#so glad she is so commited to that topic

[camillasgirl]

Queen Camilla, President of JDRF, visits a research laboratory for type 1 diabetes and subsequently attends a recpetion in The Pears Building at The Royal Free Hospital, London, 29.06.2023

[leviathanspain]

Hey could you write a Finnick odair / reader where snow forces them to pretend to date like he did with katniss and peeta? The whole convince him and get married as a distraction thing? Thanks :)

the pretender

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: being reaped from the victor’s pool changed your life in more ways than you imagined

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you were his favorite girl.

girl. you were a girl when you had been reaped, a girl when your feet stepped off the platform, more shocked that you didn’t immediately blow up into bits. a girl when you had committed your first kill. you remembered the sound of your knife slicing into human flesh for the first time. the ringing in your ears had become permanent after you had been too close to the explosion that had killed half of the tributes. an explosion that you had accidentally caused.

your rebellious spirit was fun at first, for the capital to laugh and delight in, until you stopped using the scripts that they had written for you, and tried to destroy the idea of the girl in their minds.

snow subdued you, tried to barter your family’s life with cooperation. unbeknownst to him, you hadn’t seen your family in years since they had abandoned you, for fighting against your father’s abuse.

“kill them. do whatever you want to them. just leave me alone.” your own words haunted you since the day snow had presented evidence of their murders. you didn’t dare flinch in his presence, holding a strong facade that you didn’t care, that they were beneath you.

as he left, irritated at your refusal to comply, letting ideas stir in his head with what to do with you, you broke down. tears shed as you realized that they were gone because of you, because you couldn’t let your anger go.

but snow liked you, he must’ve had a reason to keep you around for so long, and until just a few days ago, you hadn’t known why.

you breathed deeply as you heard your name called. it was deja vu, and suddenly you were back to the thirteen year old girl, who was so emaciated and starved that when her name was called, she believed she was hallucinating.

you looked crudely into the screen, not offering any smiles or sign of pride that you had been reaped, all over again.

“y/n l/n.” hearing your full name made you turn around immediately. you were slightly blinded by his blonde hair and pearly white smile.

“finnick odair.” you realized who the man was, quicker than you’d admit. the last time you had seen him was at a ridiculous capital party that snow had forced you to attend. finnick had been leaned against a wall, with two capital sluts hanging onto his shoulders, whispering in his ears simultaneously.

he smiled, not surprised that you didn’t say anything else besides his name. you had that tendency about you, to shoot down any attempt at conversation. even going as far to avoid it all together. “i’m glad you haven’t tried to run away, not after i had caught you eyes and you dashed off at that party. how long ago was that? three,” his speech hung onto the words, “four?”

“five months. it’s been five months, finnick.” you remembered his gaze, and remembered how your feet made you run at the sight. you had heard stories about finnick, and you weren’t exactly planning on ever talking to him.

“that’s right.” he smiled, “i hope you’ve been well since then. it was nice seeing you in something other than a bloody shirt.” his gaze suddenly seemed very far away, as if he was remembering exactly what you wore that night.

you shrugged, deciding to change topics, “everyone else is polishing their weapons,” you heard a guttural war cry, and saw another tribute lunge at a partner, “and methods.” finnick turned to the source of the cry and laughed slightly, “oh yeah? what’s your choice of weapon, again?”

“knives. anything long and sharp.” you always had an affinity for knives. it was second nature to you, an art of your district. your mind drifted away slightly to the array of knives that you had collected during your games. every tribute that you had slaughtered had a knife, and you collected them as a token. by the end, you had 23 knives, all representing a kill.

it had been upsetting when you went on your victory tour, to see the look on their family’s faces, but you had blurred out their emotions, and at the height of your submission to snow, had given out the same apathetic speech to every district.

finnick watched as your mind drifted back to reality. wherever you had gone for the better half of a minute, was a place finnick spent every waking moment, running away from.

he grabbed your shoulder, squeezing it slightly as he looked into your eyes, whispering your name, “hey, hey.” you focused on his eyes, gaze shifting to his mouth as they shaped the syllables of your name. you swallowed thickly, “im sorry-i…” you pulled away, his hand falling free of your shoulder. finnick watched as you exited the training room, your hands balled up into fists as you disappeared through the doorway.

“absolutely not.” you had spent your childhood under the thumb of one man, and you had barely made it out from under snow’s. this was only another way to get you under it once more.

finnick had his head bowed, having listened to snow’s pitch to make the two of you a couple. he needed something to distract the capital citizens from peeta and katniss, who everyone knew, was just a thorn in snow’s side.

“my dear, i really don’t think you have a choice in the matter.” snow’s eyes narrowed at you and you sighed, “what else is there left for you to do? im already being marched to my death, again, just speed the process up. poison me like you do the rest.” you took a good jab at one of the many secrets you had obtained, living in his cage.

snow laughed, “i would’ve done that a long time ago, y/n.”

just as you were beginning to argue again, finnick looked up, eyes catching yours. he held your gaze for a minute, blinking his wet eyes at you. there was something that was telling you that this wasn’t just about you.

finnick.

oh how could you forget finnick.

there was something clearly at stake for him too, otherwise why had he remained silent this entire time?

compliance was something he had to get used to, also under snow’s control.

“okay, fine.” you felt yourself swallow bile, “i’ll do it.” you looked at finnick, your future husband, and the reason why you were even agreeing.

“why did you do it?” his voice cracked, a raw noise as he looked over at you. you had been silent the whole time since leaving the meeting with snow. you shuddered with the strong winds, having been sat out on the stoop of the building, housing all the reaped former victors.

you looked at finnick, having caught his gaze, holding it for a moment, “my entire life i’ve been selfish, and i guess i realized that it isn’t always about putting myself first.” you knew the stories, heard the rumors. snow had barely played with the idea, making you like finnick, but you had always refused. there was nothing left for him to leverage, and so it never went anywhere.

but this, pairing the two of you was nothing short of cruel. finnick who has everything to lose, with you, who he probably didn’t expect to agree.

finnick hitched a breath, understanding what you weren’t saying. “thank you.” he breathed, “and im sorry.”

you stood up suddenly, nodding as you turned towards the entrance, “just-“ you cut yourself off, waving a hand as you continued inside.

he made the announcement. finnick had decided that with the pull he has on the capital, that he would be the one to do it. especially since he was so beloved, the attention from it was to challenge katniss and peeta’s.

you had agreed to play the part, and now you had to act like it.

there was loud cheering and applause from the crowd, and you were pushed out onto the stage, more cheers erupting as finnick stood up to meet you halfway. you kissed his cheek, grabbing his hand tightly as you two fluttered across the stage.

caesar flickerman was already standing there with a bright, capitol smile. “this is your lovely bride. we hear the honeymoon is the arena?” he looked at finnick who tipped his head back for a laugh, but didn’t answer outright.

you gave a soft laugh, “we just loved each other so much, we couldn’t wait.”

caesar looked at you, as if remembering who you were exactly, “wow.” he seemed truly amazed, perhaps even shocked.

finnick noticed the heaviness in the interview and turned his head at caesar, trying to keep the attention on the union rather than the individuals.

he grabbed your hand suddenly, clutching it tightly. as he held it for the rest of the interview, you staring at the faces in the crowd, more love struck than you, you wondered if he was trying to comfort you or himself.

“finnick.” you looked around behind you, only seeing peeta in front of you. the first few days in the arena had been a blur. you had stuck by close with finnick, who made it his mission to stay close to katniss. there was something he wasn’t telling you, but you didn’t once doubt him.

“finnick?” you whipped your head around and couldn’t find him. you were always in front of him, so he could remain in his eye line at all times. except you had failed to make sure he was in yours.

your ears started ringing as the panic set in. you scanned the trees and couldn’t find any sign of him or katniss, realizing this as peeta shared your same panicked look. your throat felt tight as you screamed his name, “finnick!” peeta suddenly took off, feet blazing towards more greenery. you had no choice but to follow, knowing finnick would’ve had you stick with peeta.

as you barely caught up to peeta, you saw him hit the floor as you ran up. whatever he had bounced off of was holding katniss and finnick back.

you looked at finnick, unable to catch his eyes as he looked up frantically. there was something you were missing, there were just bir-

“jabberjays.” peeta groaned out, “they can’t hear us, but they hear our screams.” he swallowed thickly, resting near the force field. katniss was knelt down at the edge, eyes tightly shut. you stared at finnick, at a loss for words. the panic in his face looked so real, you wondered who he was hearing.

you tore your eyes away, watching him suffer was not something you had signed up for. you felt defeated, unable to do anything as you and peeta sat like sitting ducks, waiting this torture out.

you hadn’t talked to him since the jabberjays. peeta had comforted katniss, in any way she’d let him. but they were different, you and finnick were different.

yes, you were married, he was your husband. but the issue was, you hadn’t much time to even begin to share intimate details, let alone have a good conversation. this was what snow wanted, an empty marriage to stir up all the attention.

except you knew your performance was failing. the audience could see right through you.

“hey.” finnick had snuck up on you. you had stayed a few feet away from him and the others, unsure how to handle it all. but it seems like finnick was trying to make it work. but it should be the other way around.

“finnick.” you breathed a sigh of relief unintentionally, hoping he didn’t catch on, you watched as he sat down on the sand beside you. he grabbed your hand, and for a moment you thought it to be genuine, until he raised an eyebrow.

right.

“i’m so sorry.” your voice hitched, and finnick steadied his gaze, “seeing you like that-“ you faked a choked sob, “i just couldn’t do it. i couldn’t look at you and see-“ you cut yourself off, throwing your head in your hands.

snow had to be happy that you were selling yourself off to protect finnick. but beside that heart to heart you had with him in the beginning, you had nothing else to go off of.

“i heard you.” finnick’s voice cracked, “you were screaming, these terrible, horrible screams.” he shook his head, as if he were hearing them all over again, making you realize that he was telling the truth. “and it wouldn’t stop.” he breathed. his breathing got harder and you found yourself kissing him to make him stop. finnick panted into the kiss, as if you had grounded him. you pulled back, catching his eye as you looked away.

your hand that he had been holding gripped his harder. you looked out into the water, watching as it’s dangerous waters moved, unsure on how you would survive this.

with or without him.

[kooyabooya]

HIERARCHY

m reader x dahyun // 9k words

(shoutout to @passingnotions for allowing me to adapt this idea <3)

“I have her here waiting at the desk if you’re ready to see her, sir.” 

“Perfect. Send her up.” 

It’s peculiar for these kinds of rumors to circulate given her status - and even when the sounds of her heels click off against the polished tiles and get gradually louder; until she steps past the open door and into the oval office, you still can’t put together why she’s a controversial topic in the first place. 

“I’m glad that we can finally have this arrangement,” you say, glancing over the more she makes her presence known, “Overseer.”  

-

It’s as simple as it sounds: 

She’s the regulator. You’re the higher-up. It’s your job to assess, determine, and take action. 

And the roles exist for a reason, and every system has its necessary balance. Nobody gets out of line, and nobody ever questions the orders that come from the superiors. Everything feels right in its place, between the people and where this institution stands, but there’s one catch that you’ve sought yourself to see out personally, after hearing some peculiar commentary building up with various faculty members.

This very woman standing in your quarters exudes this infectious aura that sweeps up the whole room. In the case of the students, it would send a chill down their spine, get a few beads of sweat to form in the palms of their hands and foreheads - a quick breath beneath their lips as they tense up because despite not being the main person in trouble, and she makes them feel that way regardless. 

“I would like to know why you asked to see me in the first place,” she says, face stoic as she settles into the seat, gaze locked with yours, “Hopefully this isn’t about what we discussed the other time, is it?” 

Something in the way that she sits, and how the two-piece set of her dress rests along the line of her shoulders, how her eyes dart through yours when you’ve caught yourself staring a bit longer than expected. Make the goosebumps along your arms stand up underneath the sleeves. 

“It’s partly that,” you answer, pinching the edge of your cuff, hoping to divert the attention of death staring in your direction. “Among other things.” 

“Meaning what, sir?” 

Breaking eye contact, the formality alone snaps some composure into you. To recap: you’ve been in and out of meetings all day, talking about future plans to implement amongst the student body and faculty; then there was some discrepancies that was dealt with from past incidents brought to your desk, but the common thread from these accounts all pointed to the same thing: 

“It’s about your recent-” the pause alone of the intended word hanging between your lips makes the Overseer puzzled about this discussion (though with the implications through the reports sitting on your desk, tell a different tale). 

“-modes of conduct.” You tell her, which only earns a quirked eyebrow and a nod, signaling that you’re right. “I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been going around between the other staff members and what not, Dahyun.” 

Even the name alone sometimes sends chills to your body. Overseer Kim Dahyun: the academy’s best instructor. Lead figure when it comes to dishing out disciplinary measures to those who were stupid enough to go against the rules. Once she has someone that’s out of order, it’s automatically assured that there won’t be any further incidents coming from them moving on. You’ve looked at the written reports, noticed that there’s nothing worth putting against someone like her with the reputation that she carries, but no one ever really stays perfect for this long. 

“So tell me, Superior,” Dahyun begins, one leg over the other in her chair while you continue with the glacial pacing around the office, “What is it that you have heard about me, circling around with the other staff in the past weeks?” 

“I guess it’s mainly the latter, the ‘forms’ of discipline you’ve been committing with various students.” 

“What about them?” 

“That's the reason why I’m having this discussion with you in the first place.” 

Dahyun tilts her head down, eyes wandering the opposite direction, reflecting almost as her mind tries to piece the different shards of information rummaging about in her head. She’s one to not leave anything unchecked - down to the minute detail possible. Intricate in the way that she does her line of work, and meticulous with how she wants things to be done. She also gets along well with others to which they speak highly of her. You wouldn’t want to call these accounts ‘accusations’; not yet, until you’ve seen both ends of the scope before drawing up a solid conclusion. 

She turns her head around to see you at the tray table next to the door, tending to the two glasses of water before a wave to the keypad locks the deadbolt into place, to ensure privacy and know that someone will eventually knock without even going to the front desk in the first place. “This is a first for me, especially coming from you, questioning my methods.” 

“I don’t see what you mean,” you tell her, making peace with the glass in your left hand to which she accepts, “I’m only aware of the stories that were told in recent weeks.” Dahyun acknowledges with a sip, eyes still trained on you now on the other side of your desk, “Let this be a simple conversation between you and I, please.” 

“Okay then,” she remarks, handing back the empty glass once she’s done with it, “I’ll ask this again: What is it that you’ve heard about me that caused this whole debacle in the first place?” 

Her look shifts up, maintaining her posture, hands resting on her lap. There’s a few strands in her hair that look out of place, but most of it is neatly tied up in the bun hanging low behind her head. She knows that she holds this sort of entitlement, this status - even from the glances alone in all sorts of seriousness tell you not to mess with a woman like her if you were a student. 

But you’re not. 

The lift from her eyebrows, above the upper rims of her glasses, prompting you to answer. It’s all in your head, right there, the only problem is how the delivery is going to hit her. You have every right to feel bad to be the bearer of not-so-good news, but it’s the part of the job, and the more you stand there in silence with her looking up waiting for a reply, adds on the slow building tension in the room. 

You’re reminded however, of the actions she committed. 

“We have an issue, technically it’s not really an issue, yet.” Dahyun’s gaze twists at that, but it isn’t a look of clear confusion, moreso thrown off at the very topic of discussion. She scoffs, slightly amused, and you can’t blame her for giving that reaction. “Though it’s been brought to my attention in the past few days.” 

And in terms of issues, there’s hardly any throughout the academy; thanks to the dedication towards molding the best and brightest students into civilized beings for the real world. Most of these incidents come at a scarce occurrence alone - but it still happens even if it’s an ordinary day throughout the week. 

She blinks twice, maybe thrice, turns her head away, fixated on the edge of the desk still. Her hands mold together with a small unease, but she still looks empathetic with how her eyelids flutter in the small lines of breaking light past the windows. 

“So say it then,” she says, tone flat - like in her lectures or when having a one-on-one conversation with a troubled student outside the hallways, “since you’re always so on top of the loop with the faculty here.” 

The prompting. It’s so on brand for her to be like this - to set someone else up as a way for them to keep their attention, carrying on with the conversation till she finally has that satisfaction with the answer. There’s some admiration for her, in the way that she doesn’t back down from a disagreement, because she’ll always see it through no matter what the circumstance may be. It’s her strength, and also her weakness, but she’s good enough to not let it show on her face. 

