#getting assigned an essay on what kind of person he wants to be and immediately bailing on homework to go hang out with his uncle

[brionysea]

I'm watching into the spiderverse again before i watch across the spiderverse again and the way things are immediately recontextualised

[babacontainsmultitudes]

🤔 Admittedly I was a little disappointed by the reveal (but certainly not surprised the foreshadowing was heavy in this episode lol), but not actually against how Beth (and Will) seem to be playing with it thus far- which is to say that I do think it has a lot of potential, and I suspect there's more to what we're seeing).

;) Big ol' ramble below

Mostly the theory has turned me off until now (at least insofar as I've witnessed it transpire in the fandom at large) because it struck me as so painfully ironic to see Trudy, a 1950s housewife, struggle to exist under the system that she's in, fail to fit the mold assigned to her, and be denied her personhood very literally for it (this being ironic insofar as how it mimics how she would have been treated back then). This and because frankly I just think she's a lot less interesting if she's fully a robot LOL, but I'll hopefully get to that in a bit.

Not that the hints at her mechanical nature and the relevance of Tucker's background were lost on me; I can appreciate why those would contribute to a plausible, fun and I think still mostly harmless theory (now fact). However, minus one or two specific posts I've seen on the matter (namely a recent one suggesting that if Trudy is a robot Beth is probably taking inspiration from The Stepford Wives, :( sorry person who made that post I couldn't find it I wanted to credit yoouuu), I've seen the theory just about exclusively presented in a manner that, rather than explore the metaphorical and political significance of Trudy being partially or fully mechanical, at best disregards the parts of her narrative that are at their core about sexism (among other related things), and at worst negates them entirely (i.e. Trudy only thinking and acting how she does because she's a robot malfunctioning and not because the world itself is causing harm and she rightfully wants something more than the role she was forced into, Trudy not even having any real thoughts and feelings of her own, etc.). I just think it kind of sucks to shove all those important things about her aside and say "actually, there's no person suffering here, she's just a robot" and perhaps worse yet to imply that she does have thoughts and feelings but because they result in Weird™ behavior it must be a problem with her code and not at all relate to what women were subjugated to during this point in American history.

CONVERSELY I don't think Trudy being a robot (or at least partially one) at least from what Beth and Will have presented us thus far, inherently suffers from any of these issues? First and foremost because Trudy definitely appears to possess sentience, thoughts, and emotions of her own, matters which immediately complicate her degree of personhood and don't inherently box her behavior in as a bug in her programming rather than an issue with the world she's been put in, quite the opposite in fact! I think they have a very solid groundwork laid out here to make a strong statement with Trudy's narrative (and perhaps ask the question of what is really malfunctioning here), all the more so since [I pull out a Rebecca Swallows-style conspiracy board] I don't think she's entirely robotic in nature? Actually you should just read Mack's tags in this post cause he has great thoughts on the matter (of which those are just some of them), but if I can direct your attention to one thing in particular, it would be Beth's fact (I *believe* from episode 2) about Trudy never graduating high school because of her essay where she suggested that "perhaps women could one day domesticate themselves", a statement that could of course be interpreted a number of ways but ultimately threatened the patriarchal status quo enough (in suggesting women's independence) to cost Trudy her diploma. Taken on its own this fact appears to contradict the theory that Trudy has always been robotic in nature, because it doesn't really make sense that Trudy would have been set up to go through high school (or school at all really) when Tucker's intention was/is for her to be the perfect housewife. You may then suggest that Trudy's memories of this are fabricated and not actually her lived experiences, in which case firstly perhaps you should reread my earlier point on the robot theory being used to actively negate and otherwise disregard the portions of Trudy's narrative that pertain to sexism and feminism, and secondly it really doesn't make any sense to me that Tucker would implant those kind of memories into Trudy's brain? To be completely honest if she's been a robot from the very beginning (rather than someone who became a cyborg, which is what I'm trying to suggest here), then I don't see why Tucker would program her with actual sentience in the first place (suspending my disbelief here with regards to the possibility of programming sentience to begin with). It seems much more likely to me then that Trudy was not always a robot, and instead altered by Tucker to force her into a role of subordination and remedy her """imperfections""". This option is significantly more interesting to me one, because it implies that Trudy has actually lived a life up until the present, full of its own complexities and strife (and dreams, and real actual memories worth exploring, etc.), and hence is not by any means "just a robot", and second because it amplifies the hypothetical statement being made on the lives of the real living women of the era and how they were treated and seen as being "in need of fixing" for not conforming to gender roles or otherwise acting "out of line" with what was expected of them.

OKAY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND SO I'M CUTTING MYSELF OFF HERE but I wanted to my share my current thoughts what with this ending and where I'm at so hopefully that was at least interesting to whoever has chosen to read through this one okay thank you byyyyyyyyye~

[if-you-like-pina-colada-s]

You've probably read a million high school/college AU's and maybe some middle school or kindergarten ones. Regardless, you've seen the Hetalia characters a students. But what would they be like if they were teachers? Here's what I think...

Hetalia characters and what kind of teacher I think they'd be:

America: He's the kind of teacher that's generally pretty chill, except due to that, he gives the most gut wrenching "I'm very disappointed in you guys" speeches. And he's actually a very busy teacher who is diligent, so he doesn't take easy to students who slack off and expect to pass by doing absolutely nothing. But he's one of those teachers who has buddy-buddy type conversations with students.

Canada: He's a sweet and very understanding teacher. You can tell from the first day of class that he's super approachable. He keeps a well organized class space with very straight forward boundaries. He's blunt and honest but he's nice about it. He stays extra hours after school incase anyone wants tutoring or maybe just wants to hang out even.

France: His classroom is definitely very decorative and pretty. He likes to feel comfy. Not a huge fan of boring assignments. He likes creativity and will actively do what it takes to get all students participating. Don't think you can sit in your little emo corner by the window because he will ask you to speak up about what you thought about your classmates presentation. Also he pays a lot of attention to his students, so he notices when someone's having a bad day and is willing to chat with them.

England: He is very orderly and quite strict. He's the kind of teacher that says "today we're gonna do a fun assignment" and then proceeds to assign a 5 page essay. He loves what he teaches but more often than not the students don't share the same sentiment over the subject. Students tend to think he has a personal vandetta against them, but in reality he doesn't. He just wants you to be self-disciplined because he genuinely cares, but it tends to come off as "I just want to fail you".

China: He's strict. He doesn't play games. Don't think you can get away with ass-kissing or trying to play teachers pet because unless you actually do the work, you ain't passing. He's one of those old teachers that knows every trick students could possibly try to pull. And by the same token, he's that old teacher that never gives up on a student. He will do what he can to teach you what you need to learn, even if it's the last thing he does.

Russia: Every student on campus is terrified of him. His assignments are not easy, he is not shy about assigning tough work. But he's always in his class (yes, always) so if you don't go in to ask for help that's on you babes. He will actually take the time to explain it one step at a time. He's also just happy to have company during his lunch time. And he really appreciates little gifts, he's the teacher that never throws away gifts from students that have graduated years ago.

Japan: He's not the most talkative or loud teacher, but he still knows how to demand students attention, even while keeping a calm, unbothered face. And he has a quiet voice, he is not afraid to "raise" his volume if necessary (I say "raise" cuz its more of a harsh berating tone). He is very kind, and he explains things very well the first time. He's strict on due dates and punctuality though. However, he's more lenient on other things (as long as you show respect to him, of course).

Germany: He's scary. First day of class he immediately gives a speech about how he will not tolerate any bullshit whatsoever. (I imagine him giving the spiel he gave at the world meeting in episode 1.) He has a small but very well enforced set of rules. The basics: just show respect and do your work as expected. You will learn that if you try your best, he will give you grace and understanding regardless of the result. He's pretty generous, really, just don't be a lazy ass.

Italy: He's perky and preppy and ready to start the day, every day. Even if he arrives right before the bell rings. He's a teacher of few rules, but don't take advantage of that. He will put his foot down eventually, for he can only let things go so far. He always wants to help and will be there for you if you need to talk, but disrespectful behavior will have consequences. If you decide you want to chose that path, he's happy to let you have enough rope to hang yourself with.

Alright, that's all I have for now. Feel free to comment! (Do they sound like any teachers you've had?) I can always add more to this because, lowkey, I could use a teacher AU for a change. I've seen enough Hetalia characters as dumb high schoolers. Also, who would be your favorite if they were your teachers?

[riordanness]

the way i loved you - percabeth

4.0K wordcount

warnings: rivals to lovers,, fast burn?,, cringey writing,, mortal au

requested: no

- Percy -

I slid into my seat on Monday morning. We have assigned seating in nearly every class now (it definitely wasn't mostly my fault) which was pretty annoying, but at least I wasn't sitting near anybody I hated.

Well, I mean...

I glanced at the classroom door. Annabeth Chase stood in the doorway for half a moment, quickly scanning the room with her bright grey eyes. She spotted me, and immediately pretended not to.

Annabeth Chase and I were lifelong rivals. We'd grown up together and everything, but she was a pain, and I'd disliked her since I first met her at seven years old, when she'd demanded I play house her way, and when I'd refused, called me a stupid boy who didn't understand rules.

Now that we were in high school, we were even bigger enemies. We had the exact same timetable, and we were always in the same classes together, which was so annoying.

I rolled my eyes as Annabeth deliberately sat down at the front of the class. She was such a show-off in class, always putting up her hand to answer every question. And she always had the right answers! It was infuriating.

I decided to sit at the desk beside her. I could annoy her more if I sat right by her. There wasn't much in life I enjoyed more than being able to utterly infuriate Annabeth Chase.

She shot me a hateful glare as I sat down, but I just smirked at her in return. She groaned, rolled her eyes, and looked away from me, fixing her gaze on our teacher, Mr Day.

I laughed to myself as I studied her annoyed expression. Honestly, aggravating her never got old.

- Annabeth -

Ugh, Percy Jackson was going to be the death of me. I seriously could not get why he was so insistent on aggravating me. I mean, yeah, we were rivals, always had been, but he never ever stopped! I wouldn't mind having a break from constantly being his enemy. I might even like being his friend, but I knew that was completely out of the question.

I firmly put Percy Jackson out of my mind, and focused solely on our assignment the day: Things I Like Best. Why that was our assigned essay title, I had no idea. I mean, we were seventeen year olds. We weren't eight.

I raised my hand. "Uh, Mr Day?" I asked. "I'm very sorry, but I got distracted in class the other day; why exactly are we writing this essay again?"

Mr Day sighed a little, but since I was pretty much his star student, I think he forgave me.

"Well, Miss Chase. The things we like and dislike shape who we are. I want you guys to really dig deep into your personal likes and dislikes and discover what kind of person you are. Got it?"

A few kids were shaking their heads, a couple were falling asleep, and the idiotic sporty boys (*cough* Percy *cough*) were all goofing around.

Mr Day seemed to deflate a little. I sympathised with him. Teaching high school students must be on of the hardest jobs out there, honestly. I could never do it. Some days I could barely stand being one of the students!

"Well... alright... Miss Chase, what is your favourite song?" Mr Day asked, peering at me from over his steel-rimmed glasses.

I hesitated. I thought about my dad, and his favourite song. 'Mrs Jackson' had been his favourite song for as long as I could remember. Whenever I listened to it, I could picture his smile.

"Mrs Jackson," I replied.

Percy glanced at me, his eyebrows raised in slight, mocking curiosity.

I glared at him, embarrassed, thought I wasn't sure why. "Not you, Seaweed Brain. Ugh."

Percy smirked, tried to hide it, and failed. "Uh, sure thing... Wise Girl."

I went red, from embarrassment, hate, or anger, I wasn't sure. I turned aside and tried to ignore him... and my burning cheeks.

"Well, um, yes," Mr Day said, running a hand through his dark hair. "Now, why is that your favourite song, Miss Chase?"

I paused, but not for long. "It's my Dad's favourite song. It- it reminds me of him."

Mr Day seemed pleased. "That's lovely, Miss Chase. Now, that like is a part of shaping who you are. A girl who is close to her dad."

I tried to keep a straight face. Close to my dad? I didn't even know where he lived anymore. I'd run away at the age of twelve, and never looked back. I lived in a mixture of cardboard boxes, bridges, and people's doorways. I didn't even have a home.

No, I wasn't close to my dad. I just missed him, with all my heart. But I know he hadn't wanted me back then, and he wouldn't want me any more now, either.

But I obviously wasn't going to tell Mr Day any of that. I put on a smile, nodded, and put my full attention on my notebook, writing furiously.

At one point, I was gazing into space, trying to think of the right way to put a certain word into a certain sentence, when I realised I was staring at someone. Namely; Percy Jackson.

He was looking at me with a smug expression. An eyebrow raised. A smirk played at his lips. His infuriating smirk, always on his mouth. It was adorable, but I hated it. Hated how I liked it.

I rolled my eyes at him. "What are you looking at?" I asked, pouring as much sarcasm into my words as possible.

Percy's other eyebrow joined the first one. "You're the one staring, darling."

I gritted my teeth. He knew how much I hated when he called me that. What he didn't know was the reason I had then it. I hated the way it made my insides crawl with delightful butterflies, hated the way I wanted him to call me that again, more than anything.

Even though Percy knew I hated it, he did it anyway. I hated that boy more than anything. He was infuriating, awful, disruptive, aggravating, gorgeous... gorgeous?

What was I thinking? I shook those thoughts away. Percy Jackson was on my blacklist. I was never going to go there. Not ever.

"Jackson," I said sweetly. "I will never willingly stare at you. In fact, if you had half a brain, you'd probably realise that since we are in class, I was simply trying to think, and was staring into space, not realising a person was there."

I sat up straighter. "Also, you know I hate it when you call me names like that. Please do not."

Percy smirked. "Sure thing... darling."

I groaned, and slumped forward on the desk. There was no hope. Percy Jackson was a pain, and he always would be. I supposed I would just have to try my best to deal with him forever.

- Percy -

I laughed quietly to myself as I watched Annabeth lay her head on her arms. Percy: one — Annabeth: zero.

I stared down at my paper. There was three words on it. I groaned internally. I guess I'd fail this class too. Whatever. In my opinion, writing essays on who you were deep inside was not going to help me with my life. Like, at all.

My thoughts wandered. Back to what Annabeth had said earlier. Her favourite song... "Mrs Jackson". Not gonna lie, when I heard that I think I genuinely had a brain malfunction for a second. I had to double check she didn't mean, like... me and her. Luckily, she hadn't.

And then I'd caught her staring... huh. Biting the end of my pencil, I considered that. Did Annabeth have a crush on me? Surely not. She was always so mean to me, and I was mean to her, too.

Still... you know what people say: if a boy is mean to you in school, he probably likes you. Now, I was definitely not interested in Annabeth. Not even a little bit. But maybe that rule applied to her in this particular situation? That could be the reason she was mean to me.

I was just mean in response to her. I never really started it. At least not like half of the time.

I honestly wished we could just get over this stupid rivalry, I thought. I was sick of it. Why couldn't we just be friends now? I was almost seventeen. This childish thing we had going on was getting a bit old.

Maybe if I tried being nice to Annabeth, she'd see that it was getting to the point of ridiculousness, too.

- Annabeth -

The end of the school day was finally here. I glanced in my backpack, quickly taking stock of all of my supplies. I had two sets of clean clothes, my school books, my phone, about $20 in cash (I was trying to save that for an major emergency though), a water bottle, and a few bags of snacks.

I had three granola bars, two chocolate bars, an apple, and some trail mix. Enough to last me three, maybe four days before I needed to get more food. Five days, if I really stretched it.

I headed to the local library as soon as the bell rang. That was where I spent most of my afternoons. I could charge my phone, do my homework, relax, and just be in a safe place for a few hours.

When it shut, however, was the worse time of day. When I was forced back out into the streets.

It was growing dark. I shivered, and pulled my jacket around me tighter. All my usual sleeping places were either taken by animals, trash bags, or other homeless people, and I was struggling to find a dry place to lay.

Usually I opted for doorways with little archways over them, or bridges with those little platforms underneath. I couldn't find a single one.

After it had grown fully dark, I found myself wandering the streets of Upper East Side, Manhattan. I decided to just choose a random apartment and hope for the best.

I passed a slightly familiar dark blue Prius on the side of the street, and walked up the apartment it was parked nearest to.

I curled up on the front steps, pulled my hood over my curly blonde hair, wrapped my jacket tighter around my thin frame, and closed my eyes.

- Percy -

I woke to the smell of freshly cooked pancakes. Even better, they were my mom's blue, chocolate chip cookie pancakes. I jumped out of bed, pulled on my jeans and a blue T-shirt, and rushed into the kitchen.

"That smells amazing, Mom!" I grinned.

"Thanks, honey," my mother replied, giving me one of her beautiful smiles. "How did you sleep?”

I shrugged. "Yeah, good. Hey, I wanted to ask your advice on something."

Her eyebrows raised in question.

I nervously tapped my fingers against the bench top as I watched her pile a stack of pancakes on a plate for me. "Uh, well... you know Annabeth? Annabeth Chase?"

My mother nodded.

"Well, I'm sick of being enemies with her. I honestly want to be friends. This whole rivalry thing is getting on my nerves. I don't enjoy teasing her anymore. I mean, she's... ugh, I don't know."

I hung my head, biting my lip. "You know?"

