#the boba place near me knows my order and they got thrown off when I preordered something different

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

Must be this tall to Hunt| Boba Fett (tcw age so like 13/14)

Couldnt find a good teen boba gif, so heres bosk instead

Warnings: fake blame,

Reader: female

"You are expelled from the order-"

"What!?" Y/n shouted looking up at the council, "I did nothing! Master Plo! Reason with them!"

"I am sorry little one, I-"

Y/n was heart broken, looking up at the surrounding Jedi, this couldn't be true.

"Master Obi-Wan!" Y/n pleaded.

"Your attachments grow," Windu spoke, "and with them your anger."

"My anger?! My anger?!" Y/n shouted at him.

"Little one please." Plo pleaded, "I have brought a witness."

"You!?" Y/n argued, "Master I demand an answer! Why! Why would you- You out of all People!-"

She watched Anakin walk in guilt ridden on his face, "You!? Anakin! You!?"

He kept quiet as Fives walked in, her world stopping.

"Y-Your lieing!" She shouted, "Fives?! Not you! I trust you and you do this!?"

"Arc Trooper Fives." Windu spoke, " what have you seen Padawan Y/n do?"

Fives looked at her, "I. Saw Genral Y/n with a clone trooper,"

"Im with troopers everyday!" Y/n defended.

"What was Padawan Y/n doing with this clone trooper."

"...intercourse sir." Fives responded.

"Thats Obsurded Fives! And you know it!" Y/n argued, "You're my brothers- Why in gods name would I fuck any of you!"

"Y/n! That is enough!" Plo argued.

"You believe this crap!? You're suppose to have MY back!" Y/n demanded, "I'd have your back no matter what! And you turn on me!"

"Are there any other witnesses?" Fisto spoke.

"Yes." Windu spoke, "bring them in."

Y/n watched, her brothers, the wolf pack, Commandos and even some from the Corosaunt Gaurd walk in, and they strung there string of lies and they strung them high and low, entagled the lies beyond untanglement.

"Padawan L/n is to be expelled from the Order and that is our final verdict."

The platform she was on went downward, the clone troopers who had made there testimonies were gathered at the bottom, a path for her to go through.

"Y/n-" Wolfee spoke reaching out a hand.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She shouted in anger pushing past the clones.

"It had to be done." Commander Thron spoke quietly.

The others nodded.

"Damn it!" Fives shouted running out the room and rushing down the halls, after the light echoing of Y/n's angered footsteps.

She pushed the doors open and just walking out them she stopped, hearing Five's steps behind her.

"General. It had to be done-"

"What!? The lies! The string of lies you built! Why!? Why would you do this to me?!" Y/n argued looking back at the clone.

"We wanted to protect you-"

"Bullshit Fives! Bullshit! I love all of you! All of you!" Y/n shouted, screaming so loud it was sure to be heard all the way down to the lower level.

"Y/n listen!-' he grabbed her shoulders trying to plead with her but she pushed him away ingiting one side of her double sided saber as Fives quickly backed up.

"Touch me again and I'll kill you." She spoke.

"I don't even deserve death. I know- I-" Fives tried to explained, "We wanted to protect you-"

"Then you should of had my back!"

The bright blade turned off and she turned around leaving without a second thought.

"Hey! Wake up!" Boba argued.

Y/n turned her self around as she opened her eyes, "what do you want Fett."

"Rations idiot." He spoke as Y/n sat up, the girl only a year older than Bobba.

She was thrown a rations bar by the boy as they were in a hotel room, she had been sleeping on the couch.

"How much longer we waitin?" She asked taking a crunch out of the bar.

"An hour, I told you that the how much longer last time you woke up." He argued looking through the window.

Y/n kept quiet as she ate her food, it bland and bleak in both tast and color.

Bobba took an arm chair by the window as he ate his own rations. It was silent for a long mintue.

"Did. You have that nightmare again?" He asked.

Y/n looked over at him, "when do I not?"

Boba ate a peice of his own ration bar, he never knew what the nightmare was about, but knew it was the same one, on repeat.

He had the same.

"You, uh. Wanna talk about it?"

She looked his way, then looked away quickly, only able to see the faces of her brothers.

"No." She replied coldy tossing the barely eaten ration bar on the table, her appetite gone, "I'm gonna go scope the roof, don't wait up for me."

She walked towards the door, grabbing the sniper on the way out.

"I'll come with you. Incase someone tries to get you from behind."

"I don't need someone to have my back." Y/n argued.

"Well then Im coming because I want to!"

He pushed past Y/n as she scoffed, following him close behind as they walked towards the steps, somewhere along the way Y/n hacked into a vending Machine, Boba going up the stairs himself, stealing whatever she pleased putting it in her sling bag, enough for her only.

"Sharing is what?" Y/n questioned Woflee

"An opportunity for someoen to get there arm chopped off, it's my food." Wolfee told her.

Y/n sighed, how she hated her own little life lessons to her brothers, and stole more food, enough for both Boba and her, and a little extra.

Walking up the rest of the steps she made it to the door she kicked open with the bottom of her foot.

"Could you try and be quiet?" He seethed.

"I mean. I could. But no." Y/n responded walking towards the edge where Boba sat on a near by utiliy unit.

She sat down setting her back infront of her as she laid herself on her side her back to Boba the lights of the bright city below barely reaching the top of the tall hotel they sat on.

"You want one?"

Boba looked over seeing Y/n holding up a soda.

"Where did you get that?"

"Stole it."

Rolling his eyes he walked over to her snatching the bottle and sitting himself by her head.

"Hey hey. Fives calm your tits." Y/n laughed.

Boba stayed silent as he looked at her, she too busy looking out and onward, but feeling the stare she looked besides her.

"Oh." Y/n realized, "My bad Fett."

Boba stayed silent, as Y/n took a drink of her own soda, he had realized she had become more sympathetic with her apology.

"You wanna talk about it now?" Boba questioned.

Y/n sighed, answering in silence for a mintue, "My only family betrayed me. Strung a String of lies to supposedly keep me safe. I think about it all the time. We use to find these abaonded places and sit up on the roofs like this, we'd sing, start a bonfire, get drunk."

"Your as old as me." Fett argued.

Y/n shrugged, "war does that, you only live once Fett."

"Then why are you still worrying about it?" Boba defended.

"Why do you still worry about the things you worry about?" Y/n questioned, "but I was kicked out of my group, my name stripped of me, and instead of having my back, they had me cast out. Happy Now?"

