#Constantly torn between 'hes a complete and utter joke'

[teaspoonofdragons]

Schezo imo is the type of guy to he say many stupid thing but ocasionally says genuinely terrifying things like how he is going to mutilate you in pieces

I bet he even waxes poetic about it when he's alone like a nerd. It's a shame that no one will ever take him seriously.

[maysbanks]

she moves in her own way. (jj maybank)

due to the ASTOUNDING response to my first jj fic which i have to say a huuuge thank you to everyone that liked, commented & reblogged, it honestly means the absolute world !! i couldn't wait much longer to start writing for my boy again, i have so many fic ideas and cannot wait to get them out to y'all. this one is shorter than the last, & the title is inspired from the song 'she moves in her own way' by the kooks (lol) but isn't necessarily based off of it, it's just something that i wrote up quickly bc i was in my feels™️ . also i feel very unoriginal with the whole plot and aspect of this but im gonna post it anyway bc i love jj lmao. anyway hope u enjoy !

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, drug use, violence, jj with a gun™️

summary: reader walks the fine line between either pogue or kook, though technically a kook, she ignores all social standings of the obx and jj maybank cannot stop himself from getting caught up in her whirlwind.

( gif isn’t mine! please let me know if it’s yours so i can credit you. )

Everyone seemed to have a different perspective of you, unsurprisingly. You weren't really much of a social butterfly, you kept yourself to yourself, really. Nobody in the Outer Banks knew much about you at all, other than what they had come up with in their heads. And while you tried your best to stay in the shadows, that only seemed to make you stand out more.

You were known for being the best of both worlds - not really a Pogue, but not really a Kook either. While your social status and family wealth suggested you to be a Kook, your free spirit and reckless behaviour fitted you better towards the Pogue style. If anyone were to ask you, you told them you were neither.

Why should a name define you anyway? You thought it was all bullshit, the stupid territorial arguments and the snide comments from both sides. You thought it was ridiculous, you weren't living in The Outsiders, for fuck sake.

You moved in your own way, simple as that. You wouldn't let anyone tell you what to do, where you can't or shouldn't be, it was a free country you'd say, middle finger salute ready to aim towards anyone who dared cross you. You were an enigma, wild and careless, unforgiving and unforgettable. You didn't necessarily like the attention, but you got it. And you knew it, and you played on it, too.

You had used your irresistible charm more than enough times to bail JJ Maybank out of trouble, despite your parents' protest. They didn't have a problem with the Pogues, persay, how could they when your dad been one half of his life before meeting your mom and marrying into the rich lifestyle; they just had a problem with JJ, as many of the parents on the island did. He was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, weed smoking, knuckles constantly torn, skin bruised, quick wit, sarcastic humour, daddy issues, you know the type. Kids loved him, parents hated him.

You were friends with JJ, you supposed. You spent your time with him talking about your days and smoking a joint, meaningful conversations turning into joking and general tomfoolery within seconds. With JJ, you were simply unapologetically you, and JJ never judged you. He never made you choose a side, seemingly content with the fact that you were a little bit of everything, though there was times when he teased you relentlessly about the Kook life, but that was just JJ.

And despite the social differences, him being a Pogue through and through, you technically a Kook, you were drawn to each other pretty easily. Not that you hung out all the time, but you loved every second when you did, usually joined by his group of best friends - John B, Pope, and Kiara. With Kiara a Kook herself but drawn more to the lifestyle of the Pogue's, she understood you more than anyone. You'd bonded a lot, and with each of them too.

JJ loved that you fitted in with them, like a missing puzzle piece. So perfectly, it shook him to its core. The pair of you were close, but he had no idea where he stood with you, like most people never when it came to you. You were like a rollercoaster, taking people for the most exciting ride of their lives that lasted a full three or so minutes before they returned back to solid ground. You'd given JJ a ride a number of times on your non-existent metaphorical rollercoaster, and he'd returned for another ride time and time again. You couldn't say no to that damned boy.

It was a blessing and a curse, the unspoken relationship you shared. A blessing because JJ was the best thing that happened to you, and a curse because that was your downfall. You never got attached to people, never given yourself the chance. But then JJ Maybank had come along, blonde hair and blue eyes, split lip and sharpened teeth, words cunning. You saw him as a challenge at first, the name Kook Princess haunting you as he spoke them, stood in front of you at the keg upon your first real meeting. He'd held a drink out towards you, smirk perfect on his pink lips.

You'd attended over a hundred kegger's in your lifetime, the Pogue parties more inviting than those of the Kook's. You danced and talked to anyone that came across your path, whether it be unknowing Tourons, unjudging Pogues, or unforgiving Kooks, you drew them all in. You didn't fit in with any of them, JJ had realised. You really did move in your own way, he thought. He liked that, he'd decided. And hey, you were pretty cute too.

On that particular night, he'd spoken to you directly for the first time in a long time. "Would the Kook Princess like a drink?" He'd asked, holding the red cup out towards you. You'd eyed the offended object, and subsequently him, too. He smirked at the attention. You had rolled your eyes.

"Don't call me that," you'd said simply, but taking the cup from his hands regardless. You took a sip, relieved to discover that he hadn't tampered with it in any way. You were still considered a Kook to most people, after all. You could never be too careful. "Thanks, Maybank."

And he'd blinked at you, lips suddenly raising to a sly smile as he shrugged, dimples winking at you as they appeared in his cheeks. "Anytime," and he'd spoken your name back to you and you couldn't get enough of the way it sounded coming from his mouth, and you realised hey, this guy is pretty cute, and the rest, as they, is history.

You were in the midst of another infamous Pogue kegger at the current, months after your first introduction to JJ Maybank and his friends, and you stood off to the side, listening to JJ intently as he ranted about the events of the day he'd endured. Starting from finding a Grady White sunken in the marsh, "A fucking Grady Marsh, they're like 500 G's man!", to discovering that the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs, who had coincidentally been found dead that same day, to getting chased by two guys with a gun, to the finding of the motel key from the wreck and breaking in that same motel room, finding a safe full of money and a gun of all things, to their best attempt at laying low which, unsurprisingly, resulted in the kegger in the first place.

JJ was wild in his recite of the events, hands gesturing every which way as you watched him with your lips curled into your mouth, resisting a smile at his antics. When he finished he retelling, you raised an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. "So, complete and utter boring day for you, huh?"

JJ chuckled along with you, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief from everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. "Man, it was crazy," he muttered. He looked at you then, eyes sincere. "I wish you were there with us. It was like something straight from a movie, I'm telling you. I feel like such a badass with that gun."

Your secret joy at his confession of that he wished you were was short lived, as the last of his words sunk in and you felt dread build in the pit of your stomach. You stared at him, him so excited that he hadn't even realised your face had dropped, before you reached out and grabbed his arm, effectively halting his movements and stopping the hurried flow of words that were leaving his mouth.

"JJ," you said carefully, eyes trained on his as he stared, clueless. "Please tell me you did not take that gun from the safe."

Your heart dropped as you saw him falter, his lips helplessly moving but no words coming out. He held a hand up, as if to hush you, though you hadn't started to speak again, and then his hand had dropped just as quick as it was raised, his teeth biting down on his chapped lip as the realisation dawned on you.

"JJ Fucking Maybank," you spat, hands slapping gently at his arms, because you could never really hurt him, you just wanted him to know you were pissed. "Do you realise how fucking careless that is? How much trouble you could get into, if anyone knew you had a gun-" your voice trailed off, your eyes closing as you exhaled. "JJ, please tell me you don't have it on you right now."

His lack of reply was the only answer you needed, and your stomach churned as you stepped back from his figure, suddenly feeling sick. He followed you, though, not letting you get too far as he took your arms in his hands and tried to drag you closer to him once more. You shook your head, arms slipping from his hold as you glared at him fiercely.

"That's so fucking stupid, JJ. You could get into serious trouble with this, trouble I won't be able to get you out of." You warned, because you knew it was true. Your charm and looks could get him out of some trouble to its extent, but it was more so your parents wealth and status that got the both of you out of shit when you managed to get into it, and you also knew your parents would literally throw a fit if you got involved in something like this - carrying a gun was no joking matter. You stepped back once more, hand finding its way to your forehead. "And from a crime scene, no less. Fucking hell."

JJ licked his lips, standing back roughly as you watched, his jaw clenching. "Well I'm not asking for your help here, Princess," he taunted, the nickname sending a wave of annoyance through you. JJ knew it would. "It's not like I ask you to help me, you're just there. Thinking I need help, like I'm some fucking charity case, a fucking doll you picked up from the thrift store that was gonna be thrown out the next day."

You tried to protest, but JJ didn't give you the chance. "I don't need your help all the fucking time. I don't need your pity. I get that you won't understand because why would you? You're a Kook, you get everything you want handed to you on a silver platter. And you can argue and fight me about it all you want, but I know you know it's true."

He sighed heavily, hands running down his face in a sign of defeat. You watched him all the while, thankful that you had ventured off the outskirts of the party so that hopefully nobody had heard JJ shouting at you, your heart wrenching as his blue eyes settled on you. "I'm sorry, JJ," you said finally. You refused to cry, though the desire to at the sight of him being so mad at you tore you apart. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With the gun thing, with everything that I help you with. And I know I'm a Kook, and I know that my parents could afford to buy half of this fucking island if they pleased, but that doesn't define me. I care, okay? And I know I care a lot more than a lot of people in your life."

It was probably a low blow, and you knew it. But JJ took it in, let the words sink into his brain where they stayed there, his fists clenching at his sides. You crossed your arms over your chest, defeated.

"I'm gonna go back to the party," you whispered. "I'll see you around, I guess." You eyed his pockets, unsure of where exactly he held the gun. "Be careful, okay."

And even when you were angry with him, you still tried to make sure he was okay, that he stayed safe. There was multiple occasions you'd showed up unannounced, simply asking how his day was, if he okay, if he had eaten that day, stayed hydrated. At first the attention startled him, he'd never really had anyone look out for him in that aspect, and yet there you were, like an angel sent from the gods themselves, smiling down at him.

You cared, he realised. You cared so much that sometimes he couldn't take it, because he didn't know how. The most family he'd ever gotten close to having in his life was the Pogues, after losing his mother and subsequently losing his father too as he turned into the monster that he was, cold and distant, fists always poised ready for an imaginary fight, and he knew that someday the Pogues would even slip through his fingers. He couldn't let that happen with you. He wouldn't.

He'd started off in your direction, truly, he had. But then John B was grabbing him and averting his attention to him, and he focused on his friend, promising only a minute of his time. You were in his sights, stood a bit away, and he recognised the couple you were talking to as Sarah Cameron and Topper Thorton, Kooks through and through. He held his distaste back, and even held a drink out to offer to Sarah as she and Topper made their way past where he and John B were standing. Big fucking mistake, he realised quickly.

It had all happened in a blur of events, each little bit leading to big finale - as he watched his best friend being held down in the water, powerless to Topper who kneeled over him, hands forcing John B to stay put in the sea. Sarah was screaming at Topper, Pope was holding JJ back with all his might, Kie beside them as she screamed along with Sarah to let John B go. And there you were, suddenly beside JJ, gripping his arm tightly as you took in the sight with a horrified glare. JJ didn't even hesitate; the gun had been pulled from his shorts and was directed at Topper's head in the blink of an eye.

The fury in his veins was red hot and ugly, tearing through every part of him like a vice. This was the Pogues land, their side of the island, and yet the Kooks still thought they could get away with anything and everything - including, apparently, attempting to drown his best friend.

"Your move, broski," JJ uttered through clenched teeth. He could hear the screams of the crowd behind him, and he pulled the gun away from Topper's head and into the direction of the sky, firing two shots towards it as the crowd of people quickly dispersed, screeches sounding from all over. "Now everybody needs to get the fuck off our side of the island!"

He was shoved to the side as Sarah rushed to her boyfriend, telling him he was fucking crazy or something like that, he wasn't really listening. The shots rang in his ears, and the adrenaline of the moment soured through him. Kie and Pope were screaming at him, he could hear their voices distantly. His blue eyes were unfocused for a second, before they looked up, and there you were.

Sent from the gods themselves, once again. You looked vibrant, so insanely alive, lips red and cheeks flushed, eyes bright. You let out a shaky breath as you watched him. JJ clenched his jaw.

"He was going to drown John B," he thought he'd said, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what to keep track of at that moment, Kie and Pope's obvious disapproval at him literally doing the one thing they swore not to do, Sarah and Topper stumbling away from the scene in the distance, John B getting up and muttering something along the lines of he wasn't going to drown me, or you, simply staring at him.

Before he knew what he was doing, JJ had made his way towards you. The gun was still held in his hands, and you swallowed thickly as you eyed it. "You should put that away," you muttered. JJ seemed confused, before he caught on to what you meant and he shoved the gun back to the spot of in between his shorts and his hip. "You literally did the one thing I said not to, you tool."

JJ cracked a smile, small and uncertain as he gazed at you. You stepped closer to him, eyes glancing over his shoulder. "You really pissed them off," you said, meaning his friends.

JJ shrugged, because he didn't care about their opinion, he cared about yours. And if you hated him now, hated the fact that he was just some dirty Pogue who held guns against people's heads now, apparently. "I don't care about what they think," he spoke softly. You looked at him confused. "I care about what you think."

You smiled softly, shrugging one shoulder. "Topper was going to drown John B," you replied, matter of fact. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, who knew what could have happened. Nothing could have stopped him." You bit your lip, hand reaching out and touching his face gently, thumb soothing over the worried line between his brows. "You did the right thing, J. A fucking crazy and stupid thing, potientally dangerous, but the right thing nonetheless."

"Yeah, that's kind of my go-to, if you haven't already noticed," JJ smiled, tongue running over his bottom lip. You rolled your eyes, though playful. "Look, I'm sorry about before, okay. I was a dick. I know you care, but sometimes that's what scares me."

Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on your face as your hand dropped from his face to intertwine with his own hand, his gaze suddenly becoming fixed on your linked hands, his other absentmindedly playing with your fingers that held his hand.

"It's like, you're this untouchable thing. I mean, you don't belong to anyone, you refuse to go by anything other than your name, and you're like this perfect mix between Pogue and Kook even if you do hate it and everyone knows who are you and they make these stories up about you, like that's how popular you are," JJ chuckled. "And then you hang out with me, you look past all the dirty Pogue shit, see me for who I am, and you care. And you care so god dammed much that it fucking terrifies me because nobody's ever cared that much before about me, so why should you?"

His hand left yours to remove the hat from sitting atop his hair and then run his hand through the blonde locks. You could see his tongue running along the outsides of his bottom teeth, the action causing a bump beneath his skin. He looked nervous than you had ever seen him before, and you'd both gotten into enough nerve-wracking situations together to compare. You sighed as your hands reached for his face, gripping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to gaze down at yours.

"JJ Maybank," you started, grinning softly. "You listen to me while I tell you that you deserve the fucking world and more. All this shit that you're going through, all the crap you deal with on a daily basis, you carry it so well that nobody would even know. You fight through each day and I don't even know how you manage it half the time. I admire you so much, J. And I can't help but care about you, even if you don't want me to. I care about you so much, that you wanna know a secret? It scares me too."

