#completely ignoring the fact that she sexually harasses him just as often as he is mean to her

[guiltipanda]

I honestly don't understand the confusion about Tatiana stealing the bomb. Because it really is that straightforward.

This is a cliche that happens in movies all the time, as Spies loves to play with clichés. Why pay for something when you can just steal it? (Or kill the person selling it to you and then steal it.)

Also, Baron is (not subtly) portrayed as an idiot. Why not get the Russian spy who works for you to steal it to cause some confusion as to who actually stole it? They won't come after you for revenge then if you're deciding to let them live, or if they somehow get away. Even the American Secret Service assumed it was the Russians.

And the DMA was set up as the person purchasing the bomb, seemingly acting as if he were working alone, since Cynthia briefs Curt on him and not Baron, who is only revealed as the mastermind later. Even though if anyone had actually bothered to look into it, they would have found out that, apparently, Baron, the DMA, and Tatiana were all staying at the same hotel. (Again, Baron is an idiot.)

I really don't think they put all that much thought into it when writing that part, so no point in overthinking it.

The big thing that confuses ME that no one else seems to be talking about is....it's not just A Bomb. They specifically say, in the first scene with the informant, that it is a HYDROGEN bomb. That Baron plans to destroy an entire capitol city with.

The fact that Sergio, who is literally just some guy, has a HYDROGEN bomb to sell on the black market??? Is insane. (Forget even the fact that he carries it around in a fucking briefcase. I get it, it's a low budget musical, they're not gonna construct and wheel around a realistic looking hydrogen bomb.)

Also, whoever Sergio works for selling the hydrogen bomb, is willing to sell it to (as far as they're aware) ALSO Just Some Guy???? (Granted, a mass murderer, but also that kind of makes it worse.) Double insane.

so when are we going to talk about how poorly written the female characters are in s- *i am taken out mid-sentence by an offscreen sniper*

[oceanwithouthermoon]

Talking about Saiki and SA here a bit, btw, just a warning~

Thinking about how you said Saiki was a victim of SA and you’re literally so right. I feel like people sometimes just blow right past the fact that Kusuke is like that with his brother, but I think it can add a lot to interpretations of his character. But even if it only goes as far as what is shown in canon — which I almost doubt — it still remains the fact that Kusuke is doing all of that knowing fully well that his brother can hear him. It’s literally sexual harassment.

People point it out more often with Teruhashi and her brother (back to the reasons you said, people think it’s more serious if it happens to women). But the things he does, that’s all sexual harassment. And yet when Kusuke does similar things, it’s often brushed aside. Just,,, a bit crazy to me.

(And that’s not even mentioning when people completely disregard this part of Teruhashi’s story and act like she’s one-dimensional,,, but that’s another story)

But all this to say you’re literally so right. Anyways love you mwah =^•w•^=

THANK YOU SO MUCH. I NEEDD PEOPLE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THIS MORE.

(heed the sa warning + abuse and incest warning before opening, i talk a LOT here.. im mostly just reiterating what happens directly in the manga though.. ALSO EXTREMELY LONG POST WARNING..)

I always viewed kokomi and makoto + kusuo and kusuke as like.. paralleling each other ? not sure if thats the right word, but IMMEDIATELY when i saw both of these dynamics i made the connection.. i guess since it was so clear to me, i assumed that it was so obvious and on purpose that everyone else knew too, but so many people just.. ignore it..

i think most people that read/watch saiki k have recognized the fact that most main characters are meant to parallel or relate to saiki in at least some way, (if anyone who doesnt know what im talking about is reading this, im sure at least someone on here has done a better breakdown on that, i just.. dont know where to find that..) but this particular connection is one i dont see often and i genuinely believe that its almost entirely because of the whole "sexual assault/harassment isnt as serious when it happens to men as when it happens to women" thing.. most of the fandom acknowledge that what makoto does is awful and kokomi is a victim, so why is it different when its kusuke and kusuo ??

its EXACTLY the same.. what we see on screen with the saikis is WORSE, actually.. and what WE see from these two relationships isnt the full extent of what the two victims experience off screen, and i strongly believe that its heavily implied that both kokomi and kusuo have been through much worse with their brothers than whats shown..

we have no idea what kusuke couldve done BEFORE moving away and creating the telepathy canceler (and dont say that he couldnt have done anything cuz they were kids, cocsa [child on child sa] is still a thing and still valid, ESPECIALLY since they were both kid geniuses and kusuke definitely KNEW better.. but yea, kusuo implies that hes been like that for a long time, way before we ever saw them, sooo..) and its highly likely that whatever happened that we didnt see, before or after the move, was WORSE than what he does ON screen (i honestly dont want to think about what a guy with an incestual obsession with his brother does with cameras everywhere in his brothers home..) and what we see him do is already insane..

literally using his brother to get off, manipulating him and forcing him to play the games that give him sexual pleasure.. actually, speaking of, ive seen some people say that what kusuke does isnt really incest because the only reason he uses kusuo is because hes a masochist and kusuo is the only person that can overpower him.. this is a total misfire LOL, his upbringing alongside kusuo and his relationship with him is the REASON that hes a masochist, the ENTIRE REASON why thats what he gets off to.. its not just CONVENIENT that kusuo is there to get him off, he SPECIFICALLY seeks kusuo out and forces him to do things that give him sexual pleasure.. he believes that kusuo is the only person in the world that can ever give him sexual pleasure, what about that doesnt sound incestuous?

and one of the worst parts of it is, kusuo BARELY acknowledges how weird it is.. in fact, he's COMPLACENT in a lot of the games, obedient even, being bribed into them the same way he does with simple things like bringing kuniharu to work.. this is the biggest reason why i believe the off-screen stuff is probably worse, because kusuo is obviously conditioned to think that letting your brother get off to you is just.. fine.. we hardly see him try to get away from this situation beyond simply calling him gross.. theres one moment during the cat tank situation where kusuke tries to get him to grab the limiter off of his crotch specifically so that he can see him in that position and kusuo looks terrified and cant do it, BUT its unclear whether the expression of fear was entirely his concentration because he didnt wanna break the limiter or because he didnt want to let his brother get off to that, and i think its mostly the former ? idk, i dont remember this part that well but im preeeetty sure..

he does acknowledge that MAKOTOS behavior is bad when he sees it, but he never thinks its a big enough deal that he needs to help her or anything, (except for maybe the okinawa situation) which i know is probably just for the sake of not letting the gag manga get too serious, BUT it can also be explained pretty easily by this whole thing.. the way kokomi is treated is literally the same way kusuo lives his life, even down to their incestuous brother being possessive to the point of berating their potential love interests.. (which in this case happened to be each other, kusuo and kokomi..)

so yeah, kusuo just. doesnt really know how bad it actually is ? or maybe he does, but doesnt acknowledge it because he doesnt WANT to.. him barely acknowledging it and being complacent is part of why some people dont really get that its sa and incest, but his complacency obviously plays a big part in how its effected him too, like thats purposeful.. like i said, hes been CONDITIONED not to acknowledge it..

to me, it looks like a classic situation in which kusuo doesn't acknowledge his trauma because he knows that if he did, it would change his outlook on his life, his family, and his childhood FOREVER. he would never be willing to tell anyone or ask for help on his own accord, and accepting that there was anything wrong in the first place means, to him, dealing with that issue by himself for the rest of his life.

why would he ever admit that anything was wrong if nothing would change either way? the only thing that WOULD change is HIM, and why would he want that? isnt it better to be blissfully unaware than to knowingly suffer in silence?

plus, he genuinely does love his brother and knows in the back of his mind that kusukes feelings toward him comes from their unhealthy upbringing and relationship and its more complex than just "hes an evil guy blah blah.." because he isnt really evil and kusuo KNOWS that.. actually, he might be the only person in the world who COULD understand..

so yeahhhh.. kokomi and kusuo are both CANONICALLY victims of sexual harassment.. (and incestual abuse at that..) and, by my interpretation, implied victims of sa as well !! (im not really sure where the line can be when it comes to this sometimes, like when your brother sniffs your bedsheets and rubs himself on them or gets off to you right in front of your face or tries to get you to grab something positioned over his crotch so he can see you in.. THAT position.. but i already said that its pretty likely that both brothers have gone farther than that off-screen..)

anywayyyy.. this is so important to me and i wish people would talk and write about it more instead of pretending it never happened and mischaracterizing every one of these characters, especially for the sake of a ship like i was talking about in my other post.. it sucks that people so often just cast kusuos canon issues aside..

[breithenua]

*Trigger warning: SA, misogyny, denial of allegations*

I know that defenders of Vic Mignogna are hardly the biggest worry anyone has right now, what with Cheeto Hitler becoming President again. But something about these people just really drives me up the fucking wall.

Maybe it's the incredibly misogynistic air their conspiracy theories about Rial and Marchi supposedly framing him always have, while completely ignoring that he was also accused by numerous fans at conventions, some of whom were minors. Maybe it's the fact that none of them ever have any explanation of what they'd have to gain by making that shit up. And they don't have an explanation, because they don't want to subject their argument to reason.

Maybe it's the fact that they would rather deny the allegations despite his numerous *failed* attempts to sue for damages that have been dismissed again and again, than just say "Well fuck, he sucks. But his shittiness doesn't have anything to do with the characters he played". Like this isn't R. Kelly, he's not singing about groping underage fans in the booth, you don't need to feel guilty about still liking the stuff he was in. All that's expected of you is to acknowledge what he did.

Maybe it's that the few well-intentioned defenders he has left, apparently can't realize that someone who *seems* good on the surface isn't always actually good. Or that some cling to his professed Christianity and nice guy act as proof that he couldn't do those things. They don't want to admit that they were fooled by his act, and while that's a very human thing, what they're doing by continuing to stay in denial is hurt other victims of sexual harassment and sexual assault.

Legitimately all I can think of when I see anyone that still defends him, whether they actually have good intentions or not, is "I wonder what the SA victims in your own lives feel when they see you defending him despite all the evidence against him". Because I guarantee that they know someone who was SA'd, even if they don't know it yet. Even if all their friends are cis-het males (and judging from the defenders of him I see most often, that is a distinct possibility), it's a very high likelihood at least one of them is a victim of SA.

I don't talk about it much but I'm a victim myself, and I'm amab and still masc-presenting. My first serious gf shoved my hand between her legs on the day we met, multiple times until I did what she wanted me to. I know a lot of you are wrapped up in your misogynistic little bubbles, so you automatically discount the words of any woman that accuses someone of SA. So maybe you'll listen instead to someone that's at least adjacent to cis-male about how this affects SA victims. It isn't a good feeling to watch people you know disregard the words of an SA victim, and wonder if they'd believe you if you told them about your own experiences. Especially when the evidence is this high, and you still won't acknowledge it.

I legitimately hope some of you realize the damage you're causing, before you permanently alienate loved ones in your own life. I can tell you that from experience as well, that isn't a good feeling either. Or maybe you don't care and you'll laugh this off, but when you find yourself feeling alone because no one left in your friend circle actually gives a damn about your mental state, you'll only have yourself to blame.

[jarofstyles]

hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

-

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

���I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

[realcube]

jealous haikyuu!! boys

summary: the haikyuu!! boys getting jealous over you talking to a boy but as it turns out, that boy is in fact your relative 

characters: third year gym squad (lev, hinata, bokuto, kuroo, tsukishima & akaashi)

thank you to anon for this sweet request! 💖

(y/n) = your name

(b/n) = brother’s name

tw// sexual references, swearing

Lev Haiba 

he was already in a sour mood from practise bc kenma, kuroo & yaku had all ganged up on him so he was getting beat left, right & centre 

so he was feeling extra confrontational when he laid eyes on you laughing and chatting with some other guy, in the spot where you usually stand and wait for him after practise 

he was so mad >:( 

like he just had a shitty day at school and now some punk was trying to flirt with you- and you didn’t seem to be uncomfortable either 

DOES HIS SUFFERING KNOW NO END?! 😩😭

grrr like he had spent 90% of the day looking forward to seeing you and now you were talking to some other guy like he didn’t even exist :( 

a part of him knew that he was being overdramatic but the other part of him was like ‘all feelings are valid, lev. 💕💖💗’

like he literally worked so hard to be the best boyfriend possible and this guy thought he could just swoop in and steal your heart??? without even letting you braid his hair yet??? 

yeah, lev had spent too much money on cat keychains to lose you this far into the game 

also he loves you pls don’t leave him rn (y/n) 😭

so he marched up to you with a frown, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on the back just like he usually does as a greeting, ‘hi, babe.’ he murmured.

your attention immediately shifted onto your boyfriend and you automatically pouted upon seeing his glum expression, ‘hiya. are you okay, hun? rough day at scho--’

he held your hand by his lips and muttered from behind your knuckles, ‘who’s this?’ he inquired, vaguely gesturing to your brother

‘oh, lev! this is my brother! i don’t think y’all have met yet.’

lev blinked rapidly at what you just said, ‘brother? like- male sibling.’

you nodded while simultaneously quirking an eyebrow at his need for clarification at the simplest piece of information, ‘yes. my male sibling.’

lev let out a heavy sigh of relief as his lips curled into a smile, softening his grip on your hand, allowing you to pull it away, ‘ah, okay.’

then he turned to your brother and stuck out his hand, ‘nice to mee-- you don’t look anything like (y/n).’ he chirped, all trances of sadness leaving his face - it was kinda creepy how quickly he was able to do that 

model tingz

your brother shrugged, ‘yeah.’ he hastily took lev’s hand, giving it a firm shake before turning on his heels, ‘i should really get going now, bye!’ he called out before rushing off, quite intimidated by the fact you had a skyscraper for a boyfriend 

lev turned to you, a warm smile now gracing his features

‘uh, where did all your gloom go? you looked miserable just a few seconds ago!’ you inquired, playfully poking his cheek

lev shrugged, poking your forehead in retaliation, ‘i don’t know. i’m here with you now so i guess i don’t have a reason to be sad.’ he said nonchalantly, forgetting the fact he had gotten the results for his midterms today and he had failed maths horribly

but who need maths when you’re a model yk?

Shōyō Hinata

bruh- hinata didn’t even notice you were talking to someone UIEFGBVFE

once practise was over he literally just ran up and threw himself at you 

he has selective vision, he only sees the things he wants to see and rn, all he wants to see you under the moonlight 🥺

so he wraps you in a hug and peppers your face in kisses just like he usually does when he greets you after practise

then he noticed that there was some guy standing next to you, aggressively tapping your shoulder to request your attention even though hinata was clearly trying to tell you about his day at practise 

he unintentionally scowled at the boy before cocking his head to the side and asking, ‘who are you?’ 

although this tone of voice didn’t seem too nasty; given the context - accompanied by the sour look on his face - the question seemed to have threatening undertones

you’re brother blinked rapidly before uttering, ‘i’m (b/n).’

he continued to stare daggers at the guy, ‘what do you want from (y/n)?’

‘the maths homework answers.’ your brother chuckled, continuing to playfully poke your shoulder until hinata swatted his hand away

‘she doesn’t owe you an--’

you were extremely confused as to why hinata took up such a serious demeanour but then you realised that he had never met your brother before, so hinata probably thought there was just some creepy harassing you for the homework answers

although you were charmed by your boyfriend’s attempts to be ‘scary’ for you, you still felt the need to intervene

‘oh, shōyō. that’s my brother, by the way.’ you hummed, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck

both your brother and your boyfriend slowly turned their heads to look at you, sharing the same dumbfounded look

‘your brother?!’ hinata exclaimed while your brother now looked rather offended, ‘you didn’t tell your boyfriend about me- rude!’

to be fair, your one year anniversary with shōyō was approaching so you feel foolish about not telling him about your brother sooner- it’s just that it never really crossed your mind

‘i’m fucking leaving.’ (b/n) spat, turning on his heels; trying to make it seem like he was storming out because he was upset that you hadn’t mentioned him to your boyfriend but in reality, he was just getting tired of prying at you for the homework answers

‘i’m fucking leaving too!’ hinata hissed, imitating your brother’s actions until he got the gate of the school, then he turned back around and shuffled back over to you 

he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder and squeezing your waist tight as he whispered into your ear, ‘do you have any other secret siblings that you want to tell me about?’

you giggled, pressing a gentle kiss onto his collarbone ‘i don’t think so.’ 

Kōtarō Bokuto

mans thought you were leaving him 🥺

like why would you talk to another guy when you had a cool ace bf already? (˘･_･˘)

in bokuto’s mind, that could only mean one thing;

YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE HIM FOR AN EVEN COOLER ACE BOYFRIEND!! ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜

and the fact your brother was wearing a jersey didn’t help either

like, he doesn’t often get jealous when you talk to other guys but this one was wearing a JERSEY FFS!!! that meant he must be cool >:(((

also, you were laughing!

yeah, you sometimes laugh when you talk to akaashi or boys in your class but this time it was different 

the guy looked familiar but bokuto couldn’t put a finger on who he was - but he knew that the guy wasn’t from Fukurōdani as the colors of his jersey were a fruity teal and white - and this made him feel even more uneasy

bokuto knew what he had to do

he had to win you back by being thE COOLEST ACE BOYFRIEND!!

he ran a hand through his hair to it was extra spiky before swaggering up to you; chin up, back straight and chest puffed out

‘sup, doll.’ he said with a wink, forcing his voice to deepen

you sighed, upon hearing this unusual nickname, it didn’t take you long to figure out what was going on

bokuto didn’t even let you reply as he dropped to one knee and gently took you hand - making both you and your brother’s breath hitch in unison, thinking that you were about to witness a proposal and knowing bokuto, that didn’t seem completely impossible

however, instead of pulling out a ring; he pressed a tender kiss against you knuckles before pulling the pair of earbuds you had left at his house yesterday, out of his pocket and lowering his head as he held them out for you

‘i humbly offer these to thee.’

‘how did you go from a pimp to prince in 3 seconds?’ you inquired, snatching your earbuds from him while shooting him a disapproving look 

(b/n) couldn’t help but snicker at your boyfriends little performance, ‘i see he’s not changed a bit.’

bokuto hummed, looking over to meet eyes with your brother 

(b/n) smiled shot him a warm smile, ‘hi, bokut--’

‘do i know you?’

you instinctively gasped while your brother just laughed, ‘i’m (b/n); (y/n)’s brother. we met once after one of your games, remember?’

bokuto did not remember - at all - but he trusted that it did happen as that’d explain why he seemed so familiar

to avoid appearing any more ignorant, bokuto just nodded in agreement, ‘oh, yeah! it’s all coming back to me now.’ he chuckled awkwardly while getting up from his knee, ‘you just look so different with your jersey on, man.’

you rolled your eyes at how poor bokuto’s lying skills were but perhaps you should be more disappointed in your brother as he actually fell for it 

‘oh, for real?’ (b/n) asked, looking down at his chest while wondering if jersey really did the trick

needless to say, bokuto never forgot your brother’s face ever again lmao

Tetsurō Kuroo

upon exiting the building (after practise) and seeing you conversing with some guy by the school gates, he wasted no time in ripping his shirt off and parading over to you 

he mentally reassured himself that he had no need to be jealous bc there was no way you’d leave his fine-ass for some average guy that made you laugh by the school gate-- WAIT YOU WERE LAUGHING!?!? ◉_◉

 i mean, kuroo had made you laugh before- but you were just being so nice to this guy who he’d never seen around the school before which stressed him

plus, the guy looked like he was in college so kuroo was extremely worried that you might leave him for an older guy bc he had heard from yaku that some ppl like older men 😭😭

he could not let this happen ✋

his shirt now served as a scarf hanging around his neck as he strutted up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention

he wasn’t sure whether to go for the intimidation tactic or perhaps redirect your attention off of the guy and back onto your dearest boyfriend; so he went with both

‘(y/n)?’ he spoke, lowering his voice so it was more raspy - like his morning voice which he knew you were obsessed with

although kuroo is not ‘chemistry nerd’ smart, he definitely knows how to play his cards right IEFBERGLIEABVR

you hummed in response, swiftly turning to look at him before letting out a cackle upon seeing your half-naked boyfriend standing behind you

‘hey! don’t laugh at me!’ kuroo whined, his mask of confidence quickly shattering

‘put your shirt back on, tetsurō!’ you panted through guffaws, clutching your chest to prevent your heart from beating out of your chest 

honestly, it was quite hot but ofc you’d never admit that so you just had to hide your desire behind laughs

while you were laughing, kuroo turned to look at your brother, trying to form a glare but it looked more like a squint tbh

‘and you are?’