It was silent again, the hearing of honking and swearving down below could be heard.

"I lost my dad to the Jedi."

Y/n stopped mid way lifting her drink to her lips but then contuined to drink then pull away.

"They tend to do that..." Y/n responded, "they expect you to follow every rule every word, there no better than the sith."

"You know alot of jedi and sith."

Y/n looked at him once, "It was when you father died did I stop really believing in the Jedi-"

"You knew my father?! You're a jedi-"

"Shut your trap and listen before you get rowdy you damn idiot!' Y/n argued Boba gritting his teeth, "I met Jango Fett when I went on a small assignment, my first one, with Master Shakk Ti- it was basically playing paper boy. I remember delivering work to your father...alot of people were mean to me, he. He never was, always said thank you, always asked me if I had eaten. He even watched me leave on the ship back to Master Plo Koon. So when I went througy reports and found him dead I was in shock, later to find out a Jedi did it. I started to loose faith. Why kill a man lookin out for him and his child, sure capture him- but taking family...I know how that feels and no one should go through it."

Y/n took a drink finishing her bottle and tossing it over edge, "so. I fought. And I fought and I fought. If i couldnt save Jango, I'd save what was left of him- the clones- my brothers. They share the same face but are diffrent than any could imagine. I spoke, I wrote, I pleaded, I trainned. It never was enough, and it was my 'emotion' that got the better of me. Pssh. Yeah right the Jedi can piss off because if they want to see emotion? I'll give it to them."

Boba listened, he had nevee seen Y/n before hand, maybe he had and just didnt remember, he never knew someone could share his pain. Neverless with the same person.

"Windu will pay." Boba seethed, "and your a jedi! You can help me."

"I will go head to head to him, I don't plant bombs." Y/n defended.

"We can take him! Two on one!" Boba tried to persuade, "you know his fighting style! I know guns! You know sabers! We take his head and anyone else that stands in our way!"

Y/n looked at him dully.

"Come on! How many bounty hunters have you single handedly taken on! And killed! How many sith have you injured! Jedi that chase after us! Without your laser swords! We can kill him! Together!" Boba explained standing up, Y/n move to sit up, "We're the left behind! We are the strongest! Because we were left behind! We round up a few others! Bane! Sing! Bosk! And there's always someone paying for a Jedi's head!"

Y/n stood up grabbing hee sniper rifle as she did and looked at her watch.

"It can be a sniper shot! A saber battle! Whatever you want! As long as he die and Im involed I don't care how!" Bobba argued.

Y/n looked down below aiming her sniper adjusting the scope.

"My father would do the same for you-"

He was cut off by a bullet shot and soon the sounds of crying folks who see a man just drop dead on the street, the target they had been waiting for dead. She pulled away from her weapon slowly, turning her head towards him.

"I'll do it.-" Y/n agreed

"No." Boba spoke, "We'll do it. Together. For everything the jedi took from us!"

Y/n looked at the outreached hand as she took it.

"Together."

"As One Unit."

"As One Unit." Y/n responded, "well one and a half"

"Im not that short." Boba argued.

"Shorter than me." Y/n chuckled.

#star wars #star wars boba fett #young boba fett #tcw boba #boba fett #boba fett x female reader #x reader #starwars x reader

[supposed2bfunny]

Yoo it’s me & you got me thinking. So 2D,spoiled only child,not real thoughtful(prob didn’t realize his mum did his laundry til he moved out and his laundry wasn’t magically clean anymore) & Murdoc leaves little candies and things in his pockets/around the house for him. Phase 5, Murdoc’s in jail. Suddenly there’s no candy around for him all the time. He’s confused about this until Noodle is like “who do you think did all that stuff for you?” What do you think that realization is like for him?

Uhhhh this may have expanded beyond anything I had in mind when you sent this ask hours ago, nips. Short ficlet under the cut!

It’s the second or third day after Ace moves in and the band moves forward with the new album that 2D finds the last vestige of Murdoc lurking on his things like a smelly miasma. He pulls on a worn sports jacket, a gift from FILA from 2013 or 2014, slips his hands into the pockets, and finds something heavy and metallic lurking in the right-side pocket.

Pulling it out, he beholds a silver ring bearing a skull, the sort of thing Marilyn Manson would have pulled off well in the 90s, that gothic bulkiness in which Murdoc has always aspired to look cool in and has never quite succeeded.

After a moment’s inspection, 2D does the logical thing: he hurls the ring down the staircase of the Spirit House, grinning with satisfaction at the sound of it bouncing off the wooden floors below and rolling away to be forgotten amongst debris and clutter and apathy.

“Tosser,” he mutters to himself.

The weeks wear on. Recording goes well, the band gets on just fine, and 2D does not think about Murdoc. 

However, he does suffer a few completely unrelated hang-ups that put the faintest damper on his otherwise now-near-perfect and tosser-free existence.

Primarily in the loss of surprise candy.

He wonders for the first time where all the sweets have gone.

And this leads him down the rabbit hole of wondering where they came from for the first time. For as long as he can remember, 2D has always been pleasantly surprised by hard candies, lemon sherbets, blue-raspberry lollies, Jelly Babies, even the rare Cadbury Creme Egg in the pockets of his jackets, or in his jeans, sometimes tucked into his beanies or even shoved into his pillowcases. Sort of like a tooth fairy has graced him at random times, leaving behind his preferred snacks. Good omens, if ever there was such a thing. 

It’s always reminded him of the way his mum used to leave Flake bars on his pillow after doing her weekly shopping, even when his dad went through his health kicks and tried to ban sweets from the house. 

He doesn’t exactly notice the loss until he’s standing in line at the market one day, purchasing several boxes of his preferred frozen chana masala dinners, when he impulsively grabs a few chocolate bars on his way to check out.

It’s only then that it occurs to him he hasn’t found any mystery goodies lying around for him in several weeks. Where had they come from in the first place, he muses. Noodle? Maybe Russel?

It doesn’t seem likely that Russel was giving them out, since he prefers to cook whole meals himself to serve the band. That leaves Noodle. And why wouldn’t she be sharing candy with him these days? Are they having a row?

As he makes his way home, he ponders what he could have done wrong to upset Noodle. She’d seemed perfectly fine the other day when they went out for bubble tea. She’d even laughed when he’d sucked the boba through the thick straw by sticking it between the gap between his front teeth. Things had seen positively chilly between them!

