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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed.

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem.

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you.

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work.

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes.

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point.

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug.

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s.

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled.

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… “Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.”

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental.

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best.

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home.

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly.

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…”

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile.

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both.

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders.

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @ladyjenny19 @readsalot73 @softmedics

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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miraculousmarifan · 4 years

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Felinette Month 2020 - Day 19: Fallen Angel

Happy @felinettenovember! Can you guys guess what prompts I spend more than one day writing? I almost decided to try drawing the akumatized Felix before remembering that I haven’t drawn in nearly 10 years (maybe I would be better off painting it?) and wasn’t really good at people before that point... So I did this instead!

Almost 1900 words and if requested, this could have a continuation for some resolution later this year or early next year and/or potentially a piece of art to try showing Felix as an akuma and/or the object that inspired his form

Felix was close to flipping tables. Marinette had to be an angel from above with how she was handling being bullied by this Lila girl. How was it that even after the school was notified that Lila supposedly had a disease that made her compulsively lie but wasn’t antisocial personality disorder (?), the teacher refused to step in and help one of her star pupils? He shouldn’t be surprised. This was the same teacher that condoned Chloe’s defacing of Marinette’s present to count as them working together on it, even though Marinette had put actual effort into it. This was the same teacher that tried to convince Marinette to be a doormat, in the name of “setting a good example,” as though that has truly changed people that benefit from wronging others.

What he really couldn’t understand was how her friends weren’t more cautious about the liar. She had temporarily gotten Marinette expelled by claiming that she had not only cheated on a mock test, but also stolen the liar’s necklace, AND pushing the witch down the stairs. The class didn’t believe that it sounded like Marinette and YET after Marinette is returned due to the supposed uncontrollable lying diagnosis, they don’t question Lila's integrity? He couldn’t quite fathom why they wouldn’t take the things she said with a grain of salt after that very public and obvious set of lies, especially about Marinette.

And yet, here he was. Standing outside the classroom, waiting for a phone call from his driver, when he overhears the liar whispering to a few girls from the class. Marinette had been gone for an appointment the last period of school and apparently that wasn’t enough for Lila. He heard Alya exclaim, “That doesn’t really sound like Marinette…” and then a sad reply along the lines of how she knew Marinette was friends with all them but she couldn’t believe Marinette said that to her and just wanted to understand why by asking their closest friends. So on so on. Even with her verbalized doubt, it was clear from the tone she used that Alya believed it possible that Marinette had something to Lila, even if it wasn’t as severe as the liar had made it out to be. Felix didn’t need to be any closer to smell the fake crap Lila was spreading. He was sure it would have smelled over a mile away.

Rose exclaimed how she couldn’t believe how much Marinette was starting to act like Chloe and how they really needed to shake Marinette out of this. Alya volunteered to talk to her about it and encouraged them not to do anything crazy before then. It was the first time Felix felt a decent amount of respect towards Alya. Apparently she is starting to learn not to jump immediately to conclusions when it comes to Lila and Marinette. Unfortunately their other friends hadn’t gotten that much insight from the previous incidents and believed that Lila wouldn’t possibly exaggerate or make up anything and cause drama unnecessarily. Alya told the group that she had texted the girl and was going to head over to their place to hang out later that night.

Alya left, muttering how it sounded too extreme to be what Marinette had actually said. Felix had to give it to her, even if she had too much faith in the Italian, it was nice to see she wouldn’t fully discount her friend without any true evidence. Unfortunately with Alya’s departure, the voice of reason had left these girls and they were left with a snake. Felix decided to move slightly closer, just to keep an ear out for danger.

“I don’t think having a talk with her is really going to change Marinette’s mind. I mean she already knows about my health conditions and she’d rather discriminate against me than admit that I’m just trying to be friends. I reached out in good faith, painting her a picture, and she destroyed it and told me we could never be friends. It was just shockingly mean! She’s so nice to you guys so I thought this would help, especially since we like so much of the same stuff! I can’t help it if Adrien rejected her for me!”

Felix wanted to gag at that reasoning again. Marinette had worked to move on from Adrien long ago and especially hard when he had started dating Kagami over a year ago. She even started having tea and snacks with his girlfriend at least once a month, since Kagami didn’t get out much and Marinette didn’t want her to feel left out. As far as Felix knew, Marinette had long since given up on Adrien and was more focused on her personal projects than on boys, something her friends should have known by now.

“We know it’s not your fault and she should realize that too!” Rose tried to cheer up Lila.

“It’s so hard to imagine her destroying someone else’s art when she preaches about how people shouldn’t touch other’s work! Plus she has to know how much that sucks, after Chloe ruined her present for Ms. Bustier a few years ago…” Alix sounded angry enough to act impulsively and it didn’t sit well with Felix.

“To me, it just doesn’t seem like talking to her is going to be enough for her to really think about her actions, but you guys know her the best!” Lila managed to get a small amount of wavering into her voice, to convey hesitant worry and unsuccessfully attempted optimism through her small shrug. Felix may have thought that some of her lies should be relatively easy to dismiss but he had to admit that sometimes she could be a good actress.

“If we left her a message along with doing something, she wouldn’t ignore it right? Especially if she knows that if she ever does something like that again, we won’t stay friends with her…” Alix suggested. Felix felt his stomach sink. This was going bad but he couldn’t just walk in there right? He waited a moment longer to hear them start planning how they were going to ruin Marinette’s personal art project that she had been working on during her study hall, as it was sitting in a drying area of the art room. He had enough information to go talk to Damocles about what he had heard.

After hearing Felix’s concerns and hearing his stern insistence that this was actually at risk of happening, not just girl’s venting, Damocles accompanied him to the art room to check into the security of the projects inside. By the time the pair arrived though, they were too late. Nobody was in the room anymore, however Marinette’s project was beyond repair.

She had sculpted a human-like angel with arms raised with peace and joy captured remarkably on its face, an orb in its hands being presented to the sky like a holy gift. The wings had been formed into individual feathers and Marinette had just put the first layer of paint on it that day. The base color of the wings was a lovely shade of light pink, her dress had the first layer of white, the skin left a gray tone, with a small amount of darker gray and lighter gray added to certain areas to imitate how light would fall if emitted from the orb. The orb had a strange tone of light blue-green for the base. He had been enthusiastically anticipating her final painting work since she had finished the sculpting step.

Now the angel was missing a wing, the orb that had barely rested on the carved palms was separated from the hands, and the arms were no longer connected. He picked up the body of the statue gently before looking up at Damocles sadly.

“It’s too bad we didn’t get here sooner. I guess we will just have to check the school’s cameras to figure out who did this.” Damocles took a step towards the stand that the statue had previously been set on, picked up the note left on it, and read it out loud.

“‘This is for ruining Lila’s painting. You should’ve accepted her peace offering rather than blaming her for Adrien’s rejection and if you keep acting like this, you won’t have any more friends here.’--” he cleared his throat in displeased surprise, “-- I will need to take this note as evidence in this. Also, we should probably take some pictures of the damages before getting this cleaned up.”

Felix helped set the pieces of the statue on the table next to each other before the principal took out his cell phone and snapped a quick picture of that and of the note. Before the man could leave, Felix volunteered to clean up the classroom as he was sure Marinette would still want the pieces. He was also sure that Damocles would actually proceed with this investigation due to his involvement and firmness regarding the need to supply a punishment. While the punishment would not be sufficient, there would at least be some record of this incident.

Before sweeping up the tiny pieces that he didn’t expect her to care about, he sat down in a chair and held the body of the statue. His fingers ran over the one remaining wing despite the paint smearing on his skin, feeling the texture his classmate had managed for the feathers. It was an amazing work that would be difficult to replicate, if Marinette even decided it was worth doing again. Part of him hoped she would redo the remarkable piece. He felt anger bubbling just below the surface of his sadness, anger that the girls that were supposedly her friends would do this. Anger that their school was not secure for her. Anger that he wasn’t able to protect her, even having heard the plans. Grief over being too slow to protect her. Crushing sadness that she couldn’t trust her classmates, her supposed friends, to even ask her about a situation before trusting another’s words about her. Someone that had very publicly lied to get her suspended just the last school year. He was so busy with his thoughts and the statue that he missed the purple butterfly coming towards him until it settled into the statue.

“Hello Ange Déchu. I am Hawk Moth. The people around you pass judgement on the innocent and work on behalf of the wicked. It must be frustrating to watch them work to break the people you care about. I will give you the power to understand people’s intentions and apply your chosen consequences on them so you can protect the ones you love. In exchange you would give me Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous.”

In this akumatized form, he could not only protect Marinette but also help her get revenge on the manipulative witch. She would be his queen, his direction, and she would be able to decide how she wanted to apply justice.

“Yes Hawk Moth. I will deal out Marinette’s justice and get the miraculous for you.” The akumatized Felix, called Fallen Angel, unfurled his black wings and pushed off the ground to fly to Marinette’s side. He would protect her first and foremost. Then they would deal with the witch and her flying monkeys however she saw fit.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #akumatized felix #lila salt #alya sort of redeemed?#some bustier salt #damocles actually does SOMETHING #felinette #miraculous ladybug

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ricaffeine · 4 years

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𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words.

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

taglist -> i could not tag some of ya'll :( @anotherdush @callmeashipper @ourcoffeeaddictme @nothingcreativeyet @pancat @hotstuff-benswolo @lookingatthesunset @evielovesfood @waywarm @gloster @hello-79 @ailander

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #iotnbo #pbio fic #kdrama #kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #ko mun yeong #ko moon young #moon kang tae #hotel blue moon #hotel moon light

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pawprinterfanfic · 5 years

Text

Trouble is a Friend

Anne with an E | Shirbert

Rated G | One-shot (3k words) | Complete | Read on AO3 (link is in the first reblog)

When someone makes a post on the ‘take notice’ board, Anne and Gilbert are forced to have a difficult conversation.

or: someone calls Anne and Gilbert out on their very obvious heart-eyes during dance practice.

Anne was not avoiding Gilbert.

She wasn’t.

Truly.

It just so happened that, whenever they were in the same room, something urgent came up and she had to excuse herself. Like doubling checking her milk was fully submerged in the creek, or making sure that her coat hadn’t fallen to the ground, or seeing if Ms. Stacy could use an extra set of hands.

Really — she wasn’t avoiding Gilbert because, if she was, that meant there was a reason why. She refused to entertain that thought.

It was just a dance.

Between friends.

For class.

If she was avoiding Gilbert because of the dance, that meant she was acknowledging it wasn’t as simple as that. Two friends didn’t avoid each other because they practiced dancing for the fair — Diana wasn’t avoiding Charlie, after all.

(Then why was she avoiding Gilbert?)

(...)

(Not!)

(Not avoiding Gilbert.)

This was how she found herself at her desk long after school ended, a book about Scotland propped open in front of her. The not-Gilbert related confusion in her life was not going to draw her away from her search for her heritage.

She breezed through the next three chapters in hopes everyone (including a certain someone) would leave before she did. Reading had always been her escape and it seemed she mastered the skill to close off the rest of the world as she soaked in the words from the page. The world was seemingly insignificant compared to the marvellous pictures being painted in her mind, the words seemingly came to life in her mind, the pages—

“Anne!”

She startled when a hand brushed against her shoulder, jolting her back to reality. Diana leaned across the table in front of her, pushing the book out of the way and grabbing Anne’s hands. A laughed bubbled from her lips — Diana’s excitement was contagious.

“Diana, you’re—”

“No time. Someone made a posting about you.” Diana’s eyes were wide and, for the first time, Anne realized they were wide with surprise and... concern?

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. What could someone have said that would make Diana react like this?

“I— What?” Anne stood up hastily, her seat scraping against the floor. Diana tugged on Anne’s hands, pulling her in the direction of the front door. She hesitated for a moment, a countless number of thoughts filling her head — and then they were off.

They rushed out of the school without another word, Diana pulling her all the way. They rounded the bend, and—

“Anne?”

She grew stiff, her feet rooting to the ground. Gilbert stood mere feet away from her, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

Something was wrong.

Anne had seen all sides of Gilbert over the years — the annoyed, the frustrated, the heart broken, the stressed, the terrified, the happy. She knew Gilbert, sometimes better than she knew herself.

And, right now, she knew he was upset. And panicked, maybe? It was unnerving.

Diana tugged on her arm, breaking her from her stupor. She pulled her the remaining distance to the ‘take notice’ board, and it took all of her strength to shift her gaze from Gilbert to the pieces of paper.

Her eyes danced across the weather-worn pieces of paper, searching for what Diana was talking about. Finally, she reached up and pointed to a paper dead centre. Unlike the other ones, this one was crisp and, unfortunately, clear.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and Gilbert Blythe shared intimate romantic gazes during dance practice.

The first thing Anne felt was shock, closely followed by dread. Dread — it felt like cold boney hands, reaching into her chest, pulling on her heart. A crushing weight settled on her shoulders, stealing her breath.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands grew sweaty. Anne swore her cheeks were flushing from spending too much time under the sun, but, really, she just got outside.

Anne didn’t know why this notice posting was so different from the others. Several notes were scattered across the board about her, but she never paid them much attention before. They were harmless! But this?

This was not harmless.

The other postings were fun because nothing was serious. The difference here was the fact this was serious.

So, very serious.

This was about her and Gilbert, and that was crossing the line from fun and playful to something real.

The truth of the matter was that, yes, maybe she had been avoiding Gilbert earlier that day.

And, yes, it was because things weren’t as simple as she hoped it would be. It wasn’t just a dance between two friends. It was a dance between her and Gilbert Blythe.

(Gilbert Blythe — the same person that managed to make her heart flutter when she looked at him — the same person that helped bring out the best pieces of herself — the same person that she very recently realized she had a massive, massive crush on.)

Anne was aware of two pairs of eyes on her face, and she fought to maintain composure. She tightened her jaw and lifted her chin, trying her best to conceal her true emotions.

(Because, if she was being honest, her true emotions scared her.)

“Anne,” Gilbert tried again, his voice hoarse. Her eyes flicked to his. Her throat tightened. He sounded so unsure, so hesitant. “Did you… Did you post this?”

If she wasn’t blushing before, she sure was after that.

Her mouth dropped open and she stumbled over her words. “I— I— What!? No. No, absolutely not!”

Anne felt like she was going to die of embarrassment right then and there. Gilbert was looking at her with an expression she didn’t recognize, Diana looked like she just witnessed a crime, and she her stupid face was not cooperating!!

Before things could get worse (and Anne knew they were going to get worse), she turned to Diana, her lips pressed thinly together. “Can we have a minute?”

She blinked. “You and I?”

Anne wanted to scream. “Uh, no. Sorry. I meant Gilbert. With me.” She could see the confusion on Gilbert’s expression intensify out of the corner of her eye. She refused to glance in his direction. “Please, Diana?”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Anne tried to convey just how sure she was with a pointed stare. Diana’s eyebrows rose the slightest bit in understanding.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Diana was reluctant, but she bid farewell and began her journey home, leaving Anne alone with Gilbert.

Well, at least there wasn’t going to be an audience for this beastly conversation.

Silence.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats—

Anne spun to him, the momentum of her turn making her braid slap against her cheek. Her tongue felt twisted, and she felt like she would be unable to get any words out of it even if she wanted to.

It was all made worse when she finally looked at his face.

He looked horrified — truly horrified. She doubted he ever looked so frantic in front of her before. His eyes were wide and jaw locked. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if he was preparing to run.

(Maybe she should run.)

For the first time in her life, Gilbert looked at a loss for words.

Anne tried to pretend her heart wasn’t aching with this. It was harder than she thought. Hurt blossomed in her chest, squeezing her heart, constricting her throat.

Why did it hurt so bad to see exactly how uninterested he was in her? It wasn’t like this came as a surprise! He was Gilbert, and they were friends. Over the years, he made it very clear that he was happy with their friendship.

(Just their friendship.)

But seeing him look so horrified at the posting that brought up them sharing romantic gazes? That hurt. He thoroughly looked disgusted by the thought of being romantically interested in her.

She lifted her chin and forged ahead. This situation wasn’t going to get any better by staring at him.

“I didn’t post this,” she promised him, her voice strong. “We both know that isn’t my handwriting.”

Gilbert’s eyes flicked back to the note. His lips twitched as he read the words over again. Anne’s heart plummeted.

“It wasn’t you.” He turned back to her. “It wasn’t me either, let me assure you.”

Anne shifted uneasily. She wasn’t sure what to say to make this situation better. “It must’ve been written by someone who thought it was funny. Besides, half of the notices are also clearly false. This one just… fits right in.”

“Well, even so, everyone will this it’s true.”

Anne knew she shouldn’t have felt so hurt by his words, but she couldn’t ignore the pang of pain from her heart. She clenched her jaw so tight that she was worried for her teeth.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, she spoke.

“And what’s so bad about that?”

She regretted it as soon as she said it. She should’ve agreed with him. She should’ve told him how awful it was. She should’ve promised him that the posting wasn’t remotely true, and never would be.

But she didn’t.

This was getting too close to the feeling category. Panic descended on her.

Gilbert’s gaze snapped to hers, looking owlishly. “What?”

“Ugh. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Her words came out like venom. She didn’t wait to see how he reacted to the sudden shift.

Anne promptly turned and began to stalk away. Her hands were curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Her face was flashed, her heart racing, her chest aching. She wished she never opened her big mouth because now Gilbert was going to think she wanted the posting to be true.

(Which was the truth.)

(She wanted this posting to be so very true.)

“Anne!”

Gilbert lunged after her, catching her hand before she could get too far away. His touch alone made her freeze up. She was reminded of the dance, when it felt like neither of them wanted to let go of the other. She was tempted to snatch her hand out of his just to prove everything was false.

“I don’t understand.” Gilbert didn’t drop her hand either. “What’s so bad about what?”

Anne wasn’t sure where the confidence came from — maybe it was because the hurt was desperate to get out — but she answered truthfully.

“I asked you what was so bad about everyone thinking we are together — that we are interested in each other like that?” The words were hard to get out of her mouth. She felt sick from fear. “I said forget it because it’s stupid.” She ripped her hand away from his. “Clearly I’m so unattractive that the thought of us disgusts you, even when it is false.”

Gilbert looked like he had been punched in the gut. His lips were parted and his eyes large.

The confidence she found earlier drained away quickly, leaving hurt to take its place. One thing Anne learned in her life was that when someone didn’t want to show hurt, they hid behind anger.

She lifted her chin and glared at him. “If that’s all?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and continued on the journey home.

(Her heart only hurt a little bit when she didn’t feel his hand pulling on hers again.)

Anne made it further than before. She was already starting down the path leading away from school when he called out for her again.

“Wait!” She didn’t wait. Gilbert had to jog to catch up to her brisk pace. “Wait, Anne, what—”

“I said forget it, okay? So… forget it!”

She was half tempted to turn around and say something that would make it clear she was not. interested. in. him. ‘I can’t stand you’ seemed to be the best thing her brain could come up with in that moment, but luckily, she never got a chance to speak.

“You, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert are not unattractive.”

She nearly fell face first into the ditch.

Anne turned to him, her mouth open and mind blank. He looked nervous — extremely so — but there was a determination in his eyes that she’d witnessed only a few times before.

“You... you think I’m attractive?”

Gilbert’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected her to question him. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out.

Anne was beginning to wonder why she asked him. Clearly, he only said those words earlier because implying otherwise would’ve been rude.

Besides, why did she care anyway? It was Gilbert Blythe, not her future husband.

Blood rushed to her face at that.

Just as she was about to turn away from him, he laughed. It wasn’t one filled with cruelty — a laugh that she heard so often before coming to Avonlea — rather, it was one that was filled with so much warmth that it made her heart melt.

“Of course, Anne. You’re... beautiful.” He was looking at her oddly, and it made her heart rate quicken even more. “Take your hair, for instance. It reminds me of the sun — so bright, and warm.”

“You called the colour ‘carrot’ before, if I remember correctly.”

“You still remember that?” he laughed. She couldn’t help but grin back at him. She did remember that — and she also remembered the resounding slap her slate made against his face. “Clearly, I hadn’t seen a carrot before making that comparison. Besides, I thought you were pretty back then, too.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Ask anyone — it wasn’t a secret. I told everyone the first day we met that you were pretty.”

(She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach and the giddiness bubbling up inside of her.)

(It was a failing project.)

For a long moment, they stared at each other, unsure of what to say. During the silence, she worked up enough courage to speak what was on her mind.

“And still, the idea of… of the notice being true — or even people thinking it is true — disgusts you,” she pointed out. The rush of joy she felt moments earlier dropped off quickly when she remembered his horror at the notice board.

She couldn’t read Gilbert’s expression again. His gaze danced along her face, drinking in the details. Anne got caught up in the way the sun caught his eyes and the way the wind blew a single curl against his forehead.

He looked away for a moment. His jaw tightened.

“The idea of courting you — of being with you — doesn’t disgust me.” His words were slow, like he was evaluating each one before he spoke. His expression was soft, and it took her breath away. “What disgusts me is people’s ability to lie and make up false stories about other people. It’s horrible. One day, it’s about two people that are interested in each other; the next, it’s something malicious. Once the gossip starts, it’s hard to get it to stop.”

Anne picked up on his earlier words. “Interested in each other?” she echoed, her heart banging against her rib cage.

Gilbert must’ve realized his choice of words. His eyebrows flew up and he pursed his lips. “Well... yes. That’s what the notice says, is it not?”

Her heart fell. For a moment, she thought he was admitting something to her — admitting that her feelings for him weren’t one-sided.

“Oh. Right.” Anne chewed on her lip. “That is what it says.”

Silence consumed them.

It was awkward.

Anne wanted to sink into the ground, or maybe disappear into the darkness, or — even better — just vanish right there.

Gilbert smiled. “So… we’re good, right?”

