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waitimcomingtoo · 2 months

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And I’ve Been Meaning To Tell You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you overhear Peter denying that he likes you so you go out with another guy, leaving him to crash your date and tell you how he feels

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“At what point does the staring because you’re pining for your friend become staring because you’re a stalker and planing on wearing her hair as a wig?” Ned asked after following Peter’s gaze and seeing he was once again staring at you from across the cafeteria.

“I don’t know. I think when I start wearing baseball caps and standing outside her window with binoculars.” Peter sighed happily and rested his chin in his hand as he continued to stare.

“But, it’s not gonna get to that point though, right?” Ned laughed nervously.

“I don’t know.” Peter shrugged. “She lives on a pretty high floor.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted.” Ned said quietly.

“I had a dream last night that I asked her out and she said “I’ll see you at 8” without ever telling me where we were meeting just like in the movies.” Peter said proudly.

“You should not be proud of that. Why don’t you just ask her out with your out loud words for once?” Ned asked him.

“Because the dynamic of our friendship will be-“

“-forever altered past the point of repair and things will eventually return to normal but never feel the same.” Ned groaned as ge finished Peter’s sentence. “Yes, I know. Thats always your excuse. But I really don’t think she’ll say no.”

“You don’t know that.” Peter insisted. “I can’t risk it.”

“Peter, it’s so obvious you guys like each other. She always laughs at your jokes and nobody, and I mean nobody, finds you funny. And I know you like her back because you stare at her all the time and got goosebumps that one time her ponytail hit you in the face.”

“It smelled like freedom and prosperity.” Peter whispered.

“So ask her out and smell her ponytail all the time.” Ned whispered back.

“I just can’t, okay? And I don’t even like her like that. So stop bringing it up.” Peter said and looked over at you again. He watched you leave a group of friends and walk over to him and Ned.

“But you guys obviously want to be together so why don’t you just be together?” Ned asked him.

“Because I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me, okay? That’s that.” Peter whispered harshly just as you sat down at their table.

“Hey guys. I’m pretty sure I just got a veinte out of one hundred on my Spanish quiz so.” You sighed and dropped your backpack on the table.

“Hi.” Peter’s blushed and smiled at you. Your bad mood quickly eviscerated and you smiled back.

“Hi Peter.”

“If you want, I can help you study for your next Spanish quiz. I took it last semester and did fairly bien.” Peter offered.

“Really?” You lit up. “Thanks, Pete. That would be so bien of you.”

“No problemo.” Peter said back.

“This feels…racist.” Ned mumbled as he watched the interaction.

“I, uh, I watched that movie you were talking about the other day.“ You told Peter with a nervous smile.

“You watched Alien? Did you like it?” Peter asked excitedly.

“I did but it made me kinda paranoid about, you know, aliens. But I liked the part when the alien came out of the guys chest. I never realized that scene was from that movie. I felt like I was finally in on the film bros inside jokes.”

“Yeah. I like that part too. I also like the part when he swam up the filters motor and stuck that pebble in there so the tank would get dirty and have to be cleaned, giving all the other fish a chance to escape.” Peter replied. It took you a minute to get it but when you did, you burst out laughing. Peter blushed at how hard you were laughing at his joke while Ned watched the interaction in disgust.

“That was not funny.” Ned shook his head. “Not even a little bit. It was a little criminal actually.”

“What? Yes it was. Peters always funny.” You insisted.

“Isn’t he though?” Ned faked a smile before rolling his eyes.

“Hey, back off. I liked the joke.” You defended Peter, making his blush deepen.

“Thank you. I like your jokes too.” Peter told you.

“Ugh.” Ned groaned. “This is revolting to watch. Why don’t you guys just get married already?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” You said. “We’d get a tax break, right? Whatever that means.”

“It’s when they break your taxes in half.” Peter answered.

“Oh, is that it?” You laughed. “Sounds about right.”

“I know because I took that accounting class freshman year. You weren’t in that class so you wouldn’t know.” He teased you.

“Hm. Is that the class they cancelled because not enough people signed up?” You teased back.

“Yep. That one.” He nodded. “Wow. The memory on you. You’d be an excellent gatherer if this was Hunter gatherer times.”

“Aw, Peter. That’s the nicest thing a guys ever said to me.” You smiled and touched your heart.

“If you liked that compliment I have like eight more in the chamber ready to go.” Peter told you.

“Oh my God. Just make out already. But not in front of my clementine.” Ned grumbled and peeled his clementine. You and Peter fell silent at his exclamation. Peter’s face burned with embarrassment while you avoided eye contact with either of them.

“I’m gonna go refill my water bottle. I’ll be right back.” You smiled awkwardly and quickly left the table.

“Nice job, Ned.” Peter hugged. “You just made her so uncomfortable she went to fill up a full water bottle.”

“I told you, dude. She obviously likes you. I was just pointing out the obvious.” Ned defended himself.

“She doesn’t like me.” Peter insisted.

“Are you kidding me? You just made a Finding Nemo joke and she actually laughed. Not even fake laugh. That was a genuine belly laugh at the worst joke I have ever had the misfortune of hearing. She’s down horrendous for you.”

“No, she’s not. She just sees me as a friend. And I don’t even like her like that so it doesn’t matter.” Peter lied in an effort to change the subject.

“You can’t hide the truth from your best friend. I see right through your lies. You like her. I know it and you know it. Why can’t she know it?” Ned asked.

“I told you to stop bringing it up.” Peter grumbled, growing frustrated now. It wasn’t uncommon for Ned to bring this up but it was happening more than usual lately and all it did was remind Peter that you’d never be together.

“But-“

“I don’t like her, okay? I never did. I don’t think she’s pretty, I don’t find her funny, and I don’t want to be her boyfriend. I don’t know why you don’t believe me. I swear, I do not like her like that. I never have, and I never will. Okay?” Peter snapped. Little did he know, you had come back to the table and heard his whole outburst. You blinked a few times as your stomach sank but put on a brave face and sat down.

“I’m back.” You forced a smiled but didn’t meet Peter’s eyes. Peter’s eyes widened when you sat down and he looked at Ned.

“How much of that did you hear?” Peter asked you.

“How much of what?” You played dumb. You had to pretend you weren’t crushed that the boy you’d been pining after for years just very aggressively confirmed he didn’t like you.

“Nothing.” Peter lied and exchanged another look with Ned. Ned shrugged before changing the subject to move away from the moment entirely. You pretended to listen as you tried your best not to look as disappointed as you felt.

Once your break was over, you left the cafeteria and went for a walk around campus to clear your head. You ended up on a bench and sat down before taking a big sigh. You hadn’t noticed the guy that was sitting on the other end of the bench, but he certainly noticed you.

“Hey.” He said. You looked around for who he was talking to but found no one.

“Me, hey?” You asked and pointed to yourself.

“Yeah. You, hey.” He smiled and nodded his head.

“Oh. Hey.” You smiled back.

“I’m Drew.” He said.

“Y/n.” You said back.

“What’s the matter, Y/n? You look forlorn.”

“Oh, it’s stupid.” You waved your hand.

“Not to me. Tell me about it.” He insisted and scooted closer to you. You looked down at the lessened space between the two of you and laughed shyly.

“It’s nothing. I just overheard my friends talking about me.” You told him.

“Oh shit. Was it bad?”

“Not necessarily. But it didn’t make me feel good.”

“Damn. That sucks.” Drew said. You nodded in agreement and an awkward silence fell between you.

“I like that shirt.” He said suddenly and nodded towards your shirt.

“Oh, thanks. I borrowed it from a girl I didn’t even talk to anymore.” You replied as you pulled on the shirt.

“Finders keepers.” He shrugged. “You should wear it when I take you out.”

“Why would I wear a shirt you’ve already seen when we go out?” You laughed.

“So we’re going out?” Drew smiled.

“I guess we are.” You shrugged and realized you had just agreed to a date.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up Friday.” Drew winked at you before getting off the bench. You smiled at the unexpected interaction before realizing you had not gotten a single detail.

“Wait, pick me up where?” You called after him, but he was already gone. You slumped back in your seat on the bench and felt an equal mix of confusion and excitement. Maybe this new guy was exactly what you needed to forget about Peter.

The next day, you sat with Peter and Ned at your usual spot in the lunch room but barely paid attention to their conversation. Drew had found you on Instagram and you’d been talking to him all day. Peter had noticed your thumbs flying around your keyboard and the smile on your face and felt curious and ever so slightly jealous about who was making you smile like that.

“Is that good with you Y/n?” Ned asked you.

“Sorry, what?” You asked and put your phone down.

“We were saying we were gonna get chicken wings and watch the Trixi Mattel documentary.” Peter informed you.

“Again? And I can’t Friday.” You told them.

“Why not?” Peter asked.

“I have a date.”

Ned and Peter exchanged a looked before started to speak at the same time. They both stumbled over their words and spoke over each other as they gave you all their thoughts and opinions on why you should not go on this date. You tried to cut in but Ned kept listing Criminal Minds plot lines where women were murdered while Peter asked question after question about the guy.

“Slow down. One at a time.” You shouted over them and they both went silent. You pointed to Ned to signal that it was his turn to talk.

“You have a date? With a human boy?” Ned asked in disgust.

“Yeah. Is that surprising?” You asked, sounding a little hurt that they were so shocked.

“No.” Peter replied and looked at Ned to signal for him to say the same so that you wouldn’t be offended.

“Yes.” Ned said immediately. “Who the hell is this guy?”

“Ned.” Peter said warningly.

“His name is Drew.” You shrugged.

“Drew? What’s his brothers name, draw? Stupid fucking past tense ass bullshit name.” Ned grumbled.

“Jesus Ned.” You laughed. “It’s a normal name. It’s short for Andrew.”

“Andrew?” Peter scoffed. “What is he, an apostle?”

“I don’t think there was an apostle named. Andrew.” You stated. “I think they were all named Mark. And like, John or something.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Peter waved his hand. “Why are you going on a date with this potential psychopath?”

“Because asked me on a date.” You said simply.

“And you said yes? When we don’t even know this guy. What if he’s into hardcore drugs and wants to use you as a drug mule for his next big drug operation?“

“He seemed fine.” You shrugged.

“So you’re gonna risk your life going on a date with this lunatic because he “seemed” fine? What if he’s a cannibal?” Ned asked.

“I don’t think he’s a cannibal. He was just sitting on a bench on his phone.”

“Oh my God. He sounds completely insane. Check the sex offender registry for his name right now.” Ned instructed Peter. Peter started typing his name into his laptop so you shut Peter’s laptop with a roll of your eyes.

“Why are you guys being insane? I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m about to end my life over this.” Peter mumbled.

“Me too.” Ned added. “What even spurred this reckless decision?”

“I don’t know. A guy hasn’t shown interest in me in a while. This guy did so I took a chance. Is it really that crazy?”

“Yes.” Ned said immediately. “You’re ludicrous for this. You are absolutely Pitbull featuring Ludacris for this. Saying yes to a date with a stranger. This girl has lost her damn mind.”

“How else do you meet people?” You asked them.

“You don’t.” Peter said a sarcastic laugh. you threw your hands up in exasperation and Peter and Ned exchanged a look.

“What he means is, you should try asking a friend out. That way, you already know them and know you won’t get diced and quartered into a bunch of little pieces.” Ned said kindly.

“Why would he dice me and quarter me? Wouldn’t one or the either be enough?” You asked.

“Probably not for this lunatic.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous to suggest.

“I think you guys are over reacting. What if he’s just a nice guy wants to take me on a date?”

“No guy wants that.” Ned groaned.

“Wow. Thanks Ned.” You said sarcastically.

“What I meant was, Peter has something to say.” Ned said and pointed to Peter. Peter turned bright red and gave Ned an angry look.

“You do?” You asked Peter.

“No?” Peter replied.

“Right.” You smiled tightly and looked away from him, making Peter know he blew it.

“Where is the date?” Ned asked.

“I don’t know. Some frat house. He said his friend is having a party and he wants to take me.”

“A party? At a frat house? With underage drinking? Oh great. So this guy is a law breaker. He probably has an extensive criminal record already. And I bet it’s for the drug mule thing.” Ned insisted.

“We’re all 21. You literally turned 22 last week.” You reminded him.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation.” Ned brushed you off.

“What kind of first date is a party anyway? A girl like you deserves to be taken on a nice, well thought out date that doesn’t involve getting drunk around strangers. If I was the one taking you on a date, I’d make a picnic of your favorite snacks and we’d eat it on the rooftop of my apartment while the sun sets.” Peter stated.

“But you’re not the one taking me on a date. He is. He likes me, you don’t.” You said sharply, making everyone fall silent. You hadn’t meant to snap at Peter like that but it bothered you that he was aggressively putting down your date after rejecting you.

“What? Am I wrong?” You asked the table.

“Peter.” Ned whispered but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. You looked at Peter again but he just couldn’t do it.

“No. You’re not wrong.” He said quietly. You nodded your head like you expected that before getting up from the table.

“I just wanted my friends to tell me they were happy for me. Instead, we just had one of the weirdest and least encouraging conversations I’ve ever been an apart of. I’ll see you guys later.” You grumbled and walked away.

“That went well.” Ned said once you were gone.

“She definitely overheard me. I totally hurt her feelings and drove her right into the arms of that cannibal drug mule. Why did I say those things?” Peter asked and rubbed his face in frustration.

“I don’t know man. I would have stopped at “I don’t like her” but you really went off.” Ned agreed.

“Because you were annoying me with how much you were asking.” Peter whined. “Oh God. What am I gonna do now? Shes gonna go to that party and fall in love with draw and forget all about me.”

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna find draw’s party and crash it. And you’re gonna woman up and tell her how you feel.”

“How are we gonna find his party? We’re not exactly good at attending parties.”

“I have my sources.” Ned smiled deviously.

“You’re just track her location on snap maps, aren’t you?” Peter sighed.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna track her on snap maps.” Ned admitted.

When Friday came around, Peter and Ned were glued to their phones as the tried to find out where you were. Luckily for them, you had been posting a plethora of pictures of the party to your Snapchat so they easily found where you were. Unlucky for Peter, Drew was featured in all of the pictures and you looked like you were having the time of your life. Peter swallowed down his jealousy and got dressed to go to the party. He rehearsed his speech for you in his head as he made his way through the crowd. He finally found you in the kitchen in the arms of a girl he didn’t recognize. Your eyes lit up when you saw him and you tried to go towards him but immediately tripped over your over feet.

“Peter!” You cheered and threw your arms around him. The girl who had been holding you let go of your waist while Peter looked at her in confusion. You stumbled into Peter and had a hard time keeping yourself up straight

“You know her?” The girl asked Peter.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. What’s going on? Who are you? And where’s draw?”

“I’m Serita. I found her all by herself. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Well if it isn’t Peter Peter pumpkin eater. He actually doesn’t even like pumpkin flavored things. He doesn’t like me either. He made that very clear.” You laughed and clapped Serita on the back. Serita looked at Peter in amusement but he was too focused on how drunk you were.

“Are you drunk?” Peter asked in shock.

“What? No.” You scoffed and nearly fell over.

“She’s wasted.” Serita told him. “I got her to drink some water by telling her it was a big shot of vodka.”

“I’m just here to feel the heat with somebody.” You said and held your hands up in defense.

“I’ve never seen you drink this much. What happened?” Peter asked you.

“Psh. I’m not as think as you drunk I am.” You denied the obvious with a wave of your hand. The action caused you to stumble again and you had to grip Peter’s shirt to keep from going down.

“You can’t even stand up straight. Where’s draw?” Peter asked again and looked around the room for your date.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he left with that pretty red headed girl from our statistics class sophmore year. With that teacher who had that cat with a silly name. Remember him? What was the cats name?”

“Kitty puss.” Peter reluctantly admitted.

“Kitty puss!” You cheered again and nearly dropped to the floor.

“I got you.” Peter said and tightened his grip on you. “But if he’s on on a date with you then why did he leave with another girl?”

“Because he didn’t get what he wanted from this girl?” You shrugged with a sad smile. Peter’s eyes darkened and he looked at Serita with a clenched jaw.

“What did he want?” He asked her.

“To get her drunk enough to lower her standards.” Serita stated. “That’s what he does to all the undergrad girls on this campus. Or at least, he tries to. Girls his age know better and stay away from him. But unfortunately for your best friend here, she didn’t know about his reputation.”

“Sterling Knight should have had a bigger career after Starstruck. He was funny and could sing. I never found him all that handsome but he had star power. He deserved more from Disney and I’ll die on that hill.” You interrupted their conversation to say.

“That’s nice, sweetie.” Peter smiled kindly at you before looking at Serita again. “I’m gonna take her to the bathroom and try to sober her up. Thanks for taking care of her. I’m glad she had a friend here.”

“Oh, I don’t know this girl. I just noticed she needed someone and stayed with her.” Serita explained. Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise before giving her a grateful smile.

“Oh. Well thanks for noticing. I got it from here.” He said before picking you up bridal style. You laughed gleefully and wrapped your arms around his neck, making Peter turn red again. Serita noticed this and stopped him.

“Hold on. How do I know I can trust you with her?” Serita asked. “What if you don’t even know her and you’re just trying to do what Drew was trying to do?”

“I promise I know her. Look. She’s my lock screen.” Peter said and showed Serita his lock screen which was a photo of the two of you.

“Best friend, huh?” Serita smirked.

“Please.” Peter whined. “I can’t hear it from you too. I’m an idiot and I know that. That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

“Well good luck. She’s been talking about “my Peter” all night.” Serita patted his back before walking away. Peter smiled at that before carrying you to the bathroom.

“Is this how Lady Gaga felt at the 2011 Grammys when they carried her in in that giant egg?” You asked as you rested your head on Peter’s shoulder.

“We will never know how Lady Gaga felt while being carried in a giant egg at the 2011 Grammys. You’re just being carried by your idiot friend to a disgusting frat bathroom that probably has salmonella and syphilis all over it.”

“Romantic.” You chuckled and held Peter tighter. He shut the bathroom door behind the two of you before gently putting you down on the countertop. He started rummaging through the medicine cabinet while you swung your legs.

“My tummy hurts.” You whined.

“I know. Take this.” Peter instructed and handed you Tylenol.

“Magic beans?”

“Tylenol. Drink this.” He chuckled and handed you back the cup of water from Serita. You chugged the water with the pills and wiped your mouth before giving Peter a sad smile.

“How do you feel? Do you need to puke?”

“No.” You shook your head. That action made you nauseous and you hopped off the counter to throw up into the toilet.

“I had a feeling that was gonna happen.” Peter mumbled.