Being the brave, no-nonsense man that he is, and the de facto leader of the band now that the tosser is locked up for lord-knew-what, he figures he ought to confront her about it straightaway.

So he gives it a couple of days, in case she needs to blow off steam or cool down. Then a few more days, figuring she can approach him first to apologize, he should really be the bigger man. Then he gives it yet a few more days, just to be sure they are in fact having a row. Because rehearsals seem normal. Noodle’s spirits seem as high as ever, her Instagram posts emoji-saturated, her smiles genuine, her laughter nonstop as she develops a close bond with Ace and the two become inseparable. 

Finally, he bumps into her one night: they’re nothing reaching for their preferred coconutmilk ice cream sometime past two in the morning.

“Great minds think alike,” she smiles. “I’ll grab the bowls.”

“Hey, Noods,” he says, leaning back against the counter casually and popping the carton open. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up, Dee?”

“Are you...aw, it’s gonna sound so silly! You ready to laugh? You’re not cross with me, are you?”

She hands him a bowl and spoon and gets scooping. “Cross with you? Not at all--” he nearly drops his bowl in relief--”why do you ask?”

“Nah, forget it. What’s Ace say? Fuggeddaboutit?”

She pulls a face. “That was a really shitty accent.”

“Aint that the point?”

“I guess,” she concedes. “Anyway, I want to know why you thought I was cross with you: just tell me!”

“Well...I guess I kind of miss the candy you always shared with me.”

Noodle pops her spoon into her mouth, sits on the kitchen table and crosses one leg over the other. “Huh? What candy?”

“I mean, you’re the sweet tooth queen, Noods! You always have candies on you, and you used to share ‘em with me. And I guess I miss it a little bit.”

“When did I last share candy with you?” she asks. “It’s been like, a million years since I placed one of those bulk orders of the good stuff from Japan that I like.”

“No, no, not any Japanese candy. I just mean like, Jelly Babies and stuff. You used to leave ‘em in my coat pockets, or sitting out on my keyboards to surprise me. Like, rewind a month or so ago, you’d do it all the time.”

“No I wouldn’t,” she answers, looking thoroughly perplexed. 

“But...” he frowns down at his ice cream. It’s too cold still, hasn’t begun to get all good and melty the way he likes it. Just a lump of chill and ice. “Then who did?”

“You mean the little presents Murdoc always used to leave out for you? 2D, that was all Murdoc.”

There’s a pause as 2D continues to leer down at his bowl, almost forgetting that he’s not alone in the room. He remembers the skull ring he’d found and thrown. He remembers the candies sitting on the bench by his piano in the basement, the comic books rolled up and jammed into the case of his acoustic guitar, the comic books he has no memory of purchasing though they feature his favorite heroes. He remembers the fidget cube he’d found one day in his sock drawer, and the Cadbury Creme Eggs next to his condoms by the bedside.

“Hey,” Noodle’s voice draws him back out. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Everything’s fine, luv.”

She arches a brow at him; she knows he only calls her that when he's unfocused. “It’s okay to miss him, you know,” she says gently. “Sometimes I do too. He was pretty indulgent towards you, when he wanted to be. Can’t blame you for missing that.”

“Yeah right,” he forces a chuckle. “Think we’re all doing better with that sod out of the band for a bit. I’m having a nice time stretching my legs, so to speak. Really, I’m much happier these days, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Okay,” she responds, and she sounds patronizing, but maybe it’s just his imagination. “I’m gonna go finish the movie I started,” she hops off the counter, leaving him to his thoughts. “G’night.”

“’Kay, night!” He sits down at the table properly, intending to finish his dessert. But while it melts, he figures he has time for a smoke. He pats his pants pockets, realizes he doesn’t have any cigarettes on him. Murdoc always had ciggies with him, no matter where he was, no matter what level of dress or undress he was in. These days, 2D often finds himself with smokes but no lighter, or playing with a lighter but lacking in smokes.

Not in the mood to get up to find some, he instead sits there, fiddles with his spoon. It seems wrong to qualify Murdoc’s behavior as kindness, given that the word is so contradictory to his entire persona. Murdoc is not kind. Never has been. Murdoc is a tosser, a criminal, an impulsive crackhead with a tendency to make decisions that hurt those around him.

A selfish prick...whose arbitrary actions have unwittingly brought him joy for months, years, shit, he can’t remember when he first started noticing these little treats and presents left out for him, like a corvid collecting bottle caps for a preferred human companion. 

He hates Murdoc then, not for his cruelty and nasty behavior, but for his capacity to defy his own constructed persona. 

Sometime deep into these thoughts, he realizes that his ice cream has melted beyond the point of being softened and melty: it’s just a puddle of coconutmilk soup with a caramel swirl. It’s also lukewarm. It’s also approaching four in the morning.

Joints cracking as he stands, 2D brings his bowl to the sink, then approaches the bottom of the staircase. He pulls up the flashlight on his cellphone, casts it around the foyer and the living room, peaks under unpacked boxes of records and ottomans collecting dust and many, many, many pairs of shoes.

He doesn’t find that ring he’d thrown. Eventually, he gives up looking and heads to bed.

For the first time since he’d received a phone call from the local police station, he dreams of Murdoc, wakes up with crusty eyes and tight lungs and stares at the ceiling for a long time. He feels less like the leader of the band then, and more like a wayward child. A runaway. A vagabond. Directionless.

Eventually, he reaches out an arm, fumbles blindly till he finds the notebook he’s been writing lyrics in. With a sigh, he hoists himself up into a sitting position, rolls his shoulders; a joint cracks somewhere in his neck.

His pen scratches dryly a bit against the blank page at first, reluctant to share its ink with him. The hiss of nub against paper, friction. Then, the ink floods out, all at once. 

#anon asks #nip anon #2doc #2doc asks for beck #2doc fanfiction #niccalpot #AYYY I'VE WRITTEN RILLAZ FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE JANUARY! #YAY!