At some point you were afraid of her, something that you can admit to yourself from a long while ago. Not a lot of people at the academy even really liked her because she’s extremely intimidating, and that still seems to be the case now. Though, with all of the different events spread out across the place, some of the roses were given in her effort to come out of her shell which she takes your encouragement. It’s in those rare moments where she laughs or smiles, like a blue moon passing in the night sky. 

You remember the task at hand, what needs to be done. 

“It’s about the students,” you tell her, air slipping through your upper lip as a way of preparation, “I’ve been told by a few individuals that you’ve been having an affair with one of them.” 

“What!?” 

“This is all just speculation,” you say, settling into your chair as Dahyun keeps her posture upright and composed, “Hence you being here to tell me your side of the story so that we can try to line up the two different perspectives together.” 

“That’s what this is about?” 

“Dahyun.” That sense of professionalism has to be cared for. An eye to the desk to the few different reports that insinuate a wrongful framing; some of them were just verbal accounts and had to be on the record, but the whistleblower tip in the form of a post-it note already caused quite a stir around the teachers lounge. 

“All of this is unbelievable.” She plucks her glasses away from her face, catching a few wisps fall out from their spot on the top of her head, clearly irritated. “I have- I have not. In no way those accusations are true.” 

You pull your lips inward, trying to be sympathetic as much as possible in addition to being transparent. Her eyes darted back at yours, fully interested as to what you might say next. She expects an answer, and you’ll give it to her, but all you do is raise an eyebrow to where she scrunches her eyes in response. 

“Are you sure?” To that, Dahyun rolls her eyes. You notice a quick pull from one of the corners of her lip, shuffling the small stack of files off to the side, leaning closer with both elbows on the wood. “I hope you realize that if you are withholding information from me, it can lead to harsher consequences.” 

Dahyun clasps her hand to a fist, face still as stone as you watch her eyes sweep across the floor. A heavy bundle of air leaves your chest, keeping your gaze locked to her, waiting for an answer within the next moments or so. She knows that she can’t shy away from this, and she knows that the only direction to take is the one where truth is the sole passage. It’s also very interesting the way she doesn’t falter, sheltering her emotions inside. You’ve only seen her be the opposite of that - only once, a spell ago, and you were convinced that it was only a one time thing. The silence seems to get louder in the room, and she finally shifts her eyes back to you. 

“Well?” you ask, to break the tension a bit, “You’re not my enemy here. I just want you to be as open and honest as possible.” 

You can see the slightest clench at the bottom of her jaw, gritting her teeth behind her lips. There’s that thought of clear common sense, telling you that what she did was wrong, but that’s just one side of the story. Sure, that someone who created the rumor might’ve done it out of spite, or maybe they wanted to see Dahyun in a state of panic just for the fun of it. Some will say one thing, and others will say another. The only way that you’ll know for sure to make all of this go away is the personal statement directly from her. 

“Overseer.” You huff, sighing out of pure annoyance.

Her brows crunch in response to the title. 

“I need to know. That’s all I’m requesting of you right now.” 

She sets herself square on the seat, facing you; she’s matching your height now in a sitting position, but despite the lack in length is replaced with the demeanor that she carries. There’s been some sort of competition thrown around by the students, talking about how Dahyun’s figure comes second to none with the likes of Jihyo or Mina to name a few. Gawking at the fellow staff members who caught wind of the conversation is what you give them, and it would take a metric fuck-ton of persuading to spill an answer out of your lips. 

Still no answer from her as of this second. 

“Overseer Dahyun,” voice now in a much lower register than usual to punctuate the gravity of the situation, “We don’t have all day; so either you fess up now, or I’ll carry on this conversation tomorrow if I’m not going to get it out of you today.” 

Running her upper lip inward, you carry on with the scattered paperworks spread across the desk as she contemplates, unwilling to make eye contact with her while she keeps her eyes focused on you. By all expectations, you were hoping that this meeting would be quick and easy; just get the required information before writing up a report and be on your way. Still, you can’t help but think as to why she’s being so reluctant about saving her status let alone her job - all because she didn't do something that had very little significance to her and became such a big deal. 

“Fine,” you say, slapping the pen lightly on the desk before beginning to stand up from the chair, “Just forget that I asked and you can-” 

“One.” she finally says, after what felt like an eternity it seems. And then again, “One.” 

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” you start, falling back onto the seat; Dahyun collects herself with the subtle rise and fall of her chest, breathing carefully. That crucial first step was already taken, and the plan in your mind to diminish this whole controversy is slowly scaffolding into place. “So I’ll ask this once again in a different way: Are you having an affair with one of the students in the academy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is it…just the one?” 

“Just the one.” 

Despite how this information may be shocking to a degree, composure has to be kept from this point on. You’re just simply doing your job as the superior, and if this doesn’t get solved quickly, there’s more people in higher places than you that will do what you couldn’t. 

“So,” you set yourself up for the next connecting inquiry, “I want a full explanation for this, as to when and how all of this came to be.” 

Dahyun licks her lips, unsure if what she’ll say next will either be her saving grace or a shortsighted opportunity breeding on disappointment. You can easily tell that she’s uneasy, and it’s very impressive at how she’s able to keep an expressionless face for an instance like this. Put anyone else that works here in her seat and situation, they’d all panic or break a sweat pleading for an appeal to save their own skin. To hell with the fading wish for an interesting day every few weeks or so - because this potential scandal might make the whole week or even the whole year. 

“Alright,” she relaxes, finally letting her body release all of the tension while she flutters her eyes back to you, “For the record, he came to me. It was-” a quick look to the side before subduing the sudden impulse coursing through her neck, “It was supposed to be a simple form of disciplinary action. A one time thing. Had him serve the correction and be on his way. Though, you’re very familiar with, well- you know, the methodology.” 

“I see, and it took you that long to tell your side of the story??” Swallowing the small lump in your throat growing as her eyes fail to leave yours. “But let me guess, he-” 

“He wanted to see me. Actually, he wanted to keep seeing me. I asked him as to why one day, and he was just fascinated with the approach that I do; he just wanted the pleasure for himself and as for me, I reveled in the satisfaction of taking advantage of him.” 

“And you found it to be completely appropriate for this little entanglement to keep on happening?” 

Dahyun then leans forward, and thank Christ you managed to save your wandering eyes from leering a second too late at the overflowing swarm of pale thighs ballooning on the cushion as more and more skin is revealed at the help of that tight light blue dress getting hiked up with the press of her legs. The inquisitive angle of her head at the given question, letting a stray wisp of her hair fall from the side before she drags it back behind the cuff of her ear. “So what are you saying?”

“Well, I’m the one who asked you first,” you answer, twiddling the pen around your fingers, maintaining eye contact with her. “Besides, I’m also not the one stuck in the middle of this debacle in the first place anyway.” 

She sighs, head cocked back, almost vexed that this meeting has gone way longer than intended. You could’ve waited until after hours once all of the students had left the campus, but this was also the best possible convenient time because of the gap in her schedule during the regular day. Her lips stay shut, the soft tick of the clock mounted on the wall keeps on going. Maybe raising a white flag in the means of things might be better for today, and you’ll pick up where you left off tomorrow. 

Most days don’t often go this way. Aside from the usual responsibilities throughout the typical day whether it would be out your desk or out and about peeping in different classrooms, you’re slightly ecstatic for the sudden change in pace around these halls. “I digress,” you say, leaning forward before finally carrying on,  “So as your superior, Overseer, I’ll leave it off with this. Do you have anything else left to say before I draft up a report for all of the parties affected?” 

Dahyun crosses her left leg over the other, clutching the glasses in her hand, her head tilts at that same right angle as earlier. The gaze she has is unchanging, staring at you right in the face while you’re quickly examining the two sheets of paper placed next to each other on the desk, sliding them away into the pile as you stand up off the chair. You’ll take this meeting as a win, at least some of the information was suitable enough to your liking for now. With all that done and over with–

“Still no answer?” You ask, fingers dancing along the button of your cuff, carefully threading it through the small slit, “Don’t make me ask this again–” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I told you. No.” 

“Really now?” 

“I have already made my case with you, sir. There’s nothing else left for me to say for the time being.” she answers with a shrug to her shoulders. 

Dahyun’s throat tenses when she sees the once needling eyes from you become quickly disinterested with her return. Incompetence was a sheer rarity with the way you operate your role, let alone a hindrance that you see in other people. Like the rest, it wouldn’t be long for everyone to get whipped into the ‘new regime’ all those years ago; some stimulating commentary at the time, but everyone understood once the policies were put into place. 

Though, this meeting has gone long enough, and keeping her here wouldn’t really do anyone good at this point. 

“Consider this conversation to be over, then,” you say, turning your body to the window panes set behind your desk, looking out at the moving trees in the breeze. “You’ll hear from me within the next few days so, carry on until you’re notified.” 

She then stands too, hand clasping to her wrist, subjectively giving you a nod with your back turned, seeing  her out of your peripheral vision. The emotionless look that’s her only mask, unimpressed and cold, as if nothing ever phases her in the tiniest of mishaps. You know that she’s just like the rest, despite wearing that facade like if life were to depend on it, part of you wants to break her- to tear up that infuriating fray of nothingness, spark some kind of fear into her core that would have her screaming, beg for a twinge of mercy. 

Reading those accounts of what she did with that student, wasn’t supposed to make you interested, but it is. A worthy head-scratcher for someone like her to have a few screws loose every now and then. It just didn't add up, for her to treat this so pointlessly. 

Even when she starts to bundle her feet together, swiveling them across the tile, she still carries this peculiar gracefulness in her step as her profile sweeps out of the picture - her back coming into view. She’s put up with that facade against you for so long, you know that it’ll be easy for her to comply in her case because it’s not in her nature for her to defy orders. 

A turn of the head signifies a chance out of desperation; a lifeline, and you’ll give her the luxury of deciding her fate. 

“And one more thing,” you setup, rolling the sleeves of your shirt to the elbow, to where Dahyun turns her body the long way round, hands behind her back, waiting for the next thing to leave your lips, “I’ll be perfectly blunt with you because I know that you clearly know better.”

Her forehead twitches at the cause of her brows bridging against each other. You see the small nick of her head that also shows the acknowledgement she’s willing to give you, both ears and eyes trained on you once the spread of your fingertips rest on the polished bark. 

“You’re aware of this academy’s policies when it comes to relationships among peers, it’s basically frowned upon,” you tell her lowly, “Let alone of the fact that you’ve been having this intolerable amount of behavior out of the false guise of indignancy.” She starts to internalize this short reproachment you’re dishing out on her, watching as her eyes expand by the passing second, “Now, I’ve could’ve let this be handled by the high council, but they’ve gave the chance to me in order to see if I can get this incident resolved without having any further escalating conflicts.” 

She parts her lips, wanting to take the opportunity at clearing her name, but she holds back since there’s that hanging impression of ‘what’s there left to be said once everything is put on the table?’ And even so, would anything serve to be better in the good graces of innocence for her case?

So she says nothing. Forever holding her peace while you audibly scoff at her. “I expected better from you, Overseer, I really did.” 

It takes the next few seconds to re-organize your workstation, she hangs herself in limbo, gathering her thoughts as the window to save herself starts to close smaller and smaller, and she finally takes the sealed fate into her hands. 

“If I may,” she says, diverting your attention from the desk back to her - hesitant to the point where you can rightfully assume that she’s eager to finally set everything straight: “I’d like to formally tender my resignation here at the Academy.” 

A bold move, Overseer, but a surprise one too- 

“On what grounds?” you ask, clearly taken aback with the sudden course of action by her own admission. “I don’t really see to understand while you would go to such lengths for this little incident-” 

“Because I will admit to you, Superior, that I saw that student out of my own volition. I’ve made the effort to set time aside from my schedule so that he and I could have our private meetings in my office; for the sake of his pleasure and for my sake of being able to satisfy those kinds of requests for him.” 

This tidbit of honesty coming out serves as a great reaction to your scolding, and not a lot of people get the credit they deserve trying to convince a person like Dahyun, but luckily you’re the one - if not the only one to have that ability in advising her. You always believed that she’d come around in some way or another, considering that this was the very first big fuck up from her too. 

“Superior.” The name alone brings you back. “Please, consider my resignation. And I’ll make all of this go away.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why can’t you?” Her voice is strained, a fist at the side of her thigh, nails deep into her palm enough to draw blood, “I have to do this. I need to do this, sir. Please, let me-” 

You can see the desperation start to break through the cracks of her stoic persona, inching closer to where you want her to be. She can play the cool, level-headed teacher all she wants, but you know that this whole fiasco was her doing; like anyone else, they’ll do anything to make things right, no matter the cost. Then the getting ahead starts to seep through your frontal lobe: what she’ll start asking for next, the kinds of lengths she’ll commit to if you’re not the one to throw the figurative lifeline at her. 

Not just yet, guiding her into the right mindset will fall into place if you let the inner workings of panic do their thing. 

“Overseer Kim.” You slowly navigate closer to her, rounding the desk with every moving step across the room. “Even if you were to leave, you can’t. I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door here because I knew that this would happen: the way that you’re acting, we can’t have this.” 

It’s amazing at how she’s at ease, despite having the mini breakdown just an instant before. 

Because her act is rapidly deteriorating. 

“Sir, I don’t follow-” 

“Dahyun.” With a hand to her shoulder, her face freezes right when she flashes a look of suspicion, tensing up at the touch before she locks eyes with you again, the unsureness diminishing with a singular eyebrow raise. “I’m giving you an opportunity to have all of this resolved without any loose repercussions.” You can feel the heart rate within her start to calm down the way her breathing stabilizes, tension along the line of her shoulders releasing with every pass of air, “There would be no need to resign, and we would find a workaround to prevent this from ever happening again.”

“And how would you suggest that, Superior?” 

“By granting you amnesty. Without the word from anyone else but me.” 

You can see that same sweep of her eyes moving left and right, unable to meet yours. The offer alone is taking her a significant amount of time to consider, a mistake that she’s willing to undo. She then looks up with a wistful gaze, the small spark dashing through her irises - as if she had just made the discovery of fire. Her mind starts to work and it’s so easy to tell, reflecting on this potential choice that she’s able to make. “You don’t mean-”

“Mean what?” Letting a sly grin break through your lips. 

“By amnesty,” she adds, tilting her chin up, bearing your arms across your chest, “What would I have to do in order to achieve this?” 

She has a general idea of the term itself, and maybe you think she’s also heard of the many things thrown around with this specific practice or policy of yours. This occurrence has happened a few times, whipping up a few notable individuals into shape - some much more needed than others, but the commonality between all of them: they’d always submit themselves to you. 

“Do you admit and accept the responsibilities of your actions, Overseer?” You formally request with hands reaching to the fine creases of her dress to which she accepts. 

There’s a brief pause of consideration again, and you’re watching her eyes never leave yours, thinking about the whole reason that you two are in this position in the first place. It may be a little hard to believe still; knowing what Dahyun will do not only for herself, but for the academy. Then there’s the logged report from your desk, in detail of what she did with that student, makes you realize that she’s got a screw loose in her head. 

“Yes, sir.” She answers, looking up with a delighted smile, fully realizing the opportunity and taking it with no regret. “I do.” 

“Good.” With a sigh of relief,  a hand escalates to the back of her neck. “Because your punishment begins now.” And she’s in awe of the shimmer in your eyes, slowly grinning when you’re dipping your head down lower, minimizing the distance. It lights a fire within you, a motive of what will entail from this point going forward. 

This is what amnesty is, Dahyun would think, be oh- she has no idea what she just got herself into. 

You learn that she’s receptive, the way that she takes your lips with hers so well, hands flying freely, breath clashing with yours. It’s messy, the way more slick starts so spread on the lower half of both of your faces, wanting more. Her tongue weaves its way past your mouth, a leg hiked up that you greatly take the hint for, channeling the hum of approval coming from her down your throat. She grips tight on the back of your shirt, adamant on taking this chance to build a clean slate, a perfect rush of gasps followed with even more kissing. Her hands are well into your hair when you pull away, a pause to probably call a stop and- 

“So it is true,” she admits against your cheek, “About this little policy?” 

You lift an eyebrow unimpressed at her. 

“What do- you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you mumble, grip getting tighter on the fine part of her ass, chest heaving slightly, breaths getting uneven. 

“I thought it was just some legend here, around these halls.” Dahyun answers, letting her wrists relax while swooping under her legs, instinctively wrapping them around the small of your back. “Maybe you can show me if that’s actually a real thing.” 

