#Big thanks to my teacher and my girlfriend for giving me helpful advice and encouragement (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[microwaved-hampter]

Insides (2024)

Oil, acrylics and found objects

A series of 3 ecocritical paintings inspired by pictures of birds taken by Chris Jordan

This is a big project I've been working on for the past 4 months in my Visual Arts class!! If you live in Finland (specifically near Helsinki) you are welcome to go and see these paintings (and some more artworks) displayed on the windows of the Ministry of Environment :3

[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 6 - Date

I did it!! I know I’m pretty late, but hey, Eon said submissions still count so I’m still going lol (thank you for the patience). This one’s a bit on the longer side and contains switching POVs, but it’s pretty easy to follow as each first line introduces either Makoto or Kyoko by name. I’ve been agonizing over it for awhile now, so hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it. If not, at least take some pleasure in the fact that I had to edit out some of my use of the word “smile” from the original draft, for I used the word 13 separate times. This is why we draft, kids. Anyway, no warnings to issue this time around.

I’ll be back to bring you Festival sometime soon. Thanks so much for your support and attention!

______________

“I’m excited for our big night tonight, Kyoko!”

Her partner’s words echoed like a horrid earworm in her mind as she jotted down her most recent case notes. They’d been vibrating around in her head since the moment he uttered them; they plagued her all throughout the car ride to the Hope’s Peak building. Even now, while he was off dealing with a misbehaving teacher case, she could not get his statement to stop pestering her. She had to be the worst girlfriend in the world to have forgotten something so important as to be classified as “big night”. Simply imagining the disappointment on Makoto’s face if she confessed to not knowing the significance of the date made her heart drop. She was never the best at remembering anniversaries and birthdays without much of a reminder; her schedule was far too busy to help her recall every significant thing. What was peculiar about this situation was that Kyoko didn’t even have the benefit of being able to check her schedule. Normally, she marked off all of their important relationship milestones on their calendar so she wouldn’t forget… but for whatever reason, today’s date wasn’t in there. No red ink scribbling circles around sloppily scrawled words, no little star stickers that her boyfriend got her into the habit of using. Just a dotting of blue ink to tell her that she had a dentist appointment the following day. Her past self refused to even give an inkling of a hint.

 Still, if there was one thing that Kyoko knew best about herself, it was that she was stubborn. A stubborn detective, at that! There was no way that she would allow herself to be bested by a simple mystery such as this. If she didn’t have any clues of her own to work with, she’d just have to start off somewhere else. Of course, what else was better to start off with than witnesses? That was how Aoi came into the picture.

Well, it would be, if she weren’t several minutes late. The tardiness was admittedly a bit strange given that she had a free period, but it wasn’t super out of character for Aoi. She tended to get so excited and ahead of herself that sometimes she would almost miss work meetings entirely. Kyoko couldn’t count the number of times on both hands that she’d come rushing in to a staff meeting over twenty minutes late. All she hoped was that she would get there sooner than Makoto would get back. To have him catch them in the middle of this discussion could be mortifying. She feared she might break his heart if she let him know that she forgot. A quick and easy bit of advice or clues from Aoi would really be ideal.

 She massaged her temples with one hand and leaned over to poke her phone awake with the other. 9:03 A.M. Aoi was officially thirteen minutes late, and in all honesty, Kyoko wondered if she should start to worry. What if Makoto had intercepted her or something? Or was she perhaps the troublesome teacher he intended to deal with? The latter seemed unlikely, but she didn’t want to rule out any possibilities. Ugh, all of this would be so much easier if she knew what Makoto had been alluding to in the first place! If it hadn’t been for Aoi arriving almost as if she were on cue, Kyoko might have given into her desire to bash her head into the desk.

 “Sorry I’m late, Kyoko!” The swimmer’s voice was just as chipper as ever, and her forehead just as sweaty. Did her morning jog run long or something? “I got a little caught up. You know how it is.”

 Kyoko sighed, doing her best to pretend to be less disgruntled than she actually was. “Indeed, I do. Still, I should thank you for coming on such short notice.”

 Aoi’s ponytail swung back and forth as she strutted to the seat across from Kyoko and plopped herself down; the manner of it all reminded her of being told to sit more lady-like by her grandfather. She tried not to scowl at the thought of him. They had been through a bit of a rough patch lately. “Of course! Anything to help one of my favourite girls.”

 The taller woman laughed softly, reaching up to brush some stray hands of hair away from her face. “I am quite glad to hear you say that, Asahina-san. You see, I have something to ask you.”

 Almost instantly, Aoi folded her arms across her chest. She turned her nose up at the detective jokingly. “You may not ask me anything unless you call me by first name. You know that’s okay!”

 She let out a half-amused sigh and did her best not to show her pleasure on her face. “Aoi, if I ask you something, do you promise not to tell Makoto that I asked?”

 Aoi’s eyes widened; her body suddenly shot forward with interest. Normally, one might have reacted with a bit of apprehension over being asked to keep a secret from their friend’s paramour, but Aoi seemed to relish it. The smile that spread across her face all but proved it. Figures. Aoi probably expected to be asked about what he was thinking of doing for their next date night or something cute like that. “Ooh! What’s going on? What do you wanna know?”

 In any other situation, there would be lots Kyoko could ask. After all, Aoi was their one friend who was not only mutual, but a confidant. She wouldn’t be able to get the same information out of Yasuhiro and Toko that she could out of Aoi, and it was vice versa for Makoto. This wasn’t to say that she begged Aoi to regularly break Makoto’s trust, or that he did anything of that sort to her – it was just that the swimmer could tend to point either of them in the right direction. When Makoto struggled to ask Kyoko for a birthday present, he would tell Aoi and eventually she would tell Kyoko what he wanted. When Kyoko was too embarrassed to confess to her feelings to Makoto’s face, she would tell Aoi and she would encourage Makoto to move in the right direction to get her to open up. It definitely wasn’t a system of broken trust, but a little one that worked for them and kept things moving to their advantage. They could function without Aoi if they wanted to, but she enjoyed helping them along. She was perhaps the person most invested in their relationship apart from themselves… and maybe Komaru.

 Kyoko drummed her fingers on the desk absent-mindedly; somehow she found she would rather watch herself move than make eye contact with her friend. It must have something to do with her embarrassment over the whole not knowing the day thing, she assumed. “Aoi… do you know why today is significant in mine and Makoto’s relationship?”

 Aoi blinked, pressing a finger to her lower lip. “Ummm… no. Why is it significant? Did I miss something?”

 “It is not a rhetorical question. I am genuinely asking. Makoto asked me if I was excited for our special night this morning, and I haven’t the faintest idea what he meant.”

 “Oh! Uhhh…” the cogs in her mind seemed to turn slowly; her gaze darting around the room as if she would somehow find the answer there. It was such an artificial-looking thinking process, yet Kyoko found herself holding her breath as she awaited a response. “I… I dunno. He didn’t mention anything to me about tonight being special.”

 Kyoko let out a groan, throwing her head into her hands. “What am I going to do?! He’s expecting a perfect night, and I don’t have anything planned.”

 “Maybe… um…” she paused for but a second, “Throw on some lingerie and hope for the best?”

 The detective scowled at her. “Very funny. You know he and I aren’t… physically intimate.”

 “Aww, c’mon Kyoko-chan, don’t feel bad,” Aoi said, her arm darting across the desk to pry at Kyoko’s wrist, “I’m sure there’s gotta be someone who knows what Makoto’s all excited about.”

 “What if there isn’t? The last thing I want to do is hurt Makoto’s feelings. I cannot afford to make such a careless mistake.”

 “Well how do you know that it was you who made the mistake? Maybe he forgot what day it is, not you!”

 Somehow, that didn’t lift Kyoko’s spirits. Mostly because of how improbable it sounded. While Makoto tended to forget more trivial matters like whose turn it was to do the dishes, he never forgot important dates. Especially not when it came to their relationship. Based on what Aoi told her, he bought most of his anniversary and birthday gifts for her over three weeks in advance. Preparedness when it came to their relationship seemed to be his strong suit, quite unlike her. Without anything to show for the upcoming night, she would look like a selfish girlfriend.

 “While I respect that you are trying to cheer me up, Asahina-san, I seriously doubt that that’s the case. You know just as well as I do how diligent he is when it comes to our relationship,” her fingers somehow worked their way back to her temples, massaging them almost aggressively, “If anyone has forgotten anything, it is most certainly me.”

 Aoi’s eyes glittered with sympathy as she watched her friend, still trying to hold her arm. Kyoko imagined that she was mostly trying to pat her forearm, but had somehow settled for gripping her awkwardly. It was less comforting and more like she’d been caught in a trap; nevertheless, she decided to appreciate the sentiment behind it. “Please don’t be too hard on yourself, Kyoko-chan. Naegi-kun wouldn’t want you to do that, even if you forgot. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s super sweet like that!”

 That is true, Kyoko thought to herself. If anything, Makoto would find it within himself to understand her perspective. Work had been incredibly busy for both of them lately, and they did have a lot of other friendship and familial obligations to attend to… Would it truly be so awful for her to have forgotten one measly little date? She couldn’t have the answer to that question. Nobody could. There were only so many circumstances in which that things could work out for her, and it all depended on how much value the date held. If it was something huge, like an anniversary, she would never forgive herself – even if Makoto did. However, should it have been something small, she figured that they would be able to brush it off and at least try to have a good time. Value determined everything, and of course it was on the list of things she didn’t know. All she had as a clue was that the date was special somehow.

 “I appreciate the optimism, but I just don’t think I can go through the rest of today without knowing what’s going on.” She sighed, doing her best to avoid pouting like a spoiled child. While there were several things that she would confess to hating, not knowing important things hung at the top. Probably somewhere around number two on her list of hated things, coming just below coriander. Blegh. “Is there anything else I can do to figure this out?”

 Aoi shrugged, still wearing that same signature smile of hers. “Why not try asking some of the others? Komaru-chan should be in helping Fukawa-san, maybe you could ask her for help. She’s his little sister, after all!” The swimmer tapped her chin. “I guess you could try Togami-kun, too, but I don’t know how nice he would be about it. I know you guys kind of like to rib each other.”

 ‘Like to rib each other’ was a sugar coating of the truth, but Kyoko supposed it encapsulated their relationship nonetheless. Byakuya was admittedly the last person she wanted to go to for help with this Makoto situation, yet the difficulty of it all gave her little choice in the matter. In fact, she considered it to be completely unavoidable.

 “I suppose you’re right there. I’ll see about talking to Komaru-chan about it first. If that fails,” one of her hands curled into a fist, “I will bite the bullet and confront Byakuya.”

 Aoi giggled softly, finally releasing Kyoko’s arm and hopping to her feet. “That’s the spirit! Now, was that all you needed, Boss?”

 For her friend’s sake, Kyoko did her best to grin a little. Though she herself hadn’t been able to help, Aoi provided her own information that would make this anxiety-inducing task much easier. Kyoko surely owed her for that. “Yes. Sorry to call you into my office for so little, but I was getting restless. Is there any way I can compensate you for your troubles?”

 Aoi waved it off. “Don’t be silly, Kyoko-chan! We’re friends, I’m here to help you any time you need it,” amusement tugged at her lips, “That being said, though… if you have to compensate me… mind buying me a donut on your next coffee run?”

 Kyoko shook her head, trying not to show how much Aoi’s request made her laugh. Of course she’d ask for a donut. “That is… doable, yes. I presume you want the Boston Kreme again?”

 The swimmer’s face lit up with glee, her hands clapping together excitedly. “Oh god, please. I haven’t had one in soooo long. They’re so yummy.”

 Kyoko could agree with that statement. It hadn’t been until her time in Hope’s Peak that she first tried a Boston Kreme donut, but she found it to be quite a hit on her tastebuds. Definitely on her list of favourites, and Aoi’s too. The girl once joked that that was how she knew that they would be good friends. “Sounds good to me. You are dismissed, Aoi-chan. Have a good day.”

 “Thanks, Kyoko-chan! You too!”

 With that, the swimmer spun on her heel and wandered towards the door, sending herself off with a wave to her friend before closing the door behind her. God, what relief Aoi’s presence had been. Of course, Kyoko could only notice it now that she had left. Stress settled back into her the moment she departed, bearing down on her like a blue whale. Though she knew she still had the hope of Komaru and Byakuya’s assistance, doubt sprouted in her heart. What if they couldn’t help her? Oh, what would she do?

 She squeezed her eyes shut. The absolute last thing she wanted to think about the way Makoto would look when she eventually confessed to being clueless. His normally chipper expression would still remain on his face, but she would see it falter. The corners of his mouth would twitch down for a split second, the joy weakening without actually ever having to disappear. His shoulders would slump, and he would move to push a hand through his hair to make things seem more casual. He would want to show her that he was more relaxed about it than he actually was. She would be able to see the hurt cloud his eyes.

 Ugh. She didn’t want to think about that. Stealing one last long look at her paperwork, she sighed and pushed herself to her feet. If she was going to avoid the terrible, horrible fate of disappointing her boyfriend, she had better get a move on in talking to Komaru and Byakuya. The guidance committee’s not-as-problematic-as-stated student situation would have to wait.

 __________

 Makoto would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about his fiancée.

 He hadn’t been, when he’d woken up this morning. In fact, he’d been pretty excited to spend the day with her. The two of them planned this day for ages. From the blankets they would snuggle up with to the snacks they would eat, the couple made sure everything had its place. Makoto even promised her he’d make his famous popcorn-chocolate-marshmallow bars. It was tradition for their Dead Trial marathons, after all. Kyoko tended to say that it wouldn’t have felt like a proper marathon without them. Good snacks and cozy blankets were the best thing for a day inside watching their favourite show. All they had to do was get through their long day of work. That was how it seemed at the time, anyway. Now, Makoto didn’t feel so sure.

  Kyoko’s morning demeanour changed within an instant; the moment he made mention of the day caught her in a loop of seeming unease. Her expression crumpled, falling back into its neutrality. How funny, so many years ago he would never have seen her iron mask as a sign of worry. Just a sign of Kyoko being Kyoko. These days, though, he knew better than to think that. Any emotion she gave him would be better than the cold, hard stare. The mask hid fear, the face showed affection.

  His fingers tapped on the surface of the window ledge; eyes fixed intently on the world outside. He could see two students, both girls, hanging out around the fountain on what he presumed to be a date. One with black hair and the other with brown, grinning and giggling together. The dark-haired girl was trying to feed the other a spicy tuna roll, but it dropped from her chopsticks and bounced into the fountain. Her date threw her head back laughing at how clumsy the dark-haired girl was, forcing her face to turn rose-red. At any other time, he was sure he would have felt happy for them. Even if they were skipping class to have quality time, sometimes good romance was worth that kind of thing.

 He couldn’t deny that the sight of the girls made him think of Kyoko. At the end of everything, he hoped that the two of them would have a night like those two students were having. His heart ached at the image of the two of them sitting there, a foot apart and not touching at all. No blankets draped over them, no snacks placed in their laps, no emotion as they tried to enjoy their show. He would reach for his partner’s hand but she would scarcely respond, just staring almost blankly at the screen in front of her. Her leg would be bouncing up and down like a basketball, but when he asked, she would deny being nervous. It would be a torturous, awful night; neither of them would enjoy it the way they thought they would. Then, the two of them would creep off to bed, and she would sleep with her back turned to him. She wouldn’t even try to cuddle up in his arms like she usually did.

 His gaze flicked down to his watch. 11:49, it read. His little sister was running late. She had sent him a text asking to meet him outside of classroom 8-B, and somehow had not made a point of being there on time herself. He didn’t think it was too much to expect, given that she had been the one to ask that they meet in the first place. In some sense, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was quite like Komaru to be flaky. Makoto loved his younger sister, he really did, but sometimes the girl was just trouble. 

 He let out a sigh as he watched the girls pluck the roll out of the fountain’s water, the sunlight beaming brightly on their smiling faces. He leaned on his hand, silently wishing he could be as carefree as they were. The headmaster was leagues away from being a high schooler, but when relationship communication issues like this happened, he felt like he was right back in it again. At the end of the day, he just hoped nothing was seriously wrong with Kyoko. He hated to think that something might be wrong, and she just hadn’t had the courage to tell him.

 “Hey! Makoto!”

 Finally. Komaru’s voice snapped him out of his worries as he turned his head to look at her coming down the hall. She held a stack of paper in her arms, and her hands were brutally smudged with ink. A pair of glasses rested on her nose. Figures. She asked him to meet her, and then got caught up in drawing her manga. That was so like her. Still, he pushed down his annoyance, cracking a small smile as he made eye contact with his baby sister.

 “Hey, Komaru,” he greeted, his hands resting on his hips, “I see you’re running late, as always.”

 Komaru’s tongue found its way out of her mouth before her words did. “I see you’re still a jerk, as always,” she huffed, quickly putting her flustered run into a full stop, “Thank you for coming, though.”

 “You’re more than welcome. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?” 

 Komaru’s fingers reached up to scratch at her cheek, the smile playing at her lips turning sheepish. Whatever she would say next, he knew he probably would not like it. It was all a sign that Komaru had either already made or intended to make trouble. Trouble that he would likely have to clean up, he might add. 

 “Okay, so like… I know you’ve told me before that you really don’t want me to meddle in your relationship with Kyoko-” 

 Makoto closed his eyes, the tips of his fingers digging in to his hips in an attempt to quell his frustration. “I don’t, and I really hope you’re about to tell me that you haven’t.”

The smile grew even more sheepish, prompting Makoto to groan. His palm hit his forehead before he even thought to make the motion himself. Why did she have to do this to him? Why couldn’t she just pretend to vomit every time they kissed, like a normal younger sister? 

 “Okay so like… I didn’t totally ruin anything or tell her anything bad, but she did come to me asking for advice on something,” Komaru confessed, shrugging her shoulders, “And I thought you should know that she’s worried about something.”

 “Do you know what it is?” He asked immediately, his eyes widening a bit. God, he hoped she came to tell him what Kyoko was worried about. It would make things so much easier for them. After all, if Kyoko wouldn’t tell him why she was acting weird, and he didn’t know, then Komaru would be the only bridge between the two of them. It wasn’t like Aoi had had anything to say when he’d initially asked her. He was running out of options.

 Komaru tittered awkwardly, clutching her inked papers a little more tightly. One could only hope that the ink was not fresh, lest it stain her suit jacket. It was pressed far too close to her body. “You see, about that, I do, but-”

 He blinked quickly, taking a few steps forward. Whatever it was, he needed to know, and he needed to know it well. “What is it?”

 She actually cringed as she spoke, wincing like she thought that her brother was going to smack her. “She told me I wasn’t allowed to tell you.”

 He hit the window ledge with his hand, wincing as pain shot through it. Maybe not the best idea, but dammit, he was pissed off. How could she give him a flicker of hope, only to take it away a minute later? That was just too cruel. “Ugh! Why would you say anything if you knew I wasn’t supposed to know?”

 “I came to give you a hint to point you in the right direction,” she whined, stomping her foot like it was their mother scolding her rather than him, “She said I can’t tell you, but I figured you had a right to know.” 

 He swallowed thickly, the crease between his brows suddenly feeling as deep as a chasm. His body fell strangely still as he waited for Komaru’s eventual reveal. Though she couldn’t tell him much, there had to be something more to this. Surely, he could ask just a few more questions. “Is it something bad?”

 “Well, uh… hard to say. It’s nothing really bad, but it might hurt your feelings a bit.”

  To no one’s surprise, that comment did little to soothe his persisting anxieties. If anything, it planted a seed of dread in his stomach. Not only was his partner clearly hiding something from him, she was now confirmed to be hiding something that would hurt his feelings if he knew. He bit his lip. 

 “How badly, do you think?” His voice left so much weaker than usual; the ache of what Kyoko hid from him this morning digging into his soul. If he thought his palms were sweaty before, they had gained some wetness now. “Like, do you think she’s gonna dump me?”

 Komaru shook her head frantically. “Definitely not. In fact, part of the reason why she’s upset is because she likes you so much. That’s the way it seemed, anyway.”

 Makoto sighed, his hand reaching to fidget with his watch. “Are you sure you can’t just tell me what it is and I’ll pretend to be surprised if she brings it up?” 

 “Sorry, big bro. No can do. We both know you’re an awful actor.” A twinge of a smirk pricked her face. “Still, try not to worry too much. I think you’ll be able to get it out of her eventually, she’s just… worried about it, that’s all. I didn’t want you to get too in over your head if you could avoid it.”

 “I appreciate that, Komaru. Thank you.” He paused. “Is there anything else you needed to tell me?”

 “Just that you’re a nerd.”

 “Oh, come on! What are you, eleven?”

 “Yeah, an eleven out of ten!” She exclaimed with a snort, incredibly pleased with what was at best a mediocre joke.

 Makoto rolled his eyes at his little sister. “It’s like you never left middle school.”

 __________

 Kyoko wanted nothing more than to repeatedly slam her head into a wall. Step one of her plan, gathering witnesses, had proven itself to be a total bust. Not only had she completely missed with Komaru, who had no idea what she was talking about — but she’d been screwed over with Byakuya, too. He had given her no clear answers about the date, and the jerk actually laughed at her when she confessed to not knowing the significance. Clearly, he wanted to take it as some victory to hold over her head. Proof of his superiority to her or something like that. She honestly didn’t know, and could not bring herself to care. She’d left his office in more than a bit of a huff, plunking herself down in her own chair much too harshly when she finally got back to her own space. It left her with a deep hole of disappointment in her stomach; one that she suppressed all afternoon as she plunged back into her paperwork. She stayed that way until lunchtime, the pit only serving to worsen when her boyfriend wandered in.

 “Come on, honey, you really should break for lunch,” Makoto said, shooting her that same smile that won the heart of anyone who saw it, “You’ve been at that work all day.”

 Her head flicked up from the boring scribblings of ink, eyes wide with surprise. Sure, she’d half-noticed that he entered the room, but hearing him was a completely different thing. Normally his voice and presence comforted her; it took weight off her shoulders on hard days. Today, on the other hand, made hearing it seem like she was getting smacked in the face with a tennis racket — vaguely painful and incredibly startling.

 “Oh,” she paused, blinking at him as if she didn’t quite believe he was real, “That time already, huh?”

 The luckster nodded cheerfully, glancing down at the two sleek black boxes he held in his arms. They were stacked one on top of the other, one marked with her initials and the other with his. Same as always, made as sweetly as always. She swallowed hard. Why did he have to be the perfect partner? It would certainly make her mess-ups a little easier to deal with if he would just screw up every once in a while. If he could just screw up majorly on something for once, it would be helpful.

 “Yup! Can’t say I blame you for forgetting, though. You almost forgot your lunch at home. Pretty hard to remember to eat without your food, y’know?” 

 Yes, her forgetting made sense. After Makoto brought up the big night, she lost all focus. From then on, all energy went into agonizing over what she’d been unable to recall. She must have left her bento sitting right on the counter, where he always put it after finishing the preparations. 

  Kyoko smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess it must have slipped my mind, with our big night and all,” it was a ploy for hints, and she wondered if it would work, “I was reviewing our plans so much that I didn’t even think about grabbing it.”

 To this, Makoto laughed. “Ever diligent, as always. I hadn’t realized that you had so many plans for it! Actually, that reminds me of something.”

 “Oh?” Kyoko feigned innocence, batting her eyelashes at him. “What is it?”

 “I was thinking that it might be a good idea to head to the store after work to pick up some stuff for tonight.” 

 “What kind of stuff?” She asked, knowing that the question would give her a little more without entirely selling her out to him. Minute by minute, she inched closer to figuring this out, and she couldn’t be more thrilled. Relief would wash over her in no time, if he would just be a good witness and comply.

 “You know, the usual for the night.” He answered with a shrug, pulling his phone out of his pocket. She could only presume that he was verifying his list. Oh, how she longed to snatch the phone out of his hands and read it all for herself. It was almost as if he was deliberately being cryptic. Her boyfriend was a wiggly salamander trying to slip out of her grasp. “I was thinking about picking up some ice cream for dessert, but I don’t know what flavour I should get.”

 Aha! A clue! A cryptic one, but still, it was a clue nevertheless. She fought off the urge to scribble it down on the precious paperwork she’d been buried in only a moment prior. A good detective should be able to commit such a fact to memory with ease, her grandfather told her once. Though she hated thinking about him, she supposed that he was right, especially considering the person she was interrogating was standing right in front of her.  

 “I’m sure that I could help you with that,” she giggled, giddy from having found a small clue, “I promise not to get stuck between black cherry and pralines and cream like I did last time.” 

 Makoto shook his head, grinning over the memory. The two of them must have spent an half an hour in that grocery store, bouncing between the pros and cons of each flavour. They had only been intending to pick it up for a simple treat night, yet Kyoko found herself paralyzed by indecision. The two of them had had such a horribly long day at that point, and she’d just wanted to settle down with the perfect ice cream. God, she would kill to have a night like that again. If she ever figured out what their plans were for their special night, she didn’t know if she could enjoy them. After all, she’d expended so much energy on figuring out what the plans would be that she might run out of energy before they even got there. 

 “I think you probably could, yeah. I’ll meet you here after school; is three-thirtyish okay?” 

 She nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

 “Great! Now that that’s settled, though… wanna go have a picnic in the Garden of Statues?”

 That had been where they left it in the office that day, a spark of hope bursting in Kyoko’s chest. Though she hadn’t been able to solve her boyfriend’s surprisingly difficult riddle right then, she was confident that she would be hot on its trail soon. She spent most of the rest of the day scribbling away at her paperwork until he came to meet her at three thirty-two. The couple were a pair of beaming faces, the two of them wandering into the nearest pharmacy/retail store in search of whatever goodies Makoto had on his list. Not that Kyoko knew what they were. In all honesty, she was a little surprised that that was even the place he wanted to go. Still, she appreciated the tip-off that it was not the most formal evening the two of them had ever had. Every hint was one she grabbed at with fervour. At this point, she needed every one she could get. The sand in the hourglass was running low.

 Even with the confirmation of the lack of formality, everything he had put in their box didn’t make sense. Salted caramel popcorn, shampoo, sponges, marshmallows, hand soap, tortilla chips, razor blades, hiyoko cakes, headache pills, chocolate, medicinal tea blends, calbee shrimp snacks, pretzels, wasabi peas, tissues… None of these things made any sense together. Separate the snacks from the household items and then maybe one could get something, but Makoto stated specifically that he was buying for their evening. Kyoko pressed her lips together, wondering whether he was just feeling snackish or if he genuinely needed these things. Part of her itched to ask him, but she worried that even that might blow her cover. Instead, she chose to quietly follow behind him, watching him continue to pluck things off the shelves. 