“Don’t tell Kitty Puss about what a wreck I am.” You pleaded and threw up again.

“I won’t.” Peter laughed and held your hair back.

“I’m gonna die.” You whined and slumped against the bathtub. Peter sat down beside you and got the hair out of your face.

“You’re not gonna die.” He assured you. “You’re just gonna have really bad breath and carpet burn on your knees.”

“I hate carpet burn.” You said and started to cry. Peter had a feeling the tears weren’t just from the carpet burn so he wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s okay. Let it all out.” He said softly as he rubbed his hand on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder for a minute before pulling away. He grabbed a tissue from the counter and wiped your tears for you.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly as you stared down at your lap.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For going on this date.”

“No. I don’t want to hear that. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Peter shook his head as he continued to dry your eyes. You pushed your hand away and held it so he would look at you.

“I do. I only went because I was mad at you. And I posted all those things because I wanted you to think I was having fun with another guy. But I wasn’t having fun. I was thinking about you the entire night.”

“Well you fooled me.” Peter chucked. “I thought you were halfway in love with this guy already. But why were you mad at me?”

“I heard you the other day. I heard you tell Ned you didn’t like me.” You admitted and gave him a sad smile.

“Oh, that’s not-“

“And it’s fine.” You cut him off. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you over that. It’s not your fault you don’t like me. We can’t help what we don’t feel.”

Peter stared into your eyes and saw a sadness he’d never seen you show before. You had sobered up a little but still weren’t completely there. He wanted to tell you how he felt, but he wanted you to be sober enough to remember it.

“So what happened to your date?” He changed the subject. You gave Peter a sad smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“He wasn’t much of a gentleman.” You admitted. Peters jaw clenched but he tried to remain calm for you same.

“Why do you say that?”

“I kept trying to talk to him and get to know him but all he wanted to do was get drunk. So I kept drinking whatever he handed me because I thought that would make me a more “fun” date.” You told him. You looked down at your dress and nervously fiddled with the hem of it. Peter stayed silent as he watched your eyes fill up with tears.

“I got all dressed up. I did my hair and my makeup. I tried to look pretty for him.” You said sadly. “But he didn’t even compliment me when he saw me. And he didn’t laugh at any of my jokes. I kept feeling like I was annoying him any time I asked him a question. But I was just trying to get to know him.“

“Well he’s crazy for not complimenting you. Because you look very pretty tonight.”

“Oh, please. My makeup’s running down my face and I probably have puke on my dress.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still the prettiest girl in this room.” Peter told you.

“I’m the only girl in this room.” You reminded him and pointed to the bathroom wall.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the prettiest girl in any room you’re in.” Peter stated. That brought a smile out of you and you slipped your hand into his.

“You’re sweet.” You smiled in appreciation and gave his hand a squeeze. Peter squeezed you back before getting the hair off your forehead. You leaned into his hand and looked into his eyes.

“What happened tonight?“ He asked quietly.

“Well, once I was drunk enough for Drew’s liking, he asked me to go up to one of the bedrooms with him. I went because I thought it was because he wanted a more private place to talk. I thought he wanted to hear what I had to say. Imagine that? Imagine your date being interesting in something you had to say? But he didn’t care about that. He didn’t want to talk.” You laughed sadly before looking down at the floor with a heavy sadness.

“What did he want?” Peter asked and braced himself. You looked up and met Peter’s eyes with a sad smile.

“You know what he wanted.” You said softly. Peter gulped and nodded his head so you wouldn’t have to relive it. You let out a sigh and wiped your tears on the back of your hand.

“He didn’t even kiss me.” You laughed sadly. “He just shut the door and tried to unzip my dress. I pushed him away and yelled at him, and then he got upset that I was upset so he left me in there. I was too drunk to go after him so I just sat there for a while in the dark. By the time I came back down to the party, he was already making out with another girl.”

“What’s this guys problem? He got to take the most incredible girl in this city on a date and he blows it in every way possible? He’d be lucky to talk to you, let alone go out on a date with you. How could he not see what a privilege he had just to be near you?” Peter said with genuine anger.

“Thanks, Pete.” You chuckled and felt slightly better about the night. Peter was about to go off more until he saw the look on your face. You didn’t need to hear Peter’s gripe right now. You needed comfort.

“Should we kill him?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“I think so. Serita told me he’s got a bit of a reputation for this kind of thing. I had no idea.”

“I can’t believe Ned was right and this guy really was insane.” Peter said, making you laugh.

“I know. I guess this means we should listen to him more.” You laughed. Peter smiled at you before scooping you up again and kicking the door open.

“Woah. Where are we going?” You asked as he carried you straight out of the party.

“On a real date.” He replied and you fell silent. He carried you all the way to his apartment building and swung up to the roof.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Peter said and he slipped out of his button down. He draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm before racing downstairs.

When he returned, he had a picnic blanket, his portable Death Star night light, a lunchables pizza, and two bottles of water. You smiled as he laid the picnic blanket down before patted the space beside him. You sat down and he wrapped a blanket from his bed around the both of you. You cracked open your water bottle and downed it while he put together the lunchables. He handed you one of the pizzas and you did cheers before silently eating them as the sun began to rise.

“Are you enjoying your meal, madam?” Peter looked away from the sunrise to ask you.

“Why, yes I am. This is one of the finer lunchables I’ve ever eaten. Compliments to the chef.” You played along.

“The chef thanks you kindly.” Peter replied and you both laughed.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you for a minute as you watched the sky become pink. Peter looked over at you and felt his heart ache over the way the sun was lighting up your face with a warm glow. You were holding your blanket tightly around your body to shield yourself from the morning air and had your eyes shut to let the night wash away from you. Peter knew in that moment he was in love and it could not be unspoken any longer.

“So, uh, remember when we were in the bathroom before and you said we should listen to Ned more?” Peter began.

“That doesn’t sound like something I would say. But I guess so. Why?” You wondered and looked over at him. Peter looked you in the eyes and gulped.

“Ned was actually right about a second thing.”

“Two things? Is he going for a personal record?” You laughed. When you saw that Peter wasn’t laughing, you stopped smiling.

“What is it, Pete? Something bad?”

“No. Not bad. Just, um, just a little clarification, I guess.” Peter began.

“Clarification about what?”

“I know you heard me telling Ned that I didn’t like you. And I know that it hurt your feelings. Which I totally understand why it would. It was overkill. But what you overheard the was my frustrated attempt to get Ned to stop insisting that I liked you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You said slowly and never took your eyes off him. Peter stared into your eyes for the last time before everything changed.

“And the only reason he keeps insisting that is because it’s true. He was trying to get me to tell you how I felt and I snapped at him because I was scared that if I ever did tell you how I felt, you wouldn’t feel the same.” Peter finished. You stared at him for a long time but Peter couldn’t read your expression. You were definitely pensive but he didn’t know if you were upset with him or relieved to know the truth. You turned your face back towards the sunrise and stared out at it.

“Hm.” You hummed.

“Hm? That’s all you have to say?” Peter asked nervously.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about that part in the movie Alien when the two main characters get directions from that school of fish and all the fish take the shape of an arrow to show them which way to go.” You said very seriously. Peter shook his head before cracking up laughing.

“Wow. Ned must be on a roll because hearing my own joke repeated back to me makes me realize how unfunny it was.” He admitted, making you laughing.

“I still laughed.” You shrugged. “Even if it wasn’t funny.”

“You did.” He realized with a smile.

“Probably because I like you so much.” You shrugged again and stopped looking at the sunrise to look at him. Peters smile grew and he reached over to hand your hand in his. All that pining and anticipation had led to that moment of you finally admitted how you felt about each other.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Thats probably why.”

Tag list 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker friends to lovers #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #Peter Parker best friends to lovers #peter parker x best friend!reader

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cameronspecial · 2 months

Text

The Help

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Racist Remark Against Hispanics, Swearing, and Suggestive Ending

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Tannyhill gets a visitor who can't help but see Y/N below her class.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

The front door to Tannyhill opens without a knock or an occupant from inside twisting the knob. Rafe is out on a run while Y/N is cleaning up the breakfast mess. He had made the meal so it was only fair that she took care of it. At first, she wasn’t sure about moving into the grand home when Rafe inherited it from Ward’s will, but he was quick to convince the girl it was better than living in her shack of a house on the Cut. She is wiping down the counter with her hair in a messy bun when the clatter of heels echoes through the house. Rose and Wheezie moved to the Guadalupe house after Ward’s death because Tannyhill held too many memories and Sarah moved in with John B. so the steps couldn’t belong to them. Y/N’s gaze flicks upward to find a redhead walking into the kitchen. “Ahh, finally signs of life in this house. You know you should really start with cleaning the front entrance before you clean the kitchen. The chandelier is dusty. Did Rafe fire Mrs. Lockmeyer?” the unidentified woman criticizes. Y/N realizes the other woman thinks she is the help and plays along, “Mrs. Lockmeyer is sick for the day.” It isn’t a lie, the cleaner did say she had to come in at a later day in the week because of an illness.

“I’m glad Rafe didn’t fire her. She always did such a good job with rearranging my shoes and didn’t leave streaks on the windows like that dumb Hispanic. I don’t think she even understood English. Where is Rafe anyways?”

“R- Mr. Cameron is out on a run. May I ask who you are?”

“Right, you are new. I’m Natasha. Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Really? Mr. Cameron didn’t tell me about you.”

Natasha gives Y/N a belittling look, “Don’t say it like that. It’s not like you have a chance with him. But to be completely honest, I broke up with him. It was a mistake though and I’m here to rectify that. Bring my bags in. I’m going to get settled in his room.” Y/N has no time to protest before Natasha makes her way upstairs. Right on time, Rafe jogs into the kitchen with his earbuds dangling from his neck and his skin glistening with sweat. He goes to get a cool bottle of water from the fridge and kisses Y/N on the cheek. She thinks about telling him about his guest, yet she has an even more delicious way of getting back at Natasha for just walking into her home and assuming she didn’t belong there with a glance. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll be waiting for you to join me,” he mutters against her skin. She gives him a small nod and lets him lead the way upstairs. She lags behind him, waiting for him to enter first. Her feet pause in front of her bedroom door.

“What the fuck. Natasha, what are you doing in my bedroom?” she hears Rafe scream inside. She holds back a snicker. Natasha responds, “Didn’t the help tell you I was upstairs?” “The help?” Rafe repeats with confusion. Y/N takes this as her opportunity to make herself known and enters the bedroom. Her arms loosely wrap around Rafe’s waist and she presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m ready for that shower now, Handsome,” she mumbles loud enough for everyone to hear. She leaves no time to further be a part of the conversation, walking toward the bathroom and taking her shirt off to throw to Rafe.

Natasha looks back and forward between the couple, her mouth falling open as she pieces the puzzle together. “You are dating the help?” she questions. Of course, the only thing she can see Y/N as is someone to serve a Kook. Rafe’s jaw clenches, “No. I’m dating my girlfriend. Now, if you would see yourself out, I have to go make love to my girlfriend in the shower.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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dancewithdeath11 · 25 days

Text

The Hangout

Pairing: CollegeYears!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley invited reader over for a kick back

Warnings: CollegeYears!Bradley, Freshmen!Reader, Inexperienced!Reader, attending UVA, kissing, slight angst, drinking (not drunk), baby-age gap(Reader is legal, I’m fully abusing canon and making him older than the rest of them???)

Word Count: 4.8k

Part: 1/?

======

Knock knock knock

With a slight huff you stepped back a little. You could hear people inside and yet nobody was answering. Half tempted to call, you pulled out your phone.

Then the door opened quickly, making you flinch. It wasn’t who you expected at all. He was familiar though.. “Hey- sorry for spooking you..” The familiar looking stranger said, an awkward smile on his lips. Cute.. “Come in, uh- everyone is in the kitchen.” He opened the door a little wider. “I’m Bob, by the way.”

You nodded, giving him your name as the two of you walked into a kitchen-living area. There are very few people you recognize. The kitchen is bustling, the counter has a few cases of beers and bottles of wine. You clutched onto your cheap box of cocoa powder as you said a quick, excuse me to Bob and made your way deeper into the kitchen.

You made a b-line straight to the very person you were here for. Bradley.. Clad in a tacky Hawaiian shirt and jeans. “Hey, you made it!” He smiled brightly down at you.

Fuck, he was so hot…

“Yeah..I had to run to the store really quickly before I stopped here.” You nodded and he made his way over to the fridge. You trailed him like a goddamn puppy.

“You want anything? A drink? Alcohol or no? Or do you want food? Nat is cooking but that probably won’t be done for a bit..” He rattled off as he opened his fridge and stuck his head in. At first you hesitated, but you also knew you should probably eat if you were going to drink. And you were hungry as shit anyways.

“I could eat..” You muttered softly to him, carefully reaching out and grabbing a can of Coors from the door. Luckily he heard you over the loudness of the kitchen.

“Sweet or savory?” He questioned, but he didn’t let you answer before he was pulling something out. “Actually, here,” He turned, his brown eyes dropping to your hands before he met your eyes again, offering a wink. “It’s my favorite.” Looking down you see it’s a plastic package of salami.

It had you giggling as he took the cocoa powder from you and set it down on the counter behind him. “Salami?” You asked through your laughter.

“What?” Bradley chuckled, a deep rumble that had you wanting to lay your cheek against his chest to feel it. You shook off the thought. “It’s good.” So you just shrugged as he walked past to his friends. Promptly leaving you alone. Biting down on your bottom lip you walked towards the only other person you knew by name. Taking a seat between yet another stranger and Bob as you ate some salami from the package.

Quickly you were swept up into a conversation with Bob. He was quieter than the rest but he was a great listener and was asking you questions. So you were more than willing to answer and talk to him about the latest things going on at school. Eventually a woman, Nat, joined in and took over on asking the questions.

“So, is there any drama going on in the freshmen class?” She asked after you finished talking about your major for the second time over that night.

“Not really…I’m sure there is but I don’t really get involved with that stuff.” You nodded slightly to her. Sipping on your beer, feeling how light it’s gotten already. The woman muttered something under her breath before snapping her fingers.

“Do you know, uhmmm shoot what's his name- Alex Klarkson?”

You perked up at the name, “Yeah, I know him, but he’s a creep. Why?” You frowned recalling one disturbing interaction with the guy. He says some of the most outrageous dirty things that you’d ever heard. Everything out of his mouth is either sexist or racist.

“Great! I don’t like him either, he was in my orientation group.” She groaned with a roll of her eyes. But then she smiled and leaned against the counter. “So why do you hate him?”

You were quick to run your mouth, it was maybe your one flaw. You like talking. “Well, I was hanging out with some of my freshmen guy friends and I somehow got caught in a conversation with this guy. He seemed fine and funny at first, but then he started to get really creepy. Saying some downright disgusting, demeaning things about this girl he was- well, with, which I honestly doubt because everything he says about women sounds absolute bullshit. Plus if he's this disgusting on the regular, he’s for sure a virgin.” That got a burst of laughter out of Natasha, causing some people to look our way, you couldn’t help but giggle too. “I don’t know, he makes me uncomfortable, I avoid him like the plague.”

She nodded along, “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to hang around a creep like Alex either.” Someone called Nat away, something about the food. As she left, Bradley came around.

“What’s this about someone making you uncomfortable?” He muttered softly to you, he was close, so close you could feel the heat of him. The brush of his Hawaiian shirt against your arm.

Looking up at him, you offered a slight smile to him. “Just some guy..” He hummed and raised a brow for you to continue. “He’s a total creep, but I’m avoiding him. Nothing to worry about..” You reassured him gently, if reassurance was even what he was looking for.

“Good..Good girl.” He hummed, smirking as he patted your upper arm before walking off again.

Oh… arm touch. You smiled and watched him walk away. His jeans are tight..

The other guy you were sitting next to was quick to start up a conversation. Mickey, you think his name was. He was nice and really liked talking. Almost more than you.

Selfishly you loved it. Loved the attention, the interest. You can give and take whatever you want. Twist a story slightly to seem more interesting, nothing harmful or crazy, just something that makes it appear more..fun. Smile and shake your head at a question as you refuse to answer, watching with a cocky smirk as they insist you fess up.

The night dragged on. You had a few beers and passed a few stories around. This was nice. Really nice.. The whole time here, other people would treat you like a kid. Teachers, orientation leaders, other upperclassmen friends. Made you feel like you were in kindergarten again.. But now you’re being asked if you want some beer and what your last escapade was..

“Last? Try never.” You chuckled over the rim of your can.

The blonde's eyes widened, “No way, sweetheart! You gotta be jokin’!” He shook his head as he set his plate of pasta down, the pasta that Natasha so lovingly made for the group. “You’re too pretty to be a virgin.”

“Who’s a virgin?”

Of course, Bradley comes back just in time to hear that part.

“Your little freshman, that’s who.” Jake chuckled as he patted your shoulder. A blush fanning across your cheeks as you scowl at the Texan, only making him laugh harder.

All through high school you’d always wanted more. You’d talk to guys, you went on a few dates but nothing went anywhere. It wasn’t anything you were ashamed of. But you did feel like you were missing out. Frowning to yourself when your roommate would complain about her boyfriend, but you couldn’t relate to everything. But of course, you didn’t want everyone to know about your lack of experience.

“Nice, Jake, thanks for that.” You scoff and shove his hand away.

Bradley chuckles now too, “Nothing wrong with being a little inexperienced. College is about exploration, isn’t that right Jake?” The man smirked knowingly, about what, you didn’t know. But it caused Jake to shut up and take a sip of his beer. Grumbling something before grabbing his plate and taking it to the sink. You shiver as you felt Bradley lean down, his hot breath tickling your ear, “He fucked around with a senior sorority girl last year, she shoved her finger up his ass during their last romp. He called it after that. Hasn’t flirted with a sorority girl since.” Bradley whispered before leaning back and you chuckled as you looked back at him.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, really.” He nodded, “Hey, and the oven is free now..if you wanna bake those brownies you were talking about.”

“Hey, I gotta take off. You comin’ Bob?” Natasha’s voice broke through the overlay of conversations.

You looked over at her with a frown. “You’re leaving?” She was collecting her bag as Bob also stood up, muttering something to her before nodding.

“Yeah, I have to go to a meeting tomorrow, wanna make sure I can sleep this off.” The woman chuckled before coming up to me and pulling me into a hug. “But we gotta hang out again, alright? I liked talking with you. Here,” She pulled out her phone and handed it to me with the “create new contact” screen open. You smile and quickly enter your information, then hand it back. “Thanks, I’ll text you.” Her and Bob made a quick round, also deciding to give Mickey and Reuben a ride too since they rode with Jake. And he was effectively out of service right now after chugging a six pack on a dare from Javy.