JJ gazed down at you lovingly, his forehead moving to rest against yours. You welcomed the embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you gently, as if reassuring himself that you were actually there.

"JJ," you whispered as you were stood in silence for a precise minute, neither of you daring to break the silence until you had. His blue eyes stared into yours, awaiting the next part of your speech. You swallowed your nerves down, figuring fuck it. "I'm so in love with you."

He grinned, his head swooping down before you knew it and his lips pressing against yours in a heated embrace that sent a sensation of butterflies to fly wildly in your stomach, bashing against your ribcage and taking your breath away. Shivers flew up your spine, and every hair on your body stood on edge as the kiss grew heavier, tongues brushing and teeth clattering, bodies pressed against each other as much as they could manage.

When JJ's lips left yours, you almost whined. JJ grinned cheekily, hands digging into your hips. "I love you," he breathed against the skin of your neck as he buried his head there, lips tickling the flesh. "I can't believe you just macked on me while I have a gun in my pocket."

You rolled your eyes and tugged gently on his hair, spurring a laugh from him as you shoved him away and grinned despite yourself. "Do not remind me, please," you warned him, allowing him to pull you into his side as you made your way down the beach. "I still can't believe you took that thing."

"I knew it'd come in handy though," he grinned, pulling you closer with the arm thrown over your shoulder. You wrapped yours around his waist, face squished in his chest as you shook your head.

"You're an idiot, Maybank."

[beyondstupidityblog]

On March 13th 2021, two friends and I did what never could have imagined possible, I watched Freddy Got Fingered for the ninth time, and it will by no means be the last. I’m explaining this to you, dear reader, so you and I have an important understanding between us. You will be reading the ramblings of one whose brain has curdled like milk left out in the hot afternoon sun. Now that introductions are out of the way, let us begin.

Freddy Got Fingered is a 2001 Comedy starring and directed by Tom Green as the Non-Titular Gordon Brody; an aspiring animator who goes to California to realize his dream, only to be constantly crushed under the weight of his father’s expectations. Sounds tame at first, but what lies beneath the veneer of mediocrity is truly impressive. Completely bombed,  audiences hated it, and critics loathed it. Roger Ebert got angry, saying “it isn’t even below the bottom of the barrel” and “Green should be flipping burgers somewhere.”. “Tasteless”, “appalling”, “offensive”, “gross”, and “poo poo,” are just some of the things people have had to say about this film. Animal genitalia can be seen on screen for much longer than anyone could have expected, Tom Green swinging a baby akin to a morning-star with its umbilical cord, said umbilical cord being stolen and taped onto his stomach, gratuitous caning of a nymphomaniac paraplegic, and the dissection of a deer carcass. It is an abrasive experience that leaves a terrible taste in the mouths of those who mention it. Nonetheless, I love this movie. 

You ever see a contemporary art exhibit that has a piece that just looks like garbage somebody left out but in actuality is a tongue-and-cheek allusion to the pitiful state of modern art? That garbage is Freddy Got Fingered, and that exhibit is Hollywood. At face value it just seems like a poorly done film by a comedian trying to use his name to get a few butts in the seats before his irrelevancy arrives, but when scrutinized as a commentary of comedy films do the pieces start to fall into place. Tropes like the Protagonist being an unremarkable honkey, gross-out designed to get some cheap quick chuckles, side-characters who occupy the space solely for comedic relief, a shoe-horned romantic side-plot, and an equally as shoehorned in happy ending are all present in a mocking fashion. So many of these Hollywood schlockfests that this movie is paying homage to abuse tropes in some vain attempt to trick the audience into thinking they’re having a good time, when in reality it just reminds viewers of films that they’ve already watched before and could be enjoying instead. All of the awkward and uncomfortable scenes of gross-out and romance are purposeful, because nothing is quite as awkward and uncomfortable than a film disengaging the audience with its own mediocrity. “This is what it’s like to endure this trash!” Drunkenly screams Freddy Got Fingered atop the tallest piece of furniture in the room, while also exposing its genitals to keep you from getting too comfortable around it. Unlike the films it is parodying, its obsession with making a fool out of audiences rips them away from the comfort of the cinema, making them genuinely ask if it is worth wasting their time watching a film called Freddy Got Fingered. Even the title is an intentional slight, as it seems to be completely untethered to the actual plotline and is instead a reference to a seemingly inconsequential scene. But then again, that is the point of it all. Tom Green is an artist, and on his canvas is a portrait of Hollywood with all of the ugly little imperfections that cause a movie like this to be created. But this is just the meta-narrative of Freddy Got Fingered, something that you could find all over the internet. Why do I resonate with it so much, and what about it makes it so exceptional that led to this unhealthy fascination?

    Every instance that I’ve rewatched Freddy Got Fingered has always brought about a new side to it, and in the process leaves me craving for more. Gord is an interesting take on the average leading man. He is on the surface bland and inoffensive, made so in order to allow the majority of the audience to immediately identify with him, said group being 20-something skater guys with unrealistic expectations of themselves. Made especially ironic when after the introduction of Gord as an adept skateboarding rebel escaping from authority, he starts to show that in reality he is an unlikeable, bratty, entitled, and all around unpleasant person. Barely a scene passes before we see him masturbate a horse while exclaiming he is a farmer to his father who is not present, seemingly a crude gag but is in reality an insight into his low self worth caused by his imposter syndrome stemming from distant paternal relationship. I would like to remind you, dear reader, that I am still writing of Freddy Got Fingered, in case you were beginning to think I have lost my mind (The answer is yes by the way). All throughout the film Gordon Brody puts on masks for different situations, never allowing himself to be who he is. When infiltrating the Animation studio where he wishes to pitch his cartoons, he pretends to be a mailman to get past reception and then impersonates a police officer when the former stops being effective. Donning the visage of a British Bobby, he dashes into the restaurant where the man he is searching for, Mr. Wallace, is eating. Showing him his cartoons, Wallace is impressed with the potential they have, but says that they are incoherent and lack real substance. Upon rejection, Gord puts a pistol in his mouth before Wallace stops him and advises what he should do to improve. Gord was genuinely ready to blow his brains out the back of his skull if he wasn’t able to get his show greenlit, and it hit me in that moment that he isn’t just some random jackass, but a victim of detrimentally low self-esteem.

The origins of his complex are made apparent when he goes back home to Oregon and are reintroduced to his Family. We see that his father Jim, played by Rip Torn, is disappointed in his return and begins to sneer at him for his failure. This father and son dynamic always has tension in every scene from this point onwards. Gord, who just wants to be accepted for who he is and not judged by what the world expects him to be, is always at the receiving end of Jim’s wrath, who values his idea of a successful life over the happiness of his sons. From here it becomes little wonder why Gord is the way he is, all his life he was told that who he was is not good enough, he has to be what his father wants if he is to be considered worthy of not only love, but being treated with a modicum of dignity. Whenever Gord acts eccentric or divulges his interests to his father, they are met with either resentment supplemented by verbal assault, or physical violence. After a late-night skateboard outing to escape from his father’s wrath goes awry, he visits his convalescing friend in the hospital, whereupon he meets one of the more interesting characters in relation to Gord, the love interest Betty.   

A horny wheelchair bound temptress may not seem like it upon first glance, but Betty is actually the most interesting character out of the entire cast. She feels genuine, introduced as a bored receptionist flipping a coffee creamer idly. Gord immediately strikes up a conversation, whereupon he and the audience find out she has an interest in physics, and apparently an interest in him as well. Betty is strangely well written for what most considered at the time to be a crass sexual joke, so much so that she would actually be a better protagonist than him. She is everything Gord is not, she’s smart, funny, ambitious, and  kind to a fault. Even her side plot to create a rocket powered wheelchair makes for a much more unique plot than the one given. Even Gord reciprocates this sentiment in their meeting, lying that he is a stockbroker in an attempt to impress her. In fact, sectioning her off as just the dull protagonist's love interest is a jab at how women in these movies are only there to serve in the development for the male protagonist, just nothing more than their muse. Nonetheless, without this relationship the movie would lose a lot of its soul. Romantic chemistry in comedy films is always hit or miss, but Gord and Betty do seem to have it surprisingly. They’re both silly and impulsive, creatively driven to a fault, but just different enough to eek out the best and worst in them. Gord  thinks that what he wants to do with his life is wasteful, but Betty doesn’t. Now I don’t mean that she directly affirms that he is worthwhile like most poorly written love interests would, stroking their lover’s(and by extension the director’s) ego, rather she confronts him with her optimism. He asks if she would feel stupid and like a loser if her experiment failed. Taken aback at first, she questions why she would, relaying that her failures are just as important as her successes. Gord’s self-worth is directly tied to his ability to succeed, whereas Betty doesn’t need this affirmation. Their dialogue further cements how detrimental his father’s overbearingness was to his outlook, and how he is slowly beginning to realize how destructive that mindset is. 

At their dinner date, Jim sees Gord and Betty across the restaurant, then reveals that Gord was lying to both him and her about his office job while poking fun at her disability, leading to a father-son scuffle that throws the entire floor into utter chaos. Cops show up, Gord and Jim are detained, and Betty bails Gord out. Most mediocre comedies at this point would have the love interest be upset that her significant other lied to her, leading to him having to make things right to repair their relationship before the happy ending. Breaking the mold, Betty does not get angry with Gord even a smidgen, choosing to be understanding of his situation now that she caught a glimpse into his home-life. She just plain likes Gord, willing to put up with him more than she really should, but still chooses to look past his lies and self-destructive nature for who he truly is, someone who just wants to be accepted by the world around him. Someone just like her.

Right after that enaction of social terrorism performed by the Brody father and son duo, they decide it would be best to go to family therapy and assail the audience with what I fondly refer to it as, “The Scene.” “The Scene” is Freddy Got Fingered’s statement to the world, it is what instills a man with the impetus to rewatch a glorified stoner daydream for the ninth time and leave him wanting more! Gord accuses his father, in a final act of defiance, of molesting his younger brother Freddy. During the ensuing confusion Gord picks up a bust of Sigmund Freud and throws it into the glass window pane, allowing him to escape into the evening sun. The authorities take Freddy away and send him to The Home for Molested Children, and the family slowly unravels from then on. Besides the heavy handed metaphor of Freud’s theories being used as a way for Gord to escape his predicament while simultaneously discrediting them, “The Scene” also recontextualizes Freddy, innocuous of a character as he is, as Gord’s foil. He is in the movie very little but when he is it is to serve one of two purposes: To be compared to Gord, or to be treated as an object. During breakfast much earlier in the film after a fight between Gord and Jim, Freddy tries to explain to his brother that he should grow up. Gord, surprisingly, talks down to him and halts the conversation.

Gord: “He's driving me insane.”

Freddy: “No. No, you're driving him insane. You're older than me and you still live at home. I have a job, you know. I pay my own way.”

Gord: “You work in a bank. Should I be dazzled?”

Freddy: “Well, at least I don't live at home!”

Gord: “No, you live in a tiny shithole and you come here to eat for free.”

With these lines it is plain to see that despite Freddy’s idea of success directly lining up with his father’s, he is even more pitiful than Gord. What little we know of him is to show that his acquiescence to his father’s expectations has left him bereft of not only genuine personal success, but of dignity itself. When child protective services come to take him away, he is half naked, mouth agape, watching open heart surgery on television, a palpable indication of emptiness. He isn’t treated as an adult either, as his protests to the police fall on deaf ears as both them and the psychologist infantilize him. Why would Tom Green name this movie after a character like Freddy, whose lack of presence and characterization make him little more than an afterthought when looking back on the story? Or did I just answer my own question? Freddy is not a character because he is not allowed to be one, he is just too passive and accepting of his circumstances for him to stand out. All he can be is a doll that Jim uses to dress up as the perfect son, and this passiveness leads to Gord, the “failure,” to both pity and resent what he let himself become. That’s why Gord accuses their father of molesting him, after all he does narratively violate Freddy’s autonomy by consistently making decisions for him. Evidently enough, as soon as Gord dons a suit for a quick bit Jim is elated because he believes that his son finally gave in to his demands for him to get a job, because he is acting more like his obedient brother. In this sense Freddy is the most tragic member of the Brody clan, a literal manchild whose growth was stunted by overbearing guardians. When I think of him, a bonsai tree comes to mind. Sure, it looks healthy, but when you realize that it could have grown into a much bigger plant if it were not for its small pot, that realization of wasted potential comes with a tinge of melancholy.

I want to end this essay with a moral that I took away from Freddy Got Fingered, as strange enough as that sounds, and what it has to say about art as a whole. Put simply, this is a story about revenge. Despite and because of his Father’s harsh ways, Gord managed to take from the trauma he sustained throughout his life and sublimated it into his animation. Creation not only lets him heal, but also acts as retaliation against Jim once he becomes successful. So long as you have the drive to prove everyone’s doubts and admonishments wrong by persevering out of wicked spite, you will have the last laugh. Freddy Got Fingered is a story about revenge through artistic expression, and I think that is quite beautiful.