(b/n) wore a stunned look at how quickly your boyfriend’s attitude changed, temporarily unable to think up a reaction but then blurted out, ‘(b/n). you?’

(b/n) cocked his head to the side while backing up slightly, ready to make a run for it as soon as kuroo replied

kuroo didn’t intimidate (b/n), per se, it’s just that (b/n) wanted to get as far away from this interaction as possible as it generally made him feel uneasy

‘i’m (y/n)’s boyfriend.’ he said lowly with a menacing smile

‘cool.’ (b/n) voice cracked as he adjusted the strap of his bag before launching off into the horizon on his heels

a smug expression was plastered on his face as he gazed proudly at his work - he had managed to scare off an upperclassman with sheer manliness

by now, your laughing fit had died down and your lips formed a frown as you watched your brother bolt over to his car, hop in and drive away - presumably, back to your home

‘hey.’ you moaned, watching until his car turned a corner and left your vision, ‘he was my ride home!’

kuroo’s soul almost left his body upon hearing you say that, ‘you shouldn’t be getting in cars with crusty, older men anyway!’

you rolled your eyes, ‘he’s my brother, dumbass!’

IEHFBEVJEAU kuroo shut tf up immediately 😶

 ‘oops- my bad.’ he snickered before jogging out the school gates, ‘have fun walking, babe!’ he threw up a piece sign before disappearing round a corner in a similar way that your brother did 

Kei Tsukishima

tsukishima had just finished practise, he walked out the gym to notice that you were talking to some guy next to the vending machine

he literally almost had a heart-attack bc he thought it was kageyama 

but no

IT WAS WORSE

tsukishima never really got jealous when you talked to other guys bc he knew they really had nothing in comparison to him lol

i mean, tsukishima knew he was a catch: he’s lanky, bitchy, tall, rude, emotionally-distant, tall, untrusting, tall, insecure, surly, a horrible cook- did i mention he’s tall?

ok so maybe he wasn’t as much of a catch as he originally thought but the fact he is tall is really the thing that’s holding together his façade of arrogance

so imagine his shock when he sees you happily chatting away to a guy that’s 6″4 !!!!!!

for clarification, tsukishima is 6″2

tsukishima passed away on the spot 💀⚰

he had already logged onto Instagram and removed the ‘Taken 🔒’ out of his bio 

there’s no way he’s gonna be able to win you back now  ✌😔

he’s had his time has your tall bf- it’s time to resign

BUT HE WASN’T GONNA GIVE UP THAT EASILY

not before he indulged in some bitchery ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

he practised the scene 10 times in his head before executing it, starting by striding up to you and slipping an arm round your waist, pulling you against his chest

his eyes held a penetrating stare on your brother from above the edge of his glasses, he snickered mockingly as his index finger pushed the frames further up the bridge of his nose

honestly, tsukki tried his best to hide it but he was genuinely quite nervous not only bc he actually had to look up slightly to hold eye contact with the guy - which is something he’s obviously not used to - but also due to the fact he simply could not come up with a good insult for this guy; even though he was usually quite good at spotting people’s insecurities ‘:(

hence, all he could to was produce a deriding chuckle which was aimed towards the guy in hopes that it was make him feel half as insecure as tsukishima was feeling rn

‘what’s so funny?’ you asked, clueless to your boyfriend having an internal breakout while standing right beside you 

tsukishima rolled his eyes, realising that the guy seemed unfazed by his dirty looks so it seemed as thought tsukki would have to crack up the pettiness

‘who’s this chump, (y/n)?’ tsukishima leaned in to semi-whisper in your ear, but loud enough so your brother could still hear 

‘tsukki!’ you gasped at your boyfriend’s choice of words before scolding him further, ‘that’s my brother- he’s a 3rd year!’

tsukishima paled

he bowed to the point where he was basically a right angle ‘m-, uh, my apologies, sir. i ha-, um, i had no idea you were related to (y/n).’

he was sO EMBARASSED AAAAAAAAAAA

your brother reassured him it was fine but tsukki was apologising for another 5 minutes after that 

he promised himself never to get jealous again after that (ಥ _ ಥ) it only leads to trouble 

no matter how tall the guy is either- 

he swore that if he ever saw a 9″ guy talking to you and it upset him, he’d just close his eyes 😑

he probably should’ve promised to stop running his mouth too bc that’d probably result in a lot less trouble but- baby steps, y’all LMAO

Keiji Akaashi

i can’t really imagine akaashi as the type to get jealous tbh

and if he does, he deals with it pretty well

like if sees you talking with a guy in a way that bothers him, he’s definitely not confrontational enough to deal with it right there so he’d wait until y’all are alone at home or sumn 

but you had been acting especially distant lately 

so when he spots you hanging with some random guy next to the water fountain, he kinda snaps 

he stalked up to you so he could take your hand in his own, asking if he could borrow just a moment of you time so he could talk to you 

you accept, of course, wondering what this could possibly be about 

he explains how he’s been feeling and you feel quite bad tbh

you weren’t aware that you were detaching yourself from him but you had to blame your schoolwork tbh

once you expressed how schoolwork along with the stress of your job had really been getting you down lately so you asked you brother for assistance, he immediately pulled you into a hug

the last thing he wanted was or it to seem like he was desperate for your attention bc although it was nice, he respected how you had to prioritize other things/people

in fact, he only brought this issue up bc it was beginning to eat him from the inside out - his insecurities telling him that you had lost interest in him and like anyone else, he desired a bit of comfort

you reassured him that you hadn’t ‘lost interest’ in him and you separation as well as you current closeness with you brother was all to do with your workload and hopefully, sometime in the near future, you’ll be able to sit down, relax and just watch a movie with akaashi

that was all fair and lovely but there was still one thing that continued to bother him

‘who’s that guy you were talking to?’ he inquired, gesturing to your brother who was awkwardly standing alone by the fountain

‘my brother.’

‘oh-’

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, promoting, encouraging, justifying nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, yandere behavior, bullying, harassment, blackmail, sexual scenes, abusive relationship, manipulation, verbal abuse, abortion, attempted murder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁��𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟹 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚝.

𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙰𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜/𝚘.

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 .

𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had known him for the longest time, probably since you were both learning the alphabet.

Even back then he was a troublesome boy.

Loved to dip your hair in paint, pour glue inside your backpack.

Or always pushed you off the swings cause he wanted to play in it.

This didn't really faze you back then.

Most of the boys that age played such tricks on almost all the girls.

They all had a specific target and you were Wooyoung's.

You remember telling this one day to your mom, who simply chuckled.

"Honey, boys tend to tease the girls they have a crush on."

You remember looking at her with confusion.

How could they treat someone they like with such utter disrespect and rudeness?

"Because they don't know how to express their feelings."

Like an idiot you believed that, and being the naive little girl you were, you kinda started developing a crush on him.

You remember the first time you talked back to him, it's engraved in your head because it was the first time of many to come where his words, and actions, hurt you.

"Just admit you like me Wooyoung! You only tease me cause you're in love with me."

You remember the rage and disgust in his eyes as he shoved you to the ground, making you scrape your knee on the pavement.

"Get this through that dumb brain of yours Y/N....

No one will ever love a dirty little rat like you."

You came home crying that day. Hurt physically and emotionally at his words.

And the years to come weren't better, as you grew up, Wooyoung's bullying towards you escalated.

You hoped that after you graduated high school and started going to university, you'd be free from him, never see him again.

You could finally be happy for once in your life. Focus on your goals and career.

Everything was going great for you!.......

Until you walked into class and found out not only had Wooyoung been accepted to the same university...

He was majoring in the same field as you!

"Hey dirty little rat. Missed me?"

His cocky smile sent shivers down your spine, you were already fearing what he had in store for you.

If you thought high school was hell, it was nowhere near as awful as the torment Wooyoung was now putting on you.

Tripping you down the stairs to the point you had severe injuries.

Writing nasty and derogatory names on your desk that now wouldn't come off and you'd be forced to look at every time you went to class.

One time he went as far as stealing your assignments, ultimately leading to failing an entire semester.

You were so heartbroken and just done with his shit. You felt no more motivation to even continue studying.

Until a cute boy named Yeonjun transferred and took an interest in you.

He was super nice, friendly and not to mention good looking and hella tall.

It was more than obvious too that he wanted establish a relationship with you, anyone and everyone could see that.

Especially Wooyoung and he did not look the way someone else was making you happy.

So he devised a plan, not caring how messed up it was.

He made sure someone convinced you to go to a party he'd be at.

You found it odd that he was suddenly acting super nice to you, not even calling you those mild nicknames he called you in front of others.

And it shocked you even more when he suddenly apologized to you for everything he'd done to you, even offering to talk to your professor about your assignment.

His eyes seemed so sincere, you actually believed him.

Perhaps he finally decided to change, realized his behavior was unnecessary and immature and of course, like an idiot you accepted his apology.

You got wasted for the first time in your life that night and could not remember anything at all.

Until Wooyoung was 'kind' enough to brief you in on what happened.

He pulled out his phone and made you watch a video he had filmed of you two that night.

Your stomach hurled over as you realized it was a fucking sex tape, you and Wooyoung had actually fucked that night.

"What! No no! This couldn't have happened! There's no way!" You refused to believe it.

Wooyoung just smirked at you.

"Oh but it did happen kitten. You were so eager too as the video displays, you kept asking me to go harder, begging me for another round and wanting my cum all over you..."

"I wonder what would the whole school say if I posted it online....especially Yeonjun."

Now you realized what his game was. He was never sorry. It was just another form of him to torture you, and this tipped the scale.

You were so shaken up, you got down on your knees and begged him not to show anyone the video.

"Please Wooyoung! I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Anything?......really? How about becoming mine then?"

And now you were forever tied to your worst nightmare.

Wooyoung especially enjoyed seeing Yeonjun's disappointed and heartbroken look when he announced that you two were now dating.

Now he couldn't even look at you anymore, feeling somewhat betrayed by your actions.

You wanted to tell him you were sorry and explain to him what was going on, but Wooyoung had eyes on you 24/7.

He even made you move in with him and now even your free time had to be spent with him.

You hated living with him.

He not only made sure to verbally abuse you, but actually seemed to have fun causing tiny accidents to happen around you.

His favorite was when he'd peer over your shoulder as you tried to study.

He scoffed. "Why even bother if all you'll ever be good at is spreading your legs?"

Those were his favorite insults: "whore" "slut" "bitch".

One time you were just so fed up with him, that you ended up snapping back.

"Shut the fuck up Wooyoung! You're such an insufferable piece of shit, no wonder your mom left you and your dad back in middle school."

As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back in.

Wooyoung was livid at your words.

He not only yanked you up by your hair, but he actually threw you to the floor and started kicking you harshly.

He didn't kick you for too long though, he did not want to risk anyone questioning when he told them you fell down the stairs.

And especially not take you to the hospital.

You had no choice but to stay home as you tried to recuperate.

You remember one of those days, you came home from a quick trip to the convenience store and found some girl blowing Wooyoung on the couch.

You weren't fazed. He often brought girls home and fucked them right in front of you.

You just sighed and decided to ignore the shit eating grin he'd give you whenever you caught him.

You decided long ago it wasn't worth it.

You two weren't even dating cause you wanted to.

He just loved controlling you, having power over you, holding something over your head.

He had this obsessive need to make you miserable.

And you hated that you had no choice but to allow it.

Even when there were things you didn't want to do, you had to or he'd once again blackmail you.

The one time you adamantly refused to was when you found out you were pregnant.

Wooyoung was just as shocked as you.

"And you're telling me I'm the father?"

"Uh......I can't have sex with anyone who isn't you, obviously you're the father."

Wooyoung couldn't let you go through with the pregnancy.

"Get rid of it." He told you.

You wrapped a protective hand around your bump.

"No! This is my baby and I won't allow you to harm it!"

You weren't going to budge though.

"Show the tape to everyone! I don't give a fuck anymore! But I'm not killing an innocent child who has done nothing wrong. "

Realizing he was losing control of you, Wooyoung knocked you out unconscious, deciding to take matters into your own hands.

You woke up a day later, feeling sore and aching in your inner thighs and lower abdomen.

You immediately panicked and sensed something was wrong.

You didn't need Wooyoung to tell you, you knew he had taken you to a clinic and had the baby removed.

You were so shaken up, cried your eyes out and no longer had any will to fight against Wooyoung.

You felt like it all all your fault, the death of your baby was your fault.

You weren't strong enough to save it and it was killing you inside.

You no longer trusted anyone, and you didn't have the heart to talk about it to anyone. Not like they'd believe you or care about you.

But someone did notice, Yeonjun never stopped caring about you and although he was hurt you went with someone else, he still had feelings for you.

And he was very observant and noticed that ever since you started dating Wooyoung, you were skipping a lot of classes....

And you were having a lot of accidents...too many in fact.

And now he just saw you completely lost and like a walking dead.

"Hey Y/N, are you ok?" He asked you one day.

You were going to respond, but the devil made an appearance by your side.

"She's fine and was just coming home with me. Weren't you baby?"

To everyone, it looked like a sweet and caring smile from your doting boyfriend, but you knew it was all fake.

Nonetheless you just kept your head low and went home with him.

Yeonjun noticed the way you trembled when he put his arm around you, noticed the frightened look in your eyes and he knew something was wrong in your relationship.

When you got home, Wooyoung was pissed off at you and immediately struck your face.

"I thought I told you not to talk to him! Can't you obey a simple order you fucking bitch?!"

When he pulled out a knife from the kitchen, you were now scared for your life.

You tried to fight back, but Wooyoung was stronger than you and you were still in pain after the abortion.

He knocked you to the floor and managed to land 2 stab wounds into your right side.

You could never forget the wrath and hate in his eyes as he told you:

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

By some miracle, someone taller and stronger than Wooyoung got him off you, that someone being none other than Yeonjun.

He felt glad about following his hunch and followed you both back home, otherwise he'd end up reading about you in the newspaper.

He had no trouble in subduing Wooyoung and calling the police.

The only thing on his mind was getting you to the hospital as soon as possible.

"It's ok Y/N. You're going to be fine." He assured you

Your physical injuries were easy to recover from, but the emotional trauma and abuse Wooyoung put you through was not.

Yet Yeonjun was there every step of the way, going with you to therapy and just listening to you and your terrifying story.

For the first time in your life, you felt truly loved and happy....

And safe.

A year after the ordeal, you were doing much better and were nearly fully recuperated.

Yeonjun and you rented a place together and were completely in love with each other.

Everything seemed to be going perfect....

And then one day your phone rang.

Picking up, you asked "Hello?"

"Don't think it's over yet you dirty little rat."

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt77

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

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Damian spent the next day with Marinette at the hotel. Chloe and Luka both had school and Mari needed someone to keep her calm before the meeting with the Justice League. Not to mention Damian did not want to be stuck in the apartment with Drake. When Hawkmoth was unmasked it created a lot of ripples that everyone was still reeling from. Françoise Dupont was one more casualty. Between the ongoing investigation that was happening because of what happened to Marinette and the fact that Hawkmoth’s son went there the school was shut down until they found new staff at the very least. Since Damian hadn’t transferred yet he was off until it went through.

“So how’s your family taking the announcement?” He figured she’d ask eventually but it had taken her three hours so he’d give her points for restraint.

“The same way they take everything. It’s just one more thing for them to make fun of and overanalyze.” He saw her expression go hard and when she spoke there was a dangerous edge to her voice.

“They’re making fun of your sexuality?” He actually shivered at her tone. This was why Batman himself was terrified of this tiny girl.

“No. More making jokes about me having a significant other at all. Apparently they all decided that if I was ever to show interest in someone it would definitely not be reciprocated. At the moment they seem to be debating whether I’m making the whole thing up or holding my boyfriend’s family hostage to get dates.” It was their usual nonsense and he was used to it. Marinette however looked ready to transform and go back to Gotham to ‘talk’ to them.

“You should tell them that’s not okay. You shouldn’t be so worried about dealing with them that you’re afraid of living your life.” Damian just scowled at her in annoyance.

“I’m not afraid of those idiots.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I didn’t say you were. But how many times do you decide to not do something because you don’t want to deal with the fallout? How often do you debate whether it’s worth it to do something that actually makes you happy because you think they’ll give you shit for it? They need to know that’s not okay. You should be able to live your life without being concerned about what they’ll say or do.” That made sense, to a point anyway. When he really considered it he realized she was right. It never would have occurred to him to ask to go to an arts school because he didn’t want to listen to their comments. At the same time, it was how they acted with everyone in the family.

“They don’t just do it to me you know. They constantly harass each other just as much. I could just ignore it and not let it control my actions.” He hadn’t realized how much it did control his actions if he was being honest. That was one of the many things he’d learned about himself because of his friendship with Marinette. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“That doesn’t make it alright. Just because they don’t discriminate in their stupidity doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be called out on it. Just like when I call you out for being an asshole.” He gave her a flat look but she just smiled at him. It was becoming harder to keep a straight face around her and he couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

“Any idea what you’re going to say to the Justice League?” All else fails, redirect the conversation. Marinette grimaced at the question before blowing out an annoyed breath.

“I assume that Superman is going to start before I can get a word in edgewise so having an actual speech planned out is pointless. There’s only a few things I want to make clear. First that the ban to travel to Paris will be lifted at the end of the week in case of ‘loose ends’. Mainly I just want them to stew about the fact that they can’t do whatever they please.” Damian let out a snort of laughter at that. Given the way they’d all tried to descend on Paris the moment Hawkmoth’s capture hit the news he understood why she was doing it. They didn’t wait to confirm she had in fact caught the real villain and could have just been putting Paris at risk. “Second, that they still have absolutely no authority over the Miraculous themselves. Having Wonder Woman’s backing should help with that but I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them try to tell me to give them the Miraculous. And third, if any of them think tracking us down to take them is a good idea they’ll get the full force of the wrath the Kwami are capable of. Given that Plagg destroyed the dinosaurs in an ‘oops’ moment they should probably be worried about what he can do when angered.”

“As much as I would like to believe words will work, you may have to do another demonstration.” Marinette just nodded at him. She knew as well as he did that this wasn’t going to be easy. It was highly probable that they’d spend the next six months or so showing various members of the League that they needed to back off. Yet another reason for him to stay in Paris. Damian still didn’t understand why Marinette didn’t just ask him for the civilian identities of the heroes so she could deal with them herself. “Did you figure out which wheelchair you want to get? My father said he’d pay the difference if you need something out of your price range.”