It was hard not to smile with him looking at her like that. “We’re good.”

And that was the truth.

Whoever posted the notice on the board about them must’ve thought they were being clever, but that impacted him as much as it impacted her. With Gilbert clarifying he was horrified by people spreading rumours about them — and not horrified by the idea of being romantically involved with her — she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The hurt in her heart eased.

Yeah. They were going to be okay.

She glanced at the horizon, where the sun was already starting to hang low in the sky. Marilla was going to kill her for coming home so late.

They locked eyes. “I need to get home,” she said after a moment. “Uh. Thank you, though, for… you know.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “You know.”

Anne wasn’t sure why she couldn’t say goodbye to him like a normal human being, but there she was, standing inches away from him, her eyes refusing to leave his. It felt like they were sharing something special in that moment — something more precious than simple words or ‘intimate romantic gazes,’ as the notice so eloquently put it.

She really did need to go though.

Anne took a step backwards, ending the moment. She could feel Gilbert’s eyes on her as she turned and continued back down the path.

Ten seconds passed before he spoke again.

“And Anne?” She turned back to face him. “You know… It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if the take notice posting was true.” He lifted his eyebrows. “I think I’d be okay with, uh, ‘intimate romantic gazes’ — as long as it was with you.”

Anne laughed brightly. Her smile was so wide it hurt her cheeks.

“You know, I think I’d be okay with that, too.”

It was a lie.

Anne knew she’d definitely be okay with that.

#shirbert #anne with an e #awae #awae fanfiction #shirbert fanfiction #anne x gilbert #anne shirly cuthbert #gilbert blythe #awae fanfic #awae fic #anne of green gables #pawfic #pawmood #mine

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Ghost

“Temperature up to 37 degrees Celsius. Heart rate is increasing. Brain activity stable.”

Tom Allman heard voices calling him awake. The last thing he remembered was pain, large projectiles hitting him at a thousand miles an hour. Each one felt like it would shatter his whole body. He remembered Ru’Yi’s voice screaming.

“Dragon blood ratio steady… no… rising.”

“Ms. Chu. What do we do?”

Tom’s eyes fluttered open. Chu. “Ru’Yi?”

“Wait.” A pair of familiar brown eyes stared down at him. “Tom… can you hear me? I know you’re still in there. I’m afraid this might be the last time we get to talk.”

His vision cleared. The face he saw was not Ru’Yi, but vaguely familiar to her. The confusion and his brain fog helped him ignore the insistence of his rising heart rate.

“I can’t give you any more of the current serum. It won’t work on you and there are others that might need it. I don’t have time to explain a lot. Your dragonblood purity is far over threshold. We suppressed it, but… it only created a rubberbanding effect. The more we suppressed it, the more it bounced back. You’re not the only one this has happened to.”

She was speaking quickly and calmly, but his heart was still beating like it wanted to escape his chest. He started to feel panicked. Bubbles floated up in front of his face.

“This next treatment is experimental. It’s your last chance. I want your consent. Can I treat you, Tom?”

His eyes roamed the room. All around him were tanks of people in various stages of dragon blood evolution floating in glass coffins of clear water. They had fangs jutting out from their upper jaws, some had horns sticking up through their hair.

“Yes or no.”

“Is she okay? Did I hurt her?” His hands pressed against the glass. They were covered in scales. Claws jutted from the gnarled knuckles. “Help! Help me! Please!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The woman nodded to another standing next to her.

The second woman looked at him with a cold blue eyed gaze. She looked no older than a high school student. She reached up and started pushing some buttons on a panel.

“What is she doing?”

“I can’t suppress your dragon blood. All I can do is let it do its thing. All I can do is separate you from it.”

“Who are you?”

He looked into her eyes. She reached up and pressed on the glass on the other side of his hand. “I… am Ru’Yi’s mother. I had hoped… it wouldn’t come to this.”

A tear slipped from her eye to her cheek.

“The serum is a go.” The other girl looked up at her. “He’s the last volunteer.”

Ru’Yi’s mother nodded and then she walked away. Tom craned his neck to see but she was out of view.

“I will break down the procedure from here.” Said the cold eyed girl.

“W..what’s your name?”

“I’ll tell you if you survive.” She picked up a clipboard and looked at it. Unlike Ru’Yi’s mother, her eyes held no emotion at all.

“What?!” He felt a strong vibration and he was suddenly moving, being wheeled away from where he was held. “Am I going to die?”

“That will be up to you.” She said. “You are more than half dragon and your dragonblood mutations are proliferating. But you’re still Tom, even now. That makes it more … your choice.”

“I hear… I hear whispers.”

There was no one there to comfort him. He wanted to cry, but any tears he shed mixed with the water he was in. She walked forward and looked into a small black lens. The lens emitted a laser across the contours of her face. The doors slid open to another room, a larger one, with a dozen other tanks just like his.

Those inside them turned to face him, their hair floating in the water, their mouths covered by rebreathers, many with scales for skin.

Zero stood to face them all. “There’s no easy way to say this. You’ve reached the end of the line. You’ll be injected in the next few seconds. Within those seconds, you will try to kill me. If you get control of yourselves and stop attacking, then you will move to the next stage. If not…”

Zero casually lifted a blade from her back. There was nothing fancy about it. It was short, flat and to the point, just like the one who wielded it. “..Then I will kill you.”

“Now, brace yourselves. This will hurt.”

There was a sharp hiss, an electronic buzz and the sharp pinch of the needles that turned into a dull unbearable ache. He slammed against the glass, screaming. His vision went white.

In another moment, his eyes were open again and he saw Zero, heard her, smelled her. The pain from the injection still throbbed but even as he stood the wounds began to close themselves. He turned and looked. The glass container he had been locked in was shattered.

He was aware of others like himself too…

One let out a piercing shriek and leaped at her, but by the time it landed, Zero was no longer there. In the blink of an eye, she escaped, sword still drawn. She landed, as light as a dancer.

She turned and looked at him. She smelled like dragonblood. It was intoxicating. He felt drawn to it, as though it were a fire in a dark, cold place.

The one that attacked first was looking under her claws. She was naked, a long ebony tail coiled behind her legs. She turned her hands palm up in shock that she had missed somehow.

The others crawled forward to ring Zero. Zero stood still, eyes roaming the room.

As though by some unknown cue, they all attacked at once. Zero took a few more leaps back, crouched and, in a blinding flash, took off the first attacker’s head. It dropped to the ground like a stone, rolling, spraying blood.

She kept her crouch, moving in a slow circle, blade up and running red. The beasts followed her, their eyes intent and hungry, but now doubly cautious.

One darted to the side to try to go around and attack from behind. Zero’s whirled and the beast caught her sword between its teeth. The blade scraped out from between those teeth, sending out sparks. The monster squealed with pain and its tongue flopped onto the ground, twitching.

Zero shifted her weight to the other foot to face her next attacker, and threw all of it into a powerful thrust, piercing its chest. It fell back and she followed it over, landing on its body and yanking the blade out like Arthur pulling Excalibur out of a stone. She stood on her fallen enemy, cold and regal, daring the others to try something similar. The floor was painted red and so was she.

She was so close. Tom could feel himself tremble but he couldn’t feel the drool escaping his mouth. Every time she looked away from him, he wanted to pounce. His jaw worked, imagining those delicate bones crunching between his teeth. He knew this feeling because he’d felt it before. When… where?”

The images flashed through his head. The limp bodies of his parents in the front seat of the car. The feeling as his jaws closed on the pale flesh of his mother’s arm. It resisted his bite force for just a moment before it splintered. Then, a blinding pair of headlights, rushing towards them.

Denial rushed in on him. That wasn’t what happened. No, there was a car crash. It was a car crash! He staggered away from Zero.

He told himself it wasn’t true. His parents were dead after the car hit them, not before! The police. They kept asking him what happened. The car hit them.

The car hit them.

Tom collided against the wall, clutching his head. “I’m not a monster…”

The same car that hit his parents… hit his sister. She pushed him out of the way. It was the same car…

The image of Ru’Yi lying helpless on the floor flashed in his mind. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Ru’Yi.”

A voice, like a low snarl, began to overwhelm his senses. They were his thoughts but somehow they weren’t his thoughts. He could see the memories in his mind as clear as day. He recalled holding his sister’s body in the middle of a dark street. The police asked him what happened.

It was a car, he said.

The voice in his head echoed immediately.

It wasn’t a car.

Someone inside him who remembered the truth. His sister pushed him down because she was angry at him. He lashed out. He grabbed her by her ear. He tore it off.

He felt like he was standing in front of the mirror but that the reflection wasn’t him.

But it was him. He pushed Ru’Yi down. He attacked his sister. He attacked his parents.

Tom felt like he was waking from a dream. Every muscle in his body ached. The room stank of dragon blood. Zero stood over him. Behind her, all of the other test subjects lay dead or dying.

“You’ve passed.”

“There’s someone in me…” His voice trembled.

“Yes. But it’s leashed. Can you stand?”

“Stay away! I might hurt you!” He backed away and then he realized that his skin was pink, the claws were starting to recede.

“The fact that you can even say that is proof enough that you’re not dangerous.” She was still like a robot waiting for its next input from the user. “We just need to monitor you for a bit longer. Just to be safe.”

“We?”

The door opened and a woman entered, her long sandalwood hair waved down her back. Her crimson eyes looked at him, not at all bothered by the fact that he was naked and the room looked like a warzone.

Zero finally reached down and hauled him to his feet.

The woman held a clipboard in her thin arms. She wrote on it and then held it up.

“Follow me. I’ll show you to your room! ^_^”

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Ru'Yi #Class of 2032

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junionigiri · 5 years

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Vigilantes 65 - a quiet sort of sorrow :(

This chapter isn’t as action packed or as straightforward as the past chapters in showing sorrow. It’s more subtle and I think it’s artfully done because of it. It shows how a person can mourn over years and years and never mention anything about their pain through words, but through actions and decisions you know that they’re hurting. I think anyone who’s lost someone can find a little bit of themselves in how Aizawa (and to some extent, Mic) spent the years after Shirakumo T_T

For example, we see the beginnings of cocoon!Aizawa, something that becomes a popular personality quirk he has. I don’t know about you, but I never thought that this mannerism of his that makes him so endearing to a lot of fans is actually related to him losing Shirakumo? That it’s actually something he does primarily to isolate himself from his (understanding) friends and classmates, and not just because he’s tired all the time. An attempt for him to comfort himself, in some ways, something that Mic accepts without question :(

It’s not a healthy coping mechanism, but people are allowed to grieve for as long as they want, right?

But Aizawa does this for the rest of his stay in UA. It’s implied that instead of opening himself up to others in his class, he works himself to the bone so he can be strong enough on his own. Mic is the only one patient enough to hang around him consistently throughout the years, but we see from his facial expression that watching Aizawa like this causes him a lot of pain too. :(

(I have extra appreciation for him as a person. Aizawa is really lucky to have someone like him who’s always there for him no matter what T_T)

And now we see that his decision to become an underground hero who’ll function more as a bounty hunter than a standard pro-hero is really directly related to Shirakumo. To the credit of his homeroom teacher, they notice what’s happening with him pretty early but there’s nothing that they can do to change his mind :( Aizawa is resigned at this point to never work with anybody else, maybe because he can’t trust himself to take care of someone on the field being the way he is :(

And we see that throughout the following years, he’s much the same--relying on nobody else but himself. On the day of graduation, he’s already in his hero costume and didn’t even stay behind for the groupshot :(

This is the typical work-yourself-to-the-bone-to-forget-the-pain sort of montage we’re bound to see in dramas. To his credit, Aizawa becomes a good hero, but we aren’t ever sure from his flashbacks if he’s ever happy with what he’s doing :(

I like these lil snippets of his life here, it really paints quite a picture. We see him passed out in an empty apartment, not bothering with a bed but instead his sleeping bed; relying on juice packs, like we see him do as 1-A’s homeroom teacher; training by himself, walking in the city by himself... there are only two pics I see that has him interacting with people who want to interact with him, and that’s the bit with Ms. Joke (who he blatantly ignores), and of Koichi and Knuckleduster from their first meeting in the manga, which is nothing but an accident. I might have just missed it, but I don’t see a trace of Midnight or Mic in these bubbles, so it implies that these past few years he’s blatantly ignored the few people in his life that he called his friends :(

And this chapter is kinda cruel for showing us happier times again, because I think in the very heart of him, Aizawa really doesn’t want to be alone. :( That dream agency would have been so good, you guys. They were gonna live together and raise a cat together, ksadjfsajfa it sounds like a rom-com OT3 waiting to happen and instead we only have heartache and pain alskjfaslk;jfasl;fjsalkfjasfjkls this is so frustrating and sad T_T imagine what a different universe it could have been if Aizawa, Shirakumo, and Mic had that agency?! Really really different, 1-A woulda certainly been raised differently and Aizawa would have been brighter than he is right now. Well, only fic will tell.

We could have seen Aizawa happy :(

Well, the road to recovery is unpredictable. It always feels like forever, until it’s not, and all you can say about it is, oh, the rain’s stopped.

We’re shown Aizawa with his (first) foster kid and the cat, and we see cameos of the beloved Hotta guys again. I love that they’re actively involving Eraser in making plans for their new cafe when they were so begrudging at first to have him in his life. Eraser looks kind of surprised that he is, like “wait since when did i have friends again” when all he wanted was a place he could steal coffee from

Kudos to the Hotta dude for calling him a Hobo Spirit, because he has summarized the essence of Aizawa so succinctly

And it’s strange but it suddenly clicks with him that Aizawa doesn’t really need to be alone??? T_T Well, maybe it isn’t so much as a sudden click as something that he needs to constantly relearn by himself every day he works. We see that by the time he teaches the current 1-A that he still has his gloom and his tendency to solve things by himself, but he’s learning just as much as everyone else that we all need help too.

We see him pay attention to Midnight again--to her credit, she seems to be as patient as Mic is in handling his grief--and we see Today’s Sushi too T_T I suppose after this he finally agrees to be a teacher in UA and the rest is history

Agh... this is a lovely chapter all in all. It doesn’t answer our question about why this Aizawa arc is shown to us at this time though. Maybe it’s merely an explanation as to who Shirakumo is, because he’s mentioned in the main manga? Or maybe because we expect to see the effects of this event more in the future arcs or in the upcoming movie.??? I hope it’s the second one because I want to revisit this again, Aizawa is a great character and I want more stories about him T_T

But in Vigilantes, it’s time for a new arc!!! I wonder what’s gonna come up next! I can’t wait to see it!!!

#vigilantes spoilers #bnha spoilers #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #present mic #yamada hizashi #midnight #kayama nemuri #shirakumo oboro #loud cloud #sushi the cat #soft zawa #sadzawa #meta by juni #long post

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ochard-fics · 4 years

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Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3

Pronouns used: they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: Mild parental abuse

Word count: 10.4k+

Summary: Though you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most: Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and your crush.

A/N: Hello friends! First I would like to apologize for the delay of the third chapter. Several personal issues kept pilling on during these past few weeks which made it difficult for me to get the motivation to write. Hopefully this won’t happen again, as I was planning on getting a chapter out every 2-3 weeks. With that all said, please enjoy this latest installment! Likes, reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated!

Chapter 3: Pride, Prejudice, and Boba

When MJ and Ned arrived at school the following day, they were completely unprepared for the pettiness their two best friends were about to display towards the other. Both you and Peter refused to acknowledge the other’s existence, and when there were moments in the day that your eyes met they only showed daggers. The tension was suffocating for MJ and Ned, who were trying their hardest to advert their friend’s anger but it was to no avail. The both of you were sure that they didn’t do anything wrong, and that the other is the one to blame for their childish attitude. At one point MJ and Ned just had to give up, and they just had to sit back and watch as you and Peter seethed at each other throughout the day.

On Friday you awoke, groggy and disgruntled. The alarm had interrupted your much needed rest as you were working until 12 a.m. Additionally, you received an email from Ms. Lee, asking that you meet up with Peter again for your tutoring session. The e-mail left a sour taste in your mouth, which you could still feel as you recalled the message whilst getting dressed. Hopefully, the taste could go away with a nice breakfast.

As you headed downstairs, you noticed that your dad was at the dining table by the window, drinking his black cup of coffee while typing away on his laptop. You don’t say anything as you make your way to the fridge, grabbing the tub of cream cheese then snatching a bagel from the bread box on the counter beside it. You began to fix yourself a cream cheese bagel sandwich when your dad spoke up,

“What did you get on your chemistry quiz?” The butter knife you were using to cut the bagel froze in your hand, and you felt the sense of dread weigh over your shoulders again.

“I don’t know,” you lie, resuming your bagel cutting. There is silence, though you could feel his gaze on you, hoping to catch you off guard. In the past, whenever you failed an exam, you would’ve done everything to avoid telling your parents your true grade. It wasn’t an honest tactic, but you feared the wrath of your father if he were to know about your grades. And when he did find out, you had to hide in your room while he yelled insults behind the door. Thankfully, because of your fight regarding your wish to be less dependent on him, it’s been easier to evade his interrogation. Well, almost. You heard him let out a low grumble.

“I was told by your mom that Peter Parker is going to tutor you,” he speaks, “Your councilor called her to let her know.” You continued with your silence and focused on spreading the cream cheese on the bagel in a haste. You knew where he was going with this, and you wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible.

“It’s tragic that he has to be the one tutoring you,” he says with a sarcastic sigh, “If only you weren’t such a lazy brat it could’ve been the other way around. Yet you chose to waste your time fooling around when you should be studying to get to the top. I raised you better than that.” A lump formed in your throat and you tried to swallow it, despite the pain it caused. Instead of saying goodbye to him you instead grabbed the bagel and headed towards the front door, avoiding eye contact with him. When you grabbed your bag and headed out the door, you made sure to shut it with a slam.

The school day came and went with nothing interesting happening, though you and Peter were still giving each other the cold shoulder treatment. The e-mail Ms. Lee sent was still on your mind, though you were hoping that Peter wouldn’t fall through with her demands. This was not the case, though. As you were grabbing your sketchbook from your locker after your last period of the day, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and take it out only to find a text message from Peter.

Meet me at the library. It read. This made you let out an obnoxiously haughty scoff. There was absolutely no way in hell that you were going to see that stupid boy’s face. You knew if you had to see him again the first thing you’d do was swing a fist as his dumb rectangular face. Then, an idea lit up in your mind, making you smirk mischievously. Why should you have to listen to him? All he did was cause you trouble, and you didn’t need any more of that today. So instead of heading towards the locker, you turn your heals towards the entrance of the school. Making sure to look around for any sign of Peter or Ms. Lee, you blended into the crowd of students pouring out of the school, and made your way towards the nearest subway station.

You trudged your way up the exit of the musty-smelling subway station, where you found yourself stepping into NYC’s colorful Chinatown district. This was one of your favorite places to go in Manhattan. Every time you come here (which was very often), you get mesmerized by the aroma from the restaurants, large, bright signs written in Cantonese or Mandarin, and the soundtrack of shop owners offering their wares to anyone passing by them. Despite your parents wanting to actively avoid the area, you absolutely loved it. Plus, it was the home of the best boba tea in NYC.

Weaving through the bustling market area, where sellers were shouting deals in their native tongues as well as English, you made your way to your favorite boba tea joint in the district. It was tucked into a small, secretive courtyard away from the craziness of the main street, where it was inhabited by humble mom-and-pop shops that were nestled under apartment buildings. Just as you entered the alleyway, your phone vibrated. Pulling it out of your green sweatshirt pocket, you saw another test message from Parker, though this one was much more passive-aggressive than the one he had sent you before. You rolled your eyes and angrily shoved your cracked phone back in the pocket, adamant about ignoring your responsibilities today.

You finally made it to Hi-Tea, the boba shop that you have been frequenting ever since you moved to New York. It was a small hole-in-the-wall establishment that you had found on a whim while you and your mom were exploring Chinatown upon your first week arriving in the state. Your mom found the place tacky, but you thought that it’s pastel color palette was quite charming. The glass doors leading you into the shop would always be painted every week to promote the flavor of the week, which you thought was really smart on their end. You practically came here once a week, sometimes twice if you were having an especially bad day. So, because of your frequent visits, you became friendly towards the staff that worked there, in particular Grace and Frankie.

Both of them were in college, though Grace was older than Frankie by a year. Grace was much more outgoing and bubbly than Frankie, who was more reserved and soft spoken. Though you were also pretty shy around strangers, especially college kids, your recurring presence and Grace’s naturally charming personality allowed you to warm up to the two young adults. To your pleasure, you saw from the store’s front window that both of them were occupying the shop today. You excitingly scamper to the door, where upon opening it, the petite golden bells tied to the top alerting the two employees of your presence. They turn to look up and when they both spot you, Grace breaks out into a smile.

“Hey there (Y/N)!” Grace cheerfully greets you as she’s adjusting her cat themed enamel pins on her pastel green apron, “It’s so good to see you! Are you here for your usual? Brown sugar bubble tea with oat milk?” Yeah, you knew that boba was called bubble tea here on the East coast, but because you were an arrogant Angeleno you still referred to the tasty tapioca balls as boba, much to the annoyance of your fellow MSST classmates. You scrunch up your face in thought comically and stroked your chin, earning a giggle from Grace. Upon briefly scanning the menu that was placed on the counter with your eyes, you say “Could I have a jasmine milk tea today?”

“Of course!” she cheerfully exclaims. As she gets to placing your order, her expression changes as if something occurred to her. She looks up at you and asks,

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work today?”

“I can’t work on Fridays anymore,” you reply in a huff.