[long-cosmos-overhead]

The Hobbit ~ Seeing Their S/o Getting Stabbed On The Battlefield

Bilbo Baggins

He’s in hysterics he can’t describe how torn he feels. Bilbo loves you to death there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you and watching everything unfold was overwhelming he cries and holds you close until help arrrives but even then he’s reluctant to let you go in fear you won’t come back

He’s not the best fighter but he’d run right in to defend you even against the worst of enemies, Bilbo would keep you safely behind him trying his best to take down whoever was trying to harm you so he could get help as soon as possible

Bilbo stays by you the whole time unless you’re not going to make it and the healers need him outside but even so it takes convincing by the company because he doesn’t want you to wake up without him surrounded by healers completely disorientated

He’s a mix of emotion when you’re finally awake, he’s upset, relived, angry and emotionally damaged he’d definitely scold you for not being careful and safe but quickly break and hold you to him once he sees how much you need him at the moment

He doesn’t let you out of his sight if something is remotely dangerous and he’s always there should you need him it’s one thing he prays to never go through again he almost lost you, he takes you back home with him to his little hole in the ground where you’re safe

Thorin Oakenshield

For a moment everything blurs and the image of you falling to the ground replays in his head and he screams in agony and rage running right into your attacker killing them within seconds, he grips you to him he needs you to get by in life pleading you to stay with him until help comes

It was so painful to watch Thorin, the seemingly heartless king, crumble all he wanted was you, to hold you, to kiss you, to whisper his love for you if you were to leave him he didn’t know what he’d do. He stayed by you the whole time waiting for you to open your eyes he was on his knees at this point

This was effectively the last time you would ever set foot into battle again he worries for you endlessly and does not want to almost loose you a second time if you argued with him he would get very cold very quick reliving the memories of blood soaking your clothes was too much

He would make sure you had the best healers possible it’s bad enough that you’re in so much pain he doesn’t want anything or anyone to hurt you more he grits his teeth and stays by your side the whole time refusing to leave your side no matter how many people try to convince him

He waits on you hand and foot not letting you leave the bed to get anything until you were fully healed the event changed him a lot, he proclaimed his love a lot more, kept you as safe as possible and pretty much you were at each other’s sides for the rest of your days

Kili

He’s at your side in an instant usually you’re never far from each other should you have to fight, he doesn’t care who hurt you it could be Azog himself he’s already trying to take them down all he can think about is you, each memory you’ve ever shared is racing furiously though his mind

He cradles you in his arms talking to you trying to keep you awake putting pressure on your wound as much as it pains him to hurt you crying all the while, he can’t bring himself to let go of you it takes coaxing from his brother to hand you over he just wants you okay again

He’s been shot by an arrow before he knows how much it hurts but to be stabbed he can imagine the pain your in he’s not his usual joking self in fact he doesn’t say a word to anyone for hours he’s too absorbed in his mind to pay any attention

The second he’s allowed in your room he cuddles next to you in bed carefully he doesn’t wrap an arm around you in case it reopens the wound whispering how he’s sorry and he won’t ever put you in danger again for a little while he blames himself believing if he helped you, you’d be okay

He’s such a sweetheart, he brings blankets, food, water, helps you wash, gives you gentle kisses and lets you cuddle up to his side (although it’s him that does that the most) anything you need he’s already got

Fili

He’s strong but for the love of valar he’s panicked news spread from the company that you may not make it and he ran faster than he’s ever ran before to get to you taking you from Oin’s arms into his own kissing your forehead whilst anyone nearby tried to dress your wounds

Silent tears stream down his face but he tries his best to keep himself together for your sake telling you how much he loves you every few seconds after a while seeing you in such a state broke him and he started sobbing over your body

The moments where he has to stay away are the cruelest and longest wait in his life he constantly asks if you’re okay and when he can see you getting himself worked up all over again, he goes to Thorin to sit with he knows and keeps quiet leaving him to his thoughts

He feels like the luckiest dwarf on the planet when you’re stable, he sits by you day and night singing dwavish songs and fiddling with your hair he makes you feel as calm and comfortable as he can keeping your weapons in his possession since sharing weapons in dwavish culture was intimate only for lovers and family

No more fighting battles without secure armour, plenty of spare weapons and your very handsome and loving dwarf, Fili, he knows now the value of life better than before and he was extremely lucky to still have you he won’t give that up easily

Thranduil

He’s livid and broken whoever harmed you was taken straight to the most painful death known to any living being Thranduil loves you more than he’s ever loved anything from the kisses after a meeting to making him laugh hysterically on the throne tears are pouring from his eyes

He’s sobbing uttering ‘my starlight’ ‘my queen’ over and over, they’re your favourite nicknames from him never failing to make you blush, he gets any form of transportation to get you to a healer clutching you to him as tight as possible hes desperate now, he’s lost before if he looses you he looses his world

He’ll stay beside you the whole time, holding your hand whispering soft words in elvish feeling his heart break when they tell him you’re going to be in a lot of pain for the next few weeks, he already treats you like you’re the rarest jewel in the world but he wasn’t letting you move by yourself for a long time

When you awake it’s the most relieving thing he’s endured pressing an emotional kiss to your forehead begging you never to scare him like that again that’s the last time you’re ever going to look at a battlefield he will never let you fall between his fingers ever again placing more kisses to your face

For the next few months, Thranduil goes complete protective mode, you don’t leave his sight, he carries you around a lot, he grips you to him at night, if anyone else other than close friends or family touches you it takes convincing to let them stay in the kingdom. Thranduil will never ever let you get hurt as long as he lives

Legolas

He’s screaming pleas for you to stay with him, you’re his light and his everything you’ve helped him through so much, his family issues, insecurities, worries and now you were a mix of blood and tears in his arms it’s the worst thing he’s ever endured in his life

He can’t help but run to his father once you’re in the medics tent the amount of people he trusts completely are few he needs reassurance and truth something Thranduil has be known for even if the truth hurts. He cries in Thranduil’s fatherly embrace for hours

He recalls every memory you had together, how much he loves you, how sorry he is, how he wishes for you back. He has someone to report back on how you’re doing every hour until he can sit by your side and watch you himself he won’t leave you until you’re well enough to move

He bursts into tears again when you wake up pressing passionate kisses all over your face cuddling you under the sheets as gently as elvenly possible, he changes your clothes, washes and braids your hair when you feel up to it sometimes caring you around the gardens

He trains you in every single self defence and offence types he knows until you’re unbeatable matching the skills of him, you’re never allowed into dangerous situations without him and it took hundreds upon hundreds of years for him to even let you set foot on an empty battlefield again

Elrond

He can fight and won’t struggle to destroy whoever hurt you, he’s in tears feeling like a piece of him has been cruelly stripped from him and his blood runs cold once he sees how fast the crimson stain is growing on your clothes through your armour

Elrond’s the best healer most of Middle Earth know despite living miles and miles away you’re in the best hands but there is still a high chance he can’t save you, he crouches down beside you checking for a pulse he’s relieved when he finds one but even more worried when he feels how weak it is

He gives you every ounce of medical attention he‘s ever learned praying for you to live speaking soft words of “meleth come back to me” and “I love you more than the shimmering moonlight” wiping away tears which were streaming down his face when you jolt and cry in pain

When everything he can do is done he keeps you close wrapped tightly in his arms like if he let you go you’d vanish and he’d be reduced to nothing, he can’t do anything until help arrives except sit there with you in his embrace keeping you as stable as possible knowing he’s done the best any elf can to keep you alive the rest was up to you

He’s feels so incredibly guilty watching your face scrunch in pain and small whimpers leave your lips but eternally thankful when you’re okay dried tears still upon his cheeks when he finally gets you home to Rivendell emotionally whispering how much he loves you to your tired body. He can’t bring himself to leave your side ever again

Lindir

His heart is broken into tiny pieces unable to speak only letting out sobs as he cries into your hair, it’s Elrond that takes you away from him rushing to keep you alive to fix Lindir’s shattering heart and keep you with the elf that loves you more than life

He’s truly devastated crying his eyes out all the while his hands shaking madly pleading anyone to save you it was terribly painful to watch, Lindir is a young elf and he loves you with every inch of his heart it brightens peoples day to see him sit by the fountain and braid your hair or leave a gentle kiss upon your lips now all of that could be gone

When Elrond walked out after hours of waiting he bombarded him with questions about your wellbeing that he was told to sit down and breathe after he said you were going to be okay Lindir had never felt more conflicted with emotion in his life

He raced in to see you respectfully pulling a blanket over your sleeping form and removing any armour you still had on he sat by your bedside for hours bringing food and water in case you awoke hungry or thirsty he was so sweet to get a bunch of flowers on the way so you’d have something nice to wake up to (although Lindir is the nicest thing in Rivendell)

He showers you in affection when you wake, helping you sit up, changing your bedsheets, helping you cuddle up to him, fluffing your pillows, gently kissing you and bringing food and the most beautiful flowers you’d seen he almost breaks into tears when you mention going to battle and pleads you not to which always works

@kristinpawz

[border-spam]

Seifa’s thoughts on isolation and the loss of her friends and the twins, having fled the Holy City towards late COV.

She mostly deals with it by being so goddamn angry with herself.

Every new update from the city is a reminder of her utter failings over the last 5 years. She fucked up. Completely and utterly. She made every wrong choice she could have. She walked straight into every mistake that she should have been smart enough to see coming, and she’s pissed. Constantly pissed with herself.

It’s inescapable, there is no one else to blame. 

If a friend had told her they were planning on taking the steps she had - settling with a cult, not cutting ties with its leaders even if she cared about them, putting down roots when that way of life had never worked out before, she would have laughed at their naivety. And still, she’d charged ahead and done it all anyway. like she was better than the people she would have advised against it, as if it wasn’t going to be a mistake if she did it. Like things were somehow going to work out because it was HER making these shitty choices and not someone else… stupid, egotistical moron.

She wasn’t herself out here, she was lonely, something Sei had never felt before, had never been in a position to feel. Really lonely, and the messages from oil hands, friends in the city, or traders with ears on the ground and fingers on their ship ignitions ready to rocket off planet and pretend they’d never heard of the Children Of The Vault? They just keep cutting deeper.

Ven, JK, Eli, a hundred scarred faces of mechs and engineers with missing teeth and twinkling eyes, drinking buddies, hell, even some of the clergy - she’d had friends there and nothing on this off planet base. Just a title and a lot of fearful glances, the luxury quarters of a Saint and the lingering fear of being hunted down as one. Thank fuck she still seemed to have friends in very high places… but then again, that was one of her mistakes.

She’d let people in, given little pieces of Seifa to those she cared about rather than hoarding those facets safely like she always had before. Now she was weak, isolated on this shitty little dead planet surrounded by asslickers and morons, spread too thin and too far apart in the hands of other people to be safe and whole in herself anymore. She wasn’t a rock, she didn’t feel like her. She was unsure.

Sei had put down roots on Pandora when she’d known damn well it was a bad idea. She’d played pretend that this was a long term gig, that it wouldn’t go tits up for once, that she’d be able to scrape out some mockery of a life with the same faces and the same friendships and a family of some sort. Stupid. That wasn’t something people like her got, she’d.. she’d set up a home for fuck’s sake, hung ornaments from the ceiling, potted goddamn plants like a little girl playing house. Idiot.

There was a strain in Eli’s messages, his upbeat friendliness didn’t flow the way it used to, voice mails had an edge to his laughs, the energy wasn’t there. He was drained, the world she’d run from was weighing heavy on someone who didn’t deserve the burden or the pain. His brother was breaking and it was impossible to miss. 

Ven would drop painful truths in between jokes with her when they would call or message, he’d share updates on the city and districts. Hint that Troy was pushing him far further than he could manage, demanding flawless results in every project or operation the departments he managed ran, then turning on Ven if he hadn’t warned of poor outcomes when the inevitable happened. That hadn’t been part of his contract, that wasn’t his job. 

Ven’s foresight had been offered to the twins as a way of steering major choices towards the best possibilities, but he’d been clear even when he first approached them that Siren touched futures were blurry and difficult to read. He’d guide them, and he had in return for the medical support Eli needed like they’d agreed on when he joined the cult, but Troy’s desperate fixation on perfectionism was eating him alive while working him to the bone. Ven was losing himself to exhaustion and fear of what would happen to his brother if he stopped being useful to Tyreen… and Seifa wasn’t there to help.

Jak-Knife would send on photos mostly, things they thought would make her smile. Landscapes, the dunes at night, the lower city in the early morning as grates steamed and cool sunlight gleamed off chrome and neon. Delicate waxy petals of desert blossoms, a flock of Rak outlined against the moons. Their text updates were sporadic, they had still been learning to read and write when she’d left, but Ven filled her in often. 

They were falling apart. Weight lost and muscle heavy over bones now, The Blight Devil was torn between serving the twins and protecting their people. Troy’s Vanguard and the Crusaders as a whole were stretched thin, overworked. JK was leading raid after raid with no time to rest, being pushed as hard and for the hours on end that Troy forced himself to, and Ven’s concern was palpable. 

They were going to get hurt, he’d said. And they had. She wasn’t sure if it was the injury, or the betrayal of a brother’s cruel claws that would take longer to heal.

She missed the twins desperately. Both of them differently, but both of them still. 

Tyreen was terrifying even now. Every time a new message arrived treating this situation like it didn’t exist, like everything was normal and she hadn’t spent a year threatening Seifa with gallows humor and a smile that never reached her eyes, she felt that grim panic again. Even then, she missed her so much. Missed that beautiful girl with the laugh like tinkling glass and nothing but a drive to be loved fueling her. Missed the late nights, the long talks, the bitching about a lanky asshole.

Troy… she’d let Troy get far too close, and he was eating her alive. 

Another stupid fucking mistake she knew was wrong but had walked into regardless, like she had pretended she couldn’t see it coming. She’d said it wouldn’t happen again, promised herself that “love” shit was over well before she’d met the twins, and yet it had happened anyway. He’d been so broken and so alone. She’d cared too much, pitied him enough that she’d slowly, painlessly, split her ribs apart and taken him in, embraced the flickering light of who she saw he could be if given the chance.

She’d protected him inside the cage of herself for so long that she’d not even noticed when it was he’d sunk gilded fangs into her heart. God, she wanted to fucking dig him out now, claw him out of her chest like rot, but it was too late. She’d been too stupid. Cutting him away now would bleed her dry. She couldn’t even run properly because of him, and that’s all she’d ever been really.. good at. Running, being free, now she was trapped by the threads she’d woven herself into willingly, it was all her fault.

He wouldn’t respond, and being ignored would be bearable if he wasn’t still sending her things. The idiot, the pathetic joke of a man, refusing to reply to any of her concerns but still making sure she knew he was thinking about her, like the packages of components she’d mentioned being interested in years ago, or the gifts of jewelry that suited her better than any she’d think of choosing meant anything in comparison to just saying sorry. Like he was punishing himself by refusing to communicate and not understanding how much it was hurting her too.

God.

She found herself often thinking she never should have helped them. That if she’d laughed at Ty, kept walking and ignored her pleads for help instead, maybe she would have found someone else in that junk yard. Someone who would have helped her and Troy properly.. helped them better than a train wreck like Seifa could have, and they would have turned out ok.

Maybe all three of them would be happy, the COV wouldn’t be scouring across Pandora like a cancer, maybe in the end it was all her fault for pretending to be a good person and helping, when she knew damn well she wasn’t. She was just trash, it was all she’d ever really been.

The updates from planet side confirming what she knew would happen just made it worse, every day. Rubbed in the failures, made her ignored messages sting sharper. She missed her friends. She missed the Twins she’d known, she missed that stupid, pointless fake little life she’d lied to herself she might have. Every day is just another tick on a sheet, a fraction of herself and the woman she was slipping away, and a step closer to running and never looking back.

Asks are Open!

[gwilyoubemine]

Professor Gwil finding you and another boy in a closed room making out (as the two of you are non exclusive) and he gets really jealous and so takes you into his room and punishes you on his desk

this has been sitting in my notes for too long so here goes,, nearly 7K words worth of prof!gwil (in some sort of fic headcanon hybrid?)

warning: sexual content ahead

• your free period today was being spent tutoring- a task you had taken on last minute, and only because you owed finn a favour. finn was one of your classmates and when it came to tests, he just about scraped a pass most of the time.

•  with finn struggling with biology the most and exam season just around the corner, it was no surprise that he had come running to you with that pleading tone of his and his toothy grin, begging you to at least give him a few lessons.

• the pair of you had only become acquainted a few months ago at a party hosted by a mutual friend. finn was a nice enough guy. he managed to be somewhat charming and had a surprisingly honeyed smile. what started off with casual conversation and a bit of dancing eventually ended up with the two of you drunkenly making out in the bathroom by the end of the night.

• the monday following was awkward, to say the least. during class you felt finn's gaze burning into the side of your head and by lunch, you found yourself torn between wanting to get the imminent conversation over with and wanting to disappear entirely. your friends, unlike you, found the entire situation beyond entertaining and exacerbated things by showing you photos they had taken of the two of you, drunk and all over each other.