 “Is there anything you want apart from the ice cream, Kiri?” Makoto questioned, not meeting her gaze as his hands found a bag of pizza potato chips. Her tongue stuck out at the thought of them. They were his favourite flavour of chips, but she couldn’t stand them. Of course, it didn’t bother him any. He didn’t have to share. “You can have whatever you want. Sky’s the limit tonight!” 

 She forced herself to grin half-heartedly; the muscles in her face protested from the extra effort it took. She hoped he didn’t notice her picking at the studs of her gloves like they were a scab she could remove. “I don’t think there’s anything else I want. You go ahead and pick out whatever you would like.”

 It was only then that he twisted his head to look back at her, one eyebrow raised. Uh-oh, she thought. Must have awoken suspicion in him. “Are you sure?” 

 She nodded. “Positive. Go right on ahead.” 

 A frown carved its way into his expression. For a moment he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, and then closed it just as promptly. He turned back towards their box and rearranged a few things as if nothing was wrong. That alone was enough to make her heart beat faster, and her breathing grow heavy. With how things were progressing, she risked actually managing to tear the silver studs from her gloves. 

 The silence persisted between the two of them for about a minute or so after Makoto rearranged their items; they wandered down a few more aisles before finally stopping in front of the frozen foods. Shivers shot through Kyoko as they walked. Unfortunately, her pencil skirt left her legs susceptible to the frigid air exuding off the freezers. She pushed herself up against him without thinking, hoping the proximity would allow her to thieve some of his warmth. 

 “Feeling a little chilly, Kyoko?” He snickered. 

 She nuzzled his shoulder. “It’s cold here.”

 He smirked slightly, pressing an awkward kiss to the side of her head. “I know, it is pretty cold. We should be out of here soon enough, though. Just as soon as you decide what ice cream you want…!”

 She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead.

 “You promised you’d help me pick.”

 The detective only grumbled in response, stopping to turn to look at her options through the glass door. Her eyes scanned the shelves for anything that grabbed her, not taking notice of the way her partner was watching her as she worked. Her lips pursed as she searched, wondering if any of them were going to jump out at her. Bubblegum, vanilla, strawberry, coconut almond, triple chocolate, green tea, lemon custard…

 “Kyoko, are you okay?”

 ____________________________

 Okay, Makoto gulped to himself. The million-dollar question is out. 

 She turned to look at him, her brows knitted in confusion at the question. Her eyes seemed to be scrutinizing his face, drinking in every last detail. How funny it was that the two of them were spending so much time observing each other to excessive degrees. “What do you mean?” 

 “You’ve been acting weird since this morning,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “It’s like you’ve been on and off perfectly normal, and then really frustrated. Some of the others noticed it at work today, too. Komaru was pretty worried about you. She said you asked to talk to her about something and seemed flustered. Said she couldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but that you were worried about hurting my feelings. Is something going on?”

 His partner cursed under her breath, and for a second he thought he’d heard his little sister’s name thrown somewhere in there. She began to nibble on her lip anxiously, her gaze darting away from him. He probably shouldn’t have brought up that he spoke to Komaru at all.

 “Did I do something, Kyoko?” 

 A balloon of pressure built inside of him as he stood there waiting for her response. His heartbeat danced in his throat. Whatever was wrong with his girlfriend, he was sure that they could manage to get through it, but only if they communicated. Otherwise, they risked never being able to find the right pieces to reach their happiness. Then where would they be?

 “It’s…” 

 “It’s…?” He parroted, reaching out to grab her hand. She moved it away from him almost like she was flinching, sending a pang of sadness through his heart. He really hoped this wasn’t going where Komaru said it wouldn’t.

 “It’s not something you did, Makoto, I just…”

 His hand moved to rest on her arm, at the very least. Though he didn’t feel he had the energy within him to do so, he cracked a small grin. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re a team. We’ve got to work through this stuff together, you know?” 

 Kyoko’s cheeks burned like brand-new Christmas lights, her gaze still fixated anywhere else but his face. Her words seemed to catch in her throat as she uttered them, somehow too embarrassed to speak her mind. “Do you promise me that you won’t be upset if I tell you the truth?” 

 Oh no. Fear settled into him faster than he thought possible. She wasn’t going to confess to having done something totally wild, was she? She hadn’t grown bored of him, or decided she’d be happier with a smarter, better-looking man? He didn’t think crushing his heart in public was anywhere within her character, but she’d surprised him before. Sweat dewed on his palms; he wiped it off on his work pants as best he could. “Uh… I’d like to think I could do that for you, yeah,” he replied, cringing at his anxiety showing in his voice, “So long as you didn’t like… I don’t know, plan to murder me and then decide last minute you didn’t want to go through with it.”

 It was a bit of a joke, but neither of them laughed. Not that it mattered. He got the feeling that the two of them just wanted her to spit out her confession already. 

 “It’s nothing like that, I just…” Kyoko’s hands curled into her fists, her eyes squeezing themselves shut. “Makoto, you were saying this morning that today is such a special day, and that you were really excited about what was going to happen… but I don’t remember why today is important.”

 The murmuring of “oh” came out of his mouth before he could process it, blinking slowly as the cogs turned in his mind. So his girlfriend wasn’t mad at him, nor was she leaving him for a superior specimen? She was just… feeling ashamed because of a mistake? Because she hadn’t remembered why the day was important? She crossed her arms over herself for protection, not realizing that a relieved laugh brewed in his chest. Oh, how he’d worried over nothing! He found himself grinning within seconds. Without thinking, he leaned over and pressed another kiss against her forehead.

 “Oh, Kyoko. Have you been beating yourself up about this all day?”

 “I’m sorry. I’m a horrible girlfriend.”

 He laughed and shook his head, giving her arm a supportive squeeze. “No, you’re not!”

 “Yes, I am. I completely forgot everything that’s supposed to be important about today, and I tried to ask Aoi, Komaru, and Togami-kun to get them to tell me, but they didn’t know either. I thought maybe by coming here with you and seeing what you were buying would give me some clues as to what our plans are, but I’m just more confused. Half of these are snacks, and the other half are just random items,” she reached into the box and pulled out a container of shampoo, “Seriously. What does this have to do with tonight?” 

 He chuckled awkwardly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with tonight. We just needed more shampoo. Same thing with the hand soap and sponges and all that. Picking up the snacks was the main goal. I’m going to make those caramel popcorn bars for us to eat, and it’s been awhile since we had hiyoko cakes, and you asked me for nachos when we first planned tonight…” 

 “But you only ever make the popcorn bars when we have Dead Trial marathons...” She muttered, her eyes suddenly lighting up like she’d struck a match. To his surprise, she actually gasped, taking hold of his arm. They must have looked so silly, grasping onto each other like that. “The new season gets uploaded to Flickies tonight, doesn’t it?! Is that why today is special?”

 Finally, he let himself have a full, hearty laugh. “Yeah! Since you’ve been so busy lately, I figured you must have been holding out for it and doing all that work to make sure you could enjoy yourself once it got uploaded. I didn’t realize you’d forgotten about it entirely.”

 “So I’m not a terrible girlfriend?”

 “Far from it! Just a girlfriend who worked so hard that she forgot about a special TV bingeing night.” 

 She exhaled with relief, her hand hitting her chest. “I’m so glad.” 

 “You must have been really worried, huh?”

 “Of course I was,” she murmured, rubbing his arm in what he assumed was supposed to be some form of affection, “I was certain that I would be hurting your feelings by forgetting, and I’m sure you know that that is the last thing I would ever want to do.”

 “Yeah, I know. Still, Kyoko, I promise I wouldn’t be mad at you if you really had forgotten something important. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind most of the time, and you’re only human. Anybody’s bound to forget stuff. It’s just how people work.”

 She blinked softly at him, staring up at him with the most loving gaze that he’d ever received from him. It was as if he could see the stars in her eyes. “Really?”

 “Of course,” he assured her, “I don’t need you to remember every little thing to know you love me.”

 She sighed, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Makoto’s heart began to beat faster as she pressed her face into his shoulder, snuggling in close. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing in her sweet smell, enjoying the cherry blossom-scent. “You’re too nice to me, Makoto, you know that?”

 “Well, you deserve it.” He murmured, holding her as tightly as he could manage. It felt so good to be in her arms.

 Kyoko snickered. “You’re such a flatterer.”

[sunsetcurve]

I would like to hear the why you hate dr essay, if you don’t mind

buckle up everyone. i’ve been enabled and now you’re never going to get me to shut up.

warning: this is about to get super long, because i have a lot of thoughts about this, and this might be my only opportunity to just...go off. so here’s my whole ass thesis on why i hate dr. colosso. keep in mind that this is the product of several rewatches and a lot of character analysis on my part, because i tend to do that frequently. also, i’d like to start this off with a quick disclaimer: i do think colosso’s role in the show is very important; if you asked me if i’d get rid of him completely i’d say no, but there are definitely things i would’ve done differently with his portrayal, and we’ll get into that later.

when i watched the show for the first time i really didn’t like colosso, but i kind of chalked that up to the fact that he was annoying and left it there. there’s always been something about him that rubs me the wrong way, though. i’ve been doing a rewatch recently (as you’ve probably gathered from my posts) and that combined with talking to @ciara-knightly about it for a while helped me understand why i find his presence to be genuinely problematic.

i’m gonna start with the most obvious thing: he’s a bad influence on max. they of course directly address this in the show, but what i feel like is important to understand here is that colosso’s influence isn’t like “oh he’s max’s troublemaker friends who eggs him on to do bad stuff sometimes haha”. colosso, despite being a bunny, is still actually a supervillain max’s father’s age, and he uses that to manipulate max a lot. talking about it with shona made me realize that especially early on, max really didn’t have anyone else in his life who was willing to listen to his ideas or encourage his skills, specifically inventing gadgets. in canon his parents almost never praise his work, even when he’s not using it for evil (see: phoebe’s a clone now), but colosso is shown to be someone who both helps him with his experiments and keeps him going at them. i’m dipping into character analysis instead of straight up canon here, but it’s pretty clear to understand the impact this would’ve had on max—he’s a kid who wants approval and colosso gives it to him, and in turn max listens to colosso’s ideas and often does what he tells him. i’m not saying that max is completely at colosso’s will, of course—max is very self-driven and that wouldn’t be giving him enough credit, but at the same time, we know very little about the actual process of max’s decision to be a villain, and i really don’t doubt that colosso had a lot to do with it. in the show we see colosso frequently urging max to leave his family behind, and there’s an arc where we literally see max starting to become a better person because of his friends and colosso telling him to ditch them (see: exit stage theft). we also see colosso preying on max’s insecurities, specifically his comparison of himself to phoebe, in order to further his descent into villainy.

the reason i prefaced this by saying colosso’s role in the show is important is because i genuinely think max’s villain arc would’ve been closed much sooner without colosso’s influence. colosso was a huge factor in not only exposing max to the world of supervillains but also in deepening the rift between him and his parents. so everything i said above does actually make sense, writing-wise, within the context of the show—colosso is a supervillain, he’s supposed to be manipulating max, and he is the main factor driving the progression of max’s villain arc.

but now i’m going to get into why i think that from a writer’s standpoint, his role in the show is problematic, especially post-season three.

a lot of it has to do with the fact that none of what i said above is ever really addressed in canon. there are throwaway lines about how colosso was a bad influence on max but there was no recognition of the fact that without colosso, max likely wouldn’t have strayed as far into villainy as he did. more importantly, though, the main issue i had with the writing of max’s arc was that there was no discussion about why he felt so strongly about colosso, and what colosso’s presence said about his relationship with his parents.

like i said before, max needed someone in his life who was willing to give him the approval and validation that he was looking for. in the show his redemption arc comes down to his relationship with his family, but at no point in the show did he actually want to harm his family, so i think there’s a bigger picture here—i honestly think that a big part of it was that at that point in his life, max had sort of grown past the need to be told his worth; he clearly still had his insecurities, but having friends, a girlfriend, and a life outside of his family (where he felt unseen) gave him a more concrete role. the point here that i’m trying to make is that max’s arc essentially came down to his own perception of his self-worth. the reason colosso was able to influence him so strongly was because as i said before, he was the one who gave max the validation he wanted. and this is why i felt like max’s arc was really one-sided—his parents’ lack of attention towards him and pretty blatant favoritism towards phoebe was clearly a huge factor in max’s arc that was never brought up again. the reason that i say i would’ve changed colosso’s role after max’s redemption is because until that point, colosso had been sort of a stand-in for max’s parents in his life, but one who took advantage of him. i wish the show had gone towards a more well-rounded reconciliation between max and his parents, and an acknowledgement of their mistakes and the fact that max was able to be so strongly influenced by colosso because he didn’t feel like he had anyone else. instead, they pretty much glossed over and trivialized max’s reasons for wanting to be a villain in the first place, and the dynamics within the family didn’t actually change—his parents still showed pretty clear favoritism towards phoebe (see: thundermans: banished!) and max still went to colosso for approval and advice. i think the only really central thing that changed was max’s relationship with phoebe, and that was incredibly important for max’s development and i liked the way it played out, but i still would’ve had more conversation between max and his parents about how things went down.

(also, i think hank and barb’s decision to let their supervillain-turned-bunny bunk with their teenage—possibly preteen at the time—son is a little bit sketchy. that’s all i’m saying.)

and now comes the counterpoint that max and colosso are best friends. which—that statement in and of itself has always rubbed me the wrong way. i’m not here to argue whether or not colosso loves max; he very clearly does (see: a hero is born, the thunder games), but it’s a selfish and possessive sort of caring. colosso doesn’t actually care about what’s best for max, or whether or not he’s happy. he hated allison, he didn’t want max to reconcile with his family, he tried to separate max from his friends. he essentially just wants max for himself, and that sort of dynamic is incredibly toxic no matter how close they are. there’s also something to be said about the age difference between them: max is a teenager and colosso is at least his father’s age, and this is not me trying to dismiss the relationship that kids can have with important adults in their life—i, personally, have had really strong relationships with teachers and mentors to the point where i consider them good friends—but the issue is that with those sort of relationships there is always a sense of the older person being like a mentor and influencing the younger one, and while that can often be a really good thing it can also, like in colosso’s case, be a bad thing.

and going off of the age difference, let’s get into the final and most prominent reason that i hate colosso. the show pretty frequently makes jokes that mirror romantic partnerships when it comes to max and colosso. i can cite so many instances when colosso calls max pet names or the situation is modeled after a marriage or colosso makes sort of flirty advancements towards max, but it’s fine because it’s all for humor, right? and colosso’s a bunny, right? except he’s actually a fifty-something year old man, and max is a teenager. and while those jokes have always made me superbly uncomfortable, my general rule of thumb during my rewatch has been “if colosso was human right now, how creepy would this be?” and the answer is almost always very. very very creepy. i don’t think i need to go into too much analysis on why i hate this so much but colosso’s “flirting” with max is just genuinely disgusting and is the main reason i can’t stand him as a character.

this is veering into 1.6k territory so i’m going to try and wrap it up here. the tl;dr for this is that while i think colosso played a pretty pivotal role in the show, i wish in the end part of max’s arc would’ve been about breaking away from him instead of remaining in a very toxic dynamic with a supervillain his father’s age. i think colosso could’ve eventually been redeemed if it came down to it, but overall i wish there had been more acknowledgement of exactly how colosso affected max before they became “friends” again, and especially hank and barb’s failures when it came to max feeling unheard. if you actually read this all the way through i’m applauding you, and thank you for asking to see this essay because i love doing character/writing analysis stuff like this. until next time!

[psychnerd47]

Monster College Part 2

Rating: G, warnings none. 

Characters: Jackson Jekyll/ Holt Hyde, Invisi-Billy, Deuce Gorgon,  Frankie Stein, and Operetta

Invisi-Billy pulled out his phone, and started to call Abbey.

“Um, hey Abbey, it’s Billy.”

“Why are you calling so early in the morning?” the abominable snowwoman asked abruptly.

“Heath, has an 8:00 class, but he is still asleep, I was wondering if I should awaken him?”

  “You are not his mother, but if you think it’s a good idea?” Abbey added.

 The disappearing boy walked over to Heath’s bed and gave him a slight shove. But Invisi-Billy soon realized that really didn’t think this through, as all of a sudden Heath jolted awake with a head full of fire, triggering the sprinkler in their bedroom. Billy pushed his now soaked, blue-black hair out of his face, he didn’t have time to change he was now going to have to meet Scarah all soaked. Heath sat up, totally unfazed by the large amount of water in the room.

“Oh, look at the time,” Heath said as he jumped out of bed, “I need to get to class”.

 In the meanwhile Holt ran down the hall towards Jackson and Deuce’s room. “I just need to grab my swimsuit, Holt’s headed to the pool!” the blue skinned monster announced. But since subtlety was not one of Holt’s greater talents, as he crashed the door open he awoke Deuce. Deuce who was actually a morning monster, immediately knew what to do after he saw Holt’s presence.   “Hold it there dude,” Deuce called out, “Jackson, has to get to class.” The gorgon boy grabbed Jackson’s headphones and put them on the head of the blue-skinned monster. Instantly turning him back into, nerdy human boy Jackson.

Jackson started to freak out, “Why am I only in a towel? Where are my clothes? I need to get to class.”

 “It’s ok dude, Holt showed up, probably while you were showering.” Deuce said calmly, “I’ll go get your stuff for you and then you can go to class, might save you some embarrassment,” Deuce said in a supportive voice.

“Thanks,” said Jackson sheepishly.

    Invisi-Billy made finally made it to the dying-hall, to meet Scarah. The Banshee girl was sitting at a table waiting for her disappearing boyfriend. “Are you alright?” she asked when she saw how soaked Billy was.

 “Heath had an accident this morning, and he set off the fire sprinkler,” Billy explained.

 “You poor dear,” Scarah said. Since Scarah was telepathic Billy always had to tell the truth, even if it was embarrassing.

       After Jackson got his backpack and clothes back, he started to run to get to class. He didn’t have time to grab breakfast so he just grabbed a Zombie Energy drink, since he didn’t want to fall asleep in class. When Jackson made it to Coding 101 he spotted Ghoulia Yelps. She was a zombie, who also had a prefect GPA in high school and was even valedictorian for their class, so it was not surprising to see that she also bypassed Introduction to Coding. Jackson grabbed a seat next to her.

The coding teacher was a middle age cyborg who looked like he had been working with computers since they first came out. The class was going well until Mr. Cybernik decided to share his favorite music video about coding with the class. Jackson spent that time hiding under his desk with his hands over his ears. The coding class ended with Mr. Cybernik assigning a whole caskets worth of homework.

 Billy went to find his Monster Anatomy and Physiology class, he had written that it was in room 235 of the Stoker Building of Natural History and Science. The disappearing boy spotted room 235. When he walked in he spied some fellow students he recognized from high school: Jinafire Long, Skelita Calaveras, Rochelle Goyle, and Deuce’s mummy girlfriend Cleo de Nile. Invisi-Billy was so glad he would be in a class with people he knew. He found a seat next to Jinafire. “I didn’t realize you were all taking this class,” the invisible boy started, “but I’m greatful.”

The Chinese dragon girl just smiled awkwardly. A pompous looking gargoyle walked into the class room. She was large and wore an expensive looking pink dress. Billy was confused, she didn’t look like the teacher on the My Campus page for his class. He had been expecting a skinny, mad scientist with a long beard.

The gargoyle teacher had a list she was starting to call off for attendance, when she got to Billy she asked him who he was in a voice that sounded like she did not have time for any nonsense. “Um, Invisi-Billy Mann,” the disappearing boy answered.

 “You are not on my list, you are taking Introduction to Monstropolgy aren’t you?” the instructor asked.

 “No,” Billy answered, “I’m supposed to be taking Monster Anatomy and Physiology.”

The gargoyle instructor rolled her eyes, “You supposed to be in room 235 ‘B’, this is room 235 ‘A’”.

Billy blushed, and then started to turn invisible from the embarrassment. The rest of the class watched as what appeared to be a hoodie, jeans, beanie and back pack walked out of the classroom.

Invisi-Billy quietly sneaked into the correct classroom. Luckily for him the professor Dr. Choppenguts had not begun to call attendance yet. The dark-blue haired boy spied Lagoona Blue and Gil Webber, and grabbed a chair next to the beautiful Australian sea monster girl. “Crikey, Billy. You were almost late for class, that is not like you at all,” Lagoona said.

Insvisi-Billy blushed again, “ I accidently went to the wrong class room,”

Gil laughed, “It’s ok, Billy that could happen to anyone. Yesterday I showed up to the wrong dormroom and I thought I was going to have to be roommates with Kieron Valentine instead of Clawd,” the river monster laughed.

Billy smiled, “I would never want to be roommates with Valentine, with his extra Southern Accent, and he’s so uptight you would think his underwear is three sizes too small.”

“That’s really funny,” Gil whisper laughed, “but you know who won’t be laughing? Johnny Spirit. Operetta says that he and Valentine were assigned to be roommates.”

 Johnny Spirit was a Rockabilly Greaser ghost, who played the fiddle and was Operetta’s boyfriend. Operetta was the sassy, high octane Rockabilly daughter of the Phantom of the Opera’s daughter.

Billy laughed again, but then turned to face Doctor Choppenguts who started his lecture about how even though how all monsters are very different, their bodies all function very similarly. Billy started to mentally drift off, he doodled in his notebook, maybe he shouldn’t have followed Mr. Rotter’s advice about being a doctor and followed his dream of being a stage tech.

Frankie Stien, the beautiful and sweet daughter of Frankenstein’s monster and his bride, invited Jackson to an early lunch with her at the campus Ick-Fil-A. Jackson still felt a little awkward with his relationship with Frankie because she had previously broken up with him, when his going back and forth between Jekyll and Hyde had gotten out of control, but he still harbored a crush on her, even if she just saw him as her best friend. “I actually kinda miss having my mom around,” Jackson admitted to Frankie, “she kept me company and helped me to remember the silliest little things I always forget such as clean underwear,” Jackson sighed.

Frankie put her hand on his shoulder, “It will be ok, at least you get to be roommates with two of your best friends. I’m sorry you are feeling discouraged by the ‘Holt’ episode this morning, but don’t give up yet.” The stitched together girl encouraged.  Jackson didn’t say anything a quietly sipped his soda, but the quietness was not going to last.

A lilac-colored skinned girl, with a bright red Victory Roll hair style waltzed over to the two of them, it was Operetta Phantom. “Hey, y’all,” she called out with her smooth, charming Southern accent, “Johnny and I are hosting a big ‘ol  rockin’ shindig tonight, we got permission to use the student union hall, which is just a floor above this here dying hall. So be there or be square,” she laughed.

“That sounds amazing,” Frankie said in awe, “what is going to happen at the party?”

 “Well,” the Rockabilly phantom answered,“ Johnny and I are going to play rockin’ live music for us all to dance too. I’ve even gotten Deuce to help me cook up some of my family’s dang famous gumbo recipe,” she turned to Jackson who looked super uncomfortable about going to a party with hot music, “you are going to come right?”

Jackson grew even more awkward, he jumped to his feet clumsily, “I just remembered,” he started awkwardly, “I really have to go to the bathroom.” suddenly the human boy shot out of the room.

*                       *                                   *

 Jackson sat on the floor of a bathroom stall crying and hoping no one would notice him. Why did people have to keep inviting him to parties, didn’t they understand that he couldn’t come.

From his hiding place Jackson heard someone else walk in, “Hey Jackson dude,”

Jackson recognized the voice to belong to Deuce, “are you alright? Frankie sent me to check on you. She’s concerned.” The Gorgon boy explained, “you need to come out. I know you have been having some setbacks with Holt. But you can’t keep avoiding everything,” Deuce continued, “you really need to get out more often. Frankie and I will look after you, even if you turn to Holt, we won’t let you get out of control,” the snake-haired boy assured his friend.

“Ok,” Jackson answered quietly as he started to leave the bathroom, he hoped that Deuce wouldn’t notice he had been crying.

 Meanwhile, Invisi-Billy sat alone in the dying hall with a very pathetic piece of cafeteria pizza, as he sat in his misery, a certain red-haired Rockabilly phantom waltzed up to him. “Why so glum sugar-plum? I bet ya haven’t heard about my party?”

Tags @queenofworry

[thisgirlsays22]

Intro to Data Science: Chapter 4

Fic Rating: E / Chapter Rating: Also E

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin

Pairing(s):  Eren Yeager/ Levi

Chapter Word Count: 5.3K

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, (British) Professor Levi, (American) Student Eren, Long Distance

Summary:

“You’re probably just into him for the accent.”

“It’s not that,” Eren argued. “It doesn’t hurt, but it’s so much more than that.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Notes:

For my lovely @fluffymusketeer <3 Danni, I hope your eyes are well-rested and ready for more romance and smut. 

And a big thank you to @attraversiamo19 for continuing to be an incredible beta, and to @erensjaegerbombs for coming on board as a beta/smut consultant. You guys are the best! (And to @dreamxxdream for continuing to read and give encouragement on early drafts <3333.) 

Read chapter 4 on Ao3 or under the cut. Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | chapter 3 on Tumblr.

What the hell were you supposed to bring to someone’s place if they’d invited you over for tea? The thought had plagued Eren all week.

Historia, the girlfriend of one of his roommates--Ymir, the mean one from Wales--and, somewhat embarrassingly, Eren’s only friend, had suggested he have some fun and buy an assortment of tea for Levi.

“It’ll be cute,” she'd assured him. “Ymir secretly loves that sort of thing. I think she finds it disarming.”

They’d even gone to Tesco together, and he’d come away with far more than he’d planned. Or at least far more than felt appropriate to bring as a thanks for inviting me to tea, can we please fuck again, and can you say filthy things to me in that accent, thank you again for the hospitality.

Now, outside Levi’s flat, Eren stared down at the bag full of tea and realised what a dumb gift this truly was. He ran a nervous hand through his hair and worked up the nerve to buzz Levi’s apartment.

Laughter and music from the high street bars and restaurants were drowned out by Eren’s thoughts, playing on loop as he waited for Levi to let him in: Holy shit I have Levi’s address. Holy shit I am at Levi’s apartment. Holy shit I’m going to see Levi. Holy shit I’m going to fuck Levi again.  

That is, if Levi wanted to fuck him after he saw his stupid bag of tea.

The door swung open. “Hi,” Levi said, cheeks flushed. “It’s a bit hot in here. I’ve got the oven on.” He patted his hands on his apron, which read Keep Calm and Set a Bloody Timer.

He’s got the oven on, Eren thought, dazed. He fucking cooked for me. “Hi,” Eren said. “Cool apron. Very British.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “A gift from a friend. Come in.”  