“Huh? Why not?” she asks, a curious expression upon her face. You began to tell her all that had happened the past few days; meeting with your counselor, her forcing you to be tutored by the one person you despise, and you getting into a very heated verbal fight with said person. Then you told her that because of the circumstances revolving around the tutoring, you were forced to cut your Friday work hours to accommodate to your councilors demands, much to your chagrin. Frankie, who was listening in on the conversation as he was cleaning up the drink assembly station, looks to you and asks,

“Wait, then aren’t you supposed to be at school right now?” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but I decided, fuck it!” you cried and shrugged with raised arms, “I had a shitty past two days! I should treat myself!” Grace and Frankie look over at each other, exchanging expressions of concern and disapproval.

“So,” Grace looks back at you, raising a brow, “you ditched your tutor?”

“Yeah, but I don’t give a shit,” you reply, waving your hand dismissively, “It’s what he gets for being a prick.”

“Still, don’t you think that’s kind of rude?” Frankie questions as he walks to the counter to join in on the conversation, “I mean, I know you guys fought, but can’t you come to some sort of truce?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Frankie’s absurd suggestion.

“Please, I’d rather jump off the Empire State than apologize to that shitbag,” you brashly say, rummaging through your backpack as you looked for your wallet, “No way would I say sorry to someone who constantly makes my life a living hell.” Grace and Frankie looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

“But...what if he catches you ditching?” Grace asks as she looks back at you, dismayed.

“There’s no way he can catch me,” you reply with a cheeky smirk, handing over the due amount for the boba to Winnie, “And even if he did, what’s he going to do? Drag me back to school?” To this you let out a short laugh, though Frankie and Grace didn’t seem to find this amusing. Frankie gives you one last judgemental look but says nothing, then goes to work on your order. Winnie opened her mouth to say something but then closed it, deciding it was pointless to get you to see the wrong in your doing. She takes the amount and gives you back the change, though you drop it in the tip jar for them. You moved to wait patiently by the pick-up section of the store, and in just about two minutes Frankie presented you with your drink. You took it excitingly and bid goodbye to the two young adults before heading back outside into the courtyard. A vibration from your phone rumbled in your jacket pocket, so you took it out again to see yet another text from penis Parker.

Where are you? It read, You need to get here now or else. You narrowed your eyes at the text as you read it again, then let out a pretentious scoff. What the hell, was he trying to threaten you now? Little shit was getting a bit too confident! You shoved your phone back into your pocket and focused back on your chilled treat. Just as you were about to stab the plastic cover with the straw, something from above grabbed at the drink and yanked it right out of your hand. Bewildered, you looked at your hand then around your surroundings.

“Shouldn’t you be at school right now?” a voice called out to you. You looked around until your eyes wandered up then widened. Spider-man was casually sitting on the edge of a fire escape, looking down at you with your boba tea in his hand

“You can’t drink that without the straw, you know,” you say loudly, holding up the straw. Suddenly, a web sling shoots at your hand and recoils back to its sender, who thanks you with a nod.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, stabbing the top of your drink with the straw, “You’re supposed to be at school right now, right?”

“N-no,” you said, looking away from him.

“Really?” he holds up your beverage and looks at it, “Because Delmar told me you moved your Friday shifts to Thursday since you had a study date with Peter Parker today.” Gosh damn Delmar and his blabbermouth, now you were caught in the act! You shoved your hands in your jacket pocket and continued to look at everything around you but him.

“Care to tell me why you’re near the Lower East Side instead?” he asks, looking down at you. His tone sounded much less playful than usual, making you feel uneasy.

“I-,” you were flustered, unsure of what excuse to come up with on the spot. Then, you looked up at him, brows furrowed and ask,

“W-why are you so concerned?”

“I’m concerned because you ditched someone, which, by the way, is a pretty shit thing to do.” he replies cooly. You then watch as he lifts his mask up to his nose and takes a sip of your drink. At this moment you realized that this was the first time you had ever seen any part of Spider-man unveiled. Though you wished that he wasn’t high up, as the angle made it a bit hard for you to see much of his features. “Mmm, is this jasmine tea? I like the aftertaste. Very floral.”

“Did you steal my boba so you could lecture me?” You loudly ask him and you put your hands on your hips.

“Not necessarily,” he says with a shrug, taking another sip of your drink, “Though the bubble tea is a nice bonus treat.”

“Why does my personal life concern you?” you said, crossing your arms, “This is between me and that dumbfuck. And that dumbfuck deserves to get his ass ditched.”

“That ‘dumbfuck’ is willing to help you out,” he simply says, then takes another sip, “By the way, I think you’re being a little harsh with those insults of yours.”

“Not my fault I tell it like it is,” you snap back, “He’s just wasting my time and his! I don’t need his help, or anyone’s! Plus, he has no idea how to tutor anyone! You should’ve seen how irritable he was!”

“Well, it’s his first time tutoring, right?” he asks you, “Maybe you need to cut him some slack. He means well.” To this you let out a short, cynical laugh.

“So what? He’s supposed to be the smartest kid in our grade!” you cry “It isn’t rocket science; it should be easy for him! Just like everything else is!”

“Have you ever tutored someone before?” he inquires, looking down at you. You didn’t respond. Instead, you ask him,

“What’s your deal with defending him, anyway?”

“Because you’re being unfair to someone who’s trying to help you,” he replies, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous claim.

“Help me?!” you shout out passively, “He does nothing but make my life miserable! I don’t want his help!”

“You need it whether you like it or not,” he says sternly, which you found was very out of character for him, “Just like that time I saved you from getting hit by that taxi.” The anger that was boiling inside of you was reaching its peak. All rational thoughts were replaced with the need to defend your ego. And when your ego got involved, it brought out the worst in you

“I didn’t ask for your help!” you spat back out of anger.

“So what should I have done?!” he angrily shouts back, “Let you get killed?!”

“Maybe!” you roar back, your voice echoing within the courtyard. A heavy silence hung in the air, as the two of you glared at each other, a familiar setting to Wednesday. Your fists were clenched so tightly you could feel your shoulders strain. Finally, the masked hero lets out an irritated scoff.

“Fine, if you don’t like my help,” he stands up from the railing of the balcony, “Don’t ever expect it again.” You felt your heart drop into your stomach, regret immediately sweeping into your senses. You just fucked up big time. You wanted to shout back an apology, but before you could he shoots a web sling at a nearby building and begins to swing. You ran after him, calling out to him in anguish, but he was much too fast. Soon you found yourself back in the middle of Chinatown, desperately looking around for Spider-man as he disappeared into the city, leaving you guilt-ridden and ashamed.

Misery plagued your emotions for the rest of your Friday through Sunday. All you could do was wallow in your sorrow over pissing off your crush. You couldn’t feel more humiliated!

You wondered, though if you were being as unreasonable as Spider-man claimed. Of course not! you think countering yourself. That little twerp always acts like he’s the best at everything and constantly rubs it in your face! Well, not literally, but it happens when he gets the highest exam scores, when he wins first prize at the school’s annual science fair, and when he boasts about how he’s working for Stark! Ugh, he just pisses you off!

It annoyed you how enamored your parents were by his success. Why couldn’t they set the bar lower, like comparing you to Flash! You’d at least beat him! But no, it’s always Peter. “If you studied harder, you’d be at the same level as Peter!”, “I bet Peter gets straight A’s in all of his classes!”, “You should pick a more practical major, like Peter!”. The constant praise they give him in contrast to the scolding you received only fueled your hatred for him. And Spider-man knew this! You had expressed your dismay with your classmate several times since you met him so it only made you more upset that he decided to defend Peter!

Yet you still felt guilty about snapping at him so harshly. Not only did you ruin your friendship with him, but all chance of finding out who his true identity was! Now you were never going to see him again! It took all the willpower you had in you to resist slamming your head against a wall. This regret was consuming you alive, so in order to relieve yourself of it, you turned to MJ for advice.

On Sunday you related to her the past two days as well as your emotional roller coaster while watching Pride and Prejudice through facetime together (the 2005 version, though MJ was very vocal about the historical inaccuracies of the costumes, but you didn’t care because Kiera Knightly was so damn good looking in this). She listened to you intently as she watched you explain everything, and as you wrapped up she leaned back onto her bed frame, taking all of this in.

“Well, that’s...something,” she finally says after a long pause, “You managed to piss off Spider-man...that’s pretty incredible.”

“Now isn’t the time to be sarcastic, MJ!” you cry out as you hang your head in shame. MJ was the only person you had confined to about your friendship with the blue and red hero of Queens, as well as your harboring feelings for him. MJ teases you about it every now and then, but she overall has kept her word of secrecy on the matter, which you greatly appreciated.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she continues, “But I think he had a point about Peter. Listen, I love to poke fun at that little white boy, but you take it to a whole other level.” This makes you frown in response.

“He deserves it,” you mumble back, but just loud enough for her to hear. Now it was her turn to frown.

“Does he?” she asks you, “I can’t believe I’m taking his side, but Peter’s hasn’t done anything wrong. I think your jealousy is taking things out of context.”

“I’m not jealous of him!” you claim, “Why should I be!? I don’t want to be a stupid science nerd like him.”

“I’m a science nerd,” MJ points out, “So is Ned. Are we stupid?”

“You’re different,” you retort back if a huff, “You’re cool and weird but in a good way.”

“As I should be,” she replies with a shrug, “But I still think that you have been a bit too hard on him. Which is kind of funny, because I remember that you had a crush on him.”

“T-That was in the beginning of the year!” you hastily quip back, feeling your cheeks flush up out of embarrassment, “That was before he started getting on my nerves!” It’s true, the first time you had met Peter, you were at a game shop with your mom buying a console. It was the first week since you moved from Los Angeles to Queens, and the both of you were still trying to navigate the city. To make you feel better about the move, your mom promised to buy you a console that had just been released which you had your eye on ever since it was announced.

When you were in the game shop, you noticed him with Ned, who was accompanying him. The two of them were gushing over the release of a new Star Wars video game which had just been released recently. His smile was the first thing that attracted you. It really lit up his whole face so nicely that you couldn’t help but blush. Then you remembered the horror you felt when your overly extroverted mother approached them and started sparking up a conversation with them (her excuse was that they seemed to be about your age, which she wasn’t wrong about, but it seemed a bit unnecessary!). Peter then noticed you, awkwardly standing a few feet behind your mom with a bag of cupcakes that she had gotten from the city’s famous cupcake shop. He and Ned introduced themselves to you, and the kind smile he gave to you made your heart jump.

The memory made you frown. Now you just felt embarrassed for having a crush on him. Yet again, you didn’t expect that you would be attending the same school, where you found out just how incredibly talented he was. It impressed you in the beginning, as soon as your parents got wind of the bright young boy with the Stark internship, it all blew up in your face. Watching you reminisce upon this, MJ asks you,

“You sure you still don’t have a crush on him?” You answer with a profound and loud no, which MJ interprets as a good time to drop the subject. So decided to get back on track.

“You’re going to hate me for suggesting this,” MJ says, then takes a bite at a pretzel stick from the bowl she had beside her, “But I think you should apologize to Peter.”

“WHAT?” you shout so loud that the crows in the tree out in the backyard were startled.

“Here me out,” MJ begins, her hands held up in defense, “You feel guilty about yelling at Spider-man, right?” You reply with a nod.

“Well, wasn’t the reason why he was upset with you was because you ditched Peter? Maybe if you apologize to Peter, Spider-man could forgive you.”

“I don’t need to apologize to him!” you retort, crossing your arms in a huff.

“Even if you don’t want to, you should,” she replies, taking another bite of a pretzel stick, “It’s that or you never see your Spider-boyfriend again.” This makes you frown out of dissatisfaction, and you ask her,

“How would Spider-man even know that I apologized to him?!”

“Doesn’t Peter work at Stark? I remember him mentioning that he and Spider-man were buds. You could ask Peter if you could talk to Spider-man.” she answers. Though you doubted the possibility of this happening, MJ might not be wrong. If what she’s saying is true then that means if you apologized to Peter then you could make up with Spider-man!

“How do I make up with Peter?” you ask her with a determined look on your face. MJ smirks in satisfaction, pleased to have gotten to you. She tells you,

“First you admit what a big dingus you’ve been towards him.” This makes your frown, much to the amusement of your friend. She continues,

“Then you should get to know him better, not as who you think he is, but for who he really is.” You frown in thought.

“Look at Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s relationship, for example,” she suggests, “At first she judges him based on her assumptions about him. She thinks he’s stuck up, cold, rude, and selfish, which leads her to probably one of the best roasts in literary history. Though it turns out that he’s just very socially awkward and that she was misled by false information about him.”

“What’chya getting at?” you ask her, suspicious of her ramblings

“Well, maybe like Elizabeth, you’re letting your pride misjudge Peter.” she proposes.

“Maybe my pride is correct.” you say firmly.

“God, you are so stubborn!” MJ groans, “Do you want to see Spider-man or not?!” This makes you shut your mouth, and you allow her to continue.

“Okay,” she lets out a huff, “Whether you’re right or wrong, taking the time to get to know Peter will benefit you. You could learn a lot about him. And who knows? Maybe you can find out something about Spider-man, too?” This peaks your interest. Could she be right about that? You had no idea how close Spider-man and Peter were, but the tutoring lessons could be helpful in trying to use Peter to figure out who the masked hero was. It sounded sleazy, but it felt like good motivation to make up with him.

“Tomorrow, as soon as you get to school, talk to him privately and apologize to him,” she tells you, “And sound like you mean it, even if you don’t.” You let out a groan. It was annoying that you had to make up with him, but with MJ’s suggestion (and your grade on the line) you knew you were out of options. It was either suck it up and go with it or fail your classes and lose the potential freedom from your parents. As you and MJ continued to watch the movie, you could yourself ponder over your first feelings towards Peter again.

The next day at school you arrived early in order to locate Peter. The weather had chilled considerably, so today you dawned your red down coat that was perfect for the cool, overcast morning. You hustled yourself quickly to the lockers, hoping to catch Ned and Peter. Instead, you spotted Ms. Lee by your locker, staring down at you from across the hallway. His made you immediately stop you in your tracks, a cold sweat rushing throughout your body. She beckoned you to come towards her, to which you sheepishly complied. By the sour look on her face, you could tell you were in deep shit. She greets you with a cross-sounding “Good morning”, which you meekly wished her one as well.

“Mr. Fill informed me that you didn’t show up to meet with Peter on Friday,” she tells you, “I was also told that you two also made quite the scene on Wednesday. Would you care to tell me what happened?” You gulped. There was no way you could fabricate a response believable enough for her to take right now. She was visibly upset with you, and you could feel it weigh you down. The right thing to do was to tell the truth, but you were horrified by what would come out of that (see: your parent’s reaction). As you struggled to come up with a response, you didn’t notice that someone was approaching the two of you.

“Hey (Y/N)!” a familiar voice called out to you. You turned about to see who it belonged to and were very shocked to see a cheery Peter Parker walking up to you.

“You left this at my place on Friday,” he hands you a blue spiral bound notebook, which you take with utter confusion. Ms. Lee shared your perplexed expression as well, looking at the teen boy with a raised brow.

“Good morning Mr. Parker,” she greets him, regaining her authoritative aura, “I was just asking (Y/N) about your study session on Friday. Mr. Fill told me that while you were at the library on Friday, (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen. Did this have something to do with your bickering on Wednesday?” You looked over at Peter, wide-eyed with terror at what he would say. Knowing him, he was probably going to use this to his advantage and throw you under the bus-

“Oh, right!” he snaps his fingers as if he remembered something, then turns to Ms. Lee, “(Y/N) texted me the day before and said that the library was too distracting for them. So we agreed that we would study at my place from now on. For some reason I forgot about that and was waiting for them until I remembered! It’s my bad, Ms. Lee.”

…Huh?

There was no way you were hearing this right now. Was Peter covering for you? Was this a prank? It had to be, right?! You sneaked a pinch on yourself and surely enough, this was all happening in real time. While you were busy being confused by your current reality, Ms. Lee and Peter continued conversing.

“I see,” she says, though she sounded suspicious, “And I presume you two made up?”

“Of course!” he replies gleefully, giving you a nudge to help him sell the lie. You snap out of your confusion and give her a hasty nod.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to work things out,” she says with a pleased smile, then turns to you, “I do think it’s better for you to work in a more personal setting than a public one. And if it works, then who am I to complain.” She then bids you two a good day, where you and Peter both watch her walk down the hall. Just as she was out of earshot, you decided that this would be the perfect chance to apologize to him.

“Peter,” you quickly turned to him, “I-”

“Meet me at the football bleachers during break,” he cuts you off coolly, still looking towards the hall, “We need to talk.” The first warning bell chimes throughout the school, and the hall begins to bustle with high schoolers desperate to make it to their first period on time. So he leaves you alone, perplexed with all that just occurred and anxious for what’s to come during break.

As soon as biology wrapped up, you sprinted past some students towards MSST’s football field. The chilled air hit you as soon as you opened the doors to the field , tickling your cheeks. You jogged across the football field, where students were spending their break tossing playing catch, jogging around the field, or just sitting on the grass and chatting. Halfway into your jog you spotted Peter, who was sitting in the mid-section of the bleachers. You hurried yourself towards his direction quickly, the anticipation clenching your stomach. He notices you and gives you a surprised look.

Guess he didn’t expect me to show up, you think to yourself as you trudge up the metal bleachers. You finally reached him and sat beside him (leaving space between the two of you, of course) in a huff. There was silence at first, besides the sounds of the schoolyard. You wondered if you should speak up first, but for some reason you couldn’t think of anything to say. The cold air made you shove your hands in your pockets, and you look towards him, where he continued to look out to the field, a very serious expression plastered across his face. This was the first time you had ever seen the awkwardly goofy Peter Parker look so stern, and though you would usually find pleasure in seeing him so pissed, it actually scared you a little. After what felt like an eternity, Peter finally spoke up,

“You have a real shit attitude, you know.” The cool bluntness takes you by surprise. In all of the months you have bullied Peter, this was the first time he has ever cussed at you. You wondered how long he’s been waiting to do that. He exhales a long, controlled breath and continues to talk,

“I would love to know what I did for you to hate me so much. Because last time I checked, I’ve been nothing but nice to you since you moved here. Was it something I said? Something I did?!” He turns to you, his glare piercing through your soul as he waits for a response. You opened your mouth, but words evaded you. For the first time Peter has left you speechless. The cockiness you usually had towards him was nowhere to be found. No snarky comeback, no rolling of the eyes, all you could do was gape at him. Peter, seeing that you weren’t answering, turns back to look at the field and continue speaking,

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think this is going to work out. Us working together. I’m going to talk to Ms. Lee and see if she can set you up with someone else.” Shit, this wasn’t good! You were going to lose your chance at apologizing to Spider-man! You had to do something, quick!

“No!” you reply with a shout, grabbing his arm out of impulse. The shout was a little too loud as it echoes throughout the field, catching the attention of everyone there. He looks at you, startled by both the shout and the grip. Noticing the eyes turned to you and Peter, a blush flushing your cheeks. You immediately retreat your hand as students went back to minding their own business, then take a breath to control yourself.

“I-I mean,” you looked at him, sheepishly. Come on, (Y/N), it’s now or never!

“I’m sorry.” you say.

To say Peter was shocked was an understatement. He gave you the most puzzled you have ever seen anyone give you, and who could blame him? An apology from you wasn’t what he was expecting from you. He thought the most you would do was scoff and walk away, unbothered, so now he was caught off guard.

“I’m sorry for being such a huge asshole on Wednesday” you continue, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes, “And for ditching you on Friday. It was uncalled for. I should’ve talked to you instead of ignoring you.”

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “I still want to work with you. Please forgive me.” There was silence yet again, and you could see that Peter was still processing your apology. You look at him, concerned and wondering if he was malfunctioning because he hadn’t said a word. He finally lets out an exhale, and you felt relieved that you hadn’t short circuited him. Finally, he says,

“Okay, I forgive you.” he says. You blink in surprise.

“What?” you say.

“I forgive you,” he repeats, amused by your reaction. Though today was just full of unexpected surprises, you felt a sense of relief from his words. However, a sense of guilt sat in your stomach, remembering that you were doing this for your own personal gain.

As long as he doesn’t find out, you have nothing to worry about, you convince yourself, though the feeling didn’t go away.

“Though if we’re going to continue working together, I suggest we make my lie a reality.” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask him quizzically.

“I mean that you actually come over and study at my place.” he says. You widen your eyes in surprise. Was he being serious?! It was impressive that he wanted to be so committed to his fabricated tale, but didn’t this seem like a little much?

“A-are you sure?” you ask, perplexed by the idea. He nods.

“I am,” he says, “My aunt wouldn’t mind. She likes the company, anyway.” You take a minute to think this through. Going to Peter’s place would mean you were going to spend much more time with him, considering the travel time from Midtown to Queens. And there would be no doubt that Flash would catch you two together and relentlessly tease you for being with his rival. However, being at his place means that you could get one step closer to finding out more about Spider-man. This was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse. You decided to take up his proposal.

“I’m in.” you finally tell him.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands, “Because if Ms. Lee found out I lied to her we’re dead meat.”

“Let’s shake on it,” you tell him, then hold your hand out towards him. You wait for him to take it, but instead he says,

“I want you to promise that you’re not going to ditch me again,” he says, “I’m doing this to help you pass.” This pinches you in the gut. The guilt you had felt before returned, making you second guess the sincerity of your actions. Why is he taking this so seriously, you wondered, does he really care about whether or not you pass? What benefit is he getting out of this. You didn’t have time to ponder this, so you shook off the thoughts and sincerely say,

“I promise.” Peter watches you, looking for any signs of feigning, but you held yourself up long enough for him to finally take your hand. You give each other a firm shake, settling on your agreement. As you pull your hands away from each other, you remember something.

“Oh, I should give this back to you.” you say to him as you grab your backpack. He watches as you rummage through it, your eyes lighting up when you finally locate it. You pull out the blue spiral-bound notebook he had given you in the morning.