She doesn’t see the flared nostrils you’re giving her, “I’d like to thank you, Overseer,” setting her on the desk nicely when the clack of her heels fall onto the floor, echoing the room as she removes the top piece of her dress, tossing it over to the chair she was previously sitting at, “For reminding me what I was doing.” 

“And that is?” She asks, naively. 

There’s a bit of a shock when you force her body to the desk, a flushed reaction covered with a gasp when you have one hand fastened to her wrist, the other lightly on her neck with the grip on the fingers getting delicately tighter. She tries to read your expression, map out the crinkles falling towards a cross or a devilish smile, feeling your breath graze along the line of her neck in these soft hitches. 

“Allow me to show you,” you whisper, flipping her small body to where her back is facing the ceiling, toe tips nearly grazing the floor but just barely. The same hand to her wrist is now shifted to her back, the other set flat; searching for something to take hold, she peeks over her shoulder, watching you study the way her dress hugs along the shape of her waist and hips. 

Doing this kind of practice was no surprise to you, and it doesn’t happen as often as you would’ve liked. Ryujin took three tries before she’d agree to not be a bother to you, Haewon probably took a few days or more to finally come around, and even Mina just recently. This revolving door into your office and form of chastising was the last resort of necessary actions for your fellow colleagues, some willing to challenge your authority, others were willing to submit. 

“What do you think this treatment entails?” you ask vaguely, raising the lower part of her dress to reveal more and more of her ass into the light, taking note of the noticeable choice of lace as she hikes it up with her free hand. “I sure hope that this should help you learn a thing or two. Though, it’s entirely up to you.” 

Dahyun’s side profile is amazingly flawless to see when you’re gently kneading her soft ass with your hand, palm moving graciously along the fine skin, fluttering her eyes shut, her breathing begins to become irregular, a small tremble to her hips as you press down lightly on the waistband, tugging on the elastic before letting go. The potential is right there at your hips - at your fingertips, to ruin, break skin, a perfect canvas for you to mutilate in any way you see fit. 

You laugh and admittedly, out of spite. “I’m sorry, if this meeting didn’t occur, you were going to invite him over for another one of your private sessions?” 

She seethes, but in anticipation, drawing a sharp inhale of air when your hand slides up her back. Part of you wants to put her back onto the wood, but you let it slide when she lifts herself off to meet your cheek, getting a bit selfish when she’s refusing to pull away. Her swollen lips and lidded eyes are too tempting to stop yourself- as if she’s the one pulling you into her spell. 

“Had I not been found out, I would’ve,” she murmurs, clutching onto a bit more of her hiked up dress, revealing her bare ass to the open air, unveiling a strike point. 

A fast hand tends to hers, placing it with her other hand still pressed behind her back. She writhes at the uncomfortable position but the tension passes through her body once you adjust. 

“You know what I would say to that, Overseer?” 

“What-” 

Nothing is said, but all is shown with a harsh slap to her ass. A statement. 

Strike one. 

Dahyun quietly yelps at the sudden hit to her backside, everything from the waist down clenching from the contact. The rough palm on your hand stings to the point where you’d have to flick your wrist a bit to subdue the burn. Her breathing starts to become irregular, wiggling her legs hanging from the side of the desk. 

“Superior, ah-” 

“I should’ve also mentioned that I’m permitting you to use expletives, but you’re already ahead of the curve as it is,” you tell her, massaging the crimson mark now apparent across the breadth of her ass, feeling the bits of heat emulating across the rough creases of your palm. “You’re now free to speak your mind.” 

“God, f-fuck. I can’t bel-” 

Another rough hit cracks an echo in the room. Earning a high-pitched whine from her. Strike two. 

“Choose your words more carefully.” Fighting the urge to smile at the sight this woman splayed across the table, letting out these heaves of desperation, body tightening and untightening on the surface as she’s hiding her face from you. “I don’t plan on easing up after what you did.” 

“Sir, please. I just need to-” 

You press her deeper into the table, hike up more of that insanely tight dress to her waist, letting her struggle under your grasp. The sounds leaving her pretty little lips would drive anyone else drastically crazy, watching as this uncrowned beauty crack under the weight of your touches with a third slap. Strike three.  

What sets Dahyun apart from the rest that has gone under your specified practices of treatment is the appeal she possesses. At least everyone from the faculty to the students have shared their thoughts about her: few envying and others fantasizing. You’re somewhere between the two, impossible to really tell for yourself, but what’s rest assured: 

There's more than a boatload of things to discover with Dahyun that’s already a list growing by the second. Dragging your fingertips along her thighs, pressing and pinching in spots where you’re trying to assess how nimble she can get, the way you can twist and mangle her limbs into a plethora of ways that’s drawing up with the imagination running through your head. How she shudders when you’re pulling on the elastic of her panties down her luscious legs, drinking in the sight of her glistening pussy lips hanging off the rim of your desk, clearly having an enjoyable time with the slick soaking her undergarments as well. 

“Have we had enough? Or are you willing to take more?” you ask, letting Dahyun keep her own hands behind her back with yours fastened over the curve of her hips, sliding down to her red cheeks, handprints visible as you're soothing the damage. “I definitely think that you can handle more, shall we continue?” 

She shivers, the slightest grasp to her ass gives another hitched breath, caressing it briefly as you’re plotting the next move in your head. 

“You can answer me, Dahyun,” you tell her, leaning down over her back, nose tangling within the threads of her hair, brushing the cuff of her ear before planting a kiss right below it, “But from these sounds I’m hearing tells me that you’re enjoying it.” 

A small twist from her singular eyebrow, lids still sewn shut, “You’re ecstatic, that I m-misbehaved.” 

“Can you tell?” Another slap to her ass and a tug to the soft skin. 

“Y-yes sir, I-” 

And another. 

“I’m not convinced yet.” 

Then another strike. 

“F-fuck sir-” 

One more hit to bring the tally up to seven. 

“Makes me wonder what you were going to do with that poor student if this carried on without my interference.” And at this point her ass has morphed into this ruby shade with every strike that follows. Her shoulders roll back, you’re keeping her in place, wrists still stacked on top of each other, hands opening and closing in response to the pain the more slaps you dish out.  

Dahyun struggles to keep her breathing stable, one firm grab to her asscheek as you’re planting a few scattered kisses down the column of her throat, teetering along the bridge of her collarbone. “Tell me, would this be on your mind with him also?” 

She doesn’t open her voice to tell, but a simple nod is all she gives. “My, my, Overseer. You really are something.” 

You could be satisfied with the way things transpired in this very room, content with the message sent and the warning laced between the lines. A momentary pause, hushing her whimpers, tending to the red tint of her ass, easing the ache of pain mixed with pleasure. Her eyes are scrunched along with the bridge of her nose, gnawing on her bottom lip as your fingertips continue to dance along the sensitive skin. 

“Are you ready for the next part?” you murmur into her ear as your hand trails down to the space between her legs, dragging a pointer finger across the warmth of her leaking slit, listening to the sharp breath passing through her lips again. 

“Mmmm…” Her legs buck against the drawers, dipping the two pads into her walls. The corner of her lip wobbles as she throbs around your fingers, dragging and sliding in a form of trial and error; seeing what she likes and what doesn’t, the light in her eyes filling with lust. “Sir, please, yes, God-” 

She sees another idea spark in your irises, drawing away from the warmth of her pussy temporarily, hands fast to undo the belt around your waist. Dahyun could only watch as you’ve got the leather wrapped around, creating a loose hoop at the end before lightly placing it across the two divots in her back resting above her ass. 

You test the pliancy of the looped belt on your other hand, ensuring that the article rebounds nicely across your palm. “I’ve got one more thing to do, consider this to be a test of some sorts.” 

“What do you mean, Superio–” 

Her voice screeches when you strike the leather in the same spot where your hand hit on her ass cheek; entire body tensing from the sharp pain before breaking down into broken down sobs. She tries to resist by getting up, but you keep her in place as she whines, adamant in believing that she can’t handle it any more. 

“Oh no, we’re not through yet,” you hiss, not paying any attention to the stray heel hitting your thigh in retaliation. “Not until you tell me that this won’t happen again going forward.”

“Just for the record, sir,” Her hand grips the underside of your forearm at the same time your weight begins to stack along her back, furrowing her brows and gritting her teeth. “I wanted this.” 

“So are we going to have a problem like this again next time?” 

“Absolu-” 

The leather belt finds her ass again, the crack in the atmosphere strong enough to mistake for the clap of lightning. 

“No,” she pleads, twisting her head back and forth, sounding off another thwap to make a point. “No sir, we’re not going to have another problem with this ever again.” 

“Good,” you say, the formality alone shortly returning, hands hovering over to her wrists, slackening the belt as you begin to wrap it around her. You’re keeping focus, maintaining your thoughts meticulously, fighting your cock that’s beginning to ache in your trousers. “I’m gonna take good care of you now.” 

Once you’ve got the leather fastened around her wrists, there’s another fill to be satisfied when you slip your fingers back into her cunt, throbbing at the way you curl them inside, earning a few harmonious sounds as her back arches to the touch. She’s melting by the second, “Yes, yes, please sir, I want-” 

“Speak up,” you breathe, sinking down to your knees, hands resting at the rise of her hips, glistening lips into view. Everything about her is a new learning curve, and the way her lower half is still hung over the edge, ankles neatly crossed together like her bound wrists, you almost feel bad for enacting this onto her. 

Keyword almost, and you put your mouth on her other set of lips. Unsure, testing, getting those first savoring seconds up her wet cunt. Her whole body pulls inward, choking down a cry, and you realize, this woman is filled with surprises. 

But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, the shivers she dishes out, the string of hums continue to leave her mouth. This wasn’t the time to keep the niceties - shoving your whole face and tongue into her pussy, tongue slipping through her opening in these strokes, body contracting and relaxing. The fingers also come into play, tapping along her clit and eventually dipping in to where your tongue can’t reach, the wetness soaking your fingers, the short grasps letting you know of that beautiful high fast approaching. 

“I’m gonna-” she says, voice peaking in a higher pitch than the last, the balls of her feet hitting your chest, holding her down at the bottom of her thigh and ass. “Sir, I’m gonna fucking-” 

“That fast?” you ask, gaze glassy, drunk on the sweet slick that’s all over your lips. Biting down the laugh from the top of your throat, “And here I thought you’d hold out a bit longer for me there.” 

She pulls her body up with what little strength she has while being tied up. Panting. Heaving. You’re content with the structured appearance of her face completely ruined, tense, letting her eyelids flutter when she feels your finger slip inside her once more, because another feeling like this wouldn’t really hurt anyone. 

“Final question. Are you going to be good for me from here on out?” 

There’s a silver lining with the sense of humiliation you’re giving her, nearly sympathetic when your knuckle finds its way deeper. It’s wrong, you think, to be like this, but you’ve learned with the years of experience of being in this place that people will only listen when backed to a corner with no other way out. Everyone here is aware of the rapport you have with others, the kind of power that shouldn’t be really shown until it’s a desperate call to make to ensure everyone’s on the same page as you. This time isn’t really different. 

But still, it’s a first with her, and you’ll take this grand opportunity to pressure her into not making another issue for the next time. 

“Dahyun,” you’re telling her again, because she’s just staring at you in awe. The way you’ve been handling her; professional at the surface level, finding a pressure point to the things that she’s been accused of committing, drawing that out of her by any means necessary, until you’ve managed to break her. “Answer me, darling.” 

She comes back to her senses when her body shifts more inward to the wood, resting right at the bending point of her hips, listening to the zip from your pants. The most evil thing she’s done all day: a sly smile breaking across her face, watching you tease the head of your cock along her wet lips. This will be a problem, but a welcome one. You’re hoping that you’ve done your part to the best of your ability. 

“Yes sir,” she answers, shimmying her hips to tease. “I’ll be really good for you. I promise.” 

“I hope so.” you retort, “I can be very convincing.” 

A slip inside, a slow push. It’s electric. Further. Deeper. Filling her cunt up, her walls leisurely stretch around you. The heat alone is euphoric, coming to you in a fast rush. You hold yourself in for as long as possible, but it’s futile; she may have a few screws loose in the head, but you’re not far off the mark as well. 

“God,” she mumurus again, and you drag yourself out slightly. Back in nicely, smoothly into that heat, until Dahyun nods her head in approval. She gasps again when you move past the previous spot your cock was inside her, nearly to the base. 

“Oh, my fucking-” 

A shared gluttal moan parts from your chest and hers, eyes fixated on the sight of your slicked up cock carefully impaling Dahyun, the friction becoming more and more addicting. The muscles in her back start to freeze up along with her clenched hands, fighting against the leather around them. You make it easier for her case, lifting her chest up at the breast, leaning down to seize her lips on yours, holding her steady, cock carving up her walls with every building thrust. 

Nose against her cheek, “This cunt,” you utter, pushing yourself deep as this girl is faltering moans with every hit your hips make with her sore, red ass, “I can’t believe how tight this grips me, god- fucking, no wonder he wanted to keep seeing you in the first place,” and you lean down the line of her back, letting her pussy clench around your cock, feeling the clutch of her walls, all wet and aching for more. 

The thrusting starts to pick up, unrestrained and unrelenting now. You’re not even sure what to do with your hands, alternating between holding at the endpoint of her waist where her hips meet or press her unbelievable thighs together, to make the press around your cock that much better. A premature call to make, in comparison to the other’s that have preceded Dahyun: her pussy takes it in so well, you could bury yourself inside her for what feels like forever. 

“Sir,” she groans out, the sentence being cut off with another slap to her ass, following up with the crash of your hips into hers, holding on to her binded wrists. “Please, please, please-” 

“Please what, hmm?” You can’t really conjure up the proper thoughts to put in conversation, heaving out scattered spells of air with every stroke into her. “You’ve gotta help me out here.” 

“Need more.” It’s a request for sure, and not a vague one. “Please keep fucking me.” 

You do give her more, and nothing less. With every passing second you dive deep into her cunt, the beating in your heart accelerates just that teeny bit faster. The thoughts are out the window at this point, the only thing keeping you from figuratively passing out is the sopping wetness of her cunt every time you pull out and drive back in. The pace gets a bit faster, then you dial it back, watch as her upper body convulses across the desk, mouth hung open for all the moans to be let out, getting louder, more higher, and needier. 

She gasps when you hold yourself inside, thrown off guard with the firm hit you give her, a moment to catch her breath. “Wait, no, fuck, why did you-” 

Dahyun had managed to do something to you that the others couldn’t in this short span of time: break you. Even after all this time, it’s really interesting how the very person you’ve been wanting to see out for an instance like this is the one that’s managed to make you go all out into setting them right. She’s spearheading this thing, and not you. When it should be the other way around. 

A fistful of her hair is grabbed, and her body is raised up, hips flush with hers. “If I hear another question leave your sultry lips, I’ll tape it up so that nobody can hear you screaming down the hallways.” 

She bites her wobbling bottom lip, assuring you that’s exactly what she wants to happen, and it will. Her half-open eyes sees your head go sideways, planting a kiss down her neck, inching your cock deeper into her cunt past the hilt and her body shudders at it. 

“Want me to fuck some sense into you now? Properly? Fuck this pretty little pussy that it’ll make you think right?” 

She nods desperately, “Yes sir. Please.” 

You bend her over across the desk again, hand still tangled into her hair with the other resting at her hips. The pace deliberate at first, savoring the sensation of how her body takes you, parting her folds with every inch of your shaft. She shivers when you tease her still, not going all the way, but making her earn it. 

Now wasn’t the time for easygoing now, the sight of her backside is an eighth wonder of the world to admire, sliding out and dragging your cock back into her, gradually increasing as the additional slaps to her ass again, fucking her deep. You eventually decided that she’s served her punishment long enough, untying the belt at her hands and discarding it somewhere in the office, putting her hands up to the other end of the desk for her to hold on as you mercilessly bury your cock into her. 

“Sir, I can’t keep- fuck!” she cries out, the litany of lovely whines and sounds the more you fill her up. She also takes the liberty of letting you take a breather, moving her hips back, bouncing her ass with you just standing there, watching as her perfect ass does this little ripple effect on the skin, jiggling with an endless movement. 

It was getting all too much, and Dahyun herself was enjoying it as well, smiling with every groan that rips from your throat, hand floating over her hips, piercing your cock roughly back into her again and again, unwilling to yield the remaining bits of pleasure before either you or her reach that point-

“I’m gonna fucking- god, sir, keep going, so close-” she strains, gripping your wrists and tight enough for her to rip them off. 

“Don’t fight me,” you spit, voice leaning towards something primal, “Cum all over this cock.” And she does. 

