so much as looked at Virgil since. Not in a, “I am mad and ignoring you way,”. He looked ashamed. Scared. That was what made it so hard for Virgil to stick to his plan. Janus looked so hurt and lost and ashamed. And during lunch, he was nowhere to be found. Virgil needed to talk to Picani about this tomorrow. It would be a busy session. He contemplated where things had gone wrong for the millionth time for a while until he heard the door and looked up to see his fathers enter the room. “You’re back!” he greeted as he sat up. “So I gotta know, who’s your fourth guy?” he wondered casually. His dad just looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” “For your poker nights,” he clarified with a chuckle. Imagining Patton or uncle Thomas playing poker was kind of funny. It seemed so out of character for them. Still he couldn’t imagine what else would take all three of them getting together like this. Thomas had taught musical theatre classes, back when he was still a professor, and now he was the dean. Then again, Virgil wasn’t certain his uncle was always present. Tonight might just have been one time he happened to be there. But Patton definitely had been part of this project as much as Logan was. The past six months at the very least, but most likely from the start. “No cardgames I’m afraid kiddo. We’ll tell you about the project once it’s finished. It’s all confidential for now I’m afraid,” Patton told him gently. Virgil looked long and hard at Patton. He wasn’t lying. And confidential stuff made a lot of sense. He shrugged, letting it go. Even if his first guess was right after all and his dad was doing some kind of superhero stuff as BrainStorm, if Patton was there to help him Virgil felt assured that they’d be safe. Though he wouldn’t know how Patton, or Thomas, got wrapped up with anything involving a former super villain. “Okay, keep your secrets,” he sighed as he stretched. “Night Pat, night Lo,” he bid before heading upstairs. “Goodnight Virgil, I love you.” Virgil looked back at his dad when he heard that. “Love you to dad,” he replied with a smile. “Love you three kiddo!” Patton added, making Virgil laugh. “Love ya Pat.” And with that he went upstairs to his room. His new room was bigger than the one in his old house. But he didn’t care much about that. His old room had memories. He missed it honestly. He started to worry that he’d been too quick to say that he wanted to move out. No matter how nice the new house was, and how conveniently it was positioned, it would never quite be like the one he’d known most of his life. He let himself drop on his bed. It was pointless to think about that now. At this point, another family had probably moved into their old home. They’d brought their own furniture. Probably painted over the walls. Erasing the little doodles he’d made when he was little and bored. Before his mind could go any farther down that path, he heard a buzzing. Roman sent him a text. “Greetings! I just got back. Sorry for not checking in earlier. Could not be helped. Did you get home alright?” Virgil chuckled and texted back. “LOL. You worry too much. Hope you had a fun night.” Virgil certainly did. Just thinking about it made him impatient. Oh why not? Before he could second guess himself, he pressed call. “Virgil?” Roman sounded surprised, but Virgil was already way to giddy about his news. “I had to tell you now. I saw him!” he whispered. “Who? And why are we whispering?” Roman asked, mimicking his volume. “I’m supposed to be asleep,” he admitted, earning himself a chuckle. “Ok… Who did you see?” Roman asked. “Dream Prince!” expecting the logical next question he edited his story a little. “I went for a walk and I guess he was doing patrol in my neighborhood, I caught a glimpse of him,” well, that was an understatement. But he couldn’t tell Roman everything. Not yet. He’d lectured Prince about being cautious just today. He trusted Roman. But anyone could overhear them at any time. “He was wearing my costume! You were right! I can’t wait to get a good look at it in action!” Again. “You think someone got a picture? I didn’t have a chance. God I should’ve taken a picture so I could show you!” Though he wasn’t sure if he could’ve managed to get a believable citizens picture of him. He doubted Prince could be photographed if he didn’t want to be. “I’m sure I’ll see your work plastered around the front pages Monday. Pretty sure you missed out on the Saturday edition. But the news stations might talk about it.” Virgil’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “You sure you don’t want your name attached to it?” Virgil considered that for a moment. It would be kind of cool, he supposed. But he was trying not to draw any attention to his civilian self so long as he did the vigilante gig. Asides from that, he didn’t want anyone to be able to claim any of his future successes were due to his connection to a superhero, or have expectations based on this one work. “Yeah… I just… I know I should want the credit. But, just in case he becomes like this big time hero,” which seemed very likely to Virgil. His powers were pretty amazing and he had the personality to make it big. “I don’t want my possible career to be defined before it starts, you know what I mean?” He hoped he did, because he was starting to get confused by his own phrasing. “Maybe I’ll come forth with the original sketch when I’m like, 30, to prove it was me if it still matters by then,” he concluded. “Sounds like a smart plan. I’m going to let you go. I do need my beauty sleep after all.” Oh, he made it too easy. “You said it, not me,” he chuckled. “Night Princey.” “Buenas noches. Mi querido amigo,” Roman replied dramatically. Virgil rolled his eyes. Though he smiled as he realized Roman just called him ‘dear friend’. Trying to hide the way that warmed his chest he let out a groan. “Bon nuit,” he huffed in retaliation before hanging up. Janus had taught him a bit of French over the years. And just like that his thoughts returned to his old friend. Janus had been well behaved the past week. He hadn’t gotten in a single fight. Maybe he should try and show that he noticed. Just saying ‘hi’ wouldn’t be that bad right? Show that he meant it when he said he wanted to get back to being friends, real friends, at some point. With thoughts of a happy ending for everyone, Virgil fell asleep. The next morning he woke up early. He made sure to be quiet as he got ready for the day. Once downstairs he turned on the tv. And sure enough, the local station was talking about Dream Prince. A professional picture of him leaping across the street from one rooftop to another serving as background. The anchors were talking about his heroic deeds of last night, ranging from walking a girl home to taking down those criminals ‘single handedly’. “No one can deny it. This young hero finds no feat too great or too small, and he does it with style. Looks like he’s settled on a look.” They thought his costume had style! Virgil was vibrating with excitement. He couldn’t sit still. He had to do something with all this energy. He started on breakfast. Bacon, eggs… It had been a while since he’d felt up to making a big breakfast and been the first to wake up. Patton was as much of an early riser as he and Logan. Which meant he hadn’t had Virgil’s secret omelet recipe yet. He was bouncing on his feet as the two anchors were analyzing the costume in as much detail as they could. They found the heels a bold choice and the mask an elegant way to incorporate a crown. When Virgil heard his dads move about upstairs he turned the news off and set the table. Patton really liked the eggs. That or he really wanted Virgil to think so. Three servings made him think that it wasn’t pretend though. After breakfast, uncle Thomas picked him up for their trip to the zoo. Virgil had been looking forward to it. It felt forever ago since he last spent some one on one time with his honorary uncle. “That’s a nice one. You really got the eyes down well,” he complemented as Virgil finished a sketch of a koala. “Thanks,” Virgil said, pretty happy with the result as well. “You are really talented. Guess it runs in the family. I remember your dad scribbling away in his poetry notebook all the time.” Virgil looked at his uncle with wide eyes. “You knew my father?” he asked perplexed. Thomas frowned down at him for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, no. I never personally met your birthfather. I meant Logan,” he clarified. Virgil was a little disappointed. For a second he’d hoped to learn a little more about his birthparents. But if Thomas had been talking about Logan… “My dad wrote poetry?” Thomas chuckled. “Yeah. He was pretty good. Though he’d disagree. He felt more comfortable using his sharp tongue on the debate team. He won us some prizes,” he recalled. Virgil took this in. He had wondered what his dad was like at his age before. Now was a good time to ask more. “So poetry and debate team… Guess that is why you two became friends, huh?” he asked. Thomas shook his head a little awkwardly. “Not exactly. With my social anxiety I probably wouldn’t have approached him if my mom hadn’t told me about his mom losing custody…” “What!?” Virgil gasped. He never knew that. Thomas cringed realizing he had maybe said to much. He looked down at Virgil. “Your grandparents weren’t parents of the year. Not abusive, but… neglectful I suppose. Logan never talked about it, so I don’t know the details. Just what little ” “He was in the system?” Virgil asked with a shiver. He’d heard about the system. He was glad he never had to experience it. “No, like for you there was someone ready to take him in right away,” Thomas told him. Virgil wanted to ask who had adopted his dad. But he had an idea… And he kind of didn’t want to hear he was wrong. He wanted it to be his parents. It would explain why Logan had such a hard time talking about them, but had so much love and respect for them when he did. “What was it like rooming with him? Was he secretly a slob in college?” he asked hopefully. Thomas relaxed and started talking about a few college stories, though he quickly veered into high school and early parenthood stories. At the end of the day Virgil had a good handful of animal sketches, an idea for his art project for the semester and Thomas dropped him off at Picani’s office. “Hello Virgil. How are you today? I heard you had a good scare earlier this week.” Virgil let out a deep sigh, sat down and started his story. Leaving Picani’s office a little bit later than planned, he felt a lot better. Or, well ‘better’ never had been the right word. He’d realized that sometime during the camp. After talking about Picani about what bothered him, he was still bothered by it. But he understood things more clearly. He felt less confused and had an idea of what to do about it. Picani never told him everything would be okay. He helped him understand what was wrong and how to either steer it in a better direction, or learn to live with it. He now felt less uncertain about wanting to give Janus a sign that there was still hope for them, even after what happened last week. He felt less guilty over indulging the people asking him out even though Roman was still very much on his mind. He even felt better about getting more information than he should’ve from uncle Thomas. It had been a relief talking about his theory that his dad had been in his parent’s custody for at least four years and that that was, maybe, the reason why he took him in when they passed. And the fact that he had at least one set of grandparents that might be still alive. He wasn’t going to ask about them though. If they held bad memories for his dad, he didn’t think he wanted to know them. It was very low on his list of priorities. The fact that his dad never mentioned them told him enough. The whole scare with the ceiling lamp was discussed and Picani left it alone when Virgil said that he didn’t want to waste too much time on it. “I’m home!” he announced as he came through the door. He heard Patton call a greeting from the kitchen and saw his dad come from the living room to meet him in the doorway. “Dad!” he called out eagerly as he gave his father a hug. “Virgil? Not that I do not appreciate you seem excited to see me. But is there a particular reason?” There were a few honestly. Knowing a bit more about how he ended up being raised by the smartest, most patient man he’d ever met had him excited. On top of that knowing what his dad was like at his age made him feel closer to him. He decided to focus on the latter. He’d turn sixteen soon. If Logan hadn’t initiated the conversation by then, he would. He could be patient for another month. “Uncle Thomas told me about your teen years. I didn’t know you were on the debate team!” he told him. He could imagine his dad thriving in that environment though. Maybe they should check out the debate team this year in between Roman’s play and Virgil’s art exhibit. Logan gave Virgil a small smile, a bit of pride in his eyes. It was rare for Virgil to see his dad proud of himself. He liked it. “Well, yes. It was a bit of a hobby of mine, as well as an attempt to get better at socializing,” Logan said modestly. Virgil picked up on the operative word in that sentence. ‘Attempt’. “You were a socially awkward nerd,” he concluded with a chuckle. He was so used to being nothing like his dad. Finding flaws and similarities to himself in the man he’d idolized as long as he could remember, it was strangely exhilarating. Logan, however seemed to misunderstand what had Virgil so thrilled. “Hey, that’s a complement! I’m a socially awkward artsy kid. Sounds like I’m your son after all!” he clarified. That reminded him though. “Speaking off. Uncle Thomas told me you wrote poetry back in the day.” “Really!?” Patton exclaimed from the kitchen. Logan was blushing. Scrambling for a way out of the conversation it seemed. “I… Experimenting with different forms of self-expression is a natural part of discovering one’s identity as a teenager. It was a phase. I would like to forget about it.” Virgil was about to argue against it, but Patton beat him to it. “Aw, but poetry is so romantic,” he pouted. And Virgil could see the way that affected his dad. Well, their date nights were about to get ten times more sappy. Hopefully going for the heart, and his ego, would work out just as well for Virgil. “That’s too bad. I thought I could make a project around your old work for art class,” he sighed disappointedly. And just like that his dad’s firm posture melted away. “I’ll see if I can find some of my old notebooks. Just ask my consent before you pick one.” Virgil couldn’t resist hugging him again. “Thanks dad. You won’t regret it. I promise.” He felt his father put his arms around him gently. A wordless “you’re welcome”. Virgil was feeling very chatty during dinner and so told his parents all about his day. They had to go to the university again tonight. Since Virgil was planning on meeting up with Prince and not sure if he’d be out all night or just long enough to talk to the guy, he bid them both a good night now. Just in case he’d be too tired to wait for them to get home once he got back. As soon as they were out the door Virgil dug in his closet for his face mask, something he wore when he was feeling sick and didn’t want to infect others. And his shades. He was going to take a chance on Prince today. He made sure he had his evidence at the ready. He’d updated it earlier that week and last night he hadn’t learned anything new. He decided to go with the same look as yesterday so Prince would recognize him more easily. He made his way to the street and vanished in the alleys. After a few minutes he found the rooftop they’d used as their rendezvous point last night. Hopefully Prince wouldn’t make him wait too long. He lowered the intensity of his cloak to be more easily spotted should someone be looking for him. Suddenly he heard a sound behind him. “Good evening my shadowy friend,” the grand voice of Dream Prince drifted through the air. Virgil turned around, his coat flaring out with the movement. “Hey there highness,” he greeted as he tossed him the evidence bag. Clear of any fingerprints or DNA as far as he could manage it, as usual. Prince studied it for a moment. “Is this…?” he sounded surprised. “A show of good will. I thought about it…” not enough. Maybe he was biased because he reminded him of Roman. Or because he’d seen him during his training wheel days. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone anymore. “You seem alright. I’ll… I’ll have your back. If you have mine.” They could help each other. Grow stronger together. Weren’t heroes always at their strongest once they learned to work together? “You do know that if I hand this in, they’ll know I made contact?” This guy. Virgil chuckled, finding this strangely endearing. “You mean you haven’t told them yet?” Prince’s posture straightened almost defiantly. “You didn’t say you were alright with that!” Was he actually insulted by the idea of reporting back to his people without Virgil’s permission? Guess he’d read him right. Good to know. “Okay. Well, consider this my permission. If I don’t want to be found, I’ll disappear Prince.” He’d find a way to avoid Prince if it was necessary. “Tell the chief all communication with me goes through you. If you don’t mind.” Because Virgil didn’t trust the chief enough to go anywhere near her. Prince nodded as he reached for his ear. “I am currently debriefing Phantom. I’ll let you know when I’m done here. Tell chief I’ll stop by with a package. Radio silence until further notice.” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. This guy. He really needed to be more careful. “You ever thought I might be a bad guy? You shouldn’t cut off your back up like that in front of me.” Had they taught him nothing at the GTH? “You’ve had plenty chances to take me out,” Prince pointed out, much to Virgil’s surprise. “You could have let those goons get me the first time you saw me. You could have attacked me while I was busy with those guys yesterday. And who knows how many times over the summer. And on top of that. Who says my communicator is my only way of contacting back up?” Okay, so maybe Prince knew what he was doing after all. “Fair enough. So what now?” He had no idea what would come after this. He just knew that Prince reached out, and he’d accepted. The ball was back in Prince’s court. “Now… I warn you about the collector.” That sounded very serious. He almost wanted to get out before he could get involved, but a gut feeling told him that this was important. He eyed the edge of the roof. Well might as well get comfortable. “I feel like this is a sitting down kind of conversation.” Once they both sat down, Virgil put on his sunglasses and dropped his cloak completely. It was symbolic or whatever. Letting his guard down in a visible way. He turned to the prince expectantly, a little annoyed at how the dark glasses limited his vision. Prince took in a deep breath and started his story. “The collector is an old enemy of Manifestor. He recruits Gifted, and those he thinks deserve to be gifted for some kind of revolution. You and I are probably his kind of people. Young, full of potential. All that stuff creeps like that love to go on about.” Virgil’s eyes widened. That did sound bad. He was suddenly very glad he had not confided in anyone about his powers so far. Who knew if the Chief was on the Collector’s payroll? Or maybe Picani was being spied on. “So we should be careful, you and I. I want to help you out,” Prince told him as he offered him two small objects. A stone and lip balm? “These can help you hide your identity without having to use your… Do you have a name for it?” Prince wondered. Virgil wasn’t sure if he could disguise his voice. But if he did, he was not going to risk Prince being someone from school who might recognize his voice. “Cloak,” he replied before dropping his guard again. “Cloak… Cool,” Prince nodded as he showed the black stone. “So this, is a voice modulator. I adjusted it to fit your tempest voice as best as I could.” Virgil couldn’t help laughing. Tempest voice? That sounded so cool honestly. But man was it dramatic. “You clearly have not heard it,” Prince pointed out and he had a point. He sounded normal to himself. “What’s with the lipstick?” he asked. “This will paint your hair black faster than any hair dye. It’s also a very good hair gel and it washes out right away,” Virgil bit his lip as Prince offered him the items. He was not used to being helped. Not as ‘Phantom’ at least. He still struggled with it as Virgil. Letting Roman help him with his English assignment yesterday had been hard. But he had to let people help him. He had to take a leap of faith here. So he took the items and got up to try them out. “No peeking!” he warned, though he would keep his cloak up. It was more to test if Prince would be tempted to go against his wishes. He didn’t. Virgil placed the modulator on his throat where Prince had his red stone and applied the balm to his hair. He spread it out and took a moment to decide on the style he wanted to go with. He tried for windblown, though he wasn’t sure if he did it right without a mirror. “Okay, let’s try this,” he said testing out his new voice. Wow, if that was what he really sounded like then Tempest voice might just have been the most accurate description. He looked back at Prince who was getting up and waling over to him. “Okay. So… what’s the plan?” he asked, curious what Prince was expecting out of this collaboration. “Well… We could try and meet up here regularly. We might not always patrol at the same time, and you might be busy. But I could… If you are okay with it… I could help you coordinate with the cops. Like you kinda suggested earlier. Or we could like, do some patrolling together? Keep each other company…” Oh, that was cute. Prince could be insecure. Virgil was starting to think he was unshakable. “It might be nice talking someone who gets it you know? You’re my age right?” he wondered. Nice try. Very subtle. “I mean… I guess, but I’m not sure how old you are exactly,” he shrugged casually. He wasn’t going to give anything away that easily. “Fair point.” Or maybe there hadn’t been an ulterior motive. He was getting paranoid. “Anyway… What do you want?” Virgil thought about that for a moment. He hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. “I mean… Debriefings sound cool,” he said casually. “I’d like to patrol with you, but my parkour is no match to that walking on air trick you got…” He was kind of jealous of that one if he was honest. “I was thinking of hanging around the clubbing district at the end of the night and making sure some party goers get home safe. I’ll see you around there when you’re done?” This talk was fun and all, but Prince should probably check in with his team soon. And Virgil needed to think about things for a minute. “That sounds like a good idea,” Prince agreed as he gave him a bow. “Until then. Know that the GTA’s resources are now at your disposal through me. So if you want to get a proper suit or other fun toys, you need only ask.” And with that Virgil’s new ally sprinted of into the night. A real suit huh? Virgil shook his head. He’d have to think on that some more. For now, he had work to do.