“I think you’ll need this,” you say, holding out the notebook to him.

“Oh, thanks, I need this,” he says, taking it from your hands, “U-um, so do you want to meet up Wednesday after school?”

“Sure.” you say, giving him an awkward smile, to which he returns. Good, now your plan can kick off. All you had to do now was get through studying with Peter. Maybe MJ is right, it might not be all that bad. As the bell rang the two of you headed to your next class together, though the both of you were unaware that a folded slip of paper from Peter’s notebook was not sitting at the bottom of your backpack.

On Wednesday, you were waiting at the school’s front gate, as you promised. The chilled weather made you bury yourself into your coat, and you just hoped Peter would get out soon. He told you via text that he had to grab something from the chemistry room, and though you offered to wait for him by the classroom he insisted you waited for him outside. Watching students pass by, you began to wonder about Peter’s aunt. You had never seen her before, but MJ told you that she was very pretty and was very protective of her nephew. You then realized that Peter has definitely talked to her about you, and now you were beginning to grow anxious. You wouldn’t blame her for wanting to take you down for being a shithead to her nephew, but you obviously didn’t want to deal with her wrath. You could only hope that she wouldn’t be at home so you could be spared.

A tap on your shoulder breaks you from your thoughts and you look to see who touched you, only to be facing Peter.

“Ready to head out?” he asks you, motioning his head towards the closest subway station entrance. You nod, so the two of you begin to make your way towards Queens.

The two of you didn’t talk as you headed down to the subway station, and upon entering the car you grimaced over how it was practically full of people. The next train wouldn’t be until twenty minutes though, so the both of you squeezed your way into the crowd. The both of you were practically shoulder to shoulder, with you gripping the nearest stabilizing pole and Peter keeping himself up with the rail above him. Being so close to him made you feel so uncomfortable from the awkwardness, and you tried your best to avoid eye contact with him as you guys rode. That would only last so long, though. Halfway through the ride you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Foolishly, you let go of the pole to retrieve it, but you didn’t realize that you were reaching another stop. The cart began to halt, the force of it all making you lose your footing. You tried to re-stabilize yourself but you felt your body fall backward, making you let out a scared yelp. Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your waist, stopping you from falling on top of the surrounding passengers. You turn and see it was Peter who had caught you. He pulls you back up and tugs you near him, making you even closer to him than before.

“Are you okay?” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned. Still dazed from the catch, you nod back and straighten yourself up. You realized that this is the closest you have ever been to Peter, and he seemed to recognize this revelation two and the two of you were stuck in this position for what felt like eternity. He suddenly realizes that he’s still got his arm around your waist, and he immediately retracts it, and you noticed that his cheeks were a slight tint of pink. You took a small step away from him to grab the pole again, and for the remainder of the ride the two of you avoided eye contact.

Soon the stop to Queens approached, and the two of you hopped out of the train car. You followed Peter closely as he navigated through the bustling Queens and eventually got to his apartment complex. Like all the buildings in the area, it was much smaller in size compared to the giants in Manhattan (though you didn’t mind; tall buildings weren’t your favorite thing). After he buzzed in, he let you inside of the complex, and like a duckling you followed him up two flights of stairs and into the second story hallway. Soon you were watching him as he approached a eggshell-\colored door with the numbers 205 plated in bronze above the peephole. He grabs his keys and puts them into the worn door handle, and with a twist and a click he pushes the door open and enters his apartment, where you slowly but carefully enter in suit.

While taking off your shoes you gazed around the space, which was small but it didn’t feel cramped. Peter leads you to the dining area, which was connected to both the kitchen and the living room. Upon the table were several papers and letters, to which Peter apologizes for and quickly gathers up the mess to make space for both of your study materials. Once it was clear of it’s chaos, you slink yourself into the bench situating your bag to left as he sits himself on the right side of the table.

“My aunt May told me she’ll be working late today, so don’t worry about any distractions,” he tells you, pulling his backpack beside him. This makes you internally exhale in relief. He goes into good host mode, offering you snacks and water but you declined it politely since you felt weirded out by your rival trying to be nice to you. The both of you shift uncomfortably in your seats, waiting for the other to speak up so the tension could be broken. Peter, always trying his best, decides to start,

“O-okay! Let’s get started! Um…” He looks at you as he begins to fiddle with his hands nervously, “We can work on inter-molecular forces! Or maybe we should go back to the basics and review atoms and ions? O-or look over the periodic table?” You could tell by his body language that he was trying to be careful with your words, considering how you reacted last time. Though you were slightly amused by how hard he was trying, it did make you feel a bit bad for your reaction last week. You were starting to reconsider what Spider-man had said. You realized that you should probably respond before he throws out more suggestions, so you say,

“Can we work on the quiz from last week? I mean, we got it back today, so maybe it’ll be good to look over it.” Peter was quite surprised by your input, and immediately you feared that you had said something wrong. Expecting to receive some sort of snarky comment, you were amazed when he smiles and agrees,

“Y-yeah! S-sounds good!”

It was quite embarrassing for you to see him look at the 19% grade that was scribbled in bright red on your quiz, while he gloated a proud 100%. Without thinking you made a stank face, until Peter pointed it out while he was looking over your quiz answers. You immediately dropped it, feeling embarrassed at getting caught, though you could help but stare at his perfect grade. For you, it was rare to see those triple digits on your assignments and tests, and when you were gifted with that lucky gem you felt invincible. Is that what Peter feels whenever he gets his scores back, or is it so common for him that he just shrugs it off? Before you could sink into your thoughts even more, Peter flips the quiz back to the front page and looks up at you.

“You didn’t finish the quiz?” he asks you, a brow raised, “Did something happen?” Immediately you felt ashamed, but you tried to hold your ground, not wanting to expose it to Peter. Instead, you say with attitude,

“Why’s that a problem? I just didn’t finish it. Happens to the best of us.” Peter gives you a look, not being fooled by your act.

“Did you run out of time?” he asks you. You didn’t respond, but instead looked away from him, which gave him confirmation.

“I noticed you got stuck on question three, and I get it, I had a though time with that one, too.” he tells you, looking back at the question.

“Don’t try to humble yourself.” you quip back.

“I’m not!” he cries, “Really!” You look at him as you’re not convinced, making Peter sigh in defeat.

“Look, why don’t we just go over this question and the ones you didn’t answer? Then I can get a better read on what’s troubling you with this subject.” You made a small groan, but reluctantly agreed to the proposal, and for the next two hours the two of you went through the quiz. Unlike last time, where he was just talking you ear off, Peter instructed you to write down notes and even re-do the questions, which actually turned out to be much more helpful to you. A few times Peter had to coax questions out of you, which was probably the hardest thing for you to do since you feared ridicule over what you asked. However, Peter didn’t find them ridiculous at all, and would even provide a simpler, straight to the point answer that was much easier to comprehend than Mr. Cobwell’s complex ones. After what felt like forever, the both of you were beginning to exhibit signs of burnout. Peter caught onto this after he watched you stare at your notebook in a daze.

“Let’s call it a day,” he suggests, stretching his arms out to relieve the tension built in them.

“Yes, please,” you mumble, blinking hard as your eyes were tiring out, “I think my brain is going to fry up if I look at another molecular equation.” While you were packing your stuff up, you looked out the window beside you and noticed that it’s already getting dark outside. You wondered if you’ll be back home in time for dinner. Not that you were anticipating it, anyway. The sound of keys being inserted into the apartment alarm the two of you. You and Peter look at the door, which opens to reveal a very beautiful middle aged woman, and you could help but gape at her aura.

“Hiya Pete!” she happily exclaims as she takes off her jacket and hands it up on the hooks next to the door, “So sorry for being late, the manager had me sweep before I clocked out.” Realization hits you like a brick. She’s Peter's aunt?! Well, MJ wasn’t wrong about her looks, but you were not expecting her to be this attractive. It seems like she could feel your eyes on her, because she immediately takes notice of you.

“Pete, who is this?” she asks, pointing to you. You feel your body freeze, remembering that you were most likely going to meet your maker when she finds out who you are.

“Oh, this is (Y/N),” Peter says, pointing his thumb to you, “The classmate I’m tutoring, remember? They moved from California last summer?” Out of fear you forced yourself to stand up straight and gave her a small, shy wave.

“I-it’s nice to meet you, M-ms. Parker!” you stutter sheepishly. May took a second to remember your name, and when she recognizes her eyes light up in surprise. She looks over at you, then to Peter. May raises her brows at Peter as asks him,

“Are they…?” To which Peter nods in response. You watched anxiously have their silent conversation, trying to decipher what on earth they were talking about. Was it about the bullying? Crud, you were going to be in deep shit! You glanced at the door, thinking that you should just book it, until May’s expression melts and is replaced with a bright, welcoming smile.

“Oh! You’re (Y/N)!” his aunt exclaimed with delight, then immediately makes a b line up to you, “You’re the one that works at Delmar’s, right?! Peter has told me so much about you!”

“R-really?!” you expressed with confusion.

“Oh don’t worry, nothing bad,” she assures you, waving her hand dismissively, “Actually, quite the opposite!” This makes you turn to Peter, where you give him the most perplexed look you could give a person. Did Peter not tell his aunt about how you’ve treated him? If not, why would he withhold this information from her? Peter reads your expression, but instead of saying anything he looks the other way and rubs the back of his neck. Okay, you needed to ask him about this another time.

“I was just about to invite Peter out for some Thai food!” she tells you, “Would you like to come with us?” Though you were flattered by the invitation, you felt like it wouldn’t be a good idea to tag along, so you say

“I think I should head home. I don’t want to overstay my wel-'' Before you could finish, an incredibly loud gargle emitted from your stomach. You blushed, horrified and betrayed by your own stomach, as Peter stifled a laugh. You give him a glare, making him shut up, which May finds very amusing.

It seems like every other day the world kept challenging your expectations.

Who would’ve guessed that you would be spending your Wednesday evening dining with your rival and his aunt at their favorite Thai restaurant located five minutes away from them? MJ was going to have a field day when you tell her this tomorrow. Well, at least this was better than eating at home, you thought to yourself. You and Peter were seated beside each other, while his aunt sat across from her nephew. The three of you were helping yourselves with servings of the sour and spicy tom yum soup, the sweet but flaming yellow curry, and juicy larb lettuce wraps (Peter’s favorite, or so his aunt claims).

“I’m so glad your mother agreed to let me take you out for dinner, dear,” May says with a smile, “I can finally get to know you a little better!”

“U-um, yeah. I’m kind of surprised she let me come.” you admit to her, then take a sip of your serving of soup.

“Why is that?” she asks you. It would be awkward to admit to her that you kind of expected your mom to make you come home to eat, which would have saved you from this very odd situation you got yourself into. On the other hand, it did save you from having to spend dinner with your parents. It was a strange blessing in disguise.

“My mom is usually strict about me going out with people she hasn’t met before.” you tell her, which was true. Your mom has always been adamant about meeting people you hang out with, though you usually tried to avoid such as she is pretty judgemental about other people. Thankfully, you have been able to save MJ from her unfair shrewdness. It also explains why you never mentioned to her about your acquaintance with Spider-man, as you knew she’d have a handful of shit to say about him. To you, the more you had your parents out of your personal life, the more at peace you were.

“I can understand why,” May says after she swallows her bite of yellow curry, “Especially since you guys are still new to the area. New York is full of wacky characters, after all. Wouldn’t want you to get mixed up with the wrong kinds of people.” You take a glance at Peter, who hasn’t said much during the conversation, instead carefully watching the two of you as he munches down some larb.

“So Peter told me you work at Delmar’s,” she says, “Why is someone as young as you working for him? Especially during junior year?”

“Oh, I wanted to earn some extra cash,” you explain to her, “I want to be more financially independent, you know? So I was looking at other service and retail jobs, however the ones that had openings were full time or had a strict part time arrangement, which wouldn’t work out for school. But Delmar was nice enough to be compliant with my school schedule, so he took me in.”

“Wow, lucky you!” she exclaims with a smile, “Then you must like working there, huh?”

“I mean, it’s a bit boring at times, but it has its perks.” you tell, thinking about a certain someone. This makes your heart heavy again, making you look down at your food.

“Has Delmar told you about what happened to that place last year?” she asks you.

“Oh, you mean the explosion caused by those bank robbers?” you say, perking your head up, “Yeah, he mentions it every once in a while. He always talks about how Spider-man saved him and Murph from the wreckage.”

“Really?” May asks, an amused smile creeping upon her face as she looks over at Peter, who you noticed had froze up mid-bite.

“Yeah,” you say, raising your brow at your classmate’s odd behavior. You turn back to her and tell her, “Actually, Spider-man was one of the reasons I got hired by Delmar.”

“Is that so?” she asks with a delighted tone, her eyes watching her nephew as his eyes shift from her to you. This was just like their weird silent conversation at the apartment! Were they always like this? Maybe this is where Peter gets his uncanny behavior from. You had to pretend to not be bothered by it, so you continue,

“Yeah...he actually introduced me to Delmar a few weeks into my move. I was trying to get to know the Queens area a little more so I took the bus to this area. However about two hours into exploring I got completely lost, and on top of that I had left my house in a rush so I didn’t check how much battery life my phone had, so it had died. I tried to ask around for help but no one bothered, and I pretty much thought I was screwed.” You paused for a moment, feeling like you were saying too much, only to notice d that Peter and May were listening to you intently. Realizing you could continue, you say,

“But by sheer luck, Spider-man was in the area, and he found me by chance. I told him my situation and he offered to take me to a bodega that was selling portable chargers, and since he was the only other person I knew at the time I went with him. And that bodega was Delmar’s! He introduced me to him, and told him about my situation. Since Delmar was such a fan of Spider-man, he actually allowed me to charge my phone in the outlet behind the counter, but I didn’t have a charging cable so Spider-man offered to pay for one.

“While I was waiting for my phone to charge Delmar was telling Spider-man that he was looking for a part-time employee, as his son who used to help him out was off to college in New Jersey. I mentioned that I was looking for work, but Delmar was hesitant about taking me in. For some reason Spider-man vouched for me, and because Delmar is a Spider-man fanboy he agreed to consider me. Next week I got a call from Delmar asking if I’d like to take on the job and I said yes.”

As you wrap up your tale, May was still watching you, seemingly fascinated by it. Peter, on the other hand, had resumed eating, but his expression had changed into a serious one.

“Now that I think about it, I never paid him back for the charger,” you say without thinking.

“Well, Pete here knows Spider-man,” May informs you, making Peter choke on the larb he was currently chewing on.

“Y-yes, I am aware of this,” you say with a forced smile, “Everyone in our school knows about that.”

“Well, maybe Peter can help you out with paying him back, if you want,” she suggests. This makes your eyes perk up in hope. Maybe your initial mission will be finished sooner than you thought! You were just about to express your willingness for this, but Peter jumps into the conversation,

“I-I think Spider-man doesn’t care if you paid him back or not,” he says, still recovering from his sudden choking, “He was just happy to help you out. A-also he’s been really busy lately, so it’s been hard for me to get into contact with him.” Damn it! You hiss internally. You try your best to hide your disappointment, but May seemed to have caught onto it.

“Well, maybe next time you run into him!” May reassures you, but you highly doubt this. For a moment you thought you were going to be ten steps ahead, and now you felt like you were all the way back to the start. For the remainder of dinner, May carried on with talking, while both you and Peter continued to silently eat your food.

After the three of you finished up dinner, May offered that she drive you home, but you politely declined and said that you’d just walk to your bus stop. So then she offered that her and Peter escort you to your stop and see you off safely. Once all of you reached it, you turned to her and Peter, pulling your backpack strap higher to your shoulder and said,

“Thank you for taking me out for dinner. And for walking me here. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, no problem, dear!” May exclaims as she takes your hand and clasps it between hers, “I’m just so happy I finally got to meet you!” You give her a shy smile, still taken aback by her kindness but appreciative of it. You turn to Peter, who met your eyes as he was fiddling with his hands uncomfortably.

“Um…thanks for today,” you say to him, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“U-uh, yeah,” he nods, “Get home safely.” You nod in response, and luckily just in time your bus pulls into the stop, freeing you from this delicate air.

“Please text Peter when you are home, okay dear?” May asks you as you make your way to the bus.

“I will, ma’am!” you assure her, and then hop onto the vehicle, making yourself comfortable as you head for home. As May and Peter watch your bus drive off, she comments,

“(Y/N) is just how you described them to me. Definitely a shy clam, but they seem like a good kid.”

“Yeah.” Peter responds, his eyes still watching the bus disappear into traffic.

“Are you ever going to tell them?” she asks, looking down at her nephew

“I don’t know,” he admits, frowning, “Honestly, I’m afraid of what will happen when they find out.”

----

Grace is based off of Chinese pop idol FeiFei Zhong

Frankie is based off of American actor Ian Alexander

#peter parker X reader #peter parker reader insert #spider-man x reader #spider-man reader insert #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #spiderverse #spider-man fics #tom holland #peter parker x y/n #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #bad ideas fic

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

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Prompt #93 with game reader and Arthur. Reader gets jealous because one of the girls are really flirting with Arthur even though they know you have had a crush on him forever or reader is secretly dating Arthur but no one knows and one of the girls tries flirts with him in front of the whole camp??? 👀

Interesting! I did change the concept a bit though, since the camp girls don’t really flirt with Arthur? At least not from the interactions I’ve seen. Correct me if I’m wrong, and enjoy!

Number 93:

It started with a soft touch.

Grazing fingers lightly across arms, shoulders, lower back while passing by. Stealing glances across camp. A smile that held for a beat longer than normal.

It was the subtle things that hinted you toward Arthur’s interest. You weren’t sure at first, misinterpreting his actions as just being friendly. He would invite you on outings more often than not, your suspicion growing when you found it was only you and him.

You had interest first, a slight infatuation akin to a schoolgirl crush. Many nights were spent wishing the empty space next to your bedroll would be filled with a warm body.

But he was Arthur Morgan, third in command and held much authority over everyone else. Loved and respected by your fellow gang members, it was easy to see why falling for him was such an easy task. However it felt as if you were on opposite sides of a spectrum, and you as one of the newest arrivals were nearly invisible.

You couldn’t even recreate the surprise that took hold of you when he first admitted he was sweet on you.

He stumbled over his words, shifting uncomfortably in place and kicking at the pebbles by his feet. His cheeks painted a red tint as he shied away from your expectant gaze.

“I….I like you, Y/N. More n’ I’d like to admit.”

And with his pessimism, he was as equally shocked to learn you felt the same way.

You could relive that kiss every moment for the rest of your life. The way his lips felt soft against yours, his strong arms wrapping you in an embrace against his solid frame. It were as if time had come to a halt around you.

You wanted to sing your excitement to the world. However, Arthur had other ideas. He was apprehensive about how the others in camp would react, afraid you’d face endless teasing and he receiving criticism from Dutch. You were convinced that it was his low self-esteem driving his mind into paranoia, but you respected his wishes and kept your mouth shut. Your relationship had been reverted to those long-held gazes and quick touches, holding yourselves until you could meet one another outside of camp under the cover of night to unleash your passions.

Admittedly, having to carry it out in such a manner only enhanced the experience. You were each other’s secrets, keeping silent underneath the watchful eyes of others.

Today was a day like any other; camp bustling about in the mid morning as everyone had gotten ready for the rest of the day. You stifled a large yawn as you sipped your coffee, blinking your heavy eyes as you observed the surroundings. You and Arthur were out much too late last night and quietly rode back into camp as the faintest of dawn’s rays began to appear in the sky.

It seemed as if only mere moments had passed with your eyes closed until the racket of the other girls roused you from your sleep.

And so here you sat, attempting to drag the fatigue from your body as the black, bitter liquid slid down your throat. You placed the cup down briefly, your eyes straying over to Arthur’s open tent. From here you could see him sitting on his cot, slipping his boots on to get ready for the day. You held back a sigh as you imagined what it would be like to sleep next to him, wake up and prepare in a domestic setting.

He stood up and retrieved his gambler hat from the side table, placing it on his head before moving out into the ever-brightening sunshine. He caught your eye and shot a quick smile, making his way toward you.

Your heart fluttered whenever he set his sights upon you; the way his eyes lit in the sunlight like a beacon just for you. But then he quickly averted his gaze, stepping off to the side slightly to veer toward the steaming coffee pot. Your hand fell naturally to your side, and he brushed his fingers lightly along the curve of your arm. It was a quick and subtle gesture, enough for a tingling to erupt down the length of your arm.

Only the simplest of affections to tide you over until the sun went down and the camp would quiet once again. You finished the last of your coffee and got up to start your chores for the day, knowing Ms. Grimshaw would give you an earful if you sat around for too long.

—

A few hours had passed, and your sore, waterlogged hands needed a break from the seemingly endless amounts of laundry being done. After passing the last garment to Tilly for drying, you leaned back on your stool, stretching your aching back after being hunched over the washboard. You flexed your stiff fingers before standing up, having to ignore your growling stomach for the past hour. Now you could eat, the smell of Pearson’s stew a welcome scent despite how bland it was.

Taking a bowl full and shoving the spoon into your mouth, you began to wander over to the table. As you were moving to sit down, Arthur’s figure appeared out of the corner of your eye. You naturally looked over, curiously watching as he soon disappeared behind one of the wagons. Just seconds later, Mary-Beth had come into your vision, following Arthur’s path.

A prick of concern spiked in your heart. What was that about?

You shook your head. Nothing to worry about, it was common for the other women to approach Arthur. You focused on your stew, swallowing spoonfuls tentatively. Though every few moments you kept glancing back toward the wagon, wondering why they hadn’t reappeared yet.

Your own worrying thoughts began to invade your mind. What exactly were they doing back there? You knew you shouldn’t intrude in case it was a private matter, yet a slight bubble of envy festered in your stomach.