Your muscles should be spent at this rate, but they hold out long enough as your ears are picking up the endless babbles and whimpers, mixed in with the sloppy strokes of your hips hitting hers. The mind is overloaded with so much, but your hands find rest at her ass again, burying yourself deep. And then it hits you in a flash. 

One firm hit sheathing your cock into her cunt, and you pull out, cumming all over the fine plane of her ass. You’ll need to take a mental image to save for eternity - the way you’re painting in these lovely slashes with your release, all over her ass, her back - because you learn that she looks amazingly good like that. A fine figure, waiting to be defiled and tarnished, and it happens. 

“God, would you look at-” you’re also left in disbelief, the grip around your cock loosening, eyes on leaking pussy lips, she’s hung down, face off to the side, eyes closed, steadily breathing. The words coming out of her mouth are inconceivable, but she’s thankful, praising you, giving thanks. Judging from how content she looks, proves that your hard work is done.

“S-sir,” she tries to say, still left speechless. 

A kiss to the temple of her head, and a ruffle with your hand sliding down to her back. “So, are we satisfied with your conversation?” 

Dahyun takes a minute or two, maybe more, to process everything that’s happened just now. She’s still on your desk, and you’re getting right back to it, slipping on your slacks, picking up the tossed belt that you used as a makeshift rope. Your ears pick up on the heavy breathing from her as she slowly gets up, hands giving her support on the desk, dazed and astounded once things start returning back to normal. 

You fix up the rolled up sleeves of your shirt; Dahyun blankly stares out in space, fixing up her dress and placing some of the various items hit in the crossfire back in their right spot, off the floor and somewhere where you’ll fix soon. 

“Dahyun?” you ask again, watching as she starts to make her way out the door. “Overseer.” 

She turns at the title, realizing she left behind a vital piece to her appearance, dipping her head down in embarrassment, but you can already see the blush breaking through her cheeks. Her breathing is also irregular, but it’s a lot calmer than before. 

“Sorry,” she says, squaring her shoulders, a hand taking the heels in yours. “Thank you, for- uhm, the persuasion.” 

An inquisitive look is what you give her. Meeting your gaze, you notice a few stray strands out of place in her hair, take it upon yourself to use the tip of your pinky to move it away from her forehead. Not much is left said between the two of you, probably just small talk or the comfort of silence finally setting in like before. You can’t really seem to get over the wistful constellations behind the lenses in her eyes - and it’s something that you want to study more about. 

“Right,” you tell her, patting her shoulder before guiding her to the doorway, fingers fast to the touchpad and the quick clicks of the deadbolt finally opens it. “I’m happy enough to see you again, without the intent of correcting your little issue.” 

Dahyun nods in agreement, pulling both of her lips inward to force back the smile, but you see right through her. She begins to make her way out, bare feet on the floor, heels in her hand - a solid lasting impression after today.

“Before I forget Dahyun,” you’re calling out again, and she twists her head around to meet your eyes, “Let’s speak again sometime soon okay? My door will be open for you if needed.” 

She squints, smiling a bit to where you see the bottom bits of her teeth. You give her a nod to emphasize your point. “Count on it sir. I guess I’ll be coming around more often, then.” 

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[nena-la-fresa]

can i ask u a Josh Washigton x reader request? I would love to read an scenario were its the reader's birthday🥹

Keep It Warm

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Pairing: Josh Washington x f! Reader

Warning: Fluff | A tiny bit of Angst | Mental Institution Mentioned | Birthday |

Word Count: 685

A/n: Hopefully this is okay. I feel like I can’t make a Josh fic without some sort of angst. Sorry it's super short. I have a lot of class assignments due this week so my focus is on that rn. Off topic but I'm thinking about making a Mr.Robot fic. Im back in my Rami Malek era.

“You are receiving a call from Ocean View Hospital. Would you like to accept?” 

“Yes.”

The line was then connected. 

“Hey sweetheart. How are you?” You could hear his sly look through the phone. 

You leaned against the wall fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

“I’m good. How about yourself?” You missed hearing his voice. 

“I’m good now.” 

“Oh are you really?” 

“Yeah. I’m just glad I get to hear you talk. It’s a good distraction from all this.” 

“I’m glad I can distract you for a bit.” 

You had been friends with Josh since you both were little. You had always known something was a bit different with him. But it wasn’t until you both started dating that you had fully known the extent of his condition. Josh would wake up during the night screaming, he’d have a hard time recognizing you at times.

“So my birthday’s coming up.”

“It is, isn't it.” 

“Do you think you’ll finally be out by then?”

“I’m not too sure babe. But if I’m doing better by then you'll be the first to know.” 

You felt slightly disappointed but you knew he was in there to get the help he needed. 

That was 3 weeks ago. 

You hadn’t heard from Josh since that last phone call. He hadn’t been returning your letters or phone calls. You had begun to assume the worst. What if he didn’t want to talk to you anymore? Or what if he regressed? What if his meds stopped working. Even when you asked Hannah and Beth they hadn’t been able to contact him either. 

All you could think about was the day you found him. You could still see it. He was passed out on the floor. He was unresponsive for a good minute before you had to throw cold water on him. He was sobbing, saying how he wasn’t good enough for you. Saying that he didn’t deserve you. But those sobs quickly turned to anger, not at you but to whatever was talking around him. He swatted trying to get the voices away from him. But what really did it for him was when he accidentally hit you. The guilt that he felt, he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t aiming for you. He couldn’t even see you with his delusions tormenting him. That was what really made him commit himself. 

Hannah knew how upset you were but she thought it would be a good idea to take you to the cabin for your birthday. You had always said it was your favorite place to go. 

You and Hannah were already making your way to the cable cart, “Didn’t you say Beth was going to meet us here?” 

Hanna turned slightly to you, “Yeah, she got cold and just texted me that she was going to go ahead to the cabin.”

You nodded. After the walking you could finally see the cabin in sight. It was just as beautiful as you remembered it. Hannah held the door open for you as you walked in first. You felt your body jolt from the yelling. 

“Surprise!” Little poppers and kazoos echoed through the room. 

“Aw you guys.” You felt your eyes tear up a bit. From the excitement but also from the disappointment. Out of all the faces there, the one you wanted the most wasn’t there. 

You let out a surprised scream feeling someone picking you up from behind. As soon as you were set back down you saw who it was. 

Until you felt someone pick you up from behind 

It was him. 

“What did you think I forgot?”

You felt the tears run down your face. You nodded slightly.

"Now why would I forget about you."

You hugged him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around you.

“When did they let you out?”

“About three days ago.”

“Why didn't you tell me”

“I wanted to surprise you. I'm sorry”

“No, I'm just so happy. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I promise I won’t miss another one.”

He wiped your tears, “I missed you so much. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.” 

[nhlclover]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐊𝐈𝐃

madeleine chase x will smith

will goes on a podcast and reveals to the world his gushing crush on pop star, madeleine chase (wc; 1.11k)

༉‧₊˚. ꒰ notes! ꒱ this is lowkey inspired by how tate mcrae and cole sillinger first got together + what will said in a podcast about tate mcrae (literally every man is obsessed with her and so am i)

au masterlist

It had been about a week since Will had moved to San Jose and he was… settling. California was very different from Massachusetts and everything was new. From the weather to the people, everything was unfamiliar to Will. His teammates — another new thing Will was getting used to — had been nothing but welcoming. They had been showing him around the area and making sure he was settling in well—especially the Marleau family who were taking him in for his first year in San Jose.

He appreciated their efforts, even though the move was still overwhelming at times. The sunny, warm weather of California was a stark contrast to the often chilly and unpredictable climate of Massachusetts, and it was both a blessing and a challenge to adapt to. The culture here was more laid-back, and people seemed to carry an air of casualness that Will wasn’t entirely accustomed to.

In the midst of all these changes, he was dealing with the start of the hockey season, which brought on a lot of commitments. Despite today being a rest day from all of the beginning of the season media, Will was sitting in the Empty Netters podcast studio. Will had met Dan and Chris, the two hosts, a while back, promising them he’d come on when he got signed by the Sharks. Months later, Will was fulfilling his promise.

“Alright, Will, welcome to the Empty Netters pod! Glad to have you here,” said Chris.

“Thank you for having me,” Will said, smiling politely.

“So, you've been in San Jose for what—about two weeks? How’s the transition going? It’s gotta be a change from Massachusetts." Dan asked.

Will nodded, leaning into the mic a bit. “Yeah, about that but it feels like longer with everything going on. It’s been go, go, go since I got here but California’s great. And everyone’s been super welcoming, especially the Marleau family. They’ve really helped me get settled.”

Dan grinned. “Yeah, you got blessed with your living situation for your first year. I mean Patrick Marleau is a legend.”

“Not bad at all,” Will chuckled, relaxing a little. “They’ve been great. Showing me around, and introducing me to some good spots to eat. I’m trying to figure out the whole California lifestyle.”

The conversation flowed easily as they touched on his early career, what he was looking forward to with the Sharks and a few lighter topics.

“Okay, Will, to end this interview we just want to do some rapid-fire questions, alright? So these are just random.” Chris asked.

“Yeah, ok, sounds good,” Will replied.

“Great, first question,” Chris said, glancing at his notes. “What's your favorite movie?”

Will thought for a moment, debating between the movies he loved. “I'd have to say 'Good Will Hunting'. It's a classic and, well, it's set in Boston. Reminds me of home.”

Both Dan and Chris nodded appreciatively. “Nice choice,” Dan answered. “Alright, next up: what's your go-to comfort food?”

“Probably a good lobster roll,” Will replied instantly. “It's practically a staple back home.”

“A lobster roll from Cape Cod sounds fucking delicious.” Chris agreed.

“Alright, final question,” Dan says. “Who is your celebrity crush?”

“Madeleine Chase,” Will says without hesitation.

Both Dan and Chris burst into laughter at Will’s quick answer, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he realizes his eagerness. “Damn, you were ready for that question,” Chris says through laughter. “Can you expand on why she is your celebrity crush?”

Will chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I mean, first of all, she’s gorgeous. I keep seeing photos of her performing for Taylor Swift in Europe and… whew.” Will answers, getting another chorus of laughter from the podcast hosts. “But also there’s something about her vibe. She seems really down-to-earth and genuine. I’ve seen her in interviews and she’s got a great sense of humor.”

Dan grinned. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” Will admitted, laughing. “But, you know, it’s hard not to admire someone like that. She’s got the whole package.”

“Quick, favorite song of hers?” Chris asked.

Will didn’t have to think much before answering. “Close To You. It’s just such a fun song to listen to.”

“If you have a message for Madeleine that we might be able to get to her at some point, what would it be?” Dan asked.

Will chuckled, questioning if he really wanted to it all out bare on this podcast. “Answer my DM,” he said, confidence lacing his tone.

“No way you’ve DM’ed her.” Chris laughed.

Will simply shrugged, laughing along with the two brothers. Dan leaned in with mock seriousness. "Alright, Sharks fans, you heard it here first—Will Smith’s got game both on and off the ice."

As the podcast wrapped up, Will thanked Chris and Dan, and they walked him out. His agent was waiting, jumping straight into talking about his schedule, but Will wasn't really listening. He was still stuck replaying the last part of the interview in his head.

Did I really just say that? His mind replayed the last part of the interview—talking about Madeleine Chase with no filter, like some lovestruck kid. He cringed inwardly, imagining how it must have sounded to anyone listening. He could already hear the ribbing from his teammates once this went live, and he cringed. His agent's voice was just white noise now as Will’s thoughts spiraled, imagining the potential fallout.

Answer my DM. The words bounced around his head like an unwelcome reminder of how he’d opened himself up for a joke. What if she actually did hear it? He wasn’t sure what compelled him to be so bold, especially considering they didn’t know each other. Will had always been reserved, especially in public settings, and now he felt like he'd let his guard down too much.

“Will? You listening?” his agent said, snapping him out of his daze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Will replied quickly, though he wasn’t. He pulled out his phone, hovering over the podcast's social media page. Maybe I can ask them to cut that part out… no, that’s ridiculous. It’s too late. He forced himself to put his phone away, trying to focus on anything else but the possibility of his comment blowing up online.

Will sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to shake off the doubt. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. They laughed, so it couldn’t have been too cringey… right?

Still, the uncertainty weighed on him. California was supposed to be a fresh start, but at that moment, Will couldn’t help but feel like he’d already stumbled out of the gate.

[bomber-grl]

Grell Sutcliff Dating Hc! —☆⋆｡𖦹🖇️

Pairing(s): Grell Sutcliff x Gn!Reader

Disclaimer! I’ve only watched the anime and I’m semi aware of how she’s mischaracterized (according to others(?)) in it in comparison to the manga. So, these hc are solely based on the anime

We’ve seen how she is when she’s interested in someone and so just imagine her in an actual relationship 💀

She’s constantly fonding over you at minimum and spouting profanities you’d rather not have to hear again at most

I mean the fact you’re together is obviously because you matched her freak

Anyway, the more surface level of her personality is her constant coddling, hugs, and overall lovey dovey self

If anything it’s just her reaction to hot people which i can’t even blame😭

Now, if you’re more shy leaning Grell thinks you’re so cute

The urge to trap you in a bone crushing hug deepens immensely

However, if you’re more bold and straightforward she’ll really play into it

Again, everyone just disregards when she’s like this so she really falls head over heels x 2

And if you pick her up? Deceased x2

Obviously she’s glad to have you around for practically forever if you’re a divine being but if you’re human

The angst 😭

You’re the first person she’s every genuinely connected with and felt understood by

Especially with her identity

So I imagine you dying had crossed her mind a few times before but the thought was too painful to ever actually continue thinking it

So the day that she saw your name amongst the people she had to kill- two words

Mental breakdown

Either you choose to die by her hand or kys to become a grim reaper, literally the only solutions

It’s like that one audio where it’s like “bye Abby, I’ll see you when you wake up, and if you don’t wake up, I’ll still see you cause I’m gonna meet you in heaven or whatever

Sorry I just realized these are supposed to be relationship hc and not so gruesome 😭

Anyway, regardless of your race (?) Your relationship is still very much existent and there’s nothing grell or you could do about it

I mean I mighttt be going boarderline ooc like the the far depths sort of level but if you’re in a committed relationship and anyone alludes to you trying to leave her

Let’s just say we hope they don’t or she’ll be extra possessive to a crazy extent💀

Also if you’re constantly surrounding yourself with grell then you’re bound to interact with Ciel and his lot

So what I’m trying to say is, you’re like that one stereotypical couple with over the top PDA where it’s sickening to them

Also if you don’t like it (pda) she’ll be a bit sad but she’ll try to respect it

Now if you’re a romantic she’s constantly happy

Especially when you go out on a picnic, get her nice things and do silly things like carry her

Despite these “happier” moments there’s eventual solemn topics (like her death) that she talks about with you

I mean she’s sharing personal things with someone she trusts but it’s still nervwrecking

Also, you Can’t tell me Grell wouldn’t absolutely defend you with her life(?)

Even if it ends with her being trampled 💀

[too-much-tma-stuff]

In the Light of Day (part 9)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

In the two weeks since the raid on the GIW base Jason and Danny had been receiving regular updates from Tim about how Ellie was doing with the Teen Titans. She seemed like she was settling in well, and recovering from everything that she had been through slowly but surely. In a way Danny was really glad she hadn’t been entirely stable, the GIW hadn’t been able to do much to her before she started destabilizing. It was bad enough of course, and she had plenty of lingering trauma, but she hadn’t been broken in the same way he had. She hadn’t reached out yet, but just knowing that she was out there and she was okay soothed his broken edges tremendously. 

She was getting along well with Superboy, they were supporting each other well and Superboy had taken on an almost brotherly role with her. She was getting into chaos with Impulse, and generally… having a good time. Danny had even seen some pictures of her which had made him cry again while Jason held him.

Tim had also used a secure line to ask Danny some clarifying questions about the information on the USB he’d given him. Danny had been as open about everything as he could without sending himself into a panic, and didn’t hear back from Tim for a few more days before he suddenly showed up in crime alley one night dressed as Robin. 

“Your family has a habit of unscheduled visits huh?” Danny commented to Jason over the coms as he headed to intercept Tim. Jason couldn’t do it because was finishing up his work, and waiting to hear what Tim wanted to see if he actually needed to leave early or not.

“Ya,” Jason agreed with a slightly sheepish laugh. “Boundaries are not something this family has ever been good at. We can try to enforce them more if it’s bothering you?”