My mother looked amused. She poured me a glass of orange juice. "Percy, honey, if you want to be her friend, I think you should just start by being as nice as possible. It's likely she'll retaliate for a while, but you never know. She might melt, and you guys could be good friends."

I nodded slowly. "Thanks, Mom. You always know exactly what to say." She honestly was the best person in the world.

She smiled. "You're welcome, Percy. I love you. Now eat up, and get ready for school."

I nodded, and dove into my pancakes with relish. (I mean, with pleasure. I didn't actually have any relish).

- Annabeth -

I woke to a gruff man standing over me. "Get off the steps, you hooligan! We don't need your lot sleeping on our front porches! Get lost!"

I stumbled to my feet, fingers closing alright my backpack, and I scrambled off the steps. "S-sorry, sir," I stammered, backing slowly away. "I didn't- I didn't mean—"

"Away with you!" was the only reply.

I bit my lip, turned, and hurried away, brushing the tears away with the back of my hand.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and glanced behind me. In a window of the apartment, on the third floor, a boy stood for a moment. And, I'll be damned, but I could've sworn it was Percy Jackson.

Percy Jackson...

Our rivalry had gone on so long I couldn't even remember how it had started. Honestly, it was so long ago, why were we still fighting? This endless war between us was slowly but surely pulling me down into the depths. I felt exhausted and depressed and so, so sick of being alive.

I honestly wished we could just be friends now. Surely I could give it a try? It couldn't hurt. He might even agree with me, and say that it was high time we were friends.

I set my jaw, straightened my shoulders, and headed to school.

- Percy -

I stood at my window for a few seconds, staring out at the city of New York. My eyes flitted down to the street below me. A homeless looking girl with blonde hair and a green backpack was being moved on by a guy I knew lived on the second floor.

Hmm, blonde hair and a green backpack? I squinted hard, I couldn't quite be sure, but— I could've sworn that girl was Annabeth.

I shook my head. Surely that couldn't be right. But then again, as I thought about it more, I'd never heard anything about where Annabeth lived. She'd never told me, and, well, we weren't really friends or anything. We barely ever talked about anything personal. We just argued and bickered and fight most of the time.

I blew out my breath, glanced down at my feet, and headed downstairs. It was time for school, and I didn't want to be late again.

I arrived at school the exact moment the bell rang. I was out of breath from running all five blocks to get here, but at least I wasn't technically late.

- Annabeth -

I let out a long sigh, clutching my schoolbooks tight against my chest. I shivered once in the cold, then stepped inside the school building. Once again, I had to be here. Once again, a day of hell.

I could do this, right?

I quickly came to the conclusion that, no, I really could not do this. I constantly felt like curling into a ball and covering myself with a blanket. Oh, and crying. I definitely wanted to be crying.

I hurried to my first class, Geometry. I didn't exactly dislike the subject, I just didn't find it particularly engaging. I was sure it could be made more fun for the students, and one day I hoped that some reached someday took the time to actually make it that way.

I reached the classroom door just as the bell for first period rang. Thank goodness I wasn't late.

Pushing open the classroom door, I quickly scanned the available desks. Only two were free, one double desk, and a single beside the girl I only knew because she was the weird 'theatre kid'. The one who always sang aloud during class, wore dozens of rainbow-coloured bangles on her wrists, had coloured streaks in her hair, and thought anyone who did not participate in Drama was a total loser.

Yeah... I wasn't sitting with her. I did not have the mental energy to deal with that today at all.

I slid into the double desk seat, sitting against the wall. I leant my shoulder a little too heavily on the white plaster, my head suddenly pounding. My temples throbbed.

Every part of me ached.

Ached with exhaustion. Pain. An ache I couldn't identify. I was craving something I couldn't even name.

- Percy -

I walked into my first class. The first thing I noticed was Annabeth Chase. She was sitting at her desk, her forehead resting on the wood. She looked like she was in pain, and it suddenly saddened me to realise that no one in the classroom had even noticed.

I slid quietly next to her on the double bench chair. "Hey, you okay?" I asked, keeping my voice soft.

Annabeth straightened quickly, almsot in fright, as if she was used to people startling her. Her grey eyes was glistening, I think with tears. "What?"

I gave her a concerned look. "Are you okay?" I repeated.

She started to nod, but then slowly stopped, and shook her head once. "Not really..." she whispered. I was immediately worried about how awful her voice sounded. It was slightly raspy and tight, like she was trying her hardest not to burst into tears.

I chewed my lip. I wasn't sure what to say now. I hadn't really expected her to reply, at least not that.

"What do you need?" I asked.

Annabeth stared down at her stack of workbooks. "I'm not sure I should be talking to you about this."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Look," I sighed. "I'm really sorry about the way I've treated you. I took the teasing a little too far and I'm really sorry about that. Can we start over?

Annabeth hesitated. Then, she nodded. "Okay."

I smiled. "Okay. Um, so what's wrong?"

Annabeth glanced towards the front of the room, but the teacher hadn't yet noticed we were talking. That was when I realised Annabeth was sitting at the back of the class. She never did that.

"So, um..." Annabeth twirled a pen between her fingers. "Well, basically... I've been homeless since I was twelve, and... it's getting harder and harder to deal with lately."

I blinked, stunned. When I finally got my voice back, all I could manage to say was: "Oh, gosh, Annabeth... I'm so sorry."

She shrugged one shoulder. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now. My dad didn't want me. I was the result of something he really wanted to forget, so I was a constant reminder of what he'd done. So, when I was twelve, I... I just left. I knew he wanted me gone, so I've been living on the streets ever since. But it's... it's fine."

I shook my head adamantly. "No. That's... gosh, that's awful. You are coming to stay with me and my mum tonight. Actually, for as long as you need."

She met my eyes. "Percy, I... I can't let you do that."

"Nonsense," I insisted. I had the idea now, and I wasn't going to let her change my mind. "It's no trouble at all, and we've got a spare room in our apartment. I promise, it's fine."

She bit her lower lip, thinking. "O-okay. Thank you, Percy."

I smiled a little. "'S okay."

She finally managed a small smile too. "That means a lot. Really, thank you."

- Annabeth -

"Are you sure your mother won't mind?" I asked for what must have been the millionth time.

Percy chuckled. "Yes, Beth, I'm sure."

"Beth?" I asked incredulously. It was a new nickname, something no one had ever called me before in my life. But... I liked it.

He paused. "Oh, sorry. Do you hate that nickname?"

I considered it. "No, I actually kinda like it."

"Okay," he said, grinning. "Good." He continued up the front steps of his apartment building, the same building I'd slept under last night.

"So it was you looking out at me this morning!" I exclaimed suddenly.

Percy looked at me. "Yeah, I guess so. You were the girl outside.

I nodded. "Yeah."

Percy looked a little grim. "Okay, come on up. I'll introduce you to my mum."

Percy's mother was the best person I'd ever met. She was so lovely and kind to me, literally treating me like a daughter of her own from the second I walked in the door.

She immediately took me under her wing, washing me and lending me some of her old clothes to change into.

"Hmm..." Sally said. "I don't seem to have any tops your size, honey. You'll have to borrow a few t-shirts or hoodies from Percy until we can get you some of your own."

I nodded. "Okay. I really appreciate this, Ms Jackson."

"Oh please." She waved me off. "Call me Sally."

"Okay. Thank you Sally."

"You're welcome, Annabeth. Anytime, you hear?"

"Alright."

Percy poked his head through the door. "Here you go, Mum." He handed us an armful of shirts and hoodies. "Hope some of those fit."

He disappeared, and I found myself staring at the doorway, daydreaming a little.

"Okay," Sally's voice brought me back to the present. I blinked. Sally was watching me, an amused expression on her face.

"What?" I asked.

Sally smiled. "Here you are, dear." She passed me a shirt and hoodie, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

I slipped off the dressing gown she'd lent me, and pulled Percy's t-shirt over my head. It was a little big, but that didn't matter. I added the hoodie, and ran my hands through my hair. It wasn't too messy, so I just tied it back with a hairband and headed out into the lounge room.

Percy and Sally were waiting. When I entered the room, Percy stared at me for a moment.

"What?" I asked nervously.

He blinked. "No, nothing."

"Okay..." I shifted a little. "Thanks for the clothes."

"You're welcome."

I smiled. "Um, and thank you both so much for letting me stay here. It's honestly the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time."

Percy's eyes darkened. "It's no trouble at all, Beth."

Sally gave us a both a look I didn't understand, then grabbed her keys and wallet off the bench. "Well, I've gotta go buy some groceries. You kids be good." And she was gone.

Percy and I stood in silence for a few awkward minutes. "What you wanna do?" Percy finally asked.

I shrugged. "I don't mind. You can choose."

He picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. "What kind of movies are you into?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I haven't seen many movies," I replied. "You can choose, I don't mind at all."

"Honestly, I love Disney movies," Percy admitted. He turned on Tangled.

"Fair enough," I laughed. "I haven't seen this in years."

Percy shot me a smile, and my heart gave an unexpected flutter.

I smiled back a little uncertainly, then focused on the TV screen. Halfway through the movie, though, I felt my eyelids starting to grow heavier. I tried to stay awake, but exhaustion suddenly flooded me. My eyes closed, my head dropped, and I fell asleep.

- Percy -

Annabeth suddenly dropped her head onto my shoulder. I glanced at her in confusion, then realised she was asleep. Trying not to wake her up, I shifted ever so slightly so she would be more comfortable, then gently lay a lap blanket over her.

I tried to focus on the movie, but her gentle breathing kept distracting me. After a while, I realised I was watching her more than I was watching the movie.

I clicked off the TV, glancing again at Annabeth. She shifted in her sleep once, but that was all. A strand of curly blonde hair fell in front of her face. As carefully as I could, I picked it up and tucked it behind her ear.

Suddenly, without thinking about it, I leant forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Beth," I whispered, and smiled.

[lunarmote]

Revisiting Suicide Room (2011)

Watch the same movie at age 12, 19, 25 - you'll react to it differently.

Two nights ago I watched a Polish movie with my art school friend S called the Suicide Room (Sala Samobójców). I’d seen this movie before about 5 times. The movie is about a gay high schooler called Dominik who gets "outed" by his former friend in an embarrassing public accident, is made the laughingstock of his class, and spirals into a depression. He seeks refuge in an online VR game where he meets a depressed girl who seems to understand him... As the movie goes on, he gets more sucked into the virtual world and loses touch with the outside world.

It's a film that seems to have gained a bit of a following in certain circles. It's criticized for the same drama that its followers praise it for -- depicting what it's like to have teenage depression. And all at once I am puzzled by this supposed "charge" against the movie: that it's melodramatic. The fact that there seems to be such a clean divide between older people calling it over-the-top and funny, an exercise in teens taking themselves so seriously, and teenagers idolizing the characters for being true-to-life, indicates to me this movie IS effective at highlighting some kind of bridge in preferences or empathy.

What does it mean for a film to be overdramatic?

I mean, this isn't the first teen movie to be called sentimental, melodramatic. As for myself, the film has lost the poignancy it once had but I am still incredibly fond of it.

This was my favorite movie as a teenager. At age 14, I begged my mom to be homeschooled. My overworked single mom panicked - a straight-A student threatening not to go to school was unheard of. The school administration freaked, set up "counseling" sessions where all they could do was talk glibly, soullessly, about the importance of education.

I remember watching Suicide Room that night and telling my mom I was perfectly willing to write a 5-page essay on my own on how the film was so beautiful and truthful and that if all English assignments were like this I would have no problems with school. I learned so much more through empathizing with the characters of Dominik and Sylwia than I learned through any school assignment. (It's interesting how this film works - it distracts you from your own pain by convincing you to, for an hour and 30 minutes, sympathize with another person. You come into the film wanting vindication, but you come away from it feeling like you lost a friend. I wanted to save Dominik.)

The fact that teenage angst seems to be near-universal, and the fact that adults eventually overcome it (I'd argue they don't actually, as many adults seem to be living in some kind of low-grade feelinglessness) doesn't suggest to me at all that the pain teens face is out of proportion, or that teens lack "perspective." It suggests rather, that perhaps adults have lost the memories of what it's like as a teenager, or they have lost sympathy towards that time of their life, since many people seem so embarrassed by their high school selves they try to scrub clean any memories of them.

I guess I can talk a little more about the main character in the film, Dominik. He is an entitled, condescending, sheltered kid. He nonetheless has a deep desire to connect with another human being. In the depths of his pain he turns to Sylwia who at first seems to be the provider of psychological support (and this time around, I picked up on this more strongly) - Dominik's redemption lies in the fact that he was willing to sacrifice himself to alleviate the pain of someone he thought had it worse than him. But his deepest flaw was not realizing that he had it worse.

Isn't that what happens? Your immediate environment fails you so you turn to the Internet. You find a community. You're led there by your own pain but you stay because you empathize with others' pain. But to break free of the pain means to break free of community.

A very clever scene exists in the movie. Sylwia is using Dominik to get herself pills so she can overdose. Torn between the threat of her hate and his fear of losing her to suicide, he talks to his psychiatrist through the closed door of his room while being in a voice call with Sylwia. The psychiatrist doesn't realize his answers have the double intention of showing Sylwia that ultimately, he will do as she wishes (get the pills), but not without stating his piece. He says he doesn't want to die. He doesn't understand suicide. His voice strains and he starts tearing up as he speaks to both - he doesn't understand how people who commit suicide could do that to their loved ones.

I've always wanted to stay up all night with Dominik. As a teen I wished I could pause the movie and jump in-universe and get through to him somehow, before the fatal incident. I told him I would stay up all night with him and we could just talk about, you know, life and death and beauty and our willingness to live, because sometimes you just need a friend.

So the film is dramatic. That’s what it takes to save a life.

[igotanidea]

The Raven's daughter: Morpheus x Matthew's daughter part 6

previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Part 6

This is one of those days.

The day when y/n feels overwhelmed with simplest task, getting out of bed seems like a challenge and going to work require the same amount of energy and motivation as climbing the peak of the highest mountain. From the very morning it seemed like the Murphy law will be the sponsor of the upcoming 24 hours. Everything that could fall from y/n hands, fell and broke, she was tripping over her own feet, the bus was late and to make it all worse, when she was crossing the street to get to the campus some asshole run right through the puddle drenching her pants in water. y/n was exhausted but inside it all the rage was slowly finding its way towards the surface. It was only a matter of seconds before explosion.

-Damn it! – she yelled entering the faculty room. She didn’t sleep quite well that night. Obviously she could just ask the Lord of the Dreams to help her, but considering that he would probably brag about it for the rest of the existence she stopped herself. To make those sleepless hours worth something she tried to work on her novel but her brain refused to work. In desperation (and maybe in some masochist reflex) she found herself browsing the pages for writers. This only made her more frustrated. There were so many talented people out there. The ones that truly deserved some fame and recognition. Who was she to even try and compare herself with them? Maybe her time has already passed, she achieved nothing and she has no right to teach? Maybe this feeling of incompetence will stay with her forever in a form of lump in throat, guilt and hopelessness? Y/n groaned and shut her laptop. Maybe she could try and do some paperwork instead. She had a stack of essays on her desk, assigned to the student about a week ago. It was highest time to check them and write some feedback. She reached for the first one, but was not able to focus. y/n felt like banging her head against the wall. Nothing worked for her nerves. Yes, nerves, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Finally, she just laid in bed, eyes closed, waiting for the morning too come. Unfortunately, so far it was no better.

- Hey, y/n! – a fellow teacher greets her cheerfully but immediately backed up seeing her mood – Woah, what’s with the attitude?

- Oh, don’t even get me started! – she pointed at her wet pants – Can I just go home and fall sick? I don’t think I am myself today.

- Cheer up, I got spare pair in my cabinet. Seems like you need them more than I do now.

- You want me to wear your pants? Not that I’m complaining, but….

- No buts! You don’t really have much time till your class so get yourself together and take what I give you. Or rather what I’m going to give you.  – with that words the friend takes from the room in order to gather the clothing.

The point was, that Kat, the chemistry teacher, was nothing like a stereotypical scientist in trench coat. To give her justice, she was the most colorful person at the university, both faculty and students considered. She loved wearing pink, red, yellow and neons, that made her distinctive. One thing for sure, no car would ever hit or wet her since she was practically a street light, visible from a distance. Kat was also a great fan of embellishments of all kind – sequins, nail heads, you name it. Having that in mind, even if she chemist was the closest thing y/n had to a friend, she was quite scared of what may be handed to her as a emergency pants. In her imagination she already saw some sort of circus knickerbockers or something equally crazy.

-Here! – Kat was back surprisingly quickly – this is the best I could find on such short notice.

-This is… - y/n hesitantly looked at what was handed to her - … not so bad, actually. – the simple pair of slightly wiped black jeans, quite adequate for a teacher. – That’s new. I never knew you could own something so simple, Kat.

-Please. I have bad days too, I’m only human. Now, be quick and meet me at lunch, I got a proposition for you. The one that you simply cannot refuse – Kat blows a kiss towards y/n and run for her own lecture.

-Why does everyone insist on speaking riddles to me! – y/n annoyance came back and she was forced to take a few deep breaths to calm herself down. – Head in the game, girl, head in the game – she spoke to herself heading towards the classroom hoping for full auditorium.