Hero au

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse

[spiderman-homecomeme]

nuts about you

It’s simple. Thirty days. All of November. No nutting allowed. Can Peter survive? A friends/roommates to lovers tale of stupid bets, sabotage, and most important of all, nuts. 

thotumn. day 11. free prompt day finale.

Thank you @spideysmjs​ for organizing this magical month for us!! Because I am TOO impatient, I’m posting this a day early (also to keep my tradition of not posting things at the right time). Enjoy this purely goofy adventure. 

--

Of all of the stupid ideas Peter and Ned have thought of in their ten-plus years of friendship, this one’s up there. 

Easily in the top three. 

No, it’s more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s pointless. No one in their right mind actually thinks this is a good idea or that there’s any reason to do it. It’s an internet joke that’s too old, a meme that has no right being funny anymore. It’s run its course, and the guise of it raising awareness for anything other than the masturbation habits of penis-havers is complete and utter bullshit.

Again. It’s stupid.

Still, Peter Parker is not one to turn down a challenge, no matter how stupid. He’s nothing if not competitive. What can he say? If he won’t do it, who will?

This is what he considers as Ned lays it on the table for him.

All of November. Thirty days. 

Peter doesn’t know how the conversation even started or how they ended up betting against each other in the world’s most moronic challenge. All he knows is that Ned is more than convinced that Peter is weak and won’t last. In fact, he’s so convinced that he’s willing to bet money on it. His reasoning ends up being that Peter isn’t strong enough.

And Peter? Well, he’s convinced that he will make it, that he can survive an entire month without giving in to his desires to bust a nut, to beat his meat, etc. etc. And he, too, is willing to bet money—a stupid amount, maybe more than a hundred—on his own success and his friend’s failure. He doesn’t want to appear too cocky, but he’s more than a hundred percent sure he’s got this in the bag. Yeah, it’s thirty days of cutting out one of Peter’s favorite pastimes—if not the favorite—but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s more than capable of practicing a little restraint. 

Still, confident as he is, there’s still that part of him that can’t help but dread the coming month the more and more he thinks about it. 

“So, definitely thirty days?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in thought. He tries to appear casual, as if the idea of no release for that amount of time isn’t a big deal. It’s more for clarification. “November has thirty days?”

Ned scoffs. “Yeah. Thirty days.”

“Any strikes? Any free coupons?”

“Nope.” Ned shakes his head with a soul-crushing finality. “Why? You don’t think you can make it?” 

It’s Peter’s turn to scoff, face scrunching dramatically as he recoils. “What? No. I’m worried about you, man. What are you gonna do about Betty?” 

Ned fixes him with a deadpan stare, clearly not buying whatever bullshit Peter’s trying to peddle. “A bet is a bet. She will respect that.”

“How can I trust you, though?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing in slight accusation. “You’re always at her place. I mean, how’ll I know you’re not lying?”

Ned glares. “How can I trust you?”

Peter sputters, desperately thinking of ways to throw a reverse Uno at this situation. “Wha—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m—I’m single, man.”

Ned blinks. Once. Twice. “Do we need to talk about Felicia?”

“That was—”

“Cindy?”

“Dude—”

“Johnny? Jessica? Gwen—”

“I get it. I get it—”

“Carlie? Oh—Debbie? Caleb! Then there was Angela—”

Peter’s expression contorts into one of confusion. “Angela?” He tilts his head, squinting, searching for any kind of memory. 

“Cute red head. You met her in line at Aldi.”

“Ahhh…” A knowing, borderline too-telling smile of recognition pulls at Peter’s lips. “Angela...” he sighs, almost dreamily. Okay, so maybe Ned has a point. But just because Peter enjoys the company of other people so much that he’s got his own version of Mambo No. 5, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of living without the warm touch of another human being or his hand. 

Peter freezes, glancing at his friend. “Okay. Well. What do you want me to do about that? It’s not like I’m gonna call any of them up or anything. I have some sense of self-control.”

Again, Ned blinks. 

“And besides, Felicia was freshman year… she’s our friend now. I don’t hook-up with her anymore.”

Another blink. “Dude.”

“Fine.” Peter huffs, whipping his phone out, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets and onto the floor as he starts swiping through his contacts. “But I’m not deleting any of ‘em, okay?” 

“Peter…” 

“I’ll change their names! How ‘bout that?” 

A beat passes of silent, overtly-judgmental staring on Ned’s part. He huffs after another second, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine.” Then, his frown shifts into a nonchalant smirk. “Whatever makes it easier for you to lose and me to win.” 

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “I’m not the one with a girlfriend. You’re going down.” He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, lips pursed in mock-contemplation as he points a finger. “Or I guess… Betty’s the one going down.”

Ned nearly chokes on his water holding back a snort. “Come on, man.”

Peter shrugs. 

“Okay, well, are you gonna change the contact name for your right hand, too?”

It’s Peter’s turn to spit out a laugh. 

But before he can even come up with another totally awesome comeback, he hears the jingling of keys, the clanking of locks as their roommate comes home after a long day of classes. All he sees is a flash of her curly hair before he’s tearing his gaze away from the front door, suddenly finding the pads of his thumbs to be pretty damn interesting. 

“Hey, MJ,” Ned greets casually, as if they weren’t just sorting out a bet where neither of them are allowed to orgasm for an entire month. 

“‘Sup.” Michelle flashes them a brief, closed-mouth grin as she makes for the refrigerator, swiping up some baby carrots and the brita filter. 

Really, the conversation from earlier should be done there. Nothing else needs to be said. Especially not in front of their roommate. 

But Peter can’t help himself. 

“Let’s shake on it,” he says, putting his hand out, knowing that the more he keeps talking, the more danger he’s in of saying too much. 

Ned takes it readily, eyes narrowed in determination. “Let’s.”

The corner of Peter’s lip twitches upward, but he holds it back. “No… Peanuts.”

“No walnuts.”

They have that understanding, speaking in the code that the two of them have just made up on the spot, something that Peter can’t help but feel pretty damn proud of. 

MJ glances between the two, carrot half-way to her mouth, frozen in place, brows pinched in suspicion. 

“Peter and I are giving up all nuts for the next month,” Ned says proudly, answering the question that she most certainly did not ask. 

“Cool.”

Ned throws a not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks-it-is wink across the table, giving a just as subtle thumbs up from behind one of his stray history books. 

Peter nods. 

“Why?” Michelle asks, her question—one that shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise at is was—causing them both to exchange wary glances. 

There’s a silence that follows, one that might clearly show that these two guys have no idea what kind of hole they’ve dug themselves into. Ned watches Peter expectantly. Peter glares back. 

“Is it like a health thing?” MJ offers, popping another carrot into her mouth.

Peter nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Health stuff.” His stomach flips when her gaze meets his, her eyes squinting as she chews thoughtfully. 

“May thinks Peter might have a nut allergy,” Ned hastily spits out. When both sets of eyes land on him, he laughs. “So his allergist suggested going a month without ‘em. To see if that makes it better.”

And honestly, Peter thinks that’s a pretty damn good save. 

The best part is that MJ seems to buy it. She nods. “So why are you doing it, Ned?”

“Solidarity,” Ned offers quickly. 

Nice save. 

“Ah,” MJ purses her lips, though she still doesn’t seem to care all that much. “Well, good luck. I guess. I know how much you guys… love… nuts? I guess?”

Peter nods solemnly. 

When she turns back to grab a cup from the cabinet, he throws Ned a quick single nod.

Well played.

--

“So, Peter’s doing no nut November.”

Felicia nearly chokes, snorting as she struggles to keep her vanilla latte in her mouth. “What?” She asks after a dangerous second. They were supposed to be having a nice study sesh, reading about Bloom’s taxonomy, not talking about Peter’s nut habits. 

“He and Ned made a stupid bet to see who could last the whole month,” MJ answers, taking a quiet sip of her London Fog. “Apparently they bet a lot of money on it.”

Felicia’s face scrunches in amused confusion. “Why?”

“Do they really need a reason to do dumb shit?” 

Considering that for a second, Felicia nods with a satisfied frown. “Fair.”

“I bet against Peter, though,” MJ continues. “After he left, I made Ned let me in on it. There’s no way Pete can last the whole month, right? Not even a week.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Felicia vehemently shook her head. “I honestly feel like he’d spontaneously combust after, like, a day.” Then, she lets out a quiet snort. “Combust a nut.”

Michelle wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“But for real. He’s not gonna make it.”

“That’s what I said. Ned seems to have some faith in him though—no idea why. I told him that Peter wouldn’t even last a week… and now I guess I’m involved.”

“This would be so easy to sabotage though.”

“Right?” 

“Seriously,” Felicia snorts. “All I’d have to do is hit him up one more time and he’s gone.” And then, in that next instant, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That’s it!” Before she says anything else, she’s pulling her phone out, quickly scrolling through, looking for God knows what. “Girl, I am gonna win that bet for you.” 

MJ leans forward, curious, yet still cautious. She’s not sure if Peter hooking up again with Felicia is the best idea, given that relations within the friend group would just make things a giant, tangled up mess of complicated awkwardness. “How?” Michelle dares to ask, craning her neck to see what the hell Felicia’s doing on her phone. 

Her friend is quiet for a moment, locked in concentration on her screen, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, brows knit together. Then, she cracks a satisfied, sly smile, turning her phone to show MJ just what she was looking for. 

Simply; a picture of Felicia’s relatively new tattoo which, in and of itself, doesn’t seem like it would get Peter’s peter going. It’s pretty. Floral. Nothing to lose one’s mind over. 

No, it’s more the placement. 

It’s a tasteful shot, the simple flowers lining the underside of her breasts, her hands acting as makeshift pasties, just barely covering her nipples. 

Still, though there’s no actual nudity, it’s enough to make MJ’s eyes bug out of her head for a moment before she’s realizing what she’s looking at. 

“Okay. So?” Michelle waits for an explanation. 

“I send him this,” Felicia says simply, pulling her phone back and (seemingly) drafting up the very message. “Ask if he wants a closer look at it.” 

Michelle considers it a moment, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that Peter could almost immediately fall into such an obvious trap. The corners of her lips twitch into a casual frown. She shrugs. “Honestly. Yeah. That might work.” 

“Might?” Felicia almost scoffs. 

“You’re a genius.”

A smirk tugs at Felicia’s mouth as she leans back in her chair, swiping up to send the message before putting the phone down on the table. “I know.”

They sit in silence, the two of them watching the screen with bated breath. They both gasp when the read receipt pops up, followed by a dead silence. MJ can only imagine how stressed that boy must be, opening his phone, thinking it’s an innocent text from Felicia, then BAM, he’s vibe-checked by her boobs instead. 

She holds back a snort, her stomach jumping into her throat seeing the dot-dot-dot pop up at the bottom of the screen. It’s almost as if she forgets to breathe, waiting to see what he’s going to say to such a blatant come on. 

It’s like he’s typing a damn novel with how long it’s taking him though, and Michelle’s not sure she can take it much longer. 

And then, her phone dings. 

Felicia’s lips pull into a frown reading the message. “‘Wow. Looks cool! No thanks, though.’ Aaaaand,” she spins her phone for MJ to read it. “Thumbs-up emoji. Smiley face with sunglasses.”

Even MJ’s surprised at that response. Maybe Peter is really taking this No Nut November thing seriously. Maybe he’s not as weak as she thought. But… it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing’s adding up. 

And with this confusion, there’s a sense of relief, knowing his response. Waiting wasn’t fun. 

“Huh.” Felicia sighs, biting her lip in thought as she starts typing out another message and sending it. 

“What did you say?” Michelle asks. 

“I told him I’d been thinking about getting my nipples pierced and wanted to know what he thought.” 

At that, Michelle snorts. “You’re an evil woman.” 

Felicia shrugs innocently. “I think he’d really like ‘em.”

Truly, it’s a genius move. It’s something that Peter has to address; Felicia’s nipples. The idea of them being pierced. It’s too much for his brain to handle. 

And again, just like before, they get into a staring contest with the conversation, watching as the read receipt pops up again, immediately followed by the ever-cruel ellipses as Peter no doubt struggles with a response that’s not too-eager. 

But then, he completely throws them for another loop. 

“‘I support you, friend!’ with…” Her eyes narrow. “A smiley face.” 

“Wow,” Michelle says, genuinely surprised. 

And Felicia seems just as shocked, if not a little offended that one of her oldest tricks in the book seem to have no effect whatsoever. “Did he just… friendzone me?” She asks, absolutely appalled.

“You were already friends before?” Michelle laughs. 

“But in this context?” She huffs, shaking her head. A beat passes where all she does is stare at her phone. “That’s weird,” she says slowly, lips quirking into a confused frown. “Huh.” 

“There, there,” Michelle deadpans, patting her friend stiffly on the hand. 

Felicia laughs. “It’s fine…” She draws out. “A hit to the ego is good for me every once in a while.”

“Oh my God,” MJ rolls her eyes. “You’re still hot. Don’t worry.” 

With a sad, a little over-dramatic nod, Felicia’s frown deepens as she pretends to wipe at her eyes. “Yeah. I am.” 

“I can’t believe that didn’t work,” MJ muses. Really, she can’t. Peter’s perhaps the easiest person she knows—and there’s nothing wrong with that at all; it’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Peter is a thot.

“I guess he’s really following through with this whole no nut thing…” Felicia’s brow furrows as she recoils. “How much money did he bet anyway?”

“A hundred.” 

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.” 

“How much did you put in?” 

“...A hundred.”

“MJ!”

“Listen!” Michelle reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred dollars I’ve ever made.”

Felicia sits back, clearly impressed. “Does Peter know you’re in on it?”

“Nope,” MJ says, emphasizing the ‘p’ with an audible pop. 

“Well—” Felicia starts, shifting in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “—I’m sure you’ll find some way to make that boy give in. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

Michelle lets out a light snort. “It’s okay. You tried.” 

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

But honestly, MJ already has a vague idea of what her next step is. 

And it brings her to his bedroom, to his desk, messing with his laptop while he’s out for his Sunday patrol. His password is entirely too easy to guess—really, you’d think a guy as smart as Peter would have something a little more complicated than “webshooter69.” 

If there’s anything she knows about Peter—maybe a little too much about her friend—is that while he mostly enjoys the company of a flesh and blood human being, he’s not above the occasional perusing of adult websites. 

The guy likes porn. 

The plan is to make his chrome homepage one of his regular sites. Confront him with the images that really get him going. 

She browses through his history, hoping that he hadn’t thought to delete everything or go incognito. And… luckily for her, that particular idea seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. Literally not even a week out and she’s found a slightly-more-than-nefarious-looking website. 

Easy enough. 

And it’s exactly what she’s looking for. Nudity galore. There doesn’t seem to be a corner of the site that doesn’t have a boob or a butt. It is truly Peter’s domain.

For a moment, she wonders if she should make the homepage specifically something he searches for… his favorite genre perhaps. 

She shakes the thought away immediately. It’s too invasive. Besides, the front page should be more than enough—there’s literally a video that frustratingly autoplays every time she goes back to that one page. And why would she need to know what Peter likes? There’s no reason for that. At all. 

Making sure to close out of everything before logging out, she slams the laptop shut, sprinting out of his room as if he was just about to get home. Her heart races as she slams her own bedroom door behind her, catching her breath proving to be more difficult than usual. 

And now, she waits. 

It turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long. 

That evening, in fact, after Peter’s come back for dinner. 

He takes his time microwaving his leftovers from the day before, whistling to himself as he bounces around the kitchen. The whole time it feels like MJ’s just holding her breath, anticipating his early demise the instant he opens up chrome on his laptop. And honestly, this does feel like a low blow, like she’s just snatching up that low-hanging fruit—God, MJ, phrasing—but then she’s reminded that this, again, is the easiest two hundred dollars she will ever earn. 

And then she feels a little less bad about what she’s done. 

The second he’s finished with his food and disappears into his room, her eyes are on his door, and then it occurs to her that there’s not really a way that she can know he’s, well, “lost.” It’s all based on his own honor, if he’ll admit to succumbing to his most basic need. She likes to think that he would, though. Peter’s too much of a good, honest guy—hiding his secret identity aside—that he couldn’t lie to his friends about it. 

Ned comes home not two minutes later, deflating on the other side of the couch. 

“Rough day?” MJ asks, the teasing hint to her tone not going unnoticed. 

Ned rolls his eyes. “Told Betty I was doing this whole month thing.”

MJ winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckles. 

“Well, if it helps, this whole thing is probably gonna end in—” she checks her phone. “—five or so minutes.”

Ned’s gaze darts right and left. “What… What do you mean?” 