“No, that’s alright. I’m glad you have a better relationship with them now and I like them well enough too,” Danny assured before launching himself off one rooftop, flying across the gap between buildings and half tackling Tim making him yelp. They rolled across the roof as Danny gave a play growl and Tim grappled with him for a few moments. 

It had spooked Tim the first time Danny had done this, because he thought Danny was actually mad at him, but now he understood that it was just in play. Indulging it made Danny happy so Tim didn’t really mind, it was part of the way he bonded apparently. If Danny was actually mad Tim didn’t like his chances honestly.

“So, what do you need?” Danny asked once Tim had tapped out (he rarely won these little wrestles, and when he did it felt distinctly like Danny had let him win).

“I want to talk to you and Red Hood about something serious,” Robin told Danny with a little frown. “Do you have time tonight, or I can come back later.”

“Hood? Can you get away tonight?” Danny asked, tapping into the com.

“Ya, give me an hour. Take the baby bird home and put the kettle on, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jason confirmed. Danny passed the message along and Tim nodded distractedly, following Danny home and accepting a cup of tea which he didn’t actually drink.

He was quiet as they waited for Jason to get home. Tim had a way of sitting unnervingly still in moments like this, it was almost like he was on pause. He didn’t start moving again until Jason arrived and had been handed a fresh cup of tea by Danny. 

“So, what did you want to talk about Tim?” Jason asked and Tim unpaused with a blink and a little shake. 

“I’m working on a presentation for the Justice League about the atrocities committed by the GIW and the anti-ecto acts that enable them,” Tim said bluntly. 

Jason put down his mug abruptly with a clatter and Danny let out a startled snarl. They shared a look of concern and suspicion and then looked back at Tim. They were willing to hear him out, even if it was an uncomfortable topic.

“I would appreciate it if you would look over the presentation, or maybe let me practice it on you, before I give it to them to make sure it’s accurate and respectful. I would also consider it a personal favour if you would come to the meeting yourselves, as representatives of the people who’ve been affected by these laws. Obviously, you don’t have to, but Ellie already agreed to come with us and I thought you might want to be there for her.” 

“I’ll go,” Danny said immediately. He hadn’t wanted to, but if Ellie was going then he wasn’t going to leave her to face this alone. She was a very brave and capable girl, but she was technically only about five years old, and Vlad hadn’t exactly done a perfect job cloning her so her knowledge and capabilities could be... patchy. He wasn’t going to leave her to face this alone, even if going to this meeting and facing the Justice League was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Well, I guess if he’s going I have to too,” Jason sighed begrudgingly with a shrug. “You and Big Wing will be there?” Jason asked Tim, who nodded. “Good, where will the meeting take place?” 

“Probably the Watchtower,” Tim admitted with a little shrug. 

“Is that the one that’s in space?” Danny demanded excitedly. The abrupt change of tone took Tim off guard but he nodded. “Awesome! Are there observation rooms? If there are, I demand time there if we’re going to see! I want to see SPACE!” 

Tim gaped at Danny a little and Jason laughed fondly. Danny seemed to realize he’d gotten a little too excited and blushed a little, smiling sheepishly at them. 

“Sure, I can probably arrange that,” Tim agreed with a little shrug. 

“Great, let us know as soon as you have a date for that. I want as much time as possible to prepare for it, and I refuse to agree to anything besides a non-aggression pact beforehand,” Jason told Tim firmly who just nodded absently. 

“Ya no worries, you don’t have to agree to anything, Dick and I are planning to smuggle you both in anyway,” Tim said, nodding absently. 

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission?” Jason asked with a snort of amusement. Tim gave him a conspiratorial smirk and nodded, making Jason laugh properly. “You know, if you’d lead with the fact this would piss off Bruce I would have agreed right away,” Jason joked and Danny cackled.

“But that’s not the purpose, that’s just a bonus,” Tim said with an impish smile.

“I like you kid. Ya, we’ll be there to support you,” Jason confirmed without hesitation this time.

----------

Danny had corrected a few things in Tim’s presentation for him, mostly about ghosts, or ecto-entity’s, behaviour and culture. He obviously wasn’t telling Tim everything that he knew, but it was enough that if the Justice League came into contact with them through all this they wouldn’t cause terrible offense or get themselves killed. Tim questioned how Danny knew all this but he had just given an enigmatic smile and refused to answer the questions. Tim had sighed and accepted the secrecy, hoping he could get Ellie to tell him later.

Only once both Elie and Danny had approved the presentation did Tim go ahead with requesting a meeting with the full JL about something urgent, but not so urgent it couldn’t be worked into peoples schedules in a week or so. As soon as he knew when it would be (Thursday at 3 pm) Tim told Jason and Danny, just like they’d asked.

They found out that knowing was a double edged sword. On one hand it was more time to prepare, on the other it was more time to panic, and Jason could tell Danny was panicking. Jason wasn’t looking forward to it either, but he was not freaking out the way that Danny was, so he set his own nerves aside and focused on helping his boyfriend. Including calming him down from three panic attacks! 

Jason was fairly used to Danny’s panic attacks, and knew they ranged from sobbing, trembling breakdowns to violent outbursts. His outbursts were more controlled then Jason’s at least, he would hate to see what true pit madness would look like with Danny’s power. Just the taste from facing the GIW was more than enough.

Jason had learned how to deal with all of Danny’s episodes over the course of their relationship, but three in a week was more than he’d ever seen Danny have and Jason didn’t know how to help. He knew how to get Danny through his panic attacks themselves of course, but he had no idea what to say to actually make Danny feel better and stop having panic attacks. It seemed like this was something they just needed to weather, though Jason wasn’t happy about it.

He understood completely why Danny was scared of course. He was going to have to face a lot of traumas in this, and ones he couldn't just smash, kill, and blow up like the GIW, complicated ones. At least they wouldn’t be alone, and being reminded Dick, Tim, and Ellie would be there to back them up if needed did seem to make Danny feel a little better at least. 

The night before the meeting they were laying in bed together with Jason half sprawled on top of Danny like a weighted blanket. Jason had bought him an actual weighted blanket, but he still preferred Jason when he was available. Maybe because Danny produced very little body heat on his own and Jason was a walking furnace, but probably just because he loved Jason. 

“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” Jason murmured, nuzzling into Danny’s neck and breathing in his scent, like freshly fallen snow and lighting infused air. 

“No, but I’ll manage,” Danny sighed back, carding his fingers through Jason’s hair. 

“Is there anything I need to know before the meeting?” 

“Maybe,” Danny conceded. He didn’t continue right away so Jason stayed quiet, giving Danny the time he needed to arrange his thoughts before sharing them. “I don’t think it will come up, but just in case… I’m technically the crown prince of the Infinite Realms.” He sounded almost sheepish. 

It took Jason a moment to process what Danny had said and then he sat up abruptly, looking down at Danny in disbelief. He gave Jason a nervous smile, looking a little ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, what?” Jason tried not to snap at Danny, he winced anyway.

“Ya, the crown of the Infinite Realms is passed through Trial by Combat. The previous king Pariah is an asshole who was bound in the coffin of Forever Sleep ages ago, but all the ancients had to work together to do it so they couldn’t actually take the crown. Since it has to be single combat, you know? When I was 16 my late bastard of a godfather released Pariah from the coffin and I defeated him one on one. I escaped taking the crown by a technicality because I forced him back into the coffin instead of ending him, but everyone expects that when I’m older and more stable I’ll go back and defeat him properly and take the crown.

“Like, there’s a prophecy about it, that the true king would be a halfa? That’s why Pariah killed them all in the first place. I’m not king technically, but plenty of ghosts already swear loyalty to me whether I want them to or not.” Danny looked sad, and scared, Jason took pity on him and lay back down with him, pulling him close. 

“You don’t have to be king then, right?” Jason questioned, since it was obvious Danny didn’t want this. “You still have a choice.”

“Not really,” Danny admitted with a sigh, looking away. “Someone will let Pariah out of his coffin again eventually, and when he does I’ll be the only one able to defeat him. So when that time comes my options will be to beat him myself or let him take over the world again. I guess I could force him back into the coffin again to try and delay it further, but the Council would probably start getting antsy and let him out themselves to try and force the issue and I’d still only be delaying the inevitable. It’s very unlikely that anyone as strong as me will come along in the next… millennia.”

“Damn…” Jason breathed, turning that over in his head for a moment before he let out an incredulous little laugh. “Well that’s one hell of a trump card to have in your back pocket if anyone tries to give you trouble. I mean you probably have diplomatic immunity or some shit.” 

The comment startled a laugh out of Danny as well. “Ya, I guess so! I hadn’t thought about that. Well, I still won’t say anything if I can help it but I guess that’s a card I can keep up my sleeve if we need it,” Danny allowed with a half smile. 

“I know you said you’re not ready for the meeting, but I know that you are. It’s going to be hard, but you are ready, and I’ll be there with you. You can do this for us, can’t you?” Jason asked, knowing that Danny was more inclined to push through if he wasn’t just doing something for himself. 

“Ya, I can do that,” Danny promised, nuzzling into Jason’s hair. He seemed more relaxed now thankfully. 

“Good, now get some sleep,” Jason directed and smiled a little when Danny snuggled closer and closed his slightly luminescent blue eyes. “Sweet dreams Moonlight, I love you.”

“You got it Boss. I love you too,” Danny sighed contentedly.

The next morning was an early one for them. Mostly because once they woke up neither of them could get back to sleep, so even though they hadn’t gone to bed until almost 2 am (thank you vigilante schedule) they were both up by seven. Brewing strong coffee in the kitchen and making scrambled eggs and toast since Jason couldn’t be bothered with anything fancy. 

With several hours till the meeting and nothing to do, they settled for rewatching some of their favourite movies and comfort eating some junk food. It was too early to go out and cause any real mayhem anyway. Finally it was time to suit up and go meet Dick and Tim so they could smuggle Red Hood and Hyena into The Watchtower. It was easy enough, Batman had gone in early and Hood already knew exactly where the Batcave was, so they just met up there and used the zeta-tube.

It had been a long time since Jason had been on one of those things and Danny never had, so they approached it with some trepidation. Danny in particular was eyeing the machine with wariness bordering on fear. Jason heard him mutter; “Cool, ya, I’ll just get into the giant metal tube, as if that didn’t kill me last time,” so he could guess the zeta-tube resembled whatever had killed him before, good to know. 

Dick went first, cheerfully saying it was to make sure the coast was clear, though Jason suspected it was really because he had noticed Hyena’s nerves and wanted to prove it was safe. Once he’d texted Tim that everything was fine Jason grabbed Danny’s hand and walked with him into the tube confidently. Danny was reluctant, but he let Jason tug him along, and since he could have easily stopped them both, that was good enough consent.

Jason felt a familiar swoop in his just as they were swept away in the beam, and caught Danny when their feet hit the floor again and he stumbled. “See? Not dead,” Jason joked to his partner as he held Danny close, feeling his slight trembling subside quickly. 

“Are you sure?” Danny joked weakly, looking a little paler than usual. 

“You’re not going to be sick are you?” Jason asked worriedly. 

Danny took a deep breath and shook his head; “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Good, then let’s get out of the way so Robin can Zeta in,” Jason promoted. 

Reminded that they were still in the tube Danny practically dragged Jason out. To his surprise it wasn’t just Nightwing waiting for them, but all of the Teen Titans, including their newest member. 

“Little Star,” Danny breathed, his eyes wide above his mask. Phantasm looked shy, shifting from foot to foot with barely contained nervous energy. Danny smiled behind his mask and lifted his arms, which she threw herself into immediately, clinging desperately to her template. Danny hugged her back just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched her to his chest.

“Why didn’t you come to visit me? I missed you,” Phantasm questioned tearfully. 

“I missed you too, I just wasn’t sure you’d want to know me like I am now,” Danny explained softly. 

“Of course I do! We’re family,” Ellie said, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Then you’re always welcome where I am Starlight. I still can’t take care of you properly, and I think you should stay with them. But come visit me whenever you want, whatever you need,” Danny promised her gently.

“I will,” Phantasm agreed, finally letting go of Danny so she could wipe the tears from her face, sniffling a little. “I know you can’t have me stay with you right now. I can feel…” She trailed off, glancing around them, remembering they had an audience and reconsidering what she was going to say. Danny appreciated that since he was pretty sure she was about to bring up his cracked core. “I know you have a lot of healing to do too, so you can’t be worrying about me all the time.” 

“I’ll always worry about you, Phantasm, you’re basically my daughter,” Danny laughed, and let her lightly wack his arm for it. “I just can’t… support you right now.”

“I understand, it’s okay,” Phantasm reassured him with a sad little smile. 

“Great, are you guys ready for the meeting now?” Tim butted in a little callously, earning a glare from Dick. “We’re a bit late so everyone else should be there by now.” 

“Sure, let’s do this,” Danny agreed, grabbing Jason’s hand again tightly. "It's time to get all this shit out in the light of day."

[jaikoyaki]

Stop staring, Kang Haerin!

CHAPTER 1:

Love Hate at first sight.

Masterlist - next

SYPNOSIS:Haerin, the vice president of the debate club, always seemed to give you cold, dismissive looks—or at least, that's what you thought. Convinced she couldn’t stand you, you never expected to have anything to do with her. You assumed she just hated you. But when the club loses a key member before an important competition, you—known for your academic excellence—are the obvious choice to step in.

Words: 1.2k

You stood outside the debate clubroom, staring at the door as if it might bite you. You hadn’t expected to be here, let alone as the club’s last-minute solution to their unexpected crisis. It was only a week ago that your best friend practically begged you to join, explaining that one of the club’s key members had transferred schools. She made it sound like the club would collapse if you didn't join, a bit dramatic maybe, but it worked. So, here you were.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

The room fell silent as the members looked up from their seats. It wasn’t a large group, but it was definitely enough to make you feel out of place. You quickly scanned the room and spotted her—the person you had been dreading ever since your best friend mentioned you joining: Kang Haerin. Vice president of the debate club. Everyone knew about her, with her sharp mind and even sharper stare. She sat near the center, her arms resting on the table as she fidgeted with her fingers, her gaze fixed on you in a way that sent a chill down your spine. You had never spoken to her before, but you always seemed to lock eyes with her in the hallways or the cafeteria, only to be met with that piercing stare. Over time, you just assumed she didn’t like you.

Your heart sank a little as you caught her eyes again just like almost everyday. She was staring at you like you were an unwanted intruder, her gaze hardening the longer you stood there. Her expression gave nothing away, but it felt like judgment, and it made you want to turn around and leave.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You’d already committed to this.

"L/N, I'm so glad you could make it!" the club president—Danielle, said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "We’ll start with introductions. Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s joining us to help out with our upcoming competition."

You gave a nervous smile and waved awkwardly, trying not to glance at Haerin again. But it was impossible not to feel her eyes on you.

What the hell did you even do?

You quickly tried to shake the thoughts from your head as Danielle continued to speak, unaware of the growing pit in your stomach.

"Alright, Y/N! Since you’re new here, we’ll just ask a few questions so you can get settled in. Then, we’ll go into some practice."

You nodded, forcing a smile, but your mind was still stuck on the girl. Why did she always look at you like that? Her feline eyes were now focused on something else—thankfully—but it didn’t erase the feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"How familiar are you with debates?" one of the members asked, pulling your attention back to the group.

"I’ve participated in a few competitions before," you answered, your voice a little shaky but honest. "But not anything on the scale of what you guys are preparing for."

"That’s great! We need all the help we can get right now." Danielle beamed, clearly relieved to have you there.

A few more questions were thrown your way—what topics you preferred, your strengths in public speaking, whether you had experience with research— blah blah blah, and you did your best to answer. Still, every now and then, your gaze would flicker to Haerin, who hadn’t said a word the entire time. She just sat there, fidgeting with her fingers but always watching. Judging. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Eventually, the questions died down, and the practice session began. Danielle explained the plan for the upcoming competition while passing out some papers. You tried to focus, but your nerves made it hard to absorb much.

As you shuffled through the notes handed to you, a piece of paper slid across the table toward you. Startled, you looked down.

It was from Haerin.

Your breath caught in your throat as you hesitantly unfolded it, expecting some kind of passive-aggressive note telling you to do better or not screw up.

But it wasn’t.

It was a neatly written list of points for the debate topic.

Confused, you glanced over at Haerin, but she didn’t meet your gaze. She simply stared straight ahead, her expression as cold and unreadable as ever. Was she helping you? Or was this just for the club’s benefit? You couldn’t tell.

You went along with it, following the points she’d given you. As the discussion went on, you occasionally heard whispers from Haerin’s direction, something like, “Mention that stat here,” or “Bring up the counter-argument now.” Her tone was low, controlled. Her instructions were precise, helpful, even. But it only deepened the confusion.