However, it seemed like someone up or down really made it his purpose to make this day a disaster. y/n heart dropped when she spotted only a few yawning students, as sleepy as she was. Feeling her spirit barely float above the ground she addressed the present.

-What happened? Where is everyone?

-Absent, professor.

-Well, I can see that – y/n spats – sorry, I suppose I’m not the only one who’s already struggling through the day. – she shook her head – you know what, there’s no point in having this lecture when there are only so little of you. You can go home or … do whatever else.

-But won’t you get in trouble professor? – one of the girls asked

-Why would I? No one showed in the classroom and everyone’s an adult. This class is not obligatory after all. No one will be chasing you or me. – with such assurance the students had no further inhibitions to skip the lecture, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to call the class off – y/n thought to herself feeling the overwhelm coming again.  She still has an hour till lunch break when she was supposed to meet with Kat and had absolutely no idea what to do with that time. Knowing well enough her brain was functioning on some other frequency, the only way to deal with it was to get involved into something stupid just to kill the time. y/n was never the person to get addicted to her phone or any other electronic device, more of a book lover, but desperate times call for desperate measures. She reached for her smartphone and headphones to escape reality, but apparently someone else needed her more.

-Professor y/l/n, do you have a minute?

-Sure – y/n sighed – what is it?

-I heard you called off the classes, so I thought maybe I could use that extra time for some consultation?

-About what? A book? A novel?

-Some history stuff, actually.

-History? – y/n looked at the student with confusion – And I’m the one you decided to ask for help. No offense, but we have other teachers competent in that area.

-Well…. To be honest, I asked professor Gadling first, but he bustled me off to you.

-Really? That’s quite unusual. Is the subject so specific he had nothing to say about it? He seems like a hotshot to me.

-He is, but apparently had too much to do – the students look down – so, will you help me professor – using the most obvious trick with big, glistening eyes he added – you’re the only hope left for me.

-There’s no need to be melodramatic, is there? – y/n motioned him to a chair – what’s troubling you?

-You, professor. – the students smiles mischievously

-I’m sorry? – y/n raises her eyebrows in confusion – you should not speak to me like that. I’m your teacher after all. A little respect would be nice.

-You are not my teacher. However, I can most definitely teach you something about your future which is now connected with my brother’s.

-What? I don’t understand a thing of what you’re saying. Wait – a wave of realization hit her – you brother? Do you mean…. Dream?

-I do.

-Who are you exactly – y/n move in front of her desk crossing her arms in anticipation.

-I have many names, but you may know me as Destiny.

Destiny. – the girl repeated in flat voice. – Awesome. Are you here as some sort of messenger?

Destiny’s face expression did not falter in the slightest. God, he’s so serious. Almost like his younger sibling.

-You should not mess with an Endless calling me that. I am no messenger, human.

-I’m sorry – y/n sighed again – I did not mean to offend you in any way. I just… My life has been kind of crazy lately.

-I know. I know everything. And I’m here to give you a warning that it will be crazier. You should brace yourself. There’s a journey ahead of you.

-A journey? What kind of journey?

-I can only tell you as much as I told my brother.

-Wait… he knew?

-Yes.

-I knew he was holding something back from me. What kind of journey are we talking about?

-The one that will fill some blank space from your past. Questions will be answered and you will be different than now.

-Is there any point in asking you any more questions?

-No.

-Well then, thank you for the heads up Destiny – she rolled her eyes but became sad the next second – I don’t know if I’m strong enough to meddle with my past.

-You are.  You shall find soon enough how much power lies inside you.

-You just barely met me. How do you know that? – she looks up at her student.

-I know – he repeated and a shadow of smile lingered on his lips – you are much more than you think yourself to be. And for some reason, I believe in you, y/n y/l/n. I will watch over you to the very possible extend.

-Why? Why do you care about me?

-I have a feeling about you, y/n. We shall meet again – with those words he rise from his seat and moved towards the door – You are now under my protection.

-That really does make me feel special – y/n grinned – the Destiny’s protégée. It has a nice ring to it, can’t lie. Does it mean I have a connection with you as well as with Dream?

-Not the same kind, but yes, you can call it like that. You humans have a puzzling habit of defining things.

-Nah. That’s just something I do desperately trying to keep my life together.

-Goodbye, y/n. I’ll see you soon.

The girl just nods her head, serious expression on her face. She sensed that this is all she will get from Destiny so decided to just roll with what was coming her way. One problem at a time. Her visitor disappeared behind the door and when she looked after him the corridor was empty, as if nothing happened. y/n would probably think that she imagined it all if it wasn’t for a single sprig of myrtle laying on her desk. What is the meaning of this –she wondered taking the plant in her hand and examining in it carefully.

-Professor?

-Oh, god damn it, what now? – she spat and spun around annoyed.

-I’m sorry – the poor girl cringed.

-No, I’m sorry. That was way harsher than I intended. Can I help you with anything? -she strenously calmed herself down.

-Actually, I’m here to deliver a message. The dean wishes to see you, professor. He said it’s an urgent matter and he doesn’t wish to be kept waiting.

-Thank you, I shall see to him immediately.

***

-Professor y/l/n. All things considered, it is always a pleasure to see you. – dean Winchester motioned for y/n to sit down behind the great, oak desk and sat down on the opposite side.

-Thank you, dean. But… all things considered?

-I’m pretty sure you realize this is not a social call.

-I do, sir, but with all due respect – did something happen?

-y/n – dean slightly moved forward. Using my first name – y/n thought – that’s highly unusual­ – let’s be serious. You called your lecture off. Do you think that was within your power? You should have asked for a permission from me first

-I….. – the girl started, quite perplexed – who told you? – I’ve got a mole amongst the students – a single sentence crossed her mind

-Doesn’t matter. And let me finish. You’ve been acting strange for the last couple days. Is everything all right?

-That is not the word I would use, but I’m figuring things out.

-I;m really glad to hear it. Unfortunately, I can’t pretend that this didn’t happen. That was unprofessional and exceed of your prerogatives, professor. Hence I am forced to punish you, though I take no pleasure in that.

-Sir, if I may – she chimed in – barely a few students showed up on the lecture. My classes involve discussions and brainstorms therefore just a couple of participant is not sufficient for classes to be effective.

-I understand that. Given your perfect track record and highest ranks in evaluation I don’t intend to be harsh on you. You may treat it more like a warning, like a ….

Punishment for example? – she looked down intertwining her fingers to stop her hands from shaking.

The dean did not bother to answer that, just looking at his most prominent lecturer with mix of care and worry.

-y/n – he spoked softly causing the girl to look at him again – is there anything you wish to tell me?

Yes. Yes, of course. I;ve just recently found that my father is a Raven, I have some sort of connection with anthropomorphic personification of a Dream and I am under some sort of protection from analogic personification of Destiny, who happens to be his brother. Right, I want to tell you all about it. And then end up locked up in a psychiatric ward. I wonder if that’s something that was destined for me too.

-No. There is nothing of importance.

-I like you y/n/, but I cannot let my sympathy affect my objectivity. Professor Gadling will take your classes for the next three days. Consider this as forced leave of absence. Take care of your matters. I wish to see the same y/n/ I knew for the last two years back, do you understand?

 -Yes sir.

-Good, now go. Have your lunch and think about what I told you.

y/n stood up and rushed out towards the faculty cafeteria where Kat was already waiting for her, pacing in anticipation.

@marvelsmylife

@wickedly-grim

@mind-of-a-girl

@thereeallink

@lisacarolined

@boofy1998

@endlessdreamqueen

@mikariell95

@shadowluna25

@sippysthoughts

@kaoriloveskeiff

[l3m0ncyan]

New to Life | Chapter 12

MoonKnight System x Hispanic! Teen! Reader

Warning: kind graphic (?) not really but its quick

Masterlist

Next Chapter

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

It's been four months since Y/N saw the dark figure that one night. She hasn't seen it in months, and she hopes the person doesn't cause her any problems. She was finally gaining control of her life and didn't want to deal with any new issues.

She continued to attend her college classes and became accustomed to college life. Y/N was familiar with the various paths on campus and knew her way around.

Although she hasn't been late to work in a while, when she is, Mania is there to assist the two in getting to the museum. She sometimes uses this power simply to be early. Aside from moving around, she had her first (lonely) study session and finals. She hasn't made any friends even though she believes shes an interesting person.

She and Mania have grown accustomed to each other over the last few months. Mania kept its promise to let Y/N live her normal life, and Y/N promised to keep it fed. By fed, it meant only chocolate items and maybe one or two people per month.

This did kinda anger Mania but it just accepted.

She was surprised that Steven and Marc had not discovered her secret while dealing with Mania. There were times when she and Mania argued, and it could be heard from outside the apartment. Typically, these arguments would revolve around Mania nearly getting them arrested on campus or wanting to kill more people than promised.

Like once, when Y/N handed in her assignment to her professor, he gave her a disgusted look after reading a portion of her work. Y/N wanted to grab him by the collar and slam him against his desk. She didn't, for obvious reasons, and began to walk away.

Mania, on the other hand, did not hesitate and began approaching the professor from Y/N's shoulder. She looked back, feeling a tingly sensation, and saw Mania making its way over. She would immediately grab Mania's neck and pull it back. Mania would return to the body after struggling with the minor battle.

Thankfully the professor was too busy reading Y/N’s research essay that he only gave her a weird look for her burst of energy.

"I don't like him either, but we don't kill people just because we don't like them!" Y/N grumbled outside the classroom, where no one else was.

“We should add that to the list of people”

Reasons like these would cause the two to argue loudly in their flat, causing Marc or Steven to come and check on Y/N. She'd justify it as an angry phone call with her family or her frustration with her homework. They'd just nod and say to take breaks or deep breaths.

After they leave, the two would then argue about them being almost caught.

“See! If only you had kept quiet about today, they wouldn’t have come!”

“If you had controlled yourself back on campus, maybe we wouldn’t be arguing right now!”

In December, Y/N decided to celebrate Hanukkah with the boys. It was difficult because Marc didn't seem to like the idea at first, but after she surprised them with the blue and white apartment, he changed his mind.

Y/N's family FaceTimed her on Christmas to wish her a Merry Christmas. Her siblings planned it because her parents refused to speak to her still, even though it has been months since she was filmed.

Speaking of which, that video was soon forgotten.

She got to talk about what she's been up to in London on FaceTime, not to mentioning the whole Egypt trip and battle with the gods.

During the call, she was thankful that none of her siblings tried to bring up her powers since she still wasn’t ready to talk about it. Plus they'd only get worried and probably want to visit her.

Yes, she may have fantasized about being a superhero with superpowers. She'd imagined herself sitting above the family, and they all looked up in awe. But how could she be proud of something so monstrous? She was growing fond of Mania, but not of its tendencies to kill every living thing.

Her parents said a quick "Feliz Navidad, cuidate" before hanging up. It hurt her a lot because they usually spoke to her more softly, but this was harsher than usual.

It was understandable though, who wouldn't be angry at their kid for going off to some random country and then hiding a superpower. Personally, she wouldn't, she would first want to know if her child was safe and sound. Still, with parents like hers, they parented differently

Still, walking back into Marc and Steven's house relieved the pain and thoughts of her family back home.

Speaking about the boys, she has gotten closer to them.

It became second nature to talk to them about any problem she encountered. Whether it was about college or relationships, one of the two was always willing to share sound advice.

Like now.

Steven was sitting on the couch, a book about hieroglyphics in hand. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as he focused his gaze on the pages below him.

Today was his day off from the gift shop, and with the weather being chilly, a good book and a cup of tea sounded like the perfect way to spend the day.

A knock came on his front door as he flipped a page, and he knew who it was.

He smiled to himself and set his book and glasses on the coffee table. Making his way from the center of his flat to the front, he opened the door to reveal his friend.

Y/N was dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. He could see beneath her eyes that she had spent the entire previous week studying and stressing over her final exams.

“Yo, can I come in?” She gestured to the inside of his apartment.

He nodded and moved to the side to allow her to enter. She started ranting as she was making her way to the couch.

“I got a fucking low score on a test dude” she plopped down on the couch.

Steven made his way to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea for Y/N, knowing she would need it.

"Well, that's unfortunate; was the text difficult?" He drained the contents of his tea kettle into a white ceramic mug.

"It was, but only because the professor didn't even teach us what was going to be on it."

Steven walked over to Y/N, handing her cup before sitting next to her.

“Hmm, does this mean you failed the course?”

"I mean, no, but I still got a low score," she shook her head. "Others got higher scores"

"As long as you passed the course, that's what matters," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "besides this is your first quarter, don't stress too much on it. I'm sure you'll ace the next one!"

Y/N scoffed, “Maybe, what if I don’t though…”

“But you will, don’t lower your expectations. I believe in you, now drink your tea before it get cold"

Steven took a sip from his cup, and Y/N followed suit. She felt the warmth spread from her chest to her stomach, removing the chill from the outside world.

"You know, I never believed in tea and its effects, but yours is different," she shrugged, taking another sip.

“That’s because you haven’t tried a British one”

The conversation continues, the stress of earlier leaving Y/N's body and being replaced by comfort. It was a benefit of Steven and Marc's apartment.

The phone then buzzed in Y/N's sweater pocket. When she took it out, she saw that Layla had sent her a photo. When she opened the message, she saw a selfie of Layla with some buildings in the background, most likely somewhere in the Middle East.

“Oh look at her, she hasn’t changed since we last saw her” she smiles.

“She texts you?” Marc who just switched in asks.

“Yeah, she doesn’t?”

Marc hesitates and shakes his head.

“Dang…that’s crazy” she says almost sarcastically.

Marc returns his gaze to the coffee table, "Makes sense, I've hurt her too much, so why would she try talking to me?"

Y/N stares at him with worry and sighs, “Have you ever tried talking to her?”

“…no”

"There you have it, that's why. If you haven't tried to find her, she may believe it's because you don't want to. You've got to break that loop, dude," she says to Marc.

He breathes in, “How would I do that?”

“Text her once in a while. It can be a ‘How are you?’ Or ‘How’s the Middle East?’”

Marc gives a hum in response, nodding his head.

"God, when did I get advice from a kid" He groans.

"When you asked me to go to Cairo with you"

"You whined that you wanted to go"

Marc thanks her after a brief moment of silence. Y/N smiles and enjoys their time together.

“Also, I might be intruding but when me and Steven first met her, what were those papers for?”

“…the divorce papers I sent her”

"Oh, did you guys ever finalize them?" she asks, surprised.

He shakes his head.

“Figures. Y’all didn’t want to huh?”

Marc raises his brows, puzzled, and asks, "What do you mean?"

"First and foremost, none of you signed the documents. Then there's the question of why. You two are still in love." She grins wide.

“You think Layla still likes me?” Marc said quite hopeful.

"Duh, the way she looked at you in Egypt, plus if I were her, I would have tried to kill you or wouldn't even want to work with you. Also said a lot back on the boat to Mogart's. You almost had a romantic kiss." Y/N leans back and crosses her arms.

Marc can almost feel his face heating up but clears his throat, “Maybe you were seeing things wrong”

"Nah, I see what I see," she smirks, "but for real, you two should fix whatever you've got going on."

Marc nods, and the two depart from the subject. He brings up the case on Harrow, still trying to figure it out. They then discuss possible suspects in the death of Harrow. The majority of these are thought to be Ennead gods.

But for Y/N, she recalls the figure from the previous night. Perhaps it was one of the gods, but which one? She can't even tell Marc and Steven because they'll ask what she's up to late at night. That, or they'd be more on guard, refusing to let her take Mania out for late-night snacks.

Speaking of late night, there have been more and more deaths popping up. Usually at night, which freaks Y/N out more. She doesn’t know which one is better; a serial killer or a villain. A serial killer you can find and just lock up, but a villain usually can’t be stopped.

Calling it a night, Y/N said farewell and walked out of the boys apartment.

-

Her apartment had changed a lot. She was able to buy more decorations for her home with the extra money she earned from her job. Like a bed frame.

It was one of her greatest purchases yet.

Setting it up, on the other hand, was time-consuming, prompting a call to Marc and Steven for extra help. The two sat on the floor of her living room, trying to figure out if the pieces they had put together were correct. It took them about 3 hours to complete the task, but they succeeded.

She removed her shoes and placed them on a small shoe rack near the door, as well as her bag on a hanger. She let out a relieved sigh as her feet could finally stretch.

“Finally! I am hungry!”

"My bad; I didn't think we'd be over there for that long," Walking to the kitchen, she opens the fridge to find a slice of chocolate cake from the museum's New Year's Eve party. "Cake or candy?" she asks, looking over her shoulder at a pile of chocolate bars on the counter.

“I thought chocolate would be our last choice if there was no bad guys. But there are many on the news!”

“…So cake or candy?”

Mania grumbles, “You are not listening to me, I want to be free!….cake”

Y/N hums and removes the plate with the piece of cake on top. She places it on the table and takes a seat. Mania soon surrounds her and grabs the cake with its bare hands. It eats the large piece in one bite and licks its teeth.

“We should go out tonight! Bad people always come out at night!”

“Sounds like you want to be a vigilante or something” Y/N says from inside Mania.

“What is that?”

Y/N took a second to think but nothing came into her head, "...I really don't know how to explain it"

Mania shook her head and walked over to the counter to get more chocolate. It took the entire bar in its mouth after unwrapping it and walking to the couch. Mania sat its feet on top of the coffee table that Y/N had thrifted and watched television.