[mama-m1na]

Welcome to the Game: Chapter 2

~~~II~~~

The rest of the week passed pretty normally for the ravenette save for the fact she now was working with a murderer on the dark web for the second round in her life.

With her magic she would find and provide information of the male’s targets and in exchange she received half of his pay.

Since each job pulled in about $10,000 depending on how hard it actually was to pull off, she was getting large amounts of money and quite fast.

Despite the male’s suggestions, the ravenette began pouring a chunk of her own earnings into a fundraiser the band started to collect funding.

Of course she did this by disguising the sender as one of her relatives living in the Philippines so nothing could be traced back to her.

Everything was going well for the ravenette as she ran her band practice, with Lyle sitting near the podium after football practice had ended.

The only thing which could be concerning was the rising plume of smoke coming from a mountain in the distance which almost no one was concerned about since there were a lot of fires that happened in southern California.

 At around 7:30 Rhamina went with Lyle to a boba place after her Tuesday practice to support another band fundraiser.

As soon as she entered, her eyes locked onto the familiar figure of her literal partner in crime sitting in a random booth near the back of the store.

“Who is that?” Lyle asked with a frown, positioning himself in front of Rhamina as the strange male turned to look straight back at the ravenette.

“It’s one of my work partners and it looks like we need to talk,” she sighed, recognizing the look in Koda’s crimson irises as something concerning, “Can you just order for me?”

“Taro with popping raspberry boba, right?” the brunet asked earning a nod from the female before he leaned down to whisper, “If he causes you any trouble do not hesitate to scream, Rhamina, I’ll be there.”

She nodded before making her way to the secluded corner of the store which was flooded with band kids.

“Have you checked your work phone recently, Mina?” the male asked putting emphasis on the nickname he just started using since the ravenette usually wished to be addressed by her alias; however, circumstances change in public.

“I did this morning,” she explained as she watched her kids cheerfully interact in the boba shop, “Why what happened?”

“See for yourself,” the male scoffed, taking a sip of his drink while the ravenette pulled out her cheap phone to see a notification.

“This can’t be happening,” Rhamina whispered as she read the message she had received.

It read:

Hello fellow magic users!

It has been brought to my attention that there are many of us that lurk these waters and I don’t really think it is much fun when we have such an advantage over our other players so I decided to set up our own game!

This is a ‘Hunger Games’ style hunting game where you are both the hunter and the hunted.

This is what you all wanted when joining the dark web, right? A blood bath? Well, here you go.

It will take place all over the world and only those currently in the original game will be valid so those of you that received this message are the only players which means no players will be added while many players are being eliminated.

And of course it’s only fair that I am a player as well.

The game ends when there are five left standing and those five not only escape with their lives but also gifts from the Fates!

The game has already started so good luck and 

WELCOME TO THE GAME

~Game Master

The ravenette placed the phone back in her bag before slamming her face onto the table in frustration.

“What the fuck is this?!” she squealed quietly as the male looked down at her, “Why did this have to happen now?!”

“So what’s your plan?” Koda whispered so only the teen across from him could hear.

“Lay low and let the others get rid of each other, I guess,” she replied bringing her head up as she saw her friend started to walk back, “And take some time to teach you how magic works.”

“Here,” Lyle stated as he sat next to Rhamina, handing her the purple drink.

“Thanks, Lyle,” she chirped scooting closer to the wall so her friend could sit.

“And who might this be?” Koda asked with narrowed eyes, receiving a glare from the seventeen-year-old male across from him.

“Koda, this is Lyle, he’s a friend from school,” Rhamina introduced with a smile, despite the fact she could feel the heavy air surrounding them, “Lyle, this is Koda, one of my work partners.”

Neither of the males said anything, but Lyle could feel himself getting angry just by being in the presence of the male.

It felt as if the man across from him was putting him down, trying to make him bend and break, but Lyle wasn’t having it.

Before anything could escalate Rhamina reached and placed her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

“Well, it’s getting late, don't you think?” she asked with an awkward smile, “We should get going.”

“Yeah,” Lyle growled lowly as he stood, keeping a tight grip on the ravnette’s hand as he led her outside.

Feeling something strange he lifted the female’s hand as they approached his car only to find that there was medical tape covering the outer part of her hand.

“What happened?” he asked with a small glare.

“I honestly don’t know,” shrugged the ravenette, “We were unloading the trailer during class and I guess I slightly skinned myself on something.”

“You are going to lose a limb one day and you won’t realize it until you pass out from blood loss,” Lyle replied with an annoyed look on his face.

“You’re not wrong,” chuckled Rhamina as she got in the car, waiting for her friend.

“So you’re staying the night, right?” she asked once the brunet got back in his vehicle.

“I’m staying for the rest of the week actually,” he corrected after starting the car, “So you’re driving in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” she chirped while looking out the window at the darkness of Temecula.

It was silent for most of the drive as neither of the teenagers were in the mood to play any music.

“Hey, Lyle?” Rhamina asked, eyes still trained on the landscape beyond the glass, “What would you do if I were a criminal?”

“You already are one aren’t you?” he responded carefully, glancing towards the female with his peripheral vision.

“I’m not talking about shoplifting, Lyle,” sighed the ravenette, leaning her head on the glass as she closed her eyes, “What if I were a murderer? Would you hate me?”

“What kind of questions are these, Rhamina?” the male asked, an image of the man’s stare popping into his head.

After a minute of silence the male sighed before answering, “At this point I don’t think I could hate you for anything.”

“But what if I were twisted enough to enjoy it? What if my mind were so far gone? Would you still try to vouch for me then?”

“Rhamina, you’ve literally gotten thrown, degraded, and almost killed in order to prove that I wasn’t just some hopeless delinquent only looking for a fight,” the male scoffed, tightening his grip on the wheel before loosening it with a deep breathe, “Don’t you think I would do the same for you?”

“I know you would and that’s what concerns me,” the ravenette muttered so the male couldn’t hear her but he did and a frown appeared on his face.

When the pair arrived at the female’s home, Rhamina said, “You can take the room right next to mine,” as she stuck her keys in the door.

“Like always,” Lyle chuckled as the teen pushed open the door to be greeted by her dogs as well as her mother.

“Hi, Lyle,” the Filipino greeted as the pair stepped inside, “How are your parents?”

“In Vegas… Again.”

“Ah, well, Mina, your jacket is on your bed,” the mother said, turning to her daughter that set her water jug on the kitchen counter, “Go try it on I want to see.”

“Oh, you already picked it up?” the ravenette asked, not a trace of excitement coming through her tired expression before she rushed up the stairs, leaving the brunet to follow after her.

Without needing to ask, Lyle just sat on the ravenette’s bed as he waited for her to finish changing in her closet.

After five minutes the female emerged from her closet wearing a black camisole and black shorts with her own letterman jacket over it.

A dumb smile was on her face as she looked over the jacket on her form.

The body was a navy blue color with white embroidering for the female’s name, school, and activity; while, the sleeves were a grey leather with a class patch on the left and two other patches she brought in on her right. There were three more patches on her back under her last name as well as a smaller patch of a red fox on her left pocket.