You stood up, willing yourself to move toward the wagon as nonchalantly as possible, despite clenching your hands into fists over and over. With your growing approach you could hear their voices on the other side. Mary-Beth’s laughter along with Arthur’s low chuckle.

You paused, quickly glancing around to make sure no one was watching you, and you scanned the wagon pretending to look for something. You strained to listen to their conversation, though couldn’t hear more than just their voices. Mary-Beth sounded…excited…for something, and you could hear Arthur’s name spoken clearly from her lips.

Your heart lurched, your ears thumping loudly as you grit your teeth. Was Arthur two-timing you with Mary-Beth? Was he trying to, or was she trying? Did she even know about you and him at this point?

You stomped back to the table, though the uncomfortable curling in your stomach had diminished your appetite. You threw your plate away rather aggressively, the loud clatter catching the attention of others nearby. You paid no mind to them as you made your way into the surrounding woods.

It’d taken you nearly an hour to cool down, the thoughts racing inside your head like a swarm of bees. Mary-Beth was either trying to move onto your territory, or Arthur was cheating on you.

But then a little voice broke through the buzzing, as clear as day. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that, no. She was one of the sweetest ladies in camp, and you knew this. She was your friend. But did she have feelings for Arthur?

And Arthur…you knew Arthur. Loyal as they come, a complete gentleman in contrast to the gruff character that he often portrayed. Seeing another woman behind your back would be the last thing he’d do.

Or so you hoped.

You’d never been this jealous or possessive of something before.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you flopped onto a tree, pinching your forehead between your fingers in attempts to quell the beginning of a headache. “This isn’t who I am.” you groaned to yourself.

The sound of twigs snapping caught your attention, and you turned to see Arthur himself walking toward you. “Who?” he asked curiously.

Your brief excitement to see him had been squandered by your previous thoughts. You shouldn’t assume anything until you’ve heard Arthur’s side. How would even approach it without sounding accusatory?

“What’re you doing out here?” you countered, the acidity in your voice more concentrated than you realized.

Arthur paused, his face twitching from your tone. “Charles said you stormed outta camp lookin’ pretty angry. Jus’ wanted to make sure you’re alright.” he explained softly.

You hesitated, searching his face. he held nothing but concern, reflecting in his eyes. “I heard you talking with Mary-Beth.”

His pose stiffened immediately. “Ya did?”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. His demeanor had changed at an instant. You could sense the nervousness from him, the way he avoided your eyes just then. It was true after all. “Yeah, didn’t think you’d be a cheater.” you hissed.

His blue eyes widened. “Cheater? No, Y/N! I ain’t sweet on Mary-Beth, I swear!” he exclaimed, stepping toward you. You mirrored his movement, stepping back to stay out of his reach.

“Sure sounded like it, you two disappearing behind the wagon all sneaky and laughing together like you were great pals, or even more.” you spit out each word like it was fire.

“Y/N-” he started, once again attempting to get closer. His arms swiped at the empty air as you backed up once again. “Lemme explain-”

“What, that I’m not good enough?” you growled, stamping your foot against the forest floor. “Save it, I’m leaving.” before he could say anything, you swung around and began to walk away.

You heard him hiss out a swear. He closed the gap between you within a second as his large hand closed around yours. Your futile attempt to yank yourself free was quickly diminished when he pulled you to him. Trying to wriggle free, you gasped, “Let me go, Arthur!”

“You ain’t lettin’ me explain,” Arthur murmured, holding you tight against him. “There’s nothin’ goin’ on between me n’ Mary-Beth.”

“But I heard you-”

“You heard us laughin’,” he interjected. “But you don’t know ‘bout what.”

“Taking me for a fool, I bet.” you muttered angrily, still trying to pull out from his grip.

Arthur’s chest heaved with a heavy sigh. “No, Y/N. We was laughin’ cause…eh, I was showin’ her a poem I wrote.”

A poem? You knew he loved to write in that journal of his, yet you never knew he had an interest in poetry. “So you wrote one just for her?” you shot.

“No,” he huffed. “It’s…it’s for you.”

You froze, your anger beginning to melt away to confusion. You peered up at him. “What?”

He sighed, loosening his arms. “Didn’t think it weren’t good ‘nough, so I asked Mary-Beth for help.”

You turned around to stare at him. As the last coils of anger and confusion disappeared, a mix of emotions began to arise. Relief to know you were wrong accompanied with elation, and of course, a strong twinge of embarrassment.

You were thankful you were far enough from camp to not be overheard.

“I’m such a fool.” you groaned, dropping your head into your hand.

You heard him chuckle, his fingertips grazing softly against your cheek. He prompted you to look at him, eyeing the smile of amusement on his face. “Ya shouldn’t eavesdrop, sweetheart. Gonna have a hard time explain’ your outburst to everyone.”

“I know that now,” you sighed. “I’m sorry.”

His smile turned soft, leaning down to place a tender kiss against your lips. You responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Surrounded by the sounds of nature, you felt oddly blissful after such an inflammatory issue.

When you finally parted, you smiled at him and asked, “So, where’s that poem?”

He bashfully turned his gaze away. “Still a work in progress, darlin’.”

—

Prompt requests officially closed for now!

#Anonymous #Arthur Morgan x reader #prompt request

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sapphiresterreart · 5 years

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Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic: The Enemy

Was reading some fanfic where Marinette is akumatized and had a brief flash of inspiration. Typed this idea as far as I could before boredom kicked in. Unfinished. Unedited. Figured I’d share it anyway.

Summary: Her classmates believe she is the enemy. She’s not. But maybe she should be.

The Enemy

“For so long you’ve endured, treated like an enemy by your so-called friends.”

Damnit. Marinette grimaced, huddling tighter against the bathroom wall. Tikki, please be safe. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Because I don’t think I can fight this time…

“Help me gather the Chat Noir and Ladybug Miraculous and I will help you, Final Straw.”

She barked a laugh, the powers of the akuma steadily coloring her thoughts. “Final Straw?” She had a glimpse of a masked man and the negativity delved deeper. The butterflies flittered within the outline of a familiar symbol. Strange. Hadn’t she seen that before? “No, no, absolutely not.”

“Oh?” The voice deepened with an unspoken threat. “Surely you want justice?”

“Of course I do.” Black spotted her vision. Ah. She realized. That’s where. “But not with a name like that.”

“Creative one, aren’t you?” A clack echoed: an agitated cane against a stone floor. “Then what do you propose?”

“If I’m truly an enemy to them…” Pastel lips stretched into a steady grin, unfamiliar power rolling through her veins. “Then why not be an enemy to all?”

Including you, Gabriel Agreste.

Like walking into a room at night, she reached within her mind and pulled. Her emotions rippled like a wave of white hot water before it crashed. Somewhere a connection snapped. Black flooded her vision. Noise vibrated in her head and she curled tighter into a ball before she realized she needed to breathe and when she did–

It was like flipping a switch.

Her vision cleared. The emotions short-circuited into nothing. No pain. No joy. Just the dull sensation of numbness. Her head tilted as she examine herself. Interesting. No visible difference. So she was still herself? She didn’t feel the same, so then..?

Hawkmoth’s voice buzzed in her head like a pesky fly. “What have you–”

She swatted the nuisance aside. Troublesome. So then she had been akumatized. That would explain the strange emptiness. Logically, she knew she should feel more than muted surprise at her discoveries. Gabriel Agreste, Adrien’s father, is Hawkmoth. And so what did that matter? Her one purpose was to defeat Hawkmoth and return the misused miraculous to Master Fu. So that’s exactly what she planned to do.

Pity she still appeared normal. School would be a bother but she had to keep up appearances or risk Hawkmoth discovering she knew his identity. True, she didn’t know where that rat had holed himself. But she would find out. Soon.

Marinette idly straightened her clothes and stepped out of the stall. A glance at the mirror confirmed she still appeared as her civilian self. She adjusted her pigtails. There. Presentable to a reasonable degree. Now, what class did she have again?

She pulled out her phone. Several notifications had covered her lock-screen. Her thumb briefly slid along the glass to roll through the messages and she exhaled.

“To change from a hero to a villain.” She checked the time. Right. Physics. “Were they ever my allies at all?”

Did it even matter? No. Not right now. What mattered now was taking down Hawkmoth and restoring order to Paris. She’d deal with her classmates later. For now… For now, she had class to attend and notes to take.

She turned from the mirror and strode out of the bathroom. Hallways stretched before her, lined with doors, and she walked to Ms. Mendeleiev’s classroom. Class had already started and the door was closed. Her knuckles rapped against the door in quick succession and she waited.

The door opened to reveal the purple haired and sharp-eyed teacher. “So glad you could join us, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette waited, silent. The teacher eyed her critically but, when the silence stretched, Ms. Mendeleiev huffed. “Hurry along, now.”

Marinette breezed her way into her seat. She ignored the others as they shot the occasional spiteful glare her way. She continued to ignore them until lunch time when Lila staged another scene.

In the cafeteria and surrounded by their classmates, the liar wailed. “And then I went to comfort her like a good friend should but you know what she said to me?”

On cue, Max’s voice prompted her. “What?”

“She threatened me! She said she’d get revenge and take you all away from me. But I didn’t do anything to her! I just don’t know why she hates me so much.”

Marinette had just bitten a forkful of her pasta when rapid footsteps approached and two broad hands slammed against the tabletop. She frowned as her cup of water toppled to the side and splashed onto the rest of the noodles.

“Kim,” she started to say.

“What is wrong with you, Marinette?” The taller boy exploded. “Can’t you see your actions have consequences? Why do you keep hurting Lila?”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze from her water-logged food to the fuming boy. She blinked, slow and steady, and shifted her gaze onto the rest of the group. They watched with equal faces of ire. Silently, she picked up the cup and wiped the damp with a napkin.

“Aren’t you listening?” Kim yelled. “Why do you–”

Without a word, she picked up her tray and stood. She pivoted, Kim hot on her heels, and walked to the trash bins.

“Marinette, I’m talking to you! Stop ignoring–”

She emptied the tray and placed it with the rest of the dirty trays atop the bin. Shame she had to waste food, but. Her vision darkened as Hawkmoth yelled inside her head. But she had priorities. Finished, she shoved aside the man’s voice and she turned away from Kim’s yells and she tuned out the clamor of agitated students. She walked out the door.

She didn’t get very far. This time it was Alya storming after her.

“What was that, girl?” Her former best friend blocked her path, hands on hips. “You don’t get to just brush off our friends like that.”

“Your friends.” Her mouth corrected before she could think. “Kim is not my friend.”

“What?” Alya shot her a look. “Girl, your jealous streak has gone way too far. You need to–”

“I don’t need to do anything.” Marinette corrected once more before she amended. “Well, except for one but that’s irrelevant.”

“What is with you?” Alya crossed her arms. Typical closed-off posturing, Marinette idly noted. Why waste my time? She made to move around the other girl but Alya shifted to block her way. Marinette made to turn around but Alya stepped in front once more. “Stop trying to run away, Marin–”

It was then that a flash of anger struck.

“I am not Marinette.” Oops. That was the Akuma talking for sure.

“…what?”

Hmm. How to fix this? “I am not your Marinette, Alya. Not your friend, not your anything. Not anymore.”

“What?”

“You heard me just fine.” She leveled steely blue to startled brown. “You want Lila? That’s fine. But you don’t get me too.”

With that, she stepped forwards and made it two steps before a hand grabbed her by the shoulder. The anger surged and before she could rein herself in, she had already flipped Alya over her shoulder and down to the ground.

“Stay out of the way, Césaire.” Marinette bared her teeth in a smile. She released the startled girl. “Or you’ll find I’m just as strong an enemy than an ally.”

Alya lay there, winded, as she walked away. Nuisance. Her brows pinched together and a brief bubble of guilt popped in the haze. That’s not right. I could’ve hurt her. I should apologize. But for what? She wasn’t in the wrong. She had one goal. Césaire was in the way and had been warned. She’s my friend. I shouldn’t… She had one goal. She shouldn’t worry about a little thing like teenagers.

She had one goal. And she would achieve it.

Change of plans, Hawkmoth. She mused. There’s no reason to waste time here. Not when she could be revealing the truth. In quick paces, she found the stairwell. She climbed up and up until she reached the roof. Without a thought, she jumped off the ledge.

Familiar words rolled off her tongue. “Spots on.”

A flash of black erupted around her. She flung a black yo-yo out of the smog and swung from rooftop to rooftop in search of butterfly windows and a mansion. It wasn’t until she arrived atop the mansion’s roof did she realize Hawkmoth had been oddly silent.

She darted around until finally she decided to just enter the house. Unsurprisingly, the doors were locked. One smashed window and several severed bars later, she stormed her way through the building. Distantly, police sirens roared but she paid them no head as she tore through the mansion in search of the hidden lair.

The noise increased as she stood in the foyer in front of a mosaic painting. Emilie Agreste.

“Come on out, little butterflies.” She cooed and reached inwards. Like before, she found a string and pulled. Beneath the painting, a butterfly fluttered. There.

Behind her, the mansion doors busted open. “…m’lady?”

“Not your lady.” Slowly, she turned. “Never your lady, minou. What kind of enemy has allies, after all.”

“Bugaboo…” the concern was clear, “what happened?” To you? Went unspoken.

Many things, kitty. She shook her head clear of black spots. “No time, chaton. Hawkmoth is here.”

He straightened. “What? But–”

The butterfly flittered around her pigtails before settling atop her shoulder. “Ah, little butterfly.” She murmured. “I’ll set you free.”

“Lady–”

With that, she flung her yo yo backwards and ripped apart the painting. Oddly enough, Chat yowled like she had struck him instead. She didn’t have time to concern herself with that, though. No. She had to reveal the truth.

Her yo-yo shredded the fabric to reveal a passageway filled with butterflies. Without a backwards glance, she sprinted down the path, guided by white wings. She didn’t have time to wait for her partner. She needed to end this. And she needed to end it now.

“Come out, Hawkmoth.” Her voice echoed within the underground rooms as she vaulted through them. “It’s time.”

Doors opened beneath her slinging yo-yo and she flung herself into the last room: a room lit by a butterfly shaped window. Alone in the light stood a familiar figure. Hawkmoth.

“…just who are you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“I’m who I need to be.” She offered a smile and twirled her weapon. “The enemy, remember?”

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Akumanette #Fanfic

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cirvat · 4 years

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Week 4- Creatober

(Ahhh! Week 3 drew a blank! But week 4 brought me back!)

Prompts: Obsession, Become, Repress, Dusk, Exsanguination, and Break

Havenwood Apartments, Maddie mused to herself, was like a feel good monster cartoon come to life. Everything, from the campus grounds to the general theme of the building, was like a bastardization of an Addam’s Family spinoff.

It was the little things.

The general color scheme of the building, a dark wood paired with sophisticated shades of teal and gray, evoked a feeling of perpetual dusk. The refusal of the sun to break through the clouds and shine on any part of the grounds. Even the quirks of the tenants were odd.

Ms. Pennyweather of apartment 2A never went anywhere without her needlepoint projects which were always complex collections of foreign words and dark imagery. She would smile in that sweet auntie way while embroidering gory scenes of war and death. Maddie quite liked the bloody embroidery she had done on one of her jackets. She’d called that one ‘Exsanguination’.

Mr. King, in apartment 2B, was never seen during daylight hours, or what passed for daylight hours here. A knock at his door elicited no response before 8pm and his cat, affectionately called Fido, was never in his apartment. The animal was always napping elsewhere, in the kitchen or library or sitting area.

The twins, Misters Warton (apartment 4A), on the other hand never slept. Whenever Maddie got up, be it 7am or 2am, either one or both of them would be up in the library dithering away in their books and debating some inane topic of history.

Finally, there was the Garcia family in 4B who were the most normal tenants in the whole building, and yes Maddie knew that included herself. Or, they seemed like it until she had witnessed Mr. Garcia say, completely unprompted, how chilly a midsummer day was going to be hours before the wind came.

The only person that seemed halfway average was Regina, Mr. Garcia’s daughter and Maddie’s newly enforced best friend. She attended the same little private school Huang Mulan, Maddie’s latest guardian, had enrolled her in. She giggled like a teenager, watched makeup tutorials, and posted artful pictures of her food to her Instagram.

The only weird thing about Regina Garcia was how determined she was to be Maddie’s friend. She was kind and helpful and it set Maddie’s teeth on edge like nothing else. She didn’t even complain when Maddie started staring off at the spirits that were haunting her shadow or glaring down the ones that got too close.

Maddie shook her head, repressing that warmth that bubbled under her skin. She let her eyes refocus back on her newest obsession, although maybe that was too strong of a word.

Watching Huang Mulan, Ms. Huang as Maddie had taken to calling her, paint was quickly becoming one of her favorite pastimes.

Ms. Huang was honestly the coolest adult Maddie had ever seen. She either dressed to the nines with collared shirts and slacks or she looked like she had just rolled out of bed. Tattoos traced their way from her neck down her arms and spine in waves of dragons and plant life. The septum piercing was pretty cool too. And the pet raven.

“Not a pet.” Ms. Huang said as she dipped her brush in a frankly gorgeous shade of robin’s egg blue.

“What?”

“Have you gotten a chance to explore all that Havenwood has to offer?” Ms. Huang ignored her question as she traced the blue along the tree branches on her canvas. “Perhaps you could allow Ms. Garcia to give you a more in depth tour.”

“Are you really trying to get rid of me right now?” Maddie frowned. “I’ve already seen everything.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, everything I was allowed to see.”

“‘Allowed to see’?”

“Yeah, I’m not a creep!” She huffed. “I didn’t go digging in anyone’s apartments and Mr. Warton told me not to go snooping on the third floor.”

“Hm.” Ms. Huang smiled. “Charlie really should mind his own business on these kinds of matters.”

“What?”

“Madeline. A-Ying. You can go through the third floor.” She turned to look her ward in the eye. “You have my blessing.”

“What, really?” Maddie’s shoulders tensed.

“Of course.” Ms. Huang turned back to her painting. “Bring your friend along. Who knows what you’ll meet.”

Maddie, who had checked out of the conversation as soon as Ms. Huang had given permission, bolted out of the room. The door of their ground floor apartment slammed open and she turned to the stairs in her sock clad feet.

She sprinted up the steps, two at a time, to the fourth floor and pounded on the door to apartment 4B. When Regina opened the door she grabbed her arm immediately.

“Huanggavepermissiontoraidthethirdfloor! Mr. Gracia! I’m stealing your daughter!” She screamed into the apartment, hearing something vaguely like an ‘ok’, before yanking Regina out into the hallway.

“Wait, Maddie, what’s going on?!” Regina stumbled on the carpet.

“Third floor!”

“What about the third floor? We can’t go there, remember?”

“Ms. Huang gave me permission and told me to bring you so that means you have permission too and we are gonna raid the place I bet there’s some cool shit like dead rats and rotten furniture and maybe you can take a picture for your Insta or some shit! Come on!” She barely spared the time to breathe as she pulled her snooping buddy back down the stairs to the floor beneath them.

“Uh-Um.. A-are you sure she meant me?” Regina fumbled for her words. Maddie would never understand this girl’s fear of her guardian.

“Who else is forcing their friendship on me? Fido the cat?” She scoffed as she took Regina’s shoulders and frog-marched her to the door for apartment 3A. “He doesn’t give a shit. He’s probably in here all the time.”

“I-I don’t know, Maddie.” Regina rubbed her hands together. “Mr. Warton said that we shouldn’t-”

“And Ms. Huang, you know the owner of the fucking building, said that we could. So we’re gonna.” Maddie tried the door and immediately knelt to pick the lock when it didn’t turn. “She said that ‘Charlie’ should keep his nose out of it.”

“I doubt she said that.”

“Spiritually, she did.” Maddie smirked when the lock clicked and the door opened.

“You can pick locks?” Regina blinked when she sprung back up to shove the door open.

“Hell yeah, I can.” Maddie winked at her. “I gotta use these delinquent skills somehow. Come on!”

The room that they entered was nothing like Maddie had expected.

Instead of old wood and dust there were stacks and stacks of paintings. Canvases and frames covered every wall. Almost every square foot of floor space was taken up with statues and busts. There was a small winding path that led through the unlit room.

The girls glanced at each other before making their way inside.

“Is this just where she dumps all of the crap she doesn’t sell?” Maddie frowned as she tiptoed along the path.

“Do you mean Ms. Huang?”

“Yeah. She paints, like, all the fuckin’ time. I just assumed she sold it all to afford shit like this house and art supplies. You ever look at the prices in those art stores? It’s crazy expensive!”

“I guess I didn’t think she had a hobby like that.” Regina shrugged. “I thought she just went around fixing broken stuff and collecting rent.”

“Don’t you do her dirty like th-! Stop!” Maddie threw out an arm, freezing in place. “Did you see that?!”

“See what?” Regina looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Sh!” She pointed. “There it was again! Something moved!”

“Oh, god. Do you think there’s actually rats in here?!” Her friend took a step back.

“No, no! It was up high! Look, look!” Maddie pointed again. This time she caught the movement and watched as a ink-black goldfish slowly swam through the air. It floated over to a painting and disappeared into the canvas, becoming part of the image depicted there.

“What in the world?”

“There’s more!” The two girls looked up and watched as a school of goldfish meandered through the ceiling beams. Regina glanced to the side staring at one fish as it sailed into another painting and tugged Maddie to watch as the painting itself began to change.

A young girl swung on a rope swing as a storm slowly approached from behind her. Wind shuffled the leaves, changing their colors, and tugged at the girl’s hair. The fish made its way to her and she started to laugh, cupping the creature close.

Soon they noticed that each painting moved. A seascape patterned through a rushing tide. Ink slowly dribbled across fresh snow. A single wolf shifted in between forest trees. A young man blinked at them from his spot at a low table.