• you managed to avoid finn for a solid week before he finally cornered you after your history lesson. when he asked if you wanted to put that night aside to focus on building a friendship, you agreed, wanting to be done with all the awkwardness as soon as possible. whilst you didn't exactly become best friends, you nodded to each other in class and spoke occasionally at social gatherings. and soon you fell into something of a bad habit, finding finn midway through a party when you were tipsy and letting him take you somewhere private. 

• the only reason you agreed to tutor him was because he had helped you out when you needed an emergency ride to the train station. the fact you had recently put an end to whatever unspoken arrangement the two of you had also pushed you towards accepting his request. it certainly made it easier to entertain the thought of being in a classroom alone with him.

• "thank you for agreeing to this, by the way. i really can't fail these exams coming up."

• you were seated in one of the free biology classrooms with one of the chunky revision guides between you. "it's fine, really." you waved him off and opened the book up to the section on photosynthesis. "you wanted to go over this, right?"

• finn sat up straighter and eyed the title of the chapter. "yeah...i really hate photosynthesis. i never knew plants were so complicated, to be honest with you." 

• "well, you just have to learn what's in the book and you'll be fine." you offered him a reassuring smile and his lips jerked into a grin. "so what are you teaching me first, miss?" he asked and you shoved him with your foot as you pulled your laptop out of your bag.

• you went through the short presentation you had made on the topic- covering why plants photosynthesised, the main pigments involved, the importance of the formation of atp and the details of the two different stages that made up the process. and much to your surprise, finn seemed to pay attention through the entirety of your presentation. he made notes after each slide and bombarded you with a stream of questions to clarify what he was learning. you asked him questions every now and then and he managed to answer most of your questions correctly.

• "you're doing really well." you commented, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. "i'm impressed." 

• "jeeze, y/n, i'm not as stupid as you think." he retorted and the wide grin plastered on his face assured you he was not actually offended. "with you laying out the content this way and explaining everything in simpler terms...it's easier to grasp," he paused and rubbed the back of his head with a chuckle. "well, most of it."

• "i'm glad you think so. i have a sheet of questions for you based on my slides. i think it will really help you." you handed him your sheet and he looked over the questions with an appreciative nod. "looks good. i'll do them now."

• ten minutes into the question sheet, finn was getting restless. you put down the book you had been reading to pass the time and cocked your head at him. "had enough of studying?"

• "i have answered most of them, have a look." he shuffled closer to you so your knees were touching and pushed the sheet towards you. he had in fact answered most of the questions. you looked over at him and his gaze lowered to your lips, his voice dropping a tone. "you know, y/n, we have some time until we have to be out of this room.

• you swallowed as your mind turned to gwilym. the idea of kissing someone else felt wrong and the fact it felt wrong managed to irk you. whatever was between the two of you was casual, that much was clear- he had never made anything was exclusive and never expressed any opinions in regards to you hooking up with anyone else. 

• finn's hand settled on your knee and you bit down on your lip as he started to close the distance between the two of you. you didn't press forward to kiss him but when he took your chin and brushed his lips against yours you didn't stop him either. 

• you had been making out for a few minutes when the sound of someone clearing their throat had you both scrambling away from each other, quick to compose yourselves. finn kept his eyes on the floor but your gaze flew straight to the doorway, your cheeks hot with embarrassment. of course it was professor lee himself. 

~ ~ ~ ~

• it was the first day of the new school year when you first laid eyes on your biology professor. the first thing you noticed was how handsome he was, with defined cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. he had a neatly trimmed beard and wore a long sleeved shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and tall frame. he sat down at the desk in front of the classroom and spun his chair around to face you all, his lips breaking into a serene smile that had you completely unable to tear your eyes away from him.

• once he was settled, he swiftly began to call out everyone's names to mark down who was present and who was not. this was when he finally looked your way and met your eyes, eyes that had been curiously drinking him in from the minute he stepped into the classroom. "y/n...is my pronunciation correct?" he asked and you nodded dumbfoundedly in response, gripping a little too hard onto your pen. the sound of your name wrapped in his velvet voice made your stomach coil. 

• his gaze stayed glued to yours for a beat too long, to the point where you had to look away in embarrassment, your cheeks flaming with warmth. you were all too aware of your heart hammering away inside of your chest. you had never been attracted to anyone like this before. especially to a man his age- a man who was now your new biology professor.

• whether this fact was a curse or a blessing remained debatable to you. he ended up being a fantastic professor, he knew his field inside out and was engaging with how he taught his academic content. he was undeniably funny, even if most of his jokes were dad jokes, and somehow managed to be kind and yet firm with his students. you couldn't have asked for a better teacher.

 • your infatuation with your professor continued to grow more problematic as time went on. you constantly found yourself losing concentration in class and watching him as he marked work, your eyes eager to take in every possible detail- the way his features looked as he concentrated on the papers in front of him, his habit of absentmindedly biting on the end of his pen, his tendency to push back his glasses and rub his chin whenever he was in deep thought. 

• one day you managed to muster up the courage to find him in his office during break. you wanted to ask him for one-on-one help with a tough piece of homework he had given you this week. you expected him to be too preoccupied to help, to dismiss you with something vague, but instead he kindly beckoned you inside and pulled up a chair for you to sit down next to him.

• he started to explain the more complicated aspects of dna replication to you and whilst you were able to catch certain phrases and words, something about dna strands having a directionality and something about 'okazaki fragments', paying attention to him proved to be difficult with him situated so close to you, your legs so close to brushing against his. you were close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, to breathe in the intoxicating scent of the cologne he wore. every time he lifted his eyes to meet yours - his attempt to make sure you were on the same page as him - you felt yourself becoming short of breath. 

• "are you following me, y/n?" he would ask every now and then, to which you would utter out a "yes, sir" even when you had no idea what he had just said. you managed to snap out of your trance and pay attention eventually, and after he had run through everything, you asked him if it would be okay to stay in his office to finish off your work- seeing as there were no quiet places to study during break. 

• professor lee seemed hesitant at first but after reassuring him that you would work in silence, he let you complete your homework at the small table perched in the corner of his office.

• you ended up doing work at that table frequently. you often found yourself in his office after school hours, completing your other assignments there. professor lee didn't seem to mind the company. most of the time you both worked in silence but you would occasionally discuss class work. and at some point during the year, the pair of you started to dabble in small talk- sharing a few personal stories, inquiring about weekend plans, discussing your favourite tv shows and movies. and whilst professor lee seemed to enjoy conversing with you, he would often steer the conversation back to more appropriate topics whenever you got carried away. 

• as the months went by, you began to see more of each other. you even started to leave school at the same time, chatting all the way down to the first set of gates and then parting ways when you got to the staff car park. he would always leave you with a "have a good evening, y/n" before offering one of his charming smiles and striding off to his car, giving you a little wave as he climbed inside. your heart was always racing as you watched him drive away.

• your infatuation soon began to bleed into your subconscious, manifesting in your dreams. when you finally allowed yourself to consciously indulge in your affection for him, you found it extremely hard to divert your thoughts to other things. you wondered what it would feel like to run your fingers across his beard, to take his face in your hands and kiss him senseless. you ached to touch him.

• your imagination began to play out the same scenes over and over again, professor lee taking off his blazer and hastily unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a broad set of shoulders and a defined chest, his hungry gaze fixated on you. you imagined him frantically clearing his desk just to pick you up and have you sit on it, his large hands eager to strip you of your clothes and caress every inch of you, his lips hot and urgent against your skin.

• the day everything changed started out like any other day. you had chemistry, psychology and geography, a normal friday, and during your free period your friends made plans to meet in the park on saturday seeing as summer had finally come around, gracing england with good weather. finn managed to catch you before your next class and his breathlessness had you raising an eyebrow in amusement. "good job i caught you before history. are you coming to ben's party tonight?"

• "uh...i don't know…" you muttered, your hands fiddling with the straps of your backpack. in all truthfulness, you weren't exactly jumping at the opportunity to commit yourself to another party- you wanted to spend the night watching 80s movies, tucked into your bed. 

• "i knew you would say that. come on, it will be fun. ben's got monopoly too, i know you like playing that, especially when you're drunk" 

• whilst you couldn't deny that fact, you were still unsure. "fine, i'll think about it and give you an answer later?" finn perked up instantly, clearly optimistic about the possibility of you dropping by. "alright, i'll see you later then...if you come." 

• as you made your way towards your next class, your options for that night danced around in your head. you didn't know if you had the energy to go out and socialise. you also knew that finn would probably make a move on you if you did show up, and you didn't have the heart to kiss him when someone else was occupying your mind. the image of your professor flashed in your head and your pulse picked up instantly. 

• despite you not having biology that day and it being friday (meaning most students were making a beeline straight to the school gates) you, on the other hand, found yourself making your way towards professor lee's office when your last class ended. 

• you knocked once and then twice before you heard a quiet "come in" and the familiarly of his silky voice stirred up an array of feelings inside your chest- excitement, anxiousness, tenderness. you poked your head around the door and found his gaze already fixed in your direction. "hello sir... is it okay if i come in?"

• "yes y/n... of course, come in" he beckoned you inside with a quick hand gesture, and you closed the door behind you and offered him a shy smile. professor lee had taken off his blazer and was sat in his neatly ironed white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose and his hair was slightly more mussed than usual, a result of what you assumed was hours of running his hands through his hair as he worked. 

• "doing work on a friday afternoon, y/n?" he asked, raising a brow. you made your way to the table you had become so familiar with and pulled out the biology homework he had given you in class earlier that week. "i figured i would get my homework done before the weekend, sir." 

• he nodded, a smile gracing his lips, and the two of you fell into silence as you both began to work. the minutes seemed to tick by more slowly than usual. you tried to focus solely on your homework but it was impossible with the fluttering feeling in your stomach that never seemed to ebb, not with your professor around. you settled on rotating between writing down an answer, staring blankly at the questions you didn't understand and sneaking glances at him every now and then.

• he eventually diverted his attention away from the papers in front of him to ask you what you were working on. you held up your biology homework in response and his face broke out into a satisfied smile. he pushed his glasses back up his nose and stood to make his way over to you. you couldn't help but notice how tight his shirt was around his torso.

• "how are you finding it, y/n? the details of respiration can be quite difficult to grasp."

• "it's going pretty well, i think." you mumbled, staring at empty lines beneath question three. you had been struggling with it for at least fifteen minutes. "could you perhaps run over oxidative phosphorylation again? and the electron transport chain?"

• with a firm nod, he bent down to get a closer look at the exact question you were trying to answer. "this diagram right here sums up the whole process pretty well." he mumbled, his finger circling one of the diagrams on your sheet. "everything you need to know is in there."

• you leaned forward to take a closer look and when he turned his head to speak again, he found his face inches away from yours. his mouth parted in surprise and your gaze dropped to his lips before your brain could even process how stupid it was to stare at your professor's mouth like that. he stayed frozen for a moment, his gaze betraying his conscience and dropping down to your own lips. your face flamed as the sound of his heavy breathing filled your ears. professor lee nearly stumbled over himself when he finally stood up straight and took a step backwards.

• "i should really be getting on with my work, y/n." he managed to get out after a few seconds, struggling to meet your eyes. your cheeks were still glowing. he cleared his throat and finally lifted his gaze to look at you. "but i can help you with your homework later on if you are still here working. is that alright?"

• "yes, of course, sir" you whispered with a shaky breath. at that moment in time, you thought you would never get over what had happened- your trembling lips so close to your professor's. the tense atmosphere felt suffocating.

• by the time professor lee had finished his work, you had completed most of your homework save for question three. you glanced up to the clock to see that it was 6pm before sliding your gaze over towards professor lee. to your surprise, he was already looking in your direction. the incident from earlier flashed in your mind and your head dropped in embarrassment. 

• "y/n," he said softly, adjusting the glasses perched on face. "feel free to bring your work over here, i can help you with your question now." 

• by the time he had helped you with the question, it was past 6:30 pm, meaning the school would start closing up soon. the two of you migrated back to your sides of the room and silently began to pack up your things. as you made your way towards the car park, professor lee cleared his throat and turned to you. "do you have any fun plans for the weekend?" 

• you were thankful that he was trying to converse normally with you opposed to staying silent. you didn't want any awkwardness over the incident in his office to diminish whatever bond you had made with professor lee. "well, my friends want to go to the park tomorrow. apparently, it's going to be hot. you have to make the most out of those days, as you know." he nodded in understanding, a polite smile gracing his lips. "of course, enjoy the sun while it's out."

• "i was also invited to a party tonight," you found yourself mumbling, diverting your gaze to the empty road a few metres ahead of you. "finn asked me. he's in our biology class, you teach him."

• "ah, finn adley." he said, his voice suddenly taking on a more professional tone. "will you be attending this party?" he then asked, slowing down his pace as you reached the staff car park. 

• "i don't know, sir" you uttered honestly, letting your gaze swing back to him. "i don't really want to, i kind of wanted to stay at home and watch a movie tonight."

• just as your professor opened his mouth to reply, you felt drops of rain begin to hit your bare arms. it didn't take long for it to start pouring down, which was ironic considering the weather was supposed to be good during this time of year. typical england.

• it took seconds for the two of you to get soaked from head to toe. you glanced around to seek out the nearest dry spot but the idea of finding shelter when you were already so wet felt silly. you grudgingly accepted the fact you probably looked like a wet dog. 

• "this is very unfortunate." professor lee muttered, an amused smile tugging at his lips. a quick look across the road to the bus stop nearby reminded you that you needed to check when your bus was due to arrive.

• "very unfortunate, just my luck." you found yourself sighing, and yet the small smile playing at his lips was somehow contagious. you probably looked a little mad, scrambling through your bag to find your phone, dripping wet, with a silly smile plastered on your face. you briefly wondered why professor lee was still planted next to you when his car was so close by.

• "40 minutes until my next bus" you muttered aloud in disbelief when the page finally loaded, your smile dropping instantly. you groaned as you wiped away the drops of rain that had gathered on your phone screen. "i think i am just going to wait back in the school, sir"

• professor lee frowned at this. his hair was now matted to his forehead and his blazer dripped with water. "no, they'll be starting to shut the place down now." he lifted a hand to comb his fingers through his hair, pushing the wet strands away from his face before taking off his glasses to dry the lenses with his shirt. you couldn't help but stare at him in awe. you felt dizzy with the want to run your own hungry hands through his hair, to grab fistfuls of his wet shirt and slam your lips to his. 

• "you're going to get a cold waiting around in this weather. i think i should just give you a lift home." he said as he met your eyes, his voice curling around you like warm honey. "does that sound okay?"

• you found yourself replying with a quiet 'yes' a beat too soon. you cleared your throat to compose yourself and tried again. "yes, that would be very nice of you. thank you for offering, professor."

• his mouth broke into a seraphic smile and when he turned to walk towards his car, you were hot on his heels- desperate to escape the rain. after you had climbed into the passenger seat, he ramped up the heating and started the car. "hopefully, you'll dry up in here."