Before she can answer, Peter yelps from the other side of his door. There’s a loud crash that sounds suspiciously like a laptop being yeeted across the room in a hasty, knee-jerk reaction. Before either she or Ned can move, Peter’s bursting through his door, eyes blown wide, his face drained of all color, and he’s frozen in place, one hand gripping the doorframe. 

And it takes everything in her not to grin. “Everything okay?”

Peter coughs, scratching the back of his neck, before his gaze lands on Ned in a challenging glare. “DUDE. Not cool.”

Poor Ned looks as confused as ever, his jaw dropping, brows pinching together as he glances between the two. “I—What—what are you talking about?”

Peter narrows his eyes even more. 

“Did I hear something break?” MJ asks carefully, as not to seem too suspicious. 

He startles at her voice, sputtering out a response that mostly sounds like the macaroni glue art of sentences. “Oh—uh—no. It—It was the—the laptop. There was—a thing. And—I just kinda—threw it.” He laughs nervously. “It’s fine though. Not—not broken. All good—” He throws some finger guns. “—in the hood.”

Her lips twist as she nods. 

Peter nods back, hands in his back pockets as he starts to retreat back into his room—though not before throwing another I’m watching you glare at Ned. 

As soon as the door clicks shut, Ned’s in full interrogation mode. 

“MJ, what did you do?”

She shrugs, toying with the loose thread of her hoodie. “Nothing much. Just… Set his default homepage to some porn. No biggie.”

Ned’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes. “Dude… That’s evil.”

Michelle gives another shrug. 

So, her second plan had failed. Even after surprise-porn, Peter’s still in the running. He’s still holding out. Almost a two days into November, and he is surviving, a surprise to everyone involved, and already, MJ’s running out of ideas. Well, good—plausible ideas. There are plenty of ways she’s sure she could compromise him. Take him to a strip-club maybe, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that he’d be able to pick up on what she was doing. There’s no way he’d fall for it. 

Hiring an escort was definitely out of the question. 

Theoretically, both of those could work. Were they good plans? No. Absolutely not. 

He’s already turned down a previous hook-up. He broke his laptop out of the sheer panic that seeing porn brought him. 

There doesn’t seem to be much more that she can do. 

It’s not until the next day, as she’s walking the clothing section of Target with Felicia that she’s struck with an idea. 

Felicia specifically striking her with said idea. 

They’re in the middle of the sleepwear section, MJ mindlessly rifling through the fuzzy sock bin, when she nearly collides with the underwear display. She’s distracted for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon since she’s bought new underwear to justify taking advantage of the sale, when Felicia nudges her with her elbow. 

“Peter’s really into pretty underwear,” she says as if they’re not in the middle of Target. As if there’s not a mom and two kids in the actual pajama section two displays over. 

Michelle recoils slightly, startled. “What?” 

“He’s like, really into it,” she says, taking a casual sip of her iced coffee, reaching over to pick up a particularly lacy number. “Just saying. Might be useful.”

For some reason, MJ feels a strange heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not gonna put these on for him!”

Felicia smirks, holding a hand up in defense. “Who said anything about you wearing it? You can just… leave it lying around for him to find, or something.” She tilts her head to the side, both brows raising. “Jeez, MJ.”

“Oh…” Michelle says, though her face still burns. “Right.” 

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s pretty good. If Peter’s as into fancy underwear as Felicia says he is, then maybe leaving them around like some kind of weird scavenger hunt is the best plan. She doesn’t buy much, picking a pair of relatively cheap lace and polyester. She could use her own underwear for this, but… that would be weird right?

(As if this isn’t weird enough already.)

And besides, the ones she’s buying are a little more extra in that department. They aren’t meant to be worn for long, not from comfort. 

They’re perfect. 

She feels like some kind of underwear fairy, planting them somewhere in the apartment, making sure they’re hidden, yet visible in a place that Peter frequents; it sticks up between the couch cushions, not subtle in the slightest. The second Peter’s butt hits that couch, he’ll see them. There’s no other way around it. 

It becomes another waiting game as she sits in the living chair, knees curled into her chest as she pretends to read quietly. It’s pretend because she can’t focus long enough on any single letter to let her brain absorb anything on the pages. Finally, the front door opens. Peter greets her with a cheery smile, making immediately for the kitchen. 

Good. Yes. He gets his after class snack. Important. 

Just as she’d planned. 

He emerges not two minutes later, bag of cheese crackers in hand as he launches himself over the back of the couch. “‘Sup?” he asks after shoving a mouthful of Cheez-its into his face. 

Michelle wrinkles her nose, her eyes unconsciously darting between the guy on the couch and the panties peeking out from the cushions. “Reading,” she offers, brandishing the very unread book.

Peter nods, tearing his gaze from hers after a beat and reaching for the remote. When he sits back, his hand brushes the cheap lace and he pauses, curious as he looks down to see what he touched. 

All of this while MJ desperately pretends not to notice. 

When he picks the pair up though, his brows pinch together, at first unsure as to what he’s actually looking at. “Uh…” 

At that, MJ looks up, seeing right as the realization sets in. 

Of course, she plays dumb—by staying silent. 

Peter quickly looks to her, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. “It’s—it’s not—these aren’t—” His lips press together as he forces a breath through his nose. “I—Oh god—”

And then, for a split-second, she feels the slightest bit guilty. Is this actually a good plan or is she just tricking him into getting a boner over cheap department store undies? That, and is she technically lying to him by not claiming the offending undergarments? By making him freak out over nothing?

He seems to be having some sort of existential crisis, wondering if these really are from some recent hook-up and the psychological effect of not nutting in three days has caused him to forget. 

This was a terrible idea.

She has to put him out of his misery. 

“Oh, shit. Those—” Her laugh is breathy, short. “—Those are mine.” 

And instantly, Peter drops the thong, as if his hands had been burned. “Oh!” he coughs, his gaze straining as if he’s trying to keep his eyes on her face. “S—Sorry.” He swallows.

“Yeah.” Rising on legs that are shaky—from sitting so oddly in the chair for so long—she goes to snatch up the baby pink lace, clutching it behind her back before Peter can get another look. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot. Uh, when I did… Laundry.”

Peter nods, breathing out a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah. S’fine.” He waves her off, scratching the back of his neck. 

But even after that, Peter still seems off. For some reason, he still doesn’t seem to be able to look at her for more than a split-second. He doesn’t say anything else, sitting in silence, his cheese crackers long forgotten on the coffee table. 

Michelle wonders if she should say something else. Break the tension. It’s awkward, obviously, because he feels weird about touching his friend’s underwear. Anyone would, really. He touched something that theoretically would be on her body; something that normally, he thinks is really sexy, or whatever. 

After another minute of some good old soul-crushing silence, Peter stands, excusing himself to his room without another word. 

Huh. Weird.

--

It’s the movie night that finally gives her that clarity she’s been looking for; that moment where everything clicks into place, and she can finally see how she’s going to win this. 

Ned’s out with Betty, leaving her and Peter alone not for the first time. 

She and Peter are sitting on the couch together, her head resting on his shoulder—because that’s what friends do, obviously—the two of them sharing a gray fuzzy blanket. This is a normal occurrence. They’re close enough in their friendship that some occasional cuddling isn’t too weird. Especially given how chilly it’s been lately. And, it’s comfy. Just some nice head-to-shoulder contact. 

But later in the movie, when MJ starts to get dangerously sleepy, feeling herself drooping further and further, unable to completely pull herself back to reality. Things are fuzzy, almost dreamlike, as she just pulls herself up from his shoulder, giving up entirely on watching the movie and just grumpily laying down right on his lap, his thigh her make-shift pillow.

This isn’t weird. 

It’s normal.

She’s sleepy.

And Peter’s a surprisingly comfy pillow.

Peter doesn’t even have time to ask what she’s doing before she’s just nestling further into his lap. She misses the pure dread and panic that flashes across his face when her head lines up with his head. There’s no safety here. Just a few wrong movements, and she’ll definitely know what’s up. She’ll be an unwitting tourist to Boner City, population: one. 

Peter has to do something. He can’t let this continue. Having his best friends head just straight up on his crotch is not helpful in the slightest. 

���MJ,” he gently nudges her, grimacing slightly when she just burrows further into him. 

He nudges her again, and she grumbles, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. She puts a hand on his thigh to steady herself. 

Peter swallows. 

“What?” She asks, not opening her eyes.

“I uh—” Peter can’t seem to speak, trying desperately to come up with some excuse as to why he has to get the fuck out of there. “—I gotta pee.”

She cracks an eye open skeptically. “But I’m comfy,” she emphasizes her point by—once again—snuggling her face into his lap. 

Peter’s about to lose his damn mind. 

In MJ’s defense, this had started with the best intentions. She truly was just wanting to lay down and sleep on her friends lap—again, a perfectly normal thing—but now… even through the haze of sleep, she’s seeing how much this is effecting him. 

It hadn’t occurred to her until now, that she could be the one that makes him “crack.” They’re just friends. Sure, she thinks he’s attractive, and yeah, maybe she’s had the one or two or three sexy dreams about him before (even some soft, fluffy ones), but that doesn’t mean she thinks about him in that way. 

He's just Peter.

Sweet, adorable, kinda hot Peter.

Again, she doesn't think about him that way.

But she supposes it makes sense. Really, she should have known before putting her head on his crotch that he might get a little flustered from the proximity, that it might remind him of certain things. It's just the body's physiological reaction to a stimulus; the stimulus being her head. It's simple science.

So then, it would also only make sense for her to take advantage of that physiological response she's able to get out of him. Maybe not right at this second, given she's been a little blindsided by this whole thing. But maybe now she can rethink her gameplan. Now she has access to tools she didn't know she had access to before.

Her own sensuality.

She can certainly use that.

And it's not as if she'll do anything too out there. Just... make him feel the heat—the pressure—just a little bit. Make him sweat.

Felicia's of course delighted by this development, giving her full support in "seducing Parker into busting a nut."

(Her words, not MJ's.)

She'd also said something about how it's about time, but that'd been promptly ignored—mainly because MJ didn't know what the hell Felicia was talking about.

The problem is now, though, Michelle's not exactly sure where to start. After Peter had made a dead sprint to the bathroom the night before, he's been a little more, shall we say, cautious, around her. He bounces on his feet, trying desperately to appear casual, acting as if nothing was weird about their movie night.

She only has three days left in the week, so she has to think.

And fast.

--

Peter's not sure if MJ's up to something, but he can't help but feel as though she's acting... strange. First, the underwear thing, which made him feel all kinds of flustered and weird, and then her head being dangerously close to his dick. It's a lot. She can't possibly know about this No Nut thing, right? She wasn't there, and Ned wouldn't have told her... right?

Still, he tries to avoid her as much as he can, ready to fly away the second she's in the same room as him.

Truthfully, he's always had maybe the tiniest crush on his best friend. It's faded in and out over the years, especially in their college years. But it's always been there, even if just the ghost of one. And now, he's starting to see maybe how bad of an idea this was in the first place—No Nut November. His roommate is literally probably the prettiest person in the world and he's being constantly reminded of the one thing he definitely should not be thinking about under any circumstances if he wants to win. It's a disaster that should have never happened in the first place. This could have been prevented, he thinks.

He's not sure how he didn't think about that when he'd agreed to do this.

He just knows that he has to do something, though he's not sure what.

But any and all ideas of how to protect himself instantly leave his mind, crashing his brain, when he comes back to the apartment the next day to find it sweltering. He looks at the thermostat, thoroughly confused to find the heater set to eighty. He peels off his jacket, recoiling when the humid air sticks to his skin. It's hot. Too hot. Even for early November. It's not that cold outside.

He's about to call out for his roommates when MJ emerges from her room, and he feels like he has to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Her shorts are too short for it being fall. They show too much of her legs for his eyes to not be immediately drawn to them. Her white tank top is tight against her skin, hugging her form in a way that almost makes him jealous. And then, it's almost too much, too dangerous, when he can very clearly tell that she's apparently decided to forgo a bra for the evening.

"Oh, hey Pete!" She says, as if she's not looking like that.

"Hey—hey. Em..." He clears his throat.

Dear God. It's been less than a week. Hold it together.

"Is it..." Peter swallows. "Is it hot in here? The—the heat? Is it—is it on?"

MJ's eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh, yeah. It is," she replies casually. "Is that okay? I was just a little cold."

"So you turn it up to—" Peter stops, craning his neck to look at the thermostat on the wall. "—eighty-two?"

She glances left and right, as if there's nothing wrong with that temperature whatsoever. "Yeah," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her lips tugging into a frown. After a beat, she lets out a faint snort, apparently finding something particularly funny, before turning to the fridge. She opens the freezer, sighing as the cool air hits her face.

Peter doesn't realize he's staring as she reaches in, pulling out a box from the top shelf. When he sees what's in the box, he knows that his doom is near. It's bright, colorful. It's popsicles. He has to leave immediately if he knows what's good for him, if he has any sense of sanity left. She grabs a crinkling wrapper from inside the box, casually whipping it out. She holds one out to him.

"Want one?" She offers.

Peter can only shake his head, swallowing a near-silent, voice-cracking, "Nope."

And it's at this point, as she shuts the freezer door, as she starts peeling the wrapper off the way-too-phallic popsicle, that he knows he should run. It's not safe here.

But he's frozen in place, trying to burn his gaze into the intricacies of the granite countertops, tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm.

He's an idiot, for sure, because he looks up at exactly the wrong time, right as she wraps her lips around the tip of the pop, her eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second.

How can it only be eighty-two in here? 

Thankfully, he gains some sense, tearing himself away from the counter and going over to actually turn down the thermostat. "Is it okay if I—" He coughs. "—Turn this back down?"

"Sure." MJ doesn't stop him. She wets her lips, hiding her satisfied smirk by taking the popsicle deeper into her mouth.

But again, he makes the fatal mistake of looking at her again, because now... well, now she's just messing with him. She has to be.

No one eats a popsicle like that.

When he thinks it can't get worse, she has the fucking audacity to hum as she pushes it further into her mouth. "This is so good," she says, half-way a moan.

Who actually says that about a fucking popsicle?

It's evil, truly it is, because it makes him imagine her swirling her tongue around it inside her mouth, and suddenly, the tightness in his pants gets even more uncomfortable.

He hurries to somewhere else in the kitchen, pouring himself a nice glass of water. It's still too hot in here. MJ sidesteps him easily, still inappropriately eating—sucking off—her popsicle. And he nearly chokes, because as his eyes meet hers again, she takes the damn thing out of her mouth—he thinks he's safe, but oh no—she slips her tongue out, licking a long stripe up the base, swirling it around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.

"What?" She asks—she fucking asks—when he can't look away.

And unsurprisingly, Peter can't speak. Can't even get a single syllable out.

"Is my tongue red?" She asks, sticking said tongue out that was just seconds before all over the popsicle.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Peter spits out, dropping his water in the sink and making a mad dash to the bathroom, not waiting for a response.

A shower is what he needs right now.

A nice, cold shower.

He needs to take a deep breath. Think of not sexy things. Things that don't make his life out to be a bad porno.

Then, he needs to leave. Hide in the forest. Live among the trees, away from temptation, until November is over. Only then can he be at peace.

That's it!

Trees. Nature. Forests. Cold. Snow. MJ in the snow. Kissing MJ in the snow—NO.

NO.

He slams the bathroom door, leaning back against it. He heaves out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face in frustration. How he can possibly survive the rest of the month, he has no idea.

MJ has to be messing with him, right? There’s absolutely no way in hell she’s not doing this on purpose. And why? Why is she torturing him like this? What has Peter ever done in his life to deserve this torment? It isn’t fair. 

No matter how desperately he wants to take care of the not-so-little problem in his jeans, he holds himself back, clenching every muscle in his body as he switches on a very cold shower. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the image of Michelle—his best friend and roommate—eating a popsicle out of his mind. It has absolutely no right to be there. 

And still, as Peter stands under the stream of freezing water, letting it run down his back and front as he holds himself up with one hand, he can’t help but think that the worst is yet to come. That somehow, someway, MJ would top simulating a blow job on an ice pop. He doesn’t know how she’d do it, but he knows it’s coming. 

He must be ready. 

--

Not to MJ’s surprise, Peter avoids her the rest of the day. He keeps his head down, not daring to even glance up at her as he walks past. Weirdly enough, this is a good sign. It confirms her hypothesis that her actions can have some sort of an effect on him. It helps her to know what to do next. 

And, well…

She’d be lying if she said it weren’t at least a little bit thrilling. 

There’s something deep inside her that finds all of this so interesting, so amusing. She wants to know how far she can go, how hard she can push before he cracks under the pressure. And the fact that it’s her that has all this power over him—it’s certainly a revelation. 

But still, even if this is “fun,” she can be professional about this. She would never let it get “too far,” whatever that would be. No, the goal here isn’t to seduce her way into Peter’s pants, but to seduce him—innocently—enough that he just does it to himself. 

Her next plan might be a little more unfair, a little more direct, and perhaps a little more daring than the last one. 

And—she should add—much more difficult than she had anticipated. 

For one, she just can’t seem to get the right angle, holding her phone above her body, making sure to get both the underside of her breasts—a tasteful amount of boob, thank you very much—and the same cheap, pretty pink undies she bought from Target. It’s awkward, tilting and twisting her phone, her thumb just barely reaching the shutter button. The first few shots aren’t anything to be particularly proud of. Too blurry, her arm cramping up from holding the camera up so long. This isn’t something she’s really done before, given she’s never seen the appeal. Why send pics when you could just, you know, show them the real thing? 

But for some reason, it makes her heart climb into her throat, makes her face almost unbearably warm. 

It’s when she changes her positioning on her bed, finding some nice light filtering in from the early evening sun. Golden hour has always proven to be exceptionally kind to her. She finds a decent pose, covering both breasts with her forearm, arching her back, making sure to get that perfect “booty tooch” that would make Tyra proud. She breathes out in an attempt to cool her heated nerves, parting her lips in a way that’s sure to incite some kind of reaction. 