“That’s a kind offer but I’m not struggling for money. My business has actually gotten even better since the fashion show. I might actually have to hire some people to make the clothing so I can concentrate on design if I don’t want to start turning people away. I’m also getting a lot of interest from clothing manufacturers about designing discount clothing to market to a broad audience. Honestly just doing one of those would likely have me set for life. I’m just glad I’m at the point where this won’t completely destroy my parents financially. While it’s nice to know they love me enough to sell the bakery and move somewhere that’s accessible to me I would never want them to have to.”

“Well if you need tips or names of people to help with that, Drake would be a good source. I know that you have Jagged stone but global manufacturing is different from music in a lot of ways. Wayne Enterprises deals with a lot more of the problems you’re likely to see.” She nodded thoughtfully before offering him a bright smile.

“Thanks, I might just do that. It’ll be helpful to talk to someone who knows the ins and outs of things. I was actually going to ask you since I have a feeling you know a lot more about your father’s business than you let on.” Damian just blinked at her for a moment before giving out a sigh and pulled out his phone to send her a list he’d put together. It was names and numbers of people in the company who could help her along with various laws, specifically intellectual copyright laws, and some other things to do with business. She just gave him another bright smile before she started drawing in her sketchbook again. He really wished he could figure out how she did that.

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[ginnyggginny]

Francoise Gilot painted “Adam Forcing Eve to Eat An Apple” in 1946, the year she moved in with Picasso to become his young muse. In a New York Times article, Alexandra Schwartz quotes Gilot saying that this is no accident. The painting depicts a woman looking at the viewer with an apple forced into her mouth by an angry man with furrowed brows, and the Biblical title implies a sense of lost innocence and hindsight realization of her own unfortunate situation. The description of a “forced” act calls to mind descriptions of sexual assault, a nonconsensual penetration. Gilot is keenly aware of this connection, as she compares Picasso to the monstrous pirate Bluebeard, who 

… didn’t cut the heads [of his wives] completely off… he preferred to have life go on and to have all those women who shared his life at one moment or another still letting out little peeps and cries of joy or pain and making a few gestures like disjointed dolls, just to prove that there was some life left in them, that it hung by a thread, and that he held the other end of the thread. (Schwartz)

Gilot clearly delineates the emotionally manipulative tactics that Picasso used, with his desire to keep all his women at arm’s length. Her description of him keeping his muses “hung by a thread” (Schwartz), which he holds in his hand, shows the way Picasso treated her and others as doll-like objects that he could use however and whenever he wanted, and that he had a sense of entitlement towards their bodies, due to a successful career and an inflated career. Even today Picasso is cited as one of the most famous artists in the world, with Guernica and Weeping Woman being some of his most well-known. It is worth noting that Francoise Gilot was a painter in her own right, and she became a muse in an effort to make connections within the art world that would improve her own career by association. She expected that working with Picasso would bring her artistic opportunities, though likely did not expect the mistreatment she received. And yet she is not famous. The tradition of the muse is named after the Greek goddesses who blessed men with inspiration, but it is most famously used referring to the women who posed for portraits, dating back to the Renaissance when classical-style realistic paintings came back into fashion. The essay “Sexual Violence: Baroque to Surrealist” by John Loughery claims that the proliferation of nearly-nude women in Renaissance painting, so ubiquitous in art museums, comes from a more sinister tradition, describing that the paintings “speak volumes about the power factor inherent in the post-Renaissance tradition of the female nude, and, with their riveting straightforward glance, they point ahead to Manet’s Olympia, Zola’s Nana, and an avalanche of prose and imagery that affirms women’s comfort with their own sexuality, or male projections about that level of comfort” (Loughery 299). This essay sees these centuries-old masterpieces not as ethereal works of art that transcend sexuality, but as works of pornography that were designed to titillate the viewer and bypass the highly religious era they came from with their classical setting. Putting aside the oil brushstrokes, Edouard Manet-- and Pablo Picasso-- are simply depicting the nude body of a young woman. While in many cases this situation may have been consensual, Loughery claims that it would be hard to put aside the inherent power dynamic. Like a high-ranking executive of a film company taking advantage of a young woman, a famous and well-connected artist would certainly hold sway over an ambitious young girl. It would be hard to ignore the age difference between the muse and the artist, the often married man and the often-underage ingenue. Also, the idea that “male projections about that level of comfort” discounts the assumption that the women involved would be comfortable with her depiction. Women are often expected to be beautiful and available, Andrea Pino-Silva argues in the essay “I Believe You, Como Eres”, with their “success determined by the boys we charmed at our quinceaneras, of the lengths we took to prepare ourselves to be wives (Pino-Silva)”. There is a clear gender division, visible in every situation from a muse sitting for a portrait to a girl in a ball gown at a quinceanera. The man is expected to have power, he is masculine, the one who asks the girl to dance, the one who moves his model into the position he wants to paint. The woman is just beautiful and must work to keep herself that way. Not only can the artist use his own power and position to take advantage of the muse, he can choose to make her appear however he wants, like a posable doll-- he can make her look like she deserves whatever attention she gets.

Nowadays, the world of artist-and-muse shows itself differently, as the prominent art forms have shifted with time. The familiar story of a man exploiting a woman for creative gain is now most often associated with the film industry, in particular with director Harvey Weinstein and his actress victims. In the case of Weinstein, this is put in a very sinister light with Salma Hayek, who wanted to star in a movie about the artist Frida Kahlo but was forced to include sexual scenes in order to appease Weinstein’s own sexual desires. The muse and the model are very similar, in age and in public perception-- being a beautiful woman paid to look good and inspire works of art. One such model/muse is Kaori, a sitter for the Japanese photographer Araki Hirohiko. During the time of the #MeToo Movement in 2018 and 2019, when millions of women came out with their stories of sexual harassment and assault, Kaori told her story to the New York Times, describing how the photographer emotionally abused her. She describes Araki as treating her “like an object (Kaori)”, when “he asked [her] to do abnormal things, and [she] did them as though they were normal. (Kaori)” Kaori described an incident in which the photographer took nude photos of her, and then published and distributed them without her permission, as described within the New York Times article . It is clear that Araki has taken advantage of his position of power, both as an elderly man in a patriarchal Japanese culture, and in his successful career as an artist allowing him to take liberties with the normal steps of asking for permission and consulting her. This is an extremely similar scenario to Salma Hayek’s experience with Harvey Weinstein, as along with his sexual harassment, Hayek endured extreme emotional abuse. Hayek states in her op-ed for the New York Times that “the range of his persuasion tactics went from sweet-talking me to that one time when, in an attack of fury, he said the terrifying words, ‘I will kill you, don’t think I can’t.’” Like Picasso pushing the apple into Gilot’s mouth, and treating her like a poseable doll rather than a real woman, Kaori and Hayek face emotional abuse from creative men. In fact, the distribution of Kaori’s images could be compared to revenge porn, in which images that have been captured with consent of the body depicted are released without permission, usually for spiteful reasons. Revenge porn is considered a Class A misdemeanor in many states and is considered a form of sexual harassment. The fact that this is such a widespread problem, to the extent where it has been banned by Ireland, shows that the idea of distributing non-consensual nude images has evolved far beyond the Victorian boudoir images of young women resting in nothing but a necklace-- the “male projections about level of comfort” that Loughery mentioned, where male pleasure in viewing a woman’s body is more important than her own comfort and consent.

Women throughout history are often disbelieved, ignored, and left to their own anger and rage. Francoise Gilot channeled her anger into her own Cubist paintings, following a tradition started by Artemisia Gentileschi among other underappreciated female artists who suffered from sexual abuse. Gentileschi is best known for the iconic painting Judith Beheading Holofernes, another example of a Biblical motif being used to convey another meaning. In this image, Judith is bent over the man’s helpless body, her sleeves rolled up over her elbows. muscles outstretched to drag the sword through his neck. Blood spurts out gorily, as Judith is attended by her maidservant. Though the woman in the painting is Judith, it is likely Gentileschi as well-- a woman who was raped by her father’s friend as a teenager, and who was subjected to a humiliating rape trial, according to John Loughery’s essay. The story of Artemisia Gentileschi’s life shows how little her life differs from that of a modern-day rape victim, although Judith was finished in 1621. The painting becomes a revenge fantasy, a way for Gentileschi to release her pent-up rage, visible catharsis as Holofernes becomes her rapist, and her maidservant holding the basket for his severed head becomes a metaphor for the women who unite over a shared enemy. Pablo Picasso and Gentileschi’s rapist were both artists who took advantage of their success and power, in addition to their position as creative men-- as art has been considered a feminine pursuit, creative men may compensate for their choice of career by acting with masculine bravado.  Rebecca Solnit writes about the patriarchy’s discomfort with women, and desire to erase feminine attributes among men. 

If emotion must be killed, this is work that can make women targets. Less decent men hunt out vulnerability, because if being a man means learning to hate vulnerability, then you hate it in yourself and in the gender that has been carrying it for you. Girl and pussy have long been key insults used against boys and men, along with gay and faggot; a man must not be a woman. (Solnit 30)

[general-mahamatra]

ahh im so glad!!! thank you for your answer! to expand on the protective hcs, how do u think each of the wolves show their protective side?? like, what kind of things would they all do for eachother? ALSO (i hope this isnt too much fknhknh) but sexuality hcs and maybe family hcs too? like the kind of families they have outside of pack and how it effects how they get along with their wolfy fam

Of course! I love the anons I've been getting and yours blessed my night so much! I really wanna give you a name so I can refer to you if you ever come back 👉🏻👈🏻

Maybe,,,, maybe timber anon,,, cmere timber anon I fucking love you so much

(damn this became long)

But protective sides!

Jack: Jack is the kind to do anything to protect his pack, even if it means going behind their backs to work with the order. His idea of protecting them is taking important tasks on his own and electing explicit help from specific Order members when necessary. He doesn't want his packmates to get hurt in some way so when it's life or death and only one person needs to get hurt or die? That'll be Jack. He will do anything to make sure his new family is safe, even if it means putting his life on the line.

He tends to ignore their please to help him, often shutting them out to do it all himself. He rarely tells them the entirety of his plans, even when they're as a group. He'll always give the instructions of grouping the other wolves together but he always scopes around on his own. Never, NEVER does he let someone accompany him. If someone is gonna get hurt, it will only be him.

Hamish: he's very protective, that's definitely known. Just not in terms of he'll go out and kill someone for it just because they're a threat. He's much more of a talking kinda guy. Pep talks, stern conversations, that sorta thing. He's much more likely to see how far he can get with his words before he moves on with anything else, but he's prone to get angry. While he isn't physical, his tone gets harsh and he'll do everything considered to be rage except for scream. When he's angry, he talks fast and sharp. His words will jumble together and he will get up close and personal, but never hit.

His protectiveness is more within the pack than taking out threats. He's one to give them a dose of reality and tell them what's up.

Randall: his idea of protection is using common sense. He will always point out when something is a terrible idea and makes a stand. He refuses to be swayed from his position and even if he loses a game of beer pong and is forced to agree, his mind is never changed. He will ways express his worries. "The Order is our ENEMY", "they tried to kill us a couple months ago!", "they literally stole our memory to control us", "this is a FUCKING DEMON HOW DUMB ARE YOU GUYS??"

Although the pack tends to make him a pushover, he will never shut up. In fact, being shoved to the side in big important missions is what makes Randall louder. He WILL be heard and he WILL make sure of it. And even if someone says his idea is bad, he will stew. He will sit and broil over until he figures out how to get his idea and pull it off. Even if it means risking his own hide to kill someone to complete a ritual.

Lilith: oh yes, Lilith. The girl named after the mother of all demons. You know her idea of protection is vicious. She is the one who will openly go to slit someone's throat for so much as looking at one of her packmates wrong. And she is snarly. She will growl and snap at whoever gets too close and will gladly punch someone for saying something wrong.

Her idea of protection is genuine killing. She is open about how vicious she is and uses it to her advantage to keep her pack safe. She refused to let anyone lay a harmful finger on her family.

-----

Sexualities!

These are my personal views on these characters from watching the show! I'm completely open to all other interpretations!

Jack: straight! He may have dabbled a bit with men but in the end, he came out preferring girls.

Hamish: he doesn't label himself. To the outside view he is bisexual but if you ask him, he will say he likes whoever. Labels just aren't for him.

Randall: bisexual! And he is VERY open about it. He is a genuine 50/50 with boys and girls and will openly admire them all. He's also definitely the most queer and accepting given how casual he is with cross dressing and how affectionate he has been with both Hamish and Lilith separately.

Lilith: bisexual leaning girls! She has expressed interest in boys (as seen with Randall) but in the end definitely prefers girls. She may end up being lesbian later on but for now, she still has minor interests in boys from time to time!

-----

Their families outside of the pack

Jack: we already know about his family. With basically all of them gone, Jack is left alone in the world with only his friends. Its why he's so protective of them. He's already lost his blood, he doesn't want to lose his found family.

Hamish: he isn't that open about his family but he has mentioned them. Given how we don't know how old he is, it's difficult to determine a lot about him. From my basic guess, he's in his late twenties given his parents are both still alive and how close he is with the pack despite being the senior member.

He is DEFINITELY a trust fund baby, but he's good with it. He's spoiled with money (probably from his mom marrying a sugar daddy or something--which could allude to why he's "hot for teach") and resources. But, given how he's genuinely mature and seen to live within the den, it's safe to assume his family taught him how to properly use his money. They seem like they have a good relationship.

He's definitely an only child and it's very much why he seems so much more mature. He grew up on his own and after years of learning how to deal with people, he is able to properly deal with the pack and assert himself properly while still being open and genuine. He never takes full control.

Randall: he has brothers for sure, it's why he's so athletic. He comes from a family centered around sports and football and every Superbowl they would send the boys out to play with the rest of the family at their parties. Its what got Randall so into working out and sports. Of course there were fights, but he got along with them pretty well since they were all close in age. Obviously, he was the youngest but shh, only by a year.

Its why he's so energetic and playful with all the pack. He's boisterous and loves to harass the others, especially Hamish with the nicknames. To be fair, though, he nicknames EVERYONE. Jack is only ever Jacky Boy in his mind.

Lilith: she isn't too close to her family. She isn't open about them at all and never mentions them to anyone else. Most of her times over the holidays are spent on campus with either the pack or some of her friends from other classes. Its not entirely known why she doesn't like her family, but it's suspected it may have had to do with her feisty attitude and tendency to lash out at those close to her.

It's possible she had a sister and was known to be close with her despite a bunch of arguments. They were probably the reason Lilith ended up splitting away from her family.

Its why she tries so hard to stay close with the pack while also keeping them at a distance. She doesn't want a repeat of what happened with her sister; she can't lose another family.

[sainadazai]

When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.4

I wanna be an intern too, you ragedy ann looking ass hoe 😠



Y/n pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

All goes well when you are ignorant is what my dear best friend would say to me now, as I sit in the very back of the class unfocused on how our teacher is introducing an activity I have no chance of participating in. All I knew was that when Mr. Aizawa walked up to the board and wrote names of people getting offers, I wasn't one of them. Not that I expected to be, considering I wasn't in the sports festival, let alone the school at all back then. 

However, I did notice a small inconsistency in the order of the most offers. I was pretty sure that boom boom had gotten first place in the festival, him being there is what convinced me to transfer, but his name was actually second on the board. 

Todoroki had taken the place of first as far as offers were concerned. Todoroki the nice boy who I used to meet when I snuck away from my fucking prison cell. Call me privileged for complaining about living in a mansion All my life, but I much prefer being here. With common folk. They ground me. 

I peeked up from my phone at the red and white head of hair in front of me, he didn't seem all that fazed. Although maybe it was just the lack of seeing his face that made me believe he couldn't care less about all but one of those offers. Still, his business is his, and my business is the new Ao3 update on my favorite chrollo lucilfer fanfiction. What a babe. 

I decided that the class as of right now would be of no importance to me, considering I will have no offers, and bakugou-the reason I came here- hates me like I'm a piece of gum stuck under his shoe.  Through that conclusion I allowed myself to dissolve into the world of hxh and forget about how boring this world is. 

Could my power beat Killua or go in a fight? I mean, it doesn't enhance my strength like they did trying to get into Killua's house so physically they must be stronger. 

"Y/n! Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

Mr.Aizawas voice seemed almost shot at me as my gaze rose from my phone in my lap to meet him at the front of the room. He looked displeased to say the least. Well good for him, im displeased too, I might not be able to beat a fucking twelve year old in combat. 

"Huh?"

"You were grumbling, what's so important you had to tell us, hm?"

I thought it through for a second- just kidding, I never think anything through. 

"Oh, well I wasn't sure if I could beat Gon in a fight, but I'm not coming to the realization that if Chrollo is my boyfriend, I shouldn't have to fight anyone at all. I can just be a pretty face in the backgrounds and then after he wins for me i'll suck his-"

"Enough, y/n." Mr.Aizawa no longer held a tired looking face, his eyes were wide and an uncomfortable cringed was set on his face. As I peered at the rest of the class many also had shocked eyes, but unlike our teacher, held faint blushes. 

Minus midoriya, his face was completely red and his eyes void of life. I must've killed him, huh. 

"Wait!"

In an attempt to regain some dignity, I tried to correct myself.

"I would....not suck his-?"

"Don't even say it, shitty princess !"

"Woah bakugou, you spoke to me on purpose!?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey, how come you call me princess, you like me or something?"

He growled at that, neither of us paying mind to the fact that everyone in the class was either dead from nosebleeds or extremely uncomfortable and staring at us.  

"Its cuz you act fucking entitled like a princess"

"I'll be your pillow princes-"

"Enough!" A robotic-like hand sliced the air in front of me. The voice sounded firm, almost more teacher-like than our teacher's voice. I followed my gaze up the hand, not failing to notice how as I drew up the guy's arm his muscles only seemed to get bigger and bigger and- iida? 

"Oh class rep-"

"Y/n this vulgar language and border-line harassment needs to cease immediately. I will not tolerante overtly sexual language and acts in this class-"

As he was speaking I noticed something ironic about the situation. If everyone here didn't like sexual jokes or banter, how were they so flustered at comments that objectively should be unknown to them. 

"How did you know what I meant, iida?" I rasped in a low sultry voice, allowing my fingers to dance up his arm starting at the wrist in front of my face. 

I heard a few chuckles from, who I would say are the only two people enjoying this situation: kaminari and...stinky mineta. Iida's face grew more red than previously and the arms in front of me began shaking. 

"Mr.Aizawa it seems I've disarmed the robot. Is there a restart button or something?" I question with a serious face using the search as an excuse to wonder my eyes all over his body. Perverted? Yes. Rightfully attracted to this giant hunk of a nerd. Yes ×10. 

"No, there is not." Todoroki, who was in front of me, finally turned around to address me. I guess he was unfazed by my words. Looks like someone here can be cool. Whether he is okay because he is more comfortable with sexual jokes, or because he has yet to pick up on them, its nice that somebody in here can still function. Otherwise, I'd feel like a nuisance. 

"Y/n I'm not really sure how to- let's just say to have detention with your m- midnight. Detention. Yeah." Aizawa publicly convinced himself of my punishment? 

"Okay"

"Now, back to this, even if you didn't get any offers ALL of you will have an internship" 

And so went on the class, kids chose their hero names, not me though. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a hero at all, this was just a little less boring and sad than the way I lived before. This school had people who laughed in joy, not just to mask the pain. That was the real benefit, not being a hero, or being strong. Likely no one here realized that there were many places where none of this joy was possible. 

Some of the kids in class gave me suggestions for a hero name, but I didn't like them anyway. They lacked personality, and while I have many adjectives to describe my personality, my life, none of them are all that heroic. 

"Dark element"

"Girl who will die if her quirk doesnt like its environment" 

See, I'm not the best at this. Even bakugan names had some sense to it...well no. I'd say we're about the same, but still. Ugh. 