Overall, Rhamina was very satisfied with it and thought it summed up her achievements well.

“Dude, this is going to be sick once it’s done!” the ravenette sung as she took it off and hung it back in her closet, “My mom is making me get patches from all of the comps we go to so I can add them later. Plus she got me a Sailor Moon patch and a sugar skull too!”

As the evening went on the two just kept talking until Rhamina just cringed at her personal phone screen.

“What happened?”

“You don’t want to know,” the ravenette groaned as she began typing out something only to let out a yelp when the male took her device.

“Wait you really don’t want to read that!” Rhamina squealed as she tried to reach her phone only for the male to lay down on her.

“It honestly can’t be that bad,” the brunet chuckled only to earn a small glare while he read as his own expression fell.

“I fucking told you so.”

“Your sisters share way too much information,” hissed the teen as he placed the purple phone onto the floor beside the bed.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve lived with it four like nine years now?” she replied before tapping the male on the shoulder, “Can you get off now?”

“No,” Lyle huffed as he blocked his eyes from the lights above them, “I’m comfortable.”

“No, like it’s getting hard to breathe, Lyle.”

“Fine,” the male huffed as he scooted off the female only to wrap his arms around her waist and put his leg over hers so she couldn’t escape.

“You’re a fucking child, at least let me turn off the lights so I can sleep somewhat normally,” Rhamina said as she tried to struggle against her friend.

“No.”

“You piece of-” Ring! Ring! Ring!

With a sigh the male reaches behind him to where he threw his phone and answers it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” a female voice screeches through the phone as Rhamina smirked, already knowing who it was.

“Chloe? Why the fuck did you call me?”

“Get off of her!” the fifteen-year-old demanded as chuckled began to erupt from the ravenette who was still trapped in a cage of limbs.

“How the fuck did you even know-” “My ‘Mina Senses’ were tingling, now get the fuck off!” she continued with an accent on her last two words before abruptly hanging up.

“Well, better do as she says and use this chance to change please,” Rhamina said as she sat up, pushing Lyle’s arms away.

The brunet reluctantly did as he was told, cursing under his breath on his way to the bathroom.

Five minutes later the male returned to the bedroom which was now covered in darkness, the only light coming from the ravenette’s phone.

“Are you actually sleeping in here?” she asked as Lyle placed himself on the right side of the bed.

“What does it look like?” he asked as he scooted closer to the female to see what she was watching.

“God dammit I have really weird sleep rituals you know?” the ravenette hissed as the video came to a close.

“What, do you listen to anime ASMR in order to fall asleep or some shit?” Lyle chuckled earning silence from the female as she placed her phone on the ground and turned her head the other way, “Seriously?”

“Shut up! Their voices are soothing and it distracts me from my late night thoughts,” muttered the ravenette as she shifted to face her friend, “They’re disturbing as hell… It’s not like I’m listening to hentai or something.”

“How about we just talk then?” the male suggested after a few moments in the darkness, “Just close your eyes and have a conversation with me.”

“Okay,” Rhamina sighed as she closed her eyes.

“Did you know it would take the blood of about 400 people to make the blade of a longsword?” she asked causing the male to snap his eyes open and just stare.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You said to have a conversation and I started one.”

“Where did you even get that information?”

“Internet.”

Ting!

An unfamiliar tone rang out through the room.

“What was that?” Lyle asked as the ravenette shifted again.

“It’s just my work phone, Lyle,” she whispered, “I can look at that in the morning.”

“Was it from that guy?”

“Koda?” Rhamina asked with a yawn, “Yeah, probably. He’s the only one that actually texts, the others usually email.”

“You need to stay away from him. He gives off dangerous vibes.”

“I know, Lyle. I know.”

“Then why do you still-?” “Fate is an ass, okay?” the ravenette said before Lyle could even finish his question, “I know being around him will cause me trouble through association but he isn’t a bad person and he isn’t looking to purposely hurt me. If I get into any trouble it’ll be my fault. I know that and I accept that.”

“You’re fucking stupid,” hissed the male as he wrapped his arms around the teen.

“I know.”

The next day passed by quickly with Rhamina taking the bus home once again since Lyle had practice.

Once she was in the seclusion of her room she immediately flopped face down onto her bed and let out a scream.

Apparently, the money she had been earning and donating to the band program wasn’t enough.

If they didn’t get more money winter season would be canceled and possibly the program would cease to exist by the next year.

‘Why can’t people actually give us funding?’ she thought as frustrated tears rolled down her cheeks, ‘We put hundreds of hours into an eight minute performance and no one gives a shit but others in the activity. It isn’t fair. We have more trophies than our own football team and the district can’t replace the percussion instruments we’ve had since the school opened when they spend about $400,000 a year on the football team. Our team isn’t even that good!’

With heavy breaths the ravenette looked to the side to see a sharpened knife she kept on a shelf for crafting purposes.

As she stared at the blade a notification tone came from her work phone.

It was a message from Koda saying that he had secured another job and needed information on a girl named Kaya Marni.

Making her way over to her altar she placed a bundle of feathers at the eastern point of it, a candle at the southern point, a bottle of charged water at the western point, and an amethyst crystal at the northern point.

She then placed an old leather journal as well as a fountain pen in the center, over a drawn pentagram before she opened the circle.

Once she did so the ravenette opened her eyes to see a light purple aura covering her.

Turning to the mirror behind her she could see the aura form into nine tails behind her as well as a pair of pointed ears on her head while the gold flecks in her eyes glowed bright.

Opening the journal she handed the pen to one of the tails and felt her aura expand and search.

After a few moments the tail began writing in the journal about the new target and it appeared that the girl went to her school.

Once it had finished sketching out the girl, Rhamina knew why the name had seemed familiar to her.

It was one of the girls from her bus and Rhamina did not like her.

The girl was very entitled to herself and extremely rude.

The ravenette couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact the younger female would suffer quite a painful death if she acted the way she normally did.

“God I am so fucked up,” she chuckled before closing the circle and putting everything back where it was supposed to go before sending the information off to Koda.

However, as she did so a thought came to her.

‘Why don’t just do the same thing I did when I started playing? I might be able to earn more money that way.’

Immediately turning off the location on the cheap phone, she connected her bluetooth keyboard and made her way to the dark web.

‘It’s been awhile since I’ve seen this,’ she thought as she scrolled through the old website she used to run when she first sold information, ‘Jesus Christ this is old.’

She spent the next hour fixing and updating the website before she made her first post in five years.

“Guess who’s not dead?”

Once she was satisfied with how the website looked, she exited and sent a text to Koda asking if there was an easier way to access the dark web since she only knew the long way, before hopping into the shower.

In a darkened apartment, a brunet with crimson irises looked down from his TV to see a notification on his phone.

His eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the new website seeing that there were already fifty requests in the first half hour that it had been up.