“Maddie, what’s going on?” Regina tugged at her sleeve.

“...” Maddie closed her gaping mouth and smiled. “My aunt is a fucking witch!”

#maddie #mulan #regina #creatober #gtpatcreatober

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trash-that-wont-be-taken-out · 4 years

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Oh no, here I go again.

So, uh, this is an Invader Zim fanfic. I already posted it on my Wattpad account, goshdiggitydarn. It’s an OC insert. I know, OC inserts suck, but uh this is self-indulgent and I need my alien bitches. few things to note: my main character, fae, is pagan and autistic. like me. i just want to say that paganism is not about worshipping the devil, like most people make it out to be. it’s not evil. if anything, it’s used to help people. please don’t hate me, i’m sensitive- okay anyways on with the story:

Twitchy Witchy Chapter 1- New Girl Dib watched the strange new girl with calculating eyes. She was completely ignoring the current lesson, instead finding humor in doodling strange symbols on her hand. Her light brown hair framed her pale face, and her purple glasses slid down her nose, hiding her grey eyes from Dib's view. Paper clips hung from her ears. Her feet tapped rhythmically to a song she was whispering to herself. Occasionally, her nose would twitch ever-so-slightly; it was hardly noticeable, but it was there.

The teacher, Ms Bitters, noticed the new girl's obvious disinterest. She walked up to her desk and, without the girl even noticing, slammed her wrinkled hand down on the desk. The girl jumped and accidentally let go of the sharpie, sending it flying across the room.

"You," the grey-haired woman said in a scratchy voice. "You should be paying attention, shouldn't you?"

Ms Bitters stooped down to be eye-level with the girl. "What's your name?"

"Fae," she replied quietly.

"Why is there a leaf in your hair?" asked Ms Bitters, plucking a lush green elm leaf from behind Fae's ear. "You're almost as bad as Zim." Ms Bitters gestured to the suspicious-looking green boy. "One time, he came to Skool covered in meat."

"It was for an absolutely normal human worm baby purpose!" Zim yelled.

"Y'know, ever since we got to Hi-Skool, I thought you would be normal now," said a blonde girl who must have been in classes with Zim far before now.

"He's not going to be normal!" Dib shouted at her. "Because he's an alien! For four years, you've gone to classes with him! And you still don't think he's an alien?!"

"For four years, I've had to put up with you miserable children," Ms Bitters growled through clenched teeth, returning to her desk. "I suggest you all sit down, now, before I have to write you up."

"But we don't have to sit down," retorted a girl, standing up so fast her chair fell over. She was wearing a purple sweatshirt, and her wild maroon-dyed hair complemented her dark skin. She had deep blue gauges in her ears, and a golden yellow piercing shined on her eyebrow. Her purple-painted lips tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Randy," Ms Bitters said as a warning, but the bell rang before she could get another word out.

Fae immediately stuffed her books in her bag and left, with Dib's curious gaze trailing after her.

~yeet~

The cafeteria was too loud for Fae's liking, and it showed. She stood with her back against the walls, debating whether or not to go to her next class. She had no lunch money and no lunchbox, just her pocketful of stale crackers. Her eyes searched for an empty table until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned her head to meet the chocolate brown eyes of Dib.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" he asked.

She struggled to find something to say. She stuttered before finally muttering, "I don't have anywhere to sit."

"You can sit with me," he stated. Fae's eyes lit up with a hopeful smile. Dib led her to a table where a purple-haired girl was sitting, staring intently at a Nintendo Switch. Dib gestured to her. "Fae, this is my sister, Gaz."

Fae glanced at the screen. The main character was holding an axe, attempting to hit a red fox wearing a loincloth. Fae smiled. "Animal Crossing?" Gaz gave a nod of affirmation, not looking away from the screen.

Dib noticed Fae didn't have a lunch tray. "You're not eating?"

"I am," she replied, holding up her bag of stale crackers. This exposed her hand, giving Dib a better view of the doodles. He recognized a few symbols- zodiacs and planets- but most of them remained unknown to him.

"What's that on your hand?" he asked.

Her eyes darted down to her hand and she set the crackers down on the table. Embarrassed, she held her hand against her chest. "Nothing. Just... runes and stuff."

"Why?"

Fae looked distracted. "For... protection? Luck? I, uh... wow, it's my first day here, and I'm already telling a stranger about this." She giggled helplessly with a look of "someone please end this conversation" on her face. Feeling panic rise in her chest, she pulled out a tumbled crystal from her pocket and began rolling it around in her hands. Without looking at Dib, she muttered, "You don't think I'm weird, do you? For believing in this stuff?"

Dib blinked, dumbfounded. "No, of course not." He thought for a second. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Fae studied Dib's face, searching for his own answer. Yes, Fae believed in spiritual beings, souls of humans that remain after death, but did he believe in them? If he didn't and she answered honestly, would he think she's crazy? Finally, Fae decided on, "I believe in spirits."

"What about aliens?"

"Well..." Fae slipped the crystal back in her pocket and rested her elbows on the table. "We... don't really know what's out there, do we? We only know one galaxy, and we're searching only close planets. Yes, I do believe that some form of extraterrestrial life could possibly exist." Lowering her voice, she said quietly, "And that Zim kid? You said he was an alien? Can you... show me?"

Dib felt excitement bubbling in his chest and he grinned widely. "Yes! Yes, I can! I can tell you everything I know about him, and I can show you my proof!" The bell rang. "Come over to my place after Skool. Here's my number. Text me so I can tell you the address." He scrawled something on Fae's arm. Gaz got up and dragged him away.

Fae stared at the seven-digit number on her arm, idly wondering if she should actually text him after class.

#invader zim #invader zim dib #invader zim fan character #invader zim fanfic #invader zim fanfiction #oc #original character

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daddysfangirls-marvel · 5 years

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No Search Party

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Warning: language, angst,

Summary: Daryl Dixon x (daughter) reader. Daryl and the group are at the mercy of Negan and the saviors and meet someone they thought would never see again. (Y/n was left alone at Hershals farm while her father took carol) ( y/n hates Daryl, Carol, Beth, and Judith) ( y/n followed her father for years and when she finally caught up to him he was mourning Beth’s death and was filled with rage) ( y/n and Negan have a father-daughter relationship) ( y/n has a pet crow named Sebastian that kept her alive)

Note: This is not a series and never will be

She had been following them for years after Hershel's farm desperate to get back to her family. She had gone through a lot of stuff met and ran into a lot of dangerous people and situations. She had been through a lot too much. At one point, she had given up and that’s when the Governor stepped in and took her she was with them for a few months not realizing that her family was literally right around the corner. When she did figure it out it was too late again. The Governor had sent her away for medicine when she came back everything was in ruins and everyone was gone or dead. She cried her eyes out when she found Hershel.

But it was also the push she needed to find her family again so she started looking again but it always seemed like she was always a step behind them every time she thought she had found or reached them she found a place in ruins or empty of all things. For years she chased them but she never caught them until she did.

(Y/n) had water but she didn’t have food and it was starting to affect her it had been a week since her last real meal. But Sebastian was doing fine eating the carcass of animals he could find. Lucky bastard bird. She made been moving none stop for the last couple of days and she was getting closer she could feel it.

Then she found him he was leaning up against a tree smoking and burning himself with the cigarette.

“Dad?”

He looked up as she called for him. The big grin that painted her face became smaller as she saw his face. He was crying he never cried and he never allowed her to cry either. He looked shocked to see her at first then he was sad and angry.

“...Dad?”

“no...no”

“... it’s me. (Y/n) I’m alive and I’ve been looking for you for so long. Where are the others? I can’t wait to see them. I’ve missed -”

“Go away”

“what... but-”

“Go away I don’t want you, I don’t need you, You’re gone. And you’ve been gone for a very long time. There is no point in you being here anymore... Go away.

“But dad-” Suddenly Darly picks up a handful of dirt and throws it her way it hits her shirt. “ I... Okay”

She continued following them for a couple of days after that but she eventually just gave up on them altogether, as they had done so on her a long time ago, she just couldn’t watch it anymore.

Not too long after that, a man named Negan took her in.

Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back but she could still feel Carl’s glare on her. It was strange they were best friends at the farm and at Atlanta now they weren’t. Times have changed.

“ I’m not waiting for your father anymore. I don’t know where the hell he is but I’m is my princess. Ain’t that right Sweetheart” Negan smiles at her she just scratches her head awkwardly. “ Carl pass the rolls...please”

Carl doesn’t listen instead continues to glare (Y/n). She sighed and pasted the rolls for him all while making eye contact with Carl. Negan filled everyone’s plates as the two teens glared at each other.

“You two seem to really like each other” he teased but became serious “ Bunny?”

“Remember that group that I told you about. The first one the one that left me behind when I was 11. This his Carl Grimes he was part of that group his father was the leader of that group.”

“Oh shit”

“We thought you were dead”

“I’m obviously not”

“The farm was overrun. Everyone ran away.”

“But you all managed to find each other.”

“Listen-” (Y/n) slammed her hand on the table startling Carl everyone but Negan and causing Judith to cry.

“Everyone spent two months looking for Sofia but you couldn’t spare a day or even an hour for me. Do you know all the shit I went through chasing after you fucks.”

“Language young lady” Negan scolds her sternly but she ignores him.

she sighed and chuckled a bit she picked up a roll and began to dig in “ It doesn’t matter anymore. I am where I am and I’m happy.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened to the others. ” Carl gave Negan a side glance and he returned a menacing glare. As if saying keep your mouth shut.

“Honestly no. Why care for people who didn’t care for me. Thank for the lemonade Ms. Oliva”

That wasn’t true (y/n) still cared for people in that group and she honestly missed Carl and Glenn and T- Dog they were her favorite people but she wasn’t going to say that out loud. She just didn’t want to hear what happen to them she didn’t know if they were dead or alive and she preferred it that way less disappointment less heartbreak. She didn’t need to or want to know the details of anything.

She wanted to stay in blissful ignorance. She wanted to pretend to be innocent she wanted to be just like the little toddler bouncing on Oliva’s lap next to her but she knew she couldn’t not anymore... All her innocence was long gone taken and she’d never get it back. Ever.

(Y/n) was inside washing the dishes. The others tried to do them but she insisted she does them by herself. To tell the truth she just wanted to play in the water and make bubbles like a child again. That’s probably why it took longer than it should have to do the dishes actually.

“You still have that thing” (y/n) looked up to see Carl in the kitchen he was looking at the counter where Sebastian was peaking at a roll.

“Of course” she smiled flicking water at the bird who snapped at her “if it wasn’t for Sebastian I wouldn’t be here right now. This rat with wings saved my life on several occasions”

“mom hated it”

“Everyone hated Sebastion expect You, Sofia, T-dog, Glenn, and Dale. Everyone else thought he would make good food. What they didn’t realize was he was good at finding food” She picked up his roll and tossed it out the window getting him out the house.

“You know we actually waited for you. A day” Carl said “ I marked places with different initials from the group every time we stopped. I wanted you to find us but no one really wanted to stop and look. That big of a herd they thought you were dead. But I knew better.”

“Thank you for believing in me, I guess” She smiled she could never stay mad at Carl that were best friends practically sibling when they were together.

“ I met him before the Saviors were well the Saviors. These group of guys found me and they took me and they hurt me they..shit- I mean stuff- Stuff happened...Negan came and killed them and saved me. I stayed with him for a few months he offered me a place with his group I didn't take it because I was so busy looking for you guys. He gave me food, water, and a walkie talkie to stay in touch. I walked out of range then it died on me. A couple of years later I gave up and I found him again and we started back actually where we left off like I had never left.” She smiled sadly as she looked at carl he made a painful expression on his face.

“Negan took care of me when I had no one else. He has loved me and looked after me.”

“Are you two?” Carl began to make strange hand gestures but (y/n) picked up what he was trying to say.

“Oh god no. He’s more of a father figure to me. All the saviors call me daddy’s little girl to tease but... I actually like it.”

“What about Daryl ?”

“He never wanted me I was a mistake from a one night stand. The only reason he took me was so he wouldn’t have to pay for child support. Merel took better care of me than he did and that’s saying something”

“Does Negan know Daryl’s your dad? Do you know what happened to-“

“No, no. I don’t want to know what happened to Daryl. And he has never asked about my parents since I came back and I never told him my last name so I guess not. I’m done with Daryl.”

The two of them fell into a tense silence. Carl had something to say but he didn’t want to say it and (y/n) was praying that Carl wouldn’t say it. Because as for how she felt she had left that life behind and wanted nothing to do with it she was not part of it.

Suddenly Oliva came down passing them and going to the front porch they followed.. Negan was in the middle of the street playing pool with some guy named Spencer.

“I could never do this with Rick. He would just be standing there, scowling, giving me that annoying side-eye he gives me.”

“That’s actually what I came to see you about. I want to talk to you about Rick.”

“Hey Princess, you want to play” Negan called out to (y/n) but she shook her head and declined instead choosing to sit and watch on the rail. He eyed her for a moment making sure she was okay but accepted her decline “Alright, Talk to me, Spencer. Talk to me about Rick.”

“I get what you’re trying to do here, what you’re trying to build. I’m not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it. You’re building a network making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense.” This was a very interesting conversation and it seems like (y/n) wasn’t the only one who thought so as other people started to file out of their homes to listen in and watch the men play pool but or so listen in But you should know that “Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others.”

“mm. Is that so?” Negan passes a glance at (Y/n) as if asking her the question. From the little dinner conversation earlier he realized she knew a few people in the group. She shook her hand in a motion saying ‘eh’ maybe so maybe not.

”Rick wasn’t the original leader here my mom was. She was doing a really good job of it. Then she died, not long after Rick showed up the same with my brother, same with my dad.” She didn’t like where their conversation was heading and she knew Negan didn’t either but he was entertaining him giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“So everything is peachy here for what years? And then Rick shows up and suddenly you’re an orphan? That is the saddest story I’ve ever heard. Good thing for you he’s not in charge anymore.” He was giving this guy a chance to back up and save himself but he wasn’t taking it.

“Doesn’t matter. His ego is out of control. He’ll find a way to screw things up, to try and do things his way, to take over. That’s what he did with my mom. That’s what he'll do again.” (Y/n) pinched her nose. Spencer Monroe as dug his grave

“What exactly are you prosing be done about that?”

“ I am my mother’s son. I can be the leader she was. That’s what this place needs. That’s what you need.” and there he goes falling in it.

“So I should put you in charge. That’s what you’re saying”

“we’d be much better off” (y/n)curses softly Carl and Oliva look at her strange but she doesn’t say anything.

“You know, I’m thinking Spencer. I’m thinking how rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts. But he is out there right now, gathering shit for me to make sure I don’t hurt any of the fine people that live here. He is swallowing his hate and getting shit done. That takes guts. “ he plays a hole then sends a wink at (y/n) she rolls her eyes “And then there’s you... the guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me to get me to do his dirty work so he could take Rick’s place. So I got to ask. If you want to take over why not just kill Rick yourself and just take over?” And Now Spencer realizes that someone is throwing dirt on his face trying to bury him alive. The asshole should have just minded his own business and lived.

“What? no, no. I didn’t- I don’t-”

“Oh god” (y/n) whispers to herself as she turns her back from the scene that she knows is about to play out. She doesn’t want to see this. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

“You know what I’m thinking cause I have a guess. It’s because you got no guts.” (Y/n) hears the unsheathing of his knife and Oliva’s gasping. She doesn't need to see or hear to know what happened so she covers her ears and clothes her eyes... She can still hear him talking though.

“Ohh. How embarrassing. There they are. They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts. I’ve never been so wrong in my whole life.” She opens her eyes a bit to see Carl and Oliva shocked at whatever they see in front of them but she is not tempted to turn around.

“Someone ought to get out there and clean this mess up. Oh. Anyone want to finish the game? C’mon. Anybody? Anybody? C’mon. I was winning.”

Then a gunshot.

“SHIT!”

Suddenly (Y/n) is jumping off the porch and racing to Negan “ DADDY”

”what the shit?! shit! you just- you tried to kill me?! In front of my LITTLE GIRL. YOU SHOT LUCILLE.” Negan waved his bat as he pulled a shaking (y/n) into his chest

“she got in the way.”

Taking a few deep breaths Negan kisses (y/n) forehead and pushes her towards the house. Carl pulls her back up on to the porch he gives the boy an appreciative nod. He picks up the bullet shell.

“What is this? What is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade. You may be stupid, darlin’, but you showed some real ingenuity here. Arat, move that knife up out on that girl’s face. Lucille’s beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours? Unless you tell me who made this”

It was me I made it”

“ You see, I just think you’re lying. And you lying to me now?! such a shame. Arat’s gonna have to cut up that pretty face... One more try”

“It was me”

‘Oh, you are such a badass! Fine. Carl, take her into the house. Arat... kill somebody”

Suddenly there is a one-shot and a body fall on the porch. (Y/n) and Carl turns around to see Oliva dead on the floor she gasps. Carl pushes her in the house and rushes to Oliva’s side but she is already dead.

Inside the house (Y/n) slides down against the wall next to the front door and covers her ears burying her head between her legs. She takes a few deep breathes trying to calm the panic that seems to be crawling up her throat. (Y/n) jumps as the door swings open she relaxes when she realizes it’s Negan. He throws a hand over her shoulder as he walks her outside.

“Rick, you should thank this little one right here. Your kitchen was a god damn mess and I was going to leave it like that but she cleaned it up. My little angel sure did.”

“(Y/n)?!” Rick looks completely shocked and horrified as he sees her. The little girl who used to beg for his hat and badge.

“ You two know each other don’t ya. well, I’m sorry to cut this reunion short but we got to go. I’ll see you next time”

Negan walks away with an arm over (y/n)’s shoulder and Lucille on his other and Sebastian on the tip of Lucille. As he looks back at Rick he kisses her forehead.

“This was a very interesting day, wasn’t Bunny honey”

“yes”.

Rick hugs Daryl as they make their way into Hilltop. But as he hugs him he whispers something into his ear “ (Y/n)’s alive” he pulls away “ Negan. She’s with Negan”. Daryl doesn’t know what to say or do his heart pains at the thought of his daughter”

“Don’t worry we’ll get her back”

“If she wants to come back,” Carl says but no one hears him.

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#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x daughter reader #negan #negan fanfiction #fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #negan x reader #lucille

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all1e23 · 5 years

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Astrophile [Pt.2]

Chapter: Meteorite

Summary: Bucky takes Ori to the bookstore and meets the girl that has won his little comet’s heart before they go to weekly family dinner.

Warnings: So much fluff you may explode.

A/N: This chapter would not have happened without my beta @lokissoul That’s not a joke. I was about to lose my mind writing this chapter. She’s a saint. I know this probably isn’t going to go the way everyone thinks, but send me love anyway??? I’m needy, okay?!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Bucky has a tight but gentle hold on Orion’s hand as she skips along beside him. It’s finally Saturday, and for the first time in months, Bucky has the day off to spend with his best girl. Of course, they spent their morning the way they spend every Saturday morning, with waffles from Junior’s Bakery. They have been getting waffles at Junior’s for as long as Orion can remember and it’s one of the few things she won’t share with anyone else. No matter how much Uncle Steve begs, it’s just between her and her daddy.

And, yeah, Bucky rubs that in Steve’s more than he should. Bucky’s in no way perfect, and he knows that.

This Saturday is no different from Saturdays in the past except for the little girl bouncing up and down next to him, barely able to contain her excitement over visiting a bookstore. He doesn’t get to see her this excited very often and certainly not over some silly little shop. Orion’s always been interested in books and loves any chance to learn something new, but she’s never this excited.

Bucky has a feeling it has something to do with a specific bookstore owner.

“Why do you like this bookshop so much, comet?” Bucky asks, giving her hand a gentle squeeze to try to gain her attention. Orion stops skipping and begins to match Bucky’s pace, looking up at him; she shrugs as she tries to brush her curls out of her eyes, but they just bounce right back.

“Miss. Y/n always gives me books, daddy. She lets me pick out as many as I want and then I can read them without even buying them. She doesn’t say I have to read them at home. She isn’t mean like some grown-ups. She’s really, really nice.”

Bucky nods as they walk along in silence and Orion goes back to skipping, unable to keep her little legs calm from all the enthusiasm bubbling up. After a few jumps over sidewalk cracks, she looks back up at Bucky.

“And, one time she got us pizza.”

He chuckles and scoops her up so he can place a kiss on her cheek.

“You are a little too much like me, baby doll.”

Orion grins and wraps her arms around his neck giving him a tight squeeze. “Is that the shop?” Bucky nods towards an old brick building with wood trim that was painted a dark blue and covered in hand-painted gold stars. ‘Aquila Books’ is painted above the door in a similar gold to match the stars. Orion wiggles out of Bucky’s arms and she bolts inside, ignoring Bucky’s protests to wait for him. It’s not like anything will happen in the tiny bookstore! He could hear Orion telling him so the moment she is back by his side, It's small, daddy! Nowhere to hide!

“Miss. Y/n! Miss. Y/n! Miss. Y/n!”

Orion runs around the counter and slams into Y/n’s legs, hugging them as tightly as she can. Y/n has to grip the counter to stay standing after the unexpected impact, but she has a huge smile on her face when she looks down at the little girl.

“Ori, sweet girl! I wasn’t expecting you in today. I thought Aunt Nattie and Uncle Clint had something they were doing today?” She wonders aloud, beaming down at the little girl as she brushes her curls out of her eyes.

“I brought my daddy!” Orion squeals loudly.

“He has the whole day with me, and we are doing whatever I want, and I said I wanted to come see you! I want to show him all the books I like, and we can get some to read together, and I told him about my name book and, and -”

“Ori,” A deep voice rumbles from behind the counter, filled with humor but still has a gentle dad-like authority.

“Deep breath, comet.”