A small buzz was heard on the couch and Mania looked over to Y/N's phone. With its long clawed hands, it raised the screen up to view.

On the Lock Screen, it showed an email from the professor she was berating earlier.

Good Evening Ms. L/N,

Regarding your exam from last week, I've noticed a few mistakes on my part. I sincerely apologize for this. Could you please come in today at 7 p.m. in the lecture hall to discuss the grade?

Thank you

Professor Lumbridge

Mania handed control to Y/N and returned to her body. Y/N held the phone up to her face, checking to see if she was reading it correctly. It sounded suspicious, and her intuition warned her that something was wrong.

She checked the email to see if it was an official university one, which it was.

“What do you think?” She asked Mania.

“I say we should go, you have me, so if there’s trouble I can come in”

Y/N nodded, “True, plus if it’s a bad guy, you might be able to get more food for the night”

“Yes!”

"And if it's true, my GPA will look good...yeah let's go" Y/N stood up and walked to the front of her place.

Because it is 27 degrees in London, she put on her zip-up with her jacket over it. She put on her boots, took her bag, and opened the door. When she came to the long corridor with the ugly green carpet, she turned around to make sure the door was and remained locked.

"Are you gonna tell them?"

Y/N blinked and looked over to Steven and Marc's door. Staring at the gold numbers that were on it.

She considered it but decided not to annoy them with something as simple as this; they are now normal. They have no powers. Also, if Mania was needed, she didn't want to reveal her secret so soon.

With the ding of the elevator, she walked in and soon descended to the ground floor.

--

The campus was dark, with only a few light posts and lit windows from buildings. Most likely a professor working late at night. The cement was wet, with a few puddles here and there caused by the rain.

The cold encircled Y/N, forcing her to hug her jacket closer to her body. Her hands were frozen, and the tip of her nose felt as if it didn't belong on her because it was so cold. She dashed to the lecture hall where her professor had instructed her to meet.

It wasn't a far walk, about five minutes from where she walked in. The building stood there with pale bricks supporting it.

Expecting the front door to be locked, she was surprised to see it swing open easily. She peeked in trying to find her professor but she was nowhere found.

"Mrs.Lumbridge?" her feet slowly walked her into the building, letting the door close behind her.

The lecture hall was big, with many rows of seats leading down to where the professor would teach and point to the whiteboard. The floors were covered in red carpet and the walls were a cream white but with it being dark inside, they seemed grey.

The only thing being illuminated was the small stage with the podium towards the front of the class.

Y/N walked further down, feeling the warm atmosphere of the room warm her back up.

"This doesn't feel right"

"Definitely, maybe we should just leave," she said as she turned around and began to walk back up until she heard multiple footsteps behind her.

The hairs behind her neck stood up, and her heart began to beat fast. She was utterly creeped out.

When she turned around, she saw a group of men standing nearby. She began to back away as she examined each one.

"Alright…well, I think I walked into the wrong class, so if you excuse me, I'm just going to head out," she said as she turned around to try to walk away as quickly as she could but was met with another man's chest.

"Can't happen, you have to come with us" one spoke up and gestured to another to grab her.

"I hate men" she muttered

The man who was called nodded and approached her, ready to grab her. However, before he could even touch her, her arm turned black and linked itself to the man's arm. It soon bent the arm backward, causing it to break.

The man let out a bloodcurdling scream and held onto his arm. All the other men tensed up and drew their guns.

"Bad guys"

"Yup and they're all yours" Mania then took over and won about a few feet in height over the other men.

"What the hell is going on?" A few of the men screamed, and gunshots rang out. Of course, Mania's skin was not penetrated, resulting in all the bullets falling to the floor.

Mania then lunged at the men, grabbing them and throwing them against the wall. Some attempted to attack from behind, but Mania would quickly bite their heads off.

Mania took them all out one by one. With the number of screams and gunshots coming, Y/N was surprised that no security arrived. Whatever the case, Mania got the job done quickly.

Many bodies surrounded it, some of which had missing limbs or heads. Y/N then returned to her normal self and looked around at the corpses. She became nauseous not only from the sight but also from the smell. Her head was filled with the odor of iron and gunpowder.

"Damn you overdid it, you couldn't have tried eating them whole or something? What if we were caught?" She covered her nose with her arm.

"But we weren't"

"Yeah, well let's get out before we are" she walked over the bodies, trying to make her way to the exit.

"You think it's late to get food at this hour?"

"I ate, so it shouldn’t”

"The one time I’m glad you did, I'll probably get those onion rings from that one place by the corner" She looked down at her shoes and noticed a bit of blood.

"Man and I thought puddles would be the ones to ruin my shoes," she frowned as she attempted to wipe the blood on the carpet.

"Behind you!"

Y/N turned around fast and saw one man still standing, running towards her with a knife.

"You bitch!" His eyes were crazed out and filled with rage.

Suddenly he grunted and fell back before she could let Mania handle it. Y/N looked at the man's body, hoping he wouldn't get up, but he didn't.

She approached him, wondering if he'd had a heart attack or something. She noticed something glistening over his chest as she looked over his body. She leaned in closer to inspect it and noticed something stuck in it.

Her eyes widened as she took in its shape. It was a crescent dagger.

"I'll be damned"

A man's voice was heard from behind her. She spun around and saw the same glowing eyes from months ago staring back at her.

They got closer and Y/N stood in a defense position.

"I hope you're ready" she whispered to Mania.

Before Mania could get control, the light from the front of the room lit up the figure's body as it came close.

"What?” Y/N breathed out.

White armor covered the figure's chest, knees, shins, and forearm. The rest of the body was covered in black fabric. Aside from that, it wore a white long hooded cape that concealed its face, leaving only the white glowing eyes visible.

This person was the same one from Cairo, the one who beat the crap out of Harrow.

"You're ‘not’ Marc" Y/N declared

"My name is actually Jake. Jake Lockley," His suit then vanished, leaving behind the body of Marc and Steven, who had been renamed Jake. He was wearing a flat hat this time.

“And I see we have met before” he looked down at her.

He had tense body language like Marc, but he gave off a more violent vibe. Jake's eyes were nowhere near as soft as Stevens'. They had a more intense stare that almost gave Y/N goosebumps.

“Okay, Jake Lockley,” she almost mocked his name, “Why are you here? We’re you trying to kill me? Also why do you have the moon knight suit? Do Marc and Steven know about you? Who-“

He shushed her and gestured her to be quiet, “Calladita se mira bonita, mija”

He walked up to one of the corpses on the floor, past her. He knelt and examined the body to see if there was anything he could use that would help him. Since he had gloves on, he didn’t hesitate to touch the body.

Y/N blinked a few before deciding to turn to him, “Wait, you know Spanish?”

Jake ignored her and continued checking the body. Y/N huffed and walked closer to him, kneeling to his level, across from him.

“Don’t be ignoring me, I got questions”

"I got questions too, like that superpower you got, but right now my main one is who these guys were," he continued, looking inside each of the body's pockets. His Spanish accent was noticeable and almost like her fathers.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get him to talk, she decided to help. She grimaced as she realized it meant she would have to touch a dead body. Using only her pointer and thumb to move parts, she felt herself almost throw up.

Without looking up, Jake uttered “Andas amarilla, just let me do it, I don’t want you throwing up all your DNA onto a crime scene”

She ignored him and kept searching the body, going through each pocket and feeling if it may have something hidden.That was when she noticed the sleeve revealing something on the man's wrist. She rolled up his sleeve to see what he had.

Her eyes widened once again, wider if it was possible.

The man had a tattoo of the same scale she had grown to memorize months ago. “Look,” she gestured to Jake.

He took a look at it and raised a brow, “Harrow's cult”

She wasn't expecting praise, but it would have been nice. He got to his feet and wiped the blood on his jacket. He had a black jacket and a white button up underneath, so the blood was very noticeable. When Y/N looked at hers, it was clear to say she didn't have any so no wiping was needed.

“Alright let’s go” he made his way out of the lecture hall with Y/N catching up.

“It’s weird how I met you and Marc after a fight,” she commented and walked beside him, feeling the cold air once again hit her.

He stayed quiet and only stared straight ahead. He didn’t seem interested in the conversation, or her. He pulled out something from inside his jacket and Y/N thought it would some cool device he had.

Instead it was just a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and put it between his teeth as he took out his lighter. Once lit, he inhaled and let out a large cloud of smoke.

“You smoke?”

“You always curious?” He grumbled.

“Yes, now why do you think the cult is coming back?” She walked beside him.

Jake thought for a while before speaking, “Who knows, maybe they want revenge. To do that, they are probably targeting you in order to get to us”

Y/N furrowed her eyes, thinking of who was ‘us’.

"To get to me, Marc, and Steven," he sighed, sensing her confusion. "Mas para esos pendejos. Still, I thought I killed Harrow, so I'm curious who else could-"

“Wait you killed Harrow?” Y/N exclaimed.

Jake immediately hushed her, “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“I knew it, that’s why I would see them leave at night”

“You knew? And you never thought of telling me?” Y/N whispered.

“I didn’t think it would be that important”

As Y/N groaned at Mania, Jake gave her a side glance.

“How did you get that power?” He inquired.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, “You still haven’t answered my question”

“You asked about Harrow and I answered”

“My question is about you, not Harrow”

Jake rolled his eyes and gestured her with his hand to ask her question.

“Why did you have the moon knight suit on?” She looked at him.

“Khonshu cut the contract with Marc and Steven only, not me. So I still have the moon god powers” he replied quickly, “Now how did you get yours?”

“Khonshus back? Is he here right now? Does he-“

Jake cut her off and waved a finger, “Eh, eh, my turn remember”

She groaned and told him how Mania had transferred into her body after she attempted to go late-night grocery shopping. She thought it was a simple tentacle power, but it turned out to be a talking symbiote.

“Por pendeja, why did you even go late night shopping?”

“Pues como podia saber eso iba suceder?, still why do you hide from Marc and Steven?”

For some reason, talking to Jake was becoming infuriating, especially with him having more vocabulary than the other guys.

“They don’t have to know about me, I only act when they are in danger or if Khonshu needs something done when he knows Marc won’t do it”

Jake takes another inhale from his cigarette and blows out into the night air. That same cloud falls onto Y/N, which she tries swatting away.

"That's kind of sad, you never got lonely? In theory, if you've been with them since, you've never had the chance to talk with them. You never had them tag along like they do with each other"

Jake stayed quiet, not responding to the statement. It took a while before he replied how he never felt lonely, that they only held them back. That it was best he didn't interfere.

He continued to smoke until he dropped what was left of the bud on the floor and stepped on it. Y/N took a small glance at it before looking back at him.

“…Why we’re you at my school?” She finally asked.

"I followed you because I wanted to see if you were the monster that they talk about," Jake replied after a few seconds of thought. "Also, I had a feeling you'd get into trouble, so I guess I was right on both counts."

“So you were there mostly to protect me...?” she tried piecing it together.

Jake didn't care whose turn it was to question the other person at this point and decided to just answer her questions. Particularly since she had more than he did.

"I only protected you because I knew Marc and Steven would be destroyed if something happened to you. That would interrupt my routine and help stop me from going to work."

It made sense to Y/N because this man was only just getting to know her and didn't seem to want to know her more than he did now. His only mission was to do exactly what Khonshu told him to do.

The two made their way to the street, and Y/N was trying to get to the bus stop on autopilot. When she looked behind her, she noticed Jake wasn't there. Jake whistled at her to get her attention, and she noticed he was walking away from both the bus stop and the apartment. He motioned for her to follow him.

Confused, she did as she was told, “The bus stop is that way”

“I don’t do buses” he said and continued walking along the street.

He took out keys from his pocket and pushed a button. A cab ahead was beeping and blinking its headlights in response. Jake walked over to the driver's side and opened the door.

“Come on” he gestured his head to the passenger door.

Y/N stared at the vehicle with an open mouth.

The cab was long and white. The windows were tinted black, and she noticed the license plates said 'SPKTR'. Marc's last name, Spector, was a play on letters.

She scoffed as she stepped inside the cab. The seats were red leather and extremely comfortable. The dasher was completely black. It smelled like black ice, which surprised her. Based on Jake's behavior around her, she expected it to smell awful and like cigarettes.

When Jake started the car, the radio started playing soft music. That's when he started driving back to the apartment. Y/N just stayed there staring at all the buildings that passed by. She was no longer riding next to strangers this time, and she was finally at comfort.

"Where was this when we were late for work?" she asked, looking over at Jake.

“You mean when you and Steven were running late. This is just for me” Jake replied.

Y/N huffed and turned back to the window.

Only light music was playing in the background during the car ride. She touched the window and noticed how her body heat fogged it up. She drew her hand back and continued to stare at the moving buildings.

—

The two were close to the apartment building after about fifteen minutes. Jake pulled over to the side of the road and finally said something.

“Don’t tell the other two about me”

“If I do?…” Y/N slowly turned to him.

"If you do, I'll have Khonshu curse their memory," Jake said as he gripped the steering wheel. "They won't remember you, which I know you don't want."

She was expecting a threat to her life, but not this. This threat, on the other hand, terrified her. She didn't want to live in a world where she couldn't communicate with the two. It hurt her to think of them passing by on the sidewalk like complete strangers.

“…okay”

“Good, now get back into your flat” he unlocked the door.

She stepped out of the car but paused seeing that he wasn’t coming out. She bent down to the window and looked at him.

“Aren’t you coming too?”

He shook his head, “I have things to do, remember our deal”

Y/N bit her cheek and nodded. She made her way to the front doors of the building. When she opened the door and looked over to Jake, she saw him drive away.

Frowning, she made her way up to her apartment.

-

"I don't like him!"

The day began with Mania ranting and declaring its hatred for Jake Lockley. This wasn't preferred for Y/N, who hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. She stayed up thinking about how she was now a part of some cult plan, and how she had to deal with a new alter who was ruder than the others.

This time, she couldn't even turn to Steven and Marc for advice because they were already worried about Harrow's killer, and their friendship was in risk.

"I know, he annoyed me too but oh well," She opened the fridge to take out a gallon of milk.

She walked over to the dining table where she had a bowl of dry cereal on top. Pouring the milk inside, she went back to put the bottle back inside the fridge.

"How dare he?! He threatened us and expects us to keep his secret?!"

"Technically he only threatened me, I don't think he grasped the fact you're uh, well have a personality," Y/N said before biting down on a spoonful of cereal.

She was still in her pajamas since it was Saturday and she thankfully had no work shift. Steven however did and was probably now having to deal with Donna alone.

"He threatened you which means he also threatened me! We come in a package!"

"Okay, okay. Well, what do you want to do about it? First, we have to worry about that cult trying to get me" She finished her bowl of cereal and went to put it in the sink.

After, she went to the couch and sat down. She took the remote control into her hand and started to flip through different channels. Mania then appeared out of her shoulder and looked at her.

"Then let us go investigate!"

"I'm studying nursing, not forensics, so I don't know as much about investigating as the next person." She returned her gaze to the television screen after looking at Mania.

Mania grumbled, “You know I don’t know what that means. Either way, you’re just sitting here like a potato while we could be saving the world”

"Okay, then tell me what we'll do once we get there," Y/N said, pausing what she was watching. "Because who knows, whoever is trying to get me might be waiting over there as well."

It took Mania a second to respond. It didn't know how to investigate either; it was honestly so riled up by Jake that it needed to blow off steam somewhere.

Y/N wouldn't lie either; she was annoyed that whoever was attempting to kidnap her saw her as an objective. Still, after the performance she and Mania put on last night, the next group may be stronger and better prepared.

A heavy knock from the door cut the two’s conversation. They both looked over and were slightly confused. Y/N pulled out her phone to check the time.

1:49 pm

Steven didn't come out of his shift for another couple of hours. 

Y/N stood up and approached the door with caution. Mania had already returned to the body, but it was keeping a close eye on things. She saw a man and two officers behind him through the peephole. The man had dark skin, a khaki overcoat, and his hair was buzzed except for the top. He continued knocking with a hand inside his pocket, then looked up at the peephole.

Y/N immediately backed away, feeling anxious. She recalls the last time she and Steven had to deal with cops. They weren't even the men in blue; they were just people who pretended to be while they were in a cult.

“Y/N L/N?” The man loudly said, “Are you home? I have a few questions only”

Y/N was already on the verge of panic, due mainly to her excessive overthinking. What if they were the cult and they were out to get her? She could just have Mania deal with them. But what if they were actual police officers? She couldn't just murder people who were simply doing their jobs.

“L/N, are you there?”

The knocking became more persistent and Y/N was still frozen in her own confusion. 

“They're not the cult”

“How do you know?” She spoke in a whisper, feeling as if the man outside could hear.

“They aren't being defensive”

A new voice popped from behind the door, most likely one of the officers, “Open up!”

Her earlier anxiety had been replaced by a sense of embarrassment. The neighbors were probably looking out their door to see what the yelling was. Maybe they were now spreading rumors about her, as well as about Steven.

Hesitating, she went to open the door.

The man in the coat was taken aback when she opened the door and revealed herself. After a brief awkward silence, he returned to his serious demeanor and cleared his throat.

"You must be Y/N, I'm Detective Chantel, may we come in?" He brought his badge out and showed it to her.