“I, um. Here--” Eren thrust the bag at Levi, embarrassed that for some reason Levi seemed to be cooking him dinner and he’d brought...a bag of tea. He was going to have to have a talk with Historia about this.

Levi gave the bag a puzzled frown as he took it from Eren. After having a quick look through, Levi’s eyes softened and he said, “Eren, these are all awful.”

Eren burst out laughing, feeling the tension ease. It was so much better that Levi didn’t pretend to make a fuss. “Oh. Really? I thought Twinings was nice.”

Levi chuckled and shook his head. “Why did you even bring these?”

“You invited me for tea? My friend thought it would be a nice idea. In place of wine.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still embarrassed. 

Levi bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

“What?”

“Tea’s not...I’ve invited you round for dinner.”

“No. No. You distinctly said tea.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled up. “Here, look. I said ‘what time should I come over for tea’, and you didn’t correct me.”

To Eren’s dismay, Levi didn’t bother to look at the textual evidence. Instead, he said, “It’s another word for dinner.”

“Fuck. Really?” Eren laughed, hoping Levi didn’t think he was a complete idiot.  

“I did ask if you had any allergies or dietary restrictions. Don’t you have any British friends?” At least Levi sounded amused and was courteously trying to hold back his laughter.

“I thought you were just being kind of weird. And not really. My best friend here is also American.” And gives really bad gift advice. “I mean my flatmates are from here, but we don’t talk much. We’ve definitely never had dinner together.” Reiner drank a lot of protein shakes, and Eren had never seen Bert eat anything but pasta and peas. Annie and Ymir remained mysteries that Eren was fine not solving.

“Well, that explains it then.” Levi was still holding the bag, giving it an odd little smile.  

“Do you want to keep them?” Eren asked.

“No. Please take them far away from here. Donate them to charity or give them to your flatmates.” He placed the bag down in the hallway, but he did it gently, and Eren felt that somehow the gift had still been well received. Even if it was not being kept.

Eren took off his shoes and left them on the rack next to a few pairs of Levi’s. On the other side of the hall was a closed door, and he realised it must be Levi’s bedroom. He got one of those full body heat waves that he thought he’d left behind during his teen years. Why did he have no chill over Levi’s fucking bedroom and the fact that he might end up in there later?

Levi ushered him into the main part of the apartment.

“Your place looks like one of the Ikea magazines my mom keeps in her bathroom.”

“Thank you?” Levi said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s really nice!” Eren clarified.

“Ah, right.” Levi looked pleased. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing towards the living room.

Eren had meant what he’d said, but underneath the compliment lurked a sadder observation. The apartment was gorgeous; the kitchen and living room were connected, and above the leather sofa, a wide skylight opened up to grey clouds and the fading light straining through them.

Gorgeous, but bare, missing the feeling of being home. Two book shelves flanked the television--Eren spotted Levi’s copy of The Book of Dust and felt a flush of warmth in his chest--but otherwise the place seemed cold and unlived in, like it really was just a model home made for photographs in magazines.  

But of course he wasn’t going to mention that now. He didn’t want to exacerbate the awkward, tentative tension between them.

“So if tea is dinner, what are we having?” Eren asked.

“Wine,” Levi deadpanned. “Lots of wine.”

Eren laughed at Levi’s response, but a shyness crept up on him, the intimate feel of the night had thrown him off-balance. Like standing on an unsteady boat at sea.

“Can I help with anything?” he asked as he watched Levi bustling around the kitchen. It didn’t look like he was doing anything in particular, but he certainly appeared busy.

“No no. Thanks. Have a seat.”

Maybe Eren should just go kiss him or something. But hadn’t Levi invited him here to talk? Apparently tea wasn’t even really tea, so he had no fucking clue what was going to happen.

Eren took a seat at the table so he would still be close enough to hear Levi or offer help again.

“So really what’s for dinner?”

Levi, who still appeared to be doing nothing in the kitchen while looking intently focussed, smiled at the question.

“Salmon and roasted veg.”

“That sounds great!”

Silence again and more of Levi’s fussing around in the kitchen. Was Levi as nervous as Eren?

Unable to bear the tension anymore, Eren stood and walked over to Levi. He blurted out the question that had been on his mind since he left Levi’s office: “Are we going to talk about...whatever is going on here?”

“Yes.”

They stared at one another, and Levi didn’t offer any further explanation.

“I want to keep seeing you,” Eren said, exasperated.

Levi sighed. “I’d like that too.”

Eren startled. “Really? But you said you didn’t see this going anywhere.”

“Still asked you here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but what if I want to see where this goes? I want to, you know, date you or whatever.” Eren tried to keep his tone casual. He didn’t know where this could go either, really. He didn’t know if Levi would like him once he really got to know him, didn’t even know if he’d be staying in the country once he’d turned his thesis in. But still. He couldn't help that he wanted to find out where it could go.

Levi crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “I’d like to keep seeing you. May as well see what happens.”

Eren took a moment to let that sink in. It suddenly felt as though he was having a lucid dream, nothing around him real and anything was possible. 

“I read the university’s policy. On students and teachers,” Eren said. 

Levi sighed. “I did too. Eren look I--I need to talk to my department head.”

Eren blinked at him. “Oh.”

“You’re not okay with that?”

“No, no. It’s that I’m surprised you want to bring it up now. It feels so serious and official,” he explained.

“Even if this doesn’t go beyond tonight, I shouldn’t be on any panels to grade your work. If I am, it should be approved by the department.”

The thought of other professors knowing there was something going on between them made Eren uneasy. He didn't want Levi to be judged.  

“If it makes you too uncomfortable, I won’t, but I don’t think--I don’t think anything more should happen between us if that’s the case.”

He was stunned by Levi's willingness to put himself in such an awkward position. “Okay,” Eren agreed. “What are you going to tell them?”

“That you blew me in my office, and I jerked you off.”

Eren kept his face serious, not wanting Levi to get the best of him. “That’s great. I just wanted to make sure you’d provide an accurate account of what happened. Spare no detail.”

Levi snorted. “Yes, I’ll be sure to mention the cum you wiped on my face.”

“They don’t need to hear about that.”

“Spare no detail,” Levi reminded him.

Eren swallowed, ready to seize the opportunity he saw. “You should also make sure to tell them that I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life. Your voice does things to me.”

Without any more jokes to hide behind, Eren leaned awkwardly against the counter next to Levi.

Levi turned away, tips of his ears red. “Yes, well. I’ll be sure to include that in my report.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a corkscrew in the drawer to your left if you want to get started,” he mumbled, putting on his oven mitts and pulling out the tray, full of a colourful assortment of fish, tomatoes, asparagus and carrots.  

“That looks amazing,” Eren said as he searched around for the wine opener. All of Levi’s utensils and kitchen gadgets in the drawer were neatly arranged, the wine opener right on top.

“Cheers. I prepare a decent tea.”  

Eren caught the smirk playing on Levi’s lips. “Hey, there’s no need to pour salt in the wound. Low blow.”

Levi rested the hot pan of food on top of the stove, slipped off the mitts, and walked over towards Eren.

“I like your voice too,” Levi said in an undertone, grey eyes dark as they met Eren’s. “Not as annoying as other American accents I’ve heard.”   

Come and kiss me, Eren thought a little desperately, but Levi set the plates down on the table instead. His brain felt a little broken. Unhelpful thoughts like Are we dating now? and When are we going to make out? made it difficult to focus on his food.

As they ate, the sky opened up without warning. Rain pounded down on the skylight, leaving violent slashes of water against the glass. The nearby shops and pubs still sent in some light through the darkening sky. Eren periodically looked up to watch the rain, smiling each time.

“Do you watch the rain in here a lot?” Eren asked.

“Yes,” Levi said. “It’s quite nice to listen to the rain and read a book. I fall asleep on that armchair more often than I should.”

When they were finished eating they moved to the couch, and as the wine flowed, the conversation loosened their tongues. Soon Eren was telling Levi:  “I saved up to buy these stupid Abercrombie clothes in high school. It’s silly, but I’m still proud of myself that I got them all on my own. It’s what all the cool kids were wearing.” Eren rolled his eyes, but his words were sincere.

“I shouldn’t have teased you,” Levi said apologetically. “I thought you were a bit of a lad at first.”

“A what?"

"A 'bro'" Levi said. 

"Oh. Nah. Just a poor kid who will wear the same shirt until it has holes everywhere and someone in his family just throws it out for him.” Usually that someone was Mikasa. 

“It’s nice you’re close to your family,” Levi said.

“Are you not?”

“I don’t have any family to be close to.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eren asked.

“Not much to say. Never met my dad, and my mum died when I was young. My uncle raised me, but he died a few years back too. Only good thing he left me was his house.” Levi’s eyes went somewhere far away, and Eren touched his hand carefully as though he were reaching for a broken bit of glass. Levi looked up at Eren in surprise, but didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” Eren said. “My dad died when I was about thirteen, and it was really hard on the family. Thus the, uh, money shit I mentioned. But at least I had the rest of my family, I’m sorry you were alone.”  

“Wasn’t completely alone. I grew up with two of my friends, and they’ve always been like family.”

Eren’s heart warmed at the fondness in Levi’s voice when he mentioned his friends. He liked learning these details of Levi’s life.

“What’s the rest of your family like then?” Levi asked.   

“I’ve been told I have an interesting family.” Eren always felt self-conscious explaining the tedious intricacies of his family, but he might as well get it over with. “My sister Mikasa’s adopted, and my brother--half-brother--Zeke was adopted by my mom when she and our dad got married. His mom died when he was a baby.” Eren sighed. “My mom and Mikasa are the best, but Zeke is a fucking mess.”

Levi furrowed his brow. “How’s that?”

It seemed impolite to get into the fact that Zeke owed him close to a thousand dollars. Eren swallowed down the resentment and said instead, “I used to really look up to Zeke. He was my hero. I was a freshman when he was a senior in high school, and he just seemed like he had it all together. So popular, like really charismatic, head of the debate team, which sounds dorky but he made it look cool.”

Eren paused, worried that he was being a boring buzzkill, but Levi nodded for him to continue.

“Something happened after he graduated. He’s different now. It’s like he just got stuck, I don’t know.”

“Death in the family can do that to a person,” Levi said in his calm, neutral way.

“Maybe,” Eren said. The anger coming back up again. Over the years he’d heard these same explanations from his mother--“Zeke lost his mother and now his father, Eren. Cut him some slack.”--But he was tired of breaks and excuses.

He changed the subject before he began a rant that was difficult to disengage from, always a car with broken brakes. “My mom and my sister might be coming to visit me in a couple months.”

“That’s nice,” Levi said.

“Yeah, they’ve never been here before. Mikasa hasn’t even left the country, so I think it would be really cool if it works out. I’d love to show them the city.”

Levi nodded and refilled their wine glasses. Eren was at that beautiful point where he felt relaxed, funnier. He didn’t want to get sloppy tonight, not when he wanted to impress Levi. Wanted to make him feel good.

“So you like living in London then?” Levi asked. 

“More than anything.” Even though the loneliness could be overwhelming sometimes, he’d lived with that feeling for most of his life. It was better here than it had ever been back home. The sense of freedom trumped all.

Levi gave him a small smile, taking a sip of wine.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Eren said, catching Levi’s eye from across the couch.

Levi knew what he meant. “Me too.”

You like me, Eren thought, the realisation knocking the air out of him all over again. The first time he’d ever hiked to the top of a mountain and stared out at the vast green forest below, the mountains in the distance, he’d had this same feeling.   

Without breaking eye contact, Levi set his wine glass down with a gentle clink against the wooden table, and they moved together; Eren climbed into Levi’s lap to lick into his mouth, and Levi’s fingers slid up his shirt in reply. The only sounds in the room were the rain hitting the glass above them, the soft sounds of their lips moving together.

“What do you like, Eren?” Levi asked in an undertone that made heat coil in Eren’s belly.

“Umm a lot things,” Eren said, and then internally chastised himself for being so unsexy. Buzzed from the wine, he bit his lip and then said, “I like to be spanked sometimes. Nothing too crazy, but yeah.”

“Huh.” Levi nodded. “I wondered.”

“What? How?”

“Dunno. You seemed to really like begging for me. And there was a moment when I--” he reached over carefully and tugged Eren’s hair not too forcefully but enough that the promise of more made Eren’s cock take interest.

Amazed, Eren said, “Oh. Wow, you noticed that.”

Levi gave him a small smile. “Do you want me to take care of you, Eren?”

Wide-eyed and turned on as fuck, Eren nodded.

“Let me take you to bed?”

Eren surged forward and kissed him again, the words making him burn all over. That loop began to play through his head again. Holy fuck Levi is taking me to bed. Who even says that? Take me anywhere, fuck.

In a tangle, they made it to the bedroom, Eren unable to resist pulling Levi in for kiss after kiss.

Eren stepped back to strip off his shirt, and a thrill shot through him at Levi’s appreciative look. He reached forward and pulled Levi’s shirt off too, sighing with pleasure, running his fingers down the thick, corded muscles of Levi’s abs and arms.

“God damn,” Eren said with awe.

Levi smirked, and Eren watched eagerly as he removed the rest of his clothes, heavy cock curving up towards his belly. Hot desire flared within Eren, and he stepped forward to touch Levi again, to get his hands anywhere he could.

Eren’s cock strained against his jeans, and mercifully Levi unzipped them, tugging them down along with his boxers. The room was warm, but a shivery thrill shot through Eren as his dick sprang free.

“You make me so fucking hard,” Eren said, arousal pulsing through his whole body as he pushed Levi onto the bed and straddled him. They made out on top of Levi’s crisp, freshly washed sheets. They still smelled like detergent, and damn Eren even liked Levi’s detergent.

“Let me suck your dick this time,” Levi said lowly, gripping Eren’s ass and urging him forward until his cock bobbed in front of Levi’s lips.

Head tilted up, Levi began teasing the underside of Eren’s cock with his tongue, lapping gently as he kneaded Eren’s ass. Without warning, he began to suck, hands guiding Eren into a steady rhythm. A string of nonsensical obscenities was all Eren could manage as Levi worked his magic, taking Eren deeper and deeper.

Levi opened his eyes to meet Eren’s, holding his gaze as he angled his head and began to run his lips up and down the side.

“You ever tried that one before, Eren? The harmonica technique, apparently.”

“Fuck you.” Eren gave a shaky laugh, a little relieved to have the edge taken off. He’d thought he was already about to blow his load on Levi’s face, and just the thought of it made his dick throb.

Levi began to lick the head of Eren’s cock again, but Eren stopped him. “I want to touch you too.” And if Levi kept going, he wouldn't be able to keep it together. 

He moved so they were laying side by side. He dragged a hand down the soft hair of Levi’s happy trail and through the coarser pubic hair, playing with Levi’s cock which was so hard in his hands.

“Lube’s in the bedside table to your left.” Levi sounded breathless.

Eren grabbed the lube and slicked both of their hands with it so they could fist each other’s cocks while they made out, their moans swallowed up by each searing kiss. Levi did double duty, fingering Eren open while he jerked him off until Eren couldn’t take anymore and got on all fours. “Fuck me,” he pleaded.

Levi got on his knees and pulled a condom from the bedside drawer. He ran his hands over Eren’s ass, and Eren pushed his hips back. “Come on, Levi.”

He moaned in relief when Levi pushed all the way inside, caressing Eren’s back all the while.

Buried balls deep in him, Levi stayed still. “You sure you’re ready?” he asked quietly.

“Y-yes,” Eren said.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“I will,” he promised.  

The first slap came then, and a jolt of electricity shot to Eren’s dick. Head thrown back, he groaned. “God yeah, that’s good. More.”

Levi began to move with slow, even thrusts as he let another slap land on Eren’s other cheek.

“Fuckkk,” Eren cried, letting his hips sink down so he could grind himself against the bed. He needed that sweet friction to ease some of the throbbing in his cock. His arms were already quivering in anticipation, and he didn’t think he could support himself one-handed if he tried to touch himself.

Another smack, the sweet bite of pain and pleasure was almost too much as Levi continued to fuck him slowly. “Hips up,” Levi said. “I’ll touch you when I’m ready.”

“You’re evil,” Eren moaned as he raised himself back up, shocked by how fucked out he sounded already. They’d barely even been at it, but it was like he’d been waiting his whole life for someone to do this to him. One or two people over the years had tried, but never like this. They hadn’t taken it seriously, not like Levi was.

Levi hummed in acknowledgement. “You’re doing so well, Eren,” he said as he quickened his pace. Eren never knew when the next spark of pleasure-pain was going to land. The anticipation, the inability to relieve the ache in his cock made his head dizzy with pleasure, cock leaking pearly fluid onto Levi’s sheets. Eren struggled to hold himself up, but wanted to please Levi.

He lost time like that, lost himself in the feeling of Levi inside him and the sweet, steady sting.

Levi hit that sweet, perfect spot as he thrust deep inside of him. He slapped Eren’s ass again, harder this time, and Eren nearly sobbed with torturous pleasure. He had never felt so exposed during sex before, so open about what he wanted. Never had someone give him exactly what he needed.

“Levi, I don’t know if I can--god, please, touch me.”

Levi pulled out of him and Eren whimpered.

“Turn over,” Levi commanded, voice husky as he ran his fingers down Eren’s spine, making him shiver. “On your back.”

Eren complied, body bonelessly falling back against the bed.

When he looked up, the expression on Levi’s face stole his breath away. Levi’s hair had fallen in front of his eyes, sticking to his forehead. Chest and cheeks tinted red. Lips parted as he gazed at Eren with raw desire.

“You want me.” Eren gazed up at Levi, dumbstruck by the hunger in Levi’s eyes. 

Levi crawled forward, placing his hands on either side of Eren’s head. “What gave me away?” he asked dryly. Christ, that voice would be the death of him.

“Fuck me,” Eren said, somewhere between a plea and an order. “Now. I need you.”

Levi reached down and slid himself back inside of Eren.

Levi bent forward to nibble at Eren’s lips and finally wrapped a hand around his aching cock.

“You were so good for me,” Levi whispered against Eren's lips, his hand working Eren’s dick in tandem with his deep thrusts.

Eren whimpered at the praise, throwing his head back against the pillow in ecstacy. “Levi--I can’t--I’m gonna--” Eren’s orgasm crashed over him, and he cried out, fingers digging into Levi’s biceps as he came so hard he thought he might pass out.

A few more thrusts and Levi followed suit, Eren still light-headed. Their sweat-slicked chests heaved against one another as they caught their breath. Levi pulled out carefully; he brushed Eren’s hair out of his eyes before going to retrieve a towel to clean them both up.

As they lay together after, facing one another in the bed, Eren asked, “You really liked that, didn’t you?”

Levi paused, considering the question. “I liked how much you liked it.”

“Oh. I hope I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to?” The idea of anyone sacrificing their own pleasure for him was troubling.

Levi shifted closer and reached out a hand to cup Eren’s cheek. “Course not,” he said, and Eren relaxed.

“Hey, do you think we could go into the living room while it’s raining?” Eren asked. “I really like your skylight.”

“Sure.” Levi gave him a skeptical look. “You need me to carry you?”

“No, no. I’m fine,” Eren said, but he was shakier on his feet than he anticipated as he tugged on his boxers. He leaned into Levi as they walked through to the living room.

They fell asleep together on the couch as they watched the rain. Eren’s head rested on Levi’s chest as he felt gentle fingers carding through his hair, soothing him along with the pitter-patter against the roof.

Before Eren gave himself up to sleep, hints of fear crept in. Years ago there had been a small earthquake in Eren’s hometown. His dog had paced nervously around the living room, growling and whimpering in anticipation before any of them knew what was coming. It felt a bit like that.  The knowing you were probably going to fall in love, that you were probably going to be heartbroken. A tsunami on the horizon.

    They woke to the first rays of sunlight overhead, and Levi fucked him again. He pinned Eren’s hands above his head and moved so, so slowly. Eren writhed underneath him, trying to gain leverage to speed up the agonizing pace.

“Beg me,” Levi whispered, and Eren shivered.

“Do you like it when I beg you?” he asked.

Levi didn’t answer, but he stroked his thumb over Eren’s cheekbone, and Eren begged and begged and begged.

Please don’t make me go, Eren begged silently, later, when they were showered and dressed.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Levi offered. “What would you like?”

“Pancakes, maybe?”

Levi nodded and retrieved a pan off of the rack, but paused at the stove. “What kind of pancakes do you mean?”

“Oh. Well chocolate chip if you have them. Or fruit.”

“No. I mean, your American ‘pancakes’ or real pancakes.”

Eren furrowed his brow.

“You’d call them crepes.” Levi sighed, as though it pained him greatly to say this.

“I definitely didn’t mean crepes. Do you need a recipe? My mom emailed me her favorite one.”

“You’re head chef, then,” Levi said, stepping aside. He pulled his apron off its hook, and hung it over Eren. There it was, that full body heat again as Levi reached around to tie off the apron. “I’ve only got one, so head chef wears it.”

Eren nodded mutely. If you had asked him yesterday if one of the things he valued in a man was owning an apron, he would have thought it was a joke. Now it was a must-have, a deal-maker.  

Cooking in Levi’s kitchen was so much better than in Eren’s shitty apartment. For one, there was so much room. Having the kitchen in the same area as the living room here meant he wasn’t constantly bashing into things like he was at home. There, if you tried to squeeze in more than one person, it became a huge pain in the ass to cook. Especially if it was Reiner whose shoulders took up half the room.

Levi stood by his side and measured out all the ingredients as Eren instructed, diligently converting the measurements without looking them up.

“It’s amazing you can do that so easily,” Eren said, impressed.

“I have a PhD in statistics, and I cook with my friend Hanji,” Levi said, and Eren didn’t miss the side-stepping of the compliment. “American too. They’ve lived here for a decade now and still learned next to nothing.”

“Oh, wow,” Eren said, “that’s a long time.”

Levi hummed in acknowledgement.

“I think it used to be a lot easier to stay over here,” Eren added a little sadly. He thought of all the companies he couldn’t even apply to without having a permanent visa.

“It certainly did.” Levi finished leveling out the second cup of flour, his tone neutral, unconcerned.

Eren felt a flicker of disappointment; Levi didn’t seem bothered that Eren might be leaving after the summer, but of course that was ridiculous. So they’d fucked a couple times, said they wanted to see where things went, and now they were cooking breakfast together. He thought of his dog pacing, reminded himself to slow down.

Love had always burned so bright and quick for him. Flamed in and out in the blink of an eye. A supernova. Maybe he wasn’t even capable of long-term love, so worrying about the end of the summer was a waste of time.

Eren finished mixing the batter and heated some butter in the pan. He was watching the butter slowly dissolve, so he didn’t see Levi moving closer to reach his arm around Eren’s waist and rest a hand on his hip.

“Hi,” Eren said dumbly.

“Hi,” Levi replied.

They stood like that for a moment, watching each other without a word. Levi had such beautiful, angular features. The way his grey eyes weighed on Eren, the hint of affection in them, was enough to render Eren speechless. It was only the sound of the butter sizzling that broke the spell.

The conversation between them was subdued as they ate the fluffy pancakes, Eren lost in thought over when he would see Levi again.

“Not bad.” Levi hummed with approval as he ate. “Not as good as ours, though.”

“Shut up. They’re better.” Eren smiled around his fork.

After, they cleared the plates together, and then it felt like time for Eren to head off. The oddest feeling passed through him, like a ghost. He already missed Levi.

“I should probably get going. Get out of your hair,” Eren said, rubbing the back of his neck. He wanted Levi to put his hands on him again, but they stayed apart.

Levi nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got papers to grade.”

He followed Eren into the entryway, quiet as Eren put his shoes on.

“What next?” Eren asked, looking up at Levi.

“I don’t know,” Levi replied. He leaned back against the wall, watching Eren, expression unreadable.  

Eren stood and kissed Levi. He still felt like Levi could change his mind at any moment, and he didn’t want to waste a precious second. Pulling back, he said, “Want to--I don’t know--catch a movie later this week?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Eren smiled. “I’ll text you.”

“Right. I better get to work. Papers aren’t going to grade themselves.”  

Eren was halfway home when he realised that Levi hadn’t sent him back with the crappy tea after all. The bag hadn’t been by the door when he’d left; Eren would have noticed.

He felt a stirring of hope, of possibility, in his chest. It was the same feeling he’d felt when he’d decided he needed a change in his life, when he submitted his application for his Master’s, when he’d first stepped off the plane to a new beginning.   

[frostbite883-archive]

Well, either of your ideas that you had written was already written before (albeit differently) by someone else a while back basically (out of the fact that I made questions similar to the ones I gave you which resulted in tumblr bloggers giving me different answers to them). 

gingerly-writing: to this ask I filled out for them. I’m pretty fucking pissed off, and I’ve had my fury checked out by uninvolved parties to make sure it was righteous. It’s righteous.

Me: Not entirely so.

gingerly-writing: First off, feel free not to send people rude-ass messages after they’ve put time and effort into coming up with a response to you? 

Me: The top comment there (the “Well, either of your ideas” comment) wasn’t really the rude comment I typed out. The other one was (which I’m sorry for) which you didn’t copy paste in your third post so other bloggers can see it as that public evidence is vital for context.

gingerly-writing: Also, I thought you were going to use my idea and have me to thank you or something for it when I came up with something like my asks I gave you and something to the equivalent of your “heroes and villains school” stuff before I replied to your ask box sometime ago. Basically, wanting me to give you undeserved credit for my very own idea. I certainly didn’t know you were going to make comments like this either.

So, I actually have a hero and villain school in my own original superhero works, and I did come up with a solution to this one. If you’re writing your own original stuff, please change this up, but if you’re writing fic I don’t mind if you nick it wholesale (as long as you tag me in it! I’d love to read it).

Y’know, for me, this was just background information, but now I kind of want to write a whole book focusing on it.

gingerly-writing: It took me a good 45 minutes to get tumblr to accept my answer to your damn ask, so you’ve just made that a waste of my time.

Me: Maybe. But, from below, you were not bettering the situation.

gingerly-writing: Also, feel free to simply not respond rudely to people’s posts, at all, ever, especially if you were the one who sent the ask in the first place. I didn’t need to know how shit my ideas are, thanks.

Me: Yeah...not really sure where you’re going with this. Are you saying your ideas were horrible because they were based on my idea and how I spread more around on tumblr? Or do you think I’m saying your ideas were horrible because you think I’m somehow saying, implying or thinking that? 

Either why, that comment of yours was not helpful for anyone. Yourself included.

gingerly-writing: Also, as a more general PSA, feel free not to send identical asks to multiple bloggers. 