“What the hell does she think she’s doing?” the male growled as he stormed over to his computer and pulled up a log of the ravenette’s recent text messages, stopping when he read a group chat message.

“Announcement!” it read, “You will be needing your own ride back from the competition this week since we cannot afford busses. Also because we aren’t receiving much donations and since people aren’t paying their fees, we might have to cancel winter season altogether this year.”

The twenty-one-year-old’s eyebrow twitched as he called the teen.

“Kitsami, what are you thinking? You’re already part of one major game right now and now is the time you decide to revive your website?! All for what a stupid school program?” the male hissed and he could feel the air around him thicken and drop in temperature.

“Shut up, K, you don’t know shit!” the ravenette hissed, “This program is what kept me alive all four years of highschool, like hell I’m letting it tank. Let me be selfish dammit! I know I’m already playing a game that I’m most likely to lose! Let me take advantage of what I have!”

“I’m trying to make sure neither of us lose! You said your plan was to lay low and let the other players kill each other off. What happened to that?”

“It’s not like I’m actually going after anyone! And so what if they do come to me? Let them, I am different than I was in sixth grade. Hell! I’m different than I was literally this summer! I have something to live for now and you bet your ass I’m not going to die because of this shit!”

The man took a deep breath before a small smile graced his face and he said, “I’m honestly glad you grew up to be like this but now you’ve just given me even more reason to worry about you. You do realize that just because you have magic doesn’t mean you’re invincible right?”

“I should be the one telling you that,” huffed the teen as she plopped onto her bed, “I know the dangers and weaknesses of most magic, K, I’ll be fine. Plus it just adds another fun factor to the game!”

A smirk appeared on the male’s face before he responded, “You’re right about that, but are you sure you’re willing to take that risk?”

“I’ve taken it before haven’t I?”

“Fine, but you better not do anything stupid.”

“I won’t, I know that people have gotten better at this, but you can’t forget that I have too.”

As Lyle parked his car in the ravenette’s driveway he noticed that the teen’s blinds were open for once giving him a clear view into her room.

‘That’s weird,’ he thought as he sent a text to Rhamina, telling her that he was at the door, ‘She hates having her blinds open.’

Not even three seconds later the front door opened to reveal the ravenette in her house clothes and hair wet from the shower she just took.

“Welcome back,” She chirped closing the door behind the brunet once he had stepped inside, “How was practice?”

“It was fine,” he sighed while taking off his shoes before continuing on into the Filipino household, “Why are your blinds open?”

“Oh, I need to show you!” the teen squealed with a bright smile, “It’s really cute!”

“Should I be worried?” the male asked with a slightly tired glare.

“No! Now come on,” the female urged as she dragged the male up the stairs and into her room.

She led him to her bed and gestured at the window whose blinds were open, willingly, for once.

On the other side of the glass was a nest with four small eggs inside it.

“What the hell?”

“They’re dove eggs, I just noticed it a few minutes ago when I was checking for cars outside,” explained Rhamina with a smile, “Apparently, this happened while we were at school so there is a chance my alarm might just be the doves.”

“Why were you checking for cars?” the brunet asked as he laid his head down in the female’s lap as she gazed at the eggs.

“I don’t know if you noticed this yet, but there are really shady people in Temecula, Lyle,” she explained while petting his hair, “Have you ever wondered why we keep our porch lights on all night long?”

“Literally three years ago there were kids walking around here with guns, knocking on peoples’ doors in the middle of the night,” she continued with a sigh as she moved to close the blinds, “they came to our house on a night in summer so my family was all downstairs watching anime. I remember the doorbell ringing and being hella confused since it was around midnight. None of us answered the door but we heard from our neighbors the next day that people were going around at night knocking on peoples’ doors.”

“I never heard about that,” Lyle said as he looked up at his friend.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “This place really isn’t as quiet as people think. The only reason it’s so ‘safe’ is that the people who commit crimes here know how to clean up and hide their tracks.”

“Would you be one of them?”

“No,” the ravenette chuckled, “I don’t have time to think of something or pull it off, but I do know some of them… I think I told you about Maritza?”

“Oh yeah, the one with the deranged cousin,” the male spoke after a few moments of thinking.

“Yes, that one. He literally went to jail in middle school for doing heroin on the side of the road but was bailed out by his cousin,” Rhamina continued with a smile as she reminisced on her past.

“Well, I’m going to go take a shower then,” Lyle said with a yawn as he stood up and walked out of the room.

Once the door was closed behind him, the ravenette reached for her work phone and pulled up her newly made up website to see her inbox was flooded.

With a smile she went and answered the easiest questions, allowing the money to be transferred to one of her accounts.

It was honestly surprising to see that so many people were willing to pay such an amount for stupid questions such as ‘How do I get my wife to not leave me?’ or ‘How do I hide this body?’ Anyone could literally find this information on a blog site but she was getting paid so who was Rhamina to complain?

The ravenette was having fun answering questions and providing information until a certain comment caught her attention.

It read: 

‘You’re just a fake, magic isn’t real, Cunt.’

‘This person literally paid $10 just to insult me,’ the ravenette thought with a glare, ‘They should no better than to fuck with people on the dark web.’

As the temperature dropped, the ravenette lifted the phone to her lips as she recorded a message for the sender.

The next morning as the two teens were getting ready for school the news played in the background.

They sat beside each other at the table as Rhamina was playing an anime on her phone for both of them to watch.

“That kid is way to happy…”

“That boy dead,” Rhamina concluded before taking a bite of her toast with an egg on it.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Lyle replied as they both kept their eyes on the beautifully animated piece.

“Fucking called it,” the ravenette spoke with a hand in front of her mouth as the said character was just shot in the head.

“You know it’s kind of sad when you can tell if a character dies just by them being on screen for five seconds,” the brunet commented earning a middle finger from Rhamina who was still chewing.

“And what does that say about you?” she retorted, “You said the same thing!”

“I don’t recall actually saying that he would die,” Lyle shrugged with a smug smirk, “I just said that I agreed with you.”

“Fucking bullshit!”

“...And just last night a man was found dead in his apartment,” the news anchor spoke, “He was said to have been dealing with the Dark web and died with his phone in hand after listening to an audio clip he had received.”

Both teens turned to the tv when the anchor had spoke and the ravenette raised a brow.

‘So the fucker lived in Idaho, huh?’ she thought as she read the headline.

“Police are currently unable to determine the direct cause of death but there were many signs of struggle in the man’s apartment, leading people to believe he was murdered,” the news anchor continued as pictures and video of the crime scene were shown, “Regarding the audio clip he was listening to,  the police were given an anonymous tip that it was from someone on the dark web. We were given special permission to play the clip to display how dangerous and real the dark web actually is, so here it is.”

“So you think this is all just pretend, don’t you?” the voice speaking sounded disembodied and slightly distorted; however, it was quite easy to tell that the voice was female, “You obviously haven’t been in the game long and won’t be for much longer but here’s a tip, if you want to insult someone, make sure that the individual can’t retaliate and that they can’t find you.”

