For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
Peter lay on his bed, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. An hour had passed since Diana had disappeared into her room, and he hadn't moved a muscle. His body was a warzone of conflicting signals. One half of him was buzzing with a high-frequency current of pure, unadulterated lust. The image of her hardened nipples pressing against her sweater was burned onto the back of his eyelids. The other half was in a state of catastrophic, system-wide panic.
He had almost kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her more than he'd ever wanted anything. And he was almost certain she'd wanted it too. That look in her eyes was not the look of someone about to politely decline.
So why hadn't he?
The answer was a familiar, unwelcome friend: fear. Fear of screwing it up. Fear of misreading the signs. Fear that if he crossed that line, the comfortable, wonderful friendship they'd built would shatter into a million awkward pieces. And losing that felt infinitely worse than never knowing what her lips tasted like.
He groaned, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. He was an idiot. A coward. He could face down men with cybernetic tentacles, but he couldn't kiss the girl across the hall. The Parker Luck was a cruel, ironic mistress.
The next two days were a masterclass in exquisite torture. They saw each other, of course. They were neighbors. They had classes. But the easy dynamic was gone, replaced by a palpable, humming tension. Every "good morning" in the hallway felt loaded. Every shared glance across the lecture hall held the weight of their unspoken moment. They were like two magnets forced to orbit each other, the pull growing stronger, the polarity undeniable.
The breaking point came on a Tuesday night. Peter was in his room, trying and failing to concentrate on a problem set, when a soft knock came at his door. It wasn't May's knock. It was firm. Deliberate.
He opened the door, and his breath caught in his throat. It was Diana. She was wearing simple pajamas—a plain t-shirt and soft-looking cotton pants—and her hair was down, falling in a dark, wavy cascade over her shoulders. She looked comfortable, casual, and more beautiful than he had ever seen her.
"Can I come in?" she asked, her voice low.
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course," he stammered, stepping back to let her pass. His room was a mess, as usual, and he suddenly felt a desperate urge to apologize for its existence.
She didn't seem to notice the clutter. She walked to the center of the small room and turned to face him, her expression serious. She wasn't here to study.
"This is not working, Peter," she said, her voice direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
His stomach plummeted. This was it. The "let's just be friends" speech. The end of everything. "What's not working?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"The space between us," she stated, as if it were an observable scientific fact. "The tension. It is a distraction. To my studies. To my duties. And, I suspect, to yours."
He couldn't argue with that. He could barely remember his own name when she was around.
"When we are near each other," she continued, her gaze unwavering, "there is a... physical awareness. A pull. I am not wrong in this assessment, am I?"
Peter could only shake his head, his throat too tight to form words.
"Good," she said, a small nod to herself. "Clarity is important. I value our friendship, Peter. More than I can properly explain. It is a rare thing. And I do not wish to risk it on the complexities of a mortal romantic courtship, for which I am... unsuited."
The word "unsuited" stung, but he was too transfixed to process it.
"However," she went on, taking a small step closer. The air in the room seemed to crackle. "The physical component between us is also a truth. And to ignore a truth is illogical. It is… wasteful."
Peter's brain was struggling to keep up. Where was this going?
"I am proposing a new system," she said, and he almost laughed at her choice of words. "One where we can address this... physical truth. Separately from our friendship. An arrangement. To satisfy a mutual need without the complications that would endanger what we already have."
He stared at her, his mind a blank slate. He was pretty sure she had just proposed, in the most logical, terrifyingly articulate way possible, that they become friends with benefits.
"You mean..." he started, his voice cracking. "...you want to... sleep with me?"
A faint blush colored her cheeks, the first sign of vulnerability he'd seen. "That is the bluntest interpretation, yes. But it is not inaccurate."
He just stared, speechless. Diana Prince, the goddess from 4J, wanted to have sex with him. The thought was so staggering, so far outside the realm of what his anxiety-ridden brain considered possible, that it almost didn't feel real.
"Peter?" she asked, her voice softer now, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "Did I misread this? If I have overstepped..."
That look, that tiny crack in her confident facade, was what finally jolted him back to life. He saw the risk she was taking, the trust she was placing in him. And in that moment, all the fear, all the anxiety, was burned away by a surge of pure, overwhelming desire.
He closed the distance between them in two quick strides. He didn't say yes. He didn't need to. He showed her.
His hands came up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking the sharp line of her jaw. She was real. She was here. He leaned in and finally, finally, closed the gap between them.
The kiss was not gentle. It was a collision. A desperate, hungry release of weeks of pent-up tension and unspoken want. It was the taste of her, the softness of her lips, the sheer, solid reality of her in his arms. Her hands came up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer, and a low, guttural sound rumbled in her chest.
It wasn't a question anymore. It was an answer.
He broke the kiss, both of them breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.
"So, is that a yes?" she whispered, a breathless, teasing smile on her lips.
Peter let out a shaky laugh, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy. "Yeah, Diana," he said, before leaning in to kiss her again, deeper this time. "That's a yes."