She glossed over it and remained silent. The three piled in, gesturing for them to come inside. The officers searched the apartment while the detective remained behind to speak with Y/N.

"Who were you talking to earlier?"

Y/N quickly looked back at him after staring at the officers walking through her place, "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I heard you whispering when I was trying to have you open the door for us" He crossed his arms and stood high.

"Oh, well I was talking to myself"

"Oh? About what?"

"I mean as you can see I live alone," She quickly waved her hand to the whole of the apartment, "and I'm a young woman in this weird world, so I simply thought you might have been an intruder"

The detective lets out a quick 'hmm' before continuing, "You don't get many visitors?"

"Is that why you're here?"

He shook his head, "No, I am actually here to talk about an incident from your university"

"How did they find us?!"

Y/N continued to act, "Really? Did someone try mugging someone again? I swear London has been coming up with more crime-"

"A group of men was slaughtered in a lecture hall, one that seemed to be a place where you were supposed to meet with your professor through email. One that was sent around 5:45 last evening?"

Y/N gulped, "What the hell? I mean yeah I got that email but I didn't go because it felt sketchy"

"I see, where were you last night?" The way he said it was much more serious

"I was studying the syllabuses for my classes"

He quickly jots down the information on his notepad and continues, "Do you live alone?"

"I just told you I do"

"That email, it wasn't sent by your professor, we checked. Do you know anyone who might have wanted to get you back? Maybe you made someone angry?"

"I haven't interacted with anyone from school so I am pretty sure no one is after me" Y/N crossed her arms

Except for that fucking cult she thought.

"One never knows"

The investigation continued and Y/N was becoming irritated. Many of the questions were already answered before or were weirdly worded. Plus she was still in her pajamas, so it was sort of humiliating.

It lasted for about thirty minutes until she finally said enough.

"Okay, well this is great and I appreciate your effort to stop the murderer but I am tired and just want to go back to watching tv yeah?" Y/N finally stood up from the couch where their talk was moved to.

The detective stood up as well and looked down at Y/N, "Why the rush?"

"Why are you making me out to be the big murderer? I can't even run a lap without gasping my ass off, so what makes you think I could take down a group of men?"

"You college kids get new drugs each month, maybe one gave you an enhancer"

Y/N scoffs and shakes her head, "Yeah right"

Detective Chantel looks at her and sighs, putting his notepad away, "Look, I'm not here to freak you out but whoever sent that email to you was targeting you for who knows what, but its bad"

Y/N didn't say anything but stared at him.

"Don't go out late at night and lock your doors. I have a daughter your age, and I can't imagine her being in a situation like this"

Y/N nods, "Right, well don't worry about me, no offense to your daughter, but I know how to use pepper spray"

She said it with humor to try to lighten the mood but the detective didn't seem to be liking it.

Y/N guided their way out, with the detective handing her his card in case anything suspicious popped up. She nodded and closed the door after.

Sitting at the couch, she stared at the white piece of paper with the black ink words written on it.

"Are you gonna ask that guy for help?"

Y/N paused for a moment before tossing the card onto the coffee table. "Definitely not, he thinks it's just some ordinary guy, but I'm sure it's not."

-

Four o'clock came and went, and Y/N was cooking dinner when the doorbell rang once more. She sighed and set down a wooden spoon she was using to stir the soup in a pot.

She eyed the peephole, wondering if it was the detective or if the cult was finally here for her doom. Fortunately enough, it was Steven who probably just got off of work.

Steven marched inside once she opened the door, not saying a word and heading straight to her tv.

"Hello to you too" She trailed and closed the door.

Walking to where Steven was, she eyed how he switched through the many channels on the television. He finally got to the one he was looking for and began pointing at it.

Y/N looked at the screen displaying a news outlet. A woman held a mic close to her chest as she spoke to the camera. Behind her was a scene that seemed familiar to Y/N.

"Last night, ten men were brutally murdered inside one of King's College's classrooms. According to reports, several of the bodies are missing limbs or have been decapitated. A custodian discovered this horrifying scene in the early hours of the morning. The investigation is still ongoing, and we will keep you updated."

The screen then displayed many of the said bodies covered with white tarps.

"The way those men died, was the same way the men from the store died" Steven was unsettled by the news with the way he couldn't even blink as he stared at the television.

She didn't say anything and only listened to him.

"The thing we saw at the store is starting to wreak havoc and is attacking random places now I don't know where it could hit next but I don't want it to be somewhere where either of us is" He tried to say everything at once as his worry consumed him.

He kept rambling and fumbled with his hands as a way to cope with the stress.

Y/N finally spoke up, "Steven, we'll be fine okay? And I'm sure if we ever cross paths with it, I can defend us"

Steven's body tensed up and Marc switched with him, probably due to his stress.

"What if you can't? What if it comes and attacks you when we're not there?" Marc drew his arms across his chest, "We fought together and we had each other's backs. You've never fought on your own before so what makes you think this time will be different. This monster is completely different from a jackal"

"I can defend myself, so don't worry about it. Plus I have been practicing-"

"It doesn't matter if you've been practicing," he slightly raised his voice, "Promise me that if it comes your way that you call me and Steven"

Y/N was taken aback by how serious not only did Marc sound but how Steven reacted to the news. Marc stared at her, trying to see if her next answer will come out as a lie or the truth.

"... I'll call you guys if I'm in trouble, I promise" She breathed out.

Marc's shoulders seemed to relax slightly and he sighed, "Good,"

It was silent which made things awkward. Their argument seemed to have shifted something in the atmosphere with the way they just stood straight. Would she even call this an argument? It ended rather well instead of someone storming off.

"Well," Marc broke the silent stage, "You said you were practicing, show me what you got"

"Huh?"

Marc was waiting for Y/N when her mind went blank. It had been a long time since she had done those extra moves to get her powers moving, but now it was just a question for Mania. It was awkward trying to get a tentacle to come out, but if it worked back then, it can still work now.

Y/N stood tall and breathed in.

"Ok, I am going to stretch out a limb and pick up the couch" She made sure Mania understood her.

"We share the same mind, you do not have to talk like that"

Mania followed the instructions and stretched out a limb over the couch after stretching her arm out. It formed a claw on it and effortlessly picked it up. Y/N would rotate her hand to indicate the rotation of the couch.

Marc stared at her as she placed the couch back down in its respective place. The two stayed quiet for a second.

"See, I still have control" She crossed her arms triumphantly.

"...You looked constipated when you were doing it" The corners of Marc's mouth quirked up.

She glared at him, "Fuck you, but I was able to do it so hah!"

Marc stood quiet and gave a simple nod before Steven took the body back, "Still, promise us you will be careful"

Y/N gently smiled and held a hand up, "I swear I will be careful"

He returned the smile and seemed more relaxed than he was earlier.

"Hey so I made dinner, soup to be specific, want to try it?" She flicked her head towards the stove.

Steven smiled, "That would be lovely"

Y/N served Steven and herself a bowl, placing them on the table. They sat across from each other, taking in the dish's warm flavors. Steven complimented Y/N, saying it was exactly what he needed after a long day.

"Speaking of which, what have you been up to?" He looked up from his bowl.

Police officers and a detective came by because of what I and Mania did last night

"It was for good reasons"

"Uh, you know I never really ask about you, how was yours?" She took in a spoon of soup.

"Oh, well that's different...I guess it was rather boring, the customers being difficult and Donna being even more. Thankfully, Marc helped somewhat"

"Marc was ringing customers in?" Y/N said rather amused.

Steven nodded, "And he was setting up the displays, not eye-catching, but he got the job done"

"Does it matter? People are still going to mess it up"

"Yes, it does matter, not only because it looks nice but if it doesn't Donna would talk my ear off" Steven rubs his ear as he thinks of his manager yelling at him.

"Can't blame him, it is his first-day working" Y/N shrugged.

Feeling offended, Marc came through, "Hey, who said it was my first time working?"

He took the spoon from the bowl and tasted the broth, "Pretty good"

"Oh, so you worked in retail in your young days huh" She teased and plopped her elbows on the table.

His forehead wrinkled with the comment, "Funny, no I went to the military around your age" he waved the spoon at her.

"Once we came to London, I had to do side missions for Khonshu but with Steven still not knowing about me and not wanting to get him fired, I had to do some of his shifts," he continued as he ate from the bowl.

Y/N listened closely, "So you have been doing it for a while...and that means when you did that, Steven was blacked out"

Marc nodded and continued eating.

"...By any chance was one of these shifts when I may have been in the picture. To be specific, I might have called in sick?"

Marc paused and looked up, "That's very specific but I remember taking that chance to search the museum without you clinging on"

Steven who was on the reflection of the spoon stared at Marc, "Was it when I slept through my alarm? I swore I put it too and I freaked out about being fired"

"Yeah, I just took control before your alarm went off, like I said, found my chance to explore"

"Yo! Were you the one who asked that tour guide out on a date? The one that Steven didn't even know when they planned it?" Y/N exclaimed, "Because that was in the same week Steven went missing"

Marc slightly jumped at the burst of energy and thought, slowly his eyes widened. Taking it as a yes, Y/N's mouth dropped slightly.

"It was you! You really are into curly heads" She marveled.

Marc turned red, "What? No! She asked me--Steven out!"

"It was you?!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, okay what happened was that she was trying to carry this box and I went to help her, and things led to the other..." Marc tightened his lips.

Y/N raised a brow, "You fucked her?!"

"No! No! God no, we uh...made out...in a closet and that's when she asked for a proper date" he leaned onto the chair

Y/N was still in shock and gawked at him, "So you said yes and still missed it?"

"I thought it was a good way for Steven to get a girl, I just didn't know I would be busy that day" Marc ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh god, I seem like a total douchebag. No wonder she almost cussed me out when she saw me again at the gift shop"

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand dramatically, "...What would Layla think of this?"

Marc's head shot back up at her and his pupils dilated, "Don't"

She held his eye contact before reaching down for her phone, trying to get her contact before anything. Marc practically leaped out of his chair and stretched to get her phone but she moved it away.

Grinning she held her arm away from him while still sitting on the chair. Noticing him getting up, she stood up as well. Thats where the chase began.

She booked it and stood a good distance away from him. He raised his eyebrow at her, checking if she really wanted to be stubborn. Her smile gave him a go and he started chasing her around the flat.

With Mania's help, she was able to jump over the couch, and table, and even hang onto the ceiling. When she did, she would show her and Layla's messages with the keyboard out, ready to type the message.

This would pump Marc up and use all his ex-marine skills to chase her down.

After a while, she doesn't know how but he was able to grab her and pin her down with her arm on her back. Her face was squished on the wood floor while his body weight kept her down. It was like one of those wrestling moves she had seen many times.

"This is embarrassing"

"Surrender?" he asked

"Too late" A message being sent was heard and Marc saw her lift the phone up.

He grabbed it and let go of Y/N to check the message, hoping he could delete it before Layla. As he read it, he went to sit on the couch.

"Not funny" he placed the phone on the seat.

The message Y/N was just an iMessage game request for Layla.

Y/N let out breathy laughs as she got up and sat next to Marc. She checked the message and saw that Layla accepted it. Marc was regaining his breath when the bright screen came to view.

He glanced at Y/N who gestured her head to the phone, "Play a round of 8 ball with her. I told her I was teaching you how to play and that she would be a good opponent"

Marc didn't say anything and stared at Layla's contact picture. It was one where the top of Y/N's head was popping up trying to take a picture with her. In the background, Marc was trying to walk away from them.

Although he was the first to bring up the divorce papers, he was the last to want to lose her.

"This is the best place to start in trying to fix both of your guys' relationships. Even if you're not going to talk, playing a round or two might bring you two closer together." She kept holding the phone up to him.

Hesitating, he took it and analyzed the screen. Y/N got close and pointed out how to aim and hit the main ball. Explained why putting the main ball in a hole was bad and gave him tips.

For the first two turns, he was terrible but Y/N wouldn't say it out loud. For the purpose of his ego and feelings.

Afterward, Marc was focused on trying to win, that's what Y/N thought. Really he was trying to impress Layla.

Meanwhile, Y/N just put on a movie while he waited for Marc to finish his round. Which turned out to be 4 in total. It was a tie from the total wins and Marc decided to call it a night.

Marc stopped at the door and turned to Y/N, "Hey, thanks for you know,"

She smiled and nodded before he walked out. She shut the door, leaving her and Mania alone again in the apartment.

---

It was as if knocking became a part of her life. It was the middle of the night when she heard the pounding on the door. Peeling her eyes open from her slumber, she groaned as the knocking continued.

Covering her ears with pillows didn't seem to work, so she was forced to get up from the comfort of her bed. The cold night air began to infiltrate and she grabbed her sweater that hung off the bed frame.

Sliding into her sandals, she slowly made her way to the door. She peeked at the peephole and saw it was Steven waiting for it to open. He was standing rather timidly and she felt like something was wrong.

All her sleep went away and she immediately opened the door.

"That's not him"

Before she took in what Mania said, she looked at Steven but his body language soon changed. It wasn't like he switched with Marc, it was more like he was acting to be scared.

He as in Jake.

He put on his flat hat once she opened the door and looked at her with a grin.

Seeing his features closer now, she saw how his eyes had a violent look. Scratch that, there was something physically different.

His left eye wasn't that dark brown color that she came to know, it was red.

Noting that she was astonished was a bit humorous to him, "Happy to see me?"

"What do you want? I didn't tell them about you" she sneered

"You angry because I threatened you?" He pouted, mockingly. "Anyways, I'm not here for that. I actually need your help with something. I'll even pay you"

"...Help you with what?" Y/N muttered

---------

Fuck college fr, stressing my ass off lmao

Sorry if I made them sound OOC

Btw if you want to be part of the tag list just let me know :)

Taglist: @itsjusspele @dustyinkpages @scoliobean @moonywritings

[louisaland]

PSOLC vignette « Grades »

OK, so this is inspired by the amazing @themetaphorgirl ‘s PSOLC ( Criminal Minds AU) as we discussed a situation with Hotch and Emily in the same class and she gets a better grade than him, though he put in way more effort. I haven’t written in aaaaaages, so 1m super rusty, but I had fun and feel like I nailed Strauss’s character

“ Did you hand in your essay OK, Bubba?” Alex asked Hotch as she sat down at the table, deftly readjusting Spencer’s tray once she had put hers down too.

“Yeah, thanks Birdie. Once you looked through it for me I typed it up and printed it, then I handed it in last week.” he replied, stirring raisins into his oatmeal.

Emily’s head jerked up, eyes wide and her spoon halfway to her mouth. She quickly regained her composure.

“Uh, Hotch, what’s today’s date?” she asked.

“It’s the 22nd, Emily. And yes, it is the date our 2000-word  essays are due in for Strauss. The essays she assigned us last month that are worth 40% of the semester’s grade.” he replied, shaking his head and frowning at his classmate’s disorganisation.

“Oh, I knew that, I do actually listen in class sometimes, Hotchner! And it’s no biggie! I’ll write it in French and Chapel.” Emily responded nonchalantly, her eyes reflecting her panic and stress. «  We’re studying the present indicative of first group verbs and adjective agreements, which is obviously very difficult, but I’ll make it work » she announced, trying hard to sound convincing but failing miserably.

“Alexandra Catherine Miller, room-mate extraordinaire,  what can you tell me about the leitmotifs in To Kill A Mockingbird? Just asking for a friend!” she asked Alex, eyes wide, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling, tilting her head to the side.

“Oh, that’s easy! I read it when I was 7, but the main themes are…”, Spencer interjected, gesticulating wildly, his eyes shining with excitement, as Alex placed a finger on his lips to quieten him.

“Sorry, Emily, but I really can’t help you now. I asked you if you wanted help when Hotch asked me to look through his first draft, and you told me you had ‘almost started it’, so you’re just going to have to face the consequences” Alex answered, a sympathetic look on her face. 

« But if I don’t get an A, I’m going to fail! And Strauss offers no make up tests or extra credit! I hope you’ll come to my funeral as Strauss is going to eviscerate me. » she replied, biting her lip as she realised just how much of a challenge she had to face.

Hotch muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “you made your bed, now lie in it”.

Penelope looked aghast.

« Well, I am so glad I only have Strauss for debate. She sounds like the kind of person who has a favourite child! » she shared, shuddering at the thought of having more classes with her most terrifying teachers. 

Just before the bell for second period rang, Emily dashed into class, almost tripping over Chris Callahan’s legs and narrowly avoiding crashing into Kate Carter’s  neighbouring desk before flinging herself into her assigned seat towards the back of the class, clutching several sheets of rather crumpled notebook paper. 

Ashley Seaver smiled sympathetically at her before resuming her chat with Jordan Todd about the new crime series with the hot male lead that they were both obsessed with.

The final bell rang, cutting their conversation short. The class fell silent immediately.

“ Pass your essays up to the front now. Some of you have already handed them in, but I needn’t remind you that is no guarantee of a good or even a passing grade. “ Strauss announced, shooting a pertinent look at Hotch.

“Miss Carter and Mr Callahan, how many times  have I told you that there’s no PDA in my classroom?” she scolded, glaring at the offending students, who were holding hands.

“And no, don’t answer that, it’s rhetorical! Get out your grammar books, page 82 and complete the sentence parsing that we started last class. There is no need to talk.” she announced, having gathered all the students’ work in a pile on her desk.