Me: Not happening. As I can sent any ask at any time by my own free will. As is my right.

gingerly-writing: Seeing someone else answer the same ask really disincentivizes me to answer it, even if it’s in my queue: I worry about stepping on the other responder’s feet, 

Me: Well, to be fair, I can understand the sentiment there. Still, what you say next will lower that sentiment.

and also, it’s motherfuckin rude, you absolute assclown. 

Me: Childish name calling. So...how is it you’re any better with what you had said. What would you benefit from doing that other then venting out your anger. ...Which ironically enough I didn’t even do here and wouldn’t now just so I won’t sink to your level of rudeness. 

gingerly-writing: And if you do send multiple asks and get similar responses, maybe it’s simply because it’s a good fucking idea. If you get different answers, maybe it’s because we’re all different fucking people with awesome different ideas that I’m not sure you deserve.

Me: You know what, I’ll be upfront, and say that I should have not jumped the gun and assumed the worse and could’ve worded my comments better (or just replied privately about the whole matter), you, on the other hand, didn’t do much of anything to resolve the situation as best as you should’ve. In the end, you basically became me. But a little worse.

gingerly-writing

: feel free to block me on the way out

Me: Already did. I’m hoping you don’t treat other bloggers the way you had treated me. Especially if they were nicely bringing up stuff to your attention among other things. And especially, even, in the ‘ginning once they asked you something.

gingerly-writing: #I try to be nice on this site #but I have my limits #and now I'm in rage mode #the asks and the answers #rude #ungrateful

Me: As if you were better with your own fair share of rudeness that might be on the level of hackedmotionsensors’. 

hackedmotionsensors: THIS PERSON IS SO WEIRD!! All they ever do is send these bizarre questions about the DCEU being in MCU!

Me:  Actually, that's not ALL I do. I asked other questions too. And my qs aren't as weird as any one else's either, hacked. Best to not go by assumptions and call people weird for what they say or do. Be it in front of their faces or behind their backs. Also, don't like me or my qs? Then either block me or just blacklist my name.

See ya...never, I guess.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here’s some context on what I was talking about on this post:

TumblrFrostbite: How would you want schools for villains' kids (for Marvel villains' kids, for DC villains' kids, etc) to be ran? And who would you want to run those schools?

gingerly-writing: This is one of those things that I’ve put way too much thought into after you sent this, because I love stuff like this. The question is, are the villains running this school for their kids, or is this something the heroes are putting on to try and rehabilitate the kids while their parents are in prison? I’ll assume the former, but the latter is also super interesting to me.

Disclaimer: this will have a strong DC bent because I have little to no interest in most Marvel villains, whereas I could yack on about DC villains for month. In fact, I might just stick to DC in its entirety because other than Loki (who would be the worst teacher ever, he would encourage so much shenanigans) most of the Marvel villains I know are Nazis or space monsters. Second disclaimer: I’ve watched a lot more animated DC movies and read a lot more fic than I ever have comics, soooooo these depictions might not be comic book accurate. Fanboys, please don’t come for me…but I also don’t really care that much tbh. I like the incarnations that I like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Actual answer under the cut because this got hella long. Hope you like it!

Sponsor: Lex Luthor. Funds the school, shows up to speech day to give speeches and hand out prizes, gives the brightest and most stable kids scholarships to work at Lex Corp in the holidays. Absolutely 100% has his own ends, no one knows what they are. Chucks buckets of money at every problem. Likes to bring the school up at fancy soirees in front of Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen just to piss them off.

Headmaster: Deathstroke (or rather, Slade from Teen Titans). Has no idea how he wound up with this job, complains about the pay 24/7 even though it’s in the range of millions of dollars a term paid in untraceable cash from 50 different countries. Basically ends up like Gordon Ramsey: threatens to assassinate the teachers and parents all the time, has actually taken out some abusive parents, but is weirdly, gruffly nice to the younger kids. Teachers self-defence to all the non-powered kids and weapons to anyone who’s interested and has the discipline for it. Grudgingly tolerates old man jokes.

Deputy Headmistress: Talia al Ghul. Absolutely terrifies all the older kids, mothers the younger ones. In charge of who graduates and who doesn’t; will only let kids graduate if their villainy won’t critically endanger their own life. Sometimes shows up in the backs of random classes and lurks there for ‘assessments’; shows up in more than 50% of Deathstroke’s classes to harass him about his technique. Keeps a photo of Damien on her desk, refuses to acknowledge it’s there if someone asks about it.

Biology: Poison Ivy. Excellent teacher, surprises both herself and her students at how brilliant she is. Everyone wants to take biology with her even if they have no villainous interest in the subject. Litters her lectures with feminist rants, eco-warrior tirades and talks about LGBT+ rights, will gently but forcefully correct anyone who disagrees with her. Runs a vegetable outside the school and encourages the kids to get closer to nature. Just enough passing knowledge of memes to make her older students roll about with laughter: ‘Batman’s homophobic because he inconveniences me and I’m gay’. PDAs with her girlfriend in the corridors.

Women and gender studies: Harley Quinn Ivy’s girlfriend, part time teacher. Wanted to take up the psychology post, but after she seriously suggested sharing it with Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) no one wanted to let her anywhere near it. Knows every meme. Gives great relationship advice, will kill anyone’s abusive boyfriend with no questions asked. Brings her hyenas to school in a ridiculously massive handbag. Has her own locker.

Thievery, sneaking around, Gotham safety: Catwoman. Definitely brings in her cats to act as therapy/comfort animals for the kids. Unofficial therapist; absolutely mothers anyone from Gotham, no exceptions. Brings the kids super expensive (stolen) jewellery to wear on prom night and for big dances, charges in secrets about their parents.

Business and Economics, with a side in mind control: Maxwell Lord (in the more business-orientated editions). Keeps to himself, is one of those teachers who doesn’t actually seem to like kids. Always wears a freshly pressed suit. Bit of an asshole. Selina tripped him down the stairs once.

Magic: supposedly taught by Felix Faust, but Klarion enrolled as a student just to show up in his lectures and argue. Every. Single. Point. Magic classes have turned into a magical war several times. They can only get along when someone else turns up claiming magic isn’t real. Faust has a lecture prepared for the non-believers, Klarion has a fireball. Circe often shows up in these classes, ‘borrows’ all the female students for private lessons and turns all the boys into pigs. Pig-Klarion does not appreciate this.

Physics and advanced thermodynamics: Killer Frost. Gets on really well with the Gotham City Sirens; they have cocktail parties in the staff lounge every second Thursday. Is paid by other villains kidnapping Firestorm so she can feed. Absolutely has favourite students and students she hates with a passion; has been known to freeze some students to their chairs in lieu of detention.

Other random villains that show up from time to time: - Flash’s Rogues Gallery. Created the infamous ‘Rogues week’ at the end of the year where every single one of them shows up and helps the students wreak absolute chaos across the school. Can never be stopped from showing up and starting this. Captain Cold comes grudgingly, sits in Slade’s office and has a drink with him; the rest of the Rogues join in with the chaos a bit too enthusiastically. Best week for the seniors. The younger rogues would totally be students and help to smuggle the older ones in for Rogues week.

- Black Manta: shows up sometimes, teaches a few lectures, leaves. Always on super random topics, often tangentially related to his latest evil scheme. The students have a betting pool that reawakens after each visit on how his talk will relate to his next scheme. Literally no one understands why he shows up. Doesn’t get paid, doesn’t seem to enjoy it. ?????? Has great on-land fashion sense though. A lot of the older students have lowkey crushes on him

- Cheetah takes advanced genetics and many other complex of aspects of science. Only shows up to teach special classes for the seniors. High fives Ivy in the corridors.

- Deadshot. Sometimes shows up and interrupts Deathstroke’s guns lessons (poor guy can never teach a lesson in peace), always gets chased out of the school. Gets teary eyed over the young female students kicking ass. Doesn’t seem to do anything useful but somehow gets paid a salary. Sleeps in the gym when he’s on the run from Amanda Wakker/Batman.

- Hugo Strange keeps showing up in disguises and trying to get the psychology job. Last time it was just a fake moustache. What is he even hoping to achieve.

- Merlyn shows up when he’s bored to host archery competitions on the front lawn. Mostly does this when Oliver Queen is in town. Keeps saying he’s going to pick a protégé out of the best archers and never does because the Arrow Clan kids annoy him so much he’s wound up thinking he hates kids. Actually loves kids, pretends to be snooty and above them though. 100% has to prove he’s still the best archer at every competition, even the one for 12 year olds.

TumblrFrostbite: If the super villain academy children, by the time they hit twenty, had to do some VERY impressive villainous in order to graduate, what type of villainous stuff would you have the rookies villains do to not only graduate, but also to be considered as full fledged villains?

gingerly-writing: So, I actually have a hero and villain school in my own original superhero works, and I did come up with a solution to this one. If you’re writing your own original stuff, please change this up, but if you’re writing fic I don’t mind if you nick it wholesale (as long as you tag me in it! I’d love to read it).

My thought was: all villains are going to be different, with different strengths and gifts. Sending them all to, I don’t know, infiltrate an island or fight Black Canary (which no one would win, let’s be honest) doesn’t seem fair on those it doesn’t suit. I was really struggling to come up with something that could work for everyone that didn’t force them to work in a team, because, well…villainous teams never work so well. Too many egos and whatnot.

My solution was: have the kids pick their own challenges. Make it their end of final year project. They submit a fully researched plan, all the way from the developmental stages to the final polished article. Plans like ‘killing Batman’ or ‘blowing up the planet’ are swiftly vetoed, but as long as they’re convincing enough the plan can get as elaborate and dangerous as they like. Half the marks come from the plan itself, and half for execution. Sometimes, my particularly vindictive kiddos make their plan to screw over their nemesis’ plan; I particularly enjoy when their plans are both to screw over each others’ plans. That gets entertaining.

They’re assigned a teacher whose knowledge base best fits with the plan the kid wants to execute, and they submit and resubmit and re-resubmit it to improve and refine their scheme until it’s as perfect as it’s going to get. Then, with no further outside help, they have to execute it.

This method lets you titivate the grand finale to best suit your plot needs. Your character has a serious nemesis? Pitch them against each other. Parental grudge? Make their aim to foil their parent’s plans. Hero that they hate? Plan to ruin their day. Plus, you can shove in bureaucratic nightmares and whatever other problems you can dream up (sabotage, indecision, dreams too grand to execute) into the planning stages.

I’m not sure you could do anything in a school situation to make the outside world consider them ‘real villains’: that would take time, money, and a body count, all things a school probably can’t afford to have on their books, villainous or not. But a huge, large-scale, dramatic graduating plan probably wouldn’t hurt any young villain’s rep!

Y’know, for me, this was just background information, but now I kind of want to write a whole book focusing on it. xx

[nothing-but-kpop-dreams]

BTS Reaction: Them finding out that they’re your first boyfriend even though you were very popular in HS and got proposed many times(request)