• "i hope so. thank you for offering to drop me home, i really do appreciate it." you mumbled, watching him as he checked his rear view mirrors. after telling him your address, and laughing over the fact his gps system didn't even work, you both agreed that you would just give him directions. 

• "so, professor, are you married? dating anyone?" you found yourself asking him after fifteen minutes of casual conversation. he was just coming off the roundabout near your road. his eyes flickered over to you and the sudden silence that enveloped the car made you regret asking such a personal question. 

• "no." he answered eventually, something of an airy chuckle leaving his lips. "i am not married. or dating anyone." 

• you swallowed thickly and tried to shove away the hopefulness bubbling up inside of you. "i'm sorry if that question came across as invasive-"

• professor lee shook his head, his lips curling in amusement. "no, it's fine. most of my friends are married though, a lot of them have kids too." 

• "that's nice," you started, biting down on your lip. "i mean- for them." you added quickly, your face growing warm. "not for you, well, maybe it is. i don't know what i'm saying."

• professor lee chuckled again. "yes, it must be nice to have a family to come home to. i'm not complaining about being single though, being a lone wolf has its perks."

• you tried to stop yourself from saying something inappropriate but for some reason your brain had lost its filter. "i'm surprised you're not married, professor" you found yourself mumbling. 

• professor lee cleared his throat and asked if he should take a left or a right. the embarrassment of your statement being ignored seemed to swallow you up. "left."

• after he had turned onto the long road that would eventually lead to your own street, he began to speak again. "why are you surprised?" he asked tentatively, surprising you by bringing up the subject again. 

• you swallowed hard before replying. "well, you're extremely good looking for a start," you began, and even with his eyes trained on the road ahead, you could see the surprise in his features, the way his knuckles were turning white from gripping the steering wheel a little too hard. you didn't know where the sudden confidence had come from but at that point you no longer cared about the consequences of what you were saying. "you're kind, funny, and not to mention charming. i think anyone would find it surprising that no woman has snatched you up yet."

• before he had the chance to reply, you quickly informed him that you had reached your street, the regret from what you just admitted finally sinking in. "you can drop me off here, sir, i can walk the rest of the way."

• he pulled up in an empty space and just as you were about to escape out of the door, you felt professor lee's hand curl around your wrist. you sat back down slowly and turned to face him, your brows knitted together in confusion. "yes, professor?" he stared at you silently for a moment, his confliction transparent in his features. he looked torn and frustrated. for a while he was unable to form any words. 

• with a deep breath he pulled his hand away from yours and began to speak. "y/n" he said softly before pausing. he sighed quietly and rubbed at his beard. "i'm 35 years old. i'm your biology professor. i'm very flattered by what you just said but this, you and i, just can't happen." his tone softened even more. "you know it can't."

• you averted your gaze and tried to will yourself to respond casually, to brush off this rejection as if you didn't care. "right." you found yourself whispering, your voice coming off as detached. "i understand, professor." you heard him sigh again and the pang of sadness you felt was overwhelming. you opened the door again and stepped out before he could say anything else. "if that is all... i should be getting home now-"

• "y/n." he called, his voice tight and urgent. he quickly climbed out of the car and rushed around it to stop you from walking off. he hesitated for a moment, his breath leaving him in harsh bursts. "i said this can't happen but i didn't say-" he stopped and stared at you for a moment, an intense gaze that made your body temperature skyrocket. "i didn't… i didn't say that I don't want it happen."

• "professor-" you started meekly, feeling completely and utterly tongue tied. a myriad of emotions began to settle within you- confusement, excitement, skepticism. you were suddenly aware of the aching in your core, your desire to drag his body closer and take and take and take. 

• "god, what am i doing." he muttered, more to himself, as he turned away from you. his voice was thick with feelings you couldn't quite put your finger on. "it would be much appreciated if you forgot about this conversation for now, y/n- i'll see you in class on monday." 

• this time it was you who reached out for him. without thinking, you extended your hand and grabbed onto his shoulder to whirl him around. he was stunned for a second but when you planted your hands on his face to tug his lips down to meet yours, he was quick to settle his hands on your hips to pull your body close. you couldn't help but moan quietly as your lips found his. his touch seemed to burn through the damp fabric of your clothes and ignite deep something within you.

• he kissed you harder and lifted a hand to cup your face, barely able to keep himself from slamming you against the car and letting his hands roam freely over your body. you pressed closer to him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. you swallowed his low moan greedily and gasped when he pulled you even closer, to the point where your body was flush against his. you were hyper aware of all the sensations you were experiencing - the feeling of his stubble brushing against your skin as he kissed you, the feeling of his warm body moulding against yours, his tongue eager to part your lips and explore your mouth.

• "we should stop before i get carried away." professor lee rasped when he eventually pulled away from you, saliva glistening against his lips. the sight had you clenching your thighs together, itching to kiss him again. you let your hands fall from his hair and watched him as his licked his lips and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. he found himself distracted by how red your lips were, swollen from how intensely he had kissed you. he swallowed.

• "good idea." you whispered softly. the sky was an expanse of black ink and the trees around you rustled as a gentle breeze danced through the air. you flashed him a smile and settled your hand against his cheek, your thumb beginning to caress the stubble on his face. 

• "i would like it if you called me gwilym outside of class." he declared as your thumb brushed against his lips.

• "gwilym?" you found yourself asking incredulously, your lips jerking up in amusement. "i didn't expect that..."

• "it's the welsh variation of william." he informed you, his lips stretched into a bemused smile. he pressed a gentle kiss to your pad of your thumb, his eyes glued to yours.

• " a name i won't forget," you pulled your hand away from his face and suddenly felt sheepish despite everything. "i should get going, professor--" you paused, your skin tingling as your lips formed the foreign name. "gwilym." 

• professor lee's smile widened and he remained silent as he watched you, savouring the moment between the two of you. "goodnight y/n. enjoy your weekend and i'll see you next week." and with one last beguiling smile, he returned back to his car and sped off down the road.

~ ~ ~ ~

• "what is the meaning of this?" professor lee asked the two of you, his jaw tight. he strode forward and you found yourself sinking down into your seat. you had never felt more guilty in your life.

• "sorry sir." finn mumbled, crossing his arms over his cheat. "y/n was tutoring me-"

• "that didn't look like tutoring to me." professor lee was careful not to raise his voice but his anger was still very much apparent. "please save such activities for outside of school, finn." he turned to you and your breath got stuck in your throat when his fiery eyes met yours. his eyes dropped to your neck and a flash of emotions quickly passed over his face- disbelief disgust, frustration. "i'd suggest you button up your shirt, y/n."

• you glanced down to see a freshly made hickey, purple and prominent against your skin. with a grimace, you quickly buttoned up your shirt. you made sure to keep your eyes on the table in front of you. 

• professor gwil made his way over to the door again and opened it forcefully, a scowl on his face. "both of you get out. i better not see anything like this in the future, from either of you."

• "yes, sir." the two of you uttered quietly before quickly packing away your things and trudging over to professor lee. finn was all too keen to be out of there and was gone before you even had a chance to reach the door. 

• "you," gwilym uttered lowly as he took a step closer to you. "my office, immediately."

• you nodded, unable to speak and left to make your way towards his office on the second floor. you took a seat at your table in the corner and put your hands in your lap, unsure of what to do with yourself. you began to fiddle with them nervously as the seconds ticked by. you were practically trembling in anticipation. 

• when gwilym finally entered the room, he locked the door behind him and tossed his blazer onto his chair. "come here, y/n." he commanded firmly and you were quick to make your way over to him, suddenly feeling like a child about to get scolded by their parent.

• "so what, are the two of you dating? is it a casual thing?" is the first thing he asked you, his face stern.

• "no, we're not dating. we had a casual thing in the past but there's nothing going on anymore. it was just a spur of the moment kiss-"

• gwilym closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples, unsure of how to proceed with the situation. whilst he didn't exactly want to come across as jealous, there was no hiding the fact he was seething with anger. "and the hickey?"

• "he just got carried away." you muttered out quietly and his eyes flashed.

• he moved closer to grab onto the hem of your shirt and dragged it over your head, his hungry eyes drinking in your exposed skin. "no one's allowed to touch you but me." 

• gwilym wrapped his arms around you, hiking you up against the nearest wall with a low growl. he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck, gently at first. "especially not finn." his gentleness vanished as he bit down on the skin where your hickey was, spurred on by the shaky moan that slipped out of your lips.

• he sucked hard on the skin and trailed his lips lower to lick teasingly at your cleavage, letting his teeth scrape lightly against your skin. "gwilym." you choked out, your voice tight. 

• "who do you belong to?" he asked before biting down hard on one of your breasts. you cried out and curled your hands into his hair. "you." 

• gwilym yanked your bra down and took one of your breasts in his hand, kneading the skin roughly as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. "say it again."

• "you. i belong to you." you rasped, tightening your hold on his hair when he pinched your nipple between his thumb and finger. he let out a noise of satisfaction and willed himself to pull away from you, barely being able to tear his eyes away from your exposed breasts. 

• "onto my desk, now." he said thickly and with weak legs you made your way over to his desk, carefully seating yourself on the edge of it.

• gwilym approached you slowly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. "take that bra off, and your skirt."

• you complied, your hands beginning to tremble as you unzipped your skirt. you were dizzy with how turned on you were. once you had managed to pull your skirt down over your hips, you pressed your legs together as heat flooded your cheeks. you didn't want him seeing how wet your panties were.

• "why so shy, pet?" gwilym's deep voice stirred something within you and had you gripping onto the edge of his desk. he sat down on his leather chair and leaned back, crossing his legs as he examined you. a hint of a smile crossed his lips and you swallowed thickly.

• "let me see you, open those pretty legs for me." he drawled, his eyes dancing lower. you let your legs fall open and the hitch in his breath didn't go unnoticed. he cursed beneath his breath and stood to get a closer look.

• "you don't know how good you look right now, sitting on my desk with your legs spread for me." he said, his gaze fixated on your underwear. "and you're so wet for me-"

• you were so close to whining out his name, to beg him to touch you, to do anything. his hand settled on your knee, a gentle touch just to drive you closer to the edge. "i bet finn would love to see you like this. don't you think?"

• you bit down on your lip. "i-i don't know-"

• "we both know he would. he won't get the chance though, will he?" his hand drifted along your thigh and you fought the urge to cry out with how badly you needed him to touch you. "you know how this works, love, say it."

• he ran a finger along your slit through your panties and even with the fabric barrier, his touch had you arching your back and whimpering. "well?"

• "no, h-he won't get get to see me like this. never." you gasped out when his hand slipped into your underwear to rub you slowly and bucked your hips forward to grind yourself against his hand. his other hand was quick to slap your thigh, a grunt leaving his lips. "no moving."

• he pulled his hand out of your underwear and tugged the panties down over your legs to toss them aside. you couldn't help but stare at the erection straining against his black slacks.

• "i'm not happy with you, and because of that i'm not going to give you what you want just yet." he cupped your face roughly and lowered his face to yours, his hot breath fanning against your lips as he spoke. "you're going to have to be a good girl and make it up to me."

• you nodded eagerly and he moved away from you again to stand up straight. "get on your knees." 

• you followed his request with no objection and the hard floor was cold against your knees. just seeing you naked on the floor, staring up at him through your lashes had him groaning out and unbuckling his belt. he pulled his trousers down hastily, unable to wait any longer.

• you palmed his cock through his breifs and kept your eyes on him, hungry to see his face contort in pleasure. you dragged his underwear down to let his cock spring free and wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his head, your hands flying to his thighs to steady yourself.

• "fuck, that feels so good." he grabbed a fistful of your hair and willed himself not to thrust forward as you took more of him inside your mouth. "you're doing so well."

• you focused on breathing through your nose as you hollowed your cheeks and pushed forward to the point where his cock was brushing against the back of your throat.

• gwilym's stuttered moan had you forcing yourself to stay there for a few seconds more before you eventually tore your face away from him, spluttering and gasping for breath.

• he stroked your hair soothingly and found your eyes, his chest and neck now flushed with heat. "what a good girl. will you let me fuck your mouth?" he asked lowly, his hand moving to swipe away the spit covering your lips and chin.

• you didn't answer him and instead wrapped your lips around as much of his cock as you could, gripping at his thighs again. he groaned and let his head fall back as he gripped onto your hair with hands, his hips slowly beginning to thrust forward. 

• your jaw ached and your eyes watered as his cock filled your mouth, sliding against the walls of your throat. you clawed at his legs and moaned around him, the throbbing in between your legs becoming harder to ignore. 

• you knew he was close when his hips began to stutter and his movements became sloppier, his sharp intakes of air punctuating every thrust. you let your jaw go slack and stared up at him with glossy eyes, challenging him to fuck your face until came.

• instead of continuing to thrust forward, he pulled away and grabbed onto your arm to yank you up onto your feet. he curled an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him as his lips found yours. he kissed you fiercly as he backed you up against his desk. "since you've been so good," he panted against your lips, his cock brushing against your wet folds. "i'll give you something in return." 

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Villainous Heroics - Chapter 13

Woo, sorry for the long pause between updates, guys! School's really been kicking it to me this semester, but you can't keep a good writer down!

A few quick notes to go over:

Just a quick update dealing with the timeline, but I won't be dealing with the Overhaul and Eri arc. Please assume that these events happen in Class 1-A's second year - as well as any further manga/anime plot elements. The rest of this story takes place throughout the rest of first year and possibly crossing over into the summer break. I don't want this story to grow too expansive where it was just meant to be a short thing, but corndog-patrol on tumblr has art of their original version of this AU that has Mic meeting Eri and it is absolutely adorable! As for me, well, I'm going to give our boys and 1-A a bit of a break. We'll see about Eri popping up in future drabbles, though!

Another note, I've changed the spelling of Shota to Shouta where I learned that Wikipedia is a fool that should never be trusted. I'll be using the spelling of Shouta from here on out, but there will be a final edit to the story once completed so that the earlier chapters are updated to reflect this - any other names I messed up will also be fixed.

Enjoy!

            Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

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Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

          <<First/Chapter>> <<Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

                                             Chapter Thirteen

“Your body moved before you could think, huh…” Shouta stared at the streets below him, the image of cracked roads and dim street lights blurring into a single color as he let his thoughts drift back to the other night with Mic. “What am I going to do with you, Mic?”

Shouta had responded to the alert of a bank robbery and had been the closest hero on patrol at the time. He had gone in expecting hostages and thugs or villains who had been twisted by the cruelty of the world - or had given in to their own cruelty. Instead he had slipped in and saw Present Mic bleeding with a gun trained on him.

The blood hadn’t been a priority. Mic, whether villain or vigilante, had grown used to the pain of a difficult fight. The sight of a gun being pointed at him with a finger on the trigger had been anxiety inducing, but the expression on Mic’s face - the expression of acceptance as if he knew he was going to die and had already accepted it as fact… That had been heartbreaking.