Y/n looks up to find a tall- no, make that a tall, very built man standing on the other side of the counter. If she didn’t already know, he was a fireman she would have assumed he was a secret assassin or superhero. There’s a soft smile on his face, and despite his size, he doesn’t look intimidating in the least. The crinkle by his pale blue eyes makes her heart beat a little faster, though, she’s unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I take it you are dad?” Y/n asks, grinning at him.

Bucky chuckles and rests his elbows on the counter leaning over to see his daughter still clinging to Y/n’s legs as she strokes a hand through Orion’s hair. It’s strange for him to see Orion so attached to someone outside their little makeshift family.

“Yeah, that little koala is all mine.” He replies with a soft gaze towards his daughter. “I’m Bucky by the way.”

“Y/n L/n.”

She smiles at him and gently boops Orion on her nose meeting the little girl’s eyes. “I think if you go into my office, there may be a few books on my desk that I was saving for you.”

Orion’s eyes light up, and she takes off before Bucky has a chance to stand back up.

“I’ll just wait here I guess,” Bucky shouts after Orion, and they hear a little ‘kay’ from the back office. Y/n chuckles and goes back to unloading the boxes of books she was working on before they came in.

“Thank you for what you did the other day.”

Y/n looks at him, brows furrowed in confusion, waiting for him to explain what he is talking about.

“Her name and the books,” Bucky clarifies. “I’ve been trying to get her to like her name since she learned how to say it. It doesn’t help that the girls in her class make fun of her. I didn’t think bullies started when they could barely read. It’s just–Thank you. It means a lot.”

Y/n smiles and shakes her head as if she did what anyone would do. It’s no big that she closed down her shop for half a day, lost money on all the books she has given to Orion and spent hours comforting someone else’s daughter. To Y/n it truly wasn’t. She would do it for Orion any day of the week.

“I don’t mind at all,” Y/n assures him. “She’s the sweetest little girl. I love it when she comes in with Nat. It’s nice to know the younger generations are still reading.”

Bucky watches as she types away on the old computer, in what looks to be an MS-DOS system, and begins to scan new books into the system. It takes a few tries before the ancient device accepts the barcode and she can move on to the next one.

“Okay. I gotta ask.” Bucky says, breaking the silence. “You seem too nice to be friends with Nat. What’s going on there?”

Y/n snorts and leans her hip against the counter as she continues to scan books into what Bucky is convinced is the first computer ever invented. “I met her when I was out on this terrible date. The guy was awful. Just terrible and I guess Nat was there on a date with Clint. Anyway, the guy tried to get handsy. He tried the whole reach over the shoulder one too many times and Nat saved me.”

“Broke his arm?” Bucky winces, already knowing the answer. He’s heard this story from Natasha, but he had no idea Y/n’s the woman that Natasha saved that day.

“What?!” Y/n screeches at the thought of something like that happening. “No! She made Clint come over and pretend to be my brother. Why in God’s name would you think she broke his arm?”

Bucky’s laughing so hard he’s buckled over the counter, trying to catch his breath and control his laughter. He takes a few deep breaths to get his laughing fit under control, he looks up at her and says with a smirk, “I can guarantee she broke his arm later that night.”

“I would hope not. He’s a moron but doesn’t need a broken arm.” Y/n grins at the amusement he finds in this whole situation and shakes her head. “Ori said you like ‘space stuff’?” She asks, steering the conversation far away from her love life. It’s not really something she wants to talk about.

“I am a little obsessed. Or so Nat says. Are you reading anything good right now?”

He blows out a breath and tucks his hair behind his ears, eyes wide as he tries to remember the last time he even had a minute to read. Five or so years ago sounds about right. “I don’t really have a second to read anymore, but I love anything about Mars. Anything non-fiction. That book you gave Ori about the constellations was perfect. We read a bit this morning.”

Y/n’s whole face lights up and something in Bucky’s chest stirs in a way he doesn’t like. Or, maybe he does? It’s not a feeling he’s used to and he’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing yet.

“Good. I’m glad.”

Orion comes running out of the office holding up a stack of three books in her arms, and she points to the sticky note on top, showing Bucky it says Ori in a loopy script with a heart next to it.

“See, daddy?” She taunts good-naturedly. “I told you she loves me.”

“Who wouldn’t love you, comet?” Bucky grins at the blush that pops up on her chubby cheeks.

“Daddddy,” She whines.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat and tries to wipe the grin off his face. “I’ll keep the cute stuff for home. Are you ready to go? You said you wanted to hit the zoo and we still have to ride into Manhattan.” Orion shakes her head and grabs his hand, tugging as hard as she can to get him to follow her.

“Come on, daddy. You have to see my chair!”

“Your chair?” Bucky asks, looking at Y/n with a raised brow. She simply chuckles and points to the far corner where the large windows are. A huge red leather high back chair was there with a ton of squishy pillows piled up on the seat.

There are a few smaller chairs and stools placed through the small space, but Orion’s chair is by far the biggest and most comfortable spot in the whole place, and Orion had claimed it the very first time Natasha had brought her in. It’s been hers ever since. While Orion is dragging her dad around the store Y/n takes the chance to gather up a few books for the two of them to take home.

“Okay, I think we are ready.”

Y/n looks up at the sound of Bucky’s voice and smiles, handing over a bag full of books. Bucky takes the bad from her hands and he frowns.

“What’s this?”

“Just some books I thought you might like and some you could read to Ori.” She shrugs as he looks into the bag. ‘There’s ‘Packing for Mars’ that I think she will really like and no collection is complete without ‘The Magic School Bus Lost In The Solar System’. I also put ‘The Astronauts Handbook’ in there because she likes that sort of thing. All about lists and making sure she’s ready to blast off.”

Bucky looks back up to meet her eyes even though she’s still rambling and avoiding meeting his gaze. Y/n’s a little worried she had gone too far so she keeps her eyes on the bag. He didn’t know her in the slightest, and here she is just inserting herself in his life, in his daughter’s life.

“I also added a few grown-up books. I thought you would like ‘The Martian’.” She adds, finally looking up to find him smiling warmly at her.

He stares for a moment too long, and Orion starts to tug on his shirt because she’s ready to get her books and get to the zoo. He quickly shakes his head and smiles at Y/n.

“What - what do I owe you?” Bucky asks, digging out his wallet.

“Nothing. I don’t take payment from Ori. She’s my favorite customer.” She waves him off and winks at Orion.

“Nu-huh,” Bucky argues. “This is like a hundred bucks worth of books. I can’t just take ‘em.”

It was clear how much he didn’t like taking the handout, the guilt in his voice made her heartache. It was maybe seventy bucks worth of books, and the amount of bragging Ori does about the shop (according to Natasha) she’s bound to make it up with recommendations. Even if she didn’t, Y/n didn’t mind so much. Anything for Orion. The guilt on Bucky’s face was still there and growing by every silent second. Natasha wasn’t kidding when she said he was a good man and good men deserve a break. Especially ones that put their lives on hold to raise their daughter all on their own.

“Okay, you can pay me back by taking time for yourself and actually reading the books I put in that bag.” She grins at him, slipping her hands in her back pockets avoiding the money he is trying to give her.

“Your money’s no good here. I’ll just sneak it back into one of Ori’s books or give her double books when she comes in with Nat next week. You can’t beat me at this.”

Bucky slips his wallet into his pockets and sighs as he bends down to pick up Orion, slinging her up onto his shoulders. He slides the plastic bag on his arm, and Orion rests her chin on top of her dad’s head, her little hands curling in his hair. “I guess I can let you win this one time. Next time I’m paying.”

Y/n chuckles and holds up her hands in surrender. “See you this week Ori. Have fun with your dad.”

She winks at her and Orion busts into giggles at some inside joke he wasn’t privy to.

“What was that all about?” Bucky asks as he dips down just enough she won’t bump her head on the way out the door.

“Nothing, daddy.” She says, waving to Y/n through the front windows of the shop. “It’s between girlfriends. Just me and Miss. Y/n.”

He chuckles and gives her legs a squeeze. “All right, comet. Let’s get a move on. The zoo is waiting!”

——

“Uncle Stevie!!” Orion shouts through her Uncle’s brownstone, her little feet thudding rapidly as she runs through the hallway and into the kitchen. She jumps up on the tall blond that had already crouched down the second he heard his niece’s squeals. He wraps his arms around her and stands up to his full height still holding her, squeezing her as tightly as he can without hurting her.

“Oh, man peanut. I’ve missed you buckets and buckets full.” He kisses her temple and both her cheeks. “You been hiding from me? What gives? I thought I was your favorite uncle?”

“Nope! Wrong again man. I’m her favorite uncle.” Sam calls through the kitchen window where he is outside grilling with Clint and Nat, but there is no way Sam is going to let that slide! Steve is not her favorite uncle.

“Well…” Orion mumbles, giving Steve an apologetic smile. “Uncle Sammy gives me ice cream lots.”

“Ha! Told you!” Sam shouts back.

Steve looks at Orion and sticks out his bottom lip. “I thought we had a bond? I get traded for ice cream! I’m crushed.”

She rolls her eyes and leans over, whispering in Steve’s ear. “You’re my favorite, but you can’t say it out loud. Uncle Sammy and Uncle Clint will cry .” Steve chuckles and plops her down on the kitchen island, setting her plastic bag next to her.

“Our secret, peanut,” Steve promises.

Bucky wanders into the kitchen and grabs a beer from the cooler that’s propped open on the ground next to the dark oak kitchen island. “You’ve got to stop running away from me, comet. Second time today you took off running and didn’t wait for me. Here it’s one thing, but at the bookstore, you can’t do that.”

“Bookstore?” Steve asks, brow raised at Bucky. “Hey, by the way.”

Bucky snorts at the less than meaningful greeting from his oldest friend and pats his shoulder. “Hey, punk. We went to that little bookstore that Nat always takes Ori to. I told her she could do whatever she wanted today since I had the day off and that’s what she picked–”

“–Oh! Look at my books Uncle Stevie!” Orion squeals, cutting her dad off. Steve grins at Bucky who is now glaring at Natasha as she walked in carrying a plate of burgers and grilled chicken.

“She’s rude like that because of you,” Bucky tells Nat.

“Me? I don’t think so.” She says sweetly. “I teach my baby niece manners. Unlike some of her uncles.”

Orion lays all five of her new books out on the counter and looks at her uncles and aunt. “These are all my books! Miss. Y/n gave them all to me and she gave daddy some books, too.”

“You got a girl giving you books?” Sam asks, sliding up next to Bucky with Clint following close behind.

“Why am I just hearing you got a girl?”

“You’ve met my girl.” He nods to Ori still sitting on the counter and snuggled up against Steve’s chest. “She’s my only girl.”

“What did you think about Y/n?” Natasha asks, grinning widely. “She’s sweet isn’t she?”

Natasha’s interest piqued now that she knows Y/n was in the store when they went by this afternoon. Bucky takes a sip of his beer and shrugs at the question. Why would what he thinks about her matter at all?

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t really pay much attention. I’m glad she’s sweet on Ori though. Comet adores her, and that’s all I care about. Plus, she helped her with those girls that were bullying her over her name without cutting their pigtails.”

He sets Natasha with a pointed look, and she smirks, shrugging her shoulder.

“No one hurts my girl,” Natasha says evenly. “Isn’t that right Ori baby?”

Yep!” Orion beams at her aunt, snuggling further into Steve’s arms. “Aunt Nattie doesn’t joke daddy. No one messes with her family and gets away with it.”

Bucky and Steve both set a rather unamused look upon the redhead.

“You didn’t really answer me.” Natasha ignores the glares from both men, setting her attention back on the matter at hand. “What did you think of her? Pretty?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I told you, I wasn’t really paying much attention.” Bucky laughs as Natasha’s shoulders slump. “Sorry to disappoint you. Oh! You ever gonna tell her you broke that guy’s arm?”

That got a grin out of Natasha, but she shook her head. “She’s too sweet to know all the gory details, James.”

“Why don’t you bring her by for dinner one time?” Steve suggests, and Orion’s whole face lights up. “Yes! Aunt Nattie! Yes! Ask Miss.Y/n to come over and have pizza!”

“I don’t know Ori baby.” She mutters and looks over at Bucky, arching her brow. “Are you okay with her coming to family dinner next week? It’s at your place?”

Bucky frowns and shakes his head looking around at the goofy grin on everyone’s face. “Why would I care? She’s your friend, and Ori likes her. She can come over anytime she wants. Come on, comet. Let’s get ya cleaned up before we eat.”

He sets his beer down and holds his arms out for her to jump into them, which she does happily. Clint wraps his arms around his wife’s waist and places a kiss on her cheek, but her attention is on Bucky walking out of the room. The sink in the hall bathroom flips on, and Clint rests his chin on her shoulder whispering in her ear, “You’ve got that look on your face. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Natasha confesses sourly. “I thought Bucky and Y/n would have hit it off is all. They have so much in common, and Ori loves her. They seemed like a perfect match. I figured…”

She shrugs and looks over her shoulder at her husband.

“I know how much you hate it when you’re wrong, but I gotta call this one babe.” The glare he is getting from the petite redhead in his arms makes him grin, he places a kiss on the tip of her nose as a silent apology.

“I think you might have been off on this one. Doesn’t seem like she made an impression on Bucky at all.”

“Looks that way,” She mutters quietly, watching Bucky carrying Orion back into the room by her ankles and passing her off to Steve. Maybe Natasha is wrong. Perhaps he really doesn’t want to date anyone, and maybe, they aren’t as compatible as she thinks. Bucky glances towards the kitchen and his gaze land on the books on the counter and back up only to find Natasha watching him. He clears his throat and quickly looks away making her frown quickly fade.

No.

There is something there.

They are both too stubborn to see it.

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#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #single dad bucky #fireman!bucky #bucky x reader au #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #daddy!bucky

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

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Academic Misgivings (Part 6) - Peter Parker

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemies either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you. He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

Thanks for following this series so far! This is where the story starts to get busy in regards to Peter Remember, 250 notes for the next part! Have a fun read!

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE

The grip of morning grogginess still held tight to you as you walked into the school. A chill had fallen over New York so cold that not even your sweatshirt could quite quell it on your walk from home. Just as you neared the doors of Midtown High, just when you were about to be welcomed by the heat of it’s walls, the unmistakable, uppity nasal pitch of Flash Johnson’s voice reached your ears. At least you would have the flame of your annoyance to warm you.

“Y/N! Wait up! Hold on!” With a pout you waited by the door and shifted your weight on your feet in a poor attempt to generate your own bubble of heat. Flash rushed up to you with a grin on his face. “Any progress?”

“What? What do you mean?” Your tone was snappy, eager to escape the unkind cold. Autumn’s grip on the city was loosening, giving way to Winter.

“With Parker? Anything?” At the mention of Peter’s name, you stiffened. Images of your tutoring session the day before flashed before you, taunted you with your still unresolved feelings towards the boy. Peter had tried to comfort you, understand you, and that was more than anyone had done in a long time. More than your family had done since starting high school.

“Uh...no,” you replied and pushed open the doors to the school. The unwelcoming foyer still harbored some of the outside chill, but you felt instantly warmed as the door shut behind you. With a long breath you started towards the next set of doors when you felt a horrible rush of cold against your back.

“No? You haven’t like, charmed him?” You spun on your heel and glared at Flash. Your proximity forced him to take a step back, visible fearful of your response.

“With what? My womanly wilds? This isn’t some cliche teen rom-com.” You muttered a curse under your breath and pushed open the next set of doors.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Flash praised as he trailed after you. The hallways of the school had began to fill with a rush of students meeting friends at their lockers. The area around yours was empty and you made a beeline to the small safe haven.

“I know I’m right, Flash,” you flung back at him, hoping your biting words would deter him from following you. Yet, to no avail. He rambled on at your side as you entered your combination.

“Yes, yes, it’s like a uh...spy movie! You’re sneaking around, dancing circles around him, gathering the intell. The perfect spy!” You sighed as you pulled your locker open. “So you should have his pass-code by now, right?”

“Flash,” you turned to him and leaned against the locker banks with a furiously flat expression. “If you are going to be this pushy, you can call this partnership kaput. Unless...you want to talk to Peter?” His dark brown eyes widened, eyebrows raised but still not grazing your expectations.

“No, no,” he stepped back with hands raised, “I trust you. I gotch you, fam.” You gritted your teeth at his use of slang. If it couldn’t be used in an academic paper, you felt it was a lesser word; something your English teacher before Ms. Lauren had enforced. It didn’t help that Flash was trying to ‘be cool’ with you either.

“Okay then,” you said with arms crossed over your chest, “run along then?” Flash nodded and rushed off. He called over his shoulder as you watched him go, still annoyed.

“See you at practice!” Content with having torn away his confident facade, you returned your attention back to your locker. You plucked your book out of the compartment and shoved them in your bag rather roughly, too tired to care.

When you tried to sleep the night before, after the tutoring session with Peter, you had tossed and turned. Lack of sleep did not aid in your attitude, especially when Flash was involved. Thoughts of different realities, ones where you and Peter had grown up as neighbors or were close friends had filtered through your mind when your head hit the pillow like some sort of twisted, romantic fiction. Things could have been so different; you could be meeting him at his train stop and walking with him to school, chatting about anything that came to mind. You could be dating him.

You shivered at the thought but you couldn’t tell exactly why. All you knew was that you were jealous, bitter even, when it came to Peter Parker, maybe even angry. Yet, somehow, through whatever magic means, he could make you feel like you were walking on air. It sickened you, made you stomach work itself up into knots.

The discomfort lingered when your mind stalled on Peter and it, that discomfort, had become a strange ally in the mess you had created with Flash. You only hoped once the plan was done, however it turned out, that the sense of nerves would leave you be. Until then, you would close your locker and act like everything was fine. Even when you accidentally lock eyes with Peter as you pass through the hall. You would return his wave and walk to class, wholly ignoring the burning that had bloomed in your cheeks.

“That’s why I think the CIA knew Kennedy was going to die,” MJ finished, in the same tone in which she had detailed her theory. Mr. Harrington, mouth agape, had asked a decathlon practice question regarding JFK that had stirred MJ into ranting. The team, even Flash, remained quiet, all eyes trained on the curly haired girl as she sat back. “And if I’m not here tomorrow, they got me too.”

“W-Well...then...practice...adjourned,” Mr. Harrington stammered as he rubbed a hand against his head. Slowly, the team stood from their seats while MJ examined her nails nonchalantly, picking away some paint from her art class. You shook your head at her and smiled when she met your gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing, just...that was intense,” you replied. You shuffled out of your seat and grabbed your bag from the spot on the floor beside your feet.

“Yeah well, so is life,” MJ sighed and was ready to continue when someone behind you cleared their throat. You turned and saw Peter, a loose blue jacket hanging off of his slim shoulders that made his already bright brown eyes all the more puppy-like.

“Are you ready to head out or…”

“I have more theories,” MJ interjected and you glanced over your shoulder.

“Um, maybe another time, MJ, okay?” She nodded in response and you looked back to Peter. “Alright, let’s go.”

You followed Peter out of the school’s library in a rather comfortable silence that was broken when MJ was safely out of earshot. Peter glanced at you with still wide eyes and you raised your eyebrows at him in a silent question.

“MJ’s kinda scary, right? It’s not just me?” You ‘tsked’ and shook your head as you both walked down the hall towards the school’s main exit.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you mused aloud, “she’s just...eccentric.” Peter nodded and you caught the hints of a smile on his lips.

“Uh so, the coffee shop?” Peter said, although it sounded more like a question as he pushed open the school’s main door. He held it open for you, a gesture that made part of stomach twinge with giddiness.

“Yeah?” You questioned as Peter fell back into step at your side.

“Have you ever been inside? I hear some of the girls at school talking about it. Apparently they have like fancy drinks and stuff.”

As Peter talked, his rather long steps would fumble and his shoulder would brush against yours. He rattled on about the shop as you crossed the street, but none of his words sunk in. You were much too distracted by the every-now-and-then touches. “Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do you even what a Pink Drink is?” Your brows furrowed and sensing you confusion, Peter smiled. “I was talking about Starbucks.”

“Oh, no, I don’t, at least I’m not sure. It’s not a decathlon question so,” Peter let out a laugh and you felt your skin go so warm it dulled the afternoon chill.

“That’s a fair point,” he beamed, “oh, hold on. Let me get that.” He rushed past you and opened yet another for you. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit your nose but it did little to pull your thoughts from Peter’s acts of kindness.

“Th-Thanks,” you murmured and stepped inside only to be hit fully by the aroma of java. The coffee shop was quaint, painted in dark blues with oak detailing on tabletops that would make it look more like a custom movie set if it weren’t for the customers.

A few scattered, circular tables with metal chairs held small succulent plants that, in this weather, had to be fake. Surrounding the tables were booths, one with a mother and her children who happily devoured cookies triple the size of their small hands. One of the children seemed transfixed on the hanging pendant lamps above the table that gave off a slightly yellowed glow. If it hadn’t been for the bell on the door jiggling behind you, you too would have joined in on the moth-like fascination.

“Hey, Y/N, do you want anything?” You turned around and saw Peter pulling his wallet from his pocket. Under the natural glow of the lights, Peter’s brown hair looked sandy and his features enticingly more soft. Even the golden amber fleck in his irises shown a little more delicately. “Y/N?”

“Um, no, I’m good. I’ll find a table.” You ducked your head to hide your burning cheeks. He had caught you staring at him and you knew that he knew it. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you did with him.

You passed by the booth of bustling, unruly children and their haggard looking mother to a table tucked away in the corner. When you pulled the rather heavy metal chair out from the table top, the leg released a grunt of their own. The sound didn’t seem to entirely annoy the other patrons of the cafe so, with a calming heart rate, you unpacked your tutoring materials. Just as you pulled out your worn and worked trivia textbook, Peter came into view.