Hi everyone! I’m Admin Cloud and I’m a new admin to Nothing-but-kpop-dreams. I’m sorry that this took so long to write this is also my very first reaction. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

~~~

Rap Monster / Kim Namjoon - You were at home cleaning up your closet and Namjoon decided to come over to help. Your room was a complete mess when he came over. There were clothes everywhere and it took you a bit of time to answer the door.

“Took you long enough” He chuckled walking into your small apartment.

“Sorry.” You apologize.

Leading him into your room, he laughs out loud at how messy your room was. Although it may sound embarrassing, it didn’t bother you at all since you’ve already seen how messy his room can get. Rolling your eyes, you go back into your closet taking out more clothes that either didn’t fit you or didn’t suit your liking. Looking up, you see one last box at the top of your closet. Curiously, you tippy toe up and reach for it, you hands barely grazing the side of the box. You jump up a little and still couldn’t reach it. You turn around lips pursed together as you look at Namjoon with pleading eyes. He laughs before walking over and grabbing the box for you.

“Geez, What’s in here? Rocks?” He asks as he sets the heavy box on the floor.

“Hmm, let’s find out” You reply, sitting down on the floor and opening the big box.

Your eyes widen as you realize that it’s a box full of your old high school things. Namjoon sits down next to you grabbing your senior yearbook.

“Oh wow I haven’t looked at this in so long” You thought out loud, as Namjoon flips through the pages.

You recall memories you had in high school to Namjoon, mostly about old friends and teachers. Suddenly he turns to the sports and clubs section of the yearbook and notices you in almost all the clubs and sports.

“Wow. Cheer captain?” He marveled.

“Yeah....”

“I’m guessing you were really popular back then. How many guys did you date?” he asks curiously.

“None.” you smile.

“Wait. How many exes have you had?”

“None”

“So--I’m your first boyfriend?”

“Yes. Namjoon. You are my first boyfriend”

He chuckles to himself as he wraps an arm around you and kisses you on the cheek.

“So looks like the nerdy guy gets the beautiful cheerleader in the end”

Jin / Kim Seokjin - You are a famous idol part of a rising girl group from a small company almost unheard of. After the release of your debut song, your group gained so many new fans that you felt the need to do a vlive to interact with your fans. A few months before, as trainees, your group got the chance to meet BTS. Giving you guys encouraging advice on your upcoming debut, at the time, you’ve gotten close with Jin. The connection you two had, was indescribable. Soon after, you and Jin started a relationship, that only grew stronger as the days turn into months. When he publicly announced your relationship, the backlash was almost unbearable, making your company second guess the group’s debut date. Luckily another scandal bigger than your relationship with Jin sprouted making everyone turn away from your relationship to focus on other news. When your group debuted the song, it was almost as if all the hate turned into love, as your groups follower count gained more and more.

So here you are sitting in front of your iPhone camera, and answering questions being sent in from your fans.

“Hello everyone! Thanks for joining me today while I eat my dinner” You say into the camera, pulling out a bowl of jajangmyeon.

Putting some of the noodles into your mouth, you keep an eye on the live comments as people commented on how cute you looked. You smiled with cheeks filled.

“I’ll be answering questions now, so send in your questions!” You announce as you stuff your mouth with more noodles. Reading some of the comments, you notice a bunch of “Will you marry me’s” and “I love you’s”.

Smiling, you put up a heart, “I love you too!” you say.

Going through as many questions as you can do, one comment sticks out to you.

“Is Jin the most handsome boyfriend you’ve ever had?”

You smile widely, blushing at the thought of your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s the most handsome boyfriend I’ve ever had, because he’s the only one I’ve ever had”

The comment section over-flooded with cute reactions. Mostly fans fangirling about your relationship. Suddenly, Seoyeon (One of your group members) rushes into your room hold up her phone to your face.

“Yah! Y/n, Sunbaenim’s on the phone!” She exclaims handing you her phone.

Taking the phone from her, you put the phone on speaker, getting closer to the camera.

“Yah! Jagi, Of course I’d be your first boyfriend! You were waiting for someone as handsome as me to claim as your first.”

Suga / Min Yoongi - Late nights with Yoongi was a typical thing for the both of you. You thought instead of parting Yoongi away from his music, maybe you should just join him at the studio. After the first couple of nights, it became a routine, for you to go to Yoongi’s studio right after work. One night after work you picked up some coffee for the both of you and immediately went straight to the studio. Walking into the room, Yoongi spins around on his chair facing you.

“Were you expecting coffee? Cuz I originally wanted to surprise you with this.” You laugh lifting up the cardboard tray.

“No,” he started “I just needed you”

Smiling, you place the coffee on the side table and walk over to Yoongi giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“I need your help with something” Yoongi said with a soft smile.

“What do you need help with?” You ask curiously.

“I’m stuck with this one song I’m working on. It’s about a break up, and I feel like there isn’t enough emotion in it.”

“Yeah?”

“When you and your ex broke up, how did it feel? Did you feel any kind of hurt? Was the hurt painful?” He asked

“Oh,” you say shyly “Uhm, I’ve never had a break up”

“I should’ve expected that you were the heart breaker” He sighs chuckling.

You start to blush at his assumption.

“No... uhm I’ve never been through a break up,” you stated “ever.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock.

“So that means?”

“You’re my first boyfriend.” You smile shyly, as you pull on the sleeves of your hoodie

“Wha-- How? You’re one of he most beautiful girl’s I’ve ever met. Other guys must’ve fawned over you”

“Well...Maybe I didn’t like the other guys”

J-Hope / Jung Hoseok - It was one of those days where you and Hobi would stay at home and do absolutely nothing. You and Hoseok were sitting on the couch watching TV when your phone started to ring. You get up from Hoseok’s side and walk over to the counter to reach your phone. Looking at the number, you tilt your head to the side, not knowing who it was. Answering the facetime call, you see your old friend Doyoon pop up on the screen. You scream in excitement, frightening Hoseok in the process.

“Doyoon! It’s been forever!!” You exclaim

“I missed you too Y/n” he replies smiling at you.

After hearing a deep voice reply, Hoseok rushes over to your side curious to see who you were talking to. Engulfed in your conversation, you didn’t notice Hobi walking toward you, until he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Oh! Hobi, This is my old friend Doyoon” You say showing Hoseok the screen.

“Is this your boyfriend?” He asks

You nod, smiling.

“Y/n and I have been friends since we were in high school. You should’ve seen how the guys worshiped her, she got asked out left and right,” he laughed “Even I asked her out!”

You feel Hoseok tighten behind you.

“But she always rejected everyone! You’re a lucky man” He laughed

You smile as he loosens up. Hoseok lets go of your waist and goes to the kitchen to grab something to drink. You and Doyoon continue to talk, as Hoseok listens quietly.

“You’re modeling now! I saw your photos in a magazine not too long ago!”

“Yeah I’m living the dream! Anyways I have to go, my manager’s calling. I’ll talk to you soon boo-boo”

As you end the call, you see Hoseok leaning against the counter looking down at his drink. You walk around and stand behind Hobi, wrapping your arms around him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, leaning your head against his back.

“I don’t understand why you picked me for your first boyfriend” He sighs

“Why would you say something like that?” You questioned, frowning as you let go to face him.

“Your friend. He’s a model.”

“Hoseok, I couldn’t date him even if I wanted to. Besides I don’t want to be with him, I want to be with you”

“Y/n  you are so beautiful, it’s a miracle that you actually said yes to me. Why wouldn’t you want to be with someone who’s as good looking as you are, like Doyoon?”

You roll your eyes.

“Because he’s gay.”

Hoseok’s cheeks burn red as walks over and hugs you burying his face in your shoulder as he laughs in embarrassment.

“I love you too Hobi” You laugh.

Park Jimin - After visiting your home town, You and Jimin were on the train heading back to Seoul. While you were there, Jimin learned more about your childhood and where you grew up. The second you stepped off the train, you bumped into many of your old classmates, who revealed to Jimin your soaring popularity in high school. Upon hearing this, Jimin was shocked to find out that he was your first boyfriend and questioned how lucky he was to have such a beautiful girlfriend like you. Here you both were sitting side by side on the train back home enjoying the last few hours you had together before going back to the busy city and back to the busy schedules of reality.

Suddenly a random man probably a couple of years younger than you appears by your side, smiling widely. You shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“uh...” You say awkwardly

The guy gasps. You notice his ears starting to get redder and redder by the second.

“You look just like a fairyyy,” he started “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment.

“Oh...Uhm I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are” You say in the most polite way you can.

“Oh gosh. You actually said something to me”

Almost immediately, someone you assumed was his friend, pulls him away apologizing as they walk in the other direction. You quickly turn to Jimin. Your face heated.

“Did that just happen?” You ask confused.

“Trust me, I can’t believe you’re talking to me either” he laughs.

V / Kim Taehyung - It was midnight. You and Tae have yet to fall asleep so here you both were sitting cross legged in front of each other on your bed. You two started off talking about your day at work, but soon after that you talked about almost everything. As soon as you started a new topic about politics, Taehyung groaned falling over to his side and laying on your bed. He takes one of your pillows and props his arm on it, leaning his head on his hand.

“I don’t wanna talk about politics, that’s what old people talk about.” He whined

He sits up again, scooting even closer to you.

“Let’s play 21 questions” he suggests.

“Tae,” You laugh “You already know everything about me”

“Not everything!”

“Fine” You sigh in defeat. “You first”

“Hmm,” He chirped “If you could have any name besides your own what would it be?”

“Uhm...maybe (whatever name you like) because I like the way it sounds” You replied

He smiles, nodding his head.

“Your turn” he says.

“What is something you want to improve on?”

“I want to improve on my drawing” He smiles.

You’ve seen some of his drawings and it always impresses you. How talented this man is, you never understood.

“How many boyfriends have you had?”

“One.” You reply casually.

“I know you were popular in high school! How can you have had only one boyfriend?”

Your cheeks burned a rose color, as you played with your hair.

“I didn’t date anyone in high school”

Taehyung’s eyes widened.

“Wait.”

“You’re my first one” you say hiding your face.

“Jagiyaaaaa” He says hugging you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “Why didn’t you tell me??”

“You didn’t ask” You laugh.

Jeon Jungkook - It was a nice day out. You and Jungkook decided to go out on a walk around the nearby park. Enjoying each other’s company, you two walked in silence. Hand in hand, you lean your head on his shoulder when you hear someone calling your name.

“Y/N!”

Looking up you see a girl around the same age as you running up to you two. You smile politely at her, not knowing who she is. Jungkook looks at you confusingly as you shrug at him, confused as well.

“Y/N!,” The girl exclaims “Hi! It’s been so long”

“Hi” You reply politely with a hint of awkward.

“It’s me! Jihyun, we were both on the cheerleading team in high school”

Your eyes widen as you remember Jihyun, she was one of the cheerleaders you were acquaintances with in high school.

“Jihyun! You look gorgeous! How have you been?” you say.

“I’ve been good!” she smiles, and glances over to Jungkook. Her eyes widen.

“Is this your boyfriend?”

You smile widely at Jungkook, as he pulls you to his side.

“Yes,” you giggle “He is.”

“Oh my gosh! I wish you were in the same high school as y/n and I,” Jihyun starts “She was soooo popular. Almost all the boys asked her out. She even got proposed to”

You feel Jungkook shift uncomfortably next to you.

“How did you get y/n to say yes?” She asked

“Huh?” Jungkook asked confused.

“Yeah! y/n would reject guys left and right.,” she beamed “She even rejected the most popular guy in school”

You look down, shyly as you feel the heat rushing up to your cheeks. Jihyun’s phone buzzes. She looks down at her phone and her eyes widen.

“Oh, It looks like I gotta go,” she apologizes “I hope we could meet up again y/n it was nice running into you.”

Jihyun walks the other way, waving as she left. Suddenly you turn to Jungkook with blushed cheeks. He looks at you adoringly, as his smile grows wider.

“Why didn’t you tell me that I’m your first boyfriend?” He asks.

“You never asked.” You reply laughing.

“So I guess that I’m better than the most popular guy at school”

-Admin Cloud

[lighteyed]

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 

    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute. 

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint. 

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”

    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

[sassasquashedgrapes]

Deep Love: Part One with Intro

Allow me to make an introduction to this fanfic.  I had written this like around 5 or 6 years ago and decided that it was finally time I settled down and got all my fan fiction and some original stories out to print in Tumblrverse coz hey, better late than never.

Glee has long been gone and I decided, why not just throw my hat in the ring for some fan fiction action and so here we are.....

Click below to read this. You might actually stick around for more.  Forgive me, the actual document when I made this included pictures, sadly they don’t work on mere copy paste and I dunno where to find the original files coz it’s been like forever years ago....

Let’s take a review shall we? 

At the start of her senior year, Quinn has dyed her hair pink, pierced her nose, started smoking, become friends with a group of outcast girls called the Skanks, and quit New Directions. Rachel asks her to come back to the glee club and Quinn refuses, though she is later seen secretly watching the glee club perform in the auditorium.

 When Shelby returns to Ohio with baby Beth, she offers Quinn and Puck the chance to become part of Beth's life, but insists that they both start acting more responsibly. Quinn goes back to being blonde and rejoins the glee club, but reveals to Puck that she's only doing it because she intends to win custody of Beth away from Shelby.

 In the second song, Control, she performs the opening speech, and then does backup vocals. In the third song, Man In The Mirror, she does back up vocals. When all their performances end, she seeks out Puck and then she hugs him. When the judges announce that they win, she is very excited and happy. Quinn reveals to Rachel that she isn't going to tell on Shelby because she loves Beth and it isn't in her best interest. She and Rachel admit they are sort of friends and she tells Rachel that she wants to attend the Yale School of Drama. Rachel offers her help if she needs it. In the Girls Bathroom, Quinn talks with Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany, encouraging them to re-join New Directions, but they have their doubts at first, but Quinn states she talked Mr. Schue and Rachel into agreeing that the Troubletones would have at least one number whenever they perform at competitions. In We Are Young Quinn has solo lines, then Mercedes, Brittany, and Santana join the song accepting Quinn's offer. This episode marks the ending of Quinn's Season Three antagonistic storyline so far.

 In Extraordinary Merry Christmas, Quinn is first seen performing back-up vocals during All I Want For Christmas Is You with Mercedes and the rest of New Directions as they decorate the Christmas tree in the choir room. Later, she is seen during Rory's performance of Blue Christmas and is later seated next to Kurt, while Rachel and Blaine sing their original song Extraordinary Merry Christmas. Later, however, we see that instead of being there for the filming of Glee Club's Christmas special, she is serving food

with Sam at the homeless shelter. He says she's gotten better since the previous weeks, and she agrees that she has gotten better and has stopped focusing on the things she doesn't have. Sam says he's glad Quinn turned her act around because she deserves good things, and she says she's trying her hardest to do so. Sue joins their conversation, telling them to be more greedy with their servings to the homeless, though Quinn says there isn't enough food. Later, when New Directions comes in the homeless shelter, she sings along with them to Do They Know It's Christmas? (Feed The World).

 In Michael, Quinn appears dancing and doing back-up vocals in Bad. During the dance partner sequence of Bad, she is partnered with Jeff the Warbler. Later, Quinn is approached by Rachel in the girls bathroom where Rachel asks for advice on what to do regarding Finn's proposal to her, as Quinn is the only person who she trusts to give an honest and thought-provoking answer. Before giving advice, Quinn tells Rachel about her acceptance to Yale, and is extremely excited by it. She then tells Rachel that she should leave her past behind and look towards the future, something that Rachel does not like to hear. However, Quinn persists that in order for her to have a bright future, she has to break it off with Finn. Quinn begins her solo of Never Can Say Goodbye, which is a tribute to all of her ex-boyfriends. In the choir room, the New Directions congratulate Quinn on her acceptance to Yale. Almost in tears, Quinn gives a monologue about how the New Directions have helped her along the way. Then, Quinn (along with the rest of New Directions) perform Black or White to Sebastian and the Warblers.

 In Heart, Quinn rejoins The God Squad (she seems to have left prior to Heart and after The Spanish Teacher à this is where the story arc between her relationship with Iain begins)  In Heart, she meets Joe Hart and is singing "Cherish/Cherish" with him, along with Mercedes and Sam, to the club. Later, she is seen in the choir room listening to Rachel and Finn while they are saying that they will get married; she opposes them along with Kurt; this causes them to be uninvited from the wedding, though Rachel says that he would have 'loved to have seen (Quinn) in a bridesmaid's dress'. She later dedicates Stereo Hearts to Rachel, along with The God Squad, because Finn asked and paid them to perform a song for Rachel. After Santana watched them doing Stereo Hearts, she pays and ask them to sing a song for Brittany. This causes Joe's to doubt if they should do it. After that, she talks with The God Squad about singing to gay people, because Joe's religion causes him to have doubts about it. At Sugar's Valentine's party, they sing Cherish/Cherish for Brittany, in which Quinn has a major solo. Lastly, she is seen dancing (with Joe and others) to Love Shack along with the other invited people.

 In On My Way Sue tells her that she is pregnant. Quinn then gives her some advice; then Quinn asks her if she can rejoin the Cheerios but Sue says no. She appears with The God Squad to talk about the attempted suicide of Dave Karofsky, and as she discusses it with Kurt she gets into an argument with him about it. Later, Quinn is seen with the other New Directions members talking about Dave's issue. She sings back-up vocals in Fly/I Believe I Can Fly and Here's To Us at Regionals. Later, she is seen with Sue again, and Sue tells her that at first she admired Quinn because she reminded her of what she was like when she was young; however, she then tells Quinn that the reason she admires her is because she is different from her. She then gives Quinn the cheerio's uniform. Subsequently, she sees Rachel and tells her that she supports her marriage to Finn, after asking if Rachel's performance of Here's To Us was directed towards 'Finn and only Finn', to which Rachel confirms that it was. At last, she is seen going to Rachel and Finn's wedding but she runs a stop sign, texting Rachel "On My Way" while driving, and is hit by a truck as the episode ends with "To Be Continued" rolling onto the screen.

 In Big Brother, Quinn approaches Finn and Rachel saying that though she is in a wheel chair, she is just happy to be alive and proceeds to race with Artie to the Choir room singing I'm Still Standing with Artie. She then tells the rest of the Glee Club not to feel sorry for her because she is okay and is positive that she will be able to walk again, making a promise to be able to sing and dance with the rest of them at Nationals.

Later while everyone is planning what to do for senior skip day, Rachel starts crying about Quinn being in a wheel chair, partially blaming herself but Quinn reassures Rachel that it wasn't her fault and hugs her. She also then suggests that for senior skip day, the New Directions should go to Six Flags.

 Later Quinn and Artie are seen with Artie encouraging Quinn to make it up a steep ramp on the school campus, cheering her on all the way and she accomplishes the task. Artie then comes up with an idea on how they should spend senior skip day together at a skate park where others like them like to go.

 Quinn later catches Finn while he is texting and walking in the hallway and lectures him on how its not a good idea. She also tells him that she and Artie have plans for senior skip day so she is not able to make it to Six Flags.

 At the skate park with Artie, Quinn is amazed at all the people there that are not letting their handicapped situations get in their way. She and Artie sing at the park. Near the end, Artie brings up that Quinn should maybe get used to being in a wheelchair to which Quinn says is temporary and that she will be able to walk again. Artie asks her what if she isn't able to walk anymore but Quinn is adamant on being able to walk again.

 In an interesting twist to further add sting to her wounds, I inserted the scene where she meets Lily, Iain’s psychotic ex-girlfriend and confronts her. She does end up standing (err..bad choice of word) her ground, leaving Lily to confuse her that whatever transpired between her and Iain are ‘far from over’.

 At school while Quinn is trying to get something out of her locker, some of her books fall out and Joe Hart helps her with them. He then walks with her to class and Quinn is grateful for his company. Joe than tells Quinn that he is praying for her, something she is thankful for until she finds out that he isn't praying for what she thought he was praying for and gets upset. She apologizes and invites Joe to New Direction's Booty Camp in the auditorium where he then joins New Directions.

 In Dance With Somebody, Quinn is approached by Joe where he asks her if he could attend and help her with her physical therapy. They later sing Saving All My Love For You together which can be notably seen as them singing the song to each other. During this song, there are scenes where Joe is helping Quinn with her physical therapy and there is a moment between them. Later in the girls bathroom with the rest of the ND girls, the girls point out how intimate Joe's and Quinn's duet was to which she states that he is not into her like that because at her therapy session when it looked as if he would kiss her, he pulled away. Later in the episode during another scene where Joe was helping Quinn with her therapy sessions, Joe talks about how much he likes Quinn and would maybe give up on his religion just to be with her, something Quinn tells him not to do. They talk about what kind of relationship they have and they are unsure of what kind of relationship it is. She is later seen with the rest of New Directions towards the end singing, My Love Is Your Love happily.

 In Prom-asaurus, Quinn is first seen at physical therapy with Joe, where she uses a parallel bar to assist her with walking. Joe cheers her on but she ends up slipping and falling causing Joe to rush to her side but she is fine because she is laughing. Joe talks to her about showing everyone that she can walk but she states that she wants to keep it quite for a bit to surprise everyone later when she can walk completely once again. As the episode progresses, Quinn is shown to be running for prom queen with Finn running for prom king along side her, something Rachel is not happy about at all. In the Choir room while Brittany explains the theme for senior prom, she announces that Quinn and Santana are in charge of counting the votes for prom king and queen because though they are both running for prom queen, they don't trust the other one so they will keep the other in check. Later on, while Finn is talking to Quinn about prom, a girl approaches Quinn saying that she finds her to be an inspiration, something that Quinn plays on. At prom, Finn walks into the girls' bathroom and sees Quinn standing, he is upset that she didn't tell anyone and accuses her of using her being in a wheelchair as an excuse to get more votes. Quinn begs Finn to stay and during Love You Like a Love Song, Finn gets tired of what he believes is an act and yells at Quinn to stand up and walk causing Joe to come to Quinn's defense. After pushing Joe away at one point Finn bends down to grab Quinn and, presumably, force her to stand. Finn storms off and Quinn has a worried expression on her face. Quinn and Rachel talk about how in the beginning Rachel viewed Quinn as this amazing and beautiful girl and how that veiw has stayed the same but with Quinn being more compassionate. When the time to count votes come, Quinn and Santana find out that Quinn beat her by one vote. Quinn voices that even though she had dreamed of this moment, she doesn't feel any different and the two come up with an idea to give the prom queen crown to Rachel. At the end of the episode, Santana and Quinn sing Take My Breath Away where Quinn stands up during the middle of the song, something everyone is surprised and elated about.

 In Nationals, Quinn and Tina are asked to take over for Mercedes in the Trouble Tones after Mercedes gets sick from eating a bad burrito. This is something Quinn is unsure about but is encouraged by Mr. Shue to do it. Later while everyone is practicing, Quinn is seen to be having trouble with the steps to the dance numbers for the performance. When the competition is about to start and everyone is getting ready to perform, Mercedes comes in feeling a lot better and Quinn sees this as a chance to get out of taking over Mercedes' part but Mercedes insists that Quinn and Tina still perform with the Troubletones. Behind the curtains, Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, known as the Unholy Trinity, have a moment together. Quinn performs Edge of Glory with the Trouble Tones and Tina without trouble. Near the end of the episode, during We Are The Champions Quinn gives Mr. Shue a hug and kiss on the cheek. Quinn hugging Rachel in the season finale episode.

 In Goodbye, she is seen performing the song the graduating members sign to the non graduating members, You Get What You Give and is sadden by the fact that she has to leave her friends. She enjoys the song the non graduates sing to the graduates, In My Life. She later has a voiceover of her high school experience where she sees Puck struggling to study. She talks to Rachel about their friendship in the girl's bathroom. At her house, she helps Puck study and gives him words of encouragement and tell him she loves him as well as a kiss. In Coach Sue's office, Quinn tries to return her cheerios uniform but Sue tells her to keep it. Sue and Quinn talk about how much Quinn has changed and grown up over the years and Quinn tearfully hugs Sue and says that she will miss her. She graduates and near the end is seen saying bye to Rachel while hugging Santana.

 Quinn’s Personality:

 When first introduced, Quinn was the ultimate snarky mean girl. Popular, beautiful, and a complete snob, and was admired by every single boy in the school (not to mention everyone else), Quinn made certain that everyone around her knew who was top dog She feels that being popular is the most important thing and as a cheerleader, she constantly went out of her way to demean those whom she didn't like, and was willing to do whatever she could to demonstrate her superiority. Furthermore, as president of the Celibacy Club, Quinn also revealed herself to be an extreme borderline Bible-thumper, preaching her faith at random periods. Aside from being cold and judgmental, Quinn was also extremely manipulative. She seemed to view anyone and everyone as a potential enemy or pawn to be used. Willing to lie and cheat, Quinn would do anything and everything she could to make sure things worked out in her favor, no matter how they affected others. She went so far as to convince Finn that he was the father of her baby. Quinn is also very petty and easily angered by jealousy, and would do what she could to exact revenge  

 At home, meanwhile, Quinn played the role of "Daddy's Little Girl", always being as sweet and polite as possible, and doing everything she could to hide from her WASP parents all the 'sinful' things she might be doing. After discovering that she was pregnant, however, Quinn began her transformation, thanks, in large part, to the support from the Glee Club.

 Since the beginning, Quinn has had a habit of manipulating Finn. During most of their relationship, whenever the pair of them began to get physically intimate, Quinn would abruptly stop and ask that they pray instead. Although Finn very much wanted to sleep with Quinn, she always refused due to her religious beliefs. Ironically, Quinn ended up having sex with Noah Puckerman when he got her drunk (with wine coolers) and seduced her, resulting in her becoming pregnant. Rather than admit to the truth, Quinn lied to Finn and claimed the baby was his.

 It is also shown that Quinn used to be the same type of person she regularly teases. Before eighth grade, she went by Lucy, was overweight, and a brunette. The other children called her Lucy Caboosey. Quinn took up ballet, gymnastics, and cheerleading to help lose weight. When her father was transferred to Lima and got a raise, Quinn asked her father for a nose job, and then dyed her hair blonde, and asked her parents to refer to her by her middle name; Quinn. She still seems to enjoy bullying Rachel, but she does not seem to go out of her way to bully anyone else.  

 In fact, she seems more empathic towards those who are bullied such as Sam, due to the fact she remembers vividly how it feels. She seems more intent on coming to terms with her prior life, and wants to rebuild herself. This has caused her to be reluctant to start a relationship with Sam, for fear for falling back into old habits regarding men. Quinn is also being forced to act more aggressive than before, due to her continued rivalry with Santana. Her personality has become meaner after her transformation. In the last episode of Season 2, Quinn had a breakdown, crying that she just wanted someone to love her.

 Trivia:

·       She is a Christian and almost always wears a gold cross necklace

·       Usually wears baby-doll dresses. But after her car accident, she wears pants (Trousers)

·       Says that texting while driving is the stupidest thing she's ever done, besides sleeping with Puck

·       Quinn has lived with at least five people in her life. First her parents until Ballad, next Finn from Ballad through Sectionals, then Puck from Sectionals through Funk, then Mercedes from Funk through to Journey, but she lives with her mother from Journey onward

·       Has had three boyfriends on the show and has cheated on two of them (Finn and Sam) with another one of her future or ex-boyfriends (Finn with Puck, and Sam with Finn).

·       Her MySpace name is 'SkySplits'.

·       She can play the piano!!  (But of course not as well as Iain ^_^ )

·       Her cold stare and raised eyebrow is said by both her portrayer, Dianna Agron and the show's creator, Ryan Murphy, to be a slight homage to Bette Davis' character, Margot Channing in "All About Eve".

·       She gets angry when she is drunk

·       She has been single for a whole season. (Season Three) à possibly Iain’s involvement J

·       (Between On My Way and Big Brother), Quinn’s accident caused her to have leg paralysis.  This is because a Spontaneous Spinal Epidural Hematoma was found in her routine MRI scan. Iain voluntarily covered for her immediate surgery by providing her the best team of Neurosurgeons; he personally paid for the doctors’ airfare, accommodations, professional fee with overtime pay. Despite being rejected by Quinn, he also hired a renowned Rehab doctor who has been keeping close tabs with her progress and reports regularly to him, thus he was able to make it to Prom-asaurus. Iain never tells her the extent of his contribution to her operation and her rehab sessions.  All this is revealed when Quinn meets Iain’s great grandmother, Genevieve.

·       Quinn speaks some French, hence she was able to partially understand some of the conversation between Iain and Chelsea.

·       Because of her operation, Quinn’s tattoo of Ryan Seacrest was grossly disfigured.  She had it removed as a graduation present from her parents.

·       Iain stayed a total of 3 days with Quinn during her confinement.  He barely slept as he watched over her.  Amy, Quinn’s ICU nurse is the only person who is immune to Iain’s good looks and calls him a ‘bother’.

·       Iain finds out about the accident from Quinn’s mother, Judy when she calls him during a business meeting where he abruptly leaves.

·       The love story prologue is during the Season 2 Finale: New York.  

·       The storyline when Quinn is accepted to Yale and meets Iain is during Michael (Season 3 Episode 11).  In Spanish Teacher (Episode 12 Season 3), Iain lives with her thus further complicating things.  God Squad is also formed sometime before Spanish Teacher and after Michael, as Quinn uses this as an excuse to meet Neil, Iain’s younger brother. Iain leaves Ohio during the time of Heart, which explains why Neil is no longer present during the show,s first meeting with Joe and God Squad.

·        Episode dates are as follows: Michael (occurs late January), Spanish Teacher (February 7), Heart (Feb 14) Hence, spanning almost 2 weeks.

·       On My Way (Feb 21) and Big Brother (April 10)

·       Prom-asaurus happens during May (May 8 to be exact). Almost 3 months after Quinn’s accident when Iain returns to Ohio one last time to tell her how he really feels about her.  He looks slightly disheveled because he had just left from a Global Trade Meeting, he found himself asking several times what he was doing, what compelled him to walk out during the event to leave several people who needed his opinion to take the first available flight to Ohio, how he managed to endure sitting in the only available seat where he was sandwiched between a grossly obese man who smells like salami and a woman with an irate baby who cried the entire flight, he also asked why he jerked the first person out of the backseat of a taxi because he was afraid he’d get there too late.

·       The song Quinn and Iain dance to is called “Science & Faith” by the Script and was sung as an acoustic cover duet by Puck and Tina.  Their story concludes at an actual concert of the Script in New York where the song is played again.

·       Iain’s true identity is revealed when Quinn sees his cover featured story on Newsweek during her train ride to Connecticut where a girl passenger compares him to Christian Grey, the titular character of 50 Shades of Grey where the concept of Iain was roughly based from.

 ·       That’s some serious Bling!: The bracelet “wrist corsage” Iain puts on Quinn’s arm during their dance is called the Osieaux de Paradis (Birds of Paradise) 2011 collection by the luxury brand Van Cleef & Arpels.  It’s a craft bracelet set in white gold and features pink sapphires and a medley of diamonds weighing a total of 8.64cts and costs roughly US $148,000.  Iain bought the bracelet while he was in London because the color of the stones reminded him of the nightgown Quinn wore while he watched her sleep.  