Why was someone who supposedly didn’t like you going out of her way to help?

Still, it all felt... impersonal. Like it wasn’t about you at all. Like it was just for the sake of the competition. There was no way this was personal. Not with how she looked at you every time your eyes accidentally met.

By the end of the session, your nerves had settled, though the weight of Haerin’s gaze hadn’t. You collected your things, ready to make a quick exit.

"Good job today," Danielle called out as you waved a polite goodbye to the rest of the group.

As you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but replay everything in your head—Haerin’s silence, the notes, the whispers. Maybe she didn’t hate you after all. Or maybe she was just doing her job as vice president, making sure everything ran smoothly for the sake of the competition. The two voices debated in your head as you absentmindedly walked toward the exit.

It wasn’t the first time you'd felt this way around her. The memory hit you like a wave, taking you back to that moment in math class last semester—the first time you really noticed Kang Haerin.

Back then, you were seated next to her, and you had felt it from the beginning: that stare. You’d glance over, only to find her already looking at you, her cat-like eyes unreadable. It was unnerving, like she was silently criticizing every move you made.

One particular moment stood out to you. You had been working on a problem in your notebook, struggling with a tricky equation. You glanced over, hoping for some clue that maybe she was having just as much trouble, but there she was, solving it effortlessly—her expression calm, focused, and... sharp.

When your eyes met, it felt like time froze. Her gaze was intense, like she could see right through you, picking apart your every flaw. It wasn’t a glare, not exactly, but it felt just as piercing.

The longer she looked, the more your anxiety built up So you broke eye contact, quickly returning to your own notes, feeling your hands clam up. You’d been so rattled by that stare that you ended up switching seats with a classmate the next day, just to get away from her.

Just then, Haerin brushed past you, heading in the opposite direction. You caught a glimpse of her bag and noticed a small frog keychain dangling from the zipper. It was an unexpected contrast to her sharp, no-nonsense demeanor, and for a moment, you found it oddly... cute. You couldn’t help but smile a little to yourself as she disappeared down the hallway.

Who are you Kang Haerin?

Taglist: @saysirhc

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 3 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Both Ana and you spend some time at your national camps. It helps you to finally realize a few things.

Part 1, Part 2

A/N: At this point I think I'm just committing to aim for an upload every Sunday. Maybe I'll manage to update sooner at some point, but usually I end up being way too busy during the week. And in case anyone is wondering, there will be three more parts after this.

I was really excited for this part, so I hope you guys will be to. And thank you to anyone who has shared their thoughts about this story, it always make my day. :)

Also, Ana at the Champions league final just broke my heart all over again!

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, and while you missed Ana’s presence next to you, you were also glad for the moment of reflection it allowed you. Last night had blurred the lines between the Swiss woman and you, a prospect that seemed much scarier in the bright light of day.  

Maybe it also felt more daunting at the moment because you were nervous about going to camp. Conditions had improved somewhat for the Spanish national team, but it still wasn’t a happy place to be. It was still an ongoing back and forth, constant fighting for every small thing to hopefully one day get to the point you all wanted to be.

So you didn’t feel prepared for a complex and emotional conversation with Ana right now. You just wanted a peaceful morning with your best friend, eating a nice breakfast, enjoying each other’s company, sharing one last hug before going to your respective national teams. After last night though, you weren’t sure if that was in the cards for you today.

Once you gathered enough courage to leave your bedroom, you were greeted by the smell of coffee and pancakes, your absolute favorite breakfast food. So at least the tasty breakfast part of your wish was being fulfilled.

Ana smiled at you gently and wished you a good morning when she saw you. You echoed her statement, readily excepting the cup of coffee she handed you. It made you happy how comfortable she felt in your apartment, almost as if she was your girlfriend making breakfast for you.

She wasn’t though! She was your amazing friend making breakfast for you, and that was nice too.

“Are you ready for national camp?” The Swiss woman asked while she plated the last of the pancakes and moved to sit at the table.

You took a sip of coffee to avoid having to answer straight away. This was a loaded question, with the potential of leading to a variety of difficult topics you didn’t have the strength to acknowledge right now.

“It’ll be nice to see everyone again,” you offered vaguely.

The blonde nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s one of the best parts of national camp. I’m very excited to see Lia again.”

Ana’s eyes were shining with happiness and you could tell how much she was looking forward to seeing her Swiss friend again. It made you irrationally jealous. You had no right to feel like this, Ana was allowed to have other friends, and of course she should be happy to see them.

“Who are you most looking forward to seeing?” Ana carried on, thankfully completely oblivious to the jealousy burning inside of you.

Her question left you in a bit of a dilemma. There were some players you were always especially excited to see, but most of them were friends of Ana as well and you didn’t want to risk her telling them. Not when you were pretty sure that they would never give you as the answer to such a question.

“All of them really.”

It was more of a non-answer really, but you felt like the time you could take for answering such a simple question had ran out and it was the safest option you could think of.

“I know that they’re all excited to see you too,” the Swiss woman assured you.

You hummed in fake agreement, quickly changing the subject to Ana’s travel itinerary. It was nice of her to lie on your behalf; the blonde had probably caught on that the question had me you flustered. She was empathetic like that. Still, you didn’t want to linger longer than necessary on this.

Sadly, the morning passed way too quickly for your liking and all too soon it was time to say goodbye to Ana for now. You felt like crying, which was ridiculous, it wasn’t even two weeks before you saw her again.

The two of you hugged goodbye and you were relieved that the Swiss woman allowed the hug to last for a while, seemingly also in no hurry to walk away. However, when you finally let go of each other, it was still too soon for you.  

Ana smiled at you with gentle eyes and a slightly melancholy smile. Apparently you weren’t doing a good job at hiding your unhappiness if it was so obvious to her.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” The Swiss woman said. “Call me or text me whenever!”

Ana waited for you to nod, then she turned around, waving as she walked away. You had to take some deep breaths to stop yourself from bursting into tears right there in your doorway. However, you didn’t have time for a crying session right now; you had to get a move on to get to the airport on time.

You were ready in the nick of time, finishing a final check when you heard a knock on the door. It was Misa who had offered to pick you up so you could drive to the airport together.

“Ready?” The goalkeeper asked after greeting you, but one look at your face made her change her course of questioning. “Why the long face?”

You shrugged your shoulders. You really didn’t want to get into that right now.

“Well you better put on a poker face before the others see you, or Jenni will tease you to no end about your crush on Ana,” Misa advised.

“What? I don’t have a crush on Ana!” You shot back. „She’s my friend.“

Misa smirked. „Yeah sure, whatever you want to believe.”

“It’s the truth though!”

Your teammate raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

You could tell that Misa didn’t believe you at all. But you didn’t feel like arguing any more, you most likely wouldn’t convince her either way. How could you when every reasoning you could possibly give her was a lie?

Heeding Misa’s advice you made sure to erase all sadness from your face before meeting up with the rest of your national teammates. Still, it only took a few minutes after the initial greetings were over for Jenni to approach you with a sly smile on her face. You had never wished for the ground to swallow you as much as you did in that moment.

The older woman threw an arm around you, pulling you close.

“So what’s going on with you and Anamari?” She whispered into your ear. However, she did so loudly enough for everyone in your vicinity to overhear and suddenly all of the attention zoomed in on you.

You freed yourself from Jenni’s holds, crossing your arms and challenging the black haired woman with a hard gaze.

“Nothing! We’re just good friends. Can we move on now?“

“Aw look at you being all firm. Does Ana like that?” Jenni teased.

You flushed bright red, very uncomfortable with this conversation.

“Leave her alone, Jenni!” Alexia commanded and you flashed her a thankful smile.

Jenni rolled her eyes, muttering something about how everyone always ruined her fun, but thankfully she listened to her ex-girlfriend. Though, you weren’t naïve enough to assume this wouldn’t come up again during camp.

It wasn’t until much later, when you were laying in your bed that you wondered how Jenni even knew about Ana and you. Not that there was anything going on, nothing mutual at least. But still, it seemed unlikely that she had come to that conclusion by herself all the way over there in Mexico.

Had Misa or Lola, who had both picked up on your crush a while ago, even though you had never confirmed their suspicions, talked to her about it? Or did she hear it from Ana herself? That would mean that the Swiss woman either had feelings for you as well or that she had realized you were in love with her at some point.

That second option made your anxiety spike through the roof. How embarrassing if Ana really knew! You desperately wanted to go and ask Jenni about her sources right this moment, but in the end you weren’t ready to endure the subsequent teasing.

Therefore you were forced to mull it over silently, trying to find some small scrap of evidence for any of the possible scenarios. It was a fruitless endeavor with the only result that you couldn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

---

All in all the time at national camp was pleasant enough. You enjoyed being around all of your teammates, even if you had to put up with more teasing about Ana, mostly from Jenni. It wasn’t too bad though and you got better and better at just ignoring her comments.

You also took great care to suppress the goofy smile that always threatened to bubble up when you got a text from Ana. So you were doing your part to minimize the teasing you had to endure.

But then on the night before your last game the Swiss woman called you for the first time since you had parted ways, and it was at the most inconvenient time. You were hanging out with Jenni and most of the Barcelona girls when your phone started buzzing.

Your heart did a somersault when you noticed who was calling. You had wanted to call her every day, every hour really, but had refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to bother Ana. But now she was calling you!

Unfortunately Jenni was sitting right next to you, instantly seeing Ana’s name flashing on your phone. You could practically feel the glee radiating from her. However, you didn’t pay her any attention, too busy getting up and leaving the room while answering the phone. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have with an audience.

“Hi Ana,” you said almost at the doorway.

What you heard on the other side of the phone made you foolishly stop in your tracks. The Swiss woman was sobbing into the line and you wished with everything in you that you could crawl through the line to comfort your friend properly.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” You asked; panic seeping into your tone.

You only realized your mistake when you heard gasps behind you and turned around. And sure enough you were met by concerned faces all around. You waved them off, not really certain what you were trying to communicate with that gesture.

To avoid any more unwanted eavesdropping, you quickly left the room, just barely hearing Irene calling after you to come tell them what was going on once you finished your call. You nodded even though you had already closed the door behind you, so there was no way they could see it.

You kept talking to Ana while rushing to the privacy of your room, telling her that everything was going to be okay, that you were here, that she should try and take some deep breaths, that you would be on the phone with her as long as she needed. You weren’t sure if the blonde even processed a word of what you were saying, but at least this way you were doing something.

You were already seated on your bed for quite a while, repeating the same things over and over again, when Ana’s sobs finally died down.

“Sorry,” was the first thing the Swiss woman said. You desperately wanted to shoot that stupid word to the moon.

“No, no, you have nothing to apologize for! I’m happy you called me. I wish I was near you, so I could give you a hug or something. Do you want me to call Lia and tell her to come give you a hug? I mean I don’t have her number, but I could probably go and ask Mario.”

On the other side of the phone Ana chuckled softly, a noise that sounded heavenly after listening to her miserable crying for so long.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t want Lia just yet. I’ll go see her afterwards, but right now I just want to talk with you a little longer if that’s okay.”

“Of course! That’s more than okay,” you quickly reassured Ana.

Did it mean something that she preferred talking with you over talking with Lia? The Arsenal player was one of her oldest and best friends, so surely Ana should prefer her comfort, unless…No, you couldn’t go there! Especially not right now, when you should be focusing on making the blonde feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You inquired gently.

There was a small pause, but then the words started tumbling from Ana’s mouth.

“Being here is just so frustrating! Ever since I dared to question some of Inka’s decision during the World Cup, respectfully and with sound reasons might I add, she acts as if everything I do is a direct attack on her. Today I brought Rio some water and for some reason Inka took that as me saying she’s overworking us and doesn’t care about our health? I feel like I can’t do anything without offending her.”

“And let’s be honest I don’t really care about hurting her feelings or whatever, she’s a big girl, but then she told me today she won’t play me tomorrow because I’ve been too disrespectful. And I haven’t even done anything! How insecure does a person have to be to act like this? I just wish we could get rid of her already!”

Ana’s voice was getting louder and louder, but suddenly she went all quiet again as if that last thing was too scary to utter it too loudly.

“I’m so scared at this point that I won’t get to play at the home Euros. And that’s my biggest dream. She can’t take that away from me.”

A fresh wave of tears began leaking from the Swiss woman’s eyes, but this time she was crying silently. The only giveaways were some sniffles and the sudden quietness.

You had been listening quietly while Ana spoke, going through your own emotional roller coaster. Knowing that the blonde was in so much turmoil, hearing it from a distance, was cracking your heart one word at a time, one tear at a time.

But you were also furious and if you would have been anywhere near that horrible coach you would have punched her right in the face. Not that violence was the answer, although maybe it was when someone was making Ana feel this miserable.

Then again Inka didn’t deserve any of your time or energy; both were much better spent by focusing on your friend.

“I’m sorry things are so bad right now and I wish there was more I could do, but I’m always here if you need to rant or talk and I can’t wait to see you again and be a real shoulder to cry on. I’ll give you the biggest hug the moment I see you,” you promised.

Ana let out a watery chuckle. “I can’t wait for that. I’m debating if I should just leave tonight,” she admitted.

“I get that, but don’t do that, it’ll only give Inka more ammunition. Try holding out a little longer, I have no doubt that her days are numbered and soon enough you guys will be rid of her. She’s ruining your national team and with such a big home tournament coming up, that’s the last thing your federation will want. And let’s be honest, you have to play at the Euros, you’re one of the biggest names Switzerland has, so it’ll be stupid to leave you out.”

Suddenly you were glad that you had spent a lot of time informing yourself about the Swiss national team, which of course included all of its recent problems. You had rationalized it to yourself by claiming you did so out of professional interest, but really you had wanted to know as much about Ana as you could. And now it was definitely paying off.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right and really it’s nothing compared to what you guys went through. I shouldn’t even be complaining-,” Ana apologized frantically.

“Don’t,” you stopped her, “Don’t do that. There’s no point in comparing bad situations and putting them in any sort of hierarchy. Things suck even if something might be objectively worse and it’s okay to feel bad about it. And it’s always okay for you to tell me about things that are bothering you.”

There was a short moment of silence and of course you instantly played back your words, trying to figure out what you could have done wrong. You probably had been coming on too strong, you should add that you always wanted to know what was going on with all of your friends in order to support them.

In fact, you were already opening your mouth to say exactly that, when Ana broke the silence, “Thank you so much. I’m so grateful to have you in my life. Really.”

Naturally, you noticed that the Swiss woman didn’t clarify that she was happy you were her friend and of course it stoked some foolish hope inside of you. Lately you had been trying to decide what was better, having false hope or having no hope. You hadn’t come to a conclusion yet, so you stayed in this weird state of in between, going from absolute hopelessness to overwhelming hopefulness.

After this you didn’t talk too much longer, Ana wanted to go and fill in Lia. This time you only felt a tiny hint of jealousy at the other Swiss woman, mostly you were relieved that someone close to Ana was going to give her a hug. Even if it would have been much better if it could have been you.

There was a knock on your door about ten minutes after you had hung up. You knew instantly who it was. The only surprise was that it had taken Jenni this long to come and find you. Preparing yourself for more teasing you opened the door.

However, you weren’t met by the usual grinning Jenni with mischief shimmering in her eyes, but by a serious woman wearing a concerned expression.

She waltzed right into your room once she noticed that you were off the phone, sitting down on your bed.

“Is Anamari okay?”

You tilted your head from one side to the other. „She isn’t great, but I think talking about it helped. She went to go be with Lia now.”

Jenni nodded. “That’s good. What was it about then?”

„Issues with the national team. I don’t really know how much I can say. Ana didn’t tell me not to talk about it, but I still don’t want to betray her confidence,” you declared.

Luckily Jenni accepted this easily. “You’re a good friend, chica. But are you sure you’re really just a friend?”

You sighed; of course the black haired woman had to bring this up again. Although, maybe this was your chance to get some more information about Jenni’s knowledge of Ana’s potential feelings.

“Do you know something? I mean did Ana tell you something?” You asked instead of answering the older woman’s questions, cringing at how obvious your eagerness was.

A small smirk crept back onto Jenni’s face. “Oh, no chica, just like you can’t tell me what Ana and you talked about, I can’t talk about what Ana and I spoke about.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t really see much of an option to argue her point. It was fair enough, it was just also very frustrating.