~timeskip~ 

Bakugou pov 😠

She came up with no hero names. Fucking entitled brat. Everyone at this lunch table seems to have no problem with the fact that she is here, just happy to have another pair of tits to stare at like perverts. Their gross. I bet she doesn't even want to be a hero, she sure as hell doesn't act like it. We don't even know what her whole quirk is. Ive seen her do that plant shit a couple times, fucking with flowers or whatever. Still, there's more to it. Something we don't know, at least. Cuz in the middle of class she gets up and whispers to Aizawa and he just lets her go. Where the fuck does she go? 

Interrupts class, got into the school because her moms a teacher, won't use her quirk. What a nuisance, I can't believe she is not expelled yet. Plus those bullshit sex jokes are so shitty. She is obviously faking something when she does them. Not like midnight, who always at least seems like she means that gross shit. 

"Hey, who did you guys choose for your internship? I haven't chosen yet."

"The number three hero guy," I spoke, knowing I'm the only person here who already chose. 

"Really? Best jeanist! That's so cool, but are you sure that for you bakugou?" Shitty hair raised a shitty brow at me. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

"Just that he seems pretty...uptight..for you?" Dunceface added, but he spoke like it was a question. Of course he is the hero for me, he is the highest ranting hero on my list. If I wanna be number one, I gotta train with the best. 

If I go to his agency I'm sure there will be a lot more action, since he is so high ranking. Then i'll get some real experience kicking villain ass, well, other than the USJ. 

"Of course he is the right option!"

"Woahhh~"

Shit. It's her voice. I honestly should applaud her for using it less often around me but, how can one small girl be so goddamn annoying. I don't even know what she has to say and I already wish she would just put a sock in it. How can someone so entitled like her, probably never had to lift a finger, walk  over here and talk like she has something to say. 

"You're working with the best jeanist! So cool, one time he saved me from a group of rapist guys, it was awesome with all these strings everywhere and I could only see half of his face. Oh and he had goofy hair too!"

Oh. I didn't really know how to respond to the girl who looked so excited about almost being violated. Another thing wrong with her? I looked back at the other people at the table to see if they knew how to respond to something like that. 

Dunceface was frozen, tape arms were frozen, shitty hair was frozen, and alíen eyes were looking like a lost puppy and trying not to cry. 

It didnt seem like the shutty princess was exactly understanding how what she just yelled was making things weird. She just stood there expectantly. She kinda looked like she thought being raped was something that must happen to everyone. Did she think that? Wouldn't put it past her weird ass. 

"Uhm...anyways, i'm sure you'll do awesome, he likes to put boys in tight jeans. Wish I could intern too, I'd love to see that boom boom~" she winked. 

A perverted joke...and then she had the audacity to wink at me. 

"You wish you could see me in tight jeans, shitty extra!"

"I know...thats what a I just said." She dead panned, blinking a couple times at me. 

"Tch, screw you!"

"I would-" 

"Can it, i don't wanna hear your shitty voice anymore"

The girl stopped herself after my words, pushing all her hair behind her head, except for the two blond stands in the front. 

(You don't have to acknowledge these if you don't want, but I made it so that they change color depending on what element your using and I thought it was hot*if you have short hair, then you just got a lil nishinoya type thing 🥰)

Lifted her obnoxious hands that moved around while she talked and made a zipper-like motion over her lips. Then she just stood there looking at me. I really wanted to just let her stand there and go back to eating. Ignore her completely and let her hope fizzle out and die or something like that. 

Yet here I am, still looking at her. Silently. Wishing she made a stupid joke so that I could stop flickering between those images I'd seen of her dancing. How even though ballet is a princess fucking dance, the pictures felt nice. Like if I was watching it live I would probably be unable to criticize it. That pissed me off, because I want to hate everything about her, but I can't hate those photos. Where she looks like she is flying, without any need for a quirk.

I see her in that weird gown, and now, in the UA uniform. I see her looking respectable, formal, and serious. Then I see her stupid little smirk as she takes pride in being able to shut up for more than a minute. 

"Why are you still standing there?"

Instead of answering, she took her hand up again, made a pinch with her fingers and unzipped her mouth. 

"I was enjoying the look in your eyes."she smiled. 

The look in my eyes? Could she tell I was seeing two different people? What the hell does that even mean? Even said it without that shitty flirt voice. Like she meant it. 

"You tryna make fun of me?"I stood up from the table to get in her face.

"Not right now, maybe later, I gotta do something." She smiled sincerely at me, for a second as she walked away, I forgot about how this conversation started. What a wierd fucking girl. I'll never respect her as a hero. Tch. (Yes, its canon he tchs even in his thoughts) 

3rd person POV 

Y/n briskly walked out of the cafeteria with a new goal in mind. She would come to remember how maybe being oblivious was a benefit in some ways, but for now, she had a clear plan .

"Mr.Aizawa, let me do an internship."

"You weren't in the festival, I can't just hand you to a hero who has no idea what you can do, y/n."

"Well, you know what I can do, right?"

"No. I'm not doing internships. Stop asking."

"That's not what I meant! You can just tell them, or I could, it's not that hard to explain. Just say i'm all- powerful or some play on words like 'she's got all the right elements' hehe, see how i mimicked your voice there?" Y/n grinned like a child. She was proud of herself. 

"No. Still not happening."

"I wanna be an intern too, you raggedy ann looking ass hoe" 

"Y/n, it doesn't make sense, insulting me to get what you want?"

"Maybe it doesn't, but I bet you feel real insecure about your hair right now."

"You already have detention, what more do you want!"

"An internship, I wanna do one with kamui Woods, I have a good reason, too. As far as my quirk control, i'm the weakest with earth, the aspect that allows me to grow and manipulate plants and stuff. That's why I've only been using that part of it all month. Im trying to get her up to speed so I can start using all four at once. He is like a tres guy, right? He manipulates earth all day long. He could teach me a lot, and that aspect of my quirk would suit his well. Please!?!?!?"

If the girl had just asked again in a normal way, his answer would have been the same. However Aizawa was taken aback to hear how much thought she put into this. From the stories of the teachers lounge, he came to understand her big life goal, was to rely fully on a rich man or woman, and do nothing at all forever. Just to try and forget about the terrible life she was destined to have because of that quirk.

This side of her was something he could not even her mother had seen, and it prompted him to speak those words she wanted to hear so badly.

"Fine." 

[thattimdrakeguy]

I am very sorry for what you are going through, think that in adittion to that unpleasant people who attack you, there are also many more who enjoy, respect and follow your content, and want the best for you. I really like your reviews and opinions, and although I do not always agree with you, I respect and validate your opinion as much as anyone's because that is to be respectful with others and have common sense.--

--You should not take into account what people who are unable to respect another human being like them say, that they cannot even separate reality from fiction, all for a simple opinion different from theirs about a FICTIONAL CHARACTER, you cannot even take them seriously. If those people need to insult, despise and make someone feel less for a reason like that, it simply speaks of how miserable they are as humans on and off the internet.--

Please don't take into account what these people say, listen to those who appreciate you and show respect. I hope you feel better and I am sorry for what is happening in your life, but you can always forward with your will and the people around you.(Hugs)

I only read these ones this morning, or afternoon more accurately cause I have a very bad sleep schedule for weeks cause I been playing video games too late into the day, but I’m slowly working on it. I’m just really bad at it.

And all I can really say to accurately give my reaction to it, was that it was something I definitely needed to read first thing in the morning. If it wasn’t for those messages yesterday, and a friend helping me out I may not have even been calmed down enough to go to bed at all. I could’ve easily not gone to sleep literally at all and had been even worse today because of it to the point of having another meltdown of a day.

Like I don’t wanna make myself sound too good, because if I did, I’d feel like I was lying, because my mind feels like a bloody nose filled up with tissue paper, if that even makes a darling lick of comprehension.

I find it so entirely weird, and patronizing, and frustrating how the fandom can be, if not worse. Like I say something unpopular, I do it a lot, probably with literally every freaking character. Even Tim, because I know that quite a few Tim fans don’t like me either.

I don’t read every comic and go “Oh this must just be how it works”, because that’s not how my brain is wired. I’m Autistic, I go in-depth, I do a lot of research, that is how I am wired when I get a hyperfixation, I want to know everything. So I say a lot of unpopular stuff because I don’t just accept things, because I don’t work that way.

But it goes like this when it comes to people just being miserable, they have to make me out to either be a bigot or bias, they either don’t even read what I say, or just don’t acknowledge what I say.

My biggest point they will leave out completely to focus on other things that are either completely irrelevant and just there to make me look bad even though it doesn’t really make sense what it has to do anything once you think about it a lick more, or just make me look straight up like a crappy person.

I got really ranty and rambly after this, and I try not to take up people’s dashboards as much. So I’ll put this here. If it’ll work, cause one time I don’t think it did, and it made me panic once cause I felt really bad. But it just would not show up.

Because trying to make a bad face out of a real life living person isn’t that bad, compared to the horrors of having to acknowledge the arcs and actions that their favorite character been through evidentially.

Sorry to say and everything, but I don’t see how on Earth Tim cheating on Ariana has anything to do with a literal whole other arc of Steph being abusive and doing really horrible things, or all those “teases” that were actually flirts that were making Tim genuinely uncomfortable to the point of sexual harassment, and told her not to do, which she didn’t actually always listen to sometimes, surprisingly to some. I also don’t see why it’s so hard to comprehend that Tim kissing Steph just because he got ahead of himself because he was euphoric he was about to die, yet it was made clear he didn’t do sexually or romantically, isn’t as bad (comparatively because it’s still insanely inappropriate and weird, but I wouldn’t call him a pervert over it) to me as Steph literally pinning Tim down during a gun fight to kiss him against his will, or taking advantage of Tim believing she was dead and giving her CPR to do it again. Like I don’t really see why saying “Just read the comics” has to do with anything, because I don’t have the art skills to just make all those panels up like that. Which by the way, I don’t give a single fuck about what bad thing Steph has done. I don’t like her because a lot of her stories are badly written, and a lot of her fans are straight up assholes. Which they conveniently ignore, because I must be villainized, because they can’t handle me acknowledging something that isn’t their idealized image. But let me also state that there are assholes in literally every fandom, I just have certain ones that decide to be assholes to me. And I don’t remember the part where I said teasing was bullying either. I can’t find that on my list of thoughts in my brain. Almost like they don’t actually know how I think or what I meant. 

And I don’t know why on Earth Tim not trusting Damian to the point of being kind of scummy has much to do with Damian doing horrid things in comics they like as well. They’re their own separate people ya know? I’m not comparing characters, because I’m not actually trying to shit on the characters you should realize. Not every negative thing is formed out of toxicity. Toxic positivity where people act like not just enjoying everything is so bad is actually a thing. And I see it quite often in fandoms, and it comes from a good place, but my goodness, just let people express themselves sometimes. It’s not going to hurt anybody as long as they’re not actually an asshole or you just have a fragile ego.

It seems pretty irrelevant to me. Implying that I hate the characters because of these actions is also pretty dumb to me as well, because that’s not the case nor how it works. They keep acting like me not acknowledging the bad thing Tim does in the same posts is some showing of my bias, but no, I just view it as fucking irrelevant, because I do bring up when Tim does something bad when ever it is relevant. It is that simple. I think the only time I’ve ever even could truly come across as trying to baby and defend Tim was me saying Tim cheating on Ari with Steph was out of character, which I still hold that opinion too, but I don’t simply make shit up, I just notice how rushed it was, and how it goes against how Tim is about morals, Steph, and his literal stance on cheating. Stuff that you would actually judge what’s in or out of character on.

I just give everything the same standard. I’ve never denied Tim wasn’t passive aggressive or conscending to anyone, or has violated privacy, or was immature. If I had it was probably me caught up in the moment, and pretty weird, because I’ve actively talked about it before.

And I’m referencing stuff in the past with these oddly specific examples, that hasn’t bugged me truly in a while, but when I find a new example of stuff, I can’t help but have it come back to mind and make me question how people got to just be shivery little jerks over things like made-up characters.

I’ve acknowledged the fact that my blog was too anti-Steph plenty of times, even as it was happening, because it was mostly through anons and not me. Some of which I defended Steph on. I just had too much anxiety not responding to them, because I’d feel a sense of guilt for ignoring someone. Which I’m over and past.

I’m not going to be held down by stuff I already corrected about myself.

It’s been so heavily implied to me before, that groups just talk mad shit about me, and made up this horrendous little reputation for me among themselves, and it is so disheartening, considering I’m just this baby faced geek that read too many comics, simply explaining stuff that had happened in actual comics without actual bias. I don’t run DC Comics. I’m just a blogger that they really really don’t like, and take it as a personal attack of some kind, at least going off of how they act.

Maybe it’s what I get for expecting people to treat fiction as fiction and not a big freaking deal when I say something or don’t say something, because they’d understand the context I’m trying to explain literal events in comics as they are, and other things that happened in other situations have no relevance to what I’m saying, because I’m not making a bashing piece like they seem to think.

I know I take fiction very seriously, because I just really want good content again. But I don’t make real life people’s lives miserable. Do ya think I talk shit about Bendis all the time? Not really. I’ve genuinely probably sang his praises more than otherwise. I think Tynion’s the closest example of when I could’ve, but that was years ago at this point. I’ve made it so much more clearer it’s about the comics than them, because simply I’ve realized how scummy it is to mock an actual person, who’s probably actually a really cool guy to know. Do I fuck that up sometimes, probably. But I’m definitely not telling him to kill himself.

If they can’t acknowledge what I actually say, and continue to just try to make me look bad. I don’t personally view myself as the bad one. That’d be utterly redundant.

It always boils down to that I just acknowledge stuff they refuse to, and they just play ignorant about, and pretend they just can’t possibly understand why anyone would say it. I didn’t pull the stuff out of my ass, I have the panels. I didn’t skip anything out. At most I just don’t find the excuses they have to be freaking relevant or over power the action at hand or sometimes the literal motivation she/he had going into it.

And it’s 100% okay, but even though this is a space on the internet, and I’m practically a loser shut in. I still live in the real world and when I’m not having a bad anxiety attack or whatever else, I try to be as reasonable as possible.

I just look at it, look at the context and past contexts, look at the motivations, judge it for what I see, and move on. And never consider it a big deal until someone else makes a big deal about it.

I don’t even view every person that does it against me to be a bad person, some of them most definitely are because they go too far with it, but some of them literally have no idea proper context anymore, or they’re just very very insecure.

It’s very difficult to outright go ‘THEY’RE ALL EVIL’, but when there’s so many that are just putrid humans that want me to take my own life, it’s a wee bit overwhelming, and understandably so, yeah?

People sometimes just don’t properly process what they’re doing, because they’re so caught up in their insecurity, or possibly even a mild ego, but there’s others that will do it because they’re so quick to anger and hatred over fucking nothing.

Welcome to reality. It’s a lot like taking a train ride through a diseased rectum sometimes. But other times it’s like taking a trolley though a nice field. It’s a mixed bag, but it’s a ride that never stops but once.

An important thing I do wanna say though, is that I have everyone who supports me in my heart. I may lose my sight of that when I’m going through an episode I’m having a heckuva lot of trouble controlling, but I’d be in a much worse spot without them. Some of them are so dang respectful, and some are just so legitimately sweet and kind that it’s a blessing to have ever had an interaction of any kind or level with them.

I don’t take any of you for granted even if sometimes I seem ignorant of it during a terrible depressive episode.

You often don’t agree with me and can make it very clear, but it’s the respect you give me nonetheless that I take as precious, because it’s some of the best stuff to receive when all else seems so bleak and lifeless. It’s not an honor everyone sadly receives, so I treasure that a lot. And when I’m feeling so down and out, it sometimes can be the one thing that keeps me even near level, and that’s such an honor that even if it’s such a small amount, because obviously it’s a Tumblr blog I’m always aware of that, it just does mean a lot to me, because it genuinely is an honor to me.

I love you guys a lot. I hope that’s always obvious even when I’m making a mess out of myself. You guys are some of my favorite people on this planet.

[jadedlavendergemini]

As Promised

Summary: If you were to ask Emma Moore how out of control her life became just before the apocalypse, she would have told you how she had never seen it coming. How she fell for someone that she should have avoided at all cost and how she had no control of any of it in anyway possible. Of course she had no clue of her own ‘destiny’. Michael Langdon x OC

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I just started back at my second job and things have been crazy. I want to thank everyone for the positive feedback. I’m so happy so many of you enjoy my writing. If anyone would liked to be tagged in the next update, just let me know! Also I am STILL posting from my phone’

Tag list: @7-wonders @fallenangeldreamer @plymptxn @fckinsupreme

Part one here!!

——————————————————————————

Emma wasn’t always stuck in her dorm. Occasionally she did attend lessons in the classroom with the other students. She did get along fairly well with most of the students. Sometimes she was annoyed at how she was treated by other students but there were a few she liked to call friends.

Most of the time the other students were afraid of her father. John Henry tried not to show favoritism, but not that he needed to. Emma was treated as fair as his other students. He was thankful Behold felt the same way. He felt proud of her progress since her powers first showed. The two agreed that she would better off residing in Hawthorne than Robichauxs. To them, Cordelia was just dangerous. She attracted danger like a magnet.

Three times Cordelia tried to reach out to him in regards to his daughter. She insisted that Emma would excel and grow with her fellow witches. And every time he would tell her no. He wanted her close by at all times. The fear of losing her to some freak accident caused by Cordelia or any of her girls haunted his thoughts often.

She never put up an argument about Robichauxs, she was comfortable where she was. She was a good kid, Behold always told him. She had her fair share of anxiety so naturally giving her her own space was good.

Ariel and Baldwin detested the idea of her attending the school. They argued with John Henry for at least three hours before giving in and laying down the rules. At this time Behold had his back and agreed to help teach the young witch. And she proved herself almost immediately to the instructors. In no time she was already considered at level three.

She was currently sitting in the class room with a few students listening to one of Behold’s lectures. She had paid attention for the first half but towards the end, she felt a strange, low vibration in her skull. Her head aches as she presses her finger tips to her temples.

“You good?” She looked to her left. Edward, another one of the nicer students asks.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, just a headache.”

He just nods and returns his attention back to their instructor, but she cannot focus. All she can do is close her eyes and wait for it to stop.

By the time the lesson was over, Emma noticed that the constant buzzing in the back of her head had stopped. She followed the rest of the class out of the room and into the halls toward the private wing of the school.

She was caught off guard when a strong force knocked the two books out of her arms. When she stopped and looked up, she was met with the faces of three male students who stood to the side of the hallway.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Emma.” Thomas Albershaugh said. Thomas Albershaugh was one of the few students that gave the young witch a hard time. His friends Erik and Justin did just about the same.

Erik used his foot to push off the wall where he had been leaning and approached her. “Let me get that for you.”

Emma glared as he reaches down, picked up both books and place them back in her waiting hands. Before she could turn to walk away and not bother to make a smart comment, once again the books went flying out of her hands by an unseen force. Most likely made by Justin or Thomas.

“Oops.” Justin laughed as Erik stepped around Emma. By this point many of the other students had stopped to watch.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Very mature, assholes.”

“Why don’t you bend over and pick them up for us?” Thomas laughed. “Give us a show.”

The witch now self consciously gripped the ends of her black dress Skirt to make sure it was pulled down. Hesitate steps were taken to where the books had landed right in front of the morons themselves. She slowly bent her knees and with her right arm, she extends it to grab them, while the other hand is holding onto the skirt to prevent any kind of ‘show’ she was teased about.