~~~Fin. Chapter 2~~~

#welcome to the game #Chapter 2 #Original Story

[spideyxchelle]

ugh. okay. so netflix is coming out with this movie. and it looks so sickly sweet that i can’t help but be outrageously excited about it. and that means that i had to write a spideychelle inspired version. which is a fluffy monstrosity. this is all fluff. only fluff. enjoy!

Michelle Jones is secretly a hopeless romantic. She has been a hopeless romantic all of her life. And she blames nurture, not nature. Because she knows she wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for her mother.

Mara Jones was the kind of woman that brought sparkle to every room, a trait Michelle believed she had not inherited. And yet, before her mother died, her Mom used to share some of that sparkle when the two of them would cozy up on their lumpy, million year old couch and watch Meg Ryan movies.

It was a Jones girls’ tradition. The two of them, and some slightly burned popcorn, used to bask in the warm distilled sunshine of 90s rom-coms. Every weekend. Her father would sometimes join them and grumble about the cheesy music and the terrible dialogue, but all it took was one smile from her mother and her father would grin stupidly and settle in.

After her mother died, Michelle stopped believing in fairytales and Prince Charmings. That shit didn’t exist. But she still had the ache of a hopeless romantic lurking beneath her steely exterior. And so, when she got a crush so intense it felt like it was crushing her windpipe she wrote a love letter. These letters severed as a goodbye to the boy (or girl) that fuzzied her usually clear head, to cast them out of her heart forever. After all, MJ had no room for flights of fancy. And, when the letter was done, she would lock it away in her mother’s old Church hatbox. Only then, the romantic ache would ease and for a while she would forget that, underneath it all, Michelle Jones was in love with love. 

And Michelle is determined to kick this Peter Parker thing. Just like she had kicked the others out of her head and heart.

While yes, she has written him four different goodbye letters, she believes she really does get over her crushes on him when she writes those letters. She stops looking at him like he’s the sun. She moves on.

The problem is that he keeps doing absolutely, infuriatingly adorable things that make her tip headfirst back into like with him. One time the culprit of her crushing is the dumb floof of his eyebrow in history class that makes her heart seize. Another, it is when he organizes a money pool to help pay for Sally’s fees to get to a decathlon fieldtrip in Arizona. But this last time happens when he bends himself into knots lying to their peers about Spider-Man. 

Yes, he lies, he has met Spider-Man. 

No, he grits his teeth, the superhero is actually super tall. 

Uhh maybe, he blushes when one of the girls in gym class ask if he could hook her up with the webslinger on a date. 

And just like that, she is back into deep like with a selfless, stupid superhero.

Michelle wants to write her letter right away, as a way to cut out her crush like a cancer, but she is not sure she is ready to sever the warmth that she feels whenever she looks at Peter. It reminds her of Harry and Sally. Or grand gestures in airports. 

She figures love is like comfort food— it is good at first but if she indulges in it too long it will kill her. She knows Peter would never intentionally hurt her, they are friends after all, but holding onto this crush will hurt her. She has been down this exact road before. Peter Parker does not look at her the way he looked at Liz or Gwen or Felicia. 

She is his friend.

Not the girlfriend.

So regardless of how good, how all consuming, liking Peter Parker can be, Michelle yanks out a piece of paper in decathlon and starts to scribble furiously. Usually she does this very sensitive work at home in the safety of her bedroom with her mother’s hatbox standing by but she figures if this is going to be her fifth Peter Parker letter it does not have to be sacred. 

In winding, hurried cursive she writes:

Dear Peter,

I think if you knew how much your smile alone could level me, you would make an effort not to smile in front of me. You’re like that. You’re insanely sweet and kind and you shared your pudding cup with me in the second grade. That doesn’t have anything to do with the smile. And it has everything to do with it all at once. 

Look, to cut the bullshit, I would really appreciate if you stop being sweet and kind and nice. Because liking your loser butt is really screwing up my plans to be single forever and live to a hundred and seven. If you keep making my heart skip, I’ll never make it to a hundred and seven.

Please be kind to my health and stop making it so easy to fall in love with you.

Hopelessly and stupidly in love with your dumb face,

Michelle Jones, the conqueror of crushes

When she gets home after decathlon her father is fussing in the kitchen and burning a perfectly good kitchen. Michelle saddles up beside him and tilts her head at the ruined dinner, “What happened this time?”

Her father huffs, “I did everything the recipe said.”

Michelle can’t stop the smile that creeps up her features. She glances up at her father and teases, “It was the recipes fault, then?”

“I’m a victim,” her father nods.

She drops a kiss on her father’s cheek, “I’ll take orange chicken and fried rice.”

Her father waves his wooden spoon in the air, “I’m not ordering Chinese.”

Michelle yells, “And a boba tea.” She closes her bedroom door and drops her bag on her messy floor near her desk. She pads over her closet and flicks on the light, searching for the hatbox that she conceals beneath an old winter coat. And, when she brushes the coat away, she looks down at the soft pastel blue hatbox. Her mother’s hatbox.

She carries it to her desk and sets it preciously on the desk and pulls off the top. Hidden inside are her old letters and of the ten that are in the box, four of them belong to Peter Parker. Which mildly irritates her, but she cannot perseverate on that now, she has to lock her latest Peter letter in her special hat box and move on. Again. MJ unzips her backpack and searches for the offending letter.