 ·       It is later revealed that he bought the entire Birds of Paradise by Van Cleef & Arpels set after Prom-asaurus.

·       The third dumbest thing Quinn confesses to doing was almost letting Iain go.

·       Since Prom-asaurus, Quinn and Joe’s relationship fizzled.  We can then conclude that this was because Quinn also starts to admit to herself that she has feelings for Iain as well.

·       During Graduation, Quinn tells Puck she loves him, this is because he is the father of Beth and he will always have some part in her life even if it means that they weren’t meant for each other in the end. When she kisses Puck to boost his morale, there’s a double ended meaning as this also signifies the conclusion of their tumultuous relationship.  It also shows that Quinn has finally matured and moved on

·       From the time that Iain and Quinn are to see each other since Prom-asaurus that’s a total of one year and a half.  Iain does not contact Quinn as he wants her to admit that she loves him.  They get their answer after in an accidental meeting in a concert in New York.  This is long enough for Quinn to also get over the hurt she felt when she found out that Iain was a billionaire tycoon during her train ride to Connecticut in (Graduation Season 3 finale).   She then meets Dean David Pendleton who told that she did not earn the Dramatic Arts scholarship but assured her that her tuition was paid in full by a ‘mysterious benefactor’ who auctioned off the sportscar he won in a silly bet a few years ago. (Iain sold his beloved McLaren sportscar and used the auction money).  She forgives him after being confronted by Genevieve, Iain’s dragon scary great-grandmother and she learns the shocking truth about Iain’s financial involvement for her operation and recovery after her accident.

 Songs used:

·       In My Head, Jason Derülo

·       High Heels, Ryuichi Sakamoto

·       Liebesträume No 3 (Dreams of Love), Franz Lizt

·       Polonaise in G minor, Frederic Chopin

·       Polonaise in G Flat Major, Frederic Chopin

·       Nocturne in C Minor, Frederic Chopin

·       Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor Adagio Sostenuto, Sergei Rachmaninoff/ All by Myself, Eric Carmen feat. Celine Dion

·       Silence is Easy, Starsailor

·       Do You Realize?? , The Flaming Lips

·       Beautiful (7” Inch Canny Mix), Mandalay

·       Walking on a Dream (Kids at the Bar Remix), Empire of the Sun

·       Famous, Scouting for Girls

·       Science & Faith, the Script

·       Eve, Apple of My Eye; Bell X1

·       Deep Love, Mandalay

·       Midnight City, M83

 Note: Iain and Quinn’s storyline transpires somewhere after the Michael episode and ends before the valentine special, Heart (where Quinn was visibly absent and sans melodrama, thus creating the perfect scenario explaining her ‘missing scenes’.

 I got inspired to write it around the time of the finale of Season 2 because I felt that she needed her own happy ending.  And let’s face it, I’m a hopeless romantic, so I figured that perfect special guy for her wasn’t hanging around the halls of McKinley High.  (Who doesn’t want a rich, handsome young billionaire?)

 Anyway, I thought New York would be a great prologue to go with and I’m assuming this lovestory of theirs takes around a total of 3 weeks duration, which cuts short when Iain finds Neil and has left Lima during “On My Way”.

 This scene (Season 2 Finale: New York) was what started it all and inspired me to write this story.

 “Or maybe she’s just distracted by the awesomeness of New York.”—Rachel Berry

 …I’d like to believe that guy on the left was what kept her distracted.  I know I would be too if I were Quinn..

   When Quinn gets into an accident, Iain returns only to be pushed away by an angry Quinn.  Despite Quinn’s wishes for him to leave her alone, he comes back just in time to witness   the progress of her therapy in Prom-asaurus and tells her he’s in love with her and that he’s willing to wait forever for her.  The epilogue takes place when Quinn is in Yale.

 Poor Quinny, you can stop crying because you’re about to have a very nice happy ending J

It’s funny because I started Iain off as a ridiculously rich tycoon businessman who was also a talented pianist that wanted to be a music composer.  Fast forward some months later while I still in the middle of writing this fanfic, I came across the popular book called 50 Shades of Grey, and to my surprise, there were so many things that struck me because both male protagonists had shared a lot of qualities that I found delightful and great for this story....well except for the BDSM kinky part.  

 “Little Red Orange Coat girl” couldn’t stand staying in the hotel room longer listening to Brittany sing a jingle about a cup.  She looked pretty rarin’ to leave and explore New York and I’m sure the men below who’ve inspired me to write Iain seems like a very, very legit reason.

  I even would like to think of him as part Damon Salvatore (after all, Rachel Berry did mention him), Spanish male model Andres Velencoso, Josh Hartnett’s character from August, Christian Grey, and Younghusband brother.  It’s a hard mix, I know, but I had so much  fun figuring out how that was gonna work and I’m glad to think that I’ve done it successfully so. I have to admit that Iain’s name does sound like Christian’s even down to the surname but I swear that it’s purely coincidental!

  “You can stop with the waterworks, girl.  Have you seen the dreamy men that have inspired the author to create the man of your dreams?” – Auntie Santana.  

(Scene taken when Quinn starts crying and wanting someone to love her………Wish granted in five…four….)

 Project: Becoming Iain Hargreave

(tsk, tsk….Lucky Quinn)

 I figured Iain is a much tamer, saner version but just as equally captivating that he doesn’t come off boring. Plus the story of a man who built a company around a website in these very uncertain economic times, really piqued my curiosity.  Iain’s character was actually more centered around Josh Hartnett’s character in the Indie movie, August, where he plays Tom Sterling, the fast paced, smooth talking leader of the e-commerce revolution.  Aside from the hard, party boy and shrewd businessman exterior, Hartnett manages to make Tom likable, vulnerable even that he has an Achilles heel for some unrequited relationship that never worked out because of the sacrifices he had to make in order to save his empire.  I felt that Iain should share the same qualities, but with a far more complex depth that screams tortured society boy, self-made billionaire alpha male.

Iain Hargreave arrives at McKinley High initially as a substitute teacher, but is moved to teach at the Night School as his good looks serve more as a distraction to the female students.  He temporarily replaces Brad the pianist for the Glee Club (yes, there is actually a guy who plays the piano for New Directions).  Not much is known about the young, handsome and charismatic pianist except that he unwittingly becomes the object of most of the girls’ attention.  Quinn Fabray is peeved because Iain is her supervised guardian/tutor for her ticket to a Yale Scholarship.

   Though try as she might to do anything to push him away, their paths are inevitable. Not only does she have to see him at glee club practice she also sees Iain at home since he’s also living with her. Feeling as if both need to reconcile their differences before things turn ugly, they form a temporary truce, at least for appearances sake. Throughout the course of the first few episodes of the season, it can be shown that though they claim to dislike each other, they are very much attracted to each other.  Other fellow Glee members are aware of this however refuse to mention it with the exception of Rachel, who points it out to Iain when she needed his help composing a song for sectionals .  Finn also is annoyed with Iain, because he notices how mean he is with Quinn, but they form a truce as Finn becomes aware of the attraction between his ex-girlfriend.  He then tells Iain to promise him that he wouldn’t hurt her because the last thing Quinn needs is a broken heart after what he did to her.

 Little does everyone in McKinley know that Iain faces his own internal conflict.  His sole purpose to arriving to McKinley was to look for his long, lost brother who was separated when their father divorced their mother.  Despite his posing as a person of middle class, he is extremely wealthy, having come from a school that has Prince Charles as an alumnus and being raised in cities like London and New York. His great grandfather composed a hit Christmas song and the jingle of the Coke theme, he’s been receiving the royalties and used the money to invest in computers and batteries for cellular phones which the amount has quadrupled making him one of Forbes Richest People Under 21.  He also studied Business Management in Harvard with a minor in Computer Sciences but dropped out a few months before his graduation as he saw that there was no point in doing so as this was never his interest and that he made off with more money than all what his professors made combined with life interest.  

 Iain is also very athletic, highly intelligent and is fluent in Mandarin, French, and Spanish.  He had a girlfriend, Lilly, (who is part Chinese and Dutch, which explains why he can speak Mandarin) who became a model/actress and left him to pursue her career.  He shows signs that he’s also capable of destructive behavior such as nearly getting himself expelled after “mooning” the Duchess of Cambridge during his school’s graduation, where he had graduated top of his class and came to school so stoned that he couldn’t remember getting onstage but knew that after he showed off his bum, Kate Middleton wasn’t offended and seemed to have enjoyed the show. In reality, Iain felt no remorse when his girlfriend left as he felt that he had nothing in common with her.  He only did the things that at the time he thought was expected out of him. Apparently, Quinn Fabray isn’t the only one person who likes to create appearances for the sake to fool other people.

·       *                *

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t bored.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he ever had as much fun as the last two weeks that transpired.  He had written off that finding his brother was going to be a challenge, and perhaps a tedious chore.  Who knew he was going to end up enjoying himself and have an amazing time during the entire stint.  It baffled him and didn’t make sense at all.  It hit him suddenly that he hadn’t been bored.

 There was something about Quinn that Iain couldn’t place. With her innocent sexiness, clear intelligence, wit, and vulnerability that’s got him hooked.

 For the past twenty four years not to mention that he’s been working his ass off like a dog since he took over his own company, boredom was a part of his life that he had treated it like an occupational hazard. Some people got allergies, contact dermatitis, he suffered from inevitable amounts of ennui.  He had been so used to it that these past few days have felt like a band-aid had finally been removed.

 Of course, no one knew that he suffered from this problem. Iain had learned long and hard that whining was for losers.  Genevieve Rolf-Stuart had taught him that, when she berated and publicly humiliated him for crying when he was had first moved to England when he was less than five years old because he missed his mother.  She had done the same thing and worse when he was an angry preteen who had constantly gotten himself into fights and came home beaten and bloodied up. She sent him to Scotland in hopes that he would straighten up, which of course, he had.

 He would never do that again, he shuddered.  He had moved on, erased whatever painful memories transpired during his parents’ separation and their nasty divorce, he had gotten the chance to prove himself and succeeded.  He done everything a man could only dream to achieve and he hadn’t even reached his 25th birthday.

 Here he was, with everything he’d ever wanted.  And if sometimes when it got to be too much of the same old, same old, Iain sucked it up and shut his mouth.  Faking being on top of the world was pretty easy especially when people already accepted that fact in your life, he mused silently as he gazed intently at the huge window that had overlooked Manhattan in his large office.

 He tried to remember when he had last laughed, like in really laughed out of the sheer heck of it?  He couldn’t remember.  Until that time when he and Quinn shared their time together in iHOP and her obvious jealousy with other women’s attentions to his looks had tickled something deep in his gut that he couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a simpleton.

 Quinn was like a breath of fresh air.  She was anything but boring, her reaction towards him were genuine.  Most of the time he knew she had kept a mask to hide her vulnerability.  He saw that when he walked in one of those night classes she stubbornly insisted to attend during his first week in Ohio.  He also saw the regal, imposing way she carried herself when he accompanied her during Glee club practice.  She’d put up this image of being a flighty, spoiled, manipulative queen bee, but Iain knew better.  If he hadn’t seen her looking so sad in that lobby in New York at his hotel, if he hadn’t seen that vulnerable lonely girl who looked like she needed love or at least could use a hug, he probably wouldn’t have given her the time of day.  But he did, and when she looked back at him, all wide-eyed like a child being told that Christmas had come early, it hit him like a thunderbolt and gave a jumpstart to his cold unfeeling heart.  He’d seen the same looks women gave, but he could never recall any one of them who made him feel like as if he’d given her a gift.

 He really should forget about her, he shook his head.  He knew that she was too young and still had to experience life because that is what people her age do.

 And here he was, sitting on his office, two weeks passed by since Ohio and he could think of little else but her.  Hell, he couldn’t even stop thinking about her.    

   *                *                *

Prologue: Quinn New York City a year before....

 Everyone is excited for Nationals.  The whole feel of New York City, the bright lights, the glamour, Broadway, and the fact that Rachel Berry was stupid enough to purchase tickets from a homeless guy just made my day.

 This would have been easier if I didn’t get to see that dumb look on Finn’s face whenever he’s with Rachel.  Sometimes, I do wonder what I ever did see in him.   But right now, I feel like something that had been rightfully mine has been taken away from me.

 To tell you honestly, I think I’ve been feeling a lot like that for some time, though I refuse to analyze this part during this entire trip.  New York definitely is my ticket out of Lima, Ohio.  I scan the interior of the hotel we’re staying at, the Intercontinental. Not as grand as the Waldorf, but with the budget New Directions has I’m even pleased that we’re at least staying somewhere with a three star rating.  Mr. Schuester is busy making the room arrangements and you can bet Kurt is going to be bunking with us tonight despite the Boys and Girls division line.

 Everyone is busy and the mood is cheerful as we all try and settle in the lobby.  I steal looks at Finn and Rachel and something uneasy settles.  They’re happy, so together.  Why can’t I for once have something like that?  A few months before the whole teen-mom issue, I had it all. I was the untouchable head of the Cheerios Quinn Fabray, didn’t I deserve at least something after all I’ve been through?

 I feel like the universe is telling me something.

 Then it hits me.  Like a tidal wave of tsunamic proportions, I see a tall dark-haired handsome young man sauntering in the lobby in a dark grey suit, white linen shirt and dark navy blue silk tie that contrasts his bronzed skin and dark, almost black brown hair.  On his back, is a black expensive leather messenger bag that slings carelessly on his shoulder like it was meant to hang stylishly.  His entire ensemble looks expensive, trendy age appropriate and custom-fit for a business executive with an edge.  He also looks to be a lot older; I’m thinking he’s in his early to mid twenties. Then, as if the fates wheeled in my favor, he turns his head towards my direction.

 It’s when our eyes meet I felt as if time stopped.

 The intensity of our deadlock makes me only aware of the beating of my own heart and my breathing.  

 I am also aware that he has stopped in midstride and looks at me with an expression that borders between curiosity, intrigue, and something else indefinable at the moment.

  I am faintly aware that I can also hear Jason Derülo’s “In My Head” blasting through the speakers of Mercedes’ headphones.  I boldly keep staring as he resumes his stance and approaches towards the lobby. His dark hair matches the tanned, angular handsome face that is a bit flushed, as if he just jogged a block away to the hotel.  

 Suddenly at the back of my mind I start to wonder if the tan is a result from staying out in the sun for prolonged periods or is it slight hint of a mixed race somewhere distant down his family tree.  Perhaps Spanish or Greek, judging by the shock of dark brown, almost black hair that compliments his tan.  I focus on his eyes instead because the thought of him being tan all over is a dangerous distraction.  Even from a distance I can tell you the color of his piercing almond-shaped eyes because that electric blue Carribean sea color is a striking contrast to his tanned, angular face.  I can also tell you that he’s also physically fit because the suit he’s wearing shows off a body that women would love to know what’s underneath. My mouth suddenly feels dry as I think how those muscles ripple underneath that long, lean body. He then leans his head a little with a hint of a smile on his chiseled lips, almost as if he was thinking if we have ever met.  Though I sincerely doubt this particular Adonis would ever be caught dead in a place like Lima, Ohio.

 “Quinn!” Santana breaks the deadlock.  “We have to go, Mr. Schue’s looking for us.  What are you looking at?”  She checks out the direction where I’m staring but doesn’t seem fazed like as if she doesn’t notice the gorgeous young dark haired man who made a beeline towards the reception lounge and is now talking to the concierge.

“Nothing.” I tell her as I grab my luggage and hull it.  I wait as Schuester goes on and drones about forming a line.  Is this guy for real?  He treats us like a bunch of kindergarten kids.

 I give myself a mental shake and scan the lobby again, but the guy I’m looking for is gone.

   Chapter 1: Iain

Present day.

 Where am I?

That was the first thought that crosses my mind the moment I open my eyes.  I wait for the hangover, but when I realize that it isn’t there, I scan the room.  It is a small, compact, neat space with dark blue curtains that complements the light blue gray carpet.  I wake up in my boxers (though I don’t mind sleeping on my birthday suit) and find that the double bed is adorned with a matching navy, black and gray sheets.  

 I flick my wrist automatically to check for the time. When I see that I no longer possess my Rolex, the thought comes crashing back with a painful memory that is even worse than any bloody hangover I’ve had whether it be at a New York nightclub or a night out partying (with a D) in Chelsea, London.

 I’m in Ohio.

 My name is John Maximiliain Charles Sheridan Hargreave. I’m 24 years old and my life is a complete fucking mess.

 As it were, it’s just me and the music.

 Music has always been a big part of my life.  When I was 3, my grandfather was a staunch believer in the Suzuki theory.  He taught me how to play the piano by getting me a small Weinstein the size of a Shetland pony and in less than a week, I could play Solace from the Robert Redford movie the Sting.  John William Hargreave, despite his billionaire status was a still regular bloke from North Carolina who had an uncanny talent in creating musical jigs. They’re what we Brits call theme songs. At the age of 20, he created the ever popular Christmas song “Santa’s Reindeer Rocket” which to this day still receives heavy airplay and not to mention heavy royalties.  I’ve been to FAO Schwarz and they’ve played that bloody song like it was their Christmas anthem.  Which I hate to brag, it is.  On top of that, he also created the ditty used in the Coke commercials, which is still popular to this very day.  

 I was really close to Pop (a name I pegged out for my granddad). My parents married when they were too young and my mother had an affair with a social climbing horseman, while my father made millions off for mass producing defunct spy cameras for home use. I’ve been raised by almost anyone who bothered, so that left my grandfather who still enjoyed playing the piano despite his arthritis.  He was a remarkable man with a keen sense and steady hands which he claimed he would’ve probably even had been a surgeon, if things were different.

 In other words, apart from my obvious sheltered life, Pop was what the yanks called a blue collar sort.  He grew up poor in a small town but after serving in the war and going to Yale to pursue a business course, where he met my rich, socialite heiress grandmother, Constance.  He doubled the family fortune by investing in successful stocks which are still worth a lot to this present day.  

 In spite of the working-class stigma, my great-grandfather turned to music as his source of comfort and created the most memorable Christmas jig to exist during his time.  He wasn’t dim-witted either, he patented the song and copyrighted everything before any producers could get their greedy hands on it.  He dabbled in music by telling me stories of how he snuck in to Jazz bars when it was considered taboo for a white man to hang around blacks.  He even helped the career of bigtime jazz artists of which I won’t mention as it’s a long list, but heckuva prominent one if I ever did recall. In other words, my grandfather was a firm believer in dreams.

 “Iain, always believe in your dreams, no matter what people say.  A man should never be dictated of his life, even despite circumstance.” he once told me when I was seven years of age, a year before my parents’ divorce.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the last time I ever saw of him.  Pop was a chronic smoker and died of complications from emphysema.  I had decided then that I was never going to smoke a fag.  I also played a song by Ryuichi Sakamoto during his wake.  Everyone was moved to tears by my talent.  I almost imagined my great-grandmother Alice shed a tear at that time.

 It was either my piano playing that did it or maybe it was because all the royalties that came from my grandad’s songs which he had placed in a trust fund was left entirely solely to me.  Pop also invested largely in stock in a company called Apple electronics when he sold his old funds from Virgin records after a winning a legal dispute over mass producing the Coke theme without him getting any credit.  

 I have since then have the miracle of iPod to thank for since the worth has quadrupled along with the royalties that Pop receives annually. I even tried a hand in dabbling some of the money and invested in cellular phone batteries and developed a game software about running a business, so pretty much the business acumen and money foresight is something inherent to us Hargreaves.

 By the time I had reached my 12th birthday, I was a billionaire. Add that with a couple of “good investments” I’ve suggested which my father’s good friend and my grandfather’s trusted advisor, Mark Wallace complied, my millions turned into easy billions. It all seems like a really good idea except that I don’t get to touch everything until I’m 21 years of age. Well, since then you’d think that I’m living in the lap of luxury.

 Wrong.

 I decide that I’m not going to be stupid and spend carelessly. Growing up in luxury and following a set of rules has always been something that I’ve been used to.  For once, living in small town America where nobody gives a shit on whether you’ve gone to the finest schools in the world, drive a luxury car, and own anything that only people could dream of is for me one hell of an education.  I don’t have to worry about watching my back for any pap that’s going to take my picture if I pick my nose and find it on cover of the New York Tattler the next day. I don’t even have to worry if some crazy person jumps at me and decides to use me for ransom.

 For now, I can be just a normal guy named Iain.

 At least I can relax and play the piano more often than I did for the past two years. Music had always been there, even on the sidelines as I scored my first goal at any match.  It was also there when I had scored off-field with my girlfriend, Lily, who eventually broke up with me to become a globe-trotting fashion model. Last I heard was she was dating a photographer who looked to be twice our age.  I wasn’t bitter.  She did occasionally cheat on me.  Not that I was the loyal boyfriend sort either.   I was like a celebrity at my boarding school so it was no surprise that I got regular visits from other birds at the dormitory.  Being at a co-ed boarding school during those trying times as a teenager definitely took the fun out of those rampages one sees at a stereotypical American university.

 Once the thought of University comes, I think of Harvard and the time I spent there, thinking it was bollocks and a waste of time.  What did I have to learn from a bunch of stodgy professors whose annual earnings is what I could roughly make in an hour?   Only a few months more of dealing with this hellhole and I’m out of here, I tell myself as I still lie on bed and link my arms behind my head.  

 Then I think about the whirlwind of events that occurred these past few months that lead me here to Lima.

 It started out as a regular day at work.  I was in the office, considering the latest merger and preparing to attend an International Trade Conference where I was selected as one of the prime cabinet members.  I was also the youngest chosen and there was no way in hell I was going to fuck up and make a mess out of my position.  So I did my homework when I came across an article about the economic status of a factory in Ohio.  One of the pictures included a young woman with pale blonde hair swept neatly in a ponytail.  She looked dead familiar.

 My mother had a twin.  

 I barely remember anything about my mother as I had blocked memories of her the day she walked out of our lives.  I felt at that time, it was a lot easier doing so than having to deal with the melancholy, something that my dad carried until the day he died. But curiosity overcame my desire to just shut this information out, so I did my research.

  I have to tell you, being a kid who comes from a family of computer and information technology investors, of course hacking and all the gizmo talents come naturally to me just as playing songs on the piano by wee do.  So in a matter of a few hours, I located my aunt and found a bit of startling information.

 When I heard that my mother had died a few years ago, I was told by my grandparents that it was from complications from lung cancer.

 But what they didn’t tell me (perhaps they too were unaware like my father) was that my mother also had left a will to a boy named Neil.

 Neil Jacob Sheridan Hargreave was born exactly 6 months after she left my father.

 Somewhere in this town, I had a brother. A family whom even my own money hungry, socialite-elitist family have long kept a secret and were unwilling to open Pandora’s box for the fear of being scrutinized.  If I had a conversation with my great grandmother Genevieve, she would have told me to drop it as looking for this teenager and raising him into a world he was never accustomed to would not only prove difficult, but futile.  

 Something inside me can’t just let this go.  Somewhere, a few miles from this place, I have a younger kid brother unaware of this painful truth.  If ever Luna told Neil anything about his father’s background, he would have probably heard horror stories about my snobby family, which was true except that I’m nothing like them.  Judging from the information I’ve gotten so far, he and my aunt were living in one of the poorer sides of town and went to McKinley High.

 I check the time on my alarm clock and swear a mouthful.

 I’m late!

*** Chapter2: Quinn on her first day of school, senior year...

 I check myself at the mirror before I leave.

 It’s a force of habit.  My entire life, I’ve been living out of everyone’s expectations.  It was two years ago when my life was perfect. I was Captain of the Cheerios, I had the star quarterback as my boyfriend though he wasn’t the brightest bulb in Ohio, I downplayed the ultimate girl-next-door by joining the Celibacy Club.  I was literally on top of the world.

 Then I just had to get pregnant.

 My boyfriend wasn’t the father, his then-best friend was.

 Because of my predicament, I was forced out of my beloved Cheerios uniform.

 I joined Glee Club and had to listen to Rachel Berry whine and moan about how much she deserved her solos.  Though granted she’s talented, she still annoys the hell out of me.

Especially now that Finn chose her over me.

 I mean, seriously what’s wrong with the world these days? It’s like suddenly the universe does a 360 degree Linda Blair and suddenly the geeks inherited the earth. If I could have a Do-Over Year this could have been the best time to ask for it.

 I’m quoting clichés, great.  I check the mirror again and find that my dark mascara is still perfectly applied.  My lips are well glossed, as it helps keep away from the nicotine stains.  It isn’t anything out of the ordinary though lately I’ve noticed myself to be wearing a lot more black outfits and have dark pink hair.

 It’s a phase I’m going through.  I just got dumped and took it out on my hair.  Perfect female behaviour, I rationalized to my then hysterical mother.  My mom is such a drama queen.  Since Dad left her for a younger tattooed encrusted woman, I’m all she ever obsesses about when she’s sober.  That was until my sister suffered a mental breakdown after she broke her engagement when she found out her beloved fiancée was a closeted bisexual.  Lately she’s been bunking around the homestead so fortunately for me, I’ve been out of Mom’s radar.

 But that doesn’t mean I’m out of the woods yet.  In a few days, I’ll be back in the walls of McKinley High once again and I’m sure everyone is dying to find out whatever happened to Quinn Fabray after being dumped by the school’s football hero for a Barbara Streisand deadringer.  Picking on the school’s gossip radar, I’m sure I’ll be the one topic on people’s mouths.

 Though this year, I’m making a few changes.

 I’ve decided not to return to Glee Club.  Come on, I almost did try and sabotage the Regionals when I went A-wall in New York.  Though I harbour no ill feelings towards other Glee members, the mere thought of hanging around just now seems pointless.

 These days, I’m doing a Madonna and reinventing myself. The pink hair, the Ryan Seacrest tramp stamp tattoo and punk Material Girl-esque outfits are just the beginning. I head out and take my car and drive myself uptown to meet up with my new found friends.  Since post-Regionals, I’ve found myself hanging with Sheila and and a group of meanest, nastiest girls in McKinley.  They call themselves the Skanks.   Santana has lost her edge, as to what reason I could honestly care less and I really don’t think I want to know either; I do miss having a minion. Brittany, on the other hand, has an IQ lower than that of a common flea.  Sheila is the manipulative, don’t-mess-with-me sort that combined with the angst of a sophomore, adds to the perfect right hand man.  

 “Hey bitch!” Sheila waves her hand as I make my way to school and go under our usual spot underneath the bleachers to smoke. We rule in and out of school grounds.  

 I take a long exhale and pretend to look bored.  I scan along the sea of familiar faces hurrying inside the school building and shrug when no one catches my interest.  As much of a loser town Lima can be, nothing out of the ordinary ever happens.  Even the local townies are the same old people I ran into since I was in diapers. I also pretend to listen to Mack go on about her typical day.  A whiny, angry girl who makes out with almost anyone is the perfect diversion to let everyone know how interesting our lives and care less about anything.  In reality, for me to care less about anything makes me feel numb.

 And feeling numb is all I need about now.

 *** Chapter 3: Iain

 I park my motorcycle and look at my surroundings. So this is what it’s like to stuck in a John Hughes movie, I smirk as I take in the sight of high school kids scurrying about as they run inside the school premises.  Unlike my old school in Britain, we wore stuffy uniforms and had a zero-tolerance policy which kept our uniforms, well, uniform.  

 On the outside, we may have all looked the same, but it’s really no different from any regular school.  We had our own versions of the jocks, the nerds, the social outcasts. Though culturally, we were a bit more civilized compared to a public government-run highschool.  I notice that one kid with messed afro hair being harassed by a group of males in lettermen jackets.  The boy with the weird hair gets dumped in the garbage bin, as my eyes widen in horror.  I look around to see if anyone interferes or calls out for attention.  Sadly, no one notices, almost as if this were a common occurrence.  

 If this were at my former school in Scotland, those jocks would have definitely been expelled.  No matter what circumstance, even if their mother was the bloody Queen of England, my school other than having a zero-tolerance uniform policy also advocated a very strict zero-tolerance in bullying.  Which was probably the reason why most royals sent their kids to my alma matter.  You have no idea what kind of rubbish the Sloane Rangers (see British derogatory slang term for someone with peerage living in the elitist part of London) take from the commoners.  Given to the fact that history makes them wear ridiculously heavy crowns definitely is not the definition of cool where I come from.

 I distract myself and notice a group of girls in their red and white cheerleader uniforms.  One of them looks at me and gives me that saucy look before whispering to her friend who also checks me out.  I shake my head and ignore them.  The last thing you want is to be accused of statutory rape, I tell myself under my breath as I grab my sling bag and head off to the Principal’s office.  I have a brief talk with the secretary who looks equally as flustered as the cheerleaders and find myself face to face with a middle-age, portly man of ostentatious Indian descent.  I hand in my credentials.  He reads them briefly and takes his time interviewing me.  

 “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Principal Figgins says.  My body stiffens in defensive mode. Oh god, what did Dr. Heussaff, my old high school Headmaster say about me this time? My grades were bloody impeccable, my conduct (before my graduation incident where I flashed Kate and Pippa Middleton before accepting my diploma) was perfectly flawless, I was a Prefect at the top dormitory.  I was a star pupil on the outside, but an apparent mess inside.

 “Really, sir?” I answer slowly, expecting the drop of the shoe at any moment.

 “Dr Heussaff spoke very highly of you.    He says that it was your personal choice to teach Music to underprivileged children.  I am just curious why you chose America, especially Ohio?”

 Because Heussaff obviously was high with from smoking weed and possesses a sick sense of humor.   Well, I don’t really tell him that, instead, I flash a sincere smile and prepare my soliloquy, which I had practiced dozens of times in front of the mirror.

 “I was born in London but my parents are American so I carry with me dual citizenship.  Unlike Britain, where our government supports the arts for public schools and grants scholarships with an estimated 30 million pound annual budget, I figured that my birth country could use someone of my talent. I’ve also done my research and found that Ohio is one of the states that holds the least priorities in the arts, so I’ve made it my personal mission to change at least a few minds.”

 “We’re sadly in the middle of a recession, so you probably wouldn’t be limited to simply just teaching music.  As it was, due to the suspicious behavior of our previous music teacher, Sandy Ryerson, we are having our own doubts so as to encourage the arts as part of the curriculum.”

 Whoa, say what?