Slowly other people remembered things they had to do this weekend. Study for a test, a hot date, club outings. Soon enough it was just you and Bradley. And a decommissioned Jake.

The glass door slid closed again as Jake came back inside, he’d been going in and out a lot. You can only assume to puke. Right now you were looking up the ingredients you still needed and listing them off to Bradley. “That everything?” You glanced at the countertop, then back at your phone.

“Yup!”

“Okay, what now?”

“Now I bake? What did you think we were going to do now?”

He chuckled at your sarcasm and shook his head slightly, “I meant, what did you want me to do now?” Your brows pinched together in confusion, huh?

“What do you mean want you to do?” You questioned him with a chuckle, turning back to the counter to start. Only then realizing you still did need something, “Hey, where’s the measuring cups?”

Bradley wandered over towards you and gently moved you by your waist. Fingers curling into the plushness, firm but soft. You could feel the heat of his wide hands through your shirt. You went willingly of course. Watching intently as he opened a drawer and pulled out the measuring cups and spoons. “I wanna help you bake.” He nodded with determination.

“Uhh..I usually bake alone.” You purse your lips, timidly reaching out and grabbing the measuring utensils from him. The man scoffed and shook his head.

“Well now you have me as a slave, you can tell me what to do. I am your assistant chef, or whatever?” He huffed a laugh making you chuckle and shake your head at him now. Taking the hair tie from your wrist, you throw your hair into a lazy updo.

“You’re ridiculous.”

It was actually fun. He did things without complaint. If he was being annoying, you’d make him mix things and he’d do it. The two of you joked and messed around, you spilt some flour which made him cause a big fuss about it.

“It isn’t that much!”

“That’s so much! You’re a maniac!”

“Am not, you’re just dramatic- why are you taking your shirt off?”

“This is my best button down! I am not letting you tarnish it!”

“Bradley, it’s literally flour- you really are a drama queen!”

“Am not!”

You got annoyed again and made him mix the flour out of spite. He still put the tacky shirt on the counter, leaving him in his white undershirt that was honestly worse. Not that it’s a bad style, because that’s close to impossible to not look good in a plain white shirt. It’s just that he looks stupidly hot in something so simple.

Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you watched him from where you leaned against the counter. Half-lidded eyes taking in the sight of his muscles rippling under that slightly too tight tee-shirt.

Jake got up again and wandered outside.

“You think he’s really okay?” You asked, looking back at the glass door. You couldn’t see Jake outside, it was too dark and the lights inside were too bright. Bradley asked if he was alright after the first time, but he just waved him off.

“I’ve seen Jake drunk enough times to know.” He chuckles simply, “He’s been through worse. This look good?” The man picked up the bowl to show it to you. Oh my god, his arms…his forearms- You watched in silent agony. You narrowed your eyes, lips pouting as if you were looking at the batter and trying to analyze it. But really you were ogling his arms. Perfect cover. Watching intently as the thick bands of muscle tensed under his too tan for Virginia skin as he tilted the bowl. The veins that ran up his arms and down his hands.

“Looks…great. Fine.” You cleared your throat and picked up your beer again, taking a sip to try and mask your nerves. Jake came back in. “Hey..” He looked tired and wore a slight grimace on his face. “You okay?” You bothered to ask as he walked by. He just grumbled and rubbed his eyes. Going to the couch and flopping down on it. Promptly curling up and looking ready for a nap.

“Buddy, y’know I got that spare room-”

“‘M fine…” Jake interrupts. You look over at Bradley, he just shrugs it off.

So you speak up again, “You at least want some water?” He’s silent for a few beats before he mutters out something that sounded like a yes. You smile softly and grab a cup from the cabinet. Pouring some water from the battered brita pitcher and walking over to Jake, “Here..” You keep your voice quiet.

He opens his eyes and takes the cup from you, “Thanks, hun’.” The southerner offered a tired smile. You walked back to Bradley as he was taking a drink, you distantly heard him put the cup back down. Looking back to see him grab a throw pillow and scoot down the couch to try and sleep off the alcohol.

“What were we talking about again?” Bradley looked over as you asked this, he just smiled for a moment before handing the bowl over to you. His smile could give an old woman a heart attack, it was that dazzling.

“About my time traveling.” He reminded you, making you nod in return. “Anyways, I went on a whole ass trip to go see this girl that I was with through senior year. She got into some fancy college in England, and I was taking a gap year.” He crouched down and opened a cabinet. “So I was planning on visiting her for a month. She was planning everything. All of it, down from the hotels. Then, literally a week before my flight, she dumped me.” He found what he was looking for and handed you a square pyrex dish. Then he grabbed some parchment paper, finally standing up.

“No way!” You gasped.

“Yup..”

“Did you still go?”

“Yeah, no way am I not going.” He rolled his eyes before laughing softly, you smiled and nodded. He pulled out a long strip of parchment and measured it to the dish before cutting it. “So I went, right? And it was surprisingly fun. I just went around, no plan. Just going city to city, asking locals what I should do, where I should eat, and where to go when I get bored of the place I was at. Met some cool guys in.. fuck, where was it? Doesn’t matter! We hung out for a week, going bar hopping in small towns. I actually had a lot of fun.”

“That’s good that you still had fun.” You hummed as you started to pour the batter. Precariously holding the large bowl in one hand and pushing the batter out using a spatula with the other. You finished pouring and handed the bowl over to Bradley. Opening the oven you put the pan inside, closing it as you went to grab your phone. Turning on a timer for thirty-five minutes.

Your eyes traveled over to him again. Sneaking a peak of him as he stood at his sink watching dishes. It was like watching the ocean. The movements of the water, the same push and pull that looked that same every time. But it was always slightly different if you were paying enough attention to it. Like how he’s washing the dishes.. Different back muscles tensing when he scrubbed in circles, how his forearm flexes when he turns the dish over to get to the back of the bowl. His head tilted to inspect it occasionally.. Squeezing the soapy sponge in his hand over the dish to get more suds on it. God bless, you wish you were that sponge-

“You like it?” What? You look up to see him still washing the dishes, your mouth falling open slightly as you try to come up with an excuse. Sorry for ogling your massive fucking muscles? “Hello? The get together? Did you like hanging out?” He looked over his shoulder to meet your eyes.

Ohhh! “Oh! Yeah, yeah. Your friends are really nice, thanks for inviting me.” It came out a little stuttered, your cheeks flushed with the previous thoughts you were having. Heart still pounding a little too hard after his question, for a second you thought he caught you.

He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled lightly. “I’m glad, everyone seemed to like you. Mickey maybe liked you a little too much when you started geeking out with him over Star Wars, he’s such a fanboy.” That comment made your brows pinch.

“What do you mean liked me a little too much?” He turned off the water and snatched a dish towel. Scrunching it in his hand before he glanced down. Of course, you watched. His hair flopping down over his forehead, then he looked back up and ran a hand through his hair. Crossing his arms as he smiled at you.

“You know..”

“Wow, thanks for the context- ohhhhh.” It dawned on you, no way Mickey liked you like that. “I don’t think so.” You brushed it off, shifting your weight to one foot as you copied him and crossed your arms. Then switching it up and reaching for your beer, but it was empty.

“I’m his friend, I think I’d be able to tell better than you.” Bradley scoffed slightly. Why is he bringing this up anyways? You toss out the bottle in the trash near the sink.

“And guys have never been interested in me, not like that at least.” You wandered over to the fridge to look for something to drink. Trying to play cool, to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

You heard him walking closer as you reached in and grabbed a can of soda. Closing the fridge you turned, flinching as you brushed against him, “oh- hi?”

“If I kissed you right now, how would you feel?”

“Excuse me?”

“If I kissed you-“

“Please-“

Before you knew it his large hands were cupping your cheeks and his lips were smashed against yours. You could feel the scratch of his mustache on your skin as he kissed you greedily.

Trying your best to keep up with his pace despite not being all too experienced. Hands grabbing at his shirt as he slowly started to shuffle forwards, causing you to stumble back too. His hands quickly found your hips, gently pushing you back. He ended up crowding you against the counter, the edge digging into your lower back.

It was dizzying. Hands gripping, pressing lips, panting and moaning into each other's mouths. Only thing to shock you out of it was when your feet are off the ground. You’re quick to grip his wide shoulders, gasping against his lips. The cool feeling of the counter under you makes you shiver despite the thick material of your jeans. He chuckles and you glance up. His face is flushed and his lips are slightly swollen and sticky looking from your lipgloss, you can imagine you look similar.

Reaching up you brush your thumb over his mustache causing the corners of his lips to quirk up slightly. His hand circles your wrist as he moves your hand, pressing a quick peck to your palm, transferring some lip gloss to your skin. Then the man i’s guiding it to rest over his shoulder. Following his lead and bringing your other arm ip to loosely hug around his shoulders. A hum leaves him before he leans back in. Softer this time, slower. His own hands find their way to your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter.

Bradleys tongue swiped your bottom lip making you shiver slightly, but you relented. Opening your mouth to him. His tongue brushing your own, teeth knocking together as your fingers find their way into his hair.

Giving a slight tug as he licks into your mouth causes him to groan. His hands gripping the plush of your hips a little tighter in retaliation.

“Don’t be mean..” he muttered before moving down to your neck. The scratch from his mustache was a delicious contrast to his kissing.

“You seem to like it.” You chuckled before interrupting yourself with a stifled moan as he bit down on your bottom lip. He soothed it with his tongue before firmly kissing you once more. Eyes fluttering shut as you try to hug him closer. His calloused fingers finding their way under the hem of your top. Then sliding further up to grasp at your bare waist.

It's a quiet but passionate exchange. Losing track of time in the heat of it. Eventually he pulls away, soft pants leaving your kiss swollen lips. Your breath stutters once more as his lips find your neck. Wet languid kisses pressed to the sensitive skin of your neck. Starting from just below your ear and traveling down to your pulse point. A sigh leaving your lips, fingers weaving their way through Bradleys hair again.

He stood between your spread legs, your knees pinching his hips as if to keep him close. Your heart was beating out of your chest. You were more than sure that he could feel your racing pulse against his lips from where he was kissing you.

“Bradley..”

He only hummed against your neck, dragging his lips down the skin. The feeling of his mustache appreciated as you gave a hum in return.

The sound of the alarm buzzing from your phone made the two of you flinch away from each other.

A subtle jingle and vibrating noise filled the kitchen. Soft pants from the both of you joined the sounds of the alarm as you two just stared at each other. Processing what was just happening. Processing how the time was lost to the two of us. How thirtysomething minutes was a blur of kisses and touches that probably shouldn’t have been happening.

Jake groans from his spot on the couch. Bradley steps away and pulls open a random drawer. Swallowing thickly you chance a glance back at Jake. “What’s the deal?” The Texan groans as he gets up from the couch. The alarm..

“Sorry..” Grabbing your phone you turn off the alarm, watching as the cocky blonde goes outside once more.

Biting your bottom lip again, you watch Bradley grab the brownies from the oven. Tilting it towards you before asking, “These good?” It came out gruff, a little like he was upset. Just then you take in the hard lines of his tensed shoulders. His closed off demeanor, like he wasn’t comfortable in his own skin.

“Yeah..” You whispered softly, he set the pan down on the stove top. He cleared his throat, and you watched as he looked back to the door before coming back over to you.

“Honey,” Shit..”That..That can’t happen again.” He doesn’t fully meet your eyes, only meek glances. It’s not the Bradley you're used to. And it definitely wasn't the Bradley who was sliding his hands up your shirt barely five minutes ago.

“Why not?” It was a challenge, a frown pulling on your lips as you narrowed your eyes at him. Asking him to try pulling something out of his ass and seeing if you’d actually accept it as an answer.

The mustached man makes a noise deep in his throat, some form of grunting-growl. “I- You’re a freshman and I’m a junior. An older junior, at that, I’m twenty-six.”

“And?” You rolled your eyes, sliding off the counter and shaking your head again. “Listen, I like you. I don’t care that you're a little older than me.” You try to laugh it off as you walk to the stove, picking up a stray knife to start cutting the hot chocolatey treat.

“Honey-” The door slides open again.

“Okay- that didn’t make it on the grass this time.” Jake announces as he closes the door behind himself. He wandered over to the breakfast bar and sat down on one of the stools.

Bradley inwardly sighed before giving Jake a tight lipped smile. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll hose it tomorrow.”

======

Whoops.. sorry not sorry pookie

kinda lazy writing, end is kinda rushed been sitting in my drafts and i wanted to write something else but wanted to post this

#Bradley Bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #topgun fanfic #rooster imagine

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pinkandpurple360 · 6 months

Text

Stella is “The most evil character in the entire series” right…

They’re very much same, and that works! They both suck. Two selfish petty spoiled brats. It’s a new dynamic we’ve never seen before. Making her the domestic abuser #189 in the series just to minimise stolas’ creepiness and shove stolitz in my poor unwilling eyeballs is bad writing

Since she is the big bad bitch 💅 the final boss of the universe apparently- stopping the beautiful holy grail it’s not rape-if-they-both-get-off Stolitz let’s morally compare her to Stolas and Blitz (this will contain spoilers!)

- Wants husband dead for cheating.

Im sorry but given how humiliated she feels and how unapologetic he is about the cheating in between wimpy excuses like ‘i couldnt find a motel’ and pretending she feels no betrayal when she’s screaming at him that she does, embarrassment is a form of betrayal this makes sense? Did she give and then get it slapped back in her face? Yes. But her motive makes sense.

She threw a silly public I hate my marriage party loudly discussing her sex life and so did he, a loud divorce party. And he discussed sex and being horny in front of his 17 year old daughter. Ignoring Blitzs non stop resistance and lack of consent. They should both be embarrassed of themselves. The main protagonist (It’s supposedly blitz by the way not stolas) is an assassin himself. Stolas has hired this exact assassin to kill plenty of people for him. I just don’t value Stolas’ life as superior to the imp lives he takes the same way that he values himself. And he’s been fine with putting Moxie and Millie “the littler ones who aren’t Blitzy” in danger many times without even acknowledging them as people. Screw this guy. In this show what Stella does is in-line with the morality considering what IMPs job is. Remember those guys?? They specialise in killing cheaters, Blitz has probably killed countless cheating husbands in and outside of hell, next!

- Loudly airs their dirty laundry about how much she hates being married to Stolas and doesn’t want to have sex with him and she’s glad she had a baby quick enough to not have to pretend to be attracted to him cause she finds him pathetic (but he actually is, anyone who abuses the weak then cries in self pity when someone his own size says something, is very pathetic)

How dare she not want to fuck him. How. dare. How dare she resent the man she was forced to marry and sleep with. Especially since. He is sex personified.

Just look at that sexy face—urgh sorry I just threw up a little in my mouth.

- She tried to slap him

Yes. That is not ok. Don’t slap people.

- SO, the “appeal” of Stolas is that he is full of repressed spicy gay barely consensual racist coded desires, and he will get them at any cost. Which appeals exclusively to lovers of the forbidden fruit trope, and makes the object of his lust and many queer viewers like myself feel…sick. He loves his daughter who is becoming more miserable by the day by his neglect and (🚨!) is going to turn into angry “You can’t be with him! Gasp you love him don’t you! It’s him or me!” Elsa in the finale. I’m so sorry Octavia. Three times they’ve done this to you. Blitz literally bullies Moxie worse than Stella bullies Stolas and I am not exaggerating. Loona abuses Blitzø worse than Stella. I care more about my boy Moxie who’s only crime is being too silly sometimes. T - T Stolas however is a coward who sexually and violently preys on, condescends, and exploits those he sees as beneath him. This is mainly our main characters? Who we are supposed to root for? Who he constantly puts in harms way for his own preferences even though he has an ARMY, PROPHETIC VISIONS AND CAN PETRIFY ENEMIES

Stella finds his sexualising of imps disgusting - and she has a point—cause she’s also bigoted but honestly that’s better than having an imp sex plaything like Stolas does while maintaining the bigoted attitude that has destroyed Blitzs entire self worth—oh wait according to Seeing Stars he’s into it now ok? Oh but in Oops he’s mad at his exploitation again? BUT HE LAUGHS AT HIS GORE JOKES! Season 2 writing sucks when the feathered twig ass is involved

Leave him alone… you should be an actual registered sex offender..

#Helluva Boss #rant #Stella Goetia #this guy sucks #in a bad way 💅

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foxymoxynoona · 9 months

Text

Over the Falls Ch. 2: Bomb

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s… fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit, Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

“You’re pursing your lips!” Taro called back to Jungkook. His attempts to unpurse them failed beneath his glare; he pursed them tighter, then squeezed his eyes shut accidentally while trying to relax his lips. Thinking about it all caused him to drag the rhythm and Yoongi abruptly stopped.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook scowled at Taro. “Who cares what my mouth is doing when I’m not singing?”

“I care, it doesn’t look cool.”

“Well stop looking back at me and you won’t see it. The audience is that way,” Jungkook said, pointing with his stick to the front of the garage where Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Corri chilled with beers on cheap folding chairs. They weren’t paying any attention to the rehearsal, certainly not to anything Jungkook’s face was doing behind the drums.

“Yeah but–”

“No one cares what his fucking face does,” Soyoon agreed with him. “They care whether he nails that tricky rhythm.”

“Thank you–”

“If he looks like a muppet, so what?”

Jungkook’s grateful grin slid into a scowl. Soyoon smiled.

Yoongi’s voice sounded equally as deceptively supportive as he suggested, “Maybe more like a tarsier.”

“I was thinking tree frog,” Taehyung called over.

“You’re all fucking assholes,” Jungkook huffed and did a run on the drums as loud as he could as punishment. They were unfortunately unbothered. As unbothered as they should have been about whatever concentration face he made as he drummed. They had no idea the coordination and focus it required!

“Don’t listen to them,” Hoseok insisted as soon as the cacophony died down. “You’re handsome no matter what face you make, that’s why they’re being like that. They’re jealous. You look so cool when you drum, you’re stealing the show.”

It was too over the top. Jungkook sighed and let his head hang as his friends got their laughs out.

“What? What did I say?” Hoseok mumbled as Jimin patted his arm and shushed him. Hoseok was the only one of their group to say something like that and mean it sincerely, but no one could take it seriously. Alas.

“Let’s just take it from the top,” Yoongi said. “Last song of the night and I’m out.”

“Out? Why out? We’re performing this weekend,” Taro instantly argued. Jungkook saw the twitch of Yoongi’s lips, only the faintest sign he ever showed that he was annoyed.

“Yeah, so we had the extra rehearsal.”