Click. 

And then, she’s got the shot. 

Okay, technically it’s not a nude, but there’s something about the idea of sending this picture to Peter of all people that gets her stomach twisting in knots. 

And as her hand hovers over the send button, her heart hammers in her chest, hesitation holding her still. She takes her bottom lip in her teeth, beginning to wonder if this is the best idea. Her plan had been to send the picture, play it off as some kind of mistake, and hope that he goes to… take care of himself. Sure, it might get a reaction out of Peter—one big enough that causes him to give up this whole no nut thing—but it almost feels as if she’s crossing some kind of line. 

Miming a blow job on a popsicle was one thing—one that she can’t decide if she’s proud of or not. That was just a performance. It wasn’t something she was doing to Peter. This—sending him a racy picture when he’s literally in the next room—is a direct interference. 

Plus, there’s no telling what this would do to their friendship. It could ruin everything. Catastrophically. 

Awkward would be an understatement. 

She puts her phone face down on the mattress, avoiding the picture all together, before getting up and pulling on one of her comfy robes. 

God, all of this was a terrible idea. 

Wallowing in her own self-pity and regret, she flops back down onto the bed, grabbing her phone with the intention of deleting the picture once and for all. It’s still there in the text conversation, just waiting to be sent. She scoffs, shaking her head at herself, only for her heart to stop in her chest when—in her frazzled state—she hits “send” instead of that little “x.”

“SHIT.” 

No no no no no NONONONONO.

She drops her phone immediately, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she scrambles for her bedroom door, nearly tripping over her rug in the process. 

Peter’s sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware, when his phone pings. And to Michelle’s utter horror, he picks it up. 

“NO!” MJ shouts, jumping on top of him. It’s a futile attempt really, seeing as her best friend—she stupidly forgets—is an actual superhero. 

Peter yelps as she pushes him down into the couch, tumbling onto the floor, holding his phone away from her grabby hands as she straddles his hips. “What the fuck—” And while he could push her off of him with a ridiculous amount of ease, he stills, becoming suddenly aware of their precarious position. 

“Gimme your phone!” Her voice comes out in a half-plea, half-demand. All panic. 

Peter still holds it away from her, his own brand of panic flashing across his features when his other hand naturally falls at her hip. He yanks it away, instead holding her back by the shoulder. “Why?”

It’s also then that he sees what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing. 

And in his distraction, Michelle snatches his phone, instinctively throwing it across the room. She winces apologetically when he looks up at her, jaw dropped and brow wrinkled. 

“What the hell, MJ—”

“—I’m sorry! I panicked!”

“Why?!”

“I—”

It’s then, as they both stare at each other in shock, that they both realize the position they’re in—but neither of them seem to be able to move away, frozen solid on the living room floor. 

Peter can feel his heart beating relentlessly in his ears, his throat suddenly going dry when he notices how tightly Michelle’s thighs are holding him in place. Another problem starts to arise when he sees how her cotton robe is pooled around their aligned hips, his eyes catching the sliver of shiny pink underwear when one side falls back. “What—” He clears his throat, his voice coming out uncharacteristically breathy. “—What was on my… my phone?”

“Uh—” She presses her lips together. “A picture.”

Peter’s gaze drifts lower for a split second, dipping to the exposed dip in her chest, drawn to the rise and fall with each breath. “Of?” 

“Me?”

“You?”

MJ breathes out a laugh, glancing down. “I, uh—accidentally sent… You a picture. Well—I meant to send it to you, not that like, it wasn’t for you, but I kinda decided not to send it… and then… I did. Accidentally.” 

And even though he’s trying everything in his power to keep his eyes on her face, he can’t help the way they seem to travel lower and lower with each second. He’s confused at first, but then, it hits him, like a train, what exactly that picture was. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The air crackles between them, static in their ears. Michelle finds her own gaze drifting lower, lingering on his parted lips, a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach. She shifts slightly, her breath catching as she suddenly feels the hardness pressing into the inside of her thigh. Peter stares up at her, something in his eyes bringing her closer, inch by inch. The warmth and weight of both of his hands tentatively, slowly moving to her waist causes something to ignite within her, and in a split-second, her lips are on his. 

Michelle’s surprised to find herself… well—surprised—at how this kiss doesn’t immediately turn into an all tongue-and-teeth, ripping-eachother’s-clothes-off kiss. It’s sweet. Slow and tender—as if the two of them are savoring it. Nothing like she’d expected Peter to be capable of. Nothing like how he’d painted himself to be from all of his hook-up stories. 

And she’s not entirely sure who’s “fault” it is when it turns into more. 

It could be the way she’s subtly grinding her hips against his, her body alight with the friction. 

It could be how his tongue swipes over her bottom lip, innocently at first. 

It could be her soft, breathy whines as one of his hands moves lower to cup her ass, pulling her closer, the new angle against his hardness bringing an indescribable feeling. 

And then again, it could be her robe starting to fall off her shoulders—she’s not sure who starts that, but all of a sudden she’s feeling cool air on her skin. 

She almost smiles into the kiss, thinking about how easily and quickly this “chaste” kiss had shifted. 

And it’s immediately after that thought that she snaps out of it. 

“Wait!” She says, pulling back and sitting up—but still staying in Peter’s lap. Before this can go any further, she has to tell him the truth. He has to be able to… back out of it. 

Where this sudden sense of generosity’s come from, she has no idea. 

He follows, sitting up with her, brows creasing, his expression a concoction of worry and panic. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry—”

“No!” She puts a hand on his shoulder after fixing her robe. Her thumb smooths over the fabric of his shirt. “No. It’s… fine. I just…” Surprisingly, she finds herself chuckling, unable to bite back her smile as he looks at her with concern. 

“What is it, Em?” 

It’s the nickname for her nickname that does it for her. Truly. 

“You good?” He asks, wincing as she shifts in his lap again. 

“Yeah, uh—” She coughs, trying unsuccessfully to hide the way her lips are twitching violently as she fights her smile. It takes her more than a few moments, the deep breaths she’s taking not doing all that much to help mask the humor in her tone. “—I know about No Nut November.” 

At first, Peter’s confused, staring back at her with furrowed brows, his mouth in a cute little ‘o’. He tries to play dumb, maybe thinking that he can get away with one final attempt to save his pride—letting out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Yeah, my new diet. Crazy, huh?”

She blinks, blankly staring at him. “Peter.” There’s some amusement there, especially as she pointedly glances down to their current position. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. 

“Ned told me.”

Peter curses, wincing. “Damn it, Ned.”

“Yeah…” In a strange, very unwelcome bout of insecurity, Michelle removes her hands from Peter’s shoulders, twiddling her fingers together in front of her. “I made him tell me… and I kinda… also made him let me in on the bet.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “What?!”

“We kinda made our own bet that like… If you lasted less than a week, I would get all the money.”

“You didn’t think I’d last a week?” Peter almost takes offense at that, even if there’s merit to her prediction. “Damn, MJ…”

“I mean… I also wanted to win. So… I kinda tried—or I guess have been trying… to sabotage you?” 

At that, his jaw drops. “No! Wait—You—What? I—” He stammers like that, his brain short-circuiting as she still watches from his lap. “That was—what? The porn? On my laptop?”

MJ nods, grimacing. 

“The… underwear? Just in the couch?” 

“Yeah…”

“And you were gonna…” He looks down at her, the cotton robe still just barely tied around her—the journey his eyes make also coinciding with his mouth going dry once again. “...That picture you took…?”

She nods again, looking down at her hands. 

“Putting your head on my lap?!” He asks, as if he of all people is scandalized. 

“That wasn’t part of the plan. That was kinda what helped me figure out that… I could just… do it myself.” 

“Oh my God,” he puts a hand on his face. “The popsicle. The fucking popsicle.”

“That was probably my best work, honestly.”

“That was so cruel.” 

And when he laughs, his eyes crinkling, she starts to see that maybe this will all be okay, and a sense of relief fills her chest. “Yeah, sorry. I also had Felicia help.” 

“You put her up to that?!” 

“Nah. She offered. I felt kinda weird about it—” She says the last part without realizing it, immediately shutting her mouth. 

“That’s why I said no,” Peter replies. 

It’s Michelle’s turn to be surprised. “What? Really? I thought it was just ‘cause you were so dedicated to this whole no nut thing.”

“I mean, yeah, I was but—” He laughs, reaching a hand up to smooth the curls at the base of his neck. “—I just… felt weird about it. With you guys being friends and all.” 

The way MJ’s heart flutters is strange, but not entirely unwelcome. “Why would that be weird?”

“Why did you think it’d be weird?” He throws back, his lips twisting into a curious grin. 

And not for the first time when talking to Peter, Michelle feels all knowledge of the English language leave her body. It’s strange, how much confidence she can have while literally dry-humping him on the living room floor, but how scared she can be trying to explain something about how she feels. 

She only shrugs. 

A beat passes, and still, Michelle can’t bring herself to move. 

“So…” Peter draws out after another moment. “All that—” he clears his throat. “—stuff… that was just to win that bet?” 

“Well, I mean—yeah?” The look of hurt on his face makes her heart lurch in her chest. She’s quick to correct herself. “But—I… I think maybe that could be a good thing.” 

His brows raise in careful curiosity, though he still seems apprehensive. “A good thing?” He asks slowly. 

Michelle nods, swallowing. “Uh—Yeah. ‘Cause… If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have figured out that—um… I might—” It’s weird, how frustrating it is that she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say, that her brain seems to have completely abandoned her in her greatest, most dire time of need. And this shouldn’t be this hard. She’s an adult. She’s in her third year of college. 

Confessing the feelings that you’ve just realized you have for your best friend since high school should be easy right?

Right?

And she’s only just figured this out. In the last five seconds. That all these years of weird feelings, long glances, warm faces has actually lead to something, they’ve actually meant something other than a weird stomach bug or whatever. 

All it took was attempted sabotage during No Nut November for her to realize that. 

The power it has. 

“MJ?”

His voice grabs her attention; the caution in his tone snapping her gaze to his. And for a moment, she just looks at him, mouth hanging open as she tries to say something, anything. But still, she can’t.

So, she does the next best thing. 

She kisses him—again—trying her best to put all of the words she can’t seem to figure out into it. And although he kisses her back—easily—he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, because he pulls away not ten seconds later. 

“Listen—MJ—” Peter stammers, running a jittery hand through his hair as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “—I don’t think I can do—” He gestures between the two of them. “—This… if it’s just… casual.” 

So, he really didn’t get it, and now, she’s feeling the impatience creeping up her neck. 

“I really like you, MJ,” he confesses, and for a moment, she’s not sure if she heard him right, or if she heard him speak at all. Her brain must be playing some nasty, cold-hearted trick on her, because Peter—perpetually single and ready to mingle Peter—just said that he liked her. 

God, she feels like she’s a teenager again. It feels so high school, the amount of butterflies in her stomach hearing him say that. 

Even more so when she finds herself responding automatically, “I really like you, too.”

“Cool,” he says lamely, his breathless chuckle making her heart flutter in her chest. 

He doesn’t waste another second before he tugs her back to him, capturing her lips to his, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of her jaw. She tilts her head, letting out a gentle sigh as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against her lips before slipping into her mouth. The weight of his other hand on her waist is comforting in a way, heavy and solid as he holds her in place. 

Truly, she hadn’t expected any of her plans from earlier in the week to come to this. 

Instinctively, her hand snakes down to his hips, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt and dragging across his stomach, smiling into the kiss as his muscles twitch underneath her touch. It’s then, as her hand dips even lower, palming him over his sweats that he seems to snap out of whatever trance she put him in. 

He grabs her wrist—gently, of course—pulling it away and breaking the kiss. 

His chest is heaving with each breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an apologetic smile. “I—I can’t—the… the bet.”

And it dawns on Michelle then, that she’s been cockblocked by No Nut November. 

Even though she tries to appear understanding, he must be able to see the disappointment in the twist of her lips, the way she nods quietly. 

“But—” He starts, pressing his mouth together into a thin line. He nudges her, pointing his finger as he’s hit with a revelation, talking slowly. “—You’re not… doing… No Nut November…”

MJ lets out a surprised laugh, shifting in his lap as her face warms even more. A beat passes as she stares at him, giving him a chance to take it back. “Are you sure?” She finally asks.

Peter nods quickly, insistently. He’s got this. Clearly. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, she’s not sure how much of that she actually believes. 

Probably none of it. 

But, that doesn’t mean she’s turning down the offer. 

“Okay…” She trails off, unable to bite back her grin at the brief self-doubt that flashes across his features. “What do you—what do you wanna do?” She asks, her face burning, suddenly finding herself the slightest bit tongue tied. It takes everything in her to at least look calm and not like she’s about a half-second away from just jumping his bones. 

Or, one in particular. 

Peter clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. “Uh—” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean… Whatever you’re comfortable with? I’m cool with whatever you want.”

He’s cool. Okay. Yeah. 

She shifts her weight again, biting back a smirk when he inhales sharply as she brushes against the hardness in his gray sweats. “Sorry.” Feeling merciful, Michelle climbs off of his lap, sitting back against the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “Any ideas?” 

Though, Peter can’t seem to tell if he’s happy with this new development or not—as hard as it was having her sitting on him. “Um—” And his expression tells her that he does have one. “I could…” He coughs again. “I could go down on you?”

It’s funny, how casually he says it, like he’s offering to give her a ride to the airport, or something. But it still makes her ears ring. 

“Yeah,” she says, nodding slowly. She swallows. “That sounds—that sounds good.”

“We should probably—” He gestures to his bedroom door, huffing out a laugh. “—not do this out here.” 

“Probably,” she snorts. 

The speed at which he scrambles to stand and runs to his bedroom, compared to her somewhat-leisurely pace, makes her let out the most undignified laugh. 

A silence falls between them as he shuts the door, the click echoing. MJ takes a moment to glance around his room—literally a single moment, because in the next he’s wrapping his arm around her waist, yanking her to him and crashing his lips to hers. His hands are greedy, twisting handfuls of the soft fabric of her robe, finding purchase on her ass and grinding her against his hardness. 

MJ revels in the groan he lets out as she melts into him, her hands winding themselves in his soft curls, twisting and tugging ever so slightly. 

He guides her to the bed, pausing to gently lay her back on the mattress before crawling over her, his mouth finding itself on the underside of her jaw, his lips and tongue dragging along the column of her throat. With one hand, he prises her legs apart, happily settling between them while his other fumbles with the tie of her robe. 

His eyes meet hers first, silently asking for permission, before pulling the thick string back. His eyes darken as Michelle helps him slip the robe back, leaving her almost completely bare underneath him. He unconsciously wets his lips as his eyes hungrily rake over the expanse of her body—he feels as if the only accurate description for how he feels at this moment being a deer caught in really well-defined headlights. 

She thinks for a moment that he’s just going to do this—stare at her—instead of, well, what he said he’d do. 

But he doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. He lurches forward, his mouth hot on her neck, trailing open-mouthed, wet kisses down to her collarbone, her sternum, the swell of her right breast. 

She bites back a gasp as he takes her nipple into his mouth, her back arching off the bed as his tongue swirls around it, palming the other with his hand. It’s a sight to see for sure, Peter’s head on her chest, his curls tickling her skin.

His trail continues, back to the dip in her chest, lower and lower, his kisses hot on her stomach, down to her hips, the lace trim of her thong.

Peter sits back on his heels, breathless as he looks down at her. “Fuck—” He curses, drawn to the damp patch in the middle of the soft faux-satin, how it clings to her. 

He doesn’t give it another second, hooking his thumbs around the lace and roughly pulling them off of her legs. 

He’s diving his head down in the next instant, his lips leaving scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. He thinks that he can maybe tease her, trying to slow his pace as he gets closer and closer to where she wants him to be. 

(Okay, it’s where he wants to be, too.)

He pulls back a little, trying not to smile too much at the disappointed edge in her shuddering sigh. As much as his mouth waters with her so close to him, he controls himself. Kind of. To a degree. He takes a finger, experimentally teasing her entrance, his sweats—somehow—tightening at Michelle’s quiet gasp as he touches her. There, he collects her wetness, coating his finger in her arousal, swirling it over her cunt, around her clit. And he sits there, marveling at how impossibly wet she is already. 

Though, it’s not long, probably less than a minute, before his impatience kicks in again. 

He thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t eat her out. 

Dramatic? Maybe. 

Valid?

Who’s to say?

But he can’t help himself, and any thought about slowing down is thrown out the window as he licks a long stripe up her center, his eyes rolling back as he tastes her. He dives right back in, his tongue circling her entrance, lapping her up. 

And Michelle can’t help but notice how at home he looks between her legs, how in his element he is as he moves to start sucking on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue as he teases her with two fingers. 

His eyes meet hers and she wonders how on earth she’s going to survive this, especially when those two fingers push into her, curling as he pumps them in and out. 

“Shit—Peter!” She cries, her back fully lifting off the mattress as he picks up his pace, moaning against her. 

Clearly he’s enjoying this, too. 

A choked gasp slips from her lips when he slows suddenly, his eyes locking with hers again before picking back up even harder and faster than before. She reaches down, tangling her hand in his messy curls, holding him in just that right spot. Her thighs try to close on him, trapping him in as the coil in her tightens, but his free hand grips her, holding her in place. And she can’t fight the way her hips buck against him as she begins to grind herself against his face. 

It builds and builds, teetering just on that beautiful edge, when Peter adds a third finger—and then, she’s seeing stars, her brain going fuzzy as all of her muscles tense, electricity shooting from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She comes with a strangled moan, panting as her body’s overcome with pleasure. 

Peter’s movements slow, and he pulls off of her sensitive clit, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, before taking each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

MJ sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watches him—and at that moment, her eyes drawn to the hard line in his sweats, she curses No Nut November again, because honestly, she’s never wanted him to fuck her more, never been so angry at a single month.