 “But, sir.” I interject, slightly losing a bit of my cool for a brief moment.   I place myself in check, hoping that I don’t lose it. Keep, calm Hargreave, remember that you’re here to look for your brother.  “Does this mean, music as a class is out?  Surely you have other extracurricular activities that doesn’t particularly involve having a student smash his brains out with a helmet?”

 “We do, in fact, have a Glee club, but that’s already headed by William Schuester.  The least I can do for you is have you teach History, since our last substitute teacher has left.  You can also teach French, seeing that you have scored A* in your A levels of foreign languages.  Perhaps, maybe also be an assistant to the football team with their coach, Shannon Beiste.” “You mean football, sir like the ones with helmets and touch downs I presume?  You do realize sir that the football I’ve participated in is World Cup material, not Super Bowl.”

 “Well, it’s one and the same.  We’re in budget and the annual teacher’s strike isn’t going to disappear so we really could use all the sources we can get at minimal cost.  This is why I’m placing you in front and center. Besides, you seem like a confident young man who has it all figured out, I’m sure you can handle yourself perfectly well in a classroom setting.  Welcome to McKinley High.” He gives a warm smile before he offers to give my dumbfounded self a handshake in order to seal my impending doom.

 God, could this guy be a real tool or what?  

 Two days later I’m reassigned to teaching night school. Apparently, it had something to do about me serving as a distraction for the younger female students and the openly gay boys assigned to my classes.  Though I may not have inspired the students to have better grades, but I did make them at least have a perfect attendance score.  In fact, my attendance score still holds the record for not only achieving a perfect attendance, but an overpopulated one as well.

 Also, I was no closer to finding Neil.  Figgins had placed me to teaching the seniors class so I mostly spent my time dealing with the older kids.  I also ended up signing myself into a Big Brother program where I became good friends with the sweetest kid who reminds me of my uncle.  Her name is Becky and she has Down Syndrome like my uncle Chase.  Though I did end up with a friend, it still didn’t help me deal with the obvious situation.

 My plans weren’t working as well as I hoped.

 I had to find them fast before I headed back to New York. For the past 4 years, I’ve been working myself like a dog barely taking any vacation leave.  If I delay this, there would bound to be questions that the less anyone knew or asked, the better.  So the only answer lay back to starting at square one.

 I was going to have to find my mother’s twin sister on more desperate terms.

 *                *                *

Chapter 4: Quinn

 Present day: Blonde hair and change of outfits later...

 I need to get a hold of my life.

 I was through with the dyed pink hair job, the taking Beth from Shelby antics, and hooking up with almost anybody just to have another baby tragic performance.  

 The only drama I want in my life will be the ones I’m saving for Yale.  It’s a miracle that my short outward lashing stint had only cost me a few notches down on my GPA, but I have to do much better and crunch my neurons harder.

Unfortunately, my ticket to getting into Yale was proving to be dismal.  I had a long discussion with my parents about my future and it seems that staying there financially was my problem.  With the recession at hand, my father admitted that he wasn’t sure if he could afford the expensive tuition and I was fully aware that spending a four year semester thing in an Ivy League institution did not come cheap.  

 I sought help from the school councilor, of which, I think asking her advice would seem ironic as she looks to be in need of a shrink because of her Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  After my talk with Miss Pillsbury, I have to raise my GPA and impress the Dean of admissions, who by the way seems like a real tough guy who bears no sympathy to anyone.

 And right now, I’m really desperate.

 Desperate to the point that I find myself sitting in night classes to make up for loss time.  It isn’t so bad, most of the people who come here are adults.  Most of my classmates are immigrants who have still to master their English.  Others are those who never had the time to finish their academic ambitions due to circumstance. Take, for example the housewife, Jennifer, who married early in high school, but now has to find a job to support her kids after her good-for-nothing husband left her.

 It’s my first time to be in night school, but right now I’m listening to Jennifer blab about the teaching assistant.

 “You should have been here last week, because the guy who teaches English Literature is a hunk of a man.” she sighed as she tilts her head as if reveling back into the memory of a very pleasant dream.   “He’s like a Hollywood superstar and a gorgeous male model rolled into one. Once he starts quoting Shakespeare, I die just a little.”  The other women beside us nod in agreement.  

 “I heard that he went to some fancy school in college and dropped out because he wanted to pursue a career in music.” Iora, the small diminutive woman from El Salvador who reminds me of Snooki from Jersey Shore whispers as if she were divulging in some conspiracy secret.

 “That would make so much sense, handsome on the outside, brilliant and sensitive on the inside.  I hope he’s not gay.” Jennifer added and giggles like a schoolgirl.  Her face drops suddenly and she settles in her seat as my gaze travels and I’m soon to find what the ruckus is about.

 “Good evening, guys.” Iain Hargreave walks in cheerfully. He looks absolutely gorgeous wearing a black slim fit five button Hugo Boss furious sports coat that’s open revealing a white v-necked shirt that shows off the sleek column of his neck and dark brown pants.  I can’t help but think that he looks fit to be in a Hugo Boss commercial with his hair mussed in a “I-still-manage-to-look-hot-after-rolling-off-the-bed” look and those piercing blue eyes as he enters the room.   He slowly shuffles out of his jacket and a rushed adrenaline feeling starts making me want to move out of my chair and start handing him dollar bills.  

 I almost make the sign of the cross as an act of penance for possessing such lustful thoughts!

 He throws the jacket on the seat and glares at me when he realizes that I’m in the room.  We’re caught in a staring match, and I can almost hear him take a long breath of intake, almost as if the sight of me simply takes his breath away.  His handsome features tighten as he frowns and turns his attention towards the rest of the class and begins his lessons.  He spends the entire time completely ignoring my existence.  Somehow, that knowledge alone makes me  sad, almost like as if I could wish that he actually like me more than resented the very being that was Quinn Fabray, blonde, Christian to the core, and too perfect on the inside, an absolute horrid mess inside.

 I never understood Iain’s disdain towards me.  Usually, he comes along as charming and affable to everyone, including my own father who can’t seem to stop saying how great he is.  My dad has always wanted a son and my sister Frannie, who had just recently gone through an ugly divorce, and I never filled that void.

My mother tolerates Iain with cool civility, but my sister is the worst.  She shamelessly flirts with him whenever he’s around. I roll my eyes remembering how she coquettishly asks him how he pronounces his name.  He replies it would sound like as how it would have been spelled as Ian because his nickname comes from his Scottish great grandfather or something.  And though he throws that usual charming smile, which I know is fake because it never quite reaches his eyes, he’s been pretty firm in his actions in telling my sister that he has no interest in forming any relationship with her.  

 How Iain came into the Fabray household was my father’s brainchild idea.  He told me that he had hired me a personal tutor who not only could help me with my SATs and GPA, but that he also had personal connections to Yale which could definitely help me get the scholarship I needed.  Or at least a partial grant, my father reassures me that we could still manage the expenses.  Not that I needed a tutor, I can handle myself academically fine.  Prior to my tumultuous state in the past few months, I had been a straight A student and though I was a blonde cheerleader, I could also hold myself against even the nerdiest people in the academic world.

 Except where Iain Hargreave is concerned.  Every time I’m around him, my mind turns to mush and I can barely concentrate.  The minute he walked in our house, I recognized him as the young man I saw that day on the hotel lobby in New York.  I was hooked on him during those days because I couldn’t wait to get out of our room and seek him out.  In fact, the only reason why I was able to convince the rest of the New Directions to get out of there and explore New York was because I wanted to find him and hope that I would run into him again at the lobby.  Unfortunately, that never happened.  So I consoled myself by being a bitch all over again.

 And as if the Universe was going to do a Linda Blair 360 on me, I end up finding my dream man in our house.   Somewhere also in that moment when he stepped in, I knew he also recognized me when a flicker of surprise shone for a brief moment before he mentally shuts down and his granite expression doesn’t reveal anything.  

 In fact, most of the time when we’re together, I’ve been dying to ask him that very same question.  However, pride pulls me back.  Most of the time, he’s formal and somehow being around me makes him tense and I myself become self-conscious. He is so not like those boys in William McKinley, they barely hold a candle to this guy’s high level octane of hotness.

 Geez. I can’t believe I just said that.

  It doesn’t help either knowing that he acts as if dealing with me was a painful chore that he has to endure five days a week.  I hate to admit that it does kind of irk my feelings knowing that the only reason why he’s helping me out is because he’s in need of money, which my father would handsomely provide once I get into Yale.  On the days that he’s at home, Iain gives me assignments and then would leave me to do them alone.  My sister sees an opening salvo then whisks him away, talking animatedly as she pulls on all the moves.  Iain pleasantly tolerates her, but somehow I get this feeling it’s because he does this out of spite rather than polite courtesy.  

 As Iain’s voice drones along with talks about World History, I tune into his voice.  I know he speaks in an American slang, but there’s a hint of something foreign.   My mother told me that he’s very smart and went on scholarship to a fancy boarding school in Scotland during his teen years and was accepted at Harvard with a business degree but dropped out because his scholarship grant went bankrupt.  She didn’t divulge on any details as to what Iain was doing in Ohio because he doesn’t look like the type that grew up in Lima.  

 Actually, a lot about Iain baffles me.

 Yet intrigues me and makes me yearn for more.  This is an emotion I’m not so used to and gives me a queasy feeling of inadequacy.  I’ve dated guys whose personalities ranged from naive, immature, boring and unworldly. Finn was inexperienced, Puck is a part little boy and drama queen, and Sam was pleasant as a day fishing.  That is if you like long hours of boredom.  

 Everything that Iain isn’t.

 Something about him doesn’t add up.  He’s cultured, educated, recklessly dangerous, and ridiculously good-looking that it’s a distraction alone watching him in a simple white shirt that contrasts yet emphasizes his bronzed muscled body.  As he turns around to write something on the board, I’m mesmerized by the easy, graceful movement of his biceps and his shoulder as he writes that I find myself wondering what it would be like to be caught in that embrace and looking into those deep cobalt blue eyes.

 A woman behind me sighs lustfully, interrupting my thoughts. I respond by breathing out irritably in response.  Iain turns slightly and I catch the smirk on his face, almost as if he heard my reaction to the woman.

 An hour flies by and then class is over, as everyone starts packing their things, Iain ambles towards me.  I can feel that the entire class too has noticed the tension and tries to tune into our conversation.  Iain throws a rather annoyed look towards their direction and they hurry out of the room leaving me alone to deal with him.

 “Is this some kind of joke?” He asks eyeing me suspiciously. “I’m gone for a few days and you start doing night school behind my back? “

 “Joke?  No, a joke is something that involves having a laugh and I don’t find this humorous at all.” I reply tartly as I lean my head to look at him.  He’s so tall that I start feeling the tension roll towards my neck.

  His eyes scan my face then slowly rove around my body.  Being Captain of the Cheerios at some point of my life, I’m used to this typical kind of male behavior of being checked out.  Except this guy does it so blatantly to the point that it feels intimate even though he’s standing an arm’s length away from me.  

 Noah Puckerman does the same thing all the time too, but it comes off as offensive.  This one makes me feel all warm and tingled inside and at the same time I want to run far away, scream my head off and pray to Jesus for having sinful thoughts involving this dark-haired angry young man with electric blue eyes.  I can feel a rush of blood shooting up towards my face thinking of things that I really don’t want to discuss if I were still in the Celibacy Club.  

 Right now, he looks too darn sexy for words.  Don’t even get me started on those lips.  I could have probably been imagining things because for a slight second he seems a bit amused by my own reaction. Almost like he can read my thoughts and that he was thinking the exact same thing.

 Not that he can help that.  I’ll be he probably gets this sort of attention all the time, I remark bitterly.  My thoughts suddenly turn to thinking of the scores of women who have fallen rock hard for him.  Or how many had their hearts broken just simply by being around him?  Looking at him is like a drug that gives one the warm fuzzies.

 I remind myself that I don’t like warm and fuzzy feelings. Not a good place to be in considering my bad history.  I throw him a cool smile as if he doesn’t affect me in anyway even though I’m torn between running away and rushing towards those strong arms around that 6 foot tall frame and handsome face who smells like a combination of bergamot, sandalwood and Iain.  I’ve never been a fan of men’s fragrances before but since I’ve met Iain, whatever expensive aftershave or bodywash he uses gets me hooked every single time.   That’s a lie, I tell myself, Iain Hargreave is addictive.

 “You shouldn’t be here.  It’s late and it’s way past your bedtime.”

 “You didn’t give me a choice.  I mean, the whole assignment thing wasn’t working out for me. Besides, the added attendance also makes up for the classes that I skipped before and for your information, it’s only ten o clock.”

 “Did you drive here by yourself?” he quickly changes the topic. It’s a habit of his, distracting me with one thing and then saying something that’s completely different.

 “No.  My sister will pick me up later.”

 “Forget it, I’m taking you home.” He reaches out and takes my arm.  I try to ignore those warm fuzzy feelings again as he firmly, but gently drags me along with him.  I wasn’t sure if what started it was when he mentioned the part of taking me home or when he took my arm or maybe it could have been both.  People look around and I could hear Jennifer mumble something about me being so lucky and I roll my eyes in response.

 We amble our way out of the parking lot and Iain hands me a motorcycle helmet for me to wear.  Before I protest, he climbs on top and looks at me, expecting me to hop in.

 “What?  Motorcycle rides not good enough for you, Princess?” he asks sardonically, though I can hear him chuckle under his helmet.  It’s the first time he’s laughed or shown any other emotion other than annoyance, irritation, or indifference.  

 “I’ve ridden motorcycles before,” I retort as I wear the helmet and climb behind him.  I was actually glad that I chose not to wear a dress at this particular time as that would have been awkward.  I wrap my arms around his waist and feel his rock-hard abs underneath his jacket.  I tremble a little in response and he reaches out to warm my hands and forearms as if he was thinking I was cold.  His fingers linger a little longer than necessary as he tells me to hang on.  I hear the engine roar and I grab on tight and lean on his back and rub the side of my face against his jacket.  He smells clean, like laundry soap with a hint of male masculine sexiness.  Kind of like what an Irish Spring commercial would have been like if they ever invested in fabric conditioners. I’m not sure if it’s because I missed him or I missed the smell of mixed bergamot, sandalwood, and him as I lean closer and continue to inhale his scent as if it were the only thing I needed.  

 Perhaps I may not like warm fuzzies.  But I could get used to this.

 *                *                *

Chapter 5: Iain

 From the very beginning, I swore to myself that I was going to be detached and I wasn’t going to get emotionally involved.  

 And from the very beginning, I failed.

 I don’t know what it is about her that gets me, but Quinn has a way of pushing my buttons like no other.  Truth is, in a similarly sadomasochistic way, I enjoy ruffling her feathers.  It’s fun watching her getting pissed because unlike most girls who usually either ignore me or pout prettily to deviate me, she actually cares.

 How I came about becoming her tutor was purely accidental. When I discovered my mother’s twin was working in a UPS chain store owned by some guy named Russell Fabray, I knew I had to find some way to earn the man’s trust.  I wasn’t going to just drop in and give Aunt Luna a coronary, the last time my father tried to do that, she threatened to call the police and told him to stay the hell away from my mother.  

 God help me if I ended up doing the same stupid thing my old man did back then.  So I needed more information and some way to get close to her, without giving myself away and the only answer to that was to work there.  I should have dumbed down my credentials but it was a bit too late to argue and change anything since the local database would check out eventually. So I walked in Fabray’s office with my CV and handed it to him, saying that I was an out-of-college business major from Stanford looking for a job.

 After a brief interview, Russell Fabray turns out that he was in need of making amends to his daughter after what he put his family through. I listen intently as the man started bawling out that he didn’t mean to leave his wife and children for a woman who had more tattoos than skin on her body.  I didn’t blame him.  The guy was a staunch Christian fellow whom I had this impression was the type who enjoyed spending his weekends on some boring Bible thumping activity.  

 I don’t have anything against it, it was never my cup of tea.  Anyway, he showed me a picture of his “precious daughter”, whom at the time was photograph of a rather plain dowdy girl with auburn brown hair and thick plastic glasses.  He went on about how his daughter was interested in getting into Yale but with the tuition rates, he doubted they could afford such a luxury.  I agreed to help in return that I spend time at the shop, with hopes of running into Luna without her recognizing me.  

 I had long avoided being photographed in public due to constant threats of kidnapping; I have paid the paparazzi and every media available to keep my profile low key.  So chances that I would be recognized are pretty slim.  

 Besides, I didn’t feel the need to tell him that my family is a legacy in Yale.  My dad, my granddad, his father, and the one before that all went to Yale.  I rebelled and went to Harvard, mainly just to stay away from my family who lived in the Upper East Side of Manhattan.  I actually preferred the quiet charm Boston offered for a while before I quit my final year there.  My life was like an episode of Gossip Girl gone to life where I played a cross between Nathan Archibald and Chuck Bass but was more of a Dan Humphries.

 Lately, my life was filled with a set of rules. The sheer predictability of it all, including everyone in it, was beginning to grate on me. Whether it was doing business deals, being in bed with a model from a well-known lingerie brand or a glamour spread magazine, evoking a relationship with a diva starlet, or even as mundane as playing golf with business acquaintances, I automatically did and said all that was proper….and improper at the appropriate time.  Being associated with people who were like me in my own class (or thought to belong there) was becoming anemic by the hour.  I felt like my world was like a mapped out story minus a climax or lackluster anticlimax.

 This time, I wanted to play the field and pretend I was just a normal, average twenty something man wanting to live the American dream.  I promised Russell that I’d get Quinn into admissions and help her get a scholarship.  

 He agreed and he arranges a family dinner the next day where I was to meet his ex-wife, who reminds me of a Real Housewife from some Midwest area.  The eldest daughter, Fran, spelled trouble and was not in any way my type despite her slim figure and silver platinum blonde hair.  She had deep blue eyes and her hair color reminded me too much of my mother.   As it was, I’ve always had an aversion effect from blondes.  Probably because I’ve witnessed my dad get his heart trampled by one and refused to go the same way.

 And finally, my eyes settle on Quinn.  She was exactly how I remembered from that time I saw her at the Intercontinental lobby.  She now looked so adorably cute in sexy Lolita way rocking that white baby doll dress that showed a tiny waistline, ample sized breasts and slim legs encased in mid boots. A simple gold cross adorns her slim lovely white neck and I’m given a reminder by God to watch where I lay my eyes on.  I remember her clad in something similar when I was on my way to visit my grandmother, Constance. Grandma liked to frequent the bar lounge because she claimed that they made the best Singaporean Slings.  I’m more convinced she says that because we own the hotel and she’s too stingy to go elsewhere.    

 The minute I laid eyes on Quinn on that hotel lobby, it was as if time had stopped.  She had long wavy light sandy blonde hair that reached the back of her shoulders that gave me this distracting urge to run them through my fingers and feel if they’re as silky smooth as they look. She wasn’t a classic beauty like the models I frequently dated, but there was something wholesome and sweet about her that reminded me of ice cream, cotton candy, and amusement parks.

 I assumed, given the Harajuku cuteness, she was working as a part-time Nanny and art student from Tisch University at NYU because most of the girls there look like ingénues anyway.  She looked like Little Red Riding hood wearing that floral blue dress and a bright red orange jacket and I felt like the horny Big Bad wolf, thinking how she would give Mr Happy a full rush even if she wore a sack.  My thoughts began to stray, wondering what she’d look like underneath that shapeless jacket that hid her figure.  I imagined she’d look smoking hot if she wore one of those sheath dresses from Hervé Leger and strappy Manolo Blahniks stilettos wrapped around those fair, nimble limbs. I could tell she’s dancer with those legs even when they’re wrapped in those white stockings that reminds me of the stuff nurses wear.   Put me in the ICU, and give me intensive care stat!  I think with an inward grin as I stare a little longer at those gorgeous legs of hers.  She definitely used to be a cheerleader in high school, I muse thinking back on how many times I’ve had sexual fantasies involving cheerleaders dressed up in those freakishly short skirts and holding out pom-poms with legs high up in the air.   I give myself a mental shake from my wayward thoughts and focus again on the gorgeous woman ahead of me.  

 From this distance, I couldn’t exactly tell what color her eyes were, but they looked to be hazel and it matched her pretty features.  But her lips, dear God, those things were the stuff porn dreams were made of because they were lush, naturally pinkish red that was slightly parted and moist from freshly applied lip gloss.  The sight of those juicy chops actually made me stop dead in my tracks.  I was so engrossed by that damn sexy mouth.   I know what I said when I mentioned about having an aversion to blondes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find them attractive.  Not especially with a mouth like that. I give her one of my seductive half smiles, thinking all the while of the things I could do to that bouche all night long

 Wow.  

 Who was this girl?

  She was looking at me the same way most women do whenever they first see me.  I smile sardonically and think that this girl needs to relax and I just know how to ease her fears. As I make my way toward her, I realize that there’s also a longing on that beautiful yet vulnerable angel face. Now, that really got my full attention.

  As I saunter thoughtfully towards her, I start making mental notes; analyzing her bizarre behavior as to why someone that pretty would look so forlorn and vulnerable. Like she had been lost for a while and needed someone to rescue her from whatever it was that trapped her.   I can’t really describe why I had been drawn to that, but all I could tell you was that when she looked at me, it was as if Santa had come early and brought her a present that she couldn’t believe belonged to her.  I’m used to women ogling me and sometimes found it annoying, but oddly this time, I took exception to this particular female.  

 In fact, I like it.  It’s almost as if I want her to have that expression for me, and only for me, even though I have no idea who the she hell was.  I wanted to make her mine.  We were probably staring at each other for a mere five seconds, but that short amount of time had planted a great wave of emotions that rushed through which was indescribable and totally beyond words.  It was like this sheer force that the cosmos placed between two strangers who were meant to meet at that particular moment and when they do, boom! You’re shocked, paralyzed, and before you know that moment is gone.

 Her friend in the bright yellow cardigan and tight green striped dress disrupts our deadlock.  She’s pretty in a tough, dark way; she reminds me way too much of my ex Lily, who has in avertedly put me off brunettes much more than my own mother did with blondes.  At this rate, my limitations would be with the redheads and the ones with light brown hair. Or sandy blonde.

 Little Red Orange Coat with her lovely locks that reminds me of honey, butter, and vanilla malt.  

 A man can get addicted, I wonder blithely if she tastes as good as what I’m picturing from her hair.  No way, I correct myself, she probably tastes even better.  I can see from my peripheral vision that she is distracted and cranes her head as if looking for me, but I’ve already made a beeline and chat with a tall beanpole of a man with wire-rimmed glasses and a huge beak nose.  Looking at Claude the concierge always makes me think of Abraham Lincoln.  

 Already, in my mind, a plan was formed and I’ve made my decision. Oh no you don’t get away from me that easily, you adorable beautiful minx. I grin in anticipation, excited to see her again once I get all the details.  

 I had already thought of surprising her hotel room with flowers.  Red roses scattered all over with the works, and an expensive champagne bottle like Bollinger Grande Année Rosé or maybe Dom Pérignon care of the friendly welcoming committee that composes of well, me, myself and I.

 Then after I’ve charmed her off that sweet little behind, I’d ask her out to dinner and take her on my helicopter for a night ride around the Empire State Building; I figured that was always a hit with the ladies from my previous rendezvous.  Then take her clubbing to one of the bars that I’ve acquired and when we’re all sweaty and bothered, I’ll bring her home and do everything that I’ve been dying to do with that sexy pink mouth, undress her and make love to that delectable body all night until we’re both too tired to move.  

 Then, like when all good things come to an end, I’ll firmly tell her that I have to leave for a prolonged business trip and never bother with her ever again.  She’ll probably frown and pout, and given those lips, I’d probably take her shopping as a ‘goodbye and thanks for playing’ parting gift, thinking that she could also use sexy underwear.  I’m thinking some Agent Provocateur corset bras and La Perla satin slips would do the trick.  Then I’d fuck her again when she’s wearing them, both in the dressing room and in her hotel room before I finally go on my ‘business trip’.  I start to feel a strange stirring down my groin and I chuckle to myself wondering at how far my imagination has gone when I haven’t even met her yet.

 What if she’s got a horrible voice and sounds like a frog?

 Or worse, what if she doesn’t even speak English? Impossible, I shake my head and sigh with relief, she looks all American even though with those striking features, she could pass as an English girl from Chelsea.

 Stop daydreaming and get with the program Hargreave!

   I chat with Claude, asking my Grandmother’s whereabouts, I then mildly inquire about Little Red Orange Coat and her friends. I play things cool, merely asking what all the fuss was about as I note that there are a lot of young people filing in the hotel this week.  Claude informs me that they’re a bunch of high school kids from some small town in Ohio competing in a National Chorale competition.  Two suite rooms were registered to a William Schuester.  He then hands me the list of names of teenagers who accompanied him.

 Hold up, my eyes bug out for a split second.  High school kids?  I earlier assumed Little Red was in college renting out a hotel room to celebrate her 21st bday or was here to meet a friend who was visiting the city like that dark Latina friend of hers, but a high school teenager?

 Suddenly, I feel sick to the stomach for lusting over a child. It was then that I decided I wasn’t really interested of going through the entire list thinking that my dream girl could be named Rachel Berry or Mercedes Jones. She could be a Brittany, most cute girls these days go by that name, I shrug as I rhythmically tap the list as if to block any thought I had earlier.  

  Give it up Hargreave, it’s a moot point and you know it, I console myself as I glance over again the registration list.  She’d only be in New York for a couple of days and then go back home to some hick town where her football player boyfriend was probably waiting for her with sad, puppy dog eyes. For a minute, I thought she was Brittany S. Pierce, but after dealing with the real Brittany when I substituted in an English literature class those hopes were dashed.

 I’m brought back again to present day where in that awkward moment in the foyer when Russell introduced us, I knew she recognized me. I pretended I knew nothing and downplayed.  If her father found out that I had been in New York, I was pretty certain questions would arise that I might not be able to fully conceal everything about myself.  Luckily, Quinn didn’t give anything away.  

 I took a few stolen glances at dinner time and noticed that she had cut her hair.  It wasn’t that bad, it was still long enough to have my hands run through them.  The minute I thought of that, I started scowling and nearly kicked myself for my own weak urges.  Don’t even get me started because even at this distance, I’m highly aware that she smells like a combination of Green Tea, lemons and jasmines. Her lips are freshly glossed and I can trace a hint of vanilla.  

 Those elements combined are a very, tantalizing and highly fucking dangerous mix.  

 I take a step away from her so I don’t distract myself further and pay attention to her sister, who’s giving me that admiring ‘oh my gosh, you’re so hot’ look.  Oh yeah, baby.  Look all you want sweetheart, the beauty’s only skin deep, I smile sardonically glad that the odd stirring in my groin has ceased.  Her sister smells like expensive Bulgarian Rose perfume, and from this distance I can tell that she’s put way too much and it instantly turns me off.

 Most girls I’ve been with either smell like roses or expensive musky French perfume, or something with a rose-smelling component. I’ve also been with women who smelled like cookies which by the way made me feel diabetic.  

 But to me, Quinn smells clean and relaxing; her scent reminds me of those calming teas Pop used to make as we sat together and played the piano.

  I turn my attention towards those expressive green eyes, which look at me as if wondering what the hell I was doing sitting on their table.  From this distance, I realize that her eyes have brown flecks in them, giving them the appearance of hazel, which I had presumed then were the color of her eyes.  It’s a dangerous combination because I can feel that if she’s really riled those sea-foam jewels could turn into stormy amber.

 Why the heck have I suddenly turned poetic describing eye color?

  This is disgusting, I tell myself obviously disappointed with my own behavior.  If that Fabray guy finds out  how much I’m worth  that self-righteous bastard would gladly throw his daughters and have one of them, if not both, marry me off.

 Somehow, I’m suddenly afraid of the idea of marrying Fran who keeps eyeing me like I’m the main course.  

 I don’t dare let my thoughts wander off to what I REALLY wanted to do to Fabray’s young, teenage daughter on our ‘wedding night’ or what my first intentions were when I saw her at the hotel lobby in New York.

 If ever Russell Fabray knew that I had almost seduced his youngest daughter, I would surely leave this house a eunuch minus anesthesia.

I distract myself the entire evening by giving her an overview of what Yale expected from an applicant.  I didn’t have the heart to tell Quinn that I was personally connected to the Dean of Admissions, David Sanders-Pendleton, as he is currently my grandmother’s fourth husband.  I didn’t want Dean Dave (I never called him Grandfather) to think I was using him.  

 So in a Machiavellian approach, I decide to fill in Quinn on the details that I knew my step-grand dad looked for in a candidate.

 “So what are you thinking of majoring?” I ask pleasantly. Dinner was over and Quinn and I were still seated at the dinner table corroborating on her admissions.  Russell had left early on, and I could see Judy hovering around the background, as if she didn’t completely trust me.  Fran was watching me closely, thinking of some way to distract me and I barely pay her any mind.

 “Dramatic Arts,” her voice said steadily.  It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak.  Hmm, strangely enough, it’s actually pleasant to listen to I think to myself as an afterthought.

 “I heard you went to Harvard.” She then says, still not looking into my eyes.  This is a relief because they’re damn distracting.

 “Yes,” I say littlest words possible.  The less she knows, the better off I’ll be.

 “What was your major?”

 “Economics and Computer Science,” I answer hastily. “But enough about me, let’s talk about you.  So you want to be like Meryl Streep?”  I throw her a lopsided grin which she initially responds with a surprise, but smothers it immediately when she realizes that I’m mocking her.  Her sea foam green eyes light off and I was right about them turning into a flash of amber brown matches.  

 This girl is fun to rile, I chuckle. When I find myself wondering if she shares that same passion for other matters, I give myself a mental kick thinking that not only am I a weakling but a bloody lecher.  Shame on you, Hargreave, for hankering after a sweet, innocent high school senior from a small town.  Shame!  

 “Yes, like Meryl Streep.” She replies.

 “You do realize that it took Meryl a while before she entered Yale.” I shook my head.  “It’s a tough course to get into, what are your current credentials? “

 Quinn paled at my question and it was clearly obvious that she hadn’t thought her brilliant plan through enough.

 “I’m in the school glee club.”

 “Being in the chorale is an extracurricular activity. Anybody can be in a show choir as long as there are a few talented singers.  As far as I’m concerned, the rest can mouth watermelon all day.”

 I notice a few of Quinn’s habits during our conversation. One of which where she mercilessly bites her lower lip when she’s pissed or flustered.  She pouts when she’s wrapped deep in thought and I personally think it’s the sexiest duck face I’ve ever seen.   Her lips quiver when she’s nervous too.   Forgive me for sounding like a horny toad, but they’re all a real turn on.