Just as her hand gripped one of the books, another unseen force knocked her down completely. Luckily for Emma, her skirt kept down, but The boys laughed and she swore she heard other student whistle.

And in that moment, she felt pure rage. Nothing like what she had felt before. Before, she would just walk back to dorm and cry with frustration, but today that was not the case. She remained sitting on the floor and glared at the three boys. Her heart raced and hands formed into fists. Before she could intentionally hex them, Thomas went flying back into the wall, his head made contact with the wall with a loud thud. Erik’s head flew back as if he had been punched directly in the nose and Jared was thrown face down onto the cement floor.

Just like that, all the laughter and whistling stopped. The students became silent, some whispering as they stared at the three boys and the witch. It took Emma a good minute to realize what had just happened. Her eyes stayed glued to Thomas in shock as he lay there, not moving. She was in such shock, she didn’t even hear Behold’s voice

Behold had just entered the hall from the class room to see what noises he was hearing from the students. He slowly pushed his way through the students to see Three students, the troublemakers he knew they were, laying on the ground. He followed the other student’s stares to Emma who was currently sitting opposite of the boys, avoiding eye contact with the instructor.

“Alright, what’s going on?” John Henry made his way out next. He immediately stopped when he saw everyone, including Emma.

As he made his way quickly to his daughter, one of the students answered. “Emma kicked their asses!” More students chimed in. “She didn’t even touch them!”

“Out of the hallway now! Get back to your dorms, shows over.” Behold directed the students out and began checking on the three boys who were luckily still alive. His eyes moved to Emma who finally looked away from them but remained seated. “What in the hell happened?”

Erik sat up, blood coating his hands as he held his nose. “She’s a fucking Psycho that’s what happened!”

“You started it, asshole!” She shot back, her fathers hand grasped her shoulder.

John Henry rolled his eyes. “Alright, well we’re ending it right now.” He helped pull her to her feet. “You, young lady are to go and clean yourself up and go back to your room. We’ll discuss this later.”

Emma followed her fathers words and left as Behold and her father tried to get the other three students taken care of. She replayed the event in her head over and over trying to understand how she did it. She didn’t even recall uttering a word to pull that off.

As she finally made it to her dorm, she tried to find a simple explanation to what it could have been. And what was she going to tell her father? She had no idea.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way to her bathroom. She needed to shower, might help her relax after her embarrassing throw down. She let the water warm up in the shower as she stripped off her uniform. Only looking up at the mirror once does she realize what she looks like right now.

Dried blood that stuck to her right nostril, perhaps from all that energy she released on those boys? Great, now she does look like a psycho that Erik had claimed her to be.

‘What the actual fuck?’ She thought to herself, taking a cloth nearby, wetting it with the tap and using it to clean the blood.

——————————————————————————

Not too long after her shower, Emma was changed into her night clothes. She had already dried her dirty blonde waves and was currently resting on her bed with her spell book in hand. She was trying to distract herself from the fact her father was going to demand what or how she pulled off what had happened earlier.

The sound of her door opening held her attention, closing her book and placing it gently on the night stand. Her father made his way into the room and took a seat opposite from her at the desk. Facing him, she noticed how stressed he seemed to look. She must have pissed off Ariel.

Looking at his daughter, John was the first to speak.“I just finished speaking with Ariel and Baldwin. Ariel is beyond furious to know that a witch, whom he allows to study here, attacked three of his level 2 warlocks.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s not like they’re dead-“

“That’s not the point, Emma. Two boys have broken noses and Thomas has a concussion and a possible skull fracture. I don’t know which spell you used, but you have caused them some serious harm. Ariel and Behold are going to have to deal with the parents.” He sounded almost frightened himself. “I need to know, from you, what happened?

The girl nodded, looking down to her feet dangling off the bed. “I was leaving class and they were picking on me. Well, it was more like sexual harassment and usually I can ignore them but they knocked the books out of my hands and then me.” Her voice started to crack. “I was just so angry, I guess. I was trying to think of something to do and then it just happened. I don’t know what I did.”

John nodded. “Well, like I said Ariel wasn’t very happy but I was able to talk him down. He wanted to have you expelled but I opted something else. Probation.” Emma looked confused. “Dorm lessons only. No classes, no library. You’ll either eat your meals in my office or in here.”

“But, for how long?” She asked.

He stood from the chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Until Ariel says it’s over. Emma, I am sticking up for you as best as I can. But you have got to meet me half way here, okay? This attacking other students stuff? Never again.”

“It won’t.” She promised.

John nodded. “Alright we’ll, get some rest. Behold will be in first thing for your lessons tomorrow.”

And with that he was gone. Emma Laos back onto the bed and sighed. It was going to be a long probation.

——————————————————————————

For the rest of the week Emma was adjusting to her new schedule. Wake up and change, classes held in her dorm with either Behold or her father, eat lunch in her dorm, study in her dorm, and eat dinner... in her dorm. She was beginning to feel lonely. She wanted just to visit the library, but received the same answer every time. She was sick of the same books she was given by her father.

It was around 10 O’clock on a Friday when Emma had given up on following those rules. All instructors had turned in for the night and students as well so there was no way she’d be caught. She wrapped herself in a thick cardigan and made her way quietly out of her dorm. She was sure to keep an eye out as she tip toed her way through the secluded hallways of Hawthorne.

Once she made it to the poorly lit room, she made herself at home. Grabbing the first book she found on hexes. She wanted to know exactly what had happened to those boys and what she did exactly to cause it. She sat curled up on the plush cushions of the couch and read through multiple chapters. She was so focused, she let her guard down and didn’t even notice the other presence enter the room.

“Do you always hang out in the library this late?” She jumped and turned around in shock, but relaxed once she saw that it was Michael.

She carefully raised a finger to her lips with a smile. “Not really, but I didn’t really have a choice.”

Michael made his way into the library, he still wore his uniform but without the jacket, tie abandoned and sleeves rolled up. He took a seat next to her on the couch. “Haven’t seen you in a while. The word in class is that you got expelled.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Almost. I’m on ‘probation’. Which means that I’m basically stuck in my room.”

“So you snuck out,” he smiled, adding on. “Look at you.”

She looked away, trying to hide her blush. But Michael has already seen it. “So, how bad is the gossip?”

Michael shrugged, leaning back more into the cushions. “That you kicked that kid’s ass. Sorry I missed it, heard it was ‘messy’.”

“I didn’t do ‘anything’.” She confessed. “At least I don’t think I did. I honestly can’t figure it out.”

“Well did they upset you, right? Maybe it was just your emotions lashing out? That’s what I did when I-“ he stopped.

“When you what?” She asked, closing her book softly.

“When Ariel found me, I was in jail. I was protecting someone I care about and well, I accidentally killed him. They arrested me and the cop wanted me to confess so he started to beat me and again, I lashed out. I didn’t even know I could do that. The point is I think our emotions play a big role in what we can do. That and that Thomas kid seemed like an ass.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It grew quiet between the two. While Emma thought more about what he had told her, Michael took this time to observe her. She looked different in her comfortable pajamas than in her Hawthorne uniform, not that he mind. The fire from the fireplace illuminated the skin of her bare legs and her cardigan slightly open, showing a her thin camisole top. Her long hair curled and shaped her face and laid past her shoulders.

He flicked his eyes back to her face only to find hers on him. She slowly wrapped the cardigan around her a little tighter and sighed. It only just occurred to her that not only had she broke one of the rules for her probation, she broke her father’s rule about Michael. Not wanting to get caught with both, she began to sit up and pick up her book.

“It’s getting late and I don’t want to get caught. I better head back,” she said standing up, book held tightly to her chest.

Michael stood immediately. “Can I walk you to your dorm?”

While Emma should have felt uncomfortable, she didn’t. Instead she felt almost flattered. She nodded and led the way. Michael smiled and followed, hands clasped behind his back.

“So, how do you like the school?” She asked, wanting to end the silence.

“It’s good, everyone is very nice. Although, I swear your father hates me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “He’s just hard on everyone and very protective of the school.”

“And you,” he added.

She nodded. “Of course.”

“What about your mother?”

Emma didn’t speak and her small smile was gone. “Uh, she died when I was two. So I don’t really remember her. So it’s just my dad and me.”

Michael could feel her emotions remain the same. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He added quickly. “My mom tried to kill me when I was younger.”

The witch’s brow furrowed and stopped to look at him. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Michael only offered a small smile and shook his head. “It’s alright, she just didn’t understand who I was. But I have a foster mom, of sorts. She’s great and takes good care of me that I don’t even think about my mom.”

“Oh, well that’s good, I suppose.” She replied, beginning to walk again. Emma’s thoughts raced as she thought about what he had said. A mother attempting to kill her own child, the poor boy probably went through a lot.

They finally came to the private wing of Hawthorne and stopped. “There’s a spell on this wing so other students can’t enter so,” Emma balances on her toes. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“I really enjoy your company,” he said. “Do you think you can sneak out again sometime soon?”

“Michael I-“ she sighs. “I probably shouldn’t. I don’t want to get in trouble. Ariel already hates me and I don’t want to get expelled.” She watched his lips fall from that beautiful smile of his. And suddenly she didn’t care. It seems that she had finally made a friend, a friend she wanted to get to know more. “You know what, sure. Can we meet in the library again tomorrow night?”

“Sounds good. 10 o’clock?”

She smiles. “10 o’clock. Good Night, Michael.”

He watches as she makes her way to her door at the end of the hall and disappear. He quietly observed the corridor itself. A spell to keep students out, really? He cautiously stepped over the threshold of the hallway, waiting for something to shove him away, but nothing happens. Placing his hands behind his back once more, he quietly makes his way to her door. He can practically feel her emotions blossom into happiness. And it’s something he wants to her to feel all the time, he wants to be the one to bring out that smile of hers.

He felt pride for what she did to Thomas and his friends. Well, what he did. The second he heard those words from the boy’s mouth he wanted to snap their necks right there. But he knew he needed to keep low. So he did what anyone would do for their soulmate, he gave her energy. The warlocks believed Emma’s actions to be from her emotions, not Michael’s magic. She didn’t know it, but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.

As for her father, he may need to be a little careful around. He knew John Henry was already suspicious. Nothing he or Miss Meade couldn’t handle.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Five! I jumped on to edit tags, so have it half an hour earlier than it was queued for. If you’d like to be tagged, please send an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Unrequited feelings. Sexual awareness. Guilt. The usual, at this point. We’re about to pick up!

Word Count: Roughly 2,800

“Papa Ackles!” You were hugged by the older man, tightly when you opened the door. The name had been adopted by you teasingly and had somehow stuck for the one and only Roger Alan Ackles. He liked to kid that his son was the prettier of the two, but the family resemblance hadn't been spared. Namely in that smile. Then there was the crinkles by his eyes. His genes were every bit as present as his wife's. “I didn't know you were coming over. Is Donna here, too?”

“Nah, she's busy checking in on Mackenzie.” A wink sent your way made you chuckle. You could only imagine the drilling the younger sister was busy getting from the sweet, mother hen. “Is my boy busy, or can I bug him for a bit?”

“He's in the pool with the kids.” Your thumb pointed towards the back, as you opened the door further to allow him inside.

“And why aren't you out having fun, too? Too old?” To the patriarchal figure, you weren't a housekeeper and nanny mix. You were part of the family and that was that. And, it was his and his wife's duty to look over the herd. Which meant you weren't spared from the loving questionnaires. “My son overworks you.” He knew it wasn't true. Was just trying to get a reaction. You simply tsked, not taking the bait as you got back to work. “What're ya working on today, missy?”

“I'm only thirty. Who're you calling old, Pops?” You teased, lifting up the laundry basket you'd set out. You'd gained the response you wanted. That tossed back, full bodied laugh his son had inherited. If it ever came to you leaving? You'd miss that over exuberant old man.  “And this?” The laundry basket was kicked forward a bit for emphasis, “This is the last thing I've got queued up. Now, go harass your son. He'll love it.”

A pat to your shoulder and an affectionate kiss on the cheek left you alone as he moved down to the pool room. You knew the moment the kids had spotted him. The echoing 'papa's sounding loudly up the stairs.

You moved down to the old cellar to pick up the discarded clothes from the kids. Or so you told yourself. It had nothing to do with the desire to be one of them. Nothing at all.

There wasn't even ten minutes of peace that passed before another, younger, Ackles invaded your alone time. A still damp Jensen walked in, rubbing his hair with the towel. Shirtless and completely at home in his skin when away from the camera, he padded over to the wine cellar. Searching out his favorite stash. You wanted to believe that you were strong enough to not lift your gaze away from the cleaning repeatedly. But, you weren't.

The sinewy muscles across his arms and back were outlined as he moved. He could be a little shy about the less than chiseled belly, but he had no reason. Mouthwatering still accurately described the being in front of you. Small drops of water trailed down as he grabbed two beers from the mini fridge he'd installed some time back. His swimsuit was dry enough to not drip, but damp enough to cling to the curve of his ass.

Every fan girl's wet dream was less than a foot away. And you couldn't touch. Shouldn't have even looked.

As he turned back around, you forced yourself to stare down at your hands. Not letting the lust you were sure was obvious anywhere near his eyes. “You're not gonna visit?”

There. That I can handle. With a shaky breath, you yanked your mind off him. Back to reality, instead.

“No,” You answered easily, folding the little dinosaur shirt that Zeppelin had almost destroyed neatly. “I already said hi.”

A low hum was all you got for a moment. Leaving you to believe that was the end of the discussion. But, he hadn't walked away.

“Are you alright?” The troubled question took you by surprise well enough that your head lifted. That was a mistake in itself. It left you to stare temptation down. “You've been...different.”

“I...” Clearing your throat didn't get the lump out of it when that bearded, overly attractive bastard's unreal pine gaze seemed to bore into your very soul. “I'm...I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.” That finally gave you the strength to jerk the pile of clothes upwards as he set down the beverages. Before you could make it out of there, a hand gripped around your arm. You froze at the firm touch. “Y/N...what's going on?”

His hand was ice cold from the both drinks and pool. You shouldn't have felt so warm. Yet, the contact made your blood pump faster. Looking down, his fingers weren't tight enough to leave marks. Simply catch your attention. And, boy, did it.

Breathlessly, you finally found your voice, “Let me go, please.” You were dropped as if he'd been burned. You knew the feeling well. The flesh he'd touched felt as if he'd branded you. “I said I'm fine.”

“Did...Did I do something?” He was trying to understand the distance that had sprung up over the past few weeks. His tongue wet his lips as he stared you down. Only making it harder to focus.

Even with the kids, you seemed to have taken a step back. They assumed you weren't feeling good. He was just clueless. As often as you were there, and as much as he knew, there was still a whole lot of empty resting between you two. It could have been anything.

“No.” That didn't help him piece it together, any. He wanted to know. Needed to. “Look, I'm okay. I just...I need to finish this up.”

Your eyes continued to evade him. Seeking a way out. As if he'd held you trapped in his home. Immediately, he wondered if that were the case. You hadn't said anything. But you wouldn't. He knew that beyond doubt.

“Look, the kids and Pops were hoping you'd join us back there.” He pointed towards the door. Hoping that the old man could see past your guard. Get you to open up.  “You can take a beer. Wind down a bit. Socialize with someone other than us.”

Arguing the point was useless, then. Unless you wanted to look like an ass, anyway. Jensen, bless his heart, was truly unaware of what was plaguing you. Even if half the world seemed to see right through the wall.

His obliviousness was both endearing and maddening. The loyalty to his late wife so sweet that it ached. Blindness to you? Scalding. Even though it never should have mattered.

“Okay,” Your shoulders wilted as you said it, making him frown further. Settling on the defeat. So confident that he'd solved the riddle.“Give me a minute and I'll be out there.”

“About time!” Roger boomed, drawing eyes your way.

You'd taken your time about it. An extra few minutes to clear your head. Long enough that everyone acted as if you'd been gone for weeks rather than had a few extra moments to yourself. Kids chattering all about; beyond excited that one of their favorite humans had finally decided to join them.

“Yeah, but I brought food.” The tray you carried held chicken salad sandwiches, some fruit, and some more drinks. It gave you the out you'd needed. “It's excused.”

“You keep this one around,” Papa Ackles hummed happily as you set the tray down in the middle of the large picnic table that rested on the perfectly manicured lawn. Rubbing his hands dramatically as he dug in.

The kids joined in, but Jensen waited. His eyes latched on you as you sat across from him. Careful not to bump your legs with his bowed ones. As if a single touch were more than you could stand.

You tried to ignore him. Focusing on the munchkins that were determined to make up for lost time. Talking with mouths full. Spraying water from their bodies everywhere as they fought for their feast. Not the food. But, your attention.

Texan sun beat down on your back. Hot and heavy in only the way the south could accomplish during the summer. Scalding through the clothes. You slipped the flannel you'd been wearing down over your arms as you managed a slightly average conversation with the older gentleman over the desperately goofy children.

The sun kissed skin wasn't anything that Jensen hadn't seen before. Yet, he found himself gazing over it as you patted down his curly coated dog. Imagining himself burying his face against the place where your neck met your shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the pulse point that would be racing. It was so vivid that he couldn't quite shake it away.

What the fuck? He came to his senses as you tossed the shirt over to the chair at the end of the table that had his clothes. However, it was soon lost when he focused on the pile. All he could picture was the bare skin meeting just as fabric had under the sun. Maybe Cliff is right...maybe I do need to get laid.

His body couldn't agree more as it awakened for the first time while he wasn't buried in his subconscious. The cold water that still clung to him doing nothing to slow his blood. A mistake in the making.

His mind tried to rationalize it away. You were too young. A young thirty just that year. There was the fact he was technically your employer. You'd been his wife's friend, for fuck's sake. A million reasons why it would never work. Yet, the longer he sat there, the more he found himself studying you.

There was the curve of your neck that came into his line of vision when you turned to address Zeppelin on one side, or Arrow on the other. The way the top of your breasts peaked out of the tank top as you leaned over to pour some homemade lemonade for J.J. How soft your legs were against his when Oscar knocked under the table.

“Jensen,” His name was said in confusion. Not the feminine, lust hazed moan he'd imagined. Slowly, he blinked away every piece of carnal sin that lined his deprived brain to stare at his future face. Roger didn't hesitate to investigate. “You okay?”

“I'm good,” The crack of his all too high voice said otherwise, but you didn't call him on it. Instead, you simply frowned a bit before excusing yourself. Making him feel ever the heel.

–

“Night, love.” You whispered back to Zeppelin as you shut his door. Sighing in relief. Everyone's worried gazes were getting to you. As if you were going to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience.

Sneaking out the back, you practically ran to your escape. Only to be caught by a looming shadow. There wasn't time to scream before the fuzzy beast beside him made it clear who it was.

“Can we talk? Without the kids, around?”

“About what?” You wheezed, holding your hand over your heart. Still trying to recover from the shock. There wasn't an option given. Instead, you were dragged to your home by your wrist. “What the hell is up with you?”

As soon as your door shut and light flicked on, he got down to business, “I could ask you the same thing.” Oscar danced around your living room. Sniffing the aquarium housing the clawed frog as he ignored two of his favorite people. “What's going on, Y/N?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged out. Refusing to make eye contact.

“Right...Okay, let's approach this differently.” That made the E/C sweep back his way. Distrust lining them. “My name's Jensen...not Mr. Ackles.” The commanding tone went straight to your ovaries as he stepped closer. Looming over you as he made his point.

“Really? Because right now? All I see is Dean Winchester.” The sass fell short as you caught your breath. Swallowing tightly, you got to the point. Hoping it would give you some space. “You want the truth?” A simple, stern nod was your only response. “You were right.”