The class got to work and their teacher turned her attention to the papers in front of her, scowling at some and shaking her head at others, that she liberally annotated with her red pen.

Two weeks later

“ Well, on the whole, I was disappointed with your essays. As Juniors, you really should have mastered these basic concepts by now. You do realise, if you go to college, your professors will make me look like a Disney princess. I have a feeling that college might not be the right fit for everyone here” Strauss declared, casting a disapproving look around the class.

“However, there was one standout essay that I gave an A to. I had to take some points off for presentation, but the student in question provided some excellent analysis. It’s the only A I have given so far this semester. Emily Prentiss, I did not expect work of such caliber from you. » she continued.

She then proceeded to return work by grade.

«  A valiant attempt. Mr Hotchner, but you should definitely ask Miss Prentiss for some pointers for the next assignment » she said, handing Hotch his paper that had a big red B+ on it. 

He shot Emily a dark, murderous  look, but she just grinned and thumbsed up when their eyes met.

As the bell for lunch went, Hotch uncharacteristically shoved his books and papers haphazardly into his backpack, pushed his chair against his desk with more force than necessary and stomped out.

Emily was smiling broadly at their usual lunch table, chatting to Penelope about hairstyles as Hotch arrived, slamming his tray down.

Alex looked over at him with a concerned look, but he just prodded his mystery meat violently, eyebrows knitted tightly together.

«  Hi Hotch! Are you still hung up over your grade from Strauss? I’m sure I can help you do better next time » she said sweetly.

«  Just how did you get an A? » he questioned angrily.

Rossi looked up from his mashed potatoes, intrigue written all over his face.

«  Emily! How did you do it? Strauss hardly ever gives A’s! Please teach me your ways, you… witch! » he exclaimed.

«  I’ m just naturally brilliant, I guess. Perhaps I should request a transfer into the AP class. And don’t ‘Emily’ me! » she replied smugly.

« That’s a great plan, Emily. Except a) there are no places left in the AP class, and b) your last grade was a C minus, I believe? » Hotch declared.

She sighed and returned her attention to her plate of food.

Hotch would hopefully get over it by the time they graduated, she mused.

[sillyandquiteawkward]

Haiii I wrote a big essay on the Bayley family a while ago but I'm still insane about them so I'm assigning them pigeons I think they'd be based purely on vibes

Artemus – Strasser pigeon

The very reason I wanted to start this was because I was reading up on the smartest pigeons in the world, and lo and behold, it fits VERY WELL with our good (?) Doctor Bayley. Strasser pigeons are one of the most intelligent birds out there, being able to easily observe patterns and formulate extensive escape plans even under stress, with one of the websites I was reading about them in saying "From the moment they hatch, these [birds] are likely thinking about how to escape from their nest", which is just the Artemus mood ever. I like to think this bird is a side project for Dr. Bayley to relax from the Other, Bigger projects, but then he ends up attached much like every other project he does <3

Octavia – King pigeon

For Octavia I wanted to go with a primarily 'utilitarian' bird, given her workaholic tendencies and need to show off how good at working she is, and Kings perfectly fit that description because they are the show offs of the pigeon world. They can be used for racing, messaging AND for therapy, which I think would be right up Octavia's alley in terms of . Everything. She could use a fluffy feathery friend in my head and these guys are great for anything you need them to be, and also very clever if you're willing to spend some time teaching them stuff. Octavia is the kinda gal who would probably go to beauty competitions with her bird in my head (because 1 her bird is the prettiest one and 2 she would like to win thank you very much) <3

Ignatius – Lahore pigeon

I chose Lahore for Ignatius because I remember seeing you talk about once how he's the most 'successful' one out of the Bayleys despite not being as practical so to speak, and that immediately made me think about this breed of pigeons. Not only is their contrast really nice and fitting for a sleek personality like Ignatius, but they are also one of the most popular pigeon species in the world, praised for their beauty, sociability, and high adaptability rates compared to other such birds– much like Iggy is 2 me <3

Sorry for no pics im. Shy but you can look em up and tell me if I got it teehoo

omg hiiiiiii ilu. speaking of the bayleys and pigeons. they are pigeons in my wing au. ouhg this art feels so old (four years ago)

my thoughts about this is i wanted art to be a common pigeon, bc hes got that little bit of iridescence that is akin to him thinking hes hot shit. i cant remember what breed oct was, but she was just a light brown pigeon type, maybe shes not as flashy but gets stuff done. and i wanted iggy to be very very plain, but pretty in his own right as a white dove (peace love etc)

but i really like the species you picked out too!! i really like the idea that the bayleys keep pigeons, i think that pairs well with their trading company background.

i think art could get really into breeding pigeons and he would tend to the smarter breeds i think, although hes not terribly fond of cleaning up after animals. the delight of genetics could just outweigh the animal care. hed have fun drawing them too. old man sits on his clinic rooftop next to his birds when the insomnia hits but his brain wont let him Work on his science. also would pair well with the thought hed breed animal test subjects :(

i think oct would like the utility of the king pigeons, but she wouldnt bother to raise the birds herself at all. thats not in her wheelhouse to care about, but shed still call all the company birds HER birds, even if she didnt raise and care for them. she knows all their names (as a good leader should) and probably has a strong affection for just one in particular. definitely a fan of the prettiest/most useful bird of the bunch.

ooo and i really like the lahore for iggy, they kind of also just Look like him with its long feet feathers and different shape. [ignatius voice] i just think their neat (hiding how much he relates to them)! iggy would be the one to be arms deep in the flock at all times (oh to escape paperwork and management by hiding in the barn with the animals (not to mention sending off the carrier pigeons and watching them leave with a bit of yearning)

[troglobite]

re: my lrb abt autistic processing (copied & pasted from my rambling abt it in the tags of the reblogs, then i didn't wish to be Perceived so i bailed and am posting abt it here instead)

i'm also now thinking abt something v interesting

okay so part of the reason i pursued an english degree was bc i think this process make literature analysis intuitive to me? i'm guessing

in hs we were being taught how to write higher level analytical essays, and all of the steps and assignments to learning it and parsing out the different pieces of planning and writing the essay were actively detrimental to my ability to do so

i was like STOP MAKING ME GO THROUGH A BOOK AND PULL OUT QUOTES AT RANDOM STOP MAKING ME WRITE MULTIPLE DIFFERENT THESIS STATEMENTS STOP IT!!!

bc i could finish reading a thing, be given a direction for a prompt, and then go okay here's my thesis statement and entire essay concept

and to the traditional teaching and order of operations that was Wrong, bc How Do You Have a Thesis Without Evidence? but i DID have evidence, i just had to go back and find it now that i'd coalesced it into an argument

i did the processing of details and evidence WHILE READING. it made no sense to me that you would finish reading something and NOT have an observation or argument to make abt its mechanics and purpose.

luckily my teacher was really neurodivergent-friendly, even if neither of us knew that's what it was at the time, and he went yeah no problem you can skip these assignments or do them differently. you can already do this just keep practicing i don't wanna mess w your process.

so that was v nice, highlight of my young education. is this bragging? i'm not gonna put this in the tags i'm making a separate post.

okay copied & pasted section over

but the reason this feels like bottom-up autistic processing is--

none of the other kids would have a Clear Idea abt what the book was already abt. the way it was often taught was more open-ended in our classes that year bc the point was to encourage us to read critically ourselves and learn to develop this skill. and so to them, they go into a book and are lost in the forest bc they can't see/understand the trees. they get to the end and are like What Just Happened. then they have to go back and start looking at all the trees again, now that they have a rough idea of the size and shape of the forest, and maybe the type of forest it is (rain, temperate, conifer, etc.)

so i'm not a genius master at this, but i feel like the only "big" concept i need is Story, or Book, or whatever. and then i walk in and immediately start encountering and identifying trees.

by the time i walk out the other side, i've already collected all of that information as part of my journey. so as soon as i look back, i have all the information to make sense of the Larger Context of the forest, and i go "oh i see. so THAT'S why this thing/pattern happened."

that's what feels bottom-up to me

i was honestly worried and gaslighting myself like "no that's definitely top-down" but it's not. if it was, i would need to what kind of book or story beforehand, etc., and have that to guide me. but i think that's counterintuitive, personally. i think it can become obvious what someone thinks, really, when reading their writing (given that they are/were in a temporal and geographical context close enough to your own to have reference points). then getting extra information abt that later is further helpful.

anyway there's my little bit of reflection for the day.

which unfortunately isn't terribly helpful w my ongoing crisis of identity at the moment bc it doesn't answer many questions, but it does sort of offer empirical evidence that that is something i'm good at, that my brain likes to do.

and also i want to own up to the fact that sometimes i finish reading something and i go "idk wtf to make of that. goddamn."

and that could be bc it was poorly written or was trying to say a lot. it could be bc it didn't mesh w my brain. it could be bc i need the act of writing abt the piece of writing to understand it (the way i have to talk out loud to understand my feelings abt something). it could be many things. but point being: i'm not trying to brag that i'm some magnificent genius, and i'm not trying to say this particular thing should be Easy for all autistic ppl. the way my brain works w words and stories is such that the bottom-up processing applies here and works well, but it's not the case for everyone.

i wish i hadn't spent the last minute or two typing that up bc i guarantee no one reads this and less self-deprecatingly, i'm tired of feeling like i have to anticipate a negative reaction to something and i'm tired of being responsible for someone misreading this and taking it as an insult if they weren't good at this same thing or assuming this makes either me or them not autistic bc we're not the same on this point

i just need the baseline understanding to be that NOTHING IS UNIVERSAL and ppl talking abt their own experiences is JUST THAT AND NOTHING MORE. it is also an invitation for ppl to relate. but y'know. anyway.

how and why am i managing the feelings of hypothetical ppl who probably won't even read this? i'm v tired.

[bawkrya]

Uuuh something something flag (i want to hear about cdramas)

ok HI well you caught me at the most devastating time where im fixated on the worst of the three cdramas i rotate in my brain (or ginal sin again) LOL, im going to force yall to sit down and perceive my hyperspecific version of chi zhen (my girlfriend) in my brain

SO! if you have the patience take my essay length "summary" of OS/and how i perceive it to have more context for who chi zhen is and what he does

my transgender king. and NOT in the way u wld expect. chi zhen is like. Removed from a lot of things, but i think she esp wld be for LGBT stuff & similar topics. like he didnt know what a bisexual was until one of the girls at his club explained it to him removed. If you put this man through covid 2020 lockdown he would come out trans in some way which is WHAT I DO TO HIM!

ive kind of given her my gender which is no gender but in the opposite way where hes transfem vs me being transmasc. she still aligns with more masculine things but also sophie called him her 'favorite pretty girl' as a joke once and he had to sit down and dissect the feelings it put in his brain. i literally use she/her or he/him for her depending on what flows better with the sentence in my brain.

if i do commit to the rewrite though it wld be very very subplot that IS noted, but he literally wouldnt even have time to properly think about it in depth bc hes u know, trying to kill someone, someones trying to kill him, etc............ but also for the rewrite i am wanting to do 'spinoff' where i jst invest some writing into 'downtime' story for like. character development. Filler basically but its not being injected as to prevent the rewrite from getting too long bc I Promise You It Will.

2. going 2 go over this before my actual next point i wanted to go over but this mf has autism. he wears sunglasses p much everywhere & honestly jst seems like he has a sensitivity to light. the way he goes about certain social instances in the show. and i dont think we were shown Much of how she is in the courtroom but she very much seems to be a patterns sort of person when it comes to solving situations.

also i am autistic.

3. the actual thing iwanted to go over: herspecial interest is colognes/perfumes and he can identify a VERY good portion of such jst by smelling it. i literally dont know why this is wht i chose for him but hes Definitely like insanely prissy about personal hygiene and (covers the show with my hand) dresses herself well and i just think he shld have a cologne/perfume collection.

chi zhen doesnt really have too many REAL personal belongings, hes been in jail, where he lives is very purposely hidden so he doesnt really have an Option to keep many personal items. But. I think he wld have a pretty decent collection of different cologne/perfume. which is fueled when people give him such for birthdays/holidays

i dont think she wld specifically have a preference bc different perfumes suit different people, on top of different styles of perfumes and all that. ipersonally dont know enough abt perfumes to even go in depth for it but she would kno the intricacies. She would.

its not smth he like talks abt all the time bt by god u ask him one (1) thing related to it and it can turn into a good 45 minute conversation b4 she realizes whats happening and immediately goes :| BC IT GETS HIM EMBARRASSED ........... but he likes it a lot and of the ppl who kno abt her interest they usually ask her for suggestions on it bc she likes assigning certain scents 2 people. like a planned filler scene i got is based on her getting like really suddenly angry/antsy while trying to go over a case and its literally bc lu li unexpectedly changed colognes w/o saying anything and he fucking lectures him for it

but yeah um i thikn that is all i am goign to willingly post abt publicly for my hyperspecific hcs for this guy bc 4 some reason i think the cringe police will come and kill my ass if i go into anymore depth. i lvoe this mf so fucking much i want to dissect him like you would tear off a young branch from a tree and split its bark in order to see the stringy inside

[gotham--fc]

You’re What? - A Kellex/Jessie Fleming Imagine

Request: I combined two here! First is kellex x adopted!daughter where R has a gf/bf and kellex get super protective of her and the second is R tells the team she has a gf and reveals it’s Jessie, enjoy!

“Mom?”

 Kelley turned from where she was putting away laundry to see Y/N standing in the doorway.

 “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

 “Can I talk to you about something?” Y/N was wringing her hands nervously. Kelley immediately stood up straight and left the pile of laundry she was folding.

 “Of course, come here,” Kelley climbed in bed and patted the spot beside her. Y/N joined her.

 “How did you know…” Y/N said after a minute, “That you were… That you… That you didn’t like boys?” Kelley took a deep breath. She won’t lie, she knew this day would come. Y/N was getting older and it was only a matter of time before she started dating, but Kelley wanted to prolong the time she had left with her baby.

 “Oh. Okay,” Kelley said, “Well, I always knew I didn’t feel the same way as the other girls did about boys. But I never knew there was another option until I went away to college and I met girls who were like me and who were happy. But it’s a personal journey for everyone. You might not always know, you might think you know then change your mind. But one thing is for certain.” Kelley nudged Y/N’s shoulder until she looked up. “I will always love you, no matter what.”

 “Okay,” Y/N said quietly.

 “Do you wanna talk about something with me?” Kelley asked. Y/N shook her head. “Okay then you can help me finish this laundry before your Mama comes home and yells at us.”

 ***

 Alex was surprised when Y/N asked if she could come grocery shopping with her. Y/N usually never wanted to come along, because Alex went on Saturday mornings and Y/N wanted to sleep in. But Alex wasn’t going to say no to company, especially if it meant more hands to carry the grocery bags.

 Y/N was quiet on the car ride, despite Alex’s attempt at conversation. She didn’t even perk up when her favourite song played on the radio. Alex was worried but knew Y/N would open up when she wanted to.

 “When did you start dating someone?”

 Y/N’s question shocked Alex. Kelley had shared what Y/N had asked her the other day, but Alex wanted to play it off as simple curiosity. She didn’t want to think that Y/N was going to start dating someone.

 “I was fourteen,” Alex finally said, “And he played on the school soccer team. We dated for a few months before we broke up when he plagiarized my English essay and we both failed the assignment.”

 “When did you start… dating girls?”

 “I,” Alex took a deep breath, “I had a brief… relationship in high school with a girl but I didn’t start seriously dating girls until I was older. It was hard for me to accept myself and be out because I didn’t have anyone in my life to look up to. I imagine it’s easier for kids now because there’s so many people who are out and happy.”

 “Like you and Mom?”

 “Exactly,” Alex said, “Is there something that’s been bothering you?” Y/N shrugged, but didn’t answer. “Well, if there’s ever anything you know you can talk to me or your Mom about it, okay?”

 “Yeah.”

 ***

 Kelley walked past Y/N’s room and heard voices.

 “No, I haven’t heard,” Y/N said, “I’ll have to ask.” There’s a beat of silence, then: “They probably will, I mean I normally do… No I didn’t… What am I supposed to say? They’d never let me leave the house if they knew.”

 Kelley’s hackles instantly rise. What was Y/N plotting? She wanted to know so badly who Y/N was speaking to, so she could know who to scare away before they made Y/N do something rebellious.

 “And it’s not like you’ve told anyone,” Y/N said, then she giggled. Kelley had heard many kinds of Y/N’s laughter. A snort at Sonnett’s stupid puns, a chuckle at a TV show, a full belly laugh when Kelley tripped over a rock in a parking lot. She didn’t know Y/N knew how to giggle.

 “Stop it,” Another giggle, “I have to go, it’s almost time for dinner. No! Stop, I’ll call you later. Bye.”

 Kelley rushed quietly from the hallway, knowing Y/N was probably going to come out for dinner and not wanting her to know Kelley had been eavesdropping. For the first time in a long time, Kelley had no idea what was going on with her child.

 ***

 “Are you sure you still want to come to camp with us?” Alex asked. Y/N nodded. “You don’t have to, I know it’s probably not as much fun now that you’re older. There isn’t going to be any kids your age there.”

 “Canada’s staying in the same hotel,” Kelley said, “That Fleming kid is going to be there. You’re alright hanging out with her right?” Y/N nodded, turning away so her moms won’t see her blush.