“I just want us to do well,” Taro insisted. “This isn’t a normal performance. It’s a competition.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the snicker, “For Aughts Coverbands. It’s not that deep, Taro, you don’t have to be a bitch about my face.”

“Gee, can’t imagine why you can’t get laid lately.”

“The fuck do you know about it? I can get laid whenever I–” Jungkook sputtered. Really? She had to say that right in front of Corri?!

Soyoon sighed noisily, “We all know you want to win, we all know Junky can get laid, can we just do it already?” God he hated that nickname, if anyone besides Soyoon called him that he’d lose his shit, but somehow she’d always been able to use it as a hook to draw him back. He rolled his eyes at her, as expected, and she grinned and thumbed a line on the bass.

“Winning is fun,” Taro huffed. “I thought at least Jungkook would agree with me.”

“You’re talking shit about my face! We aren’t going to lose because of my face!”

“Only when you purse your lips like that.”

“I’m just concentrating.”

“You’re supposed to make it look effortless.”

“You wanna drum?” he asked, standing from the stool and holding the sticks out. She rolled her eyes and looked away. She’d once tried to pick it up and failed miserable, she lacked the coordination and muscle for it. And Jungkook had taken the high road and not teased her (too bad) about it. Her inability to play any instrument didn’t matter; she was a kickass lead vocalist and frontwoman, even though she sucked before any performance she deemed important. Yeah, Jungkook wanted to do well in a competition, obviously, but it wasn’t supposed to be a source of stress. They were a mostly-covers band, not some music act out to change the world. It was just supposed to be fun. Jungkook had managed to calm down the hyper-competitive streak of his younger days and wasn’t interested in getting all wrapped up in it again.

“I’m just trying to help you get laid,” she mumbled.

“Why are you so worried whether he’s getting laid?” Taehyung asked, just as loudly as before, as if Corri hadn’t already heard all of this. Corri, one of the women uninterested in laying him despite their past lays.

“I’m not. I just think he seems frustrated.”

“Yeah because our vocalist keeps talking shit about my concentration face.”

Yoongi started to play the chorus, a not-so-subtle sign he was bored with the bickering banter.

“Yeah I’m frustrated but not about… whatever, just play the song,” Jungkook huffed. Corri’s obvious avoidance of looking in his direction suddenly embarrassed him, when he usually could shrug off teasing no problem. He didn’t care that Corri didn’t want to fuck anymore, it wasn’t like they had been a thing, it just was embarrassing for someone you weren’t a thing with to tell you they wanted to be even less of a thing… Suddenly he wondered if Corri and Taro had been talking about him….

Before anyone (Taro) could escalate further, Soyoon scolded, “Elizabeth. Sing the damn song so I’m not late to teaching.”

Taro —real name Elizabeth– scowled in Soyoon’s direction this time and Jungkook settled back onto his stool. He flexed his fingers and cracked his neck to get ready for the final run-through of all three songs they would play at the competition: “Misery Business” by Paramore, “All Around You” by Flyleaf, and “The Real Mothers” by Screaming Females. Jungkook could have done without Flyleaf but Taro had gotten to choose the final song after a cutthroat tournament of rock-paper-scissors. Granted, Jungkook would have preferred to cover at least one male-led song, but he wasn’t going to go there.

Instead he did his best to keep his face neutral and un-pinched as he played, his best effort to be above reproach. Yoongi was who he cared more about impressing though; Taro was a great vocalist but when it came to musical talent, Yoongi was their lead with Soyoon not far behind. The two of them wrote and composed all their original stuff and did the arrangements for their covers. The two of them could have gone pro, really, but they had their reasons for being in this hobby band, just like Taro did, just like Jungkook did.

Fun. It was all supposed to be fun.

Usually he liked rehearsal, but Taro was right about one tiny thing: he was frustrated. But it wasn’t about sex! Or at least not about his sex. It was about a particular video sitting on his phone that he had no fucking clue what to do about. He had hoped to ask Yoongi what he thought but then felt stupid about it as they kicked off rehearsal and there wasn’t any time afterwards. As soon as the set was done, Soyoon and Yoongi both split for their evening gigs.

Taro’s face went through a tornado of emotions before she finally put her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and said, “Sorry. Your face is fine. I just want us to look good but I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“Whoever you have coming to the show isn’t going to fuck or not fuck you because of what my face does.”

She growled, “Come on, I apologized. Don’t be a shit.” But it was allowed. That’s how things were between them, had been for the ten years they’d known each other since their first pick up performances as teens, back when she was just Beth and not the artist known as Taro. He grinned and she pinched his cheek and that was the end of it; she and Corri disappeared with only a backward wave.

Jungkook expected to be on his own for the last bit of cleanup but Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok shuffled around the garage helping with it. They’d done their best to waterproof the garage but after a leak had come a little too close to an amp, Jungkook was too nervous to leave anything of value on the ground ever again. He’d built a shaky wooden platform for his kit, made sure all the cables and amps were on shelves and hooks against the windowless wall, and kept the other instruments inside the house. Yoongi’s garage had been nicer and at the top of a hill but after his neighbors called the cops on them twice, they’d moved to Jungkook’s garage. His neighbors didn’t give a shit; everyone was noisy here. They usually played with the door open anyways because it got hot as fuck in there with only a couple fans and sometimes people would sit out on their porches to listen. Jimin had the great idea of adding an air conditioner but with what fucking money? Someday. Maybe with the prize money if they won the competition! The 2000s were the worst decade of music as far as Jungkook was concerned, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t win…

He felt the stirrings of ambition and squashed it.

“Paramore and Flyleaf,” he mumbled as Jimin and Taehyung sang lyrics over each other while they looped cables.

“What’s wrong with Paramore?” Hoseok asked. “Besides that you’re too young to remember them.”

“I’m not too young. I remember “Ain’t It Fun,” that album. And I remember these songs! I like them. The drumming is good, and they’re good for Taro’s voice.”

“But… you’d rather be playing something else?”

“I just don’t like the competitions,” he admitted. “I’d rather be doing our usual set for our usual stage. No stress, no worries–”

“Yeah you don’t like it because you’re a sleeping competitive asshole,” Jimin snickered.

Jungkook looked around for anything left down as he demanded, “What does that mean, sleeping?”

“It means you want everything to think you’re chill. Surfer life, ya?” Jimin teased, making two shaka gestures. His mockery was idiotic considering he surfed almost as much as Jungkook did, although he hadn’t gone as much lately. Work. “We’ve known you too long. We know you like to crush the competition.”

“Nah, man, that’s not me anymore.”

Jimin and Taehyung shared a look. Jungkook backhanded Taehyung in the stomach because he was closest, then motioned for them to get out so he could drag the garage door closed. The clicker had been broken for a while and every time one of them tried to fix it, it just broke again. Handymen they were not despite their best efforts, Jungkook in particular. He just didn’t have the knack for it, so he was learning, that was all. Their landlord didn’t have to be such a shitbag about his attempts gone awry. If he’d just call the fucking plumber or contractor or whatever it was on time, Jungkook wouldn’t have to take matters into his own hands! Or worse, Taehyung or Jimin went after it.

“What are we doing for dinner?” Taehyung asked as they kicked their shoes off by the back door. Jungkook ignored the question, assuming it was intended for Jimin or Hoseok, or at least not him. Briefly looking at his phone with the thought of delivery –followed by the painful reminder of his bank account– nudged his attention back to the video. The video. The one currently living in the Recently Deleted folder on his phone, chilling in limbo for 30 days until he either restored it or let his phone delete it for good. He felt no closer to making a decision on what to do with it. Forget he knew this and let it disappear? Give it to Mrs. Birch because she deserved to know she was married to an epic dipshit?

“JK?”

“Yeah episode four, I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“Are we talking about what to watch?”

“What show are you even talking about?” Jimin laughed at him. “We’re talking about food! Dinner!”

“Oh. Uh…”

Taehyung snickered and nudged him with an elbow as he passed through the door, “He’s thinking about the video.”

“Grossss.”

“I’m not— I’m not thinking about the video,” Jungkook argued. It was a lie; they could tell it was a lie. He didn’t appreciate their joke of making it sound like he was thinking-thinking about it, rather than stressing about it. Stressing wasn’t his style.

“Just delete it, man,” Taehyung said. “You don’t need some guy’s nut on your phone. No offense to the gays in the room.”

“None taken, I don’t want some asshole’s nut on my phone either,” Jimin snickered.

“Yeah but….”

Jimin, still grinning, countered, “Stop being a puss and just tell the wife what you found. She deserves to know and once she’s done being heartbroken, she’ll appreciate it,” Jimin countered. “Maybe a lot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Jungkook deeply regretted having drunkenly shared a Mrs. Birch fantasy with Jimin just one time, which Jimin would now never ever forget.

Their “advice” was too much like teasing. It didn’t feel serious and had already put him in a bad mood when they first acted like this when he told them yesterday. Not everything was a joke. He wanted to live like that too, sure! But he had a real moral conflict here and he didn’t appreciate them making it sound like he was getting some kind of sick pleasure –either out of having a fucking porn video of that spaghetti-dick Tim or of hoping to get into Mrs. Birch’s good graces as a hero. He didn’t feel like this was heroic. He felt like a fucking creep to have taken it in the first place. He felt like it was infecting his phone. He felt like he was holding a bomb that was going to blow up a marriage and really hurt a good person.

Not that he really knew her and whether she was a good person. For all he knew she had Nice White Lady Syndrome for “the Help” and was an entitled privileged bitch elsewhere. She’d married that fucker, after all, so she had to be like into that kind of guy and lifestyle and all that. Maybe she had her side pieces too, for all he knew! And it just wasn’t him! He didn’t want to insert himself into what could be a really sick, fucked up marriage.

“What if the dude comes after me?” he mused. He flopped down on the couch, instantly comforted by the broken-in cushion that nearly swallowed him. “He could get me fired. Sue me. Ruin my life. I dunno.”

“For exposing his cheating?” Taehyung’s face crinkled up. “Then we fuck him up.”

“He’s rich.”

Jimin tapped his chin and pointed out, “Ah, it’s true, it probably wasn’t legal for you to take that video, right?”

“Huh?”

“You filmed a guy having sex in his own house,” Jimin said. “I just mean… having the video is probably a risk. You should either pass it along or get rid of it, but only if you know the wife won’t turn on you. Rich people… you gotta be careful with them.”

“She…” Jungkook started to say she wouldn’t… but he didn’t know. He didn’t actually know her at all. And now Jimin and Taehyung were making him more scared than guilty. He couldn’t get sued. He didn’t have money! He didn’t have time for court. And his family wouldn’t be able to handle the shame. Who would watch Max when Yoojin got called into work without warning? Who would help his dad set up literally any new electronic device or go grocery shopping with his mom so she didn’t have to carry all the bags into the house because Yoojin was busy with Max and his dad worked a lot and Haewon didn’t live at home anymore? His parents needed him more than ever now, he couldn’t go to jail just because he was trying to do something “good” for a woman he didn’t even know! A thing she probably wouldn’t even appreciate!

He turned to Hoseok, hoping for some meaningful insight from him. Hoseok was a few years older and easily the most mature, experienced person in the house right now. Aside from his choice in dating Jimin, he tended to demonstrate good taste and clear judgment. Jimin and Taehyung could be hit or miss on their advice but Hoseok had a knack for people. Jungkook rebelled at their stirring of the pot, making him so nervous. He wasn’t a nervous guy. There had to be an easy, simple solution.

But Hoseok, who hadn’t said a word this whole time, nor when Jungkook first stupidly told these guys about the video two days ago, just read from his phone, “Kalasha is doing a free delivery special to celebrate the new restaurant. Chicken? Egg sandwiches?”

“Yeah, chicken!” Taehyung quickly agreed. Jungkook understood: they were done talking about this, and he sure wasn’t going to be the needy baby demanding more advice that he didn’t even appreciate. He was both relieved and annoyed. This was his mess. He had to figure this out on his own. But he could have used some good advice.

“Egg sandwich,” he said. “Is there one with chicken too? I’m gonna hit the gym later tonight and surf in the morning so I need that protein, yo!” There, Jungkook back to himself, and his friends readily accepted it.

The crash of the waves against the shore drowned out all else. Early mornings had a cool humidity to them, leaving a cold sweaty feeling on Jungkook’s skin, his hair wild and crunchy from the salt. The warm water lapped his ankles, sand sucking out from beneath his toes as the water swirled and then retreated, only to be overrun by the next impatient wave. It was a beautiful morning to be out, perfect surf conditions, beach not yet overrun by the tourists who would flock here once they’d finished their brunch and mimosas at the nearby resort.

Jungkook shook the wet hair out of his face and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze off the water. The scent of salt and fish, sharp and pungent, was home to him. He breathed in deeply and tried to let everything else in the world sift from his mind. That was the beauty of surfing, it took all of you, for a brief time you were nothing but a fleck of energy carried by the water. That was what he liked about drumming too. He liked things that consumed him.

Surfing early in the morning had many advantages, when the tide worked out. Nice weather. Quieter beach. Fewer rookies.

“How’s the break, bro?” Carver asked, coming up behind and slapping him on the shoulder. Jungkook saw Missy trailing further up the beach, board perched on her head. He took his eyes off Hoseok only for a second to answer,

“Yeah, bomb breaks today.” He slapped Carver’s back in return. “You’re late for dawn patrol though, eh?”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Someone couldn’t get out of bed this morning.” He jerked his thumb at Missy. Jungkook’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, knowing he’d be awkward. Carver and Missy had been dating a year now or something like it, and for at least a year before that Carver had trailed along behind her like a lovesick dickhead while Missy didn’t have the time of day for him. Jungkook had spent many a daybreak catching waves with her but she’d seemed unbothered by any of his attempts at flirting –until suddenly one day she took a liking to Carver and now they stayed up all night fucking so she couldn’t make it to the beach on time. Jungkook hated that he knew that. He was fine that she’d never given him a chance but he was bummed to see less of two people he enjoyed.

And also that they were just so happy together.

Fuck, he just knew too much about other people’s fuck lives without having one of his own to occupy his thoughts.

He gave a wave to Missy and headed out to the water just as Hoseok slid smoothly onto the beach. He sure didn’t let his bedmate keep him from catching those early breaks under the first streaks of light. His hair spiked and his smile glowed as he took those first heavy steps off the board and then immediately turned around to drag it back into the water a few yards behind Jungkook.

“I’ve only got time for one more,” he called, voice swallowed by the surf but Jungkook still heard and remembered he’d said that earlier, he had an earlier shift as a manager at the resort. It was a really demanding job, and he busted his ass. But he was still here! Unlike Taehyung. Jimin was practically a hodad at this point anyway so it didn’t really matter if he was here since he just distracted Hoseok anyway.

Jungkook walked until he had to glide and paddle. The sun was steadily heating up on his back but the water felt cool by comparison, drenching the thin fabric of his rash guard. He kept his eyes on the horizon where sea birds flitted and landed, and a couple fishing boats in the distance seemed to hover. Greenish fish darted beneath the shadow of his board. A shadow of a cloud passed over but otherwise the sky was clear and would no doubt be scorching later. Work was going to be hot today. He had three pools to clean, and then had promised Yoojin he’d take Max in the evening. She was being cagey as shit about why she needed the sitting, which probably meant she had a date and she knew very well how Jungkook felt about that. Yoojin’s taste in men was as shitty as her cooking. Max was the only good thing her ex had ever done in his life, and he wasn’t even still involved except for an occasional miniscule child-support check.

When he got far enough out, he straddled the board and waited as first one and then a second mushburger made him bob. Too gentle to ride. Sitting in the lull was peaceful though and gave Hoseok time to catch up. Jungkook breathed the breeze and watched his friend sit up several yards away. As the first one out, Jungkook had wave priority, but he knew Hoseok had somewhere to be.

“You want the next one?” he called.

“Nah bro, you’re first!”

“I can wait. I’m floating.”

“No no it’s fine, you first.”

“Eh…” Jungkook sighed as a totally surfable swell raised beneath them. Neither of them took it, just watched as it peeled. “Damn, would’ve been perfect.”

“Take it,” Hoseok insisted. “I can chill.”

Jungkook briefly considered it. Felt his muscles tense as another swell began to rise behind him. But being out here was soothing, and he felt tendrils dragging at his mind again that he wasn’t willing to face once he went back to shore. Out here he was nothing, nobody, just a piece of driftwood on the sea. Back on land, he had a job to do. The Birch pool was on his roster today, and he was no closer to figuring out what to do with the video in his trash folder. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as the wave once again passed them and broke.

“Bro,” Hoseok called. “You ok?”

“What do I do about that video, man?” Jungkook sighed, shouting to be heard over the distance. “I just don’t know… I gotta face her today and what, know her husband is fucking around and that she probably doesn’t know? But damn I don’t want to be tied up in some rich person bullshit…”

Hoseok shook his head, “Yeah, you can’t get into that shit. Richies will rip you up, they don’t give a shit you were trying to do a good thing.” Of course, Hoseok saw lots of shitty rich people in his resort job. Jungkook had briefly worked there as a cabana boy too. He remembered. Oh boy, did he remember.

“Yeah but…” Jungkook sighed. They were all right. He knew they were right, and his family would give the same advice if he asked –which he wouldn’t, because he would never talk to his family about personal problems like that. They had enough of their own and he was the eldest now so it was his job to help them.

But he also just had this painful twist in his stomach at the idea of Mrs. Birch being married to that piece of shit. Probably the fucker was going to catch something and give it to her and that’s how she’d fine out. He’d get some other chick pregnant. She’d walk in on it and be traumatized. Maybe she was secretly as shitty as the rest but if she wasn’t, didn’t she deserve to know the kind of man she married? Since apparently she hadn’t already figured it out on her own? But it wasn’t Jungkook’s job to tell her…

“I see that look,” Hoseok laughed, splashing Jungkook to get his attention. “You want to do it. That’s why I don’t like to give you advice. You just do what you’re going to do anyway.”

“The thing is, I would want to know,” Jungkook said.

“You aren’t her. You should be worried about yourself. She doesn’t care about you.”

It hurt to hear. It was true. He didn’t like to hear it but appreciated the honesty.

“I know but… otherwise what, I keep cleaning their pool and keep knowing and don’t say anything? That’s not who I am. I want to be an honest person no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Hoseok laughed. “It’s admirable but sometimes not the best.”

Jungkook let out a noisy sigh.

And then had an idea.

“What if it’s not me that tells her?” he said, slowly turning his board after it drifted. “What if I just give her the video anonymously? Then she knows but no one knows it’s me.”

Hoseok’s face screwed up, “How would you even do that?”

“Burn a dvd. Leave it in her mailbox?”