 “I was captain of the Cheerios.”

 “Is that a cereal?”  I witnessed yet again those lovely amber green eyes turn its wrath toward my direction. Her lips are quiver I’m still amazed that despite the fury underneath, she remains collected and fully composed.  Judy and Fran have probably gone off somewhere, but I’m guessing that we’re not completely alone either.

 “If you must know, it’s a cheering squad.  We’ve won nationals 5 consecutive times.  Our coach even ran for congress.”

 “Ah, Sue Sylvester.” I clucked my tongue as an ominous sign that Quinn was doing badly at her faux interview. “Her Sarah Palin-esque slash Napolean Bonaparte sentiments against the Arts is an epic fail for the board review.  You won’t be winning favours from the Dean just by the mention of her name.”

 “She’s a Republican.” “Yes, but you also forget that Dean Pendleton is the descendant of Lord Alfred Tennyson.  Their family is a staunch advocate for promoting literacy.  They hold an annual scholarship fund for the Academy of Dramatic Arts at Yale and Cambridge, so being a part of something that discourages their lifelong mission isn’t going to be getting you brownie points.” I look at Quinn and notice that she’s biting mercilessly at those lovely lips that I doubt she even notices that her lower lip quivers when she’s nervous or when she’s really pissed.  

 Seeing her chew mercilessly at her luscious freshly glossed lips that smells like vanilla mixed with green tea and jasmines once again gives me a hard-on. Shit, what the hell is this girl doing to me? I shift sideways and slightly adjust my seating before anyone notices the growing erection between my legs.  I focus instead on our conversation.    

 “Look, I’ll tell you what.  Why don’t we just focus first on getting the guns to Yale? Your father has already filled me on your GPA.  Even though your first few weeks this year have been dismal, I think we’ve got enough time to repair the damage.  I can probably help you study to improve your SAT scores, though you probably won’t need my help judging by the results of your pre-test scores.  Have you thought about what to write for your essay?”

 I switch topics while resisting an urge to touch her hand and pull her towards me, wrapping my arms around her then doing Lord knows what. Judy would give my huevos a good kick first then gladly throw me out of the house. Luckily, the thought of Judy doing just that easily deflates Mr Happy.

 Quinn nods silently.  I run my fingers through my hair and draw out a few assignments I’ve made. I quickly go over the details and she follows through me, nodding as if she understood every word, but she refuses to look at me.  I shrug and push the papers towards her and let her get to work.  

 I amble across the kitchen to keep some distance from her because being around her is one helluva distraction.

 Easy as pie, I grumbled sarcastically as I recalled those very words I thought when I was still at her father’s office looking at her then preadolescent picture.  

 I’m dragged to the present moment having brought Quinn home from night class.  How her own parents allow her to do things on her own remains a complete mystery to me. When I was her age, my family threw me straight to boarding school so they never had to deal with me going through my tumultuous teenaged years.  When I arrived to New York during the summer breaks there were parties to go to, and then there were ‘those’ parties you just had to attend because well, everyone who was anyone was there.  

 My family was pretty lenient with me, because I knew how to handle myself publicly, but I’m pretty sure their faith in me was solely because I was male.  

 Things might have been different if I wasn’t.  I remember my cousin Fiona from Greece who was recently cited as one of Forbes richest teenagers, but can barely go out to shop or have an ice cream sundae without an array of bodyguards to watch over her.   I had a personal bodyguard, Lenny whom I’ve considered as family, but since I left for Stanford he was reassigned to Air Force One.    

 It didn’t seem right that Judy and Russell allowed their daughter to go through night school.  Trust me, if I thought McKinley was dangerous after seeing that Jewish kid with the weird hair get thrown in the dumpster I reassessed my thoughts the minute I was reassigned to night school.   What people weren’t aware of was that McKinley High at night was not only abandoned save for a few night watchmen, but there were drug deals made by the bleachers.  Some of the students at night school “posed” as honest people making a living but were doing the deals undercover by taking recess breaks selling them to a bunch of moronic jocks looking for a cheap high.

 When Quinn mentioned her flea-brained sister was going to pick her up it left me unsettled.  In the days that I’ve been living with the Fabrays, I’ve known that not only does Fran look like a younger version of Judy, but also they also share the same petulance for being dumped by their good-for-nothing husbands and possess an alcohol addiction that even rivals my own grandmother.  At least, I never worried about Constance’s blood levels going beyond the intoxicated limit as she doesn’t drive.  There were times that I was glad we had chauffeurs and vigilant bartenders for those moments.  

 I noticed most of the time that Judy also spent her time working or attending a Jesus Booze festival, Fran is usually busy making out with some loser guy or the latest hired gardener that Quinn ends up alone in their house without any supervision.  Not unless you count her helping her drunken mother upstairs and tucking her to bed after.  The mere mention of a religious figure and alcohol is blasphemous and I’m not even Catholic.  I’ve been told by a famous American author whom I’ve met at the Met after party last year, that Christians were the most fucked up individuals.  Hanging around the Fabrays has had me convinced of that on a daily basis.

 Except for Quinn.  I’m drawn back once again into that moment at the lobby in New York where she looked so lonely as if looking for someone to love her and care for her.  

 I’m not really volunteering or anything, but somehow I feel this ridiculous protective urge whenever I’m around her.  Like a guy with a fly swatter guarding a piece of delectable pie just waiting for the insects to come by.

 I’m pulled back again where my pie tart gives me the most scathing look.  I wasn’t going to admit either that from the past three days that I’ve been gone, I actually miss her.

 In fact I’m fighting the urge not to touch her.....and strangle some sense in her.  It’s infuriating, frustrating, and absolutely fucking hilarious and depressing at the same time.  I have never felt this frustrated with anyone except for this girl with the honey blonde hair and sea foam green eyes who’s smart mouth I just want to slam against my own.

 “You got me home, thanks a lot.” Says the angry blonde with the smart mouth.  Oh yeah, she sure didn’t miss you, Hargreave.  Based from that response, which wasn’t “gee Iain, thanks for the ride”, she obviously didn’t miss me at all.

 “I’m going to have a talk with Russell.  Under no circumstances are you doing night school.”

 “I’m not doing another round of your assignments. You’re never around anyway, so what’s the use of getting a tutor who keeps giving me a bunch of paperwork?”

 “And here I thought you wouldn’t miss me,” I grinned at her and raised an eyebrow.  I look at her lower lip and yep, it’s quivering again right on schedule. Uh-oh, I notice she isn’t using lip gloss on those babies.  Instead it’s a tinted lip balm that smells like strawberries mixed with a hint of champagne.  I’m beginning to like this more than the Vanilla gloss she regularly uses, but who the hell am I to care what kind of fucking gloss or lip balm she uses.

  I frown at her instead.

 “I don’t. “ She’s obviously lying because her lip is still quivering and she turns, avoiding my gaze. This is a relief because making eye contact with her has this double come-hither effect on me.  In fact, it’s the only thing now that’s separating me from not grabbing her and molesting that goddamn mouth of hers. I dig my hands further down my pockets in order to ease my tension and avoid a Mr Happy episode.

 “Do you know why I make you do those assignments?” I pay my attention to the semi-average decorations of Chateau de Fabray.  It’s a typical suburban American home that gives off this noveau riche approach that never ceases to irritate me because it comes off looking cheap and pretentious. I am duly grateful for the distraction.

 “Yes, to punish me and make my life miserable.”

 “Quinn, those paper work assignments are what you call home-school grading papers.  I’ve already sent your work and those alone already cover those days during your first few weeks as a senior when you went MIA.  Again, with that said, your idea of attending night classes are now pointless.”

She looks at me disbelieving every word I said.  I run my hand through my hair and lean back with my hands behind my head as I tilt my head forward and regard her in silence.

“So you weren’t doing this to avoid me.” “Avoid you?  Why would I do that?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I answer a bit puzzled as to why she would assume something so absurd.  

I wasn’t going to admit my own actions to her either.  I avoid her is because she distracts me and it makes me nervous since the last thing I want to do is take advantage of a situation that I know is going to come with disastrous consequences.  Besides, she’s a wide-eyed teenager who has the whole world ahead of her and I’m a disillusioned multi-billionaire in his twenties fast approaching a midlife crisis.  

 If things were different on that day at New York, I would have left her heartbroken. After seeing a glimpse of her life and given her history, what she’s been through, I’ve come to realize that this girl’s way too good for me and the least I could do is give her the future that she deserves.

 The only nagging feeling that I refuse to ask myself is would I still be involved in her future?  Do you really wanna go there now, Hargreave?  I don’t have to tell her the whole truth, just some partial stuff. I owe her that least much anyway.

 “Truth is, Quinn,” I add softly knowing that this probably won’t come as a surprise for her. “This isn’t the job I had in mind when I went to your father’s office.  When Russell saw my credentials, he thought it would be befitting for me to stand in as your tutor.  The longer I spent time with you and your family, I’ve come to realize you probably need more than that.”

 Her eyes widened in shock. “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked nervously taking a step back from me.  I shook my head as she misinterpreted what I meant.  She was giving me this look that I was going to grab her and physically assault her.

 “You obviously need someone to look out for you,” I say softly, enunciating each syllable to calm her, for some damn reason, I’m used to scaring the living daylights of grown, established men twice my age and here I am trying to soothe her fears like a patient parent.  If only my business rivals could see me now, they would be laughing like loons at my pitiable attempt.    

 “I’ve seen how your mom and sister go around leaving you to fend for yourself at home.  I know your dad isn’t exactly been a running candidate for Father of the year. Also, for the record, I doubt any of your family’s praying combined is any consolation to your plight.”

 She stifled a giggle.  It’s good to hear her laugh because I doubt Quinn does it very often. I may not get to see what she’s like at her school, but I’m pretty sure she keeps a mask on and wears it so well that nobody really sees her own insecurities.  I should know, I invented the same impermeable mask.  The heartless business tycoon, Max Hargreave, CEO of Global Merchant Enterprises & Holdings, a multibillion dollar company that just recently hit the roof after the success of the digital banking service called Loan Shark which recently is now available in either iPhone, Blackberry or Android.  

 “I can take care of myself, but thanks for offering.”

 “I wasn’t offering.  Look, I don’t want to argue with you.  I don’t like the idea of seeing you being in a place that isn’t safe. This really should be your parents concern –“

 “Why do you care so much?”

 Crap.  I wasn’t going answer that now.  Instead I tilt my head to look at her and run my hands through my hair and sigh.

 “I’m not supposed to,” I admit.  That sounds safe enough. “But considering the options that I’m probably the only person of legal age who does, I think we should put our differences aside and be........friends.  How about that?”

TO BE CONTINUED    

[sapphiresea]

1-29 hehehehehehhehehe.... if not all the evens lol!

 pride month questionnaire.    

what is your sexuality? i’m an ace-spec lesbian.

what do gender do you identify as? cisgender female.

how long have you been aware of your sexuality/gender? oh gosh. i really de-sexualized myself for a long time because i couldn’t stand the thought of being with a guy and i just didn’t think being with a woman was an option... but i remember being acutely aware of it when i was about 13 years old, panicking, and then doing my best to repress it.

do you have any preferences? eyes are a really big thing for me. not necessarily shape or color. i just really love being able to look into a woman’s eyes and see a sparkle. but mostly i look for someone i can laugh with and be real with, you know? it’s really important with me to be with someone i can be myself around and who wants to enjoy life with me.

share a positive memory about coming out! aside from the fact that literally no one was shocked i’m gay and everyone was shocked that i was dating someone besides my best friend... well, shortly after i came out to my best friend, i went to visit her. i was staying with her family, who didn’t know ( and still doesn’t know ) that i’m into girls. her cousin, a grown woman who was raised very, very conservative had actually never heard of gay people before and we were sitting there watching glee with her and kurt came on the screen. tina explained to her cousin that he was interested in men the way a lot of men are interested in women and her cousin looked horrified. i mean, she gasped and exclaimed, “surely there must be some kind of cure for these people!” or something along those lines. she was mortified. and my best friend, without missing a beat, jumped in and shut it down, telling her that there’s nothing wrong with gay people and there doesn’t need to be a ‘cure.’ and i just remember it positively because she said something when she knew i couldn’t without outing myself, and i just very much appreciated it.

how do you feel about pride month? pride all day every day. i mean, where i live, for no logical reason, our pride isn’t until september, so it’s mostly just on the internet that i celebrate in june. but hey, it gives me more reason to make gay jokes, so i’m all for it. but more than that, considering our history and all the lgbtqia+ community has been through to be seen as people, yeah, i think pride month is extremely important. i just think we need to do more to educate everyone – both in and out of the community – on our history and how far we’ve come...not to mention how far we still have to go.

do you participate in pride related events? any other events? surprisingly, not a lot? i’ve been to a few, and i’m definitely going to pride this year, but the community here isn’t very large and a lot of the events are outdoors or in bars, and considering i can’t drink or be in the sun, i don’t often have much to do, you know?

how do you feel about lgbtq roles in media? i feel like a lot of them are very narrow. most of the roles are cis white male gays, and even then, they’re quite clichéd. lesbians get killed off or end up with tragic endings. bisexual women are erased. bisexual men barely even exist at all. and then there’s, like, one or two trans characters on all of media that tend to be played by cis people. we’ve certainly gotten better with representation, but there is a very long way to go from here. and maybe once it stops being ‘brave’ for a straight/cis actor to play a gay/trans role and we’re not heralding a movie for great representation when there’s one throwaway line about a female character potentially having a girlfriend that’s not even confirmed by more than a shrug ( looking at you, power rangers ), i’ll start taking it more seriously as progress.

do you feel pride in who you are? yes. i would like to be as gay as possible. life might be easier if you’re straight, but god, at what cost???

who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery? i’m lucky and a lot of the people ( though certainly not all ) have been pretty supportive of me. but i didn’t know any gay people growing up. mostly, i found self-acceptance through media. watching olivia and natalia fall in love on guiding light was the first time i let myself consider my sexuality. through that fandom, i met a couple older lesbians – most notably, marie, who i called my nana, and who acted as a mentor. she took me under her wing and really encouraged me to love myself. portia de rossi also had a big influence. reading her book, i really connected with her. so while i’ve never met her, i would say she was a very important figure in my journey, as well.

tell us about your first crush? my first crush – though, thanks to compulsory heterosexuality and heteronormativity, i didn’t recognize it at the time – was on a blonde girl in my third grade class named sam. we met her first day at school when we literally wore the same shirt but in different colors ( mine was purple, hers was blue ) and we thought that was really cool, so we started hanging out at recess. she straddled a line between being a tomboy and a girly-girl in a way i can’t explain. i was entranced by her. i would’ve followed her anywhere like a lost little puppy. she moved away to another province after a few months and because it pre-dated the internet being such a big thing, we lost touch instantly. i never did find out what happened to her. but i swear for those few months, my little eight year-old self was in love.

what sort of advice to have you lgbtq teens? take your time coming out and telling people. you aren’t lying by being in the closet. your safety and comfort comes above all else. but try to find people – even if they’re online – who will accept you for you and who you can be yourself around. being lgbtqia+ is not something to be ashamed of, no matter how many people try to tell you otherwise.

have you come out to friends and family? yes. most people know i’m gay, especially since i can’t keep myself from making terrible jokes about it all the time. i’ve outed myself a lot just for a laugh. the only people who don’t know are my best friend’s family. it sucks, but it’s because of the culture they grew up in and i get it. i don’t like it, but i get it. and i love them too much to risk them hating me.

how do you feel about the term “coming out” ? i don’t really have feelings about it, but it does tend to get that diana ross song stuck in my head.

do you believe there is a “closet” to come out of? yes. there is one big closet from which we all emerge.

any tips on coming out? just do it in your own time. do it in a way in which you feel comfortable. the rest is up to you, honestly. there’s no one right way to do it.

what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtq characterization in media? aside from being killed off? aside from never letting the actual lgbtqia+ people play the lgbtqia+ characters? aside from representation being celebrated when it’s just a tiny hint that a character might not be straight or cis? ...lack of puns. almost every non-cishet person i know makes so many jokes about their gender/orientation all the time for their own amusement. if we could replace the disgusting homophobic/transphobic jokes that are like “lol look at these weird queer people!” with lighthearted jokes from the lgbtqia+ character, i would be stoked. but address the actual problems first and then get to that one.

what’s your favorite parts of lgbtq characterization in media? i mean... representation is so freaking important because it not only allows us to accept ourselves, but helps people outside the community to actually see us as humans. i swear if it wasn’t for will & grace, my parents would’ve had a very different reaction to my coming out. but i also just really love seeing cute wlw being cute. also this was my favorite thing to ever happen.

what did your teachers say about the lgbtqa community in school? most of my teachers played the hypotheticals, if they acknowledged the community at all. they spoke of it in debate terms like none of us existed for real. most of them just ignored the subject altogether. the only time i remember it being specifically addressed was in eighth grade when my music teacher’s son came out and she gave us all a big anti-homophobia speech. she said, “one in ten people is gay, which means at least two of you are.” and that was when i promptly turned bright red and internally panicked because my first thought was, “i wonder who the other one is...” followed by “oh my god, no. no. no. i’m not gay!!!” lol nice try, thirteen year old me.

do you practice safe sex with the same gender? i mean i’m ace-spec and i don’t have a lot of sex... but like.... since i’ve never had sex with someone who could get me pregnant or who has stds.... umm... no... but where tf would you even get a dental dam? has anyone even seen those?

what’s an absolute turn off for you in the opposite/same gender? no sense of humor. i dated a girl who i swear could not laugh. not just at my jokes, but i barely saw her crack a smile in three dates, and that’s as long as we lasted. i was just so not into it.

what’s an absolute turn on for you in the opposite/same gender? dimples. and making me laugh.

how do you feel about lgbtq clubs/apps/websites? yes. more of those, please. i mean, it’s not like i can walk into a starbucks and meet other wlw. i’ve literally only ever met one in the wild and, oh my goodness, let me tell you, we glomped on to one another so quickly. but everyone else, i’ve met over the internet or on an app.

how do you feel about the term “queer” ? i personally like it and use it often. i mean, all of the words in the acronym, every identity has been used as a slur before, and i can and will reclaim it. but i also respect that a lot of people don’t feel the same way. i won’t use it to describe someone if i know it makes them uncomfortable.

how does you country view the lgbtq community? generally we’re pretty well accepted, but you know, there are assholes everywhere. and i also live in the most conservative part of the country, which is fun.

favorite lgbtq actor/actress? well, i mean, i’m obviously a big kate mckinnon fan. i also really love portia de rossi.

any tips for heterosexual and/or cisgender people on how to handle lgbtq events/news? be open-minded and challenge your own biases.

what’s the most annoying question you have ever gotten? “can i watch?” seriously. i’ve been asked that too often. it’s not funny and it’s definitely not attractive. just fuck off.

how do you feel about receiving questions about your sexuality/gender? i’m fine with it as long as people are asking out of curiosity and a desire to learn, you know? if they’re not questioning whether i’m really a lesbian or whatever, i’m totally cool with it. oh! unless they’re asking for details about my sex life or something gross.

[sunsetcurve]

Waves of Thunder * Family Danger Chapter 3

Sorry, at work right now but I know a big chunk of this chapter was Thunderbolt related, so I just inserted the whole thing. 😬

The Man Cave was in shambles ever since Charlotte left. At least that was exactly how Henry made it out every time he called her for an emergency. She went with it a while. Henry was pretty dependent in some aspects and she had only given him a couple of weeks to wrap his head around the changes. Eventually, though, she simply had to tell him very firmly that she couldn't continue to do this. 

She had a job search. She had weekly labs. She was going out for an internship. She just… couldn't coddle him. “Henry, Schwoz is standing right next to you. I can hear him breathing. The man taught me practically everything I know about the place. Turn to him for this help…”

“LAAAAAME!!!” Henry practically shouted. She just held the phone and blinked her eyes, with a sigh, staring ahead. He was about to say something when she started speaking to someone in her background.

“Hey. What're you doing here? I thought our thing was tomorrow?”

“I got here early for some meetings. Want me to go?” A guy said. 

Henry suddenly and oddly felt bothered by this call intrusion. “Who dat?” 

“No. I was just saying goodbye.”

“No you weren't,” Henry claimed.

But, she didn't hear him. Instead, she said into the phone, “Bye, Hen. Good luck on your mission.”

“Oh, that's Henry? Heyyy, Henry!” He said into the mouthpiece. 

She giggled the way that she had when she met Captain Man at Jasper's birthday party. Henry noted this because he didn't hear that type of behavior much from her. She wasn't very giggly. “Get outta my personal space, Max!” She said. Henry doubted she meant it from her giggling, and WHO was Max? “Max says 'Hi,’ but also 'Bye’ because you've got an emergency and we've got science things.”

“What kinda science things?” Henry asked, but Ray shouted,

“Like, right now, Kid!” He punched the enemy, but held onto his phone.

Before Charlotte hung up he heard her say to this Max, “From the sound of it, he's the fight. Probably wouldn't remember you anyway.” Her voice was fading as the phone headed for her bag. “He'll remember your sister.”

“He still crushing on her?”

“Who knows?” And she hung up. 

Henry was fighting as he put his phone away. He'd definitely look into this later! Who the jack was Max? And who was this sister of his that he had allegedly crushed on? And was she still hot? But more importantly, whether or not she was, who was that Max guy to Charlotte? 

Science things were usually not discussed between them. To be frank, they bored him and she didn't need to waste her breath, for both their sakes. But this sounded suspiciously like science things, but being enjoyed with a guy. A guy that made her giggle. A giggle with zero effort. It's not like he was jealous, but he probably should at least size this dude up. Charlotte never dated in school. Her parents didn't allow it. She could hang out with friends all day every day if she wanted, but no boyfriends and no dates. Only high school graduates could date in her house, an unfair stipulation, considering that she was an only child.

But, Henry was distracting himself. He and Ray bagged their bad guy and he headed home shortly after that.

…

He and Charlotte spoke a few more times, while playing on their live video games, and he called her a few times, but she apparently had gotten the internship she was shooting for. All she'd texted was, “Got my internship. Yay!” 

But, her social media post had, “So grateful for this opportunity. The youngest intern for this program in a decade. The only freshman this year. Big ups to my parents, teachers, mentors, and special thanks to Max for so many nights of helping me with my entry project. #TheScienceBroIBeenWaitnFo” Then she included hearts, hugs and kisses emojis. Why hadn't his text been so impassioned?

Henry stared at it for a while before going to the comments and reading an entire 46 comments thread of exchange between her and this guy. 

To sum it up, Dude was super excited for her, and said so, and included a bunch of emojis of his own, and they spoke science here and there, some simple, some went over Henry's head, but the thing that didn't was Max's use of parentheses when he repeated Science “Bros.” 

Now… it was very much so possible that in the short span of time that Henry guessed she knew this dude, he'd quickly caught on to her penchant for not being a “bro,” but since in this rare instance SHE used it, he figured that Max was hinting at something else and honestly, it was on his nerves. 

He checked out the guy's page. “Maxy-T. Corny,” he muttered. But, he looked familiar… Then, Henry saw photos of he and the sister. “Phoebe? This is Phoebe's brother, Max???” That dude was a villain, last time he knew of. Oh, but in his profile, it clearly stated that he'd left villainy behind to be the best hero he could be. Henry groaned, but couldn't force himself to leave the page. Mainly because there were a lot of photos of Char there. She wasn't tagged, so he hadn't seen them before, but they were like… uncomfortably cozy.

One was of her in a lab of some sort, in her pajamas and protective gear, side-by-side with one of her at a science gala, all dressed up and… surprisingly hot, Henry had to admit. The caption said: Get you a girl that can do both. And Charlotte had liked the post and commented with a smile and a wink. “Oh! Okay.” Henry said, nodding as he continued stalking the page. 

One was a video of Charlotte in this field of sunflowers, wearing sunflowers and doing one of those dance challenges. He… didn't know Char could dance like that! And then she levitated? Must have been with Max's help. The caption said: Hope floats. #DoYouLoveMe #SheGotMeInMyFeelings “EXCUSE ME???”

While he was yet stalking, dude went live. “Hey, we're here at Char's lab, working when we should be celebrating…”

She giggled from the background and said, “Oh, so you're gonna shade me like this? I steal your lab?” 

“Charlotte's lab, that Charlotte built with her own two hands and is at working, everyday…” 

Her face appeared to interject, “He totally let me borrow his lab everyday. I was only pushy the first time!” They both laughed and exchanged looks and whatever the look was, Henry hated it.

…

Whenever they talked, she didn't mention Max, and whenever Henry brought him up, she laughed it off and changed the subject. One of the times that they were talking, Henry was in the Man Cave and Ray came upon their conversation. “Is that Charlotte?” He asked and rushed over, jumping into Henry and Charlotte's video call. 

“Dude!”

“Hey, Ray!!!” Charlotte cheered and waved both hands. 

“Charlotte,” he folded his arms, “I've been told you're fraternizing with the kid that turned us over to a room full of villains.” 

“It's not that serious, Ray. We hang out. Besides, that's in his past. He's legit Z-Force, now. Actually, he loves pranks. I think that you'd get along with him, now.”

“Oh because he loves pranks?” Ray asked.

Henry chimed in, laughing, “Yeah, just because he loves pranks.”

Ray: I mean… I also love a good prank.

Henry: Yeah, a good prank is worth a lot to me.

Charlotte: He'll be here soon, if you wanna chat 

Henry suddenly remembered his frustrations, “No! I was checking on you, because you two seem like you're dating. This guy's older, has had way more dates, probably. Probably has a lot of groupies.”

“Superpower groupies,” Ray added.

“The absolute most desperate of groupies.”

“That isn't a lie,” Ray bragged.

Charlotte told them, “The most insulting thing about this conversation is that both of you think that there's something that you would think of that I wouldn't.”

Ray informed her, “We know how guys think.”

“Oh yea? What do you guys think he's thinking about?” 

They both stuttered and Ray finally answered, “Well, grown up sleepovers, for one.”

“Yeah!” Henry seconded, then shuddered, “Gross.”

“Oh, it's gross that someone would be interested in me?” Charlotte snapped. Henry tried to explain that wasn't what year meant, but she had ran with it, “For your information, I love grown up sleepovers and I'm told that I'm excellent at it!” 

“I'm out,” Ray said, leaving the conversation. Busting Charlotte's chops, maybe even giving that Max kid a hard time, he had been ready for, but one of his “kids” having grown up sleepovers? That was where he tapped out.

“Charlotte, that isn't what I was getting at, but wait, what? You've… slept over with that dude? Do your parents know?”

“Do yours know about your… things?”

“That's different. My parents are super not attached. Yours used to have you keep tabs of where you were and who you were with in Goofle Drive.” He laughed, remembering that.

“My parents know that I'm seeing Max and they support me, unlike my so-called best friend who hasn't had anything nice to say to me in months.”

“Char..  I have had plenty of nice things. I just kept them to myself.”

“That's helpful.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Match the wingperson energy that I gave you for every single girl you were interested in during the course of this friendship.”

“I don't recall.”

“I encouraged you to ask Bianca out, and after you made me regret it by basically making a fool of yourself, I still motivated you to tell her how you felt before the world ended. And because of it, when the world kept existing, you'd gotten a kiss and a girlfriend!”

“Okay, that did happen, but…”

“Then you rejected my very helpful advice to NOT try to do a dual identity date with her and Chloe. And after you didn't listen, you spent most of the night isolating me from my other friends to try to advise you through a problem that I never would have been stupid enough to find myself in.”

“Char…”

“And you never even said thank you, or more importantly SORRY!”

“I see your point.”

“Henry, you once told me that you would never date me because I was like a sister to you.”

“You said that you wouldn't date me because I was a dishonest idiot and it already complicated your life enough just being my friend!”

“And… that was true then and is true now. But, you're acting… not like my brother. You don't pull this with Piper.”

“I don't feel the same way about Piper as I do about you,” he blurted out. 

“Precisely. And like the idiot that I said you were, you waited until I found someone else to acknowledge this. I'm not Chloe, Henry. I'm not giving you a shot because you decided that you don't want to see me with someone else. Especially when I was there to witness herbe neglected until she left for Kids in the Woods.”

“I don't want to date you.’

“Good. Then there's no reason that you can't be supportive.”

“Yeah. Well, I gotta go. Swellview emergency.”

“Cool. Be careful out there.”

“Will do.”

…

Flashback:

Charlotte told Henry, “We should come up with a backup story. We'll need cover if Jasper is ever going to buy that we're dating. My cover is that we're keeping it a secret because my parents won't allow me to date. Easiest fiction is something steeped in the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, your parents don't let you date. Now, you ewwwing at me makes sense.”

“We made the sound at the same time, and that's not the reason that I did.”

“Friends should never date. First off, you might ruin the friendship and on top of that, I mean, I see you like a sister. You understand.”

“I don't understand any of that. If I were going to date, I'd definitely want the person to be my friend first. I want us to have common ground. I want us to have things that we can share together as friends even though we're dating. And, I have literally never thought of anyone as a sibling. Maybe it's because I am an only child, or maybe it's just because we have such different ways, you couldn't have possibly ever grew up as my sibling. My parents would have disowned you by now.”

“Harsh, but realistic… WAIT! Then why'd you say EWWW?”

“I said ewww, because you're a dishonest idiot and it already complicates my life enough just being your friend.”

“Charlotte, that's the rudest thing you've ever said to me… but it's maybe true, possibly.”

“I don't need you to tell me that I'm making sense. What about your cover? Jasper will have so many questions and most of them, I'm sure he'll ask you.”

Henry waved her off, “Between the two of us, no matter what we say, he'll believe us.”

…

Having a hectic schedule, but still no paycheck was a bummer. Charlotte really needed one of these searches to come through. As she played videogames with Henry and Jasper, she complained about it on the headset. 

“Why don't you see if Ray has something you could do from there?” Henry wondered.

“He's been a lit.tle. fussy with me since my notice. Henry, do you really think Ray might consider that?”

“Don't see why not. He often asks me 'Are you and Charlotte talking again? I have wanna ask her something!”

“When were we not talking?”

“He only means that he knows I'm no longer a priority.”

She paused for just a moment and her character was almost killed! She took a moment, put her head back in the game, and practically whispered, “You’ll always be a priority, Hen.” He smiled to himself, and even though she couldn’t see him, she countered, “Don’t be smiling.”

A/N: I usually do these at the front, but I wanted to just tag this bit of info in here… I do not know WHO I got the idea of Charlotte + Max Thunderman, and I’ve seen very little of the Thundermans, so Idek none about them. If I’m OOC with him or whatever, charge it to my head and not my heart.