There was a second where Shouta had seen his student and a hand reaching out to crumble her down to dust. It hadn’t been a reminder he needed, and it was only years of fighting and doing hero work that had him reacting on instinct, changing the path of the bullet and sparring Present Mic of death. Shouta hadn’t spared him from a lecture, though, but then the man had gone and said that.

“My body moved on its own before I could think.”

It was a joke among pro heroes. It wasn’t a well-known joke, but it wasn’t a secret, either. Every good pro hero, whether aware or not, they always managed to say the same thing. Their debut, the first time they helped someone, the moment they realized they knew what they wanted to do, it was the same phrase said again and again no matter the circumstances.

Their bodies moved before they could think. It was the mark of a good hero. It was the mark of a good hero - one who cared more about the safety of people than the rankings or media attention. These days being a pro hero was akin to being a celebrity, but even then the feelings were often the same.

Shouta groaned and shoved his goggles down to rub at his eyes, fingers pausing and twitching as they touched the familiar piece of gear, thoughts of Mic drifting up even more than before. The overwhelming abundance of memories and thoughts were drowned out by one single conclusion, though.

Present Mic was not, and never had been, a villain. There was no way for him to be a villain when he was too afraid of his own quirk and only used it when he was helping people. He protected children and saved teenagers he didn’t even know, he broke up fights if they got too rough, and he was willing to let himself get shot to help those who he had never met before. Present Mic may have called himself the ‘Voice Villain,’ but it was clear that he was anything but.

Even half the police in his area thought Mic was a vigilante! After the report he had filled for the bank robbery, half the force had asked him who the vigilante was that had been at the scene. Shouta hadn’t had the heart to correct their assumptions. Plus, it was going to be that much funnier when they were told the hostages were saved by another villain.

The sound of tired footsteps had Shouta coming out of his thoughts and tugging his goggles back up, reminding himself that he was on patrol. A glance down showed a man with long blonde hair that was pulled back in a bun, grumpy expression on his face.

The grumpy expression on his face was why it took so long for Shouta to realize that the man was familiar due to the fact this was the barista he saw at his regular coffee place. He didn’t even know that the shop closed this late.

“-stupid fucking douchebag. I could kill him and people would thank me. Oh, Yamada, you murdered your boss? Well, yes, because he made me stay four hours past closing and clean and-” The words drifted up through the air towards him before dropping back into bitter grumbling and mumbling, Shouta feeling his lips twitch into a smile.

He would have to remember to try and be a touch nicer towards him in the morning if he was there. Back to back closing and morning shifts weren’t exactly fun, especially when he already looked exhausted and overworked. Seeing people like this made Shouta wonder what Mic’s day job was. The man had to be doing something. Hm. He probably DJ’d at a local club.

Looking back down, Shouta now saw two figures in the shadows where the street lights didn’t reach instead of just the one. Readying his binding cloth, Shouta took a moment to assess the situation before he saw the flash of a gun.

Jumping down, Shouta barely landed before he was shouting loud enough to get their attention, “Hey!” The gun was now trained on Shouta, which, good. The civilian, the same barista, was tense and had a pale face and shocked expression, entire body drawn in tight. He seemed to be favoring his right shoulder, so it was possible he was hurt, but Shouta hadn’t heard a gunshot, at least.

“Who are you supposed to be?” The man who held the gun sounded panicked and ready to pull the trigger. Shouta would’ve been amused if there wasn’t a hostage or a gun involved.

“I’m the guy that’s going to kick your ass.” It was possible Shouta took some aggression out when it came to the fight that followed, but Shouta didn’t have much sympathy for those who contemplated murder as being an acceptable risk. 

Making sure the knots were tight and the police were on their way, Shouta finally looked to the civilian, gaze flicking him over quickly to assess for damage. The man was rambling about how he was okay, full of nervous energy. He looked ready to vibrate out of his skin and there seemed to be some sort of damage to his shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?” Shouta asked, pushing his goggles up and finally cutting into the rambling. He a had a lot of practice with Mic, after all.

“Of course! He didn’t get a scratch on me!” Something was… not wrong, but not quite right, either. Shouta felt like he was a few steps off from where he should be, and it wasn’t a feeling he particularly liked. Usually he was still half-asleep when talking to this man, so maybe that was it.

“Well,” Shouta sighed, turning back to keep an eye on the defeated villain. He wasn’t much moving. “You should at least come with me to make a report.”

“No!” That was a very strong reaction to the idea of going to the police. Maybe the other just hated paperwork. Shouta could relate to that. “I mean… I’ll just head home - thanks for the help, Eraserhead.”

“Mm.” Jumpy, but he wasn’t bleeding and didn’t seem in any extreme pain, and if he didn’t want to make a report or press charges, then Shouta could let him off easily enough. Strange, though. It was very rare that a civilian knew his name considering his status of being underground.

The feeling of the wrong steps turned into that of a missed step. It was odd, but maybe Shouta was just putting too much thought into it. If Mic were there, he would probably…

Shouta’s thoughts trailed off into silence as he felt a million little clues come into complete focus in a way that had him torn between incomprehensible anger and utter despair.

There wasn’t any other way to react when he realized his barista of the past few months was Present Mic.

                                                               ::

Shouta really should have seen this sooner. He was groggy with the hour or two of sleep he had managed, but he pushed himself to focus as he stared at the barista who had a nametag he had never bothered to read before. Present Mic’s family name was Yamada and Shouta was feeling more and more like an idiot by the second.

Not only had Present Mic been in front of him since the very beginning of this whole mess, but he couldn’t even complain about it to anyone. He could never let this realization be known – to Nemuri, especially.

“Hey, there! You’re actually pretty early, this morning!” Yamada greeted, his tone an exact match for Mic’s in every way possible

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to start the day early.” Shouta was only half aware of the words coming out of his mouth as he did his best not to be obvious about his staring. The more he looked, the more stupid he felt.

Yamada was wearing the same bulky glasses that Mic had worn all those months ago when his own sunglasses had still been broken. There were the hearing aids that Shouta caught glimpses of when Mic’s headphones weren’t on. There was that stupid mustache that should have been a dead giveaway and all of it was tied together with bright green eyes that were shining as if they knew him and fuck. Present Mic had been serving him coffee the whole damn time. This was Mic and he knew exactly who Shouta was.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking coffee, then,” Yamada - Mic - teased, smile fond and warm in a way that Mic never let himself really show. “I wanted to say thank you, by the way, for last night. It’s good to have a hero around these parts.”

“It’s my job,” Shouta shrugged off, trying to get over his panic and calm himself down. It wasn’t working as much as he wanted it to.

“Well, thank you anyways, Eraserhead,” Yamada laughed, everything about him soft and quiet in a way that Present Mic never let himself be. Shouta had thought his feelings had been bad before, but this… Jeez.

“Aizawa,” Shouta said quietly, pleased when Yamada blinked at him in confusion. “I’m off duty in the mornings, so it’s Aizawa Shouta.”

“Oh.” The word was a soft exhale, Yamada’s eyes wide and bright and a smile on his face that looked fragile. If Shouta hadn’t known who this was before, then this moment would have given it away. “Well, then, it’s only right if you call me Yamada. Yamada Hizashi. Um, nice to meet you?”

“Right. Nice to meet you.” Shouta was fucked. His name was Yamada Hizashi. Present Mic’s name was Hizashi which literally meant the perception of sunshine. Shouta was filled with a dawning horror as he silently realized how many times he had compared the man’s smile to sunshine.

“Right, your order!” Yamada quickly moved to get the items, passing by a teenager coworker who was hissing something at him as he scribbled on an empty coffee cup before filling it. Shouta couldn’t even be upset he only counted two espresso shots instead of his usual six.

Yamada bustled around the small area and looked to hiss something back to his now glaring coworker before setting Shouta’s coffee and a bag of cute cat muffins on the counter. “Here you go, Aizawa-san! Consider this one on the house as thanks for last night.”

“Oh, uh…” This man was too sweet. This man was literally sunshine and Shouta had no idea how to deal with it. It was one thing dealing with Mic’s cockiness and rapid wit, but it was another dealing with this soft and quiet barista who gave the warmest smiles. “That’s really-”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Yamada insisted, pushing the items closer and then crossing his arms. “And I can be a lot more stubborn than you can!”

“That part I didn’t doubt,” Shouta muttered, taking the items and half hiding behind his binding cloth as he eyed Yamada. “Thank you.”

“Of course! Just don’t make me say that stupid ‘have a lovely day’ phrase,” Yamada mock frowned, sticking his tongue out. “It’s so lame!” The frown disappeared in favor of one of those bright smiles. “Have a nice day, Aizawa-san!”

Shouta managed to keep himself together, as well as mumble back a response, and make it all the way to the U. A. staff room. He was in complete control of himself for the entire time. The moment he sat down, though, he let his head hit the desk, cheek squished against the desk as he felt his cheeks redden.

“My, my, what’s this, Shou-chan? Are you feeling embarrassed over something?” Nemuri, the utter vulture, was leaning off his chair in a second. Shouta did his best to ignore her and instead looked at his coffee cup which… didn’t have his name written on it. Instead, scrawled across his cup in looping lines:

Sound does not travel when no one hears Yet you have always listened for me From my loudest shouts To my quietest whispers

My voice has never fallen on deaf ears since you   Is it any wonder I fell for you Like the last sharp note of a song Trailing off before dropping into unknown

“Holy shit, are you dying? Your face just got so red?” Nemuri’s shocked voice barely even registered, Shouta only staring at where Present Mic had written a love poem on his coffee cup. Oh, god, how often had he done this? Had Shouta been throwing away cups with love notes on them this whole time?

Shouta turned his head to rest his forehead against his desk, his co-workers chatting above him in a way to where it was nothing except for white noise.

Jeez… Shouta had never felt so blind as he did now.

[nascent-chaos]

Okay so like... How would everyone have reacted if Dust ended up killing Y/N the first time they met? I’ve been wondering :o

Papyrus :: Poor Papyrus would be deeply affected by her death as he would blame himself for having failed to protect her. She had quickly grown to be one of his best friends, after all, and having witnessed her death first-hand would leave him broken for some time. Of course, he’d do his best to try to stay positive - he knows she wouldn’t ever want to see him sad, after all - but… it would still hurt a lot… He’s never lost someone like that before. To him, her death would be a large, dark stain on his otherwise bright world, one that would never fully go away. He learns that day just how unfair the world can really be…

Sans :: When he finds out he thinks it’s just some sort of sick joke at first. A variant appeared and killed her? Just like that, without any provocation whatsoever? When the truth comes to light Sans will be outright distraught, his emotions frequently flitting between grief and the utter rage he feels toward Dust. Y/N deserved better than to die like that! After listening to Papyrus recount what had happened he’d be haunted by countless questions, to which he’d never know the answers. Had she thought Dust was him in her final moments? Had she thought he was betraying her? She must have been so scared, so terrified, and he… he should have been there. He knew he had no way of ever knowing something like this could happen, but it wouldn’t stop him from beating himself up over it.Seeing how badly it’s affecting his brother wouldn’t help matters, as Sans would feel the need to mask his grief in order to support Paps. It would eventually eat away at him and he would even go as far as to contemplate on visiting Frisk, to see if they really, honestly couldn’t Load or Reset anymore. But… no, he couldn’t do that… she’d never want to sacrifice the others for a second chance…Stretch :: Stretch would be traumatized by the news and will have a difficult time coming to terms with her death. In the days following the attack, he would throw himself into his work in an attempt to distract himself, his attention focused solely on the machine when he wasn’t supporting Blue in his times of grief. This Y/N was gone, but… maybe she was still alive in his own Universe? They wouldn’t be the same, he knows that… they could never be the same. But with his grief clouding his judgment he’d still do anything to get her back, regardless.Blue :: Like Papyrus, Blue is deeply shaken and disturbed by her death. He’s never experienced a loss like this and, between the waves of profound grief and bitter resentment he feels toward Dust for having taken away someone so precious to him, Blue honestly doesn’t know which way to turn. Add to that the fear he feels as he watches his brother slowly falling apart before him and the once-bubbly Blueberry finds himself struggling to keep his once cheery and innocent outlook on life.Black & Edge :: Black and Edge would have similar reactions, both appearing shocked by the news. Each would demand Dust’s head as retribution for having had something that belonged to them taken away, but… after that? Well, they’re terribly familiar with having death around them, but… her death seems to affect them differently, regardless. Edge grows to be a good deal more stoic than he was previously and tends to be outwardly hostile toward those around him now, with Red often being the one he lashes out to. Black’s already-short fuse grows to become even shorter, and although he’s not as inclined to assault his brother during his bouts of anger as Edge is, Black is no less prone to violence. Red :: Red takes the news the hardest out of everyone, and it shows. He constantly finds himself torn between laughing over how completely fucked up the world is to take someone like her away and spending days at a time locked away in his room mourning. Sleep and booze can only numb the pain so much, and between his grief and the fact that Edge has turned to him to let loose his own anger and frustrations in life now, Red quickly finds himself reaching his limits. This universe or his own… he doesn’t care which one he’s in anymore. Neither one matters to him anymore.Hickory :: The news of Y/N’s death numbs Hickory, leaving him feeling hollow and empty. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised - it was bound to happen eventually because let’s face it; nothing that shines as brightly as she did could ever hope to last long in such a world. Hell, had it been his own Universe she’d have likely died a lot sooner. But… those thoughts don’t comfort him as much as he’d like and, like Sans, he finds himself plagued by what-ifs. What if he’d managed to stabilize the machine before all of that, and Dust had never appeared? What if it had been anyone other than Dust - surely she would still be alive, right?He does his best to stomp out his emotions, numbing them with drugs and alcohol for a time and attempting to move on. He attempts to convince himself that there’s no point in mourning for a human like her, that she was just another face that comes and goes in his life just like any other. The end result isn’t as clean-cut as he’d like, and he’s never able to truly forget her, but eventually, the memory of her doesn’t sting as badly as it used to…

✿ —— B O N U S —— ✿

Dust’s Fate :: In regards to Dust, it may very well be possible that he’d be judged and executed by the residents of the lodge. While there are a few less than savory individuals that had been dragged into this Universe, Dust will have been the first variant to have openly attacked and killed a person without any provocation (the fact that it was their human only makes it that much worse). Although Dust does have a slightly higher LV than Classic who, prior to Dust’s arrival was the highest, he also has a great deal of negative Karma, which would prove to be his downfall in any fight against the four Judges of the lodge.Y/N’s Fate :: Following her death, Y/N’s body would be turned over to the care of Mark, who would oversee her cremation and funeral. The boys would be present as her ashes are scattered from a ridge overlooking the valley - the same location the ashes of her sister and parents had been scattered two years prior. The boys would leave the loft as it was, as something of a memorial to her. Sans, Stretch, and Red would visit it on occasion and speak to the silence as if she was still there with them…

[taesbetch]

To Own A Hybrid P.4

Pairing: Jungkoook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff (eventual smut) Hybrid!AU

Summary: The hybrid world was one y/n never really involved herself in; however, after certain events, she is tossed into a world of uncertainty in the company of a particularly rude hybrid. 