 “Oh you’re right,” Alex said, “Well if you’re sure you wanna come with, we’d definitely enjoy having you there.”

 “Yeah, so we can cuddle and snuggle you whenever we want,” Kelley grabbed Y/N and hugged her close, kissing her face while Y/N laughed and tried to squirm away.

 “Oh let her go,” Alex said, prying Kelley off Y/N, “It’s my turn.” Then Alex grabbed Y/N and squeezed her tight, rocking back and forth.

 “Okay okay we get it, you love me, let’s just go to the airport before I die of embarrassment.”

 ***

 When they arrived at the hotel, there was a group of Canada players already in the lobby, Jessie Fleming among them. As soon as Kelley saw them, she grabbed Y/N’s arm and dragged her over.

 “Hey! Great to see you all again,” Kelley said, “I just wanted to introduce Y/N to Jessie, since they’re the only teens here.” Kelley pushed Y/N forward.

 “Um, hi,” Y/N said.

 “Hi,” Jessie said back.

 “Great! I’ll let you two chat while me and your Mama check in, okay?”

 Before Y/N could say anything, Kelley was gone. The Canadian players moved away as well, leaving the two teens along. As soon as everyone was out of earshot, the two burst into laughter.

 “You could’ve at least told her we knew each other,” Jessie said.

 “I didn’t know she was going to do that,” Y/N said.

 In all honesty, Y/N didn’t tell her moms the real reason she wanted to come with them to camp. She wanted to come just to see Jessie. No one knew except them but they were sort of maybe dating. Y/N was really happy, she was nervous of course, about how her moms would react, how their teams would react, but mostly she really liked Jessie. Everything was still new, they met a few months earlier when Canada and the US played a friendly and both Y/N and Jessie were there. They didn’t really try to be sneaky then, it just happened that whenever they saw each other, no one else was around, but the last night before they flew home they snuck out on purpose. They hid in the stairwell talking and when Y/N had to sneak back into her room before her moms woke up, Jessie had kissed her and they’ve been dating ever since.

 “Well at least we won’t have to sneak around,” Jessie said.

 “Yeah for now, but like…” Y/N looked at the ground and blushed.

 “But like?”

 “Well… maybe I wanna kiss you and stuff,” Y/N mumbled.

 “That’s good, because I wanna kiss you and stuff,” Jessie said quietly back.

 Y/N moved subtly closer until her pinky brushed the back of Jessie’s hand. They were both smiling shyly at each other. Y/N jumped when a hand clapped onto her shoulder.

 “Got our room keys!” Kelley said, holding three room keys in her hand, “I’m glad to see you two getting along, but we should go unpack. I’ll see you around Jessie.”

 “Bye,” Y/N said.

 “Bye,” Jessie replied.

 ***

 The next day after both teams were done practicing, the teams decided to take advantage of the nearly empty hotel and the free large conference room they hotel reserved for them. Kelley and Alex were getting ready in their room while Y/N lounged on the bed.

 “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to stay?” Kelley asked, “We don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

 “It’s okay,” Y/N said.

 “Are you sure? We don’t want you getting bored.”

 “I’m okay,” Y/N hadn’t looked up at them at all, instead looking down at her phone.

 “Who are you texting that’s so important you can’t look at me when I’m talking to you?” Kelley asked. Y/N looked up sheepishly.

 “Sorry,” She said, “It’s just Jessie. She’s not going tonight either. She’s sixteen so… also can’t drink. Is it okay if I go hang out in her room while you’re gone?”

 “Of course!” Alex yelled from the bathroom, “We think that’s a great idea, just try and be in bed by 11 okay?”

 “Okay Mama,” Y/N said.

 “If you promise to get at least six hours of sleep tonight,” Kelley said, “You can spend the night in her room.” Kelley winked at Y/N. For a moment, Y/N was terrified that her Mom knew. Then she realized if her Mom knew, she wouldn’t be letting Y/N spend the night with her unsupervised.

 “Okay,” Alex said, coming out of the bathroom. “You know where we’ll be and call us if you need us, okay?” Y/N nodded. “I love you,” Alex kissed Y/N on the forehead.

 “Love you too.”

 “And I love you three,” Kelley said. She gave Y/N a hug, “Be good,” She said.

 Y/N waited a few minutes after her moms left before she left and headed to Jessie’s room. Jessie had already told her that her roommate had left so they had uninterrupted alone time for a few hours. Y/N knocked on Jessie’s door and grinned when Jessie let her in. They sat down side by side on Jessie’s bed.

 “So what did you want to do?” Jessie asked.

 “Well,” Y/N bit her lip and let her hand slide over Jessie’s, “I missed you.”

 “I missed you too.”

 “And I thought that maybe… since we’re alone… we could… you know…”

 “Yeah?” Jessie said, shifting closer. Y/N nodded. “I would like that.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 Y/N let her eyes slip shut when Jessie’s face moved closer to hers, their hands tangled together between them.

 ***

 “And then we scrimmaged,” Jessie said.

 They were laying in Jessie’s bed, Y/N with her head on Jessie’s shoulder and their hands raised above them, their fingers tangling together. They had kissed a bit (a lot) and now they were cuddling while Jessie told Y/N all about her day.

 “And I scored,” Jessie said.

 “You did?” Y/N said, “That’s so amazing, baby.”

 “Baby?” Jessie questioned. Y/N blushed and hid her face in Jessie’s neck. “Noooo, don’t be embarrassed, I like it, it’s cute.”

 “You’re cute,” Y/N mumbled.

 “You’re cuter.”

 Y/N lifted her head to stick her tongue out at Jessie. Jessie just laughed and Y/N couldn’t help but kiss her again. They were so distracted, they didn’t hear the door open.

 “Whoopsies!” Janine said loudly, “Didn’t realize you had company.”

 The two sprang apart. Y/N watched Janine’s eyes widen when they made eye contact.

 “Oh,” Janine said, “Jessie you dog!” Jessie groaned.

 “Janine please–”

 “I’m proud of you! I didn’t think you had it in you to bag Kellex’s kid, but I was wrong clearly,” Janine said, “I can leave if you two want privacy.”

 “No!” Jessie said loudly. Janine blinked.

 “No one knows yet,” Y/N said quickly. Janine nodded understandingly.

 “I see, well your secret’s safe with me,” Janine zipped her lips, “But since we’re all here, can I give Y/N the best friend speech or is this not the right time? And I do need to say, Jessie, no way you’re switching alliances ‘kay? You can do whatever you want when I’m not here but Jessie we still hate the Americans.”

 “You’re American,” Y/N pointed out.

 “Eh,” Janine waved her hand, “Legally maybe. But not in spirit.”

 Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and soon Jessie and Janine joined in. After Janine changed out of her party clothes, she laid on her bed and the three turned on the only TV channel the hotel had. Y/N had to admit, it felt really nice to be able to open with someone, to not have to hide the fact that Jessie Fleming was her girlfriend. Maybe she needed to tell her moms.

 “Jess?” Y/N whispered after Janine fell asleep. Jessie hummed in response. “I think I wanna tell my moms about us, if that’s okay.” Jessie nodded.

 “Yeah, I’ve been thinking maybe I should tell my parents too.”

 “Okay,” Y/N whispered, “I’ll tell them in the morning, then we don’t have to sneak around so much.”

 “It’s gonna be okay,” Jessie said.

 ***

 “How was your night with Jessie?” Alex asked.

 “Good,” Y/N said. Alex handed Kelley a water bottle which Kelley took with a slight groan. Y/N should’ve expected her Mom to get a little too drunk and wake up feeling a little worse for wear. “Actually,” Y/N said. Her moms both look at her. “I wanted to talk to you guys about her.”

 “Why? Did something happen?” Kelley sat up, despite her earlier protests that her head hurt too much to move. “If she upset you in some way I will have words, no one hurts my baby.”

 “No!” Y/N interrupted quickly, “It’s nothing like that. I just… I wanted to tell you both that she’s kinda… We’re kinda… dating.”

 “You’re what?”

 “Dating?” Y/N squeaked out.

 “I didn’t say you could start dating,” Kelley said, “You’re still a baby, she’s way too old for you.”

 “She’s only a year older than me!”

 “That’s too old!”

 “Mom!”

 “And what did you do last night? I can’t believe we let you stay overnight with her, you are not allowed to be alone with her anymore,” Kelley said, “You’re too young for sex, you’re too young for dating.”

 “Nothing happened last night!” Y/N said, “We were just talking!”

 “Oh sure ‘just talking’.”

 “Her roommate was there! We just watched TV and talked, god Mom I’m not stupid.”

 “Kelley,” Alex said before Kelley could say anything else, “Let’s be adults about this. Y/N, how long has this been going on?”

 “Just a few months,” Y/N said, “Since the last camp we were both at.”

 “And do you like her?” Alex asked. Y/N nods emphatically.

 “If she hurts you I’ll kill her,” Kelley said, “She’ll never play soccer again I can promise that.”

 “Kelley!”

 “Mom!”

 “No one hurts my baby.”

 “Look,” Alex put her hands on Y/N’s shoulder and looked into her eyes, “We just want you to be happy and if she makes you happy then we’re happy. Right Kel?” Kelley stubbornly glared at the wall. “Right Kel?”

 “Fine,” Kelley said, “We’re happy. But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to scare the ever living shi–”

 “We’d like to meet her and get to know her,” Alex interrupted.

 “I think she’d like that,” Y/N says nervously, worried about whether her moms will scare her girlfriend off.

 ***

 “So,” Kelley started, “Jessie, tell me about yourself.”

 The four of them, Kelley, Alex, Y/N, and Jessie, were out to dinner. Kelley and Alex arranged it, all Y/N and Jessie had to do was show up. Y/N was sweating, nervous about how her moms would act and how Jessie would respond. Y/N wouldn’t know what to do if her moms didn’t like her girlfriend or if her girlfriend didn’t like her parents.

 “Well, I’m sixteen, I’m from London, Ontario, but I’m currently living in BC. I have an older brother and a younger sister. I play soccer, well,” Jessie blushed, “You already knew that.”

 “And do you have any future plans?” Kelley asked.

 “Oh, uh, yeah, well I’m planning on going to college. I haven’t committed yet but I’ve been looking into UCLA and I think I’ll uh, take some kind of engineering. But obviously, going pro is the goal.”

 “What if Y/N decides to go to school elsewhere? How long will you want to do long distance? What about after your soccer career ends? What about–”

 “Mom!” Y/N hissed, “Mama, tell her to stop.”

 “Kelley,” Alex said. Kelley leaned back in her chair. “I would like to know your intentions with my daughter.”

 “Mama!”

 “Well, I really like her,” Jessie said.

 “Just like?”

 “Well, it’s not that… I mean, we’ve only been dating a few months and–”

 “That’s such a short period of time, how can we know you’re serious about her?”

 “I just meant–”

 “I’m not going to sit here and watch you break my daughter’s heart.”

 “I–”

 “Mom! Mama!” Y/N snapped, “Stop it!” Her throat felt tight and she felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You’re supposed to be getting to know her not interrogating her! Why can’t you just trust me?!”

 Y/N stood up and stormed away from the table, wiping her eyes furiously. She ignored the calls that followed her, focusing on getting away from the situation. Part of her felt bad for leaving Jessie alone with her parents but she needed to get away. Y/N slammed the stall door in the bathroom and locked it, locking herself away from everything. She leaned against the wall and tried to get her breathing under control.

 “Y/N?” Alex voice sounded, “Baby? What’s going on? Please open the door.” Y/N ignored her.

 “Y/N, come on, open the door,” Kelley this time, “Let’s talk about this.” Y/N ignored her too.

 For a few minutes, Kelley and Alex tried, and failed, to convince Y/N to come out of the stall. Y/N didn’t want to face her moms, after how they acted. She was angry, she was embarrassed, and she was stressed. What if Jessie didn’t want to be with her anymore after that?

 “What are you doing here?” Kelley’s voice had hardened. It was clear she wasn’t talking to Y/N.

 “I just came to talk to Y/N.” Jessie.

 “Well, we’re fine here.”

 “Kel,” Alex said, “Just let her talk.”

 “Y/N,” Jessie said, having moved closer to the door, “I know you’re upset and I would be too, but your moms just love you and I… They’re just trying to look out for you. They didn’t mean to hurt you and you don’t have to worry. Nothing they can say to me is going to make me run away. I meant it when I said I really like you, and I’d go through a hundred interrogations if it meant I still got to be with you.”

 Y/N shyly opened the door, just enough to stick her head out so she could look at Jessie.

 “You mean it?”

 “Of course I do,” Jessie said.

 Y/N came out of the stall and let herself fall into Jessie’s arms. After a moment, and with one arm still around Jessie, she reached out to her moms, who came closer to join the group hug.

 “Let’s go back to the hotel,” Alex said. Everyone agreed.

 The walk back was quiet, with Y/N and Jessie walking together behind Kelley and Alex. Kelley and Alex were whispering together about something and Y/N, honestly, didn’t care to find out what it was. When they reached the hotel, they lingered in the hallway. Y/N was nervous about what would happen when they leave Jessie. Then, Kelley turned around and put her hand on Jessie’s shoulder.

 “I won’t lie, I didn’t like you when tonight started,” Kelley started. Y/N rolled her eyes. “But then I saw how you handled what happened earlier and how much you clearly care about my daughter. And how much she clearly cares for you. So, all I want to say is that I like you kid.” Alex cleared her throat. “Okay, and I’m sorry for how I acted.”

 “We just want Y/N to be happy,” Alex said, “And we’re happy that it’s you who makes her happy.” Y/N grinned.

 “So you approve?” She asked.

 “Yes,” Kelley and Alex said together.

 Y/N turned to Jessie, who turned to her, and the two embraced and then Y/N nuzzled her nose against Jessie’s and then leaned in to kiss her gently.

 “Okay don’t get ahead of yourselves now, we’re still your mothers,” Kelley said, separating Y/N from Jessie. Y/N giggled. “Okay that’s enough say goodnight to your girlfriend and lets leave before I change my mind and forbid you from dating until you’re 35.”

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish. 

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything. 

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge. 

“Yes, darling?” 

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.” 

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected. 

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself. 

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?” 

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

-

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day. 

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.” 

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them.  “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment. 

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive. 

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands. 

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him. 

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to  let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.”  He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.” 

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting. 

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too. 

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his. 

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. 

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured. 

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin. 

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. 

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste. 

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him. 

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed. 

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?” 

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind. 

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.  

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place. 

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers. 

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully. 

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage. 

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.” 

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him. 

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty. 

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer. 

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.” 

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw. 

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips. 

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach.  Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation. 

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you. 

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep. 

NextChapter

[taechaos]

Social Media

from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds. 

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all. 

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point. 

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people. 

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before. 

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you… 

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.” 

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images. 

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing! 

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips. 

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm. 

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well. 

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile. 

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you. 

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door. 

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully. 

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter. 

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts. 

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him. 

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out. 

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy. 

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you. 

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too… 

[harrystyleseditsx]

If you need me

SUMMARY: A one shot of where y/n experiences something that reminds her of her traumatic past and Harry’s 5000 miles away

based on the song If you need by julia micheals

WARNING: Angst with fluff :) 

pairing: Harry Styles x uni y/n 

wordcount: 2.3k

A/N: Welcome to my first fic, I needed to write something to get in the flow to write my 2000 word story so here it is :)) ily guys <3 (also would you prefer y/n or an oc, please let me know!!)

Y/N was very happy about how her morning had been going.

She had woken up early, worked out and made her favorite breakfast. She had also gotten herself some flowers to celebrate the fact that she had submitted her 10 page essay early. The only thing that would make her morning better would be face timing harry but she knew it was 1 pm here meaning it would be 9 pm in London where Harry was and he had a concert to perform. She threw on one of Harry’s treat people with kindness hoodies over her sundress as she headed to the library that would often get chilly or she was just always cold as harry often teased her. She smiled as she remembered harry telling she would overheat if she continued to wear zip ups and pile blankets on herself even during summers. 

She had by now almost reached the library when she suddenly bumped into someone causing the other person to drop some of their stuff. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I should have paid more attention-” it felt as if the words were stuck in her throat as she glanced at who she bumped into. 

“Oh hi Y/N” Asher taunted, her ex. She hadn’t seen him since the break up when he told her that he needed space and took off to France only to send her the infamous break up text. And, here he was 6 months later, looking the every bit same. She felt a feeling of anxiety creeping up on her as she started playing with her fingers trying to stop when she saw Asher’s eyes drop to her hands. 

“Are you nervous y/n? Always played with your fingers when you were” he said with a hint of smugness, as he reached his hand forward trying to grasp hers. She immediately pulled back, crossing them against her chest as she took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here Asher? Aren’t you supposed to be in France?” she snapped at him, her nervousness quickly turning into anger. Asher raised an eyebrow as if surprised at her response. 

“Been keeping tabs on me?” he smirked. “Well forgive me if I wanted to know where my boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend ran off too on our 1 year anniversary” she scoffed.

“Finally grew a backbone y/n?” he drawled looking her up and down. Y/N had never felt the urge to pull someone’s eyeballs out more than she did now. She found herself thinking what she ever saw in this piece of shit. She snapped back to reality as she heard him droning about something.