“On what, exactly?”

“You're all about to switch up your lives completely, Jay.” Heavy defeat seemed to line your face as you backed away. Plopping on the couch in clear exhaustion. The poodle mix waddled your way. Reaching up to sniff your cheeks while his owner stared in utter confusion. “You're going to have all the time in the world....and...You guys aren't going to want me around, forever.” Your fingers pulled out a small knot in the coat you'd brushed just that moment. “It just seemed easier to back off, now, than to just walk away later.”

“Huh...” As he processed what you said, he turned away. Looking back around the room. Taking in all the pieces of you for the second time. “You really think those kids,” His fingers pointed to a selfie they'd taken with you, “are just going to let you walk away because I'm home more?”

“They have you,” Was shrugged out. As if it were really that simple.

“Yeah...but they want you, too.” Your head bowed at that. You'd known they had. But, that didn't mean it had to last forever. “I didn't mean to make you think that the ending changed...this.”

“It does, though.” The words were soft, but sad. Tearing through the air like a bullet as you focused in on the dog. “I'm a nanny...that's it. The second you're done? My job isn't as important. You can take on the brunt of it, and still be fine.”

“If you were just a nanny? I wouldn't be here right now.” Slowly, your gaze lifted. “Hell, Y/N...even if you decided to leave on your own? That door'd always be open for a visit. You've gotta know that.” Something in your eyes said you hadn't quite believed him. “Not everyone is just going to boot you out and never look back.”

“It doesn't feel that way.” The vulnerability on your face was unexpected. Jensen didn't bother to hesitate. Plopping down beside you. His arm flung around your back. Tugging you into a friendly hug. “What're you doing?”

“Trying to get past those feelings,” He huffed out. Resting his chin on the top of your head. “Besides...pretty sure my dad loves you more than me.” The small laugh against him made his lips kick up. “If I tried it? He'd off me.”

“You're probably right,” A gentle sigh left your lips as you held on tightly for a moment. But, then, you pulled back. “Thanks...I needed that.”

“Anytime, Y/N...” A short whistle followed. Immediately, the doodle turned tail. Diving to his owner's command. “And...I was thinking.” His hand stilled the squirming beast as he moved to open the door. “Maybe you'd wanna help me take the kids out. Laser tag, family night?”

“Count me in.”

–

“We're all ready,” Your hands pressed on your hips as you looked over the packed up SUV. Filming was about to begin. And with it? Would be the announcement. Things were speeding up and no one quite knew what to do with it all.

It had taken over a week to get everything ready. The kids had stayed with Danneel's family while you and Jensen worked on packing up for them and the dogs. You stocked up for the house sitter while Jensen finished rounding up the heathens. And then? It was time. You were all due to meet Jared at the airport.

“It's kinda bittersweet,” Jensen stepped up beside you as the kids fastened their seat belts. Awaiting their annual trip to Canada. The dogs wagged their tails eagerly from inside. Crowding in a fashion that screamed all American family.

“Focus on the sweet,” Your fingers squeezed his arm. An action that was nothing more than a way to express empathy before your name was cried out from inside. “And, that's my cue. You got the last bag?”

“Yeah, I got it,” A crooked smile made his stomach twist. A problem that hadn't ebbed since the day at the pool. As you climbed in, he focused a little too long on the way your shorts rode up when you bent over to help Arrow buckle up. Jensen shook his head before lifting the final bag. “You're losing your damn mind, Jay...”

“Sure as shit,” Cliff barked beside him. Making him jerk in surprise. “But, what's new?”

A glance your way seemed to catch the security guard's attention, “We'll talk later.”

Part Six

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​ @briagallen​ @agusdoti​ @my-proof-is-you @thevelvetseries @blacktithe7 @sucker-for-dean @deanwinchestersmydaddy @sociopathtime @deans-baby-momma @aomi-nabi @brandinicole911 @demonqueen47 @c-ly-g @bakabozza​ @socalgem1124​ @hillface89​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @woodworthti666

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​ @lilulo-12​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @michaelneedssomemilk​ @lemondropirwin​ @fanfictionismydeath​

[captainmarvels]

wicked games [23]

Summary: Tom's past has finally caught up to him; but will it be the be-all and end-all of his life?

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland x fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment (just the words, but still warning in case)

Word Count: 2734

A/N: today is Dec. 10th which means it’s been 2 whole years since I first started writing wicked games! I want to say thank you so so so so much for reading, enjoying, and loving this story as much as I love writing it - all the excitement and love some of you have given me, chapter after chapter, has made me stick around for the long run! xx caro

masterlist | tag list - add yourself!

You know that sinking feeling - the one that roots itself in the pit of your stomach like a tree, immovable? The feeling that drowns every nerve ending in your body in anxiety? Worry? Fear?

That was all Tom could feel as goosebumps spread along his arms, a cold sheen of sweat appearing across his forehead.

“Toyko? For a whole year?” His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his skull from the building stress.

Dom nodded, a smug grin replacing the eerie smile he donned before.

“You and Harrison used to go on and on about the Asian market this, the Asian market that, and I figured that the fifth year anniversary of your company was as good a time as any to start up a new headquarters abroad,”

“How can you expect me to just up and leave for an entire year?” Tom asked, no longer hiding the shock on his face.

Dom shrugged. “Easy. You just do it, Thomas. You’re the CEO, for God’s sake! How can you expect to run a company of this magnitude well if all you do is sit on your lazy arse!”

Tom rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as Dom continued.

“I’m handing you the chance to expand and grow your company in a new direction, on a silver fuckin’ platter, and all you do is complain. I don’t understand how children can be so ungrateful,”

“I’m not a fucking kid, I am an adult, who is fully capable of making decisions for my company-”

“Is that so, Tom? Are you fully capable of handling the blow back from the media, your partners, the entire fucking world if they knew what you’ve done behind closed doors? Don’t think I’m ignorant enough to not know when my own blood is a drunken coke addict.”

The deafening silence seemed to swallow Dom’s words, yet they still rang clear as day in Tom’s ears.

Taking a deep breath, Dom set down another folder on Tom’s desk, and headed straight for the door before stopping, his hand gripping the handle tightly.

“Your flight leaves the 4th, at 11am. Don’t be late.”

“I’m gonna need you to repeat yourself, mate. Your dad knows?”

Harrison was pacing the floor of his apartment living room, hands fussing with the mess of curls on his head.

Tom sat on the sofa, eyes shut tightly as he replayed the conversation with his father in his mind.

“Oi, if he knows about the coke, then he has to know it was me, right? Why’d I have to be your goddamn drug dealer, Holland?”

“I don’t fucking know, alright? I didn’t think he’d ever find out about the coke, but if he knows about that, he’s got to know about all the other shit I’ve done,”

“You haven’t done meth, have you?”

Tom looked up at Harrison, his glare more than enough to shut up his best friend.

“Look. He knows about the coke; doesn’t mean he knows it was from you,”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “I was practically your only friend at Stanford, you idiot!” He scoffed.

“Fuck off, Haz! Listen to me - Dom’s a fucking prick, but I’m used to the threats. He’s nothing more than talk, alright? If he did anything to me, it’d taint the whole family name, and that’s not what he wants. He’d die before he lets anyone, even me, ruin the family legacy he’s spent years building.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, silently counting his breaths as Harrison resumed his pacing.

“Have you told…” 

Tom shook his head. “I haven’t even gone home yet. I came straight here, I had to sort out my thoughts and everything,”

Harrison dropped down on the couch next to Tom, and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You are gonna tell her, yeah?”

“I promised her no more secrets, mate. Besides… it’s hard to hide the fact that I'll be gone for a year.” Tom leaned back, eyes fluttering shut once again as he tried to steady his racing heart.

“And the drugs? Does she know about all that?”

Tom’s silence was enough of a response for Harrison.

“You said no more secrets, right? This will come back and bite you in the ass, you know.”

“Yes, I know. But I can’t just go dumping every one of my fucking problems on her, Haz. Everything with my dad is already too much for even me to handle - I can’t expect her to handle all this right off the bat. I need to focus on her and what we have - I just got her back.”

“You have a point. You’re really gonna do this, then? Leave for a whole year?” Harrison could feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.

Opening his eyes, Tom glanced over at him. “There’s not much else I can do, can I? He’s already signed the lease for the apartment, and the check for the office space is waiting for my signature. There’s over three dozen resumes sitting on my desk, and I have to interview candidates as soon as I get off the plane.” With every word that rolled off his tongue, Tom could feel his anxiety spiking. He really was trapped.

“Tough shit, mate.” As they locked eyes with one another, neither could stop from breaking out in laughter. Tom shoved Harrison off the couch, only to receive a kick to the shoulder. 

“You’re gonna pay for that!”

“Bring it on!”

When Tom asked you to take a seat, you could feel your heart folding over itself as it began to brave for the worst.

Harrison sat next to you on the sofa, with (what was supposed to be) an encouraging arm wrapped around your shoulders, but it only brought more anxiety and tension.

What was going on?

Tom was pacing back and forth, his hands buried in the pockets of his suit.

“Should I be concerned?” You whispered in Harrison’s ear. He shook his head no, never taking his eyes off of Tom.

“My bastard of a father wants me to go to Tokyo for a year - for the sake of the company, or so he says.” Tom stopped in front of the tv, one hand on his hip, and the other on the back of his neck.

Oh. An all too familiar sinking feeling appeared, replacing the anxiety that had begun to consume you.

“He’s already got an apartment for me, and a deal’s been negotiated for office space in one of the best locations in the city - all that’s left for me to do is sign the check.”

You sat up, resting your chin on your hands as you repeated Tom’s words over. He could see the gears turning in your mind, and he wasn’t too sure if that was a good sign.

“He doesn’t do this sort of thing often, does he?” You aired the question for both of them, but clearly it took them aback.

“What do you mean by that?” Harrison asked, brows furrowed. Tom met your gaze and nodded.

“From what I know and have heard, seen, and whatnot - Dom really doesn’t seem to stick his nose in company affairs most of the time. Only when he needs something, in some sort of capacity. For example - why did he give you the money to start the company in the first place? What motivated him to sign a check for over $4 million to his inexperienced - sorry! - son?” 

Locking eyes with one another, Tom and Harrison seemed to share the same memory at that exact moment.

It was three in the morning when Dom got the call from Tom’s bodyguard.

“You’ll need to be present if you want him out on bail.” He heard over the phone.

“Is that Osterfield boy with him?” He asked, still groggy.

“Yes, but he was not arrested. He tried to stop him and-”

“Enough. Tell him to go home. Tom can sit in jail for a few more hours. Let them know I’ll be there with the cash before 8.”

 The entire car ride back to his apartment, Tom couldn’t stop fidgeting.

He fucked up. Worse than any other time, and he knew this was going to cost him.

Recognizing the iron-wrought gates of the family estate, Tom glanced over at Dom.

“Your mother is in London with the twins. We need to talk, and I’m not setting foot in the dungeon you call an apartment.”

As the SUV came to a rolling stop outside the front door, Tom bit down on his tongue.

Every time he did something wrong - arrested for possession of marijuana, Adderall, coke; quite possibly every drug imaginable- or caused a scene at some fancy nightclub, Dom was there to break his fall. 

That break always came with a price.

Sometimes the price was as simple as losing a percentage of his trust fund money. That didn’t bother him as much, considering $75,000 was mere change in his pocket. Other times, however, the price was a gamble. Like the time his father had to pay off a landlord so he wouldn’t break the lease after Tom and Harrison completely wrecked the vacation house they had been renting.

Tom wasn’t sure what this would cost him this time around.

They had barely entered the mansion foyer when Dom turned on his heel, and locked eyes with his son.

“You’ve been 21 for less than six months, and yet you’ve managed to put yourself through the goddamn ringer almost every week since then. Do you even care about your fucking reputation anymore, Thomas? Or any idea what this could do to the company?”

Fuck. The company.

The night of his 21st birthday, his father had signed him the coveted check for well over four million dollars - a check that wouldn’t be deposited in his account until he proved to Dom that he could get his shit together, put on a suit, and take on the role of CEO. 

As his father had put it - Tom had had his fun, but as his undergraduate career came to an end, he needed to start focusing on making a name for himself; getting a seat at the table that was his birthright. 

A start-up was just what he needed to set himself straight.

The project was well underway - it had made headlines the day Dom purchased the most lavish office space New York City had to offer. The plan was simple - have the company up and running smoothly by the time Tom graduated, so he could slip on the CEO suit and take over.

But nothing was ever simple when it came to Tom.

He had fought for hours with his father before they finally settled on an agreement for the money that night - only for Dom to turn around and slap him with a hold on the funds.

And here he was, rubbing it in once again.

“Are you listening? Graduation is months away, and yet here I am, bailing you out of jail for being a pathetic son of a bitch.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Tom spat, anger flooding every inch of his body. He won’t get away with this.

“I don’t even know anymore, Thomas.” His father sighed. “But this I know for sure; you fuck up like this again, and you can kiss the company and your trust fund goodbye.”

Tom’s jaw dropped, eyes threatening to pop out of his head from the utter disbelief.

“No you- you can’t fucking do that!”

“I can, and I will. I listed the company under the living trust, with the conditions we agreed upon the night of your birthday. If I deem it necessary, everything in the trust will be seized. You will have nothing if you don’t get your act together.”

“Is the company still part of the trust?” Your mind was trying to process everything Harrison and Tom had just laid out for you, but that was the one piece of information that stuck out like a sore thumb.

Harrison looked at Tom. Tom bit his lip.

“If the company is still listed in the trust, mate -”

“That means your father still has control over it-”

“He can just do whatever he wants, can’t he?” Tom fell to his knees, brushing off the agonizing pain in his bones as you came to him, your arms enveloping him completely.

Harrison felt a familiar sting in the corner of his eye as he walked over to his best friend and crouched down by his side.

“We’ve got you, mate.”

Once you were able to finally calm Tom down, you discussed in detail exactly what the plan was going to be. Even if it wasn’t what any of you wanted. 

Tom decided he would agree to Tokyo if, and only if, he was able to bring his two best assets - you and Harrison. He planned to go to the office early Monday morning to call Dom and see if he could convince him.

It was the best you could all come up with.

Sunday morning, you remembered you’d forgotten a stack of letters at the office, which you needed to sign so they could be mailed out first thing Monday morning. With Tom at a conference upstate, you ended up having to head into the office by yourself.

When the elevator bell rang at the top floor, you were surprised to see the lights were already on in the waiting area.

Who else is here?

Making a sharp left turn at the end of the hall, you decided to move as quickly as possible - the motion sensor lights only lasted 10 minutes, so whoever set them off was still in the office, somewhere.

You spotted the stack of letters on your desk, and working diligently, got them all put away nice and neat in your briefcase. 

A soft knock on your door nearly gave you a heart attack.

Dropping the case to the ground, you look up and lock eyes with the last person you ever expected to cross paths with.

“I hope you don’t have the company’s secrets tucked away in there, dear.”

Dom was looming in the doorway, his smile wavering as you just stared at one another.

Why the fuck was he there?

“I seem to have startled you, and I’m quite sorry about that - I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here on such a nice day,” He was a boulder blocking your path of escape, and your growing anxiety was making your skin crawl. 

“I don’t know- I don’t know how I got to be so distracted, but I forgot these- these, um-” You picked up the briefcase, dropping your gaze from Dom as you ran the palm of your hand over the soft leather. “I have to get these letters signed so they can be sent out first thing in the morning.”

“Signing letters? Seems like such a clerical task for a woman in your position,” He took a step forward, and you stepped back, your hip hitting the side of your desk.

“I uh, wouldn’t really say that-” Tripping over your words, Dom could see you were on edge.

“No? Then what exactly does my son have you work on here? When you’re not busy attending to his… other needs.”

You almost choked on your spit as you looked at Tom’s father in disbelief. Does he… know?

“You see, darling,” Dom took another step forward, and you found yourself pressed against the window, struggling to keep your balance. “As a father… well, parents are always fussing over their children, aren’t they? I’m worried about Tom, and I know you probably know him better than I, and, well. I need to ask a favor of you.”

The look on his face was something that would haunt you forever.

His index finger was tracing the photograph frame on your desk, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Without another word, he pulled out a folded up piece of paper, and held it out to you. Encouraging you with a nod of his head, you grabbed the sheet, and unfolded it, your eyes scanning over its entirety while an uncomfortable sense of nausea filled your stomach.

New York Police Department

34th District

Report

Scrawled in blue ink were the words that would leave anyone distressed. 

Sexual Harassment. 

tags - part one:

@cherrynat @anytimebitches  @jobean12-blog @emotchalla @enigma-xlii @illletitgrow @cloverrover @justaveryobsessedfangirl @ssweet-empowerment @killmongerdreams @spideytrxsh @eyestheyseeyou @aussie-mantle @spidergirlwanab @i-think-i-am-adorable @amanda51015-blog​ @princessskylarsblog​ @whoneedsalifeanyhowxx​ @chinalois​ @clairesrainbow @darkerthanspace​ @slighttinsomniac​ @curlytomholland​ @wanderlustomaha​ @hollandazing​ @mendes-marvel​ @wowspideyholland​ @joshuatparker​

[disconnecteddots]

Notes on Nathan Robinson's Response to J.K. Rowling  - The Bathroom Debate

Because of my great respect for his other writing, I have taken particular interest in the response of Nathan Robinson of Current Affairs to the recent J.K. Rowling controversy, entitled "J.K. Rowling and the Limits of Imagination". The essay is a polemical attack on her views and character, calling her a transphobic bigot.

I will mostly be using the traditional definitions of "woman" and "man" in this response ("adult human female" etc.), except when denoting otherwise using the adjective "trans".

Here are some of my thoughts, mostly on bathrooms and changing rooms.

The subtitle reads:

The creator of Harry Potter could imagine the most marvelous fictional universe in children’s literature—yet she can’t imagine the inner lives of transgender people or the radical expansion of political possibilities.

This is a very helpful sentence contradicting the idea that Rowling is of poor character. Yes, the ideas trans rights activists (henceforth TRAs) peddle are indeed "radical". It should come as no surprise that people have trouble imagining radical ideas. This is a common feature of radical ideas, regardless of whether they are true! Whether someone can imagine radical ideas is not very indicative of their character.

She tells the usual fear-mongering tales that conservative Republicans tell about the perils of having trans women in the bathroom:

“When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman—and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones—then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside.”

As my colleague Brianna Rennix has written, this is ridiculous: people who wish to commit sex crimes in bathrooms do not have their gender checked at the door. A person does not have to “pass” as a woman to commit a crime in the ladies’ room, they just have to walk into the ladies’ room.

First off, note the switch from Rowling's "bathrooms and changing rooms" to just "bathrooms... the ladies' room". Changing rooms have mysteriously disappeared in Nathan's response. I have seen this dodge before. Perhaps because it's easier to defend bathrooms, where private stalls prevent voyeurism, than changing rooms, where people may change and shower in the open.

But more importantly, Nathan's retort is easy to dispute. It is very easy to think of impediments that keep men from entering women's spaces. They may be observed, noted as suspicious, and/or confronted inside the space. They may be observed, noted as suspicious, and/or confronted by observers outside the space, such as a waiter in a restaurant seeing a man enter the women's restroom. They may be asked to leave businesses or other establishments. They may suffer social consequences if word is spread of their behavior. They may be ejected by staff or police. With social and physical consequences for trespassing, it would be difficult for a man to use strategies such as repeated entry or lingering in women's spaces, useful for finding opportunities for misconduct. Seriously, what would happen if a man entered a women's changing room with twenty women in it? They'd confront him and chase him out! And all of these possible consequences also creates internal discouragement in the offender: fear. Fear can be overcome by repeated confrontation of the fear - in this case, that would be repeated intrusion into women's spaces. But that's difficult if the intrusions result in consequences.