“They probably have cameras all over the place. Or they’ll data mine the DVD or whatever…”

But Jungkook was onto something and he knew it. Fine, a USB stick, and he didn’t think it had to be that secure because he hadn’t seen anything that made him think either of the Birchs was that technically smart and they were going to have bigger things to worry about anyway, right? Like divorce. Divorce that would bring that piece of rich-ass shit to his dry, wrinkled knees.

“Nah bro, this will work!” Jungkook beamed. He felt an instant lightness swell within him that had nothing to do with the lift of another wave beneath the board. “Ya, ok, it’s a plan. Let’s get it!”

“Wait, but JK–”

“I’m taking this one!” he called, ignoring Hoseok’s concerns. There was no good path forward but this was the best one. Probably Mrs. Birch would be hurt but at least no one could trace it to him and he wouldn’t have to admit to her he’d been the one to record it and no one could sue him for what pennies he had to his name.

He caught the next wave, leaping to his feet at the lip of it as he drew in a deep, joyful breath. This was the best part. Flying. Adrenaline coursed through his body, just the right amount to make him feel like a beam of sunlight, the rough board beneath his feet the only thing left to ground him as he cut his board across clear water that sprayed in his face. No barrels big enough to pull into this morning but the drop left his heart thumping in his chest and his head spinning. Nothing beat the high of a bitchin’ ride.

Suddenly the wave closed out, sending Jungkook tumbling into the water. The slap to his chest left him winded but he surfaced only a moment after his board bobbed, tugging his ankle by the leash. He flipped his hair back and lifted his face to the sun as he swiped the salt water from his eyes. Didn’t matter that he’d grubbed it, the ride had been excellent until then. Grubbing it was just part of the game.

With a lighter heart and a clear mind, Jungkook sloshed his way to shore to put his plan into action.

The orange envelope was on the front porch when she got home that day, tucked between the storm door and the wooden door as if the mailman had dropped it off. They often did that, even though Tim had built a big stupid UV box for packages. She couldn’t blame the mailmen for not wanting to open the lid of a heavy-looking mysterious box just to leave her latest pantry tupperware from Amazon or Tim’s Razor of the Month club or whatever, despite the insistent sign. She tried to always be the one to bring the mail in so she wouldn’t have to listen to Tim rail about packages left on the ground. He worried about that kind of thing. He thought he was the kind of person important enough for someone to send Anthrax to in the mail.

She’d grabbed the envelope on her way out to get the mail from the box, and tossed it all onto the kitchen counter since Tim was out of town and not here to gripe at her for even briefly making a mess.

“It’s unfair of me to be so critical towards him,” she scolded herself as she looked in the fridge to see what the personal chef had left her for dinner. Tim had actually been very pleasant lately. He’d finally agreed they ought to redecorate the bedroom (as long as it stayed white and gray), praised the dinner she made on a day the chef didn’t come, greeted her with daiquiris after she’d been swimming and asked her about her day as he untied the strings of her bikini.

Look, she knew those things shuffled over a low bar when listed out of context. But the context was that he’d been working hard and stressed for a while now. The latest acquisition was so close to signing and he was sweating it but the fact he was making an effort even in the midst of that meant a lot to her. It reassured her that once they were to the other side of this period of work, things were going to even out again. Tim would go back to being a bit less of a cranky asshole. She would go back to feeling less resentful, a little more charitable about the moodswings of her hard-working husband who was doing his best to succeed in a cutthroat industry. He wanted to make a name for himself beyond what his own father had accomplished. She admired that.

While the oven preheated, she flipped through the mail, mostly junk. When she got to the envelope though, she realized it was just addressed to Mrs. Birch, no mailing address, no stamp.

Her first thought was that a friend must have dropped something off for her, only to instantly consider it would be really weird for them to address it to Mrs. Birch. None of her friends called her that.

A client? But she never gave her personal address to anyone she worked for, there was no need for it anyway, she just had things mailed to the office space she kept.

Maybe she had forgotten something somewhere? Her license would have her name and address on it, but the salutation of Mrs. would be odd because how would the person know she was married? Unless she dropped something and they googled her? Her address was supposed to be unlisted but people had ways of searching public records.

She tore the end of the envelope open and out tumbled a CD in a jewel case. Her brow furrowed. Certainly not something she owned and left somewhere. Nothing was printed on the CD. She checked inside the envelope for any evidence of marketing material and found a folded piece of paper with a printed sentence:

Your husband is not who you think he is. He’s a fucking asshole.

Grace’s blood ran cold.

Tim’s involved with something bad. That felt like the immediate and obvious thing. Tim worked in business and he was constantly trying to get ahead, always working upstream and feeling behind. It made sense that he might have taken what looked like help in a moment of difficulty and wound up in over his head with something. Or someone. He could be short-sighted, she’d always secretly thought that about him.

“Oh god please don’t let it be something illegal,” she murmured, hand shaking as she turned the CD over in her hand. Just how bad could it be? Extortion? Money-laundering? Murder? No. No, Tim wasn’t capable of murdering someone, what a ridiculous thought.

But dirty business, with the confidence he wouldn’t be caught….?

The fact was that in the moment, at just one sentence prompt from a mysterious source, Grace’s trust in her husband tumbled like a tower of toothpicks. Instead of debating who would be out to malign her husband, Grace fretted whether this CD was safe for her to look at, or if simply by seeing whatever was on here, she might become an accomplice. What if he’d already done things to implicate her?

Grace was not going to prison for Tim!

Her heart pounded in her chest so painfully she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She set the CD quickly down on the counter and backed away, already contemplating whether she ought to wipe her fingerprints off. But no, no, it would make sense she opened an envelope addressed to herself. It didn’t mean she’d committed any crime–

And this didn’t mean Tim had either! She leaned against the counter and pressed her hand to her forehead.

Fuck, I’m a bad wife.

This was Tim, for fuck’s sake. He could be an asshole, the anonymous sender was right about that, but it didn’t mean he was doing anything illegal or dangerous or immoral. Probably this was some business thing, some colleague of his pissed about a move he’d made and trying to undermine him starting at home.

…But what if it wasn’t?!

Grace’s family had been in possession of significant money for several generations. Old money. 19th century American money funded by 18th century European money. She’d been raised with warnings and stories, not paranoia but awareness that sometimes the presence of money made people think you were an easy victim. Maybe Tim wasn’t the target here, maybe she was.

She grabbed her phone and placed a call and after only a few rings heard her father’s deep voice over the line, greeting, “Grace? What’s up, honeybell?”

“Hi Daddy, there’s a thing… it’s making me nervous so I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, realizing immediately how stupid she sounded. She should have pulled her thoughts together before calling.

“What’s the matter now? Something is what?” She could tell he was distracted over the line. Mid-day like this, he was probably out golfing, or at least at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Her dad was a creature of habit, an introvert who’d carved his safe places out over the decades they’d lived in Winnetka, Illinois. His days were predictable.

“Sorry, Dad, I just got spooked. Someone left a weird envelope at my house with a CD and–”

“Wait, who did what now?” he interrupted. Grace felt the shudder across her shoulders at that tone in her father’s voice, even knowing it wasn’t aimed at her. He’d been casual before but pulled himself into lawyer mode in only an instant.

“I’m just being silly,” she began. That’s what her mother would say. Calling her dad, interrupting his afternoon plans, because someone left a CD on her porch and she was freaked even though she didn’t even know what was on it.

“Someone left something on your porch? What did they leave?”

“I don’t know, a CD and a printed note that says, um…” She grimaced. “It says my husband isn’t who I think he is.”

The line was silent for a moment. Grace’s father had grown to love Tim. He’d be pissed at slander aimed her husband’s direction. He’d be furious about baseless accusations.

“You know who sent it? You know what’s on it?”

“No,” Grace said. “I called you right away.”

“Is Tim there?”

“He’s out of town.”

“All right, Grace, don’t touch a thing. Call Alan. Don’t do anything until Alan is there.”

Grace nodded as if he could see her and mused, “I don’t know whether I should call Tim. Maybe he has an idea–”

“Do not call Tim,” he interrupted. “Only Alan. Don’t talk to anyone else. He’ll bring a secure computer over to look at what’s on the CD and after that I want you to check into a hotel until this gets figured out. This person knows where you live and that your husband isn’t home–”

“So you think it’s something bad?”

“Well you do, don’t you, sweetheart? Calling me sounding like you’re having a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting–”

“No such thing with our family.”

“But it’s not like Tim is actually a bad man. The CD is probably just… I don’t know. Something stupid. Someone’s just angry at him for something…”

Grace wanted to hear her dad agree that she was overreacting. His serious response escalated her fears. She’d wanted to be talked off the ledge and instead he was calling in a SWAT team and helicopter rescue.

“Do as I say, Grace. Call Alan now and tell me when he’s there.”

Spooked, Grace did as he said. Within thirty minutes, Alan Theodorakos stood on her doorstep straightening his cuffs and adjusting his hair in the reflection of the one-sided mirror where a window used to be in the door. One of the family’s many lawyers, Alan had worked for Grace’s parents for many years before she moved to California; now, because of proximity, he’d served as Grace’s own legal counsel any time she’d needed it, even if just to oversee her affairs with specialized attorneys such as when she’d married and when they’d bought their house. Her father was a lawyer too, of course, but financial, and he never directly handled family matters himself anyway.

“Where is the CD?” he immediately asked when Grace welcomed him in.

“I left it on the kitchen counter.” She showed him where the jewel case lay next to the printed note and the torn envelope, her name side up. Alan took a photo of all of it and Grace felt that tremor in her stomach again. If everyone was taking this so seriously, maybe she wasn’t taking it seriously enough!

Alan had with him a laptop, just as her dad had said he would. They made only the most polite small-talk as he set it up and, with gloves, removed the CD from the case and inserted it into the tray. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and paced back and forth, afraid to look, unable to look away.

“It’s probably nothing,” she said to herself as much as to him. “I’m probably wasting your time, it’s just some disgruntled admin assistant or something…”

Alan didn’t have anything to say to that except, “Nothing is ever a waste of my time.” Because your family pays well, he didn’t need to say. Yes she’d wanted financial independence from her family, but legal counsel was one thing she let them fund, so sue me. Except don’t, please….

“It looks like there’s a video file,” Alan said, opening the CD. The filename was automated, generic. He double-clicked to pull it up and Grace held her breath, bracing herself for something. Perhaps her imagination was running away with her –this was very impractical, yes, when she usually prided herself on being a practical person– but her dad and Alan had her fearing the worst now. Kidnapping, torture, murder. At least a secret meeting discussing some money-laundering scheme that was going to land her in court for weeks defending her oblivious innocence as Tim’s spouse. I’m sorry, your honor, I’m a fool but I’m innocent.

“Let’s see,” Alan said and hit play.

And this was how Grace wound up watching a video of her husband fucking another woman while standing next to her father’s lawyer.

Grace’s mouth hung open. Somehow she was shocked, even when the deepest part of her brain taunted her for being so surprised. It was recent; she saw the blue flower arrangement on the kitchen counter without even needing a time stamp. She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was young and beautiful and not Grace.

“I can stop the video,” Alan murmured, reaching forward but Grace brushed his hand away. She stared, eyes glued to the screen as her heart shattered. Or her mind. Something inside of her shattered.

Every criticism, every fight, every distracted dinner and missed date and complete lack of concern for anything she cared about flew in her face now. She’d loved Tim to distraction, even when he was unfair, even when he was unkind, even when he’d been a nobody before. And now he was doing this behind her back, as if she was nothing to him! In their own home! On her own fucking kitchen counter?!

She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But her upbringing trained her better than that. She turned a tight-lipped grimace to Alan and said,

“It turns out this is a private affair.” Affair. Terrible choice of words.

“Indeed,” Alan nodded. “I can provide legal counsel however you’d like to proceed.”

“For now I just need discretion…” How would she like to proceed…. Grace couldn’t fucking answer that! She still was having a hard time processing that Tim was fucking around on her. Tim! Tim, who was so focused on work and deals and dollar signs that he barely had time for her anymore, much less…. Except apparently he did!

“What would you like me to say to your father?” Alan prodded.

Grace grimaced. There was no good answer. Her father paid Alan’s bills but he was here as her legal counsel. But if Alan gave her father a non-answer, he’d be calling her up for direct answers within minutes.

“I’ll call him,” she said, just to buy herself time. What was she going to say? It’s a private matter between Tim and I. Might as well put up a sign on the front lawn that her husband was cheating on her. And to admit that to her family! She couldn’t. There were exactly zero divorces in her family. If there had ever been infidelity, she sure didn’t know about it. A marriage was for life, and it was her job to make this marriage worked, even in the face of infidelity, especially after she’d defended this relationship so hard in the face of her family’s early concerns. God, they were going to think she was worse than an idiot!

“Very well.” Alan packed the CD back into the jewel case to leave with her, took his laptop, and bid her good day. With another offer to provide whatever help she needed, he was gone.

Grace stood alone in her kitchen and tried to make sense of this. Tim cheating. Someone filming it from within her property. Someone sending it for her to find. Some explanation she needed to give her father. A very painful conversation she needed to have with Tim without any understanding yet of what she wanted to have happen. Did she want him to grovel and apologize? Did she want the shame of being divorced and cheated on? What would her family say if she left? What would her family say if she stayed?

Grace sank down to the mat in front of the sink and tried to cry but she just felt numb. This couldn’t be real. She’d so carefully managed her life up until now. She had thought Tim was right there in the seat next to her. What was happening?!

In a brief moment of gumption, Grace called her dad and, before he could say a word, blurted out, “It turns out it’s a private matter between Tim and I. I’d rather not talk about it yet. Please don’t tell anyone else yet.” It was an impossible thing to ask, but she decided she’d try.

A pause had her heart in her throat. She felt like so much hung in the balance: would her father defend her dignity or her marriage?

“Why don’t you and Tim come for a visit? I’d like to spend an afternoon golfing with him, man to man.”

Her marriage.

Grace said a quick goodbye before any pained sobs could escape, let her face drop to her bent knees, and tried to squeeze the tears back in. Like everything else in her life, it seemed, she failed.

The days were long this week in a way Jungkook didn’t like, but he’d picked up the extra lifeguarding hours because he needed the money. Haewon needed textbooks and that shit was expensive so he’d told her to ask him instead of their parents and then demanded to know why she wanted to be a lawyer so bad anyway. Political Science. Boring as fuck, he couldn’t believe how much money they were paying for her to be a leech. She always screeched at him when he teased her about it. He just wanted to keep her humble, that’s why he teased.

It had been hot as balls on the beach that morning and he’d been stuck near the wharf which sucked swamp ass because you had to actually do stuff: namely, chase people away when they swam too close to the pillars. Which everyone wanted to do, because there was shade, and just blowing your whistle wasn’t enough because suddenly people “couldn’t hear you” and “didn’t know the whistle meant they were doing something wrong.” So you had to drag your ass all the way over to yell at them, and then by the time you got back up to your chair, some other fucker was doing the same thing. Didn’t they look at the surf and the giant immovable objects and realize how easily the ocean could bash their puny brains out?! But if there was anything Jungkook had learned about tourists and teenagers both, it was that they had poor respect for the ocean. You had to respect the ocean. She was older and more powerful than you. Unconcerned with whether you lived or died. Sexy of her but annoying for lifeguards.

He only had two pool cleans on his schedule today, which meant an easier afternoon before band practice tonight, so he should still have energy to fight with Taro about how they shouldn’t add more 00s rock to their regular set just because they’d managed to come in second place in that competition. The first pool was an easy job, and the second was the one he both looked forward to and dreaded the most: The Birches.

This time last week, he’d chickened out dropping the envelope off, only to go back and do it later that day when the guilt ate at him. Now he wished he’d waited until the end of the season in two weeks so he wouldn’t have to see them again for a while; while most people kept their heated pools running year-round here, the Birches closed theirs at the end of summer so he was almost free of them. He’d never understood why. It was heated and this was southern Cali. He’d be swimming in that baby 365 days a year.

But he’d dropped the envelope and sprinted away and today would be the first opportunity to see if the bomb he dropped had done any damage. It gave him a nervous twitch, because what if he’d done the wrong thing? What if they knew it was him?

What if he was going to get arrested as soon as he showed up?!

Still he went, because he wasn’t someone to turn away from an unpleasant task, no matter how scary. And he needed to get paid. Maybe nobody would be there again, like last week…

The garage was closed but he glimpsed three cars through the windows after he’d parked in the driveway –Mr. Birch hated that. Well Jungkook hated douchebags who cheated on their wives. And walking further to get to the pool than he had to after lifeguarding all morning.

The missing car was Mr. Birch’s. Jungkook felt his skin tingle but ignored it, uninterested in nerves. Instead he prepared himself to knock on the back door, per usual, so Mrs. Birch would know he was here and unfortunately not accidentally walk out in revealing clothing–

Except Mrs. Birch was in the pool. In the pool. Jungkook froze like a bank burglar just inside the pool gate as her faked-blonde head surfaced from the water. Her eyes remained closed as she pushed her hair back, water droplets spraying as she panted for breath, emphasizing her collarbones and long neck.

Fuck. Fuck! Red alert!

Jungkook just stared as she grabbed the edge of the pool to hold herself steady as she swiped the water from her face. She looked tired, out of breath, like she’d been swimming hard for a while, not just lounging around for a dip.

Is she the swimmer then? Jungkook didn’t find it surprising at all to learn this about her but it made him happy, like this somehow confirmed she was the good person he’d always thought she was. Of course she was the swimmer. They both loved the water. And damn did she look good doing it, even just bobbing there as she pushed her hair back from her shoulders.

White bathing suit.

Jesus Christ, Jungkook was going to hit the deck. His brain attempted to save him without thinking through the consequences: he cleared his throat. It was rude. It was out of line. It wasn’t at all what he’d meant to do but someone had pulled the fire alarm in his head and that was the result.

Mrs. Birch spun quickly to face him, clearly started, and gasped, “Oh! Shit!”

The fantasy that hadn’t even begun to spin yet –that she had done this on purpose for him– died in its cradle.

“I’m so sorry, is it– are you early?” she asked. Her bare face looked at him with such surprise and alarm that he actually felt too bad to ogle her the way he wanted to.

“Ah, um… I don’t… think so,” he mumbled. Actually he was later than usual but he didn’t want to argue with her. “I can come back later?” He couldn’t, it was already late afternoon. Well, he could. He would! If she wanted him to.

“No no, I’m sorry, let me get out of your way.”