He seems to be in the same fire, his expression wrought with the inner turmoil he feels. His eyes screw shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ignore how painfully hard he is, how he can feel his dick pulsing already, and how stupidly hot and beautiful MJ is. 

His decision’s made before he opens his eyes. 

Michelle lets out a surprised yelp as he leaps on top of her, his mouth on hers before she can start laughing. Somehow, his hands are greedier as they explore her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts, her waist, her hips, down to her ass. 

None of that’s to say that she’s complaining, though. Peter just ate her out like it was his full-time job, like he was stopping crime as Spider-Man. As far as she’s concerned, he can do whatever he wants right now. 

It’s when he starts to take his sweats—and boxers—off that she gets confused, if not a little too hopeful. 

“What about the bet?” She asks breathlessly when he pulls back.

He holds her gaze, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Fuck the bet.”

If there’s a god, Michelle wants to thank her right now. 

Peter’s hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin as he wraps them around his waist. He takes his dick in his hand, pumping a few times, swiping it down her center, tapping her clit, before Michelle suddenly remembers to use their one collective brain cell. 

“Wait—” she gasps. “Condom.”

Peter curses under his breath, hanging his head for a moment, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” 

If she thought he was fast running to the bedroom, watching him scramble through his bedside drawers looking for a rubber is something else. A giggle—a fucking giggle—bubbles up out of her at his relief when he finds one. 

He rolls it on quickly, expertly, days of No Nut November clearly not slowing him down. 

He’s back on her in the next second, eager as he gathers her arousal and coating himself with it. 

They both let out a string of curses as he pushes into her—finally. Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath as he feels how warm and snug she is around him, almost unable to believe how well she fits him. MJ grips his shoulder, face burning as he gives her a moment to adjust, a moment to take all of him in. 

When he starts to move, they both wonder again why they hadn’t been doing this in the first place. 

As with everything else, Peter doesn’t waste their time. Even though he revels in how fucking amazing she feels around him, how he can’t even remember the last time this felt so good, so right, he picks up a steady pace, fucking into her like it’s the last chance he’ll get. He hikes her leg higher on his waist, the new, deeper angle causing Michelle to arch her back, a wet moan ripping through her. 

“Peter—” She chants his name over and over, unable to say anything else as his hips snap into hers. “Fuck—”

“God, MJ, you’re so fucking good,” his voice is almost a growl, lower and more desperate than he’s ever sounded. “Taking me so well.”

Michelle should’ve guessed he was one for dirty talk, though she can’t say she’s surprised. 

Or that she minds. 

Peter bites back a groan, stilling momentarily as she clenches around him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He’s already so close, teetering just on the edge, but he’s filled with a sense of determination at the sting of her nails digging into his shoulders. 

His hand trails down her stomach, his thumb pressing her clit, scrubbing furiously as he pumps in and out of her. She squeezes him again, head thrown back, slack-jawed as he tilts her hips even further, the new angle causing a string of curses to spill from her lips. Her muscles spasm around him as she comes for a second time, her eyes screwed shut as she clings to him for dear life. His own orgasm crashes over him, and he moans loudly into her skin, holding her to him , fingers digging into her hips as he comes undone. 

It’s something MJ can’t help but want to see again. And again. 

He flops down on top of her, his head on her chest as he struggles to catch his breath. 

Her hand comes to smooth down his curls at the nape of his neck, and she smiles as he shifts his head to look up at her. 

“God, fuck No Nut November,” He breathes into her skin. 

A light laugh bubbles up out of her. 

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What day is it?” He asks.

“November fifth.” 

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn.” He pulls out of her, standing up to throw the condom away, almost missing the bin in the corner of the room. 

“You made it longer than I thought you would,” Michelle laughs.

Peter flops down next to her, his eyes narrowed, though there’s still a smile on his face. “What?” 

“Well, yeah. I bet Ned that you wouldn’t last a week,” she replies, patting him on the chest as she gets up, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Peter’s eyes widen before he covers them with his hands. “Oh. Shit. Ned.”

He’s still there when she comes back; still naked, too. 

“Ned, doesn’t have to know,” MJ says, falling back into the bed with him. 

Peter peeks out from underneath his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can like, pretend you’re still doing it.”

There’s a crooked grin on Peter’s face as he stares at her—a look that makes her insides gooey and heart fuzzy. 

And she hates how much she doesn’t hate it. 

“And when Betty inevitably breaks Ned,” she shrugs. “We can split the money.”

He shakes his head, amazed and somewhat scandalized. “MJ, you’re a genius.”

Again, she shrugs. 

“So, we can keep doing—” He gestures between them, brows raised. “—And let Ned lose. The money’s ours.”

“Right.”

He lamely sticks his hand out, offering for her to shake on it.

“Deal?” He asks.

She kisses him. “Deal.”

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-12)

Word count: 5.4K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, pining, fluff ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I am so excited to see what you think of this chapter! I haven’t made a secret of the fact that this is one of my absolute favorite chapters. I had a lot of fun writing it <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​. You are a goddess. I love you <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam regretted it the moment he stepped into the bar. The lights were dim, the music was hip and it was too full of people. What was more, a lot of those faces seemed familiar. Maybe he had seen them around the campus?

Sam found a corner booth, away from the bar counter and the pool table. It was isolated and about as quiet as any table was going to get. He drew out his phone and texted Jody.

“I’m here. Where are you?”

Sighing, he locked the screen on his phone. Sam was beyond exhausted. He had stayed up the night, driven for close to twelve hours in total to and fro from LA, and went cut to cut with one of the fiercest attorneys he had ever met. At least, James was out for good. The look on his face at the sight of Sam had been worth everything. Sam had been so scared that he wouldn’t be able to get the kid out. Now that he had, all he wanted to do was fall in bed and not wake up till Sunday. 

Even as that thought took shape, he knew he was lying to himself. More than anything, he wanted to find Y/N and thank her for her help last night, let her know how the hearing went. If someone at Acton Gris had helped him, he would have taken them along for the hearing because the effort deserved it. A part of him had wanted to ask Y/N. She would be allowed, since she was a law student accompanying the attorney, but Sam didn’t think he could handle being in her presence for so long. Besides, she’d had classes in the morning. Either way, she deserved to know the verdict. He had contemplated emailing her, then thought better of it. Maybe he would drop by at the library to see if it was her shift. It was only 12. The library would be open for at least two more hours.

He banished the thought as quickly as it appeared, though, physically shaking his head. He needed to factor in the consideration that she probably didn’t want to keep running into him all the time.

His phone pinged. It was Jody letting him know that Alex was yet to get home from some party of her own and that she would be late, if she came at all. 

Fantastic. Simply fantastic.

He should have just gone to bed. Being in bars at midnight? He was too old for this. It had been Jody’s idea to begin with! She was the one who had made plans for the weekend and was standing him up now.

“Professor Winchester?”

Sam groaned internally before seeing who had called him. It was a glimmeringly clad freshman from his class. 

Could the evening get any worse? He had to run into his students.

“Ohmygosh! I can’t believe you’re here,” gushed the girl. Sam vaguely remembered that her name was Staten.

The other girl whose name Sam didn’t know at all nodded vigorously. “You’re so cool!”

Both of them were bright eyed and obviously tipsy. That was a combination for trouble if Sam had ever seen one. 

He got up. “Nice to see you ladies,” he said sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to step out for just a second. Y’all have fun.”

“Mr. Winchester,” one of them called, but Sam was out the back door. Few years of teaching had taught him enough in that department. During his early days, years ago, when he first started as a visiting faculty, he would insist that the class call him by his first name. He had been ignorant about how it came across and only after a couple of students had made a pass at him had he grown wary and stuck to being addressed by his last name. It never got less weird, having people address him as ‘Mr. Winchester,’ but he was used to it now.

Stepping outside, Sam breathed in the cold air, wondering again what the hell he was doing here.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Jody.

She picked up on the second ring. “I’m so sorry, Sam!” She apologised profusely. “Alex’s tyre gave out and she’s stranded a couple miles out.”

“Shit. Do you want me to pick her up?”

“No, it’s alright,” she reassured. “She’ll feel awful about you driving out to get her. I’m heading out now. Please just wait a little longer. I feel horrible about keeping you waiting, especially since it was my idea.”

He looked at the watch. It was quarter past twelve. “Jody…” he sighed.

“Okay, wait for just fifteen more minutes,” she bargained. “If I’m not there by then, you can go home and I’ll owe you drinks for the rest of the year.”

“Rest of your life, and we have a deal,” Sam smiled despite himself. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” She said, clearly amused. “That’s how you become a good lawyer. Okay, Fine.”

Sam laughed.

“You know I love you, Winchester.”

“I know you do!”

Sam put the phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t have known what to do with his life if Jody hadn’t stepped in and taught him how to look after another person who was solely dependent on him. She was the best friend and mentor he could have asked for.

He slid back inside the bar, determined to avoid any and each student he saw. Especially the drunk ones. Luck was on his side. The whole freshman gang had moved to the pool table, removed from the main area. This late he would have expected the crowd to thin out, but hoards of people were on the dance floor moving their bodies to the rhythm of the song. Taking advantage of the crowd, Sam went over to the bar counter.

“Jack. Neat!” He asked the woman behind the counter. She had long dark hair and a mischievous smile.

“Coming right up, handsome!” She winked.

Sam smiled awkwardly as she slid the glass.

“Hey, Mister! Repeat this one!”

Sam’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. It was loud and bossy and Y/N’s.

“Y/N?” The bartender in front of him squinted at the girl two benches from him, clearly surprised.

Sam would have moved sooner, but he was awestruck at the sight of her. Y/N was wearing a silky, satiny top that was cut low and clung to her body like a second skin over tight jeans and heeled boots. Her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders like a nymph’s. Sam’s throat went dry.

The bartender rushed over to her. “Christ, Y/N!” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

Y/N looked at her with wide, surprised eyes. “Pam! OH MY GOD, PAM! It’s you! 

“Yes, I work here,” the bartender, whose name was apparently Pam, said. “Rob, how much has she had to drink?”

The guy shrugged. “One vodka, three tequillas. I don’t know about before.”

“Y/N?” Pam patted Y/N’s face. “Are you by yourself?”

“Kinda!” Y/N giggled, tossing her hair back in a smooth flip. Sam’s heartbeat spiked at the sight. He absolutely couldn’t wrench his eyes away.

Y/N bent over the counter, then jerked her thumb at the freshman gang and whispered conspiratorially. “I’m with those guys over there, but I don’t think they care if I wander off. Can I tell you a secret? Most of them are douchebags anyway.”

“Rob!” Pam barked. “Do we have a standby? Rinny? Or just anyone else?”

“It’s just us tonight.”

“Well, fuck!” Pam swore.

“Y/N, honey,” she tried to get Y/N to listen to her, but Y/N was already trying to sit up on the bar, blowing kisses at Pam. “You’re the best, Pam. Just the absolute best and I love how much you love my cookies.”

“Everyone loves your cookies, honey, but you need to get down.”

“Okay… Okay,” Y/N winked. She slipped as she tried to get down from the counter. Reflexively Sam moved, catching her before she crashed to the ground.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he said in a low voice only to her and she looked up at him with wide confused eyes. 

“Hey, get your hands off of her, Mister.” Pam hissed, looking scarily angry. “I said, let go of her. Right now.”

Sam did so immediately, but Y/N didn’t let go of his shirt. “I know her,” he tried to explain to Pam, who looked like she was on the verge of calling the bouncers.

“Yeah, that’s right, you know her,” Pam grimaced. “Very believable.”

“I swear, I know her,” Sam said, wildly trying to explain. “Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N. She’s a law student at the university. First year, hails from Kansas and feels insanely cold.” Sam started spewing random facts he could think of. “Her favourite book is To kill a mockingbird. She bakes amazing muffins-”

She likes her coffee with very little milk, is scared of ducks and has a birthmark in the middle of her lower back. She likes listening to classical music and waking up early…

Meanwhile, Y/N was still looking at him in wonderment, shushing herself.

“How do you know all that about her?” Pam looked at him with suspicion and mingled curiosity.

“I’m her-” it hurt to say- “ her friend.”

She still didn’t look completely convinced.

“Y/N?” Pam asked the girl in Sam’s arms. “You know this man?”

Don’t be that far gone, Sam prayed internally. Please don’t be that far gone.

“Pfftt,” Y/N scoffed, with such force that she lost her footing again. “It’s Sam! I’d sooner forget myself than not know him! What sort of dumb question is this?”

Sam.

She had said his name. It had caressed her lips. Was it even possible to be jealous of your own name?

Pam  raised her eyebrows.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t leave my shift to drop her home and no one I can call will be up this late. Y/N clearly knows you. Do you think you can drop her home?”

“I-I don’t know where she stays!”

Pam quickly wrote down an address. “It’s just a couple blocks away. I’m going to call her cell in a while, so you better not try anything funny.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too terrified at the prospect of being left alone with Y/N. He glanced around to see a couple of looks coming their way.

“Yeah, I’ll take her,” he said finally. “The hangover will hit her hard in a while, it’s better that she’s home then. Trust me, I know.”

Pam took one look from his face to Y/N wrapped around his torso. “Thanks, man.”

He nodded and then slowly guided Y/N out. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“You know where I live?” She asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I do now.” Fortunately or unfortunately it was right next to Sam’s street. 

He adjusted her so that she was tucked under his side. Her fingers were still boldly clutching at his undershirt, sending shocks of sensation throughout his body. 

“This way, c’mon,” He guided her forward.

“Stop pushing me. I. Can’t. Walk. Any. Faster!” She whined. “These shoes suck.”

“Okay, let’s just sit for a while.” He slowly steered her to a bench on the street. It wasn’t right outside the bar, hence, out of clear view. Sam lowered her onto the bench and she promptly pulled her feet up, trying to slide the zipper on her shoes. They honestly looked like a death trap of sorts. The zipper stuck out adamantly as she yanked at it with all her might.

Hands trembling, he caught hold of hers. “Wait. Let me.”

Slowly, with a steadier hand, Sam dragged down the zippers on both her shoes- carefully, to not touch her skin- freeing her feet. She drew into herself, massaging the reddened skin on the arch and the back of her heel. 

“Stupid Meg,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t have let her put me in these.” 

She massaged her toes. “It hurts.”

“Will you let me take a look at it?” He asked hesitantly. Y/N twisted her body and put both her feet straight into his lap. 

“Here! Look all you want.”

Her hair was fluttering lightly in the wind and despite the chill, she wasn’t reaching for the leather jacket. Looking at her was like looking at the sun. He wanted to, but couldn’t, because it hurt at the same time. The satin of her blouse was kissing her soft skin in all the right places.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Y/N teased collusively. She scooted closer, almost sitting completely in his lap now. “Can I tell you a secret? I think about it, too.”

Sam pushed her away lightly and God it hurt to do it, but she wasn’t in her senses right now. Sober, she wouldn’t have wanted any of this.

“We should get you home!” He said in a tight voice.

“No!” She was adamant. “Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

Oh the irony. “You were the one who left me, Y/N.” 

Y/N not having heard a word of it was scooting closer to him again. She laid her head on his shoulder, and snaked her arms around his waist. Sam stilled, not even daring to breathe.

“Let’s just stay here forever. You and me.” She laughed all of a sudden. “This is literally the best dream I’ve ever had. I can actually feel you.” She hugged him tighter to prove her point. “See?”

“Is this what your dreams are made up of?” 

“The good ones, yeah,” she sighed tiredly. “But mostly they’re just bad and I’m cold and there’s so much water, Sam. There was so much water.”

Suddenly she started shivering and Sam pulled the jacket over her shoulders.

She looked up with tears in her eyes. “Sam, the water! And there’s so much glass. It hurts.”

A deep pain and grief that he hadn’t felt in years threatened to swallow Sam whole. “Oh, baby,” he said, at last throwing his arms around her. “It’s not real. It happened a long time ago.”

“I can’t breathe. There’s too much water.” Her words were slow and slurred. Despite that, the picture she painted was horrifying.

The memories all flashed before his eyes like it had happened yesterday. But he refused to go under. Not now.

Sam allowed himself to comfort her and be comforted by her. In this one thing, they were together. He held her as close as he had dreamed for years, yet not truly believing that this was actually happening. She smelled just the same, and the way her body curved into his hadn’t changed at all.

Sam held her like that for an immeasurable time. It felt both like an eternity and mere seconds all at once. A crazed traveller wouldn’t be more desperate for an Oasis than Sam felt for her touch. And knowing that this would end soon, that these were stolen moments made it heaven and hell at the same time.

“Y/N,” he tried again. “We need to get you home.” I need to get you home.

She didn’t reply.

“Are you asleep?”

“Yes!” She muttered and in spite everything Sam had to stifle a laugh. 

She had no footwear on, after getting herself out of those insane shoes. Sam removed his flip flops and slid them under her feet. They were way too big, but it was better than nothing. 

“Up you come.” He hoisted her slowly to her feet.

“Whoa!” She said, “everything is spinning so fast.”

“Just hold on to me. The spinning will go away.” He guided her slowly. “This way now.”

Her grasp on his shoulder slipped, pulling his shirt down with him.

“Oooohhh fancy,” she snickered, trying to touch the thin chain around his neck.

Sam fixed his shirt with the other hand so it wasn’t visible. She didn’t need to know.

It must look absurd, the two of them walking down the street. Sam, barefoot, carrying a pair of her heels in one hand and holding her by the waist with the other. Meanwhile, Y/N was humming lightly to herself, giggling at silly things, slipping and sliding in his flip flops.

At long last, they reached the address that Pam had given. Sam knew the building, he walked past it everyday to get home. The building had a solid, high compound wall, covered in vines. Keeping a tight hold on Y/N, he pushed the wrought iron gate. It creaked as it opened, leaving Sam staring at a beautiful front yard. There was curving shrubbery around the small circular garden and a mermaid shaped fountain flowing water in a circular basin with seating around it.