Word count: 3.5K + 

WARNING: Mentions of abuse, emotional torment, and prostitution 

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5

The warmth surrounding your body was a mixture of suffocating and relaxing.

The room was still dark but you could tell by the chirping of birds and the slight blue glow entering through your curtains that the sun was coming up.

A groan of morning blues made its way through your body before you tried to remove yourself from Jungkook’s death grip.

“Jungkook” you whined as you shoved him lightly stirring him awake.

As Jungkook adjusted to his sudden surroundings he matched your whine before rolling over to the other side of the bed.

thankful for your sudden ability to move you quickly jumped out of bed and stretched your limbs getting ready to start the day.

“wait!” Jungkook yelled as you started to move away from the bed. You turned to him shocked at his sudden outburst. He had sat up to face you, his hand reaching out in a stop motion as his eyes were trained to your figure as if you would disappear if he looked away.

“where are you going? Are you leaving?” he asked calmly but you could see the slight panic in his eyes.

“to the toilet… you can stand at the door if that makes you feel more comfortable” you joked as you sat back on the bed scooting closer to a previously shaken Jungkook.

He rolled his eyes before staring down at his hands.

“Jungkook what happened last night? Who are you afraid of?” you asked softly as he bit his lip nervously.

“its fine, I’m just not used to not having to worry or be on guard” he argued as his eyes travelled back up to yours.

“well…if you need any help getting used to it, I’m here! I can’t do much but…if there’s anything you want or want me to do, just ask, okay?” you stated shooting him a wide smile.

Jungkook was speechless as he stared at you with emotionless eyes.

“don’t you have to pee”

“oh, right!”

—-

While you waited for Jungkook at the table your stomach decided it couldn’t hold back its lust for the waffles that sat in front of you.

“you really couldn’t wait?” Jungkook asked as he walked towards, disappoint painted over his features.

You merely shrugged as your attention couldn’t be torn from your one and only.

“what are we doing today?” he asked as your phone repeatedly lit up.

Both of you stared at your phone in annoyance as the light bleeped up and down. You groaned before replacing the fork in your hand with the hard piece of metal.

“who is it?” Jungkook asked before downing his glass of cold water to wash down his waffles.

You furrowed your brows at the frantic texts you had just received from Namjoon.

‘y/n can you please call me when you get this’

‘it’s urgent’

‘it’s about the route you created for Mr. So please call me’

You quickly fumbled with your phone trying call Namjoon in a hurry. As your phone began ringing you pressed it to your ear, balancing it between your shoulder as you continued eating.

“Y/n! thank god you answered!” Namjoon rushed as you heard him try to compose his breathing.

“are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked quickly, confused as to why he was so panicked so early in the morning “you said something was wrong with my route?”.

“can you come over? Feel free to bring Jungkook! You. You just need to see this for yourself to believe me” he said in a low voice. You could literally hear the sweat dripping from his forehead as you left the phone silent.

“okay sure…just send me your address” you confirmed before hanging up. After a moment of staring at your phone in confusion your eyes slowly connected with Jungkook’s’.

“all you had to do was create a route, right? What could go wrong with that?” Jungkook asked before grabbing your plate and his and taking them to the dishwasher.

You furrowed your brow before your phone lit up indicating that Namjoon had sent you his address.

—

As you pulled up to Namjoons driveway you almost gasped at how beautiful his house was.

From looking at Namjoon you would guess that he was a wealthy man, but not this fucking wealthy.

“don’t you work the same job?” Jungkook asked in almost a whisper as he admired the three-story house.

“kinda, Namjoon is basically my superior. I never knew how superior though” you replied as the two of you walked towards his front door.

The wooden block in front of you didn’t hold a doorknob, nor a door bell. It was just a large plank of wood.

“what the fuck” you stated as you looked around it to see if there was a hidden button or something.

‘are your y/n y/l/n’

You let out a shriek of surprise before staring at the door in complete shock. His door fucking talks?!

“did it just talk?” Jungkook asked in disbelief as he got himself ready to bolt back to the car. You looked at Jungkook before clearing your throat and turning back to the door.

“er, yes?” you spoke uncertain.

The door didn’t reply instead it opened widely, letting you and Jungkook marvel at the all-white decorated inside, a complete contrast to the dark brown outside.

All you could do was walk with your mouth hung open as the two of you entered the gates of heaven.

“you’re here! Great! Jungkook please make yourself feel comfortable, Taehyung and Yoongi will show you around! y/n, just this way” he stumbled as he grasped your arm in his hand and pulled you in the direction he had just come from.

Even though Jungkook had been instructed to a certain direction you could hear the hesitation and anger the further you were pulled away from him.

“Namjoon, what’s all this about? What’s wrong with my route?” you asked as he shut his computer room. As he fumbled with a small panel near the door, you took the time to look around the darkened room.

This is probably his porn room…

The multiple desktops staring at you was kind of overwhelming, but not as overwhelming at the live streaming anti- hybrid protest playing on the main monitor.

Your eyes narrowed as you stalked closer to it, trying to pay attention to what they were saying.

“Groups of Hybrid haters from all around the nation gather here today as various hybrids are being shipped for the pristine hybrid contest. The angered locals are all fighting for one thing. The decrease of hybrids” the news lady reported as numerous citizens thrust their signs in the air and strained their throats as they shot rude comments towards anything with ears.

“what does this have to do with my route?” you spoke softly as you watched the news report with sadness.

With a sigh Namjoon shut the monitor off before sitting down next to you.

“Namjoon, what’s going on?” you asked in utter confusion.

“I know you literally just got into the whole hybrid world and this is confusing but I need your help. Once every year, hybrid owners from all around the world come here to participate in the world-famous hybrid contest. I don’t know if you know this but I’m a leader of a hybrid protection group, basically we just make sure everything goes down smoothly, and even though I hate the idea of using hybrids as show animals a lot of people try to hurt them so it’s best to have everyone on guard. Lately our spies and intel have been informing us that an Anti-hybrid group known as S.T.M is going to try and kidnap the contestants, these people are known to sell hybrids, torture them…kill them. we can’t let this happen- “he explained.

“yes- and that’s terrible, don’t get me wrong…but how do I come into this?” you asked nervously.

“we recently just got a copy of the blueprints their going to use for sneaking the hybrids away without being caught.” He stated as he clicked away on his computer.

You voiced your shock when you laid your eyes on the route you had slaved so hard over. Trying to find the perfect nooks and cranes of the town, finding places that were discrete and narrow…

Your eyes were glued to the work that you had produced, completely confused at how they ended up in the hands of the enemy.

“w-w-what…no way…there’s…it was for Mr. So” you stuttered as a small tear fell from your eyes. You had been used. Not only used but used for such a disgusting and morally incorrect cause.

“we…we think Mr. So is the leader of S.T.M…and we think some people that work in our office are part of it too” he spoke softly, clearly seeing you were having trouble taking in all this information.

“you…y-you don’t think I’m part of this right?” you asked worriedly getting ready to defend yourself.

“no! of course not! Oh god y/n that’s not what I intended!” he exclaimed as his hand rose to grasp yours comfortingly.

“you took in a sassy hybrid” he said with a smile “of course I didn’t think it was you”.

You took a deep breath before staring back at Namjoon.

“who do you think it is?” you asked with a low voice, still refusing to believe the fact that someone you know would help in ridding the world of hybrids.

“I really don’t know y/n…all I know is we have to stop it. Now I need you to think. I know your far from slack and you never cut corners but…there has to be something you missed…some way we can both provide evidence to lock Mr. So up just in case we can’t stop this from happening” Namjoon pleaded.

“I-I don’t know…” you said as your eyes glazed over the prints. You were extremely tired and constantly thinking about Jungkook, there must be a flaw somewhere…

“y/n…Right there!” Namjoon pointed out excitedly

Your eyes widened as you saw the intersection between the main street and the back alley, right where they would be crossing a small door guarded by an even small camera stood, ready to film it all.

Your sudden excitement was demolished when you realised something.

“that was too easy…no…we need a backup, they had to of seen that” you said shaking your head, going straight back into searching mode.

“what night is this taking place?” you asked as your eyes magnetised towards watch tower building. One that stood taller than all buildings in the city.

“the 23rd…why?” he asked before pulling up yet another language.

“isn’t that when the mayor is supposed to be Leaving town?” you asked curiously as a plan started to form.

With a quick nod from Namjoon. A smile made its way onto your face.

“you won’t need evidence, you can just catch them in the act” you said quickly before writing a few numbers down.

“Kasey from floor 2 told me that instead of flying him from the watch tower per usual, they’re driving him to the airport and transporting him by plane, she had the honour of designs roadworks. She’s the only one who will know the blocked roads. I’m betting one of them will be the intersection between here…and here” you said pointing towards the blue prints.

“cutting them off at the fish porting sight…of course! They wouldn’t fly the hybrids out. They’d ship them. the doc would be quiet and everyone would be to focused on the welcoming of hybrid watchers to notice!” Namjoon said excitedly.

“you can trust Kasey, she owns a hybrid and never leaves her house, only to hand in her work” you smiled as you passed him the slip of paper.

As Namjoon carefully slipped it in his desk you bit your lip anxiously.

“this is quite dangerous huh?” you asked quietly as you observed Namjoons’ behaviour.

For as long as you’ve known him, Namjoon has always been a brave soul. Rushing into action. Leading those who need to be lead… anything you needed he’d help with.

“just a little…yer” he smiled softly as you played with your hands “don’t worry! I’m careful!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his supposed to be comforting statement. The boy was anything but careful. If anything, doom and destruction seemed to follow him everywhere.

“I…just feel like I should be doing more, but…I’m not sure how I would help” you admitted guiltily.

“hey, don’t feel guilty…you were literally thrown into this world. You’re doing well, don’t sweat it for now” he said soothingly, his classic dimples presenting themselves for you to swoon over.

“okay…hey, what does S.T.M stand for?” you asked curiously.

“Superiority Too Mankind”

—–

“were never coming back here again!” Jungkook hissed as he slammed the car door shut angrily.

You laughed before reversing the car, getting ready to head home.

“what happened? Too much joy and happiness for this little kitty?” you teased in a baby voice, knowing he’d hate every second of it.

“Jungkook do’ya wanna see my collection of Star Wars figures?! Do’ya play! Do’ya wanna this, do’ya wanna that!” he imitated mockingly.

He groaned before slapping his palm to his face.

“and don’t even get me started about that other fucking pompous filthy dog” he said seething before letting out a huff of disbelief. All you could do was laugh, you would certainly be seen Namjoon again which meant somewhere along the line, Jungkook and his ‘new friends’ would meet as well.

“So, what’s the big deal? Why was he so nervous about your route?” he asked curiously as he turned to you.

Keeping your eyes on the road you contemplated telling him or not. Even though this was the beginning of your new relationship you didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t trust you with his thoughts, feelings or past.

If you kept this from him now, who knows what he’d keep from you in the future. It wasn’t a good foot start on. But then there was the whole ‘hybrid thing’. Would he get upset? is that Namjoon kept it between just the two of you?

“do you really wanna know?” you asked cautiously causing Jungkook to raise an eyebrow and heighten his curiosity.

He nodded quickly before perking his ears up.

“okay but you can’t tell anyone” you stated knowing full well that he has no one to tell, which is kind of sad…oh shit.

“okay, well…That route that I created turns out to be for not just one of my company’s biggest CEOs but for the leader of S.T.M only just the biggest anti- hybrid groups out there” you sighed in disappointment.

Jungkook stared at you in shock as you sent him a nod of confirmation.

“what’s he gonna do about it?” Jungkook asked, with a tinge of…something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“well, Namjoon is the leader of a protection group; they stop stuff like this all the time” you assured confidently to which you were responded with a scoff.

“please…rescue missions never work out. In the end, the hybrids always end up burnt” he said, venom dripping from his lips.

You sat in shock at Jungkook’s comment as if he had experienced it himself. You wanted to ask but didn’t want to push any boundaries.

“I think he’ll do it” you shrugged before silence fell over the car.

—

“Hey girl!”

Fuck.

Krystal.

You had momentarily forgotten the promise you had made to her.

Shooting Jungkook an apologetic look before reading yourself for an unwanted hug.

“are you ready for our movie marathon!!” she screeched excitedly, blocking your pathway too your door.

Your eyes trailed over to BamBam’s who looked like he wanted to end his life.

“didn’t I say…Thursday?” you said suddenly questioning everything. She nodded excitedly as you checked your phone….it was Tuesday…Tuesday morning.

“I just couldn’t wait!” she said before grabbing your keys and unlocking your apartment. As she skipped inside you, Jungkook and BamBam exchanged looks before groaning in defeat.

It’s going to be a long day.

—

Jungkook was three seconds away from screaming as Krystal, for the twentieth time in two hours tried to touch his ears.

“Krystal! Maybe we should switch places” you said as you stood up from your spot next to BamBam. Krystal pouted before nodding her head and starting to move.

“noooo, please y/n, don’t leave me!” BamBam pleaded quietly. You sent him a sinister smile before going over to join an angered Jungkook.

“how much longer?” Jungkook asked as he shifted in his spot.

“a long time” you sighed as you sunk into the couch, trying to focus on the movie and not Krystal’s constant blabbering.

“hey, question” Jungkook said as he leant closer to you.

You hummed in acknowledgement, signally him to continue.

“are…you and Namjoon a thing?” he asked.

“what? No, of course not” you said shaking your head. Namjoon was a friend and a work college, nothing else.

“it’s just…in the mall when we first met the hybrids from hell, he said ‘you’re y/n?’ that means Namjoons been talking about you. He always calls you for help, like does he not know anyone better?” Jungkook argued curiously.

“maybe Yoongi heard of me because I was the one Namjoon called for that whole robot disaster. I could hear other people when we spoke. And excuse you, I’m more than capable of helping! And maybe he just trusts me?” you argued back.

Jungkook shrugged before stretching out his limbs.

“to be honest…I’m not sure if I hate this more than being over there” he admitted causing you to laugh as he stared at the still rambaling Krystal.

You grabbed one of the couches cushions before putting it on your lap.

“here” you said before shoving his head down to lie down “it’ll go much faster if you sleep” you whispered before turning up the T.V in hopes of drowning out her voice.

Jungkook mumbled a couple of things that weren’t audible before shuffling his head around and repositioning his body.

—-

Seeing that Jungkook had fallen asleep, Krystal and BamBam left.

You didn’t want to wake the sleeping kitten so you just continued with your marathon before eventually getting uncomfortable in the position you had successfully remained in for 5 hours.

Before a sigh of boredom could escape your lips Jungkook’s body shot up. His eyes were dazed and confused but his breath was shaky and frantic.

“whoa! Hey there!” you exclaimed in shock as your hands hovered around the alarmed boy.

“y/n?” he asked unsurely as he calmed down.

“yer, hey, I’m here” you confirmed as he moved his body back to the sitting position he was in before. He took a deep breath before resting his head against the back of the couch.

“are you ever going to get a peacefully sleep?” you asked as you watched him carefully.