He watched with a semi he’d deny to his grave as she gracefully swam to the ladder and pulled herself up like a fucking centerfold. It was a one piece, he realized with no disappointment because the cutouts at the side showed smooth waist and water streamed down her bare shoulderblades and exposed back– but fuck he couldn’t tell if the tattoo was there or not, the bottom rose too high over her ass. She almost caught him staring when she turned to wrap the towel she’d set on the lounge chair, except his brain had leapt immediately to nipple patrol–

Fuck! He didn’t get a good look as his brain caught up with his stare and he immediately averted his eyes, leaving her to cover herself with the towel not under his blown-out gaze. Shit! He was around hot chicks in bathings suits all the time! Why now did his brain decide to run away….

“I completely lost track of time. Um…” She paused and then gestured to the pool with one hand as if to tell him to carry on, then fled into the house.

Jungkook just stood there for a moment. He’d never seen Mrs. Birch –or anyone for that matter– in the pool before, though legend said they used it, at least for parties sometimes. He felt a sense of pride now to know she really did, and that she looked so damn good in it. He sauntered to the edge to survey his work and felt his satisfaction grow further at the confirmation that he kept this pool in good shape. It looked great right now. He wouldn’t have to do much today, clean the filters, maybe nothing else. Now he felt bad to have chased her off. He could have done that while she kept swimming. He wouldn’t mind.

Damn. He was going to be thinking about this for a long time.

White bathing suit, huh?

He grabbed the outdoor trash and some gloves to get to work on the filters, in the hopes he could wrap it up quickly and she could slide right back in. But just as he was finishing up, she reappeared from the house in loose lounge clothes with her hair piled up on top of her head and a bamboo tray with his drink and snacks in her hands.

“You didn’t have to,” he called to her, “I won’t be long today. Pool looks good. Are you using it a lot lately?”

Her head tilted as she set the tray down and asked, “Yes, I’ve been out here every day lately. You can tell?”

It was mostly a lie as he shrugged, “If you’re swimming a lot, the motion sends the detritus into the filters. If no one’s swimming, it sits on top.” Detritus. Haewon had used that word a couple weeks ago and he’d latched onto it because it sounded more professional than shit.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

She glanced at the pool and he got the feeling something was bothering her. Which made sense, considering the whole bomb on her doorstep thing, now that his head had cleared enough to remember that. For a moment he thought she knew it was him and was going to ask him about it. Of course she’d figure it out, she seemed smart, or he’d missed something obvious in covering his tracks…

“Well I won’t bother you while you finish.”

“You’re not a bother,” he assured her. Her smile was small and didn’t reach her eyes as she turned to go. He reached for the drink out of obligation, because really he didn’t have anything more to do but he couldn’t just leave the things she’d brought for him sitting there. It felt unappreciative. Also it was free.

She must be hot in the long-sleeved lounge top, although the fabric was thin. The shorts rode high, showing off her thighs as she headed back towards the house. He realized she could see his reflection in the windows and squinted to look out over the pool as if he was lost in thought when she suddenly stopped walking, hand on the door.

When she turned, arms sliding across to sort of hold herself, Jungkook felt that nervous flutter. Oh no. Busted staring at her ass. Caught. He felt like a kid again, he’d fucked up and it was time to get in trouble. He gave into the urgent need to have his hands full, so he popped open the bag of chips and shoveled a handful into his mouth as she came back.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer and less certain than he’d ever heard her before. Her whole body seemed to curl in on itself miserably, a far cry from the way she’d pushed up from the pool half an hour ago. “I just wanted to ask you– when you were here last time, did you happen to see anyone drop off something? On my front porch?”

His eyes went wide. He chomped down, accidentally getting his cheek too, and cursed as he pressed his finger to the outside of it. She just watched him and he realized with a burst of paranoia how fucking guilty he looked. He sucked at lying. He was terrible at lying, especially when he really was guilty as shit!

“Oh, um…” he fumbled, swallowing the Cheetos down and licking the residue off his finger. He licked his lips nervously, feeling like there was orange powder there too. “From back here? What package?” Playing stupid was better than outright lying, even if saying he’d seen someone else do it would probably do a better job of getting him out of the hot seat.

She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exactly where he’d just accidentally bitten on his own, and this similarity sent another wave of guilt rolling over him. He was lying to her. Fuck. Was he any better than Mr. Birch?! Shitothy Smirch? Eh, not his best work for taunting names….

“Ok, if you didn’t see anything… I just thought…” A cascade of emotions crossed her face, so raw and unpoised compared to the normally polite and neutral look she had with him, that Jungkook felt himself chipping further apart. She looked miserable, her face even redder than it had been just getting out of the pool. “Someone left an orange envelope for me,” she said. Fuck, were her eyes watering?!!? “I don’t know who but I’m trying to find out who so I can talk to them about it before–”

“It was me,” he blurted out as he suddenly realized how fucking scary this must be for her. “I left the envelope and I’m really sorry–”

He cut off as Mrs. Birch started to cry. Not quite burst into tears the way he might have expected, but she drew in a shaky breath and the tears he’d suspected managed to sneak out and she pressed her hands to her face.

The impulse to reach for her was hard to deny but he did. Obviously he couldn’t touch this woman he barely knew and whose marriage he’d just exposed as a sham. Plus he had Cheeto dust on his fingers and her clothes were light colored. He’d done enough already! It would be wrong! But it was hard to watch her upset and not comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again in desperation. “I swear I’m not trying be a dick or anything, I just thought you should know.”

He saw her draw air in like strength and push her hands back through her hair, fortifying herself, before demanding with a strong expression that didn’t match the tears on her cheek, “So you filmed it and left an anonymous package on my porch?”

He pulled back, defenses instantly activated. Fuck. Had he misjudged? Had she already known? Did she not care? Fuck! All his friends had told him not to get involved but he’d wanted to be this hero and now he’d really fucked himself.

“I, uh, I thought you should know,” he stammered again. “But maybe you wouldn’t want anyone else to know? I wasn’t going to blackmail him or anything. It’s private for you so I didn’t want to blow up your spot–”

“But obviously someone knew, the person who took the video! And I didn’t know who it was until I watched the security footage and then I thought it was you but–”

“Ah I thought I had my hat on low enough…” he mumbled.

She gave him a baffled look and pointed out, “You still look and walk like yourself– but I didn’t know if I was wrong or who was filming from inside my backyard and it was just really scary…” She trailed off and suddenly sat down on the lounge chair, threatening to upend the bamboo tray. She covered her face again. She took another of those deep bracing breaths.

“Shit, I’m really sorry scared you,” he said, sinking onto the second one to face her. “I just felt bad about it.”

“Why?! You weren’t fucking someone else in our–” She broke herself off and that spark of rage tossed him around another loop. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know her emotional processes, he didn’t know how she was handling this thing he’d opened her eyes too, and yet he felt unavoidably anchored here with her in this moment. How would he handle this in her shoes? He sure didn’t know, but he thought he’d do an even worse job of holding himself together.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you should know your husband is a fucking piece of shit.” The words rolled out without any hesitation because he was.

But it brought Mrs. Birch up short. She looked shocked, as if she somehow hadn’t realized what the video showed, and for a moment he forgot she had just referenced it and worried she hadn’t actually watched and he’d just done exactly what he had hoped to avoid: verbally give her this news. Instead she blinked slowly at him.

He meant to say sorry if that was too blunt but what actually came out was, “You deserve better than that.” He wasn’t actually sorry about that.

“Like you?”

“Wait, what?!” he cried, and jumped to his feet and stepped back so quickly he tripped on the lounger and fell onto his ass, tangled up in his own sandals. “No! I– what? I don’t have anything to do with this! I just–”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped this time, and covered her face again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I just…”

He’d scraped his palm in the fall; she didn’t seem to have even noticed that he did something so fucking clownish. Everything was all fucked up right now, she was all fucked up he understood now. That’s why she seemed all over the place.

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Look, I swear I don’t have any shitty motives.” He eased back onto the lounger, ignoring the burn of his hand. “I didn’t want to get involved with your personal business. I just couldn’t believe he’d do that to you and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you so I… but yeah, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she lowered her hands, eyes on her knees, “I would have believed you.”

“Damn.” He stopped himself from saying more. But damn that was a bad marriage if you’d believe your poolguy that your husband was banging someone else without even providing proof. She must have already known then that she’d married an asshole. That made him both very happy (Mrs. Birch is not like him!) and very sad for her (Mrs. Birch is married to someone who doesn’t deserve her!)

Watching her struggle to compose herself was distressing. He wished she would just cry it out hard. She’d feel better and he’d feel better too. Instead it was like watching her hurt herself further trying to keep the tears locked in when they so obviously wanted to come out.

“Who else did you show that video to?” she asked, gaze lifting to meet his. Her words sounded fiercer than her face looked, though her expression was still sort of scary. Sharp. “Or tell about… this?”

“No one,” he said, hoping a quick response would hide that it wasn’t entirely true. “Who would I tell? Why? I don’t even like knowing about it and I don’t know anyone who knows you–”

“You didn’t like upload it to the internet or– Reddit or something–”

“Fuck, no.” The goodwill he’d felt after she had said she’d have believed him evaporated and he felt as scummy as her cheating husband. “I don’t post that kind of shit anyway but even– I would never do that to you. Why would I do that–”

“I don’t know, for money, for clout, for revenge because Tim has been rude to you–”

Jungkook pushed to his feet as the heat rose in his cheeks, tingling up his neck. Apparently she’d believe him that her husband was cheating but not his own promise that he wasn’t blackmailing anyone. That she thought so lowly of him was the bullet through every last fantasy he’d harbored. No one had ever thought so badly of him as Mrs. Birch apparently did. Except maybe Mr. Birch.

“I said I wasn’t blackmailing,” Jungkook grumbled and turned to go because there was nothing else to say here.

Her hand suddenly on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks; she had leapt up and caught him quickly.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you wouldn’t be the first person who realized they could use something like this against my family.”

“Your family?” He made a face, ignoring the hiccup in his chest at her fingers curled against his arm. Just as quickly she let go. “I don’t know anything about your family and I don’t care. I just wanted to let you know in case you didn’t, that’s it.”

It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and continued, “And just think about it from my perspective. This is a private matter that I want to handle privately.”

“Well I’m not telling anyone,” he huffed, frustrated by the ongoing accusations.

“Do you still have the video? Will you delete it in front of me?”

“I already deleted it,” he said, but still fished out his phone. “You think I wanted that on my phone? It’s in my trash.”

“Yeah but will you permanently delete it? Please? I’m sorry I insulted you, I’m just… stressed right now.”

He paused, phone unlocked, showing a picture of the beach behind his apps. It softened the edge of her accusation to be reminded that the inciting incident of all of this was learning that her husband was cheating on her and the pool tech knew. That sucked. From her perspective, if he was in her shoes, he’d be hurt and distrustful too. She was just upset.

“I get it,” he told her. “No problem, you can watch me permanently delete it.” He opened up the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder on his phone as she leaned in to look, only for his stomach to cramp as he discovered just how many deleted selfies filled the rows ahead of the video. No dick pics thank fuck but still, it was embarrassing for her to see three rows of him posing in the bathroom without a shirt –he’d been trying to get a good one for his dating profile, ok?--, and he tried to cover them subtly with his fingers as he quickly tapped the video and then ‘Permanently Delete’ before it could begin to play. Too late did he realize how close she was standing, and that she smelled like something fresh and clean and mildly floral, and that her loose top had slid down her shoulder.

She pulled away and crossed her arms and nodded as she said, “Thank you.” She must have seen the photos but didn’t give any sign of it.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I mean for telling me, too. I know it’s… awkward. It’s easier to mind your own business when it’s something uncomfortable but I’m glad that I know now. So thank you for telling me but now please forget that you know.”

“Yeah of course, I don’t know anything. I hope you get to keep your house in the divorce and I’ll keep the pool looking great.” He meant it as a joke, kind of. He was serious about it, but he hoped the tone shift could free them both from this moment that was even beyond awkward. Sustained emotionality wore him out. Guarding the wharf was easier than this for sure.

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she said with utmost seriousness, with a shake of her head as if the idea was an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.

“Uh… what? How can you not know? The guy’s cheating on you, so leave his ass and wring him dry in the divorce,” he scoffed. As if he knew all about it! But it was just such an obvious next step, he couldn’t fathom she would do anything else. Good riddance to the fuckwad!

The effect on her was immediate: her hands dropped and she leaned away and got this scowl on her face that would have been sexy as hell if she hadn’t been almost defending that guy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“It’s not. Marriage is complicated, especially one like ours, it’s not always easy and–”

“Well he pissed on that marriage when he started fucking other people, didn’t he?”

“How dare you?” The sexiness evaporated from her glare as it hardened, as his own words caught up to him.

“Fuck, sorry, I know it’s not my business–” He held his hands up, choosing to apologize even though in his gut he wanted to say more. See? He was bad at this! He really just wanted to comfort her and instead he was fucking it up because he just couldn’t stand to hear her insist there was anything salvageable about that wad of snot.

“You’re right, it’s not. Thank you for telling me about what’s going on but that’s where your judgment ends. You don’t know anything about us or our life or–”

“You’re right, I don’t. I do know he’s a piece of shit though and that you deserve better.”

“And how many times have you been married, since you’re such an expert on marital conflict–”

“Zero times,” he answered. “But when I do get married, I sure won’t treat my wife the way that asshole treats you. You’ve been apologizing for his shit since I started cleaning your pool and I may be just the pool guy but I see all kinds of people and I know a piece of shit when I see one. Whatever you think is worth staying married to him for, you’re wrong. That’s all I know. So whatever, you can report me to my boss and I can have someone else come clean your pool now or whatever but yeah, you’re better off without him.”

“Well thank you for not leaving that sage wisdom in a cryptic package on my doorstep this time,” she snapped.

Jungkook knew he’d gone too far. He’d stepped completely into their bullshit. He couldn’t help it! He was typically slow to erupt but good luck once he got going, and he was going now, because this was the 21st century and a woman didn’t need to stay with a fucker like that for anything! And to stand there and have her possibly saying thanks for telling me but I’m going to stay with him, I don’t mind him treating me like gum on his shoe– how was he supposed to silently endorse that!

He was too worked up to think of anything to say back so he just said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. You deserve better.” It was a stupid thing to sound so angry saying. He’d think of something better int he shower later.

“Why, because I give you snacks while you clean our pool? You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am, JK. Maybe I did deserve this.”

“No way.”

“But you don’t know!”

If he hadn’t already known it in his gut, he knew it was true now, as the anger on her face wavered and he saw, just for one brief moment, raw grief. For one moment she had that look that in the movies makes a guy take up his sword and march off to war or whatever. She looked like a vulnerable, hurting person, not some rich caricature of a human, and that was exactly why he had stepped into this so far and couldn’t even regret it even if he knew he was making an ass of himself.

Just as quickly it was mostly gone, all except a soft, downward turn of her mouth. She had color on her lips which struck Jungkook as a little strange to have put on after the pool but he supposed Mrs. Birch wanted to always be put together. It was not a helpful train of thought –I could undo her combined with but she’s so sad right now and trying to hide it, isn’t she?-- and he looked away. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to this kind of dramatic exchange. He didn’t have stamina for it. Usually if he was fighting with a woman he just let her say her peace and then she left and that was the end, there were only a few times he really got into it.

But telling Mrs. Birch she ought to divorce her husband was worth it.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore,” she admitted with a deep, tired sigh. “I need to go. Thank you for bringing all of this to my attention, but please, forget everything.”

“You got it, boss,” he mumbled. It was awkward. He felt deflated now.

She wasn’t going to leave her husband. That’s what he’d just learned. And the idea that a good woman would stay with a shitty man just flooded him with despair. Romance was dead, marriage was a sham, and there was no justice. His dad had divorced his mom and there were even kids involved, so what did Mrs. Birch think made it so impossible for her? But he didn’t feel like saying that to her now. He felt like he’d just burned what minor threads had connected them, and maybe it had been necessary in order for her to know about her husband, but selfishly he wondered now if it had been worth it. If she wasn’t even going to leave him, maybe she wished Jungkook had just kept his mouth shut. Maybe he should have.

“JK, I…”

He’d never know what she was going to say because after a grimace rolled across her face, she turned and went inside. Leaving him to finish the job he was paid to do, cleaning the fucking pool.

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

#jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x oc #over the falls #jeon jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook au #poolboy jk #jungkook domestic fluff

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chronic-lesbian · 2 days

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Salam! I hope your day is going well!! Is it just me or is this site like, extremely islamophobic. I made the mistake of looking through the hijab tag and it made me feel so gross. I’m considering getting off of it entirely tbh but maybe i’d like it more if i strictly stayed away other blogs

Salam!!!! Oh I'm going to be honest this site is extremely islamophobic but loves to pretend like it's not. This is kind of gonna be a long reply so sorry for that fndjfjrjfb

The hijab/hijabi tag is mostly just blogs sexualizing people with hijabs, which is disgusting and gross and literally is going against the boundaries and wishes of hijabis, as we're literally covering up to avoid that, and as a hijabi thinking about it makes me feel sick.

A couple of years back I'd go through the blogs just to block and report but after I noticed those blogs never got deleted and that my reports seemed to not do anything I just gave up and stopped going to the tag to not upset myself.

Even general Islamophobia is very normalized, as it is also normal within society, and I've seen an uptick in open and loud islamophobia after Zionists got more bold on here, and some people seem to just parrot it without ever thinking about it.

I've personally even had whole arguments with people claiming that "people from developed countries (read: people who are more intelligent) are less religious" as if that's not the most racist and weird thing you could possibly say. Calling it out got me blocked and I was called a moron over it.

Or every time I make a post being angry about the hijab bans in West Europe and the islamophobia and racism that manifests itself through it, I get people telling me that islam is evil and i should go back to my country and that when I'm "back in my country" I'd be killed for being a lesbian so I should be grateful about European countries or whatever. Which is an insane thing to say and also. Again. Racist and Islamophobic but they fully think they're in the right.

It takes a lot of time tbh but I've found blogs that make it worth to stay on here, like other fellow lgbt Muslims or Muslims who are very open about being allies, and some non Muslim friends who do listen when I talk about these issues, would defend me if I ever needed it on here, and respect it when I correct them or point out something they've said is islamophobic and they change.

If you choose to stay, I'd really recommend trying to stay within the Tumblr you've curated for yourself and blocking people if they upset you. It's hard to not check what people are saying in certain tags sometimes and it's hard to just block and move on as well bc some of the things I've seen have been very upsetting, but in the end your mental health comes first and these people are not worth our time.

They're condescending bigots who are so filled with hatred and malice they seem to forget we as Muslims are a diverse group of people and we are human too. And sometimes said hatred can be crushingly casual, but finding people who understand and respect you will ultimately make this site and this experience so much better and tolerable.