“Hahahaaa Judgy Judy isn’t too pleased with us,” Y/N told him sagely. “She hates people who drink even more than people who turn up late.”

“Why did you drink anyway?” He asked. “You don’t even like doing it.”

Y/N broke off, stumbling into the path. She glared at him. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to go out on dates with other people but it’s not okay for me to drink?”

That’s what she thought? That he had been in the bar for a date? Was that why she had drank?

Sam’s mind was reeling. If what she was saying was true, it meant that it mattered to her what Sam did or didn’t do with his life. Unless she still cared.

“You really think I would do that?” Abruptly, he was angry. If she cared enough to be mad with him, why had she left him to begin with?

Y/N had already moved on from the conversation. She was staring up at the mermaid’s face.

“Sam? You remember that time we went to the fair and rode the ferris wheel?”

He did remember. “You fainted immediately after.”

“Yeah, this feels exactly like that…” Y/N staggered on the spot and Sam rushed to catch her. The minute his hands found her arm, she threw up spectacularly on the front of his shirt, retching till there wasn’t anything left. Then, she promptly passed out in his arms.

He stood there for a second, looking about him, but no help was going to arrive at 2 in the night.

This was bad, very very bad. He had hoped to drop her home and then go back to his own place to wallow about how unfair the world was. What was he supposed to do now?

He had no clue if she stayed by herself. He couldn’t just leave her by herself when she was sick.

Slowly, he led her to the seating around the fountain. She laid down on it, groaning lightly.  

Sam removed his shirt, bundled it up and using some of the water from the fountain, wiped the puke from his jeans and Y/N’s feet along with his flip flops. Then he bent down and swooped her in his arms, carrying her inside the building. Getting into the lift and to her apartment was easy enough. Wrestling the key out of the purse and then unlocking the door all the while supporting her wasn’t so much.

It was pretty clear to Sam that there was no one else in the apartment when he entered. All that noise would have brought someone out by now. He barely looked at the living room, before laying Y/N down on the sofa there. There was a kitchenette to the right side. Sam poured a glass of water, added a spoon of sugar and a pinch of salt after looking through the jars. He walked back to where Y/N was curled up on the sofa and coaxed her to drink it.

She made a face, refusing to take a sip.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“No.”

She was so stubborn sometimes. “Please? For me?”

“For you?” Her expression was guileless, it was almost his undoing, but Sam pushed on. “Yes, for me.”

She took the glass from him and downed it in one go, distaste clear on her expression.

The phone started ringing right when she put the glass down. Sam had to fish it from her purse. The caller ID read ‘Pamela Barnes.’

“Here,” Sam handed the phone to Y/N. “It’s for you.”

“Hello!” She sang. “Yeah, yeah… I’m home…”

Sam didn’t hang around for the rest of the conversation. He returned the glass to the kitchen and made more of the Sugar-salt solution in a bottle.

Y/N was idly playing with a lock of her hair.

“Can we go to bed now? Please?” She mumbled drowsily.

“You,” Sam stressed “are going to bed. Which one is your room?”

Sleepily, she pointed towards the door next to the kitchenette. He lifted her once more in his arm, thinking how bizarre all of this was as he walked towards the room. It felt nothing short of euphoric to hold her like this, like he was on some sort of wild once in a lifetime adventure, even if touching her like this used to be normal for him once upon a time. He gently laid her down on the bed. She stretched out on the sheets immediately, a smile on her lips.

He could have stared and stared. Sam decided to take one long look at her, memorising the exact color of her hair, the fullness of her lips and the rhythm of her breaths. Just as he turned to leave, Y/N’s hand shot out to grab the hem of his T-shirt.

“Why? Why did it happen to us?” She said, her face drawn in lines of anguish. “We were good people. You still are. Then, why?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Because life isn’t fair. You of all people should know that by this point. And I’ve hardly been a good person since.” 

“Shhhhh….” She put a finger to her lip. “You’re the best, Sam. You always have been.”

“Then why did you leave me? Why couldn’t you trust me enough to stay? Have enough faith in me to know that I could make it okay for us? I loved you more than anything, Y/N. And you left me anyway.” He knew full well that she wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning, she was barely even listening now. So how did it matter what he said?

“Don’t go,” she moaned. 

“Y/N… you know I can’t stay.”

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

In an odd twisted way, it was the truth. Nothing was right when she wasn’t with him.

“Please, Sam,” she sighed. “Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

He gave in. How could he not? “I promise,” he said finally. “I’ll stay tonight.” 

She smiled contentedly and her breathing evened out soon after.

Slowly, Sam disentangled his t-shirt from his grip.

In the bathroom, he washed his bundled up shirt, cleaning it completely, then used it to wash off whatever was left on his jeans and t-shirt. Thankfully, Y/N’s clothes hadn’t been spoilt and didn’t need any cleaning. The apartment had a beautiful balcony that overlooked the garden below. He hung his shirt on the railing to dry it in the breeze. 

Sam checked on Y/N once more under the guise of placing the water bottle next to her bed. She was splayed wildly now. The straps of her blouse had slid further down her arm, revealing the tops of her breasts. He looked away. As lightly as he could, Sam freed the covers from beneath her and drew them over her, tucking her comfortably underneath them. Then he made his way to the living room sofa, closing Y/N’s bedroom door after her. 

The sofa was much too small to accommodate him, but Sam managed to lie on his back, legs folded and body wedged between the two armrests. After a while of twisting and turning, he rested his head on one armrest and threw his legs over the other, staring at the apartment walls and decorations. Most of it was too delicate, like the filigree on the curtains and the carved screens dividing part of the kitchenette from the rest of the living room. That certainly wasn’t Y/N’s taste. Either it came with the apartment or her room mate had put it there. There were some things, however, that were distinctly Y/N- the flowers and plants in the balcony, the solid wood coffee stand and the classy oven. The little China decorating the kitchen bar must’ve been her grandmothers. Nothing… absolutely nothing in the house proved that he had ever played a part in her life. Sam decidedly curbed the disappointment and bitterness he felt.

So, she had moved on from him. Hadn’t the past month taught him as much? 

A month ago he wouldn’t have believed that he’d end up a room away from a very drunk Y/N. So close, yet so far. He closed his eyes, recalling how it felt to have her arms around his waist, feel the press of her body against his as he lifted her in his arms. He could live out the rest of his life holding onto those memories, even if it never happened again, even if she never remembered it…

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. A girl was standing over him with a ferocious expression.

He sat up groggily, disoriented about his surroundings. Who was this girl?

“I asked who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

Sam groaned, blinking his eyes in the still dark room. “I’m Sam. I helped Y/N home last night.”

“Where’s she? Is she okay?” 

The shift in her tone was sudden, from angry to concerned.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Sam yawned. “She just had too much to drink.”

“And how do you know her?”

“I’m her- “ It physically ached to not say it. “I’m her… friend.”

The girl, who Sam assumed was her roommate, Meg, raised an eyebrow. “Friend, huh? How come she’s never talked about you before?”

Because she doesn’t care anymore.

Suddenly Sam was very tired. “Look, I’ve known her since a long time. We lost touch a while ago. I met her at college.”

Meg didn’t seem very convinced. She harrumphed and crossed her arms.

“I’m going to head out, now that you’re back,” he said, standing up and straightening his back. It was completely screwed. He walked over to the balcony and retrieved his now dried shirt. Meg eyed it dubiously.

“You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”

Again, the irony of someone else being concerned that he of all people would try to harm Y/N twisted his mouth into a bitter smirk.

“Look, mister…” Meg started and Sam put his hands up. He was too exhausted to hold this argument. 

“I just put her to bed. That’s all,” he said. “Heads up, she has terrible hangovers. You might want to keep the bathroom accessible and the Advil ready.”

With that he stalked out of the room. 

It wasn’t a long walk to his home from there, barely even five minutes, but Sam’s head was buzzing with thoughts. Last night everything had been so hurried and he was the only one who could have helped her out. But what now?

He and Y/N had barely started talking. He still didn’t know what was going on in her head. Last night had changed all of that, at least for him. If it had been hard to not think about her before, it was damn well impossible now. She was consuming his every thought, shadowing every emotion. What if she remembered everything she had said last night? What if she’d actually meant those things?

“Don’t go” 

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

“Please, Sam, Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

Each time his name had fallen off her lips, it was like she was resurrecting his long dead heartbeat. He wanted to dare, he wanted to hope and believe that there was some chance.

But what if she didn’t remember anything at all? Sam knew that he would die inside if that happened. It was one thing to not feel hope, and another altogether to kill it with one's own hands. 

His mind was a cacophony of noises and emotions all warring against each other as he reached his house. On the door steps, sat a solitary figure, waiting for him.

“Jody?”

The sky was just starting to lighten. What was she doing here?

He frowned at her, wondering what on earth could have brought her here this early in the morning. She stared back evenly; there was none of the usual warmth in her eyes, instead they were full of distrust and disappointment.

“Jody, is everything okay?” 

“You tell me, Winchester,” she said, coming to stand right next to him, her stature severe.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She spat. “Don’t you think you’ve been acting differently? At first I thought, being by yourself was getting to you.”

“Jody, I seriously don’t understand.”

“Fine I’ll cut to the chase. Where were you last night?”

It was the last thing Sam had expected. He couldn't tell her the truth. Where would he even start with the truth? “I was-”

She raised her hand and Sam flinched at the hostile expression on her face. “Save it, Sam. I know exactly what you were doing last night. I saw you sitting on the bench outside the bar with that girl.”

Sam jerked upright.

“I’ve known you for years, Sam. Years. I taught you everything I knew. I’ve never been prouder of any student I’ve had and this is what you do with all that trust? This is how you abuse your power?”

Her words rang louder than they should have in Sam’s ears. “Jody-”

“Don’t even try to make excuses. At first, when I saw her in your office, I didn’t think anything of it. Sure, she looked close to tears, but a lot of freshmen are always anxious. But then I saw you in the library with her. The way you looked at Y/N? That’s not how a teacher looks at their student!” Jody looked disgusted. “And tonight? Y/N was clearly drunk, for Christ’s sake! How can you possibly justify the way you were holding her?”

“Because she’s my WIFE!” He shouted, breathing hard, feeling the heat coming off of his face. “I married her and I love her!” 

It was beyond cathartic to finally say those words out loud. Up until this point Sam hadn’t realised that since he had seen Y/N in his class, those very words had been strangling him, poisoning him. Now that he had finally said them, the strength in his legs gave away. He sat down on the steps with a thud.

Jody’s face had gone very white. “Sam…”

“Tonight was nothing more than me helping a girl who needed it. Nothing more than that,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly at the wetness on his lashes. “You know I respect you, Jody, but even you don’t get to tell me if I can hold my own wife.”

She sat down next to him, now at a complete loss of words. “Is this the same girl…?”

Sam nodded, unable to form words.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” she said, drawing him close. “I didn’t know. You should have said something.”

“Said what?” He said through a thick throat, angry with himself for showing weakness now when he had held it together for so long. “That my wife who walked out on me years ago because she didn't trust me to save our marriage is suddenly back? As my student after six years? Is that what I should have declared when I didn’t even know if she wanted to see my face? Is that what I should’ve said?”

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry,” Jody ran her hands over his shoulders. “Sorry that you’ve been suffering and sorry that I doubted you at all. You don’t need to say anything now. C’mere.”

Firmly she drew him towards her and threw her arms around his neck. Sam hugged back, closing his eyes tightly so that the tears rolled over into the cotton of her shirt.

“Shhhh…” she said. “It’s going to be alright.”

Sam didn’t know if there was any truth in her words, but he allowed himself to be comforted, allowed himself to draw some warmth from his oldest friend here. Allowed himself to start healing.

**************************  

A/N 2: *Wiggles eyebrows* Who all saw it coming? ;)

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[zirkkun]

I can't sleep so I'm gonna ramble for a minute here about. uh. 2020 i guess lol everyone else is so might as well jump on the bandwagon.

Be aware this is really really fucking long so it's a commitment to read it lmao sorry i just cannot sleep and i guess i had more on my mind about this year than i thought. I also did not proofread this at all. I just started writing and didn't look back lol

This year was... Weird for me. It started out with me feeling my best in January, comfortable and positive as I did my nth playthrough of DBH with friends and finally having enough alts of my boy Alfonse in FEH to have a team of Just him to fight with. (Priorities, right?) February hit, and things were still going good. I met Ray Chase and had him sign a print I did of Roy and Alfonse in some casual outfits for a scrapped au I wrote years ago. (And I gave him one 😊). Hell, like, covid was just coming around when me and my friends went to the con that weekend and a breakout of it hit the city just south of where the con was like a week before, but I was genuinely so excited for it that like I was like "Yeah, if i die, i die. Whatever happens happens." God, at this point, the Alfonse gc I was in was still alive and I still didn't talk to anyone in the group outside of that gc. Lowkey miss it tbh. But oh well. Things move on.

But that con was like... Stressful. I usually have fair amounts of stress at cons, being around so many people, I fear theft, unwanted contact, y'know, the standard; but my friend group was so filled with tension that it was absolutely painful. We'd been split most of the weekend, and if the two groups came together, it was hell, because it just caused unwanted arguments. I felt really bad cause I didn't want them to be upset, yknow? But i also wanted to hang out with my friends all at once. So i swapped between the groups a bit over the weekend. And blew WAY more money than I should have and lowkey it kind of fucked me over for the rest of the year cause I haven't had a job all year outside of, like, a local church job that pays at a rare max of $100 a month ;w;

I'd been struggling in school the previous semester already, about halfway through having just stopped going to classes altogether, yet still somehow managed to pass everything with B's and A's. The next semester rolled around, and I thought at first the distraction and inability to do anything was because of the con, and as it persisted after, I thought it was just post-con depression. But, as it turned out, no, it's just been my biggest relapse of depression since the end of high school, and frankly, it's only gotten worse since. I can't sleep rn because I'm between not wanting to do anything because I have a lack of emotions and motivation and not feeling deserving of sleep lol. I checked out of school on February 28th, however, I was convinced I was merely demotivated by my surroundings -- at this point, I was studying Japanese, and one of my friends at the time was a (although probably unintentionally) complete braggart about how much he was studying and how he was improving... not to mention he was textbook example of "This is an Actual Weeaboo, don't Fucking Do this." (One of many reasons i said friend at the time lol) it was just... So draining being around him, and I had to see him in class every day of the week. I barely scraped together assignments last-minute and never studied under the idea of "What does it matter if I'm not putting in my 100%?" So I checked out, with plans of transferring for the following semester.

Well, then March hit. Y'all know how March went down lmao.

I pretty much locked myself in my room at all times during March, going between Animal Crossing and BOTW (which actually racked up like 200ish hours i think according to the nintendo year in review i had lmao). I started making a bit closer online friends at this point, notably @levitumbling who decided to take me in as his channel designer for YouTube and I've been ever since! But. Of course. My first task? A Sans meme. My payment? One Switch copy of Undertale because he considered it a disgrace that I'd never played the game before.

Now, let me tell you. I was fuckin scared to play this game. I held onto it for weeks between the fear of "My friend bought me this and i should play this" and "I told myself I'd never touch this game with a 20 mile pole because of how much it's been shoved down my throat over the years." So, one day, I don't remember when, early April, I said, fuck it, I'll play it for a little bit, just enough to say "hey i played it for a bit!" and then never go back.

The only thing that stopped me from beating the whole thing in one sitting was it was the crack of dawn when I passed out, extremely tired and extremely frustrated by the fact I couldn't beat Muffet. Yes, I got that far in one sitting I intended to play for 15 minutes tops.

Now. Let me fuckin tell you. About my first playthrough of Undertale. I haven't gone into a game knowing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about it like... I think ever. Usually I know what style of game it is, the genre, the main plot premise. I knew nothing other than the existence of Sans (and, as it turned out, I'd heard some of the soundtrack pieces before, notably Bonetrousle I heard this cover of it in a radio livestream a while back and never really looked it up, but was always excited when the radio looped back around to it being on; and I'd heard Dating Start! because that's Alpharad's go-to sponsorship ost lmao.) But anyway. I was completely in the dark. Do yall mind if i just go through some highlights of my favorite memories? This is supposed to be a summary of the year but I mean, I think this made a big enough impact on me to really like. Discuss it a bit.

I watched the whole opening cutscene, started a new game under my old screenname, "Yoru," since in naming the "Fallen Child," I assumed they were dead. Well, I was a little surprised to just be that child, alive, two seconds later, but whatever, I rolled with it.

I genuinely trusted Flowey right away. Like no shit. He told me run into the "friendliness pellets" and I didn't even fucking question it. And when Toriel came in? And she said to follow her? I straight up was like "Why the hell should I trust you?? That guy just tried to kill me what says you wont?" I followed only because the game made me but i was Wary the whole time. It took me a LONG time to warm up to Toriel.

Now. Let me tell you how stupid I am as well. The game says over and over right, "Don't fight. Spare. Have Mercy when names are Yellow." Well, I took this literally. I didn't understand the Act mechanic most of the time, and when something didn't work I just said, fuck it, and fought them. If their name didn't turn yellow, I just fought them. "They don't want Mercy if their name isn't yellow, right?" After a while, I'd started getting bored of fighting and would just run away, but like, I came to a point where I was like "I have a really low level, I'm really going to regret this later on if I don't grind for a while."

I don't know when I stopped but. I think I was only one or two kills away from a genocide run accidentally my first playthrough, based on how I think I was LV 3 and looking at genocide playthroughs, you're LV 3 or 4 when you fight Toriel. Like. Holy fuck. I can't imagine what I would have thought of this game if that happened lmao.

Speaking of Toriel, still didn't trust her, at all. When we got to Home, and after I did Every Single different phrase she says when you go downstairs before you talk to her reading about snails; I did not Hesitate to ask "cool uh when the fuck can I leave?" When we got to the Ruins exit I was like, ah, here it is. The betrayal from her I was expecting, where she tries to kill me. Well, nothing on the Act menu worked, right? So... I fought and killed her. I didn't really care, actually. I just kept going.