Instead of continuing to tease you, Jenni’s expression quickly sobered when you stayed silent. “Look it shouldn’t matter what I possible know or don’t know about Ana’s feelings. You own feelings aren’t dependent on what she feels.“

This was shockingly wise from someone who often acted like a teenage boy. Then again it shouldn’t really be surprising to you because you were pretty familiar with this much more mature and serious side of Jenni that only her friends and family got to see.

And obviously she was right. Your feelings were there whether or not Ana returned them. However, you would never deliberately reveal them to anyone until you where 1000% sure that the Swiss woman also felt something more than friendship for you.

 Jenni let you stew in silence for a while, but when it became clear that you wouldn’t say anything else, she got up with a sigh. She knew there was no point in trying any longer tonight; you needed time to figure things out by yourself.

“Call me when you decide you’re ready to face your feelings out in the open,” she instructed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

---

A couple days later it was time to go back home and you were eager to do so. Still, you took the time to say a proper goodbye to everyone, especially Jenni. It would be a while before you saw her again. And even though she often annoyed you, you also appreciated her friendship.

“Remember what I said, yeah?” She reminded you once you parted ways.

You nodded, convinced that it would never come to this. You couldn’t see a future where you would open up about your feelings any time soon.

Back in Madrid you were faced with the awkwardness of having to tell Misa that you weren’t driving home with her. The moment you had figured out that Ana would arrive after you, you had decided to wait at the airport for her.

Of course you didn’t say as much to the goalkeeper, but she put two and two together easily.

“I won’t tease you right now because you’ve endured enough of that these last ten days, but girl open your eyes!” Misa exclaimed, then she gave you a hug and disappeared.

Why did no one realize that you weren’t oblivious to your own feelings? You were well aware of them, the problem were Ana’s feelings or the lack thereof.

The time waiting wasn’t spend very productive. You were too anxious to potentially miss Ana, so you just sat around staring at the sliding doors she should exit from long before there was any chance of her actually coming out.

When you read on the arrival board that her plane had landed, you suddenly worried that the Swiss woman might find this weird. You had thought it was a nice gesture and it allowed you to give the promised hug at the earliest moment possible, but it might come across as too much.

You had almost talked yourself into enough insecurity that you were going to leave, when you spotted Ana. A huge smile spread on your face and before you even fully registered that it was actually her, your mouth was already moving.

“Ana!“ You shouted.

The Swiss woman looked around, confusion clearly written on her face. However when she was you, the confusion morphed into pure joy. She rushed over to you, tackling you into a hug. It felt so nice, completely right somehow, to have the blonde in your arms again.

„What are you doing here?”  Ana asked, making no move to break the hug. And you sure as hell weren’t going to do so anytime soon.

“I wanted to give you the hug I owed you as soon as possible,” you explained, glad that Ana couldn’t see the blush on your face.

The Swiss woman tightened her hold on you.

“I’m so glad you did.”

At some point you did have to let go of each other, but before you could fully break apart, the Swiss woman caught your hand, intertwining your fingers. She looked at you searchingly; keen to make sure you were okay with this. There was little you had been more okay with in your life.

 “Do you want to come over?” Ana asked hopefully when you got into her car.

“I’d love to,” you responded. “And before I assume incorrectly again, do you prefer to talk about the national camp situation or would you rather just hang out as a distraction?”

Ana smiled at this; she really appreciated your question. At least for the night she actually wanted to think about other things than the national camp, and she told you as much. Therefore the two of you spent a relaxing evening together, ordering food, watching some TV, before going to bed relatively early.

Throughout the entire evening you carefully watched Ana for any hints she might have feelings for you too. And there were some signs, the way she looked at you, how she laughed at your jokes, the way she initiated physical contact whenever possible.

If you would be watching this as a neutral spectator there would be little doubt in your mind, that all of these were subtle clues hinting at a crush. But because it concerned you, you couldn’t be so sure.

And the most confusing thing was the matter of why the Swiss woman wouldn’t just tell you if she had feelings for you. You had been so obvious that everyone else had caught on, so if the feelings were mutual surely Ana would have told you by now?

The next morning when it was time to say goodbye, you once again felt sad. Which was even more ridiculous this time around because you would see each other again the next day.

When you got back to your apartment, you picked up the phone and called Jenni before you could second guess yourself. If you began thinking about it, you would lose your ability to act.

“You were right, I like her,” you stated without even saying hello.

On the other side of the line you could hear a happy squeal, “Finally! You will be so cute together, I can already see myself getting sick when we’re all going to hang out. Maybe you could take a trip over here during winter break.”

It was reassuring that Jenni seemed so sure that this would work out between you and Ana, but you couldn’t get your own hopes up like this.

“Slow down, Jenni. Just because I like her doesn’t mean we will end up in a relationship. I’m still not sure about Ana’s feelings.“

„Oh my god, I’ve never met anyone as oblivious as you! I know for a fact that Ana has been hinting at it for ages, but now that you’ve come clean I can confirm that she also has feelings for you.”

Your heart was soaring at these words. Did they mean what you thought they meant?

“Wait, are you saying Ana told you she liked me too?” You double-checked.

Jenni chuckled. “Yeah, let me spell it out for you; my dear friend Ana Maria Crnogorčević has told me, Jennifer Hermoso Fuentes, that she likes you.”

At this point even you found it hard to hang on to any lingering doubt, but still you managed to do so because there was one last thing bothering you.

“Then why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because Anamari asked me not to. She wasn’t totally sure if you really had feelings for her too or if you were just confused, so she didn’t want you to be influenced by her feelings. And even though I told her that was stupidest thing I’ve ever heard and that she should just let me tell you because you never believe anything until you get hit by a blinking neon sign, ultimately it wasn’t my decision.”

You couldn’t even be mad at Jenni’s comment about you needing things to be completely obvious; it was definitely true. But you also thought that no one could fault you for having a hard time believing that someone as wonderful as Ana wanted to be with someone as mundane as you.

“But I was so obvious,” you brought up one thing you couldn’t fully understand yet. How had there been any doubt in Ana’s mind?

“Chica, you kept saying things like you love her as a friend or you’re always happy to be there for your friends. Of course she had some doubts,” Jenni pointed out.

“But…But I only said that because I was so obvious otherwise and I didn’t want her to suspect anything,” you defended yourself, realizing how that sounded while you were still speaking. Suddenly it made a lot more sense why Ana hadn’t revealed her feelings to you before.

“Okay, okay, I heard it, don’t say anything, Jenni,” you quickly added, before the older woman could tease you about it.

Then something dawned on you. “Oh god, how do I ask her out though?”

Jenni snorted. “Just ask her on a date. It’s not that hard, you know she’ll say yes now. Just don’t over think it, even if that’s hard for you.”

You nodded, already over thinking it. Should you call Ana now? Should you ask her when you saw each other tomorrow? Should you text her in case she had somehow changed her mind since she last spoke to Jenni?

“I can hear you over thinking it all the way over here in Mexico!” Jenni scolded you. “Just do it. I’d love to hold your hand through it, but it’s the middle of the night here, so I need my beauty sleep. Not that I really need it, I’m pretty enough as it is, but still.”

A pang of guilt hit you. You hadn’t thought about the time difference at all.

“I’m so sorry, I woke you up, Jenni,” you apologized.

“Don’t be, this was a good reason to be woken up for. Go get your girl now,” Jenni instructed.

Despite this you apologized once again and thanked the black haired woman profusely, foolishly saying that you owed her one. Going by Jenni’s reaction you would come to regret this at some point, but that was for future you to worry about

Right now you had other things to worry about, like how to ask Ana out. Even if you had gotten confirmation that the Swiss woman liked you too, it still felt like this had to be perfect, otherwise she might suddenly have a change of heart. 

[coupleoffanfics]

Part 2 of Batfam and batsis y/n headcons

Masterlist

It was a surprise to see y/n at the of the manor one night after her "outburst" that was a couple months ago. Alfred is happy to see her but notices her troubled expression. She greets him and asks if Bruce was here.

Entering the Batcave for the first time in years, it hasn't changed too much from what y/n remembers. The first to notice her walk in is Damian. "Sister, what are you doing here?" It's always so weird hearing him call her that now. He's never called he that until her "outburst".

This gets the attention of Tim and Babs, making them look away from the monitor. Tim is glad to see her again and hopefully, she is here to mend their broken, not completely burnt, bridges. Babs is also glad to see her as they haven't been communicating as much this past week, but concerned as to what brought her here. She has a feeling that y/n wouldn't come here without a reason.

"I need to talk to Bruce." Damian is almost upset that y/n didn't say she came to see him. He doesn't even have to open his mouth as Bruce is right behind her. Bruce makes his presence known which made y/n jolt up a bit.

Turns around to see him suited up just like the others. Not seeing his full face made her more comfortable oddly.

She takes a deep breath before talking, "I want to clarify that I'm talking to Batman and not Bruce Wayne. I have some information and I desperately need your help." Everyone's interest was already peaked before she said anything.

Bruce watches her pointer finger curl around her hair, her eyes shifted away from him, and her shoulders somehow become even more tense. "Jerome is looking for someone, not me, but I'm worried about them. Wait not looking for he's found them and I- ugh, I'm sure you've already done a background check on him. He has a twin brother and he supposedly wants him dead. I'm…"

All their eyes on her were worsening her anxiety. "I'm best friends with him, Jeremiah Valeska." Babs is already putting the pieces together that Xander Wilde was just an alias. She does remember thinking that they look similar, but she's only met y/n's boyfriend a handful of times and never looked that deep into Jerome's relatives. There wasn't any need to look at his family as long as they aren't committing illegal acts with him.

"Jerome, he did something to Jeremiah. There was this gas and it messed him up. He…" y/n was trying not to get too emotional from talking about a topic that was sensitive to her. "He's not right in the head anymore. It's almost like he's turning into Jerome. He's losing control, he knew a week ago that something is wrong but now he's saying…"

Their eyes and her various feelings on the matter were making her feel that this was a dead end. It's been nearly three months and things have been getting progressively worse. As she looks at Bruce and all she expects is to be rejected. To tell her that she was overreacting and that time was going to heal whatever this mess was.

y/n looked Bruce in the eyes and for the first desperately begged, "Please. Please help find a cure or something to end Jeremiah's madness. I…" She choked back the urge to say that she loved him. There wasn't a need for that and she'd rather keep them in the dark about her life. "…I don't want to lose my best friend. I know you're busy, but I had try asking. Just tell me now if you'd be able to help in any way possible and I'll leave you alone."

This came out of nowhere, but with y/n looking Bruce in the eye with glassy and a scared look in her eyes. How could he say no? "I'll do everything I can, but I'll need a blood sample."

Anything that he said after that went in and out of y/n's ears. She was just relieved that she had the greatest detective help her. "Yeah, um, I can do that." Her voice was softer than a few seconds ago. She wiped the tears of relief with her palm and quickly made her way out of the cave.

Tim wanted to go after her, but Damian was already following behind her and Babs gave him a discouraging look. Babs finally understood why y/n has been so quiet these past weeks. She also knew that y/n needed time to herself and she'd hope that Damian would understand that. She thinks Bruce knew that as well as he stared at the exit for a moment before swiftly going back to work.

Damian kept calling out to his sister before grabbing her wrist. y/n really wanted to shake off his hand and tell him to just leave her alone. Though feeling how firm his grip is she knew it would probably be best to go with whatever to not trigger another meltdown. That was the last thing she ever wanted to see or deal with.

Genuinely though she didn't know why he followed her. It didn't matter if he was trying to repave their relationship, she always expects the worst to come out of his mouth. As a shield, she says what he thinks he'll say. Putting herself down before he or anyone can do it.

"Yeah, I know I shouldn't be down there. It's no place for me and I get in the way. I'm not going to lie and say I'm fully sorry. I am, but I need to try everything to save him, and if that means you'll all have to bear witness to a living failure once more then so be it."

Damian is stuck by her words again and lets go of her as if her skin burns him. He was unsure of how to respond to that, but that wasn't the reason he was there. He tells her with full confidence, "Father will find a cure. Your friend will be okay."

She doesn't look at him. Surprised that he didn't degrade her and slightly smiling that he was comforting her. "Thank you, Damian, that was nice of you to say." Then walks out of the manor just like last time, but this night Damian can fall asleep without regretting eating him alive.

Bruce hires a team of toxicologists. Buys a whole new laboratory for the team. Making sure that there is progress being made while he's not working on it. Tim is the one who spends the most time searching for a cure.

The day after y/n would make her regular trip to the psychiatric hospital with Tim watching from a distance. Tim wasn't stalking y/n he'd claim fully knowing that's exactly what he's doing. He just felt that something was missing and he just wanted to know. He was sick of all her secretiveness. He's given y/n some space after her "outburst" unlike Damian and Dick. So he feels like he could do this because it's not like he forcing her to be around him like the other two.

But regardless the stalking. He was concerned about seeing y/n walk into a mental hospital. It wasn't Arkham, but personally knowing her track record of depressive episodes made him wonder why she was here. Was she admitting herself again?

y/n going through a mental low is difficult no matter how many times Tim sees and helps her through it. She'd stop having this bubbly aura around her. Not being able to get out of bed. There were few times she talked of how hopeless and empty she felt. When she had these episodes they'd never last a few days. They'd always be a week and the worse he's personally seen it last for 2 months. Then the mental image of her dealing with this on her own and coming to the point that she felt the need to admit herself was devastating to him in many ways.

Disguised as part of the staff, Tim followed y/n. Quickly realizing that she wasn't admitting herself, but visiting. He stood by the door of the patient's room that she dispersed in and closed the door. Interestingly Echo walked out of the room at one point and went back.

Seeing y/n standing by the door and about to leave, Tim quickly put some distance between himself and her. Watching y/n, Echo, and a man wearing a hat walk out. Following close behind as they left the hospital and entered the parking garage. He noticed how closely y/n and the man were walking together while Echo walked behind them.

Suddenly Echo came to a halt making the others stop and look at her. Then she ran full force toward Tim and pushed him against the concrete wall. A sharp knife pressed against his throat.

The handful of times Tim has seen Echo he's never seen her exhibit any emotion. There was a sort of underlying anger as she calmly ask who he was and why he following them. He's not able to get his mouth open because y/n runs up panicked while the man walks slowly.

y/n doesn't even need a second to see that it was Tim. Makes Echo let go of him before asking what he was even doing there. There is no good lie that he can come up with on the spot and he knew lying was just going to make y/n more upset than she already was.

"You never talk or are around anymore. You're so secretive now that it makes me worried." Tim would continue if he didn't notice y/n clench her jaw. He would have to be blind to not see y/n trying to keep her cool.

That's when the man placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. Just that simple action alone got rid of any tension in y/n. The man would introduce himself as Jeremiah.

Tim felt uncomfortable by Jeremiah. It could have been the fact that y/n did say his mental sanity has deteriorated, but Tim could just feel something was off with him. His bright green eyes remind Tim of someone. His face also looked to be caked with makeup and the way he talked was unnerving.

The three leave Tim behind. y/n stating that they'll talk about 'this' later. He goes back to the manor even more perplexed by everything.

Later that day y/n drops by the manor. Trying to be discreet as possible because she doesn't want to trigger Damian jumping out. Handing the blood sample to Bruce then turning her attention to Tim.

They have a long drawn-out conversation about what transpired earlier. Explaining why he felt the need to follow her and how he wants her to be open with him.

"— I want us to friends again." That made y/n's heart and mind stop for a moment. Just a moment because she immediately rebuttals. Not trying to mean when saying she doesn't want to be near any of them. That just things change, that they've changed, and they drifted apart. That he had nothing to worry about, but to also never do that again.

y/n spends most of her time with Jeremiah until she has classes and takes a minute to drop by the manor for any updates. Now that y/n is visiting the manor, Damian doesn't surprise her with visits anymore. Since she comes over quite often, daily almost.

He always tries to prolong her time there. He remembers the few things she's interested in. Art and fencing. He'll try almost bribe her to spend more time with him. Mentioning that he's going to an art museum or that he's done with his latest painting. It doesn't get her attention. Talks about how he's got tickets for a fencing match, but that doesn't interest y/n in the slightest.

It's like she's purposefully ignoring him. It's not the case, but that's beside the point. One day when y/n drops by and gets ready to leave, Damian walks up to her with one question. "Can you teach me how to fence?"

Taken aback the question y/n has to take a moment to register it. She sighs, "You're better off getting a professional trainer because I haven't held a saber or epee in a hot minute." She's not even trying to avoid Damian even though he just reminds her how much of a failure she is. She's just being honest.