He sighed in uncertainty before lifting his head and meeting his hard eyes with your concerned ones.

“I was told once…ya’know by a friend that…that if I talk about my problems and fears, that they’ll go away…is that true?” he asked softly as he searched your eyes for the answer.

“I-I-I wouldn’t say go away…but they become easier to manage; and instead of them controlling you, you control them” you answered as his eyes trailed to his hands.

“it’s a lot…and…I don’t want to talk about all of it…I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. But if I do talk about it…will you listen?” he asked as his ears flopped down, his eyebrows furrowed as his hands slightly shook.

“of course, I’ll listen” you replied instantly.

His eyes connected with yours once more as the setting sun shone through the windows. The silence was comforting and warm as Jungkook’s walls began to chip away.

“then I think I’m ready to talk about it”

I usually post on fridays but this ones late! Hope you enjoyed it xx - Awkward Nugget

[blancheludis]

How To Be A Hero - Ch. 7

Harry Potter Fanfiction Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8672524/chapters/21644933

Grim Old Conversations

Later, he could not have said what he had expected to find, but it certainly was not this. Passing Grimmauld Place’s entrance hall in a hurry, tired and quite nervous about the upcoming meeting, Remus made his way to the library, until now the only really inhabitable room in the whole house. He was supposed to meet Dora here an hour ago, to spend some time together before the scheduled Order meeting, but was delayed when Moody wanted a detailed report of some failed mission.

As it was, he hoped that the library was still whole and standing – something that was not guaranteed with how badly tempered Sirius had been since arriving here. Remus could not really hold that against his old friend but still feared what might happen if Dora was in a bad mood, too. Those two could tear the world asunder without ever breaking into a sweat. Black temper, the both of them.

So it was with quite a bit of apprehension that Remus opened the door – only to be met by his friends bowing over something on the table between them, seemingly carefree and – giggling.

“What –” Remus started, only to trail off again. Neither of them were prone to giggle, having inherited the typical bark-like laughter of their ancestors. And, what was even more disconcerting, Sirius had not laughed once since being locked up in his childhood home. Instead he had hidden himself away, fire whiskey constantly at his side, preferring to spend his days in the past, brooding and feeling guilty.

Dora, too, had been atypically downcast these past weeks since the Tournament had ended and the outbreak of the next war was looming on the horizon. Understandably, really, seeing as the Ministry and most of her co-workers chose to live on in ignorance, denying Voldemort’s resurrection and missing all their chances to properly prepare. So Dora, as an Auror and Order member, did not only have to act all unconcerned at work but was also running herself dry with missions and Moody’s additional training.

For weeks now she had been tired and irritable, torn between seeking solace in his arms, like she had done for most of her life, and standing on her own feet, insistent on doing her part. At the same time she had been adamant that Sirius should not take unnecessary risks, wishing to keep her family safe, especially as he had only just been returned to them.

Finding them in such obvious harmony was therefore quite unexpected, a nice surprise, but Remus, ever the sceptic, was looking desperately for the catch.

“What are you doing?” He tried again, his voice firmer this time, though not even the normally so daft Sirius could miss the underlying nervousness. Twin mischievous expressions met his question, which did nothing to appease his trepidation.

“Well,” Sirius drawled, seemingly completely at ease within his own skin. “Nymphie and I had a very animated discussion earlier.” His cousin, while glaring angrily at the horrid nickname, flinched at his description.

They had had a ‘discussion’, and it had certainly been animated, though she was not too sure that anyone without Black blood would call it just that. In fact, they had both done their best to scream louder than the lovely Mrs. Black – who had been overjoyed at the entertainment they offered her.

Now that she was thinking about it, Dora was still angry. She knew the Black temper, knew the Black inability to remain at the side lines, knew the gnawing pain of being locked up in this of all houses. The whole aura of the house, the stuffiness, the dank and dirty rooms, the desperation still lingering in the wallpapers and furniture – she could feel it, could feel her blood sing out to it.

Maybe it was a Black thing, maybe she had entered the house expecting all of this and was therefore feeling it worse than other Order members. Maybe it was the boiling fury she always felt when thinking of her mother’s former family, when remembering her aunt Bellatrix and the words she had hissed when they had come across each other in Diagon Alley years ago. Dora had been very young, of course, but she still remembered that fanatical gleam in the familiar eyes, the obvious insanity.

So, yes, she could understand Sirius’ unwillingness to stay in this house, knowing that his aversion must be a hundred times worse than hers, seeing as he had a childhood worth of memories playing out inside these walls. But this was not only about him. He had family and friends to think about who cared for him, wanted him free and happy and alive.

At least Remus had not been on time to witness their screaming because it surely would have hurt him. To her, Sirius was family, a long lost cousin come back to life. To Remus, he was more, the last tender connection to the life he had lived before her. And, because he always felt the need to play peace-keeper, Dora was certain, that they would have hurt him, too, hurling words at him that might have been unintentional but cut deep nonetheless.

“So, in an attempt to keep the peace,” Sirius continued, oblivious to her inner musings. “We decided to get along.”

“You decided to get along,” Remus repeated slightly dazed, though the sarcasm in his voice was almost tangible.

“Yes,” Sirius agreed happily, then smirked. “We bonded over the one thing we have in common.”

“Apart from decades of insane ancestors and a knack for creating chaos wherever you go?”

“Exactly,” Dora chirped sweetly, sharing a mischievous look with her cousin, before both of them picked something up from the table and waved with it.

“You,” they chimed together, their relation obvious in the twin, slightly maniacal grins. It took a couple moments for Remus to register that the stuff they were still holding up were pictures. Pictures of their Hogwarts days.

“You were so adorable,” Dora gushed, expertly finding one where an eleven year old Remus was huddled into one of the armchairs in Gryffindor’s Common Room, wearing a too big sweater and his face scrunched up in utter concentration as he read a thick, old tome. His hair, he saw, was cut short for once, leaving him no chance to hide his sharp cheekbones, and the last remnants of baby fat that stubbornly refused to disappear until second year, despite him being otherwise skinny to a fault, due to his condition.

“I was just telling her about the incident in second year, when James accidentally emptied that cauldron all over you.” Sirius eyes were bright and the smile he wore threatening to cut his face in half as he held up another picture.

Little Remus was here covered completely in green goo, standing miserably in Myrtle’s bathroom while his ‘friends’ could barely breathe, so hard were they laughing.

“Accidentally?” Remus asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Of course,” the man-sized child insisted – and not very convincing at that. “We never would have done that on purpose. Not even if the potion we wanted to brew did not turn out as it should because we did not listen to you. Which you were telling us repeatedly. But that is not at all a reason to shut you up with drenching you in said failed potion.”

Looking from the glaring picture-Remus to the even more glaring real-Remus, Dora could not keep the laughter back any longer, falling backwards onto the couch and holding her sides in a comical imitation of the picture-Marauders.

“You are laughing at the wrong time, dear,” Remus said in a sickly sweet tone that was somewhat negated by the involuntary twitching of his lips. “Maybe you have forgotten that I have quite the collection of pictures of your childhood, additionally to the ones Andromeda sent me regularly. And we all know how much your mother loves to embarrass you.”

That made her halt, her hair turning red at the tips. Eyeing him nervously, she asked. “You wouldn’t, right?” But then her gaze fell back on the goo-covered Remus and another laughing fit overcame her.

“You can bet that I will.” Remus regarded her almost benevolently for a moment, then turned to his friend, who watched the proceedings with a highly amused smirk. “Alas,” and here he sighed dramatically, “I’m not in the mood to go back to my flat and get those pictures. So, we’ll have to deal with you first.”

Sirius gulped audibly, knowing that particular glint in his almost-brother’s amber eyes all too well. It was the same look he wore before executing one of his more ingenious pranks against those who wronged him or his friends personally. It was the look that made Slytherins run and Wormtail hide behind his curtains. It was the look, that had always promised the most fun to James and him – when it was not directed at them.

Finally sitting down at the table with them, Remus calmly searched through the heap of pictures. “Let’s see,” he breathed while sorting through years of jokes and adventures. “Say, Dora, have I ever told you about the day James and Sirius tried to break into the Slytherin dormitory?”

“Noo,” Sirius howled and jumped up, trying to snatch the very colourful picture out of Remus’ hands. But to no avail, as Dora had already seen it, eyes growing wide as saucers, while her laughter grew even louder.

Remus nodded and, with a predatory grin, he added, “The girl’s dormitory?”

“Do you want to grab some dinner and come over to my flat?” Dora asked, after the Order meeting was concluded and their fellow members began making their way out of Grimmauld Place’s kitchen, most wearing grim expressions or talking animatedly about recent events.

When Remus did not answer at once, she stopped her observation of the bustling activity and found him regarding her with a strange intensity.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” he finally said, his tone carefully neutral which, naturally, set off alarm bells in her head.

“What do you mean with that?” Dora intoned clearly, turning around so she could give him her full attention.

“I mean that it is probably not a good idea for us to be alone right now.” Remus was clearly uncomfortable with this topic. “It might give some people the wrong idea.”

In a good imitation of her mother, Dora raised one eyebrow in scepticism. “We have spent time alone together since I was five years old.”

Remus cringed, before nodding curtly. “Exactly.”

He then avoided her gaze, busying himself with studying the scratched table in front of them. This, more than the probable meaning of his words, rendered her speechless. A small but not insignificant part of her wanted to give in to the sudden rush of anger cursing through her, to snap at him and set him right. Another part, and that one sounded suspiciously like Remus himself, warned her to treat with caution. Lest she allowed her temper to worsen this situation.

“We never talked about it,” she then said softly, no judgement evident in her tone.

Feigning ignorance, which, Dora decided, did not suit him at all, Remus cocked his head to the side. “About what?”

“Us.”

“There is not much to –” Now obviously in denial, Remus still refused to look at her.

“About what Sirius said about us,” she specified. “About what is happening between us.”

“Nothing is happening,” he insisted, his voice so patronizing that something inside her snapped.

“It is not nothing,” Dora bellowed, attracting the attention of the few Order members that had not yet left. She never spared them a glance, though, but jumped up and dragged the unwilling Remus toward the stairs. Upon seeing that, Sirius wolf-whistled, but one patented Black death glare was enough shut him up. Which, at any other time, would have filled Dora with pride. Now, though, she had bigger problems. The crumbling of her oldest and most precious friendship, for one.

“Dora,” Remus tried to calm her, putting up resistance as soon as they were out of their colleagues’ sight, but she only fastened her stride, gripping his hand even tighter, as if she feared he would disappear if she let go of him. And that was not even that improbable.

Only when the dark door of the library shut behind them did she stop, looking at him almost pleadingly. “It is not nothing,” she repeated, her voice urgent.

“But what if it is?” Having expected loud protests and twisted logics, his answer surprised her, told her more about his struggle then his previous distance. Before she could regain her wit, though, he continued in that infuriating teacher voice of his. “It is only naturally that you find yourself interested in your male friends. You’ve done the same with Charlie and that boy from Auror training. You grow close and at some point you want to test your limits. That is not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case –”

“I want to test my limits?” Dora asked incredulously, her eyes narrowed. Normally that would have been the point where he stopped, retraced his steps and tried his best to salvage the situation. Now, though, he pushed on, intent on getting over this delicate topic.

“Yes. But I can assure you, you don’t have to. I’ve known you your whole life and we are friends. Nothing more. No matter what else you believe you’re feeling right now.”

“Just because I, unlike you, am not a master in bloody self-denial, Remus Lupin,” Dora snarled, more upset than she thought possible, “Doesn’t mean that I want things just for the sake of getting them.” Huffing like an infuriated mother dragon, she pointed her finger right at his chest. “I know what I want, and I know why I want it and –“

“And I’m not going to risk some very good friendships for a passing school girl infatuation,” Remus cut in coolly, seemingly completely unmoved, but the expression in his amber eyes was flat.

“School girl?” Dora shrieked. “This is what you see in me? Some wanton girl lusting for a professor figure.” Taking the effort to straighten herself, she tried to calm down a bit, though the angry red did not disappear from her cheeks or her hair. “Sorry to disappoint,  but you were not that impressive a teacher.”

Unfazed by her snide comment, Remus nodded. “Then we seem to agree on at least one thing. Maybe we can just put this whole ugly affair behind us then?”

Dora could not believe him, his cold demeanour. The nerve of this man. She knew – she had to be right in her guess that his feelings for her were not as inexistent as he pretended them to be. Well, that assumption was mainly based on Sirius’ observation, which should have been discouraging in itself – but they had both been Marauders. They knew each other. And Remus had not protested then.

Only now, after she had decided to go on the offensive, knowing full well that Remus would never do anything ‘untoward’ on his own. He did appreciate her and her parents’ friendships too much for that. But this vehement resistance was worse than she had feared. Especially now that their world was descending into another war and no one could be sure how much time they had really left.

“No,” Dora insisted, having to fight down the childish impulse to stomp her feet. “I will not. And if you’d only stop being stubborn for one bloody minute so we can talk -”

“There is nothing to talk about.” A distinct note of finality accompanied Remus’ abrupt tone and he turned around, striding towards the door.

“But I lo-” Dora began, desperately wishing that he would just listen to her, understand that she was completely serious.

“Don’t say it,” Remus cut her off, sounding as if he was already miles away, as if he was not interrupting the confession of her feelings for him. “Because you don’t.”

“Remus,” she tried again, seeing him open the door but unable to move herself. Every step further seemed to raise walls between them, almost tangible in the tense air.

Stopping right in the doorway, he faced her once again, though his eyes were fixed on a point over her left shoulder. “Be so good to tell Andromeda that I will be unable to attend our weekly dinner tomorrow evening.”

Then he was gone, just like that, and Dora seemed to sink in on herself, all strength leaving her shoulders, staring at the space he had occupied mere moments ago. It hurt, she mused, being rejected like that. Rejected by him of all people. And, even worse, she could not even begin to think of a way to salvage this situation, their friendship. They had always trusted each other with everything. But how could they do that now?

And she was not even sure whom she was angrier at. Him, for being his usual insufferable but honourable self, doing what he thought was right instead of what might bring him happiness for once. Or herself, for complicating their relationship like that, for falling for the one person she never wanted to lose. She was sure of her feelings, but maybe it would have been better to keep them hidden, to wait whether he would realize himself what they might have. If he would only give them a chance. Maybe it would have been better to have at least part of him – the part she had come to love in the first place, because he had always been there for her – than pushing him away because she wanted more.

A sudden cough interrupted her thoughts, causing her head to snap up hopefully. Had he seen reason and come back?

But it was only Sirius, standing awkwardly in the door. His face was unreadable, so she could not surmise what he thought of the whole situation. “It seems, that didn’t go too well.”

Feeling the need to punch something, someone if her cousin dared to make another badly timed comment, she said lowly, but dangerously, “Out.”

An elegantly raised eyebrow met her command. “May I remind you that you are in my house and –“

“Out,” Dora roared, her eyes glowing furiously. Sirius, very familiar with her typically Black temper, raised his hands in a placating manner.

“All right, all right. I’m gone.”

And then he was. And she was alone.