Then meeting Sans and Papyrus happened. I lost my fucking shit at this part, mostly when they were talking, because every time Sans made a pun it would zoom in on him and do a rimshot. The puns were not funny and I was definitely on Pap's side of "oh my GOD shut up." But that fucking zoom in and rimshot was just so fourth wall breaking and unexpected. Fuck, it still gets me. Anyway. Game continues. I again lose my shit at (insane spinning in random directions) "OH MY GOD! IS THAT A HUMAN?" "uh, i think that's a rock." "OH. WAIT! WHAT'S THAT IN FRONT OF THE ROCK?? (IS IT A HUMAN??)" "(yes.)" "OH MY GOD!!!" and still think these two moments in the game are Peak comedy. Oh, and let me tell you, I did not like either of these two at this point. Sans I was like, okay, hes kind of a dumbass in a funny way, but Papyrus is a dumbass in a way that just annoys me. Genuinely the archetype that misses social cues and therefore has miscommunication usually just annoys me to no end. (Mostly for the miscommunication. It's my least favorite trope and makes me unreasonably angry.) But yeah. Wasn't really a fan. But out of everyone so far? Definitely found Sans to be the most tolerable. But that's about all I thought of him lmao.

Getting to Snowdin, with the Papyrus battle, remember how I said I didn't like Papyrus? And yes, this was something I genuinely thought at one point, I genuinely hated Papyrus, imagine that. What a wild world that is. But anyway. You know how his Act menu has the "Flirt" option? I, for no reason, gunned it for the Flirt option, even though I did not want to. Then when he was like "WE'LL GO ON A DATE! LATER!!" i was like yea sure okay lmao. Again, couldn't figure out the Act menu to turn his name yellow, so I fought him, and he was one or two attacks from dying (miraculously) when he ended the battle. I spared him here cause, well, he spared me, it was only fair. Then this guy again is like "ILL BE AT MY HOUSE WHEN YOU WANT TO GO ON THAT DATE!" and i was like haha funny but still turned around to go on the date. Like why? I have no idea. I think I was more like "haha hes probably not gonna be there and its just cause i picked that option and lo and behold there was an actual fucking date. Oh my god. I have never in my life been on a video game date where one party was convinced I was infatuated with them and im here on the other side of the screen like "oh my god make this end i can't stand being around you.???" But still. The date was. Really fucking funny. I wish I could experience it for the first time again like holy shit. There are few playthroughs I did after this where I didn't go on the Pap date, even if I just spedrun through it.

So then you get to Waterfall and Sans is there like "hey wanna go to grillbys" and i was like sure why not so we go there and my choices were fries & ketchup (so i did not get the legendary scene where he chugged a bottle of ketchup, but i sure did my second playthrough, and let me tell you, i was disgusted). But like. This whole experience at grillby's like, the whoopee cushion, him using a comb on his bald ass skull, him just fuckin unapologetically scratching his ass for no reason?? Bro i was like "why the fuck is this guy part of the Tumblr Sexymen™ group ??? He's so ????? Gross???????" and like i still have this question tbh lmao. But like. Okay so he asks you "what do you think of my bro?" And my genuine answer was "uncool" and he was like "hey man sarcasm isnt funny" and can i just mention how like inheritly manipulative sans actually is like fuck he does things like this where he throws your answer the other way a few times and Every time it actually swayed me the other way. Because right here I went. "Oh. Maybe Papyrus is better than I thought." Like holy fuck maybe i should be more aware if something like that can sway my opinion so easily LMAO.

Anyway waterfall i genuinely was very bored of the whole time. I spent like a genuine 20 minutes figuring out the puzzle where you have to talk to a wall and I actually didn't realize you could move the telescope around. What helped me solve it is my friend's advice before I played it. "Inspect everything. Even talk to walls. Trust me." And literally thats how I solved it. But pretty much everything in Waterfall otherwise bored me. I did think it was pretty though, and did enjoy reading the lore, but when it started talking about monster biology my one fear had been realized: oh god, oh fuck. My original species for my own series also has physical Souls and die by turning to dust because they're made entirely of magic. God fuck. My luck, it has to be something popular, so now everyone's gonna think I'm a ripoff. But, at the same time, I do think it helped me understand monster biology (and it helped me come up with the ULR biology) better, because I've put in a lot of thought to existence of a species that exists only by magic and a Soul (which, mine only actually have half a Soul, as a full Soul makes a being immortal, which was also similar to the boss monsters in a way). It definitely made a lot more sense for like, the skeletons n stuff for me, because like my characters are wholly shapeshifters but usually take human form, and while they have "organs" in the places humans would have them, they don't operate. They're just placeholders, because they just live with their Soul. So I've always thought the same with UT monsters, since the skelebros can live without organs, that means so do the rest of the monsters, even if they have animal-like appearances.

Off topic lmao. Back to UT. So, the Undyne fight was kind of the turning point for me. She was pissing me off so much during this whole game and like I was like "if theres another fucking part where I have to run away from her im going to scream." Well, once again, her name wasn't yellow, so I wasn't going to spare her... and, actively, I made the decision to kill her, because I didn't want to deal with her still chasing me later on in the game. It took me a long time to beat her, and when I did, I texted my friend (@cheshiregrinnbuttoneyes ) in excitment like "YES I FINALLY KILLED UNDYNE" and she texted back like "YOU DID WHAT?????" and i was like "i.... Killed Undyne????" she replies, "YOU DONT HAVE TO OMFG WHY" and im like "I DIDN'T HAVE TO?? THERE'S OTHER OPTIONS?????" and shes like "YES OMFG THAT'S LITERALLY THE PREMISE OF THE GAME" and im "WHAT."

So then. I get that call from Papyrus like. "HEY! YOU ME AND UNDYNE SHOULD HANG OUT SOMETIME!"

oh my god the guilt i felt.

alphys on undernet being like "omfg i forgot to watch undyne fight the human. ah ill ask her about it later she never loses <3"

bro. i nearly fuckin cried. i was like. Not to mention I'd gotten the crush question right for Mettaton's quiz in answering Undyne (bc i was like "plz be gay plz be gay") so it fucking cut like a knife what I'd done.

I don't remember when I let myself get passed it. But I do know that the whole story arc between Alphys and Mettaton went way over my head. Like, i know im probs the minority on this, but I adore Alphys, I have since I first met her in game, and like, when Mettaton was like "ALPHYS HAS BEEN LYING TO YOU!" i just went "...nah."

Also, I didnt like mettaton at this point, cause I thought he was being really obnoxious, and then the turn around to betray Alphys really kinda pissed me off.

But like.

Oh my god.

Remember how I said I swapped my opinion on Pap earlier bc of Sans's comment? Yeah that was a pretty fast turnaround, but it still took me a few times.

But the second i saw mettaton ex

I was like

"HIM. HE. HE'S THE ONE I LOVE."

Like, full turnaround from Undyne, I actively refused to kill him. All times I thought he was an asshole? Forgotten. Me thinking he's a selfish prick? Gone. Nada. Nothing. Pure adoration. Suddenly every flaw he had was pushed aside purely from how hot I thought he was. Also, fuckin, im really glad i played this when no one in my house was awake, because I still didn't understand the Act mechanic here, and every time you attack mettaton he has this like moan he does and im like oh my god. stop. omfg.

At the end, too, when there was the calls and everything, when he had his big turnaround, I was just so happy for him I genuinely cried. Also, I had to do his battle probably the most out of everyone's in the game (not including genocide), so when it came around to his battle during the (glitchless) speedruns i did, i was more invested in how fast I could rack up points, cause you need 10k rating points to pass, and I actually did get that before he lost his legs, but apparently he needed to lose those too before you passed lol. Unfortunate.

Anyway after Alphys talked to you and everything, i genuinely went to see if Mettaton was still there, but he wasn't :( so i just went to New Home. I was very ill prepared for the fight against Asgore and the only reason I struggled with it so much was because my only healing items were like. Something that healed like 10 or 12 hp and the snowman piece. I was LV 9 when i finished the game, so like, my HP was pretty high, but i didnt have the G to buy items, so i was pretty much fucked. Yes. I had to eat the snowman to win.

Oh speaking of terrifying shit though. Photoshop flowey? My god. I haven't been afraid of a video game boss so much since I was a little kid. It was like 3 am and i was not prepared for him to just delete my save file and then kill me on repeat, glitching and breaking everything as he pleased. Bruh i was genuinely scared. Like, not even just, "oh yikes :(" or something. Like, crying scared. Lmao im an emotional bitch by nature.

I of course had to restart from the beginning again to get the True Pacifist ending. I was very careful to never touch the Fight button literally ever. And, it actually took me a while to reset, because I hate erasing my original save files, yknow? But, well, as it turned out? While technically New Game+ by naming, resetting doesn't erase everything you did. It wasn't a new file. I was a little confused at first to be honest. Toriel saying things were familiar, remembering things I said, Papyrus and Undyne both recognizing me, like. It was unnerving.

When I got to the end, i had to look up how to get Alphys's date (since my friend told me the way to unlock TP was to go on all the dates, but Alphys's was definitely designed in mind of you turning around from New Home and going back to talk to people rather than a new reset. So after unlocking it, getting through Alphys's date (i still remember being like, verbally, "omg alphys you look so nice??" When she came out with the dress on and then had a thought to myself like... since when do i care about what people look like? since when do i compliment people? At that point, while I didn't consider myself to be a rude person, I definitely wasn't exactly all that concerned about others for anything. Sure, I cared about others' lives, but I tended to be a bit more judgemental internally, and just. Didn't really give a fuck about what people did in the most negative sense possible, unless it involved me. Yet, it rolled off my tongue like it was something id say normally to anyone. I really wonder if this is the true turning point for me this year.)

Getting to the end, with everyone cheering me on. Hoo boy. This was the start of many tears to come. Papyrus's "DO WHAT I WOULD DO! BELIEVE IN YOU!!" sticks with me the most. I wasn't surprised by Flowey's actions, but what fucking threw me for a loop was like. When Flowey was revealed as Asriel, I was genuinely jaw-drop shocked. I was like. Holy fuck. I thought he was dead. What the hell. To this day, though, i still think Hopes and Dreams hits me the hardest out of all the boss battle themes. It doesn't super bother me, bc like, difference in opinion is whatever, but like. Whenever I see Megalovania at the top of someone's ost list for Undertale I'm just... Why? Maybe it's because I'd overheard it meme'd to much before I played the game, but like, i dunno, it's not a bad song, but it's not the most emotional provoking piece for me, so it's pretty far down my list. Hopes and Dreams will still remain my #1.

I really did feel determined during this battle. I really felt a lot of emotion. I felt excited. I felt frightened. I felt ambitious. Asriel's battle is probably still the hardest for me, and yes, I'm counting genocide this time. I can't grasp his magic patterns at all, and I more so played it as a "okay, how much damage can i take? Whats his next move?" As i healed every other turn. It took me a very long time to beat him (though no 11 hours like Sans, this was more like, 2 or 3 max) and when I got to the part with the Lost Souls, most of the characters just said their "we hate you" piece and i was like "nope you're controlled" right.

But then there's Sans's "just give up. i did."

I genuinely had to stop. I set down my controller and just sat for a minute. I'd mentioned before how much I've been struggling with depression for years now, and it's at the worst it's been since high school. Maybe you'd think when I saw that, I was like "sure, maybe I should give up." But... It's really the "i did." that hit me like a rock to the stomach. While I do know a couple other people with depression, the most discussion we have with it is "haha i wanna die" kinda jokes yknow? Nothing really serious. And, well, I've always been the type to lean to fictional characters for support more than real people, since I've just been so disconnected from a lot of friends growing up and was too scared to talk about anything with my family.

So seeing someone else say "just give up. i did." hit me so fucking hard that I just started crying. I had already been in a real sappy mood cause the whole scene was so emotional as it was, even if merely the cliche of friendship will save all, y'know what? Its a good ass fuckin trope and makes me emotional lmao.

So, naturally, I was more hyperaware of Sans's implied depression from here onward. The conversations with everyone post-battle left me crying. God, so did the hug with Asriel. I was just fucking bawling.

Oh god. I didn't even mention. "Despite everything, it's still you." Another line that just hit me and I had to pause.

So admist my crying mess, I was telling my friend I'd beat Undertale again. He asks me "so... you gonna play the genocide route?" And I already had from the beginning. I always want to play every available route in a game. I see no point in paying for something and then not playing it all. I'd consider myself a completionist who doesn't ever actually finish anything lmao.

I definitely put my emotions aside for genocide. The absolute hardest kill for me was Papyrus, though. And i was absolutely fucking heartbroken when he said he still believed me as his last words. But I forced it aside. I didn't want to reset. I wanted to beat it to have it under my belt that I had. I was pretty sure the Sans battle would be here, since I hadn't heard Megalovania in the game yet, and I was aware of how hard the battle was, despite never seeing it.

Undyne's battle I'm more emotional about in retrospect than I was at the time. At the time, I didn't care, didn't like the theme much, and the dings gave me a headache. Undyne isn't exactly my favorite character (though definitely not my least favorite, that role is given to Frisk with Toriel not close behind ahdhsb im sorry), so I really wasn't concerned about it. Not to mention, I don't know why, but all of the battles I struggled with EXCEPT Undyne's I ended up liking the character more as a result. Maybe it was the dinging lmao.

Bro you shoulda seen how prepared I was for Mettaton NEO's battle to be hard as fuck. I was like sitting upright, took deep breaths before hitting fight, then when he died in one shot i just kind of "wh...what." Still very disappointed lol but I guess that's kind of the point of the genocide route.

Then came the Sans fight. As I said, I spent 11 hours on this. I genuinely didn't pay attention to what he said after a while, but I do remember the first time I read it, I was fucking terrified. Usually, sarcasm, hatred, and sass is very hard to convey through pure text, especially when it's said in the same tone as his usual talking. But the absolute harshness, the coldness, and the lack of any fucks given Sans had at that point was so plainly transparent through everything he said that it fucking scared me. Toby Fox's writing here was fantastic. I can only dream of being able to write like that. Frankly, I love his writing in general. Actually, fuck it, I love all of the artistic takes of this game. This is gonna sound weird but... The "childishness" of it just is so good. Like, there's no rules. Every socially accepted rule of art, writing, character design, speech patterns, and even basic grammar are thrown aside. He didn't just think outside of the box, there literally was no box. I call it childish only because like, children also create with no rules. They have no rules to restrict their creativity. And seeing that embraced in Undertale in every form possible just blows me away.

Anyway. The battle. It. Was hard. Thats a given. I spent about two weeks playing it on and off, and it's probably the most healthily I've treated myself in recent memory, because when it became too much for me to handle, I set it down and took a break. I would retain what I memorized and use it for the next time I picked it up. Frankly, it came to a point where every time I opened up Undertale to play, it was more just cause I wanted to see him lmao. The guy hated my existence at this point and it's not like i disacknowledged that. But it just felt like every time i opened the game... Idk. I don't know what I felt. I can tell you for sure this isn't the time when Sans started slipping into my favorite character spot over Mettaton, that didn't come until the development of Act to Flirt's first demo, which was a month or so later lmao.

I was very excited when I beat Sans.

But then, after it was over, I felt very empty.

I didn't feel good about beating genocide. I still don't. I want to play the boss battles again, cause they were really fun, despite how hard they were, but I can't bring myself to.

When I got to Chara, and everything went to black, I just wiped my save and started fresh. I think this was the first time I used the name "Willo" for anything. I just picked a random name to use, and Willo was the first thing that came to mind.

I beat neutral again many times, trying to unlock as many secrets as I could. I accidentally spent like, way too long trying to get Sans's room, because I couldn't figure out how to do it... which is when I started speedrunning the game, because I was just so used to going through it all. I timed myself once, and I got somewhere around 1:20:00 ish, which puts me at the very bottom of the NG+ Glitchless runs by like 30 minutes, but hey, it's still not too bad all things considered.

I'd started working on Act to Flirt sometime in between the speedruns. I was playing Papyrus's date again, and I had this thought of. What if Undertale... but all boss fights are instead like Papyrus's date?? I pitched the idea to my friend who was like "thats definitely been done before lol" and immediately I almost shut down the idea. But then I still had that glimmer of hope that, maybe, since I haven't made it yet, people would like my game because it was by me. Besides, quarantine was getting to me. I needed some way to spend my time. So on May 6th to May 7th, I spent the whole 24 hour period making the first proof of concept for the game, which was UI setup and Flowey's tutorial date. I hadn't made any of the art yet, so it was a black background with Flowey's undertale sprite. I originally was going to make everything more visual novel like in the sense that, so like on Papyrus's date, you could make choices like "unwrap the present" "dont unwrap the present" or "you look great" "you look terrible" and getting the ending would involve pretty much just saying the right things at the right times. But this alone was... Yknow, already done before, and part of what makes Undertale so great is that it's, despite its many outside influences, very unique in its gameplay. So I decided to make the dates more like puzzle-solving RPG's, and frankly, since doing that, I dont know if I want to go back to making other visual novels lmao.

After making the first demo and releasing it, I hit a creative funk. I wanted to make the next demo right away, but I forced myself to stop (since i was working 16+ hour days to finish it in exactly a week. I didn't eat much and i slept very little during this time too. Dont do this lmao). I didn't know if the game would be received, and frankly, I'd had many failed projects in the past due to lack of support. I lost a lot of support in the past due to the dropped projects I kept starting and quitting because I had such a small audience, and that made me lose a lot of interest and motivation to work on them. So I posted the first demo and waited. I was very shocked to have a YouTuber with over a million subs play it that weekend. Dantekris I think was her channel name. She speaks Russian, and I never understood a word she said, but I've still watched her let's plays because I enjoy seeing her reactions. I hate that YouTube keeps deleting my responses on her videos, probably because they're long and in English so it's marked as spam on a comments section full of purely Russian comments yknow. But it makes me feel like such an ass ;w;

Mairusu is the next large YouTuber who played it and my god I love seeing when he uploads a new update for my game because I genuinely have no idea what to expect from him. I don't know what it is but he's just so absolutely funny to me. He also seems to be the most common breaker of my game though. Stop making your own bugs!! I try to testplay to find the bugs he gets and it's like.... what did you do.... how did you skip that whole date im so confused thats not supposed to happen..... He accidentally skipped all of Muffet's date because of this too and hers is supposed to be the hardest in the game right now so I'm very upset by it;; i dont know how it happened, it never happens for me.