“..you need me, so I’ll take you back-” he was in interrupted as y/n threw her head back laughing. When she looked at him again, he had an annoyed look on his face. “I need you? Well, I’d like to inform you that you’re wrong again. I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone. I managed myself when you left and I’m doing so now too. So, you can see yourself out of my life again” she reiterated. Asher now looked furious, he lunged forward and grabbed her by her wrists as she tried to free herself from his grip.

“Is all this attitude because of her famous singer boyfriend? Yes, I know all about him. Is he telling you that you’re beautiful? or that you’re important? because news flash, you’re not y/n. You’re worthless, stupid, ugly and you’ll be nothing without me. You’re a whore” he growled. Y/N felt herself flinch as she heard his words before she composed herself and kicked him in the balls. His grip on her wrists loosened giving her the perfect opportunity to attack. She grabbed him by the back of his neck and jerked it forward, raising her knee and smashed his face against it and then shoved him backwards. She heard Asher yelp in pain as blood gushed out of his. One of his hands was on his dick while other on his nose. She felt a sense of pride and satisfaction rush through her as she looked at him. 

"You bitch, you broke my nose. You'll pay for this" Asher yelled at her. She decided it was best to kick him one more time for good measure and she did, smiling as he groaned in pain. "No, you listen to me. If you ever come near me again or try to hurt me I will fuck up your life and I'll get my famous singer boyfriend to help too" y/n taunted as she turned out to head back to her apartment, she had never been more glad to have her apartment be a 5 minute walk from campus. The whole incident had taken a huge toll on her.

She locked her room as soon as she entered it, leaning against the door as she slowly sank to the floor. She took a deep breath before the sobs broke out. Her entire body was shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself trying to feel as if she wasn't alone in the world. Y/N picked up her phone to send a text to harry but she try made her feel even more shitty. What if he realized she wasn't worth it, what if he had enough of her breakdowns. She pressed her nails into her palm, hitting herself to try to stop herself from feeling too much. She had come so far and now all it took was one interaction for everything to come crumbling down.

//

She didn't know how long she had been sitting like that but her phone rang, she looked at the clock to see it flashing 5 pm. Realizing that it must be harry on the phone, she got up and rushed to the bathroom, quickly washing her face, she laid down on the bed so he could only see half of her face and then accepted his call.

Harry appeared on the screen all smiley and sweaty. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. All she wanted to do was hug him. "Finally picked up, huh? I thought y'were gonna leave me hangin' lovie" he teased her. "I'm sorry, my phone was on silent" she said softly.

Harry realised the change in her demeanor, his smile turning into a frown. "Y'alright honey? Not even showin' me y'pretty face" he said to her. She tried to smile as she moved the camera a bit so he could see more of her face. "I'm just tired H" she whispered. Harry had been moving around, probably trying to find a quieter area. He shut the door behind him as he entered what looked like his dressing room.

"Have y'been cryin' y/n?" he questioned as he saw her red nose and faint traces of year marks on her cheeks. y/n knew there was no point in lying because it was pretty obvious. "Yeah, I didn't do very well in one of the assignments my economics professor had assigned but I'm fine now" she told him adding a smile in the end to make it more believable and maybe Harry would have believed her had he not caught a glimpse of the nasty bruise on wrist as the sleeve of her (his) hoodie slipped down when she was pulled the hood up. Harry was furious and the visible anger on his face made y/n want to curl up.

"What the fuck is that y/n?" he questioned furiously. "What are you talking about? "y/n replied looking genuinely confused. "The fucking bruise on your wrist” harry snapped, by now he had lost all his patience. No one gets to hurt his lovie. 

Y/N was at a loss, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to worry about her but she couldn’t come up with anything to say. “Asher came back, he cornered me and when I tried to go, he grabbed my wrists” she mumbled, playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. She dare not glance his way, afraid of his reaction. After a minute of silence, Y/N glanced at her phone only to find the screen to be blank. Had he hung up on her? She stared at the blank screen of her phone in disbelief. She felt as if she was having an out of body experience. Opening her gallery, she started scrolling through the numerous photos and videos of her and harry. It was at this time that she was grateful with her obsession of taking pictures and photos. A few tears escaped her eyes as she realized how much she missed him and how he probably didn’t want to talk to her ever. Was he going to break up with her? Y/N’s heart clenched at that thought, she put on harry’s playlist on her spotify and laid there. 

//

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up to the sound of pots clanging. Her heart sped up, no one besides her and harry had the key to her apartment and harry wouldn’t- 

She threw the blanket covering her aside (which had not been there before) and rushed to the kitchen. And sure enough there he was, her boyfriend, with his back facing her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes, he came here for her. Harry  turned around to see her standing in the entryway of the kitchen, crying. He reached her in three quick strides, pulling her in a hug. She tightly wrapped her arms around him, fearing he might disappear. Harry pulled back after a few minutes, cupping her face in his hands he gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. 

“Gonna properly tell m’what happened now bubs?” he urged. Unable to say anything at that moment Y/N just nodded. Grabbing her hand, Harry led her to the sofa, grabbing her by the waist and seating her on his lap. He patiently waited her to start talking. For a while Y/n just played with his hair, then she took a deep breath and told him everything that happened. She could feel Harry’s grip tightening on her hips, not to the extent that it was painful, when she told him what Asher had said to her. 

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill him” Harry cursed when she had finished. “I already did some damage” Y/N told him, smirking as she remembered Asher’s face. Harry looked at her questioningly, “I might have kicked him in the balls and broken his nose and added another kick for good measure” she admitted. Harry grinned, “that’s m’girl” he said proudly, pulling her in for a kiss. They sat like that for a while with Harry telling her about tour and she filled him in with other things that she had forgotten when they had their facetime sessions.

Y/N told him that she wanted to report Asher, in case he ever tried to pull shit like this again. Harry not only told her but also showed her how proud he was of her, how brave she’d been and how much he loved her in multiple ways. 

//

The next day they headed to the dean’s office, where Y/N saw two officers sitting outside. Luckily there were several camera’s in the hallway where Asher had cornered Y/N, so by noon, with all the available proof, she’d gotten a restraining order against Asher. If her were to come within a distance of 6ft with her, he’d serve jail time. As they left the dean’s office, Y/N saw Asher standing , she could feel harry tensing up, so when Asher looked Y/N up and down and smirked, Harry lunged forward punching him in his already swollen nose. Asher yelped in pain, he tried to fight Harry back but by now the officers had restrained him, taking him away. 

Back at the apartment, Y/N tended to Harry’s bruised knuckles as she felt a hollowness knowing he’d be leaving soon. By the look on her face, Harry knew what she was thinking about, he took the cotton swab from her hands, placing it on the table before he kissed her. 

“I’ll be back soon, it’s only a matter of two months now and by then you’ll  graduate and I’ll be done with tour and we can  have everyday to ourselves” harry told her, wiggling his eyebrows. She lightly smacked his chest, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “I know, It’s just that sometimes I miss you” she commented. “Only sometimes?” Harry pretended to be offended, “Well a bit more than sometimes” she retorted. “Just a bit more? I miss you so much, it hurts” he admitted. Her shoulders slumped a bit as she pulled him in a hug. “I love you Harry” she whispered and heard him softly whisper I love you too sweetheart. 

That evening Y/n drove him to the airport, they knew they couldn’t outside for long so Harry pulled her in a kiss before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “Promise me you’ll tell me anything that happens, I don’t care if it’s just a paper cut or not. Just don’t hide things from me, If when you need me I'll be there" he blurted. “I promise” she said firmly, showing him she was serious. She didn’t want him to worry but he’d eventually know something was up and it was better to sort things out. He kissed her again before he went in the airport. She stood there until he was no longer in her sight before she sat in her car and started driving off. 

Her phone chimed, picking it up she saw that Harry had sent her a image. It was a very poorly drawn graphic of a guy lying on the floor with a crooked nose and blood around him that she assumed was Asher and a girl stood over him wearing a superhero cape. He had written, ‘my hero’. She smiled fondly before sending him a picture of her reaction as she increased the volume of her radio and driving off. Soon. 

. 

This is my first time writing a harry fic/blurb. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, I’ve turned on the asks (I didn’t know they were off) so you can send in your requests!! Thank you :))

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 4

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

* 

“But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

Before I get into seasons six and seven, it’s worth asking: why would the show do all of this? Why would it spend all of this time developing a supporting villain and joke id character? Why would it give him a romantic arc? I see people say that the writers only gave Spike these storylines because he was popular or they wanted to keep him around, but even that being the case, there was no need to give him the specific arc that they did. It’s more than possible to read meaning into the story that they chose from the array of possible options. 

Here is the thing about the id. It’s not actually something separate from you. It’s not a ravenous monster you can blame your weaknesses on while remaining pure and dignified. The id is part of you. The immediate and enduring appeal of Spike is, I suspect, strongly influenced by the fact that the things the id wants are so very human and sympathetic. His foibles and mistakes are often painfully familiar, even exaggerated through vampirism as they are. In fact, it’s precisely because Spike is allowed to show a full range of reactions to love, because the writing is under less pressure for him to do the “right” or dignified thing, that he can at times be compelling in ways other characters can’t. If Spike just did nasty things, his appeal wouldn’t be much more complicated than the appeal of Angelus, who people tend to like as a villain or storyline rather than as a relatable character. But Spike doesn’t want to dismember nuns or construct elaborate murder tableaux. He wants familiar things like love, identity and meaning, even if the ways he goes about getting them can reflect people’s worst impulses. 

Which brings us to Buffy, and Buffy’s story about growing up. Buffy is Buffy’s show, which means that every writing choice tends to revolve around her arc in one way or another. And this goes for Spike’s storyline even more than most. In the final three seasons of the show, the writing finally engages with how inextricable the id--and all of its impulsive, inarticulate romantic desires--really is from a person’s self. So instead of keeping Spike at a comfortable distance, both Buffy and the writing begin to take him seriously. They begin to invite him in.

Starting in season five, it’s telling how frequently Buffy herself projects on Spike, rather than just the writing setting them up as mirrors. She tells him that he’s the “only one strong enough” to protect her family, and later assigns Dawn specifically to his protection. In “Spiral” she describes him as “the only one besides me that has any chance of protecting Dawn.” This is a very intimate role that she otherwise only assigns to herself (and which is not really based on pure practicality, considering that she’ll later describe Willow as her “big gun”--yet never gives Willow the task of protecting Dawn). She tells him that he cannot love, which is the thing she fears most about herself. Her protests that Spike is a vampire, and thus cannot express or want human things like love, mirror her lamentations that as the Slayer, she cannot have a normal life.

From the Gilliland Gothic double essay:

More than any of her other lovers, Buffy and Spike overlap one another so often that at times their character arcs become nearly indistinguishable. With Angel, Buffy traveled a parallel path in attempting to master self-control. With Riley, her journey ultimately took her in the opposite direction. With Spike, Buffy’s journey is most closely shadowed, in that her interactions with him in many ways can be seen as metaphors for her feelings about herself.

So now Spike is multiple things. On the one hand, he’s the soulless id he’s been since season two. His vampiric behavior represents a morally uninhibited way of reacting to romantic frustrations, among other things. But on the other hand, his vampirism now also marks him as like Buffy, not merely her opposite.* Nor is he only her mirror in the realm of romantic love. The part of him that is a vampire is the part of him that is supernatural (ie, Romantically larger-than-life), that sets him apart from regular people, and dictates how he can and cannot behave. Just like Buffy’s slayerness. His vampirism is what makes him capable of protecting Dawn, while also making him (supposedly, according to Buffy) incapable of human feeling--again, just like Buffy’s slayerness. Instead of Buffy’s Slayer side being aligned with Angelus, who was an unmitigated evil, it becomes aligned with Spike, who is something more complicated. 

*(Though it must be noted that this was a process that began in season four, with the show aligning Spike with the Scoobies by making him a victim of the Initiative. Spike being supernatural suddenly marks him as non-normative, just like the Scoobies, in contrast to the institutional conformity that the Initiative represents. The evolution towards treating the Romantic supernatural as something positive and associated with identity plays a key role in transitioning the show to the more complicated attitudes of the last three seasons.)

This shift in the show’s attitudes towards the id affects how Spike is used. In “Blood Ties” for example, Spike assists Dawn in breaking into the Magic Shop and in “Forever” he helps Dawn resurrect her and Buffy’s mother. In both cases, Spike could be read as embodying impulsive behavior that Buffy is supposed to be better than. Yet both cases specifically involve Spike helping Dawn, who is repeatedly portrayed as Buffy’s human side. As Buffy says in “The Gift”: “[Dawn]’s more than [my sister]. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. [...] Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I--”. In other words, Buffy’s id becomes closely tied to her humanity, even going so far as to become its safeguard. “Blood Ties” ends with Buffy affirming her connection to Dawn, which Spike’s rule-breaking directly enabled, and “Forever” ends with Buffy acknowledging how desperately she wants her mother back too, and becoming closer to Dawn as a result. (Compare to “Lovers Walk”, where Buffy acknowledging her id results in her breaking away from Angel, not drawing closer to anyone). Or in “Intervention”, Spike building the Buffybot directly parallels Buffy’s own anxieties about what she thinks she should be. She thinks she’s losing her ability to love, and that effusive fakery is her only recourse (as she said in “I Was Made to Love You”: “Maybe I could change. [...] I could spend less time slaying, I could laugh at his jokes. I mean men like that right? The joke laughing at?”), a fear that even has some merit, given that her friends cannot tell her and the bot apart. Instead of Buffy and Spike having separate arcs in the episode, Spike learning the difference between real and fake dovetails with Buffy’s own relationship to her realness and fakeness. It turns out that neither of them want a bot version of Buffy. They want real emotion, things like sacrifice and heartfelt gratitude. If even Buffy’s id would let itself be killed for Dawn, then maybe she has nothing to fear from herself. Maybe there is some beauty in the emotional part of her nature that she thinks she must repress.

In other words, part of the writing (and Buffy) fully engaging with romanticism and the id, means engaging with the ways they can be bad and good. There’s this weird thing that happens with Spike as soon as he falls in love with Buffy, where suddenly his actions are more uncomfortable, and to many, off-putting, because their object is Buffy (instead of another vampire like Harmony or Drusilla, who either enjoy the same vampiric things he does, or the audience might be inclined to see as a moral nonentity regardless). His comic id quality becomes somewhat darker and more serious, almost like the way Angel’s early season two darkness becomes more serious after he loses his soul. But at the same time, Spike’s actions are also more intriguing, sympathetic, and even noble...because their object is Buffy. It makes no sense that a soulless vampire should not only fall in love with the Slayer, but genuinely attempt to transform himself into someone worthy of her love. And yet that’s exactly what Buffy inspires him to do. By loving Buffy Spike’s dual nature, and the dual nature of his romanticism, is thrown into relief: it’s something that can be selfish and creepy, yes, but also something that hints at the idea that real romanticism does exist. Something worth feeling romantically about does exist. Thus the writing can at once criticize, say, the way the chivalric mindset conflates love and suffering, while also suggesting that there are kinds of love it’s worth being transformed by. (Meanwhile, Spike’s fumbling bewilderment over how to love Buffy, and what the rules of loving people correctly even are, creates a human middle ground between monstrousness and heroism). By leaning into the way that Buffy and Spike have been used as mirrors for three seasons, and introducing the mythology-bending idea of Spike being in love with Buffy, the writing is able to fully engage with this complicated, contradictory nature of love and romance.

All of which is to say. Spike becomes a potential love interest, and is given a convoluted inner conflict between monstrousness, humanity and heroism, in precisely the season in which Buffy begins to reckon with her own inner conflict between her darker impulses, her human reality, and her supernatural role. It’s no coincidence that season five opens with Dracula, an icon of romantic vampire mythology, tempting Buffy with darkness and promising her insight into her nature. Or that a vampire kidnaps Dawn--again, her human half--in the next episode. Or that the season’s antagonist is a super-strong blonde woman who wants to destroy Dawn instead of protect her. Or that she says goodbye to Riley, the boyfriend who embodied her hopes for a more normative way of being (notice how Riley is progressively destabilized by everything non-normative about Buffy’s life, and provokes those anxieties Buffy expresses in “I Was Made to Love You”). Over and over in season five, Buffy fears that her Slayer half is cold, destructive, and otherwise dangerous. That these Romantic things like gods and vampires have it in for Buffy’s vulnerable humanity. Yet Buffy’s vampire id simultaneously gives lie to these fears by proving itself capable of heroism and genuine human feeling.

In other words, Spike becomes a potential love interest in a season that treats the Romantic--ie the grand and mythical--as something more than just an attractive lie to be disabused of. Rather, the question that season five seems to posit to me, and which will not be fully answered until the end of season seven, is this: once you do clear away the attractive lies, once you accept the hard realities, once you’ve seen the darkest underbellies, what are the things that are left that are truly grand and beautiful? What are the stories that are really worth telling, and the heroes that are really worth having?

And the show asks and answers these questions on both a very personal level, and a more meta, systemic level. On the personal level, Buffy and Spike are forced to confront their illusions not just about the world, but about themselves. They are made to ask themselves what constitutes a heroic role or a demonic weakness, versus basic, unromantic humanity. And on the meta level, the show asks questions about our expectations for how both love stories and chosen hero stories are supposed to go.

part 5: “Everything used to be so clear”: Season six and the agony of the real