“I got you a cookie,” he said, setting down a plate with two gooey looking, homemade cookies. “The menu said ‘not-so-chocolate-chip’ so it might be vegan?” His face screwed up with thought as he took the seat across from you. With a shy smile at you, Peter set the mug in his other hand down too before it could slip through his sweater paws.

“Oh, you didn’t have to-” you cut yourself off, “thanks, Peter.” The shy smile turned sweet, sweet enough to rot your teeth if you didn’t look away. “So, do you want to focus on any area of questions in particular or….”

Peter took a swift sip of what looked like hot chocolate which, judging by his face, was much too hot to drink. “I uh, I looked at the site you recommended and went through like a bunch of literature questions so anything other than that would be cool.”

“Alright,” you cracked open your textbook to a random page. “Science good with you?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Peter said before he blew on the brew in his mug. It was childishly endearing and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread to your lips.

“Who was the first woman to win a Nobel Prize 1903 and in what field?” You could see the gears in Peter’s mind working before he lifted his widened eyes to you in a slight panic.

“Marie Curie, physics,” he took a breath, “I don’t know why I blanked on that one.”

“It’s okay,” you grin, “even geniuses have their day.” You didn’t really mean for the words to come out so bitterly, but when you glanced at Peter’s face, you saw that it must have sounded rude. “Uh...What is the term for a product of a body's mass, including its linear velocity?”

“Momentum,” he said quickly, brown eyes scanning over your features. “Y/N are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied plainly as you flipped a page of the book, “which famous, billionaire philanthropist created-”

“Do you ...you don’t like me, do you?” His question gave you pause and silence when you saw true curiosity in his eyes. You swallowed hard and tried to suss out your tangled feelings in that very second; the same feelings that had been keeping you up at for the past three nights. There was no hope, so you continued on as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Which famous, billionaire philanthropist funded the building of Jupiter’s most iconic landing vehicles?” Peter was quiet and when you looked up from the textbook, you realized it was a selective silence. “You know this one,” you pressed, “you work for him.”

“Tony Stark,” he murmured, so lowly it sent a shiver down your spine. “C-can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You repeated, a lump forming in your throat. You could feel every emotion, every thought and doubt you had ever held inwards bubble up your throat en mass. Despite your fiery, biting tone, Peter still looked at you with those eyes with that effortless gaze that made your stomach twist.

“Yeah,” he replied and you wondered if he understood your anger. He must have; it was written all over your face. You yourself could feel the tips of your ears warmed, hands curled into fists so tight that the wounds from the Chicago trip ached with memory.

“I-I…” A wave of coldness, not unlike the chills from the morning air washed over you. Drowned in thoughts you could no longer ignore, once foggy emotion filled your ears until you could hear nothing but your own truth and the beat of your heart.

“Y/N,” only Peter’s voice broke through the haze and you hated it. “I told you on the bus home that you could talk to me.” his brown eyes, the ones you had hardened yourself against for years; the ones you had thought you hated for so long now studied you with a gentleness you had never felt or seen before.

“What’s wrong is,” you took a breath and tore your eyes away from Peter’s. “When I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted and it makes angry. Or made me angry, I’m not sure anymore but here I am, tutoring you like nothing is wrong.”

“I make,” you glanced at him wearily, “made, you angry?”

“Because...because I was scared.” The feeling, that intestine twisting, heart aching feeling put to words in a single breath. It felt too easy, too simple, but there it was. Out there for Peter to see.

“Scared...of me?” His brows furrowed and you squeezed your eyes shut in exasperation.

“No,” you shook your head and hands, “not you. Just of...what could have been if things were different.” The last word tasted salty, overcooked in the crock-pot of your brain or over seasoned by self hatred; it was too charred to tell. “Sorry, that was stupid I-”

“You mean what still could be,” Peter interrupted. You opened your mouth to speak but his tone, the kind that an authority might use to talk to some untamed youth, stole the words off your tongue.

“I…” Peter gave you a half smile, barely there at all but you saw it nonetheless.

“Mr. Stark has taught me a lot of things but one thing he taught me a little while ago was that...you are more than what’s under the mask.”

“Mask?” Peter’s eyes widened for a moment but he quickly collected himself.

“It’s uh..it’s a metaphor. Anyway, sometimes that means you’re more than what you think you are or believe you are. If you think that you’re...you’re-”

“Unworthy, inadequate” you whispered, but Peter seemed to hear it because he paused. You lifted your gaze slightly, “for lack of a better word, I guess.”

“Okay, you think you’re inadequate with who you are now,” he continued, “but you are so much more. You just have to have someone, or something, to show you that you’re not. That like...all you want, it’s possible. You just have to look.”

While you were spilling your guts out to the person you had considered your opposition for years, the din of the coffee shop had disappeared. Now, in the resounding stillness of your conversation with Peter, you were shocked as you noticed no one seemed to hear anything of what you had said. It was a comfort alongside Peter’s advice, but it left you with one feeling you couldn’t share: gulit. Peter’s kindness made you sick in some other way now, the kind that riddled you with regret and Flash’s voice in your ear that whispered ‘sabotage’.

“That’s…” you started but had no clue how to finish, “that’s...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Peter consoled. You studied his expression, looked for some hint of suspicion in his dark honeyed eyes; some ulterior motive in the small smile on his pink lips. There had to be something, something you could use to comfort yourself, to tell yourself you weren’t wrong for plotting against him. There wasn’t.

“Well, I ruined our tutoring session,” you mumbled softly but Peter shook his head. The motion sent his chestnut colored hair, normally styled in some fashion, to a more wild, natural-looking state of slight-curl.

“No, you didn’t, I brought it up, I pushed it. He leaned back in his chair shyly, “and..m-maybe I can tutor you now?”

“Tutor me?”

“On..how to see yourself,” he elaborated. “I want to help you.”

“Careful,” you teased in the hopes of lightening the mood, “say that enough and you’ll end up being Spiderman.”

“Oh! Haha, that’s uh ...that's funny. I wouldn’t though, superheroes right? They must be like crazy or something.” You couldn’t help the slight grin that spread along your lips as Peter melted into a puddle of jumbled words. How could he go from wonderful advice giver to stuttering mess within mere seconds? It might never make sense to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you pondered before a new thought, one that gave you a brief reprieve from the trouble swirling about your mind, came up. “Did you give him my note?”

“Spiderman? Oh, yeah, he-he got it. No worries. His reddened cheeks and goofy smile lightened your mood as your minor worry was put to ease. Peter sipped at his, what was now most likely, lukewarm hot chocolate and you looked back to your book. In your lap rested your hands where they restlessly played with each other’s fingers in the tense silence.

“So...how are you going to tutor me? Are you going to be my life coach?” Peter like out a breathy laugh and he made a strange face.

“Well, uh no, not a coach. I mean...we could….you need to know there’s more to you so we can try a bunch of different things.” You raised an apprehensive brow and Peter frowned.

“Like we’re trying to find a secret talent?”

“No, not like that but...sort of, I guess?” He scratched the back of his neck and hummed in thought, a habit he must have learned from someone. “We’re going to look for opportunities rather than wait for them, if-if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, I think it does.” You smiled and Peter mirrored the expression with all the more sweetness; to the point it made you heart skip a beat. Now all you had to do was look for the opportunity to tell Flash you could no longer go through with the plan.

“Oh crap.”

“What is it?”

“It’s getting late and if I’m late to dinner again, Aunt May might actually turn into the Hulk.” You glanced out the window and saw the darkened sky. The gross grey color pulled a frown to you lips as you turned back and met Peter’s gaze.

“I guess it is late,” you agreed softly, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s alright,” Peter stood from his chair and began to collect his things. “I’m sure your parents are worried about you too. We can study more tomorrow.”

You let out a scoff and shook your head. “I don’t think anyone is home to care.”

Peter cocked his head at your words and you realized how grim you had sounded. However, it was a sad truth if the nights prior were anything to go by. Before you could cover up, spill some white lie to sedate the concern on Peter’s face, he beat you to the punch.

“Do you wanna eat dinner with me?” The question sounded innocent and knowing Peter, it mostly likely was, yet it rendered you speechless anyway. “Well, I mean, my Aunt and I. You’re probably like super busy studying but I just thought that maybe-”

“I would like that.” Your reply seemed to catch Peter off guard. His book bag hung loosely in his grip as he looked at you with slightly widened eyes. For a split second you thought that maybe, like you had with his original suggestion of dinner, he was reading into your words.

“Ok, cool,” a steady smile, the one you had grown to know too well spread across his face.

“It could be the first tutoring session for me,” you said, hoping to cut through the air that had gathered thickly around the two of you. You packed up your books, shoved them deep in your bag and stood on somewhat shaky legs. You had been sitting with Peter for hours.

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Peter gushed as he picked up the plate of long ago eaten cookies, “May will not let you leave the house until you’re full of compliments.”

“Not food?” You asked, a small giggle in your voice that seemed to deepen Peter’s smile.

“I mean, she’s an adventurous cook but sometimes,” you followed Peter as he dropped off the plate in the dish bin on the cafe’s main counter, “it doesn’t turn out.”

“It isn’t good?” You asked as you both made your way towards the door. Peter smiled again, a bit more nervously this time.

“Sometimes it isn’t edible.” You laughed and stepped out into the chilled evening air of New York. “Queen is a train ride away. Fourth stop on the main loop.” He gestured towards the train way entrance where a large map was displayed out front. “Are you sure you don’t need to be home?”

“I’m sure,” you answered confidently, the first time you had done so since you had talked to Peter regularly. With a pleased smile, Peter started towards the train way awning with a little jump in his step that made you wonder why you had let your own jealousy tarnish him in the first place.

You followed him, through the ticket booths and machines, up the steps to the train platform. As Peter slipped his train pass back in a worn leather wallet, you eyed the other future passengers lingering on the awning. Tired looking men and women in business wear sat on rickety benches, immersed themselves in their phones while they waited. A tourist family was nose deep in a map as they bickered about location.

“You ride the train everyday?” You turned your eyes to Peter to find him already looking at you. His brown eyes held your gaze before he nodded and pulled them away.

“To school and sometimes back.” You stepped closer to him with a quirked brow.

“Sometimes? What do you do on the other times?” Peter’s mouth fell open and promptly shut.

“I uh...walk...around the city, swing around,” he hesitates for a moment you cock your head. “It’s a good way to clear your head you know.”

“I wouldn’t,” you replied, arms crossed over your chest. “I go from home to school and back again. My own bubble, I guess.” You bit the inside of your cheek and wished you had stayed quiet. Sharing, especially with Peter, was still new to you.

“Really? Well then, there we go,” Peter grinned enthusiastically, “we can start tutoring you there. If you’re inside all the time just studying you’re not going to try things. It might help.”

“It’s-

“Train arriving in two minutes,” an automated voice interrupted. The headlights of the oncoming train grew larger and larger and your words filtered out from your mind. Glimmers of memories, studying and the urge to be better than Peter Parker had clouded your mind. That was how you had lived for three years.

What would a past you have thought of you now, all buddy-buddy with your sworn enemy? Would she be confused or relieved that you weren’t so ...isolated? You imagined she would be, at least, hopeful. You were hopeful in the moment as you stepped through the open doors of the train car and sat next to Peter Parker.

Your legs knocked against his as he chatted with you about other ways he could get you to see other, better parts of yourself that you were too blinded to. Part of you still didn’t fully believe his speech, his belief in you. No one had believed in you like Peter before.

“There’s like volunteer dog park where we can go and-”

“You’re really thinking about this,” you observed wryly. Your tone must have pressed something in Peter’s mind and he gave you a concerned look.

“If you don’t, don’t wanna do this it’s okay, I’m just throwing things out there.”

“No, no,” you arched your body to face him, “I just...you’re eager. It’s surprising.” The racing of the train car against the tracks filled your ears and you wondered if Peter had heard you. His quiet wasn’t eery, but rather reflective.

“I mean, well, I enjoy spending time with you and you’re pretty cool,” he said, his voice barely audible over the clacking wheels. You responded with a half-hearted attempt at a smile before you averted your gaze towards the window. It all started to feel like too much, with everything, with Peter. Being honest with yourself had been a big step, a leap when you were truth with Peter.

Now it felt like you were floating on a cloud of your own nervous energy all the way from the train stop to the front door of the Parker’s apartment. The building on the outside looked like yours only in better shape that the complex you called home. The interior however, soothed you. Cream colored hallways gave off more comfort than the stoney, mottled grey you associated with your family’s apartment.

The old you would have hated such a comparison, even despised Peter for having a more home-like home. Now, the thought made you ache as he fiddled with the lock to open the door. It became more clear to you that Peter was not the issue; your own mindset was.

“Now, when I left she said she was making dinner so,” Peter gave you a weary look as he twisted the door knob. “Just...be prepared for-”

A loud beeping, high pitched and ear piercing cut through Peter’s warning. In the most confident you had seen him, Peter threw open the door and rushed inside. Shocked for a moment by his instinct, you followed behind and was greeted by a sight that was downright cartoonish.

A small woman with tanned skin and dark brown hair, Peter’s Aunt May, stood before a smoking oven with a sheet pan in her hands. She waved the pan wildly and seemed to be directing the smoke out of a tiny window in the cramped kitchen.

“I burnt the ham!” She shouted when Peter dove into the kitchen to grab an old newspaper. You rushed in after him and joined in on the maniac waving; the wild nature of which was only stirred up by the fire alarm’s screeching. “Who is this!?”

“Aunt May, Y/N. Y/N, this is Aunt May,” Peter’s introduction was poor under the loud noise but enough for the woman to stop waving the sheet pan to reach for you hand.

“Please, call me May,” she smiled, “Peter’s talked about you and his friends before. You’re close with the strange Michelle girl right?”

“May!” Peter was still waving and, with wide eyes, May continued to do so as well.

“Yeah, I am,” you yelled over the sound of flapping and beeping, “it’s nice to meet you!”

“And you too!” May shouted just as the fire alarm shut off. “Oof! That was loud!”

“Yeah, it was,” Peter said, a grin on his face as his Aunt’s voice was still at a higher volume. Even for the short period of time you had heard it, the alarm was still ringing in your ears.

“So….” May glanced between Peter and yourself, her cheek pinked from the waving. “Does take out sound okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter cheered and looked to you, “Italian, Thai, or Chinese?”

“Italian,” you replied and felt your stomach gurgle in anticipation for food.

“Oh, I like her,” May cooed as she picked up the phone, “we’re on the same frequency. Marko’s is the best spot in town. What do you like?”

After Aunt May had placed the order and a grand tour of the Parker’s ‘estate’ as she called it, you felt instantly at peace in their home. A year ago, you wouldn’t have dared to venture into Peter’s house but now you ogled at his room, decorated in all sorts of nerdy paraphernalia

“So you’re a Star Wars fan,” you mused aloud as you took in the sight of all of actions figures Peter had amassed that looked like they too were from the seventies.

“Oh, y-yeah, they’re like really good movies,” Peter said as he darted to your side. You could feel his gaze on you as you studied the merchandise closely. Strange aliens faces and one furry, long legged creatures you believed was Chewbacca.

“I’ve never seen them,” you admitted, “my family doesn’t have movie nights or anything like that so they slipped under the radar.” A gasp at your side pulled your gaze to Peter. His mouth was agape, brown eyes as wide as saucers.

“You haven’t seen the Star Wars movies?!”

“No….” you pursed your lips and gave Peter an incredulous look, “are they really that good?”

“Are they really that good! Ha!” He shook his head in disbelief and you couldn’t help but smile at his passion. “They’re better than good! We have to watch them sometime!”

You liked the way he said ‘we’ and how when the word leaped from the tip of his tongue, his eyes fell on your with all the softness you had ever seen in the world encapsulated. You opened your mouth to speak, to give voice to how you hated that you hadn’t talked, truly talked to him sooner. Before you could however, May’s voice cut through your haze.

“Foods here!”

“Thank for this, May,” you said as you slipped a plate beside the sink. May was tucking rinsed utensils into the dishwasher, humming softly to herself as she did.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she huffed, “a friend of Peter’s is always welcome here. Especially after all you’re been through, sweetie.”

“Aunt May,” Peter grumbled through slightly gritted teeth. You raised a hand at him and gave the woman a tender smile.

“Have you talked to someone about it? What happened in Chicago? I know a good therapist if you want to give that a try.” You shook your head and gave May a grateful glance.

“No, but I think I’m okay. I have Spiderman to thank for that,” you shot Peter a knowing smile, pleased that your note had made into the masked hero’s hands. Yet something about Peter’s expression was off. Slightly widened eyes that darted from you to his aunt, who also seemed a bit shaken, and his cheeks were red as if you had embarrassed him.

“Oh those heroes, they’re lifesavers, literally!” Aunt May laughed, loudly enough that you were pulled away from your wonderings.

You helped Aunt May load the rest of the dishes while Peter cleaned up the table. For the first time in a long time, you felt as if you were part of a family. A sense of belonging that had evaded you for a long time finally welcomed you with open arms. So when May wiped her hands on a towel and glanced and the clock in the kitchen, you heart sank into a pool of dread.

“Wow, time flies huh? It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I guess I should be heading out.” As you turned around, you missed the sorry smile Aunt May wore as she watched you grab your things.

“Thank you again, for dinner and having me,” you called as you stood idly by the door. Peter gave you a bright grin, one that twisted your stomach into knots.

“Anytime, Y/N,” May said as she entered the doorway the kitchen table. Her joyful glow was only amplified by the apartment’s soft yellow coloring, the same shade that reminded you of springtime and how much you did not want to go. “Peter, why don’t you walk Y/N home? Make sure she gets there all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Peter said and he leaned over, the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses as she opened the door. “You ready?”

You met his brown eyes and, without hesitation, nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

It was like deja vu, walking with Peter back to the train, sitting beside him so your legs brushed as you talked. He rattled on about Star Wars and you fired questions about the sci-fi society George Lucas had built.

“So it’s a Republic?”

“Well it was until Darth Vader helped The Emperor take over.” You gave him a puzzled look.

“The Emperor’s name is Emperor? So it’s Emperor Emperor?” Peter laughed, leaned his head back against the seat and shook his head. He turned, hair a mess from his position with cheery eyes.

“No, he has a name,” you gestured for him to tell you, “you have to watch it yourself.” You groaned and leaned back. The train jostled against the tracks and you could feel it through your entire body as you head rested against the wall. You turned, the same way Peter had, to look him in the eyes.

“How? I don’t have a DVD player and the TV is broken at my place.” Peter held your gaze and curled his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. You watched him and bit the inside of your cheek when you realized you were both just staring at each other.

“I have a digital copy of all of the movies so at the next tutoring session I can give them to you,” he suggested. “Or...you...you could come back over sometime? May likes you and I-I-”

Peter cut himself off and you felt your skin warm under his gaze. Brown eyes held your sole attention so strongly that you barely noticed the train come to a stop.

“I would like that,” you replied in a soft voice. Peter smiled and lifted his head.

“Oh crap, it’s your stop! Let’s go,” you both rushed up and towards the train doors as an automated voice prepared a countdown. The night air, even colder than the morning, greeted you and Peter with a vengeance. You hugged your sweatshirt close to your body and saw Peter do the same with his jacket.

An easy silence fell over the two of you as you walked down the street. You dreaded the moment your apartment complex would come into your line of sight so you kept your eyes on the sidewalk. You shoes seemed small compared to Peter’s, although his red converse were scuffed up the sides. The shoes didn’t go with how you saw Peter: all pristine and put together to spite your own jealousy as you felt you could never live up to the standard he set.

Now, you felt your understood the rough and torn shoes, why Peter wore them. There was so much more to him than the boy you thought you knew. You felt comfortable with him, to your our surprise, enough so that you told him how you once hated him. He subverted every expectation when he didn’t shy away at that and instead, stayed. No one had stayed before.

“Hey isn’t this your place?” Peter’s voice pulled your eyes to him then to the apartment complex on your left. It was, but you could see darkness in what was your family’s apartment window. No one was home, again.

“Yeah it is,” you sighed.

“It looks, dark, just always dark.” Peter observed and you realized he was used to be greeted when he went home. When he would leave you tonight, Aunt May would be there for him.

“Ha, yeah, my family is out so that doesn’t help it.”

“Like, out of town?” Peter questioned and you saw the concern laced in his brow.

“Yup, but they’ll be back. They’re just working,” it was a lie. You didn’t know when they’d be back. “The quiet is the perfect studying environment though.” Peter laughed at that and shook his head.

“You and your studying,” he mused and you raised a brow in his direction.

“I could say the same for you and your Stark Internship,” you fired back, “last semester you missed so many practices because you had to go and help.” You felt lingering jealousy bubble up your throat but you pushed it down. There was no space for that anymore. “It must be amazing, but I guess that’s what you do.”

“Well, I mean,” Peter started to fumbled and rocked back on his heels, “you’re pretty amazing too, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short.” You felt your whole body warm and, to hide the sense of pride his words gave you, you spoke up once more.

“Isn’t that what you’re going to help with?” Peter met your gaze and it seemed like all nervous energy tapered out of his body. His shoulders relaxed and a soft smile graced his face.

“Yeah, it is.” The almost cozy, relaxed silence fell over you and Peter once more. A passing car broke the momentary revelry and you stepped back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called, happy that you could smile as you said it.

“See you!” Peter shouted back as you crossed the street.

Part of you was tempted to turn around, check to see if Peter was still watching to make sure you got inside okay. You fought hard as you ascended the front steps but ultimately lost the battle. Once in the doorway, you turned to glance across the street. Peter was nowhere in sight.

He must walk fast, you surmised and started to unlock the door. Despite the slight disappointment, you were still smiling. You had a feeling that, even with the empty home that awaited you, you would fall asleep with that same smile; and, it turned out, you were right.

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