The boy is becoming visibly frustrated. Panicking and remembering his last tantrum, y/n quickly says that she'll teach him the basics after her classes. Seeing that he was calming down y/n makes a quick escape.

After her last class, she sees Damian waiting right outside of her classroom. Once she's in his peripheral vision he tries to drag her back to the manor and into the newly established fencing room, but she needs to make a quick stop.

Will not let her go alone no matter what. So she kinda has no choice but to bring him along. It's nothing new. She makes a quick call informing someone that she'll have someone with her before jumping into her car. They take a long ride out of Gotham and into the woods. Making Damian wonder where the hell y/n is going.

The second one to meet Jeremiah is Damian. Jeremiah only politely greets him before leaving to talk with y/n in another room. The first impression Damian has of Jeremiah is not a good one. Highly suspicious of him and is not comfortable letting y/n be alone in a room with him. Low-key impressed by the labyrinth that Jeremiah calls his house and likes the interior of the living room. Every classy.

Would have put his ear against the door to hear what they were saying if it wasn't for Echo. She was staring him down. He's pretty sure she hasn't blinked since they got here. Going off what Tim said to the others about Echo possibly being y/n's lover, Damian wonders what y/n sees in Echo.

When they leave and get back into the car Damian brings up Echo. "Your girlfriend should learn how to blink." y/n almost stomped on the breaks. "Girlfriend...? Echo?" She's very confused. "Who else am I talking about." This is when she learns that the whole family thinks she's dating Echo. The idea is funny but also irked her because that was far from the truth. Calmly explains to Damian that isn't the case and that she was simply Jeremiah's bodyguard. Damian can't wait to tell Tim that he was wrong.

Once they get back to the manor y/n teaches Damian about fencing. First going over the rules and the 4 types of fencing before doing anything physical. Surprisingly time flew by. They probably would have been fencing all night if Alfred didn't interrupt them for dinner. y/n planned on leaving, but Damian convinced her to at least stay for dinner because Alfred made her favorite dish and dessert.

This is around the time y/n starts to think that Damian isn't too bad. Out of everyone in the family, Damian is probably the one she'd be the most lenient towards. She's lenient towards the whole family, but Damian is still relatively young. He was able to move on from his horrible childhood, even though that resulted in him lashing out, y/n can forgive that to an extent. Deep down she sees him as her little brother even after their rough patch.

The fact that he isn't breaking into her apartment and trying to connect with her, makes her think that it's safe to be around him. That she isn't going to be verbally reminded that she's one of the most worthless human beings to be alive.

She starts straying a little longer at the manor to mentor Damian a few times. He starts to worry when she easily has the wind knocked out of her and has a cough that doesn't go away. She tells him that it's nothing to worry about. Might lie to him if doesn't give up on the topic by saying she's developed asthma. The lie isn't implausible since anyone can develops asthma at any age and it is hereditary.

It calms Damian down a little. Now he constantly carries an inhaler just in case y/n needs it. She feels so bad lying to him, but she thinks it's for the best that everyone should stay in the dark about her medical condition.

Seeing y/n willingly hang out with Damian gets under Tim's skin. He's given her space unlike Damian, except for that one time but it was only one time. The little gremlin has been harassing her since that one "outburst". He'd want to pull out the 'I knew her longer' card, but he knows how petty it would be. Who she hangs out with isn't his problem and he should mind his own business.

He does mind his own business, but he may occasionally check the cameras to see what y/n and Damian are up to. That's all he swears. Oh, my god, they're going to orchestral concerts and museums together now!? This is so unfair Tim thinks to himself.

They use to be so close.

Honestly, Bruce is thankful for Damian. He's keeping y/n around the manor longer so she can be completely safe from the madness of Gotham. It's also good to know that she's willingly interacting with one of her brothers. It almost warms his heart to see her not be so anxious while in the manor. Just almost because she shouldn't have to feel anxious in the first place. This was the place she once called home, it should make her feel safe not anxious.

Remember the team of toxicologists?

If you don't that's fine. They were killed by the bomb placed in the laboratory, so it's not like they'd be brought up again.

Everyone thinks it's Jerome. The loss of innocent life and y/n suddenly going missing seems like a Jerome thing to do. When they hunt down Jerome, he just kinda shrugs his shoulders while doing a poor job at hiding his smile. Damian wants to scratch his face off or rip his face off depending on the state of it. Dick has to hold back the little monster while Bruce interrogates the ginger.

It goes nowhere until Jerome gets bored of interrogation and tells them, "I'm tired of him thinking that he's better than me. We're quite the same, but I'm the better one. I just had to give him a fresh air of courage to be his true self." Everyone understands what he's say and also groaning that they have to deal with another fucking Valeska.

BONUS

Jerome, Jeremiah, Joker, and Harley being a sort of dysfunctional family is a fun idea. (Inspired by this) Joker and Harley enable the twins' unhealthy love for y/n Wayne.

Harley is more "innocent" in her enabling because she sees nothing wrong with it. The staking, the murder, it's nothing when it's the name of love. (When she leaves Joker for Ivy, she might feel guilty for egging them on. That she played a part in instating y/n into a toxic relationship. Out of anyone, she'd be the one to understand what's it like to be in one. This might motivate her to help keep y/n safe in the future.) Out of the two Harley is rooting for Jerome. He just seems like the lesser evil for y/n.

Joker finds the whole thing funny and pathetic at the same time. The twins are destroying half of the city for a girl, it almost makes him want to roll his eyes. Almost because of the lengths they'll go to. How they're always butting heads and seeing how distraught the girl gets is fun. He can't help but laugh at it. He'll be putting his money on Jeremiah because he sees potential. He's not reckless like Jerome or impatient, Jeremiah is in it for the long haul.

[svnnyd4ys]

the seven + nico incorrect quotes lol

Piper: She's the girl of my dreams! Annabeth: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams. Piper: I have a lot of dreams.

!!!

Leo: *watching their house burn down* Leo: Leo: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

!!!

Jason, looking at a selfie of Leo’s: I hate this photo. Leo: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. Jason: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. Leo: Up to kindness.

!!!

Hazel: Nico, how do you feel about lifting heavy things? Nico: My doctor just said I should avoid— Hazel: Being a wuss? I agree.

!!!

*During a game of Hangman* Piper: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Leo: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Piper: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

!!!

Jason: Are you guys bringing anything to the party? Nico: Yeah, an empty stomach. Annabeth: My sparkling personality. Percy: A flagrant disregard for common decency. Hazel: ... Hazel: Chips.

!!!

Piper, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Jason: Other side, Piper...

!!!

Percy: You know, Leo, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Leo: ... Leo: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

!!!

Annabeth: What time is it? Piper: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Piper: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Nico: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Piper: It’s 2 in the morning.

!!!

Leo: You’re overthinking this. Hazel: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Leo. What if I’m underthinking?

!!!

Frank: I am an expert at identifying birds. Percy: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Frank: Yeah, they're all birds.

!!!

Percy: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Jason: Where did you get that? Percy: My pocket. Jason: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Percy: Skills.

!!!

Frank: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

!!!

Frank: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Jason: Is that… bad? Frank: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Jason: Isn’t that just causality? Frank: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Jason: So what are my odds? Frank: Do you have a family history? Jason: Of what? Frank: Just, in general. Jason: …Yes? Frank: Oh no.

!!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* Leo, Frank, and Jason: *spinning a little and talking* Nico, Annabeth, and Hazel: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

!!!

Percy: My dad drowned at sea when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. Percy: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

(pre discovering yk his half God-ness)

!!!

Annabeth: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

!!!

Nico: This is a safety pin. *cuts off end* Nico: It is now a danger pin.

!!!

Jason: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Jason: Me too!

!!!

Piper, explaining why they are not allowed to cook: I put the noodles in the pot and put the pot on the stove and turned the burner on high. Turns out you don't put noodles in marijuana and I almost burnt the whole house down.

!!!

Hazel: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Hazel: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

!!!

[echoric]

FIRST OFF I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR FICS!! Secondly I was wondering if I could request a little Drabble? Maybe a “Iceman is openly gay with slider, Hollywood and wolf man. But Maverick isn’t as comfortable with his sexuality and thinks he still has to act straight even though he’s got it BAD for ice”

first off thank you so much!!! :DD im glad you like my writing <3 & secondly of COURSE i can write that, i love a bit of closeted angst (i hope i got everything the way you wanted) this got a bit longer than i expected lol, it is crossposted to ao3 (HERE) if anyone prefers that format

standing face to face with "i told you so"

icemav angst (Word Count: 3,488)

Ice was staring again.

Maverick could feel those intense blue eyes burning into the side of his head as he intentionally stared forward, scanning the crowd at the bar as if he were actually looking for someone or something. He’d already gotten caught twice by the man when he had chanced a glance back to see if he was watching or not, and Maverick wasn’t sure his heart could take anymore eyecontact with the other pilot. Goose had kicked him in the shin in time for him to look away before an approaching lady caught him staring at Ice last time. But Goose had since drifted away to join the other pilots and RIOs in conversation, leaving Maverick alone at the bar and painfully aware of Ice’s attention. His pulse was racing, making his cheeks flush slightly as he thought about meeting his gaze again just to see.

“Right, Maverick?”

He almost jumped. He had forgotten completely about the lady at his arm – Sandra…or was it Sarah? He scrambled, but flashed her a smooth, well-practiced grin, and laughed, not knowing at all what she was asking him and hoping it was the right resposne. She seemed pleased with his laugh, giggling to herself as she leaned into his side to distance herself from the tall, frustrated-looking man who had followed her up to Maverick’s spot at the bar. Maverick gave the man a sharp, teeth-baring grin as he draped his arm over Sandra’s shoulders, leaning into her like a confident boyfriend.

“In fact, everyone keeps asking when we’re going to be engaged. This scoundrel just can’t commit, isn’t that right, Maverick?”

“You know what they say about us sailors. Brandy, you’re a fine girl,” Maverick crooned, half-singing with a wink. He placed a chaste kiss on her temple to keep up the act.

She laughed and put her arm around his waist, squeezing him as she looked up through her eyelashes, “What a good wife I would be?”

“But my life, my love, my lady–”

“Is the sea,” they finished in sync, laughing together. The man at her heels finally seemed to take a hint and walked off with an irritated huff, muttering under his breath.

Sandra stayed close up against his side for a while as she watched the man leave. She relaxed as Maverick leaned back against the bar, sighing and shaking her head. Her arm fell from around his waist and he took his arm back. She smiled at him, a sad look in her eyes and exhaustion in her voice as she spoke quietly enough that the music would’ve kept it a secret from anyone else, “Thank you for being a good man, Maverick.”

“Pete,” Maverick said with a smile, holding his hand out like it was a business deal. Her smile softened and she took his hand in a firm grip.

“Sandy,” she said as she shook his hand once, “but you can call me Brandy, sailor.”

Maverick grinned and tilted his head with a shrug, “It was improv.”

“It was good. Really,” she waid with a grin. She pulled a small compact mirror with an ornate carving of a flower on it from her bag and checked her reflection in it. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed again. “Some men can never seem to understand that some ladies just aren’t interested.”

Maverick raised an eyebrow, slightly caught off guard by the change in topic. He was about to respond when his eyes scanned over the crowd absently and caught another pair of eyes watching them. Ice still hadn’t looked away – or if he had, he was looking again. Maverick felt a thrill shoot up his spine as he locked gazes with the man, dangerous and electric, but it was overpowered by the familiar urge to smother it and push it back down deep where no one might see it. Not even him. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Ice, looking back to Sandy.

“Mhm. Can I buy you a drink, Brandy?” Maverick asked waving to the bar behind him and pointedly ignoring the stares he was getting from Ice and the other pilots and RIOs. “Just between friends. I understand when a lady only wants to use me for her protection.”

Sandy laughed and snapped her compact mirror shut. She turned to lean against the bar with her forearms crossed. Maverick caught a flash of a white handkerchief in the left pocket of her jeans as she hummed, scanning over the bar’s options. Sandy eventually smiled and waved the bartender over, “I’ll have a whiskey, neat. Put it on the sailor’s tab.”

“Mitchell,” Maverick said in response to the glance from the bartender. He nodded and turned to make her drink as Sandy turned to face Maverick more. “So, Brandy, what brings you here if not to flirt with all the sailors? Everyone knows that’s the main crowd at this dive.”

“My taste is less…salty, more sweet,” Sandy said with a wink. She nodded to the bartender with a smile as he handed her the drink she requested. “If you know what I mean?”

Maverick had no idea what she meant. He nodded anyway, pretending to understand with a quiet hum. He waved to the bartender and he slid Maverick another glass of the tequila that he’d been sipping on all night. He couldn’t resist glancing tot he side out of the corner of his eye as he waited for the drink to be poured, seeing if the attention from the table across the bar was still on him – it was. Sandy lifted her cup when he picked his up, they clinked them together before tossing them back in sync.

“Put it on my tab this time. Tequila,” Sandy called out to the bartender. She ran a hand through her hair again before sliding a shot to Maverick with a grin. “You up for a challenge, sailor?”

“I can drink in circles around you, Brandy,” he said confidently. His mind was already drifting back to Ice even as they clinked their glasses on the bar before tossing them back in sync. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the sharp, nervous edge around the other pilot, but the awareness of that was always muted, vague. He blamed the tequila for how loud it seemed now. Maverick smiled easily at Sandy, feeling easy and in his element even if he could pick up that it was strictly platonic competitive energy between them. He was good with women. He’d dated countless women he genuinely liked; he could talk with them easily, laugh with them, play the part of a flirt without breaking a sweat – it was easy. Comfortable. Ice broke away any part of that comfort with his harsh words and challenging stares. He wasn’t simple or easy to get along with, and it was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“You’re not as oblivious as other men, are you?” Sandy asked before their next shot arrived. Her eyes were studying his face intensely, softened by alcohol and maybe a bit of camaraderie that Maverick wasn’t sure why she’d feel with him. Her eyes flitted briefly over to wher eIce was sitting, one eyebrow lifted just slightly out of his neutral resting face as he watched them – watched Maverick. “I mean, you’re clearly aware of your surroundings.”

Maverick shrugged and gave Sandy the grin that had saved him countless times in the past. “Iceman? Yeah, he’s competitive and a good pilot. We’re just…you know, rivals.”

“Oh, is that what they call it now?” she asked, her voice low and teasing as she grabbed two more shots for them from the bartender. For a split second, he felt his heart lurch into his throat and his face felt hot, a definitely blush creeping over his face that he couldn’t blame on the alcohol – an embarrassing reaction to what was likely just a harmless question. 

Sandy gave him a sympathetic smile and pushed the shot into his hand, tossing hers back. “Relax, sailor. Just a friendly observation.” She didn’t look away from him though, and her expression softened a little as he took his shot and forced his eyes away from Ice for what felt like the umpteenth time. There was understanding in her eyes, sad and compassionate. “Listen, Pete, I know we don’t…know each other at all. But if you ever need to, you know…talk through it, or whatever, I get it.”

“Get what?” he asked – too quickly. She gave him a look that let him know that she could see straight through him. A slow grin worked across her face as she ordered another round.

“Oh, nothing,” she said lightly, “just some people like their whiskey neat, others like it with a twist.”

Maverick forced himself to laugh at Sandy’s comment, but her words lingered, stirring something he didn’t quite want to confront. He swirled the tequila in his glass, downing it quickly – he was drinking too fast, too much, he should cut himself off, but he lifted his hand to order another round from the bartender. Sandy simply watched him with a calm, knowing smile. After a moment, she leaned in with a conspiratorial grin.

“You know, Pete, I think I’ve had enough of sailors for tonight. I’ve spotted someone who might be more might type, think she’d be interested?” She nodded subtly toward a tall brunette with a sharp undercut and a black leather jacket, looking just a bit out of place in the sea of Naval whites. Maverick raised an eyebrow, watching Sandy adjsut her hair and straighten her jacket. She looked at him and gave him a playful wink and sly grin. “Wish me luck, sailor?”

He grinned back, feeling a strange sense of relief as everything clicked into place. He lifted his new glass to her, “Good luck, Brandy. I doubt you’ll need it.”

Sandy winked again and, with a confident sway to her hips, headed off across the bar with an impressively steady gate for taking so many shots with him so quickly. Maverick once again was alone with his own thoughts at the bar. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt the full force of Ice’s stare on him again. He tossed back the drink and slid his card to the bartender to close his tab. He’d probably regret his game with Brandy in the morning, but he didn’t care in the moment as he gathered himself and headed over to the table where the other pilots and RIOs were laughing and talking.

“Hey, Mitchell!” Slider called, smirking as he