Her hands come up empty.

And her heart races.

She dives back into her bag and starts to tear apart the contents—books, old homework, some Chapstick—but she finds no letter. She opens the front of the bag and looks there, too. Inside, her fingertips brush against lint and a crumpled up Harvard brochure. Again, no letter.

That is when the panic sets in. Because the last place she had that stupid letter was decathlon practice.

Oh fuck.

Michelle spends the entire night in an unnatural state of panic. For someone that spends a lot of her time telegraphing that she does not care, she is plagued with a sleepless night of worry.

When the alarm goes off, she jumps to action and barely has time to give her father a hug goodbye before she is running to the subway. And the stop-and-go of the train is maddening. The longer it takes to get to school the longer her letter will be left to the wolves. She needs it back and she needs it now.  

When she arrived at the Midtown stop, Michelle races into school and runs. She has never, in her life, but any stock in exercise, which now feels like a fatal flaw. Perhaps if she had actually practiced in gym and done her laps with the rest of her apathetic peers, she wouldn’t feel like her heart is going to explode now.

She tears around the corner and narrowly misses taking down a group of unsuspecting freshman in her pursuit of her letter. And she nearly does a victory lap when she pushes into the auditorium. But there is no time. Only her letter. When she gets it back she will do a victory…tea run. Because running sounds dumb.

Michelle searches the table she had written her letter and comes up empty. So, she checks the next  table. And the table after that. And she keeps going around and around the room like if she hopes hard enough it will somehow materialize. But she knows before she has the strength to give up that the letter is gone.

Perhaps it was thrown out with the trash. Perhaps it was swept under the stage to never see the light of day again. Perhaps—

“Uh, Michelle?”

She falters when she hears the squeaky voice from the doorway. She knows that voice. And she briefly imagines her mother’s smile. She had always loved romantic comedies and this would have tickled her pink.

Michelle slowly turns around and spots Peter Parker illuminated by the morning, standing in the middle of the double doors. But the most alarming part of his appearance is the letter hanging loosely in his fist.

Her letter.

“I think,” he croaks sweetly, “this belongs to you.”

Her face heats and she briefly considers spending the rest of her young life in a bunker underground. But she does not betray her embarrassment. She yanks the letter out of his fist and snaps, “You shouldn’t read things that don’t belong to you.”

Peter shrinks, “It was addressed to me. I-I didn’t know, I mean, how was I supposed to know?”  

“Know what?” she tries to sound breezy, but her voice cracks.

He raises his eyebrow and flushes a violent shade of red, “You know.”

“No,” she crosses her arms, and plays dumb. “I don’t. Go on. Tell me.”

“Em,” he whispers.

Her heart lurches traitorously. She had written her letter. The crush was supposed to be done and buried. Those were the rules.  And yet, here she was looking at him and feeling warm and silly and stupid. She swallows, “You shouldn’t have read that. It was wrong.”

“I’m sor--“ he tries to say, but she cuts him off.

“And inconsiderate. And nosy. And rude. And not to mention—”

“God, will you let me speak?” he cracks.

Silence settles over the two of them, both surprised at his outburst. It is the anthesis of Peter Parker. And its infuriatingly hot. Damn him. She awkwardly crosses her arms over her chest, and nods, “Alright.”

“Right,” he exhales. Her chest rises and falls. “Look, I’m sorry read that letter. I knew it was private like a sentence in but…”

“But?” she presses unkindly.

His eyes flicker to the ground, “But it was nice. Nice to read, I mean. And, uh, for the record I’m not dumb or a loser.”

“Yes, you are,” she mumbles on autopilot.

He smiles and it crinkles in the corners of his eyes. She has only ever known one other person to smile like that, like it lights up the room, and it all feels like her mother, wherever she is, is conspiring against her. Just like that Michelle Jones knows she will need to write another dumb letter, but she doubts it will work. Peter Parker is unavoidable. The dumb idiot has a firm hold on her heart.

“Look,” he reaches into his new backpack—he has a terrible habit of losing them—and pulls out a crinkled up piece of paper. He extends it to her and she raises a confused eyebrow. So, he explains, “It’s only fair.” She does not move. He adds, “For you.”

Hesitantly, she takes the crumpled up paper and reads:

Dear Em,

I liked your letter. It was nice. For the record, I also want you to live to a hundred and seven. You would be the coolest old lady ever. Scaring kids off of her stoop. You would definitely have a stoop. At least, I imagine you with a stoop.

I’ve never written a love letter before. I hope its clear that this is a love letter. Because I’m super into you. And you have no idea how excited I was when I read your letter. Because I never thought I had a chance in hell.

I hope I still do. And the letter wasn’t some kind of mean joke.

Peter Parker

PS. You have to stop wearing those cut-off jeans. Otherwise I’ll never make it to a hundred and seven. And I’m really invested in watching your old lady stoop saga.

Michelle can’t help it. She laughs. When she glances up at him, he is smiling that stunner of a smile again. And, damn her, she rolls her eyes and leans into it. Because she is one of those hopeless romantics. And she is gonna date the hell outta Peter Parker.

“My cut-off jeans?” she asks.

He looks surprised that is the first thing she says, but, to his credit, he does not miss a beat, “They’re heart arrestingly tight.”

Michelle bites her lip, “Have you been checking out my ass, Peter Parker?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “Guilty.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” she points out.

“Love me,” Peter corrects her with an offensively wide grin. “You love me.”

Her pulse quickens and she feels a flood of embarrassment drag her under the water. Without thought, she counters, “Yeah, well you love me.”

He looks over both shoulders to check if the coast is clear and Michelle waits, steeped in confusion. Then, he flicks his wrist, webs her waist and drags her in close. She blinks, startled, and he agrees, “Desperately.” Before she can make any kind of quip, he slants his warm mouth over hers and she falls into the weight and comfort of his lips. She has never been kissed like this before, like someone cares. It is so different than the messy slobbering kisses she has shared under the bleachers with boys that didn’t care if they even knew her name. This is the kind of kiss that people wrote movies about. The kind of kiss that used to make her mother sigh when they watched romantic comedies. This is the big kiss.

And she is a hopeless romantic, after all.

Or maybe, she thinks, she is just hopelessly in love with Peter Parker.

#ficlet #fluff monstrosity #spideychelle