But like. I was definitely struggling a bit with the direction I wanted to take AtF. I wanted there to be a core message, like with Undertale and many other of my favorite things. When there's a core theme to write about, it makes things a lot easier to compose than if you have a plot with no meaning to it. It ties it all together for a common purpose. But, as I started diving more into the fandom around this time, finding not only it being still alive but still enormous and filled with passion.

Passion. Hm. That's familiar. That's the trait I gave the player character, rather than determination. While it was intended for giggles "haha dating game u have passion wink wonk," it started becoming more than that. It started becoming a manifestation of what I really felt upon finally soaking myself into the deep end of this pool I'd once been too afraid to step into. Passion. Everyone here is so driven by their passion for this game, the characters, its story. Everyone is so inspired and creative. That's it. That's what I wanted Act to Flirt to be.

A game made for those who have already dived deep into Undertale. A game made for those who have the same level if passion I've wittnessed. A game that someone might stumble upon, merely wanting any Undertale content they can find, and a dating sim leaves them grasping at straws, only to find it's a game instead deeply rooted in how much they care about this world and its people. You have a Soul of Passion, because your passion for Undertale brought you to this game. That's what the core message is. Every ending is supposed to depict different kinds of empathy, and True Passion shows you truly cared the most you could for all of these characters. Sans is so blocked from it because, well, how can he really believe it? "if we're really friends, you won't come back," right? But here you are. Again and again.

And Heartbreak. Whose heart is really the one breaking here? Taking the Hopes and Dreams of every single character you've grown to care for and crushing it beneath your feet... who is the one suffering in the end?

I just... I'm very excited. I've written that game with the player as the main character. Not Willo. Not Frisk. Not anybody else. You, the player, are the main character. I've honestly done a lot of looking around in the DDLC code to make this game as 4th wall breaking as I can (without like. Disrupting it as a game experience like ddlc is, with monika deleting things and stuff). Just enough to leave the player unsettled and confused. Like. "Me? Are you talking to me?" Yes. You. Directly to you.

I started sketching out designs and ideas for ULR around July. I genuinely loved Underlust after finding out about it, even though it was posed to me as an insult about the contents of Act to Flirt. I was both like "uh... Act to Flirt is nothing like this. Maybe in reversed roles at best but..." and also "okay but this? This shit is good. Thank you." But finding out it was discontinued and wanting more, well, that's when I decided to make ULR. I presented the idea to my friends, who were like "please stop making aus," and then continued onward. I told myself I wasn't going to work on it though until after I finished Act to Flirt... Then after the next demo came out... Then it turned out I was working on it too much and it resulted in me rushing my release of the 3rd demo of AtF because I'd been so distracted I was going to miss my release deadline of the end of August, before school. I... Still kinda regret that a lot. It's still very buggy. Though I hope I got them all for the next demo...

But speaking of school .... ha... Remember when i said i was going to transfer to another school? Well, I did, and for the first few weeks it was fine! Then I started skipping assignments I didn't want to do. Then I started panicking about my low grades. Then I started getting behind on assignments. Then I stopped going to classes. Then I lost all motivation to work on anything at all. I just locked myself in my room and did next to nothing with the occasional drawing here and there, for weeks. It came to the point where I was like "I just have to get through this semester, then I'll drop out." But if I ever wanted to go back to school, having all F's on my last report card would not bode well for my acceptance. Which lead to more stress. I didn't want to fail, but I also didn't have any motivation to work. I would do one assignment here or there, feel good about myself, then realize I was still months behind on work and suddenly oh god oh fuck finals are next week. And my solution? I just. Fuckin dropped out. Oh my god. It was such a relief to just get that weight off my shoulders that I'd been carrying for months on end, preventing me to do anything I wanted to work on.

Well. Then my car tires died. So that's a thing. But good news! Between commissions and gifts, I have enough money to get them replaced! I don't think I've ever like... Been so excited about that before.

And, well. Now I'm here, pretty much. God, I just went through my entire year summary, and it feels like it was both forever long but also not long at all. I don't get it. 2021 still feels like a far off future, despite the fact I'm now 5 hours into it. Yes, I spent 4 hours writing this. Whoops. Oh well. I couldn't sleep anyway, so it's not that big of a deal.

All in all though... Despite being locked inside, away from my friends, unable to talk to anyone about the things i was enjoying, and living in fear of getting sick at all ever with anything, 2020 definitely fuckin changed me for the better. It was a hellhole of a year and I'd never do it again or wish it upon my worst enemy, but I came out a better person... I think. I hope.

It seems cliche to bring back but fuck it. Undertale? My friend insists its core message was that anyone can be a good person if they just try, which I mean, it definitely probably was intended that way. But that never was the message I felt while playing it.

What lesson I took from it was "things aren't always as they seem."

Flowey betrays you immediately, but then you find out he's just the remnants of a boy who died years ago and is still grieving over the loss of his best friend, whomst, despite how much he cares for them, recognizes they weren't good to him and he'd been manipulated and used by them.

Toriel is a kind and caring woman, a still grieving mother over the loss of her children, who seems to have kindness to no end, but is actually filled with such hatred and depression that she regularly gets drunk, swears, and still, without resilience, hates her ex husband.

Sans is a playful character who is full of puns, a gross atmosphere, and decided to break physics just because he can. He's the embodiment of a comic relief character. But at the same time, he's suffering, struggling, in constant pain and worry. He's lazy, but quick on his feet. He's harmless but will kill without hesitation if need be. He's both caring and the least caring of them all.

Papyrus is like... a self-centered asshole in a way, when you first meet him. He prides himself and everything he does. Yet still, he's actually quite open and accepting and loves everyone. He loves talking with and being with other people, even if maybe sometimes he has a different interpretation of social interaction from the "norm."

Undyne comes off as cruel and deadly, such even being emphasized in many points. But, deep down, she's extremely caring for those who are close to her, and her only cruelty is dealt to those who have wronged her in some way.

Alphys is a sweet and nervous wreck who comes off as helpful and lacking a filter due to her tendency to ramble. She seems to be merely anxious due to likely social anxiety... But you eventually find out that she's a liar who merely wants to create a world to be a better place, and by doing so, she pretends all the bads do not exist.

Mettaton comes off as an absolute self-centered asshole. Like. There's no way around that. He seemingly has no regard for other people with only full intentions of helping himself. But, deep down, he actually cares a lot for other people, especially his family and friends, and just tends to get caught up in things while he's in the moment.

Muffet seems to be greedy with how much money she begs people to give her for the spiders, but, as it turns out, she's flat broke and drops no G when you beat or kill her. She merely needs the money to help the spiders.

Asgore, too, is built up to be this ruthless killer throughout the whole game, and when you finally meet him, he's an incredibly sweet guy who's only filled with regret, and because of his past decisions, has decided to put aside his hopes for the sake of his people.

I...

Didn't see any of these characters for who they really were right away. Why would I? Few of these archetypes are explored much in a lot of fiction lately, or at least what I've been consuming; and is more focused around how someone can change their flaws into something positive... Not how to accept someone for who they are, despite the wrongs they may have committed or the lives they lead. Everyone's different. Everyone's grown up differently. Everyone has a reason for what they do.

And it took me playing this game to realize such a simple concept that I probably should have learned years ago.

That's why I really think 2020 changed me for the better. I made a realization that I should have had many years ago, and it's made me a lot more confident in expressing myself, accepting people for what they do, and seeing the brighter side to everything. I say that, sitting here filled with nothing and void of all emotion whatsoever... But it's a conscious thought i have. My emotions are so weird... They're either on full blast or I feel nothing at all. But yet I have... Thoughts of what i should feel? It's weird. Idk. This is why I'm getting therapy LMAO

But yea. 2020? Fuck you. But also thank you. But mostly fuck you and good riddance lmao

[trashcankitty12]

Stella Headcanons:

You know her. You love her. 

She’s bubbly, she’s fun. (And she’s pretty funny.)

She’s Princess Stella Sol of Solaria. 

(These headcanons are all in relation to my ‘main verse’, which is the New Company of Light/Balance Verse. And it can also translate into my Left verse.)

Under the cut because it’s long.

About Stella:

-Her fear of heights comes from a major fall she took as a child off of her grandfather’s pet dragon. (He was teaching her how to ride and… She wasn’t holding onto it well enough and down she went.)

-Stella is fluent in nearly 56 of the Magical Dimensions languages. (She was to stick to the languages spoken by the realms who interacted most with Solaria.)

-After meeting Bloom and spending a little time on Earth, Stella is also trying to learn a few of the Earth’s languages. (She’s mastered English and Spanish, but she’s still working on French and Russian.)

-She loves sweets. (And food in general. But considering she’s Solarian, that’s to be expected. They tend to eat more than most people in the Magical Dimension.)

-Stella may or may not glow in the dark. (It’s something she can control and she has to be focused to do it. She inherited that gift from her mother.)

-Stella’s mother was religious and has a close relationship to the Moons, while her father, despite being so close in relationship to the Suns of Solaria, isn’t religious. Stella personally has mixed feelings on religion. She likes the idea of spirituality and having a higher power to rely on, but organized religion makes her heart hurt. (They tend to talk down about those who don’t follow a ‘certain’ way of life, which to Stella isn’t a cool thing to do, unless, of course, the other people are actually hurting someone else.)

-She was almost a big sister. Her mother had been pregnant when she was seven. (They don’t ever talk about it. And, as an adult, Stella can see where this was a turning point for her parents and their relationship. Her mother just wasn’t quite the same after losing Diana.)

-Stella is a dog person and was so happy when she finally got a puppy for her birthday one year. (The dog was her best friend and her main confidant.) Unfortunately, Stella’s dog only made it to four years old. (It had an illness that not even magic could fix.)

-Stella hasn’t been able to stomach the thought of another dog since. (However, Brandon may or may not offer for them to get a dog later on. You know, as their “first child”.)

-Stella can spot patterns without trying. It’s so ingrained in her after being around fashion, and the practical applications of pattern spotting have made her life so much easier.

-Here’s the thing about Stella… She’s somewhat dyslexic. Words and reading do not come easily to her. On the flip side, Stella can give one hellova speech. Her charisma and charm make her a natural at hyping up a crowd.

-Stella had a fairy godmother until she was 13. An elderly woman named Glinda. Glinda helped Stella with her shyness and in her first fashion attempts. And Glinda was the one who helped Stella gain her magic winx the first time with encouragement and confidence. (After all, how else should a future queen bring out her power?)

-After gaining her wings, her father gifted her the Ring of Solaria. It was done in a ceremony to the Suns and Moons of Solaria and the Ring had to choose Stella just as it had Radius and their family before them. Once Stella and the Ring bonded, she shifted for the first time in public to show off her wings and magic. Her parents couldn’t have been prouder.

-She went to a private school on Solaria for her elementary and middle school education years, but she was somewhat isolated due to being the Princess of Solaria (making the other kids judge her ahead of time as some sort of prim and proper prep they didn’t want around) and due to some of her ‘uncool’ hobbies.

-(Those uncool hobbies? Stella is actually into comics and superheroes, but until meeting the rest of the Winx, she wasn’t interested in sharing that side of herself. Solarian Comics actually helped Stella with reading because of their writing structure. Stella is also a fan of learning cultures and wanting to see what benefits other places and if it could be replicated to help Solaria. And Stella was kind of a… Horse girl. She spent many, many, many summers and school holidays at her maternal uncle’s horse ranch in the Western Spaces of Solaria.)

-Stella tends to use her solar powers more than her lunar ones. It’s not because she doesn’t feel close to her mother or to her mother’s family, it’s just a little more difficult for her tap into that part of her magic. (Solar magic is easy and tapped into by thinking of warm and splendid times. Lunar magic requires a bit more… Reflection. And Stella doesn’t like having to think too long about things. Not because she can’t, but because if she starts to really think about things, she tends to overthink them which leads her down a dark rabbit hole.)

-Stella’s best friend growing up was Nova Rinae, despite being two years older than the other girl. Nova’s mother is the head of Luna’s guard, and Nova was often in the palace. (Making her one of the few children always around. And because she shared several of Stella’s interests, they clicked rather quickly.)

-(Her parents also encourage this friendship as it’s important to them for Stella to be close to those who may serve alongside her when its time for her to become queen. Friendships can be turned into unwavering loyalty, and that can mean life or death in certain situations.)

-Before she ever got her magic, Stella’s parents thought she may end up being the ‘New Host’ for the Light Dragon. (Bloom was never found, which meant no one could say for certain what happened to the Light Dragon, other than it had to be alive still. Otherwise the Balance would have been off.)

-Because of their thoughts on her having the Light Dragon, Stella was taught basic hand-to-hand skills as a child and was instructed to be wary of “golden eyes” in the shadows. She was also to learn Solaria’s history as well as Domino’s. (Though Stella mostly paid attention to how the two worlds overlapped instead of their separate histories.)

-Stella actually knew Layla, Sky, and Diaspro as children. But because so much can change from being five years old to being 15/16, she didn't recognize them when they met again. (They had all been at a major conference for the realms and while their parents ‘talked shop’, they went to play. It was their first and last time together like that until years later.)

-Despite being a princess, Stella tends to be a bit messy. At least, as far as her room itself. Her workspaces (wardrobe and vanity and tailoring areas) are the most well-kept areas in her care. (She likes to work in clean spaces… But in her room, the space where she lives, she likes it to look lived in.)

-Stella originally got into fashion at about 10 years old in an attempt to get closer to her mother. Her mother always had work to do as a queen, and for her off-time, she went to fashion shows (which in a way, were also work, because as a queen she’s expected to be aware of trends and present herself in a certain way). So to spend more time with her mother, Stella started having an interest in fashion. (Which quickly became a hobby she loved when she found the different ways she could express herself with fashion.)

-In a bid to get closer to her father, Stella took a major interest in cooking. (Her father can bake. He’s messy at it, but by the Dragons do his pastries and cookies taste of heaven.) Granted, Stella didn’t inherit the baking skill, but she can recite recipes and judge pastries and baked goods like its her job. (And for some of Solaria’s festivals, it is.)

-Have I mentioned she’s an expert equestrian in the Solarian Rodeo? Her go-to is barrel racing and square-dancing competitions, and she’s even dipped her toes into riding the bronco and in cattle roping.

-Stella has far-sightedness. She can see things far away, but things up close are blurred. She used to wear glasses, but after elementary school, she swapped to contacts. (However she does still wear glasses and keeps them close by just in case. They’re a stylish silver-blue and not quite thick-framed.)

-Stella has formal training in ballroom dancing. (Her favorite is the Eraklyon Tango. Or at least, it has been for the past few years. Wonder why…?)

-Stella also has a minor fear of spiders. (It’s not really a fear either… More like a squick. She doesn’t like them, but she doesn’t mind them being around if she doesn’t have to see them. It’s because one of her school teachers thought a great Life Lesson would be for the class to witness his pet tarantula eat a live meal. Not fun for little Stella.)

(Not fun for him either, once the parents got a hold of him…)

-Stella lied about what happened during her ‘real’ first year at Alfea. She honestly did blow up the Potion’s Lab… But it wasn’t because she was researching color theories…

-Just before Stella was meant to leave for Alfea, like a week or two before, she found out from Nova, NOVA, that her parents were getting a divorce. Luna and Radius never told her. Her friend told her.

-Stella didn’t want to leave after that, afraid that if she was gone, she couldn’t help them patch things up. (She truly believed they could work this out. She just needed to be there. She needed them to see her and remember why they fell in love.)

-They dropped Stella off, but still didn’t discuss or leave room to discuss the divorce. (Stella didn’t want to let them know she knew because she didn’t want Nova in trouble for listening in on their mothers’ conversations.)

-Which led to a panicked Stella trying desperately to pretend to be okay while in the presence of the others. (She’s a princess, she can’t show despair. Especially without reason.)

-Stella was angry that her parents still hadn’t talked to her and that they had sent her away. She was feeling left out and scared and confused. They were in love. Right?!

-So she started doing small things around Alfea to try and get her suspended. Not expelled, just suspended. (She needed time at home, before the holidays.)

-She verbally attacked other Alfea students, playing up the pompous princess act. No luck. She mocked Palladium. No luck. She even cut classes. No luck. So as a last resort, without having to go to Cloud Tower and stir trouble up there, was to mess around in the potion’s lab. It worked… Too well.

-She was expelled and sent back to Solaria. Her parents were upset with her, and disappointed (which was the worst ever for Stella who really wanted their approval in everything). Stella broke down and finally told them that she knew and that she didn’t want her family to break apart. That she was scared and shaken and angry. Angry that they could pretend so well that everything was fine when it obviously wasn’t.

-Luna and Radius decided to try a form of family counseling to try and help Stella. (They hated seeing their daughter so upset, but they knew in the long run that staying together would have damaged her further. She didn’t need to grow up with constant arguing and avoiding each other, that wasn’t a love story they wanted her to follow.)

-(They also explained the situation to Faragonda and promised to pay for the damages. Faragonda allowed Stella to return within the next school year if her progress with the counselor went well.)

-Stella, even though still upset with her parents’ divorce, was a bit more accepting of it after taking the school year to focus on them as a family. (Even one that was split.)

-Stella does have hope they’ll reunite, but she understands a bit more now why they split up. (And even though they are in separate palaces, Luna taking residence in the Lunar Sections now, she knows they love her very much.)