But with explicit sanctioning of self ID as the only criterion for entry into women's spaces, none of these defensive strategies can work properly. Intruders can overcome their fears through practice. They can enter and linger as often as they like, so long as their behavior wouldn't provoke suspicion if done by a woman. They can't be ejected by staff or police until after they commit an offense, and much voyeurism won't be punishable at all - no one gets kicked out of a changing room for scanning the room. No one gets kicked out of communal showers for showering in them.

There is one remaining defense with self ID: prejudice. If trans women are still observed and noted as suspicious, that decreases the ability for men to intrude and offend. If social consequences are still imposed on trans women for using the women's bathroom, that also serves as a deterrent. But if this prejudice is eliminated in this context as TRAs desire, these defenses will be lost as well.

Does Nathan really think it's a knockdown argument that unless there's a guard at the door, or the door is locked, that that means there is no impediment to going somewhere? Sometimes I leave my front door unlocked at home. But if an intruder were to enter my home, they'd risk running into me, the police being called, etc. That's just a basic fact about life. The threat of social or physical consequences discourages people from certain behaviors even when there's no immediate obstruction to those behaviors.

On to the next quote from Nathan.

More importantly, she does not consider that her own framework for bathrooms, by wanting trans women to use the men’s room, will create the exact abuse situations that she says she is worried about—and every day instead of rarely. We have some data suggesting that forcing trans people to use the wrong bathroom increases their risk of being assaulted, which is what you’d expect. Why is the fear experienced by trans women forced to use a bathroom for the opposite gender not present in her framework? Because J.K. Rowling is transphobic, and trans women’s experiences are seen as less legitimate.

First, TRAs have a really hard time understanding that their Gender Critical opponents don't have a problem with trans people, they have a problem with men - people who fit the traditional anatomic definition of "male" or "man", regardless of how they identify. My guess is that this is because feminists of all stripes have normalized anti-male rhetoric, so to admit that GC feminists are anti-male and not transphobic would be rhetorical surrender. Rowling addresses this specifically in her essay: "Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women," but Nathan ignores what she says. Excluding trans women but accepting trans men in the women's bathroom is best characterized as anti-male, not transphobic. And demanding that trans women not be called "men" or "male" in any context is using definitions as a manipulative tool by making it rhetorically impossible to refer to human sexual dimorphism.

Second, segregating bathrooms and changing rooms are a probabilistic measure towards reducing sexual misconduct and violence. Not all misconduct will be prevented - the goal is just to prevent some of it. Some women commit sexual or violent crimes against other women - we let them in the women's bathroom anyway. Many men don't commit sexual or violent crimes against women - they're excluded regardless, even if they're in a low risk category (e.g., gay). Men are left to fend for themselves against other men in men's bathrooms and changing rooms - even if they're weak, disabled, poor, or of a marginalized racial group. Many trans women could easily pass as men and go unnoticed in the men's room - self ID means we're not just talking about trans women who have undergone sex change operations that intrinsically draw attention. Should our efforts be devoted to reducing intramale violence and harassment in the men's room, or effectively abandoning the segregation system altogether by adopting self ID? How will the effects of self ID change over time as trans acceptance increases, reducing the social barriers to a non-trans male predator pretending to be trans as an abuse tactic? These are completely debatable questions. It is not bigoted to consider excluding some or all trans women, just as it is not bigoted to exclude gay males. Segregation systems by definition separate humans from each other based on some arbitrary criteria, and I have heard no call for generally integrating bathrooms and changing rooms into unisex spaces.

Next quote.

...in her essay she talks about the problems she sees with letting “any man who believes or feels he’s a woman” be considered a woman, which is very straightforward: she thinks many who claim to be women are not in fact women.

More subtle dishonesty from Nathan. Here's the quote he's referencing from Rowling:

When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

That doesn't actually imply Nathan's "very straightforward" interpretation that "she thinks many who claim to be women are not in fact women". It just means what she says, and it is indeed a simple truth. Perhaps there are not many men dishonestly claiming to be trans women now - Rowling actually doesn't comment on that at all in that quote. Nathan just made an opinion up for her so he could trash her. But if transphobia is eliminated from society as both TRAs and Gender Critical people desire, and there is no medical or other gatekeeping preventing males from claiming to be women, then yes, any man may claim to be a woman with zero impediment. We have ample evidence from history that men will go to great lengths to commit crimes against women. So yes, we would expect voyeurism and other abuse rates in women's spaces from opportunistic male intruders to go up. Obviously. If we didn't, why would we bother having separate facilities in the first place?

Nathan’s argument also reeks of what I previously noted: that the TRAs demand that “men” and even “male” be used to refer to gender identity, and not anatomy, is a manipulative tactic to make it impossible to discuss human sexual dimorphism. Nathan writes, “She thinks many who claim to be women are not in fact women.” Trans women are often anatomically male (I’m not going to debate whether medicine can change sex or intersex people here). Being born anatomically male is why they’re trans women and not non-trans women!

I'll take a moment to note that the TRAs no longer consider gender dysphoria a condition for being trans. That is, even persons that are psychologically accepting of their conventional gender, or who could become accepting through non-transition treatments or growth, can be considered trans. So what's stopping an abusive male from saying, "hey, I would just prefer to shower with women - that sounds more pleasant than showering with men?" Nothing!

[let-it-raines]

it’s all an act (until it isn’t) {1/1}

High school drama teacher Killian Jones doesn’t have time for drama off the stage. He’s had enough of it in his life, and no part of him is searching for more. But then the day before his theater class’s modern day interpretation of a fairytale begins its four-week run, his two leads get sick. There are no understudies, no one to fill the roles, but as they say, the show must go on. 

With him in it, apparently. 

Having Emma Swan, the music teacher and woman who has avoided him since her first day of work at Storybrooke High, fill in as the starring role opposite him is the complete opposite of what he expected. 

Rating: Teen

A/N: Shoutout to @shireness-says and @wellhellotragic for giving me the prompts that make up the inspiration behind this story. You two are always bright spots of sunshine and deserve all of the cupcakes 🧁 in the world. I mean that very, very seriously. ❤️

And thank you to @captainsjedi for organizing @csseptembersunshine and making me get my butt in gear to finally write this story when I’d been struggling with my one-shots. 

Found on AO3: | Here |

Tag list: @kmomof4 @heavenlyjoycastle @tiganasummertree @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @idristardis @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard

-/-

“Where the bloody hell are Ethan and Kate?”

Killian’s voice bellows over the stage, his words echoing off of the walls and seemingly disappearing into the void, which is what happens whenever he talks on some days. He’s got maybe five students who actively listen to him every single day, and every single one of those five are on a field trip to some kind of classical music concert that he did not give approval for. Granted, he’s only the drama teacher, but when they have the opening night of the play they’ve been practicing for coming up tomorrow, he kind of expects his students to be around.

Or to at least be asked if the field trip interferes with anything.

But was he asked? No, no of course he wasn’t. He’s never asked anything because on the school’s totem pole of important faculty, he is at the bottom with all of the other fine arts teachers, which is a damn shame. Reading and writing and arithmetic are important. No one knows this more than him, someone who has spent nearly all of his life in school even when he was in the Navy, but kids can’t be contained at a desk all day. They have to move or create art, whether that be painting, acting, or playing the damn piccolo. They have to be able to broaden their horizons and have an outlet for everything that they’re going through, so he thinks the drama department is pretty damn important.

As well as the art and music departments, even the physical education departments – and that’s not simply because he is also the track and field coach.

And yet, here he is unable to find his two leads for tomorrow, as well as most of his best students, and it’s all because Emma Swan didn’t bother to tell him that she was taking so many of his kids away to go to an all-day music festival outside of town the day before opening night.

Killian would bet that she did it on purpose.

Actually, he knows that she did.

Emma Swan is the bane of his existence. Never will he forget the day that she started at Storybrooke High three years ago. They’d pulled up into the teacher’s parking lot at the same time, and he’d seen her struggling to grab all of her bags and boxes of things, so he’d quickly slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward her, offering her both a smile and a hand. She’d accepted, a nervous smile on her face, her green eyes very obviously wary of him, and they’d walked in the front doors of the school together.

She was (is) gorgeous. There was no denying that, not that he ever has. She was all toned legs and arms in her red dress that contrasted well against the light, but not too pale, tone of her skin. Her smile was brightened by the red lipstick she was wearing, her full lips accentuated by it, and the blonde of her hair fell down her back in waves that he wanted to run his fingers through.

Obviously, he didn’t. There’s such a thing as human decency and sexual harassment, and he is nothing if not a gentleman (most of the time), but he did notice that she was simply a stunning woman.

The stunning Emma Swan.

There’d been small talk, of course, and he’d asked her about her new position here, what school she was coming from, follow up questions to all of that, and then offered his help for anything and everything that she might need while starting her new job. She’d smiled and said thank you, but then she’d easily navigated to her office, the one just outside of the music classroom and across the hall from his office and the auditorium where he spends his days, and shut the door in his face.

After that, he never quite cracked her code.

During lunch, she seems to have no issue talking to other teachers. She gladly chats with Belle, their librarian, Mary Margaret, the science teacher for grades nine and ten, and occasionally she can be seen talking with other teachers as well. Really, she’s so goddamn friendly with everyone that it makes absolutely zero sense for her to dislike him and not want to be friendly with him. Sure, he’s been disliked by many a woman before – bad dates and relationships and then once for taking the last carton of milk at the grocery store – but he’s always known why. He’s never been left in this state of confusion as to why he’s disliked.

Which is a shame because he quite fancies her from time to time when she’s not yelling at him for taking her students away from practice to work with him on stage or when she’s stealing his students for a last-minute fieldtrip to who knows where on the day of dress rehearsals.

Emma’s got this thing that she does during faculty meetings where whenever she disagrees with what’s being said, she scrunches up her nose and makes it wrinkle. He imagines that she wrinkles her nose when she thinks of him, most likely holding one of her many swan-themed coffee mugs that’s got a fifty-fifty shot of being filled with coffee with vanilla creamer or hot chocolate topped with loads of cinnamon. He can’t even begin to imagine how much she has to work out for how she eats. That, or she has the world’s greatest metabolism.

Damn her for making him notice these things and damn her for stealing his students.

“Seriously, guys,” Killian grumbles again, shifting the canopy bed prop that they rolled onto stage earlier this afternoon. His hands are full of callouses and most likely stained in paint for how much work he’s had to put into making the set. Liam and Elsa have come to the school or his apartment after they get off of work to help out with making sets, and he wonders just how he can repay them for going above and beyond when they already work far more often than him…and he feels like he never stops working. “Why aren’t you listening to me? Where are Kate and Ethan?”

Of the thirty teenagers that he still has with him today, two look up, and neither of them say anything, simply looking at him with pleading eyes, begging him not to make them talk. He loves all of these kids, and even though sometimes it’s hard to garner the attention of all of them, it’s usually much better than this.

He’s a damn good teacher. He can command a room, his five far-too-loyal students aside.

“Bloody hell,” he shouts, clapping his hands together so that the remaining twenty-eight heads look up at him with varying degrees of disgust. “I know that you guys don’t have a lot to do right now when we’re missing our leads, but that doesn’t mean you can just ignore me. Now will someone tell me where Kate and Ethan are? I know they’re not in music, so I know that they’re not on the field trip.”

His eyes scan over the group, looking for someone who’s going to crack, and he finally finds it in Ava.

“They’re sick, Mr. Jones,” she says quietly as her fingers twist around her braid. “That’s what Kate said when she texted me this morning.”

“Are they actually sick or are they skipping classes today while their parents think that they’re at school? And are they going to be better tomorrow?”

He’s met with silence once more until a deep laugh breaks out from Felix, a kid who is great at building sets but not so great at being a part of the team. Honestly, Killian has no idea why he’s even in this class when he could have chosen from several other electives. Deep down, he thinks it might be to torture Killian. Honestly. He’s only ninety percent sure that isn’t the reason he’s in the class.

Maybe eighty percent. It depends on the day.

“They have fucking mono, man,” Felix laughs, propping his feet up on the theater chair in front of him. “They’re not coming to class.”

“Language,” Killian says instinctively while his mind runs over the information he’s just been given. He’s a little loose with his curse words, but Americans seem to be a little more reserved with curses than he and all of his fellow Brits are so this is something he’s had to deal with while teaching in America. “What do you mean they have mono? How do you know this, but I don’t?”

“Group chat,” Felix answers noncommittally. “Ethan went to the doctor a couple days go, then Kate went, and they both got mono because they’re not just making out on stage, you know?”

Yes, he does know about the fact that the two leads in his play are dating. He didn’t when he cast them, but that also wouldn’t have mattered. He knows far too much about each of his students and their personal lives because for some reason, every bit of gossip happens while in this auditorium. The things that he’s heard while trying to paint a tree for set or while attempting to give an actual lesson where his students are supposed to take notes on the history of theater.

No part of him misses when he was a teenager. Every little thing feels like the most important thing, and he cannot imagine having to feel that way again.

“They have mono,” he repeats, testing out the words on his tongue all the while he tries to convince himself that this isn’t real. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. You haven’t gotten a note from their parents about it?”

Killian shakes his head before pulling his phone out of his back pocket, ignoring texts from his brother and his mates so that he can login to his school email. There are several messages that he sees that he needs to get to later all involving logistics for the show tomorrow night, and then he sees the emails Felix mentioned.

Bloody buggering fuck.

His leads are sick.

And they didn’t do any understudies because no one else was comfortable enough to sing on stage, and he figured that it’s just a high school play that the kids wanted to put on as a part of the class. It wasn’t a big deal.

Except for the fact that their principal told him that the ticket sales can all go toward fundraising for the drama department, and now he doesn’t have anyone to actually lead the play.

His students wanted to put on a modern-day fairytale, and all of these disasters happening at once make him think that he might very well be living in one.

If a modern-day fairytale is actually a nightmare.

-/-

Killian has been staring at his computer screen in his office for at least two hours when he hears the click of boots against the linoleum floor in the hallway outside of his office. It’s past six, everyone long gone, and he knows that it can only be one person walking out in the hallway.

Emma.

There’s a flash of long legs and blonde hair falling over a red leather jacket, and he’d recognize those three elements of her person anywhere. But as she’s walking into her office, across the hall from him, he definitely knows that it’s her. The fact that she leaves her door open and he can see her sitting at her desk certainly doesn’t help him forget.

How is she so beautiful and infuriating all at once?

“It’s rude to stare, Jones,” Emma shouts from her office like she does whenever they have these kinds of conversations.

He blinks up at her, unaware of how long exactly he has been staring at her. His head is pounding a ridiculous amount, and he wonders why the hell he ever left England and the Royal Navy just to come to America to teach high school drama and yell at kids to keep running around an asphalt track.

(Heartbreak, following his brother, et cetera.)

“It’s rude to take away my students the day before we have a show opening.”

“Their parents signed permission slips. I wasn’t aware I needed approval from you too.”

“Yeah, well, it’s common courtesy to at least let me know. Why isn’t there a school policy about that?”

He can’t quite see, but he knows that she’s rolling those green eyes of hers. She rises from her desk, and while he thinks she’s only getting up to close her office door, she doesn’t. Instead, she walks into the hallway and over to his office, leaning her shoulder up against his doorframe as she crosses her arms over her chest. When did she take her jacket off to leave her in a simple white sweater?

“You okay?” Emma asks, what sounds like genuine concern in her voice.

“Do you actually care?”

She scoffs, and he looks up at her again so that he can see the slightest twitching in her jaw along with a wrinkling of her nose.

“Believe it or not, I’m not a complete and total bitch. You look like you’re freaking out, and I’m genuinely concerned about that.”

“Ah well,” he sighs, reaching up to scratch behind his ear as he plasters a fake smile on his face, “you don’t have to worry about me, love. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re a liar is what you are.”

“How would you know?”

“For one, you have the worst poker face in the world, but I also have a little bit of a superpower in being able to tell when someone is lying.”

“Really now?”

“Yep. You don’t teach teenagers for six years without knowing how to tell someone is lying.” She steps further into the room and takes a seat in the cushioned chair that sits in the small space across from his desk. This might be the most pleasant conversation they’ve had in years, and he’s still not entirely sure that it isn’t some kind of fever dream. “So, tell me, Jones, what has you looking like you’d rather have a mug full of rum than coffee this late in the afternoon?”

Sighing, he leans forward on his desk and taps his fingers over the script, large letters typed out to read “Sleeping Beauty.” He’s got the entire script memorized now, mostly because he was the one to write the majority of it – with the help of the actual fairytale, the movie, and then his students when they insisted they do a modern version of a fairytale with a twist – but also because he’s been running lines with these kids for weeks.

And now he has no stars.

“I’m a bloody idiot,” he starts, swallowing his pride and the stress that’s lodged in his throat, “because I didn’t cast understudies for this play. Only two students in the class were comfortable both singing and sharing a kiss on stage, and I figured that it would be fine. It’s not a huge production, but then I was told that ticket sales could go to the theater department so that I can actually have funding. But the joke is on me because my leads have mono and are pretty much out for the entire month that we were going to be doing the show.”

Silence surrounds him as he finishes his rant, wondering why the hell he’s ranting to Emma in the first place, and he swears that he can hear the beating of his heart. Or maybe it’s the ticking of the clock above his door.

“You don’t have any other kids who know the lines?”

“Ava Hanson,” he sighs, looking up at Emma while he runs his hands through his hair, “but she’s not going to feel comfortable on stage. At this point, I’m wondering if we should simply postpone or if maybe I should play the lead role and modify things to make it more appropriate. Honestly, though, I’m not sure if I feel comfortable doing that.”

Emma groans, something deep and annoyed, and he’s just about to snap at her as he wonders what the hell could she possibly be upset about when she gets up from the chair and starts pacing back and forth in the room, her face buried in her hands.

“I’m willing to help you,” Emma huffs, stopping her pacing to look at him with her hands on her hips.

“What, love?”

“Look, I know what it’s like to be a part of the arts department, obviously, and funding is so hard to come by that I wouldn’t want you to miss out on any for those kids. Plus, I’m sure a bunch of the kids were looking forward to it. So, for those two reasons and those two reasons alone, I will read over the script and see if I can act in your play if you’re going to fill in for the other lead role.”

“You’re serious?” Killian questions. There’s no way. Absolutely none. “You realize this is a three-times a week thing for four weeks, it involves singing, extra time for no pay, and you have to spend time with me?”

“I obviously haven’t won the lottery or anything here, but yeah, I got all of that.”

“And you know what play we’re doing, right?”

“Sleeping Beauty.”

“Which involves a kiss.”

Emma’s lips fall into the shape of an “O” and he chuckles at that, thoroughly enjoyed by the blush on Emma’s cheeks and the continual blinking of her eyes.

“Just,” she whines, reaching down onto the desk to pick up the script he was looking at, “brush your teeth beforehand, and don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.”

-/-

There’s a substitute filling in for all of the theater and music classes the next day as he and Emma run through lines and do the messiest rehearsal in the history of rehearsals. Surprisingly, she knew most of her lines when she walked into the auditorium this morning, and while that did make everything go more smoothly, it was still a mess finding their timing as well as the timing of all of their students. But by the time the lunch bell rings, they’ve got a pretty good handle on it, and he sends Emma off to the closet where they keep the costumes to see if she can fit into Kate’s costumes. He’s sure that she can, especially with how slight Emma is, but then Emma walks up on stage with her breasts practically spilling out of the dress.