In the end it is 100% your decision, and you should do what you think is the best for you, but if you want to vent about Islamophobia or just talk my inbox is always open!

#a little more than kin a little less than kind.txt

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hawkinshighdropout · 2 years

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Free Now.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (female) Reader

Summary: Your ex boyfriend Billy has been harassing you ever since the breakup and he just won't take "no" for an answer. You have spent every day since then alone and sad, Eddie intervenes in your time of need and it caused a lot of unwanted attention.

Warnings: No major warnings, a mention of a fight and some tense situations but nothing upsetting that I can recall? This is just angst/fluff content. Unless you count a couple of curse words as needing a warning? Idk, I haven’t written fanfics in like 8 years so I’m a little rusty…

Note/Request: Requested by anonymous. “Hey! This is what I have in mind. Sorry if it's too long. Your ex-boyfriend Billy doesn't appear to be handling the breakup well and won't leave you alone. Since many of the girls don't talk to you because they want to date your ex, and the boys don't approach you because they are terrified of Billy, you are kinda isolated at school. But Eddie, who had already seen how Billy handled you and still does, chooses to confront him on one of the many occasions he bothers you at school. They fight, you treat Eddie's bruises, he's cute and says he's always liked you and that you can sit with him and his friends, you kiss him and tell him you've always had a crush on him and you start seeing each other. Please, let me know if it's ok for you.”

Word Count: 2.1k

Send me prompts to write about!

You had liked Billy because he was different, he was a bad boy, he had some edge to him. You loved his hair, his confidence, the way he carried himself, everything about him. He was gorgeous, and everyone wanted him, yet he chose you. You were weak at the knees whenever you were around him, he had your heart in his hand and that wasn’t going to change… Until one day, it did.

You don’t remember exactly when it happened, but you remember the exact repulsive words that came out of his bitter, bigoted mouth.

He was picking you up from school one day and you were talking to Dustin and Lucas as you had caught the tail end of their conversation and it had made you laugh, they were quick to include you and you stood talking by the bike racks whilst waiting for Billy to arrive.

His loud music pumping through the speakers whilst his tires screeched from the speed of him hitting the breaks, coming to a sudden stop in front of you all.

“What the hell are you doing with these losers?” he scoffs out his window, sizing up the two kids with an unimpressed look on his face.

“Oh, behave. They’re sweet.” You defended them with a smile, that smile quickly fading as he clambered out of the car and marched over to you all.

Heated words were exchanged, Billy was throwing all kinds of slurs at the undeserving children and that outraged you. You could deal with his attitude normally, but homophobic and racist remarks? That was your limit, as it should be for any decent human being.

A harsh slap across his cheek stopped his tirade, you announce that it was over between you both as you refused to date a monster like him.

That was a couple of weeks ago now, and his words still haunted you. How can someone that pretty be that hideous underneath? A shiver ran up your spine whenever you thought back to the times you had spent with him, not wanting to recall anything positive about him, he didn’t deserve an ounce of your praise or time, he was dead to you.

Or so you wished. Billy had spent every waking moment since you broke up with him making your life hell, begging for you to take him back and making a big show of his feelings for you around anyone who was present to witness them. He was embarrassing himself, and he was certainly embarrassing you. It was causing such a scene on a daily basis that whilst you avoided him like the plague, everyone in school was giving you the same punishment.

Girls avoided you as they all fawned over your ex, perplexed by how you could be so “stupid” to break up with someone so “dreamy.” Guys walked the other way when you were nearby as they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Billy’s abuse for even looking at you. It was an isolating nightmare you were living.

You were sat outside of school on one of the benches reading a book whilst minding your own business, looking up with a disgusted look on your face as your ex plopped down on the seat beside you, arm strung around your waist as you immediately escape his grip.

“Go away, Billy.” You sigh, trying to focus on your book.

“Ah, c’mon, sweet thing. Don’t be like that…” his voice a pathetic attempt at sounding seductive and classy, in reality he just sounded like a jackass.

You weren’t alone, thank god. The other students were all littering across the grass and various benches as it was a surprisingly nice day in Hawkins, you just knew it was smarter to keep to yourself, which is why you picked the bench furthest away.

“Don’t touch me.” You groan, uncomfortable expression on your lips as you try and wriggle away from him once again, his hand gripping your hip as he keeps you flush to his chest.

“C’mon, baby. I miss you… What do you say we get outta here?” he purrs, pressing a light kiss against the weak spot behind your ear.

“Don’t touch me!” you scream out a little louder this time, grabbing the attention of everyone around you as you shove him away from your body.

“When did you become such a prude?!” he hisses, standing to his feet and wrapping his arms around your midsection whilst you are immediately trying to unwrap them from around yourself.

“I’m not a god damn prude, I just don’t want someone like you touching me, you’re pathetic and disgusting so let. Me. Go!” you squeal out, giving him a knee to the crotch whilst allows him to let go of you for a second in shock.

He stumbles for a second, taking a deep breath to regain his composure before he’s making advances towards you again, smug grin on his lips as he reached out for your backpack strap to stop you from getting far.

“Oh no you don’t!” called an annoyed noise from just over Billy’s shoulder, you see a fluffy haired guy hurrying up behind your ex, immediately wrapping his arms around Billy’s throat to give him a soft headlock to give you the time and space to distance yourself from Billy.

A wild elbow is thrown into the ribs of the stranger, causing him to hiss out as Billy wrangles out of his arms and faces him with pure venom in his voice, “Munson… I shoulda known it was you…” he smirks, dropping his weight a little so he could charge into the other guys’ chest and tackle him to the ground.

You back up a little, whole body shaking from the ordeal whilst a small crowd gathered to watch the two guys wrestling and battling one another, one trying to win your affection, the other trying to defend your honour.

You assume it’s going to be a battle of egos and testosterone, a relatively harmless wrestling match… That is until the brunette recoils his arm away, letting it smash forward to lay a hard blow to Billy’s noise, causing the blonde to scream out in agony.

“You little shithead!” Billy cries, nose already seeping with blood, grabbing the other guy by the throat, and shoving him down onto the ground as he pinned him and started laying wild blows to whatever he could hit. Fist colliding with his jaw, chest, anything he could find, the two guys were just exchanging hands and you were frozen in your spot in pure fear.

“Eddie! Stop! He’s not worth it!” you hear Dustin scream from the edge of the crowd, it took this long for you to realise the tatted stranger was Eddie Munson.

Dustin and his small group of friends rushed over and did all that they could to intervene, pulling Eddie off of Billy once the two men had swapped positions and it was Billy’s turn to get his ass beat. They were both red in the face, covered in blood and cursing at one another, it was hard to believe that this tall stranger was being held back by these children…

Looking up, you saw that a girl you knew as Max had come to the aid of Billy. Well, she had stood in front of him and held out her arms so neither of the older guys could step closer without her getting hurt first.

“What is the matter with you two?!” she screamed, full of rage.

“That little freak hit me!” he defends, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You deserve it for not learning what the word no means, dick!” Eddie retorted, sitting on the bench you were previously on whilst nursing his aching jaw.

“What do you care anyway? Ever heard of minding your damn business?!” Billy sounded like he was getting riled up again as Eddie was also seething.

“Keep your hands to yourself and I’ll mind my business.” Eddie growled.

It took a little more begging from either side’s friends before the two boys split up and went in opposite directions, Max shooting the group an apologetic look before she forced Billy to head back to his car. You watched as Dustin and Lucas tried their best to clear Eddie up, but he kept lightly shoving them away, not wanting any help.

It took all the power and strength you could muster up before you had the guts to step over to Eddie, body shaking with nerves as you clear your throat.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble, Eddie tilting his head up to look at you, eyes sympathetic as he noticed that it was you he was speaking with.

“Don’t even mention it. You okay?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice, you sheepishly nod your head as you knew the worst was over for now.

“I… We should get you cleaned up…” you suggest, referring to how his outfit was smothered in dirt marks, hands a little bruised and bloody as his lip was split a little from the punch he received earlier.

He stood without much argument, you slide your backpack up onto one shoulder and slowly guide him back into the school. He was limping and gasping every now and again from the pain, you ease him into the girls’ bathroom so he can at first wash his hands.

Eddie groans in annoyance at the sight of himself in the mirror, turning away from it once his hands were dry and clean. You frown, grabbing a tissue and soaking it in warm water, waiting for permission before you lightly dabbed the blood from his lip.

He winced, you apologised. It went on like this for a couple minutes before you had him clear from blood and a grateful smile on his face, throwing away the bloody towels in favour of brushing his hair from his face. You were extra delicate with him as you knew he was tender.

“I’m Y/N by the way…” you offer, filling the silence.

“I know. I’ve had a crush on you since first grade.” He shrugs with a half-hearted smile, leaning back against the sink whilst you washed your own hands to be clean of the dirt. “I’m Eddie.”

“Yeah right!” you snort, to which he interrupts.

“I am, it says so on my birth certificate!” a smug grin on his face.

“Not that part!” you snort a laugh, smacking him playfully on the chest before gasping and apologising immediately as you’d hit one of his fresh bruises, you stroke your fingers over his chest soothingly, “I meant ‘yeah right’ to the crush part, butthead.”

“I know, I just love teasing you. But I’m being serious about that part, I always had a crush on you, broke my heart when you started dating that asshat.” He mumbled.

“Broke more than just your heart, hm?” you gesture to his fractured hand, causing the both of you to let out laugh that fades to a soft sigh.

“It was worth it…” he smiled, brushing your hair behind your ears, and admiring the way that you blush under his touch. “Besides, I could treat you way better than he ever could—”

“Not much competition there!” you laugh, interrupting him.

“Shut up, I was trying to be romantic!” he groans with a fake huff.

“Sorry, sorry, go ahead!” you promise to be quiet, beaming up at him as he took a second to appreciate how beautiful you were when you smiled.

“Do you think you’d ever wanna go out some time? Like… when I’m healed and not all gross and bloody?” a hopeful look in his eye.

“You could never be gross, even when you’re bloody,” you reassure him, stroking his cheek with your thumb, making sure to be extra delicate with his sore face, “but I would really like that…”

“Wait, really?!” he sounds like an excited child.

“Of course! You’re handsome, funny, protective, you’re willing to break your damn hand just to defend someone you hardly know, you’re already miles above anyone else…” you shake your head with a smile.

“I’m stoked, that’s awesome!” he’s grinning, only wincing slightly when his lip splits open again and causes a little blood to drip out from his smiling.

“Jesus Christ, not again!” you groan, grabbing another clean tissue to repeat the process of cleaning his busted lip, not wanting to get the crimson stains on his—well, his muddy white shirt, you suppose.

“Get used to the next 50 years of taking care of me,” he snorts a laugh.

“If you’re lucky,” you tease, your voice soft and playful.

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saturdaynightghostclub · 9 months

Text

Highway Hypnosis

Chapter 5: Heimlich

I think there’s a reason people tend to gravitate toward Edgar Allan Poe when they’re about thirteen years old. They feel seen by him, and their feeling is correct; he was a grown man with the emotional maturity of a middle schooler. The entitlement, the shallowly wounded sense of self, the absolute certainty that one day the world would pay for its slights against his pride; sure, he gets you. The man spent his entire life wishing he was somewhere he wasn’t. It’s a sentiment that gets less relatable with every choice you make–every time you exert control over something in your life, you get further and further from Poe’s ideology. Damn, though. It’s awfully tempting to backslide.

I’m technically working, though I’m really just leaning against the counter at the cafe, flipping through an anthology of Poe’s short fiction and poetry that I found between the refrigerator and the kitchen sink. I haven’t read anything of his since I was nineteen and forced to read The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket for a class I had no interest in. The novel itself made as good a case as any against Poe, flipping arbitrarily between long, drawn-out descriptions of boat mechanics and comparatively more exciting, though often wildly racist, battle sequences. The titular character was clearly a stand-in for Poe himself: a blatant masochist who hurls himself bodily into the jaws of danger for the chance to live out his fantasy of American masculinity. If the plot was even ten percent less contrived, I think Poe might have had a massive hit on his hands; as it stands though, Pym has become a veritable punching bag for bored and hypercritical undergrads. Not even the men of Evergreen, rugged and adventure-starved as they are, can be bothered to pick up a copy.

I can’t be quite as harsh on Poe’s short stories. The one I’m reading now, William Wilson, is actually scaring the shit out of me–I can never say so out loud, just in case Poe’s ghost is somewhere lurking in search of validation, but there’s just something about the whispering doppelganger that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It reminds me of the summers I spent here, when Len and I used to have “Fright Nights” once a week; he’d draw the curtains and douse the lamps, lighting candles and lanterns so that the shadows of his various oddities were cast high on the walls, and he’d let me pick an episode of the X-Files to watch from his VHS box set. Of all the episodes I saw (discounting the one about the family of inbreeders who kept their mother under the bed–that one he wouldn’t let me watch until I was in college with my own Netflix account), there was one that simultaneously thrilled and terrified me in almost exactly the same way as William Wilson. The agents are in Florida for some kind of conference and get waylaid tracking down an invisible forest creature that’s evolved past humanity–tall and thin, running at unbelievable speeds on the balls of its feet, blending in with the foliage. It’s uncanny and exciting, like looking in a mirror and seeing something not quite human looking back at you. Like William Wilson.

It occurs to me briefly, as I sift absently through the pages, that I have become the type of person one might read about in these stories, or watch on a Fright Night. Isolated, alone, hapless. The perfect victim, in a lot of ways. It’s getting harder to feel sorry for myself, though, and harder still when I compare my life to Edgar Allan Poe’s. Things just happened to him, or at least that’s what he thought. I’m making choices; I’m choosing to work, and when I’m not working I’m choosing to go out and explore, or decorate my home, or sit on my front porch just because. I am making the active decision to enjoy myself, a thought that would have done us out of a lot of classic horror if it had ever crossed Poe’s mind. I am trying, so goddamned hard.

“You in there?” is the familiar question that breaks me from my reverie, and I lower the book to look up into the face of Jasper Stevens, partially obscured by his tousled hair as he tilts his head down to meet my eyes. I’m somewhere in there, thanks for asking.

“What can I get you?” I ask, straightening with a smile as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Something cold,” he replies, “dealer’s choice.”

“Arnold Palmer, coming up,” I say, accepting his payment before he chooses a seat at the bar. He watches me work with the same quiet, contemplative gaze he uses on me when I visit the general store. There’s not much actual work to be done; ice, lemonade, and tea. I fold my arms on the bar and lean forward after setting the drink down, and he mirrors my posture. “So,” I say, “what’s new?”

He cocks his head to the side. “You, still.”

“I guess that’s true,” I say. It’s been two days since the last time I saw Jasper, when he crushed my soul back into my body.

Jasper takes a thoughtful sip of his drink before speaking again. “Would I be correct in assuming,” he says, “that your shift ends in approximately three minutes?”

I check my watch. He’s right, of course. “You would,” I reply, “Janie should be back any minute now.”

“Good. Come to the river with me?”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, for the first time knowing that I’m saying yes to a whole person, knowing that I’m a whole person myself.

Jasper smiles–really, I mean it–and says: “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in here before.”

#highway hypnosis #sometimes tumblr keeps my indents and sometimes she doesn’t #writers on tumblr #every time i talk in the tags i think of that old post that’s like ‘in the tags sis’ do you know the one I mean #anyway this chapter brought to you by my ex and his favorite coffee shop hope you’re thriving man #Spotify

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cyarsk52-20 · 6 months

Text

Fuck Pardi. Fuck both of them bitch ass Canadians. Fuck Da Baby. Fuck her old management. Fuck her fake ass flip floppin ass ex best friend. And FUCK EVERY LAST PERSON WHO AINT BELIEVE HER.

Megan baby we got yo back always. FUCK EM

GIF by realitytvgifs

kcyars189

22m ago

fuck them ! Defending meg ain’t enough I need a weapon, like I need a gun

lives need to be taken

I got a feeling who’s lives need to be taken rn

#i need a gun and knife to defend her #Megan Thee Stallion #toe tags for every motherfucker who hurt Megan!!!!!!!#This whole case had me changing my opinions and views(at least for the moment)#celebrating the police and the system #being xenophobic towards Canadian people #posting stories with reader plus white celebrities with fluffy or smutty material #nearly being racist towards black men #saying that some of them nigcels deserved to be another hashtag #and backing the death penalty.#megan thee stallion #i’m not sad for her #i’m outraged #i’m just glad she’s in a better place now #those people can speak for themselves they know who they are #and they can go straight to hell #they will pay for their crimes #for sucking that abusers meat #Instagram #As always a loud and sincere fuck you to everyone who has doubted her and supported that Canadian cuntery who must not be named #She went through unnecessary trauma for two years #That’s unforgivable #Next level fuckery #That that type of ish that would lead to an episode of snapped or deadly women #once again #🖕🏿daystar Peterson #annnnn boom #just like that #may all who come against black women rot #Don’t fuck with black women

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someonetaughtmetowrite · 5 months

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“The Wish” - A Review

I adore this movie. It honored Disney’s century long legacy while also representing its future so beautifully. It was funny and clever. There were double meanings in almost everything. There were so many references and hidden Mickeys - surely an Easter egg hunters favorite. The music was loud and fun and strong and beautiful. All walks of life were tastefully represented, and shown living in harmony. And its story - and the characters who make it - is nothing short of magical.

At its heart, it’s a story that makes you want to believe in magic AND the magic you can create. You can make your dreams come true. It’s also a story about sticking up for what’s right, even if that challenges everything you know. It’s about being young and unsure but still so full of hope that things can be better - and finding the strength to make it better.

Asha means “wish” in Sanskrit!

CHRIS PINE I LOVE YOU

The gang reflecting the Seven Dwarves (the movie after this one, for those watching things in cinematic universe order)

QUEEN AMAYA I LOVE YOU

Sabino is the most precious thing in the world. I, too, would betray my king and put myself and my loved ones at risk to make him happy.

The art is very calming? I don’t know how to express it but I do love it. Wonderful color pallet, to say the least.

Asha is so happy to be a fairy godmother I can’t she’s too cute

BABY TALKING MUSHROOM I LOVE YOU (but seriously I’m cackling every time a creature comes to life cause like what??)

“This Wish Reprise” made me cry (yes I cry easily but that’s besides the point). Everyone joining together to make one wish come true? That’s a beautiful message right there.

Now to address the, frankly, appalling criticism that this movie has faced since the very beginning. I’m not even going to touch the racist comments, but I see you and I hate you. First of all, to belittle somebody’s art to such an extent just because you, with your two performing arts credits from chorus in high school, know so much better is just disheartening to say the very, VERY least. Second of all, y’all are so cynical sounding for a bunch of people obsessing over movies where maidens are put under sleeping curses, turned into frogs, and assisted by fairy godmothers and talking animals. Grow down; remember what it was like to be a child and you were just happy to get to go to the movies and watch a movie about magic wands and dreams coming true and you never spewed out nasty words after that? Go back to that.

Anyways, this movie is my new favorite movie and I will be making it a part of my identity. PLEASE GO WATCH IT IT’S FANTASTIC

#disneys wish #disney animation #the wish #wish #movie review #wish movie #disney #bringontheweirdworld #blurb

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random-nerd-posts · 8 months

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I wrote a snippet for my story instead of homework!

But I'm going to do a read more line cause Ambrosius is trans, and his mom, who I named after J.K. Rowling, dead names him and is super racist. Todd also pops up and is still super punchable, but he's actually kind of good in this bit because Joanne is so much worse.

Ambrosius sat in the hallway of the hospital, his skin felt hot. His vision got blurry as he tried to blink away the tears. Ballister has to go do something at work, so he couldn’t be at the checkup. Nimona, well, the hospital was not the nicest to her. So, he called his dad, and his mom found out.

His mom, Joanne Goldenloin found out her trans son was pregnant at the appointment.

“So, when will Naomi be due?” Joanne asked, her step peppy. Her husband, Henry, just looked at Ambrosius with sad eyes. “I know she’s going through a long phase, but honestly, all kids do.”

“He, Joanne, is sitting right there. Maybe ask Ambrosius when his due date will be. And for Gloreth’s sake, will you show him some respect?” Henry asked.

“Dad,” Ambrosius muttered, “it’s fine. I’m just ready for the results and going home.”

“Oh, but Naomi,” Ambrosius flinched at the loud high pitched perky noise his mother made whenever she purposely dead named him in public, like she was correcting his bad behavior. “Wouldn’t it be better if you and your child were raised in a proper household? And away from that commoner?”

“Mom,” Ambrosius glared. “That ‘commoner’ is the father of my baby. And the father’s name is Ballister. I love him, and he respects me. He gets things that are difficult, you are making things worse right now, more than anything else.”

“Well,” Joanne beamed. “We will just have to raise the commoner out of the baby, won’t we?”

“Oh my, just, just stop talking,” Ambrosius hissed as he turned and stormed away. He ignores his mom’s “But Naomi,” screams until he runs face first into someone. Looking up did little to ease his anger.

“Ambrosius, or should I say,” Todd smirked.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Thoddius,” Ambrosius hissed, breathing in shakily as his eyes water more. “I can only deal with so many bigoted assholes in a day.”

“I honestly heard your mom from down the hall while the doctor was checking out my cast,” Todd responded. His posture eased up a bit seeing the red rage radiating from a slightly pudgy Ambrosius. “And seeing you this angry, once, was enough in school, so this is my ticket to get you out of here so I don’t become a punching bag because of someone else. Besides, your mom likes to hear me talk.”

“I’ve noticed,” Ambrosius mutters, wiping his eyes. “Also, why do you still have the cast?”

“Uh, cause you fucked it up good, dude. Anyway, go before you lose your moment to escape,” Todd waved. “Joanne, hey, how’s the lady of the hour?”

Ambrosius gathered his breath, feeling a hand rubbing on his back, looking to the left slightly, he saw his dad. “I’m sorry, I tried to leave her home, but she insisted. Let's get you some fresh air, son.”

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fuck-customers · 11 months

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💋this one is a fuck coworkers, my first one ever!

My coworker has been pissing me tf off lately bc anything I say, no matter how normal or neutral, she’ll turn around and respond with “you’re so negative!!” Like I admit, I am prone to negativity, which is why I come on here to rant and get it out, but to scold me liek a child for doing something you also do yourself, all the time, is beyond fucking ridiculous.

Some context: my coworkers lost the keys the other day when I was off work (willing to bet it was actually this girl in particular bc she’s lost them before, the leaders just never found out), and because of that, fhe leaders are now making us keep the keys and security magnet on our person rather than keeping them in our cabinet in the store. This is incredibly frustrating bc of that stupid magnet, it sticks to EVERYTHING. The keys that are attached to that magnet are used to open metal drawers, so it’s a giant pain in the ass to do our pulls when you’re having to pry the industrial grade magnet off of the drawer every. Fucking. Time. Our checkout counter is also made of metal, and if you stand too close to it, the magnet sticks, and it’s so strong that if you try just stepping away, it will actually pull that cabinet open. When the leader who made this decision was talking to me, I explained to him how frustrating this was going to be. He mentioned that me and the other girl I talked about above are the only ones who complained about it. So clearly I’m not the only “negative Nancy” here.

Cut to a few days later, I’m standing at the counter with this coworker. A lady walks in past us, I greet her, she ignores me/doesn’t hear me. I just say “oh well, she ain’t hear,” and go back to my stuff at the counter. Then my keys stick to the cabinet again and I’m like “damn it.” Neither of these things did I say angry or annoyed. Literally just talking like normal. But after I got my keys unstuck, my coworker was like “you’re just so much! Can you just chill? You’re ruining the vibe etc etc” and I’m just over here like where the hell is this coming from, it’s not even that deep lol??? And like I said earlier, as far as hating our jobs goes, she’s the only other person that can compete with me, so don’t bitch at me for “being negative” when you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself.

She’s also just kind of shit in general. Doesn’t get much done, doesn’t try. Which is fine you do you fuck capitalism, but again don’t tell me all I do is sit here and mope when I’m busting my ass getting shit done. At least I can complain AND perform well, meanwhile you only do the former. Like when she first started me and my other coworker rly didn’t like her bc she’d never clear out her carts and then just pawn them off on us.

She’s also kind of racist towards me? Idek. I’m mixed Mexican and white, and I’m like medium complexioned. I’m the only one on our team that doesn’t speak Spanish though. And she always says rude things ti me about me being white. I mentioned one time “damn my cheeks look rly red rn” and this bitch literally goes “did you forget you’re WHITE?” Like yes actually thanks for that MUCH needed reminder. I’m also not JUST white but thanks for trying to put me down over my ethnicity, something I literally cannot control. She’s also teased me for not speaking Spanish, again calling me white. Like girl, not every Mexican family passes down Spanish to their kids. That is a real thing that happens and all of this bs you keep gearing toward me just makes you sound ignorant af. And anytime we have a Spanish speaking or Mexican customer that is rude to us (not mildly, I’m talking absurdly fucking rude) she tries to minimize my feelings by saying “oh that’s just Mexican culture, you wouldn’t understand.” Actually bitch I do understand. Mexican culture means sometimes you can be a little loud, blunt, or direct, but never straight up rude. And either way, someone’s culture is not an excuse to be a total dick to someone, I don’t care where you come from. And I’m also smart enough to know when someone is being blunt because they’re not from here vs when they’re just being an asshole. Just tired of this girl trying to put me down and minimize me in every which way. This job is hard enough and our clientele are already awful, so I don’t need any extra grief from the people that are literally supposed to be on my team.

@staff I HATE the new text editor!

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saturrnss · 10 months

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—-HOBIE’S CANON EVENT (headcanon)—-

Warnings: violent death, daddy issues, mentions of police brutality and underaged drinking, mentions of police corruption

A/n: I’m pulling this straight out of my ass cheeks so do with that what you will. And also I know London banned guns but I’m the writer so I can do anything

😁

.hobie never likes to talk about his canon event, only Miguel and Gwen know about it, and he will literally kill anyone who tries to bring it up.

•••

Lieutenant James Campbell was the worst cop on the London police force.

He was mean, cruel and nasty.

So many innocent people went to jail for a long time because of him and so many abusers and Murderers got out because their lawyers paid him.

He didn’t care for any of the citizens, he was so bad that it was the start of hobie’s long term hatred for cops

But some how, someway. His father- Officer Daniel brown was friends with him.

“I’ve known him since kindergarten, he's not be that bad”

His father used to say whenever hobie tried to bring his cruelty up or make side eye him when he was around.

Hobie never understood it. “How could you let that pig around here!?” “Not even turn ‘em in?!” He thought to himself.

One day, a couple of months after he got bit, he got into an argument which he started after he cussed James out which made him storm off.

“I can believe you defend that fucking clown!!” He yelled. “Clam down“ his father softly but sternly replied with. “I’m not gonna calm down! You willingly jerk those guys off like they’re gonna see you any differently!’’

“I don’t know those people that you hang out with, but I can see the number they did on you” Daniel says, fixing his tie at the kitchen counter and putting his police hat on.

“Don’t bring them into this!’’ He said being even more enraged at the fact that he was basically being ignored.

His father stepped away from the counter and went toward the door of the apartment, but hobie still wasn’t gonna let it go.

“No wonder mom left you, I wouldn’t wanna be with such a cunt either.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“….what did you say?” Daniel said without moving a muscle.

And before hobie could repeat it again his father jumped at him from across the room, forcing him against the wall by his shirt.

“Speak on her again in that way! Speak!!!” He yelled right in his face, spit getting all over.

And for the first time, he didn’t comply.

He would never admit it, but that was the first time, in years, that he felt like he pushed-too far.

His father dropped him and walked away from him, sucking his anger back into him and straightening himself up.

The sheer fear, that hobie felt a few moments ago is a feeling that he would never feel again in his lifetime.

He dad takes a deep breath. “I never wanted to be a cop.” Hobie looks up, confused as to what his father was saying.

“When I was younger me and my mates used to get into a lot of trouble with them,” he says. "but as I grew up, I realized that making a difference isn't just running around, high and confused, it’s about working inside the system. It might not look like it but I have to be very, careful with the power I have now."

He gets his jacket. "One less racist cop at a time." he stops again. "I'm not mad at you, Hobart. You're a young black trying to figure it all out," "but there's just some ways you go about it."

He opens the door and looks back one final time.

"I love you."

Hobie doesn't say anything.

He tries to wait for a couple of seconds, hobie usually breaks the silence with a response but this time he doesn't.

".....I just hope you know that."

He leaves.

And hobie is left there, silent.

•••

Later that night, he got shit-faced with his mates Pic and Scabs at this random punk bar they found. The screeching sound of guitars and the audience screaming was so loud that you could barely hear yourself think.

The smell was awful too but you got used to it after a while.

He stumbled out of the place after a couple of hours and puked into the nearest trash can he could find. Everything was so fuzzy, the longest he could go walking in a straight line was a few seconds at most.

But then, while he was trying to find some essence of soberness, blinking red and blue emergency trucks dart passed him on the street- police cars follow.

He usually wouldn't care about things like that but something in his mind was telling him.

"Follow''

So he did.

Part of him still wishes he never listened.

He didn’t really need to run that far since the scene was happening a couple feet away from him. When he got there it was so many people in front of him but it didn’t bother him that much since he was tall as hell.

The body was already covered so he only saw the blood continuing to leak out of it but it was already enough to make his stomach drop.

Something about it was -off- to him, so he pushed through the crowd, and lifted the cover.

And there it was.

His dad laying face first on the ground, multiple stab wounds to his head, brain matter splattered. Hobie was frozen, his face was like stone, he tried to hold back his tears but before he knew it they were filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, making his vision blurry even more-so.

“Sir.” A random policeman says, he doesn’t hear. “Sir,” he snaps his fingers in hobie’s face, this time the punk notices him but he just doesn’t care.

“Sir I’m gonna have to ask you to leav-“ the officer says and starts to put his hand on hobie’s shoulder but he instinctively pushes him away. Sooner or later more cops circle around him as he refuses to move away from the body. But before a fight could break out, voice comes out from behind them.

“He’s with me.” The officers stop and stand up straight to hobie’s confusion. He turned around to see the devil himself- lieutenant James, in all his prick-ish glory.

“I think you all should leave.” He says, forcing the officers to leave you alone, still side eyeing the punk while walking away.

For a short while there was silence, just a moment of taking in what was now reality, then James decided to break the ice. “..Sorry..son” he puts his hand on his back which makes both of them cringe to the heaviest degree.

They watch the paramedics put his body on a stretcher and lift him up onto the back of the ambulance but even that wasn’t an emotional moment due to thick air of tension created.

He runs off to get inside the vehicle before they close the door, escaping the awkwardness and into an equally dreadful but weirdly calming environment.

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity, all he could do was hold his dad’s hand, watching the paramedics trying to save a lost cause.

They got to the Emergency room and rolled the officer away, leaving hobie there, alone, with only himself to comfort.

Later, while hobie was sitting in a waiting chair, trying to distract himself with whatever crappy American sitcom they aired on late night television, a doctor in a long white coat and round glasses approached him.

“You must be Officer Brown’s son.” The doctor says “what of it?” Hobie tries to say in his usual dismissive tone but this time, he can’t bring himself to commit fully.

“…..he was too far gone.” Hobie closes his eyes and sighs, he thought he mentally prepared for it but hearing someone say it was like it cemented itself into reality.

“If you would like,” the doctor said with pity in their voice. “You could come to the room to have one last moment with him.” He hesitated at first but then picked himself up walked to the room with the doctor.

When he entered the room it was a cold and sterile atmosphere, felt like one of those liminal spaces. The colors of the room were almost sickly, everything about it wasn’t right, the only thing that grounded it in reality was the body laying flat in the middle of the room.

The doctor quietly excused themself out of the room and shut the door. Hobie walked to the side of the body and practically just dropped on his father- and cried.

Cried hard. It almost felt like he was a 5 year old again, sitting on his dad’s lap wailing because he broke his arm, but this time he doesn’t feel a warm embrace, the reassurance and comfort of a parental figure.

All he feels is just a cold hand. Lifelessness.

No one to tell him it was gonna be all okay.

Nothing was there anymore.

He barley even remembers the funeral, all he can recount is James, his supposed “best friend” looking bored and laughing up a storm with people.

The case for his dad closed after about 3 months no matter how hard Hobie fought for it to say open.

He couldn’t keep up with rent so he got evicted.

The only option was to stay with his absent mom or James, and no way in hell was that happening.

He found an abandoned warehouse and decorated it to his liking. It’s not like he was depressed or anything but everything just went- numb for a little while.

On rare occasions he felt emotion, but it went away after a few seconds.

Life felt more like a really bad fever dream now.

If you could even call it a dream.

•••

Months after that, he was sleeping on a friend’s couch when the friend, Rob frantically woke him.

“Wake the fuck up Hobbs!!” Rob quietly yells in a panic. “What?!” He says, sitting up dazed. Rob paces back and forth.

"Scabs got merked!!" hobie's mind didn't register it at first. “…huh?" “Scab’s is dead mate!” It still doesn’t compute. “….what?” He says in an uncharacteristically dumbfounded tone. “Do I have to spell it out for you dumbass he is not with us anymore!!”

Then when it finally clicks, the only words he can muster out is

“....who killed him?" he asks but Rob didn't hear it, still pacing and talking to himself. It took hobie to get up and grab Rob by his jacket for him to finally get a straight answer."

"Who. Killed. Him?" He says slowly. "That cunt lieutenant said he had drugs on him when he doesn't even drink. One thing lead to another and he got shot."

His face drops.

At first, he was even more lost, and confused. He sat back down and put his hand into his palms. Then, it was like someone poured boiling water one him to wake up.

For the first time, in a long time, an emotion finally stuck with him.

Rage.

Blind. Rage.

He quickly went to get his guitar and his suit and quickly went toward the door. “Where yo-” hobie had already shut the door before his friend could finish the question.

He changed on the rooftop of the building and swung into the night.

He didn’t even know where that cunt was, all he knew was that he had to do something. Something that would make him feel the pain and numbness that he felt.

And the only way he knew how to do that was by Revenge.

He finally got to the lieutenant’s house- a modest, 2-bedroom house. He didn't have any children, he got divorced rather quickly before he could.

He got in through the window. It was pitch black and he couldn't feel anyone in the house so he walked up to the front door and waited.

He saw certificates and police gear all over the wall along with pictures of him on duty and all he could feel was disgust.

He could feel the sweat dripping down his face in his mask, palms sore from holding the guitar. His suit only made him feel claustrophobic but he didn’t care.

He heard a car pull up. His eyes immediately shot to the window, seeing a black Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway. He looks straight at the door, feeling him get out of the car and inch closer and closer to the door.

His heart was beating through his chest and was mentally psyching himself up. The sound of keys jingling just outside the door made him close his eyes.

“Once I deal with him,” he thought. “It will be all over with.”

The doorknob turned and he saw him. From that point on, It was like an out-of-body experience. He didn’t feel like himself- Something came over him.

Maybe it was a greater force than himself, maybe it was all the grief he somehow suppressed it was a mystery.

He doesn’t remember much of the fight, only the fact that James had a broken nose and was losing severely. But when he “got back” to his body, the scene was a horror show.

Blood was all over him, his guitar was broken and James' head looked like it had been split in two. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

It was so bad that two teeth were stuck in the bottom of his guitar. He quickly left the scene after he heard a car coming. He got on the roof of Rob’s flat and hid his blood soaked suit and guitar.

He knew he couldn’t leave it there for long or else it would stain. He opened the door to the apartment and immediately went to take a shower, and to be honest, he felt immensely better.

He was mostly glad that nobody would be bothered by him anymore, that there was one less burden on earth, but he couldn’t brush off the fact that something was watching him- Something familiar.

It was the most publicized murder case in the city. The brutality of it all intrigued people the most. “What could have the heroic police officer James Campbell, done to have deserved this fate?”

It made him sick, the blatant rewriting of history. Especially the fact that the authority force had so much more emotion for him than his dad.

That’s when he got his blue latter laces. His friends and the rest of the scene noticed but didn’t say anything nor cared. He got investigated for a bit but due to lack of evidence he was let go.

He took a break from being spider-man for a while, opting to spend time with his friends and to sort of heal. He cleaned his suit and fixed his guitar, trying to live a normal life after what he did.

He still gets night terrors once in a while, it gets mixed in with dreams of his dad. He makes jokes about his laces, smiling at Miles’s dad when he catches him staring at his shoes.

Definitely doesn't feel bad about that son of a bitches death, doesn't have a reason to care anyway. But there's still a pinch of- guilt in the back of his mind.

Festering. If he didn't say what he said, if he just caved in and told him that he loved him. Then he would still be alive.

A/N: idk y'all I'm not feeling this one 😔 also hey y'all

Wattpad: sevenstarcigs

Tiktok: sevenstarwp

#marvel #mcu #marvel headcanons #spiderverse spoilers #into the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie my beloved #hobie headcanons #spider punk #atsv hobie #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman: across the spiderverse

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