“What am I supposed to do about this?”

“To what are you referring?” Emma rolls her eyes and motions her hands around until she’s pointing at her chest, impatiently waiting for him to acknowledge the slight problem. “Well, love, your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear.”

Emma laughs, her eyes rolling once more, but he can see the slight smile on her face.

They might just get on, the two of them.

Or kill each other.

Everything for the rest of the day is a blur of him practicing while also dealing with all of the disasters and melodramatic emergencies that his students go through, and he swears the he blinks and people are already filling the auditorium. Liam and Elsa were kind enough to collect tickets for him, as well as buying far more tickets than necessary and forcing all of Elsa’s family to come to the show like he’s a teenager performing tonight and not an adult who screwed up, and he absolutely knows that he’s going to be teased about this until someone else does something equally embarrassing.

Not that being in theater is embarrassing. But being over thirty years old and acting with several sixteen-year-olds is.

Plus, they all know about his slight infatuation with Emma Swan and her definite dislike of him, and Killian just knows that Liam is going to be sitting in the front row recording this to have on file forever. It’ll likely be his Christmas card. Forget a picture of he and Elsa and Elsa’s ever-growing baby bump. It’s going to be Killian walking around on stage.

Closing the curtains he’s peeking out of, Killian turns around to see Emma standing in front of him wearing jeans and a blouse, her feet covered in white sneakers.

“What the bloody hell are you wearing?”

“It’s a modern-day fairytale,” she points out with a smirk, motioning her hands over her. “This is what a modern-day woman wears. Plus, I bent over in that dress and a boob popped out. I’m not flashing some of these dads who already think they can hit on me.”

“Yeah,” Killian gulps, forcing a smile as his stomach twists, “good point. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

It goes surprisingly well even though everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Felix curses in the middle of the one scene that he’s in, Ava’s microphone goes out which makes her cheeks flame in embarrassment, a tree falls down on top of him during the forest scene, and the bed squeaks when he kneels down on top of it to kiss Emma awake.

And that is something else entirely.

He and Emma had argued for an hour over the scene where Phillip wakes Aurora up with a kiss. She’d agreed that it was written well and followed the original storyline, but she’d protested in how they should actually go about it. How the hell does one kiss their colleague and then everything go back to normal?

How did he ever expect his students to do that as well?

This is nothing like it ever was when he was occasionally in community theater in different parts of his life.

But then the play ends to a hefty smattering of applause, and Killian can finally take a deep breath.

And it starts all over again.

Four weeks. He can do four weeks.

-/-

“This is exhausting,” Emma sighs as she stretches out across the panels on the stage, her body star-fished on the wood.

The two of them have been at the school since seven this morning cleaning up the auditorium so the janitor didn’t have to come in on an extra day. It’s the right thing to do when it’s their fault that there’s extra mess in the school, but he’s really and truly regretting it right now that his head pounds at the lack of caffeine in his system. Emma was smart enough to walk in the school with one of her swan mugs full of coffee, but his mind was not thinking that far ahead this morning.

Damn Kate and Ethan for getting mono.

Can he damn his students?

He probably should not be doing that.

But he kind of wants to because while the past three weeks have been stressful and busy and his personal life has absolutely gone down the drain, it hasn’t been…awful. All of his students are having a grand time, having fun with each other and becoming more comfortable in their roles, and to him, that’s the most important thing. He wants them to know that this can be a fun experience and that they don’t have to worry about being judged. So, that’s been great.

Kissing Emma Swan approximately (exactly) eighteen times has been not so great.

Okay, well, it’s actually been wonderful in a weird sense. Stage kissing and actual kissing are two entirely different things, but once the stiffness of those first few days was gone, it felt more natural.

And his odd, inexplicable crush on Emma only deepened, which is the last thing that he wanted.

(He’s turning into a teenager.)

It only gets worse in the fact that she walked inside the building today in a pair of short black running shorts and a matching black tank top with her hair pulled off of her neck in a ponytail. He doesn’t know when she finds the time to work out, but if the definition in her arms and legs shows anything, it’s that she very much does find the time.

(So working out and a good metabolism is how she eats like she does.)

Plus, well, she’s not all bad.

They bicker more than anyone he’s ever met. If he says black, she says white. If he wants to get Chinese delivery for a late dinner, she wants pizza. If he wants to change the tempo on a song to be faster, Emma wants it to be slower. Every single thing is a battle, and he loves it.

In fact, he hasn’t had this much fun in years. Their bickering is different than their bickering of the past. It’s no longer hostile and falls more into the category of teasing or, if he’s a tad bit presumptuous, flirting. A little thrill of excitement runs through him when Emma picks a fight or teases him about the flip of his hair in the same way that he sees her lips curl up into a smile when he teases her right back for the way that her voice croaked during their third performance.

Fun.

Spending time with her is fun.

And he’s terrified to know what’s going to happen when the show ends its run in a week and they go back to hating each other from across the hallway.

“Aye,” he confirms, using the muscles in his arms to pull himself up to sit on the edge of the stage, his fingers reaching over to mess with the loose bit of Emma’s sock, pulling a bit more when she doesn’t flinch away. “Tis exhausting. I plan on sleeping for a solid week when it’s all over.”

“We have school.”

“I’m thinking of playing hooky. You want to join?”

“Depends,” she mumbles, sitting up and bringing her knees to her chest, “what are we going to do?”

Killian hums in thought, tapping his finger against his chin. “Well, for one, sleeping for at least a day. Then drinking a glass or two of rum without having to worry about waking up early the next morning, which is kind of the same thing. But mostly, in this fantasy world, I’m going to spend days away from teenagers of any and all kinds.”

“Amen to that, Jones. Add in some greasy hangover food after that night of rum drinking, and I am there.”

“Grilled cheese and onion rings?”

“It’s scary how you know that.”

“We share a cafeteria five days a week, love,” he sighs, turning a bit more on the stage so that he can look at her while he talks. “A man picks up on some things. I’m sure you notice these things about me too.”

Her brows furrow, suspicion painted in her features, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “This sounds like some kind of trap to stroke your ego, and I am not falling for it.”

“My princess,” he says sarcastically, knowing that she hates it, “whatever shall I do with you? I’d go to the ends of the world or time to make you happy.”

“All you have to do is go to the faculty lounge and make me some more coffee.”

Killian hops down from the stage and bends over in a sarcastic bow that has Emma laughing. “As you wish, milady.”

The show that night goes smoothly, probably their smoothest one yet. Everyone is settled in their roles now, so there’s not much to do but work on vocals and do little tweaks that he’ll need to work on if they also do a spring production. With classes and track and field practice, he’s not entirely sure how he’ll fit one in, especially with every other event that takes up the auditorium near graduation, but it’s simply something to think about.

As well as having understudies. He’s never making this mistake again even if it’s going much better than he ever could have imagined.

Emma is a damn good stage partner, which shouldn’t be surprising given what he knows about her musical ability, but being a musician doesn’t always translate over into being a good actor. At the beginning, he was definitely simply hoping for someone to fill the spot in the most adequate of ways. He was never expecting her to be good.

He also wasn’t expecting them to still have crowds this many shows in. Honestly, when the school set-up this timeline, he expected it to only last two weeks and for them to cancel the rest of the shows, but he managed to get a few retirement homes, elementary schools, and recreational groups to come on different nights so that there’s always someone sitting in the crowd.

If Will, Robin, and Liam are asses who keep coming back simply so that they have more proof of him acting with Emma, that’s beside the point.

If he went to dinner with Elsa three days ago and told her that he’s developed actual feelings for Emma over the past few days, that’s definitely beside the point.

And yet it is also every point on all of his lists written over and over again in permanent marker.

Every logical bone in his body told him not to let his little crush fester and develop into something more, but spending all of this time with her, watching her laugh at his jokes or hum along to their music while cleaning up after the shows has completely endeared her to him. It’s the oldest story in the world – a man falls for a woman – and yet he thinks this has the beginnings to be his favorite tale.

Tonight, though, is their final show, and since Kate and Ethan received the all clear from their doctors two days ago, he and Emma are very gladly stepping down from their roles to let their students close it out. A little bit of fate or good coincidence is playing out here, and when his ever-loyal small group of students tell him to go sit in the audience for once and watch, he listens.

If not with a bit of trepidation as it’s not like him not to be behind the curtains making sure everything goes just right.

“You want some popcorn?” Emma asks him when she plops down in the seat next to him, a red and white striped box in her hands, the smell of salt and butter invading his nostrils. “It’s really good. I’m sure it goes against your healthy eating lifestyle, but you should live a little.”

Killian reaches over to grab a handful, the butter greasy on his fingertips, before popping two pieces in his mouth. “So, you have noticed the way that I eat.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” She knocks her shoulder into his, and he knocks right back. “It’s going to be weird watching it from down here. I feel like I should be singing to you or gurgling mouthwash or something.”

“I knew you used mouthwash right before we kissed.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure that I could trust you despite me telling you to brush your teeth.”

“Minty and fresh,” he breathes, twisting his head so that he can get that little bit closer to Emma. “And maybe a little buttery now.”

“It’s a good thing you won’t be kissing me tonight then.”

His stomach twists at that, his heart dropping a little bit, and he knows that is shouldn’t. He’s an adult. He knows what happens up on that stage is all an act, literally, and his mind shouldn’t get confused by it. And while his mind likely isn’t confused by the lines that they say on stage, it’s confused by what happens off of it. It’s the lunches together and the way Emma comes into his office when they’re both staying late on non-play nights grading papers. Neither of them close their doors now, those wooden frames always staying open, and while she does still shout at him from across the hallway, very rarely is it cross words. Oftentimes it is simply Emma telling Killian to check his phone because she has sent him yet another meme about being a theater teacher.

Truly, it’s the smiles and small jokes and the way that her steps match up with his in the hallways, the echoes of their shoes blending together so that no one would know who exactly it is that’s walking down the corridors of the school.

It’s the subliminal changes, the ones that only he would notice, and while they are small, much like Emma, they are mighty.

“Yeah,” Killian mumbles a little dejected as he takes another bite of popcorn, “it is a good thing.”

Emma looks at him with parted lips like she’s about to speak, but before she can say anything, the squeak of the curtains opening sounds the beginning of the show.

Because Killian’s been acting in it and consumed with playing many roles both on and off stage, he hasn’t truly been able to appreciate the production. He hasn’t been able to appreciate the sets or the way that the kids easily change them between scenes. Now he’s able to notice that and precisely how much everyone has improved, how confident his students are under the lights and in front of the crowds. He’s always been a fan of pushing comfort zones, of helping his more shy students break out of them, but he also knows that it can’t be forced. Some people simply are not comfortable with that no matter how much time he gives, and that’s okay. They find their roles in other ways.

“Kate’s voice is beautiful,” Emma whispers in his ear, but he has a difficult time focusing on it for how her hand is curled around his forearm. She’s got soft hands, especially considering the callouses he knows should form from playing instruments all day. “Does she play any instruments? Why is she not in one of my music classes?”

“Don’t pilfer my students, Swan.”

Her fingers pinch around his skin, pulling at the hair, and Killian scrunches up his nose while he looks at her, their noses only two or three inches apart. “I wasn’t trying to, thank you very much. I was thinking maybe we could see if some of my students wanted to do a combination with yours. We could do live music with a play. Maybe not one that runs for four weeks, but at least a show.”

“Look at you coming around to me.”

“Yeah, well, like you said, we make quite the team.”

When the play is over, his students doing a bang-up job and giving a better performance than they ever would with he and Emma on stage, the audience rises for a standing ovation that has the grin on his face stretching from ear-to-ear. It looks the same to Emma. Kate and Ethan and the rest of their students insist that he and Emma stand on stage with them all, each of them very obviously going for dramatic effect, so he takes Emma’s hand and walks around the front aisle of the auditorium until they can walk up the side steps and have their thirty seconds of gratification and self-indulgence in doing a good job.

Killian doesn’t let go of Emma’s hand.

More importantly, Emma doesn’t let go of his.

She does eventually when they start cleaning up for the night, parents and students helping out as they all eat the pizza that Liam decided to donate for the night. Attached to the top box was a note telling Killian to stop being a coward and to ask Emma out, and thankfully, he snatched that piece of paper away quickly before stuffing it in his pocket. His older brother never does seem to stop finding ways to embarrass him while also being a good person.

Amazing how that works out.

Eventually the sets are put away yet not dismantled and every pizza but one has been devoured, so Killian grabs it and his car keys before walking out of the auditorium and down the hallway to the exit only to find Emma waiting for him. Or, at least, that’s what he thinks.

“So,” she starts, looking up from her phone to smile at him, the black dress she has on far too distracting, “you want to go get that glass of rum?”

“Swan, are you asking me out on a date?”

“I’m asking you to a bar.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking?”

Emma chuckles, shaking her head from side to side as she steps forward so that they’re eye-to-eye, her heels aiding that. “I knew you’d be old-fashioned, so I’ll tell you what, you can pay. And drive.”

“Why, love, you do flatter a man.”

-/-

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma mumbles, her hand placed on his thigh, innocently and yet distracting all at once, “you were in the Navy in England? How the hell did you get here?”

They’ve been at the Rabbit Hole bar for two hours now, only one drink each somehow, and he swears that they haven’t stopped talking this entire time. Obviously, he’s gotten to know Emma better over the last month of him spending so much time with her, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t her sharing stories of the time she spends with her friends or talking about how she knew Mary Margaret through Mary Margaret’s husband. It wasn’t her telling him that she got into music because the foster mom she had as a teenager was a music teacher and taught Emma to play several instruments. It wasn’t him getting to know her on a level more intimate than the pleasantries that all teachers share at school.

It wasn’t this.

And it definitely wasn’t Emma asking him about his life with more interest than she usually shows.

Or the casual touching that precedes flirting. It may have been awhile for him, but he does know flirting when he sees it. Emma Swan flirting with him makes his stomach twist and his heart pound.

“Eh,” he sighs, reaching up to scratch behind his ear out of nerves, “so I joined the Royal Navy at eighteen. It gave me money and purposed and an education. I’d always been interested in the theater as a kid, so I figured I’d study that and possibly become a teacher after I retired. I simply didn’t expect to retire so soon.”

“Well, why did you?”

The age-old question.

“A broken heart. I’d been dating someone, Milah, for a few years, and I bought a ring to propose to her. I did propose, actually, but she turned me down.” He chuckles the words bitterly with a forced smile on his face. “She’d slept with someone else and had hidden it from me, but I guess the ring made her unable to hide it anymore. So, yeah, that wasn’t great, and when my contract ended later that year, I looked into moving here to be with my brother and his wife, who is American. It was a hell of a lot of paperwork and interviews, but I like being here. It’s relaxing.”

The smile on Emma’s face is soft, apologetic, and he can tell that she wants to say that she’s sorry, to show him pity like everyone always does when he shares that story. It’s something he’s grown used to, but he doesn’t want Emma’s pity.

“I was engaged,” she blurts out instead, pulling her hand back from his thigh to grab her wine from the bar top and take a small sip. “Obviously, I’m not anymore, but I was, right before I started to work at Storybrooke. That’s why I transferred. That’s also why I may have been a bit of a bitch to you.”

“You?” he mock gasps. “You being a little rude to me? Never.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to apologize.”

“You’re not very good at it.”

“I will punch you.”

“So aggressive.”

“You like it,” she teases, flipping her hair over her shoulder so that his eyes are drawn to the dip of her clavicle before he looks back at her eyes.

“Perhaps I do,” he admits quietly, the sounds around him quieting for a moment as he begins to lean in, begins to get closer to Emma, but he stops himself halfway and pulls back. He’s not ruining this moment by making a brash decision. He won’t.

“Uh, um, anyways,” Emma stutters while blinking, her fingers tapping against the glass. She uncrosses her legs, and he nearly falls backward when her calf brushes against his. Smooth, Jones, smooth. “So, I was engaged to a guy that I worked with, had the ring on my finger and a wedding date booked, and one day I went to his classroom at lunch to ask him if he wanted to eat the rest of my pasta only to see him making out with the vice principal. Which obviously sucked a lot for me, personally, but also it was super inappropriate. Neal always insisted that we don’t show affection at work. No one even knew it was him I was engaged to, and I guess I didn’t realize why he was that way until I found out he was dating two women at one school, which really took him to a whole new level of shitty.”

“He sounds like a real bastard.”

“Yeah,” Emma laughs, a bitter smile on her face, “yeah he was, but it’s for the best, you know? I’m not glad that it happened, but I’m glad that I found out when I did. I can’t imagine having actually been married to him. So, when I met you and you were all charming and helpful as well as a fellow teacher, I was done with helpful and charming men and kind of took it out on you.”

“You find me charming then?”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“I do so love a compliment.”

“Stop,” she chuckles, gently slapping his arm. “Don’t be weird about it.”

“Charming and weird are the two words I’d use to describe me, though. But, yeah, Swan, I’m glad you didn’t marry him. I’m glad I didn’t marry Milah. Things tend to work out for the best.” The small, shitty band that’s playing in the corner of the bar shifts tunes to a slower song, one he doesn’t recognize, and an idea pops into Killian’s mind. “So now that feelings have been shared,” he croons, standing up from the stool and holding out his hand toward Emma, “will you do me the honor of allowing me to have this dance?”

Emma arches her brow once more, something she might as well do as often as he does, but the quizzical look doesn��t match the grin on her face. “What if I don’t know how to dance?”

“Well, darling, I know for a fact that’s not true since we just danced in a high school play together for a month, but even if it was, luckily for you, you have a partner who knows what he’s doing. So, come on, let’s go.”

She hesitates, but it’s only for a moment before she’s placing her hand in his and rising from her stool, the two of them going to the half-empty dance floor. It’s more swaying than dancing with how close Emma is standing, one of her hands wrapped around his neck while the other is intertwined with his and resting on his chest. His free hand is on her hip, fingers itching to dip lower, but he doesn’t. He won’t.

Not yet.

Not until Emma steps more into his space, the curves of her body aligned with the lines of his, and he can feel the way her heart is beating in her chest. Or, really, that might simply be his.

“Emma,” he hesitantly whispers. Her lips are close enough to his that he can feel his mouth move over hers when he talks, but it’s not enough. He’s kissed her before, and that definitely wasn’t enough. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, she tilts her head up toward his and hesitantly brushes her lips over his, staying still until his mouth responds. In reality, her lips feel the same as they did every single time they had a moment like this on stage, but it’s different. It’s different in the way that she moves against him, in the way that she tugs on his bottom lip and on the way that he tugs on her upper one. It’s different in that there is no acting here, only honesty in the soft and gentle movements that have him sighing into her mouth.

It’s different in that this is truly Emma kissing him, and in the three years that he’s known her, he never could have imagined this. And if he did, reality is so much better.

When they pull back for air, he can feel the smile on Emma’s face as their foreheads press together, and he’s sure that she can feel the giant grin painted on his lips.

“You all good, Emma?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, kissing him again, “except it’s very weird for you to taste like rum instead of toothpaste.”

Killian barks out a laugh before moving his hands to cup her cheeks and smile down at her. “I like you, Emma Swan.”

“Funny thing, I like you too.”

Monday morning, Killian pulls into the parking lot with Emma in his passenger’s seat and her hand resting on his knee.

They never picked up her car on Friday night.

When they get engaged a year later, Belle wins the betting pool on when the two of them would get together. Apparently, both the faculty and students started it on Emma’s fourth day of work at Storybrooke High.

Talk about a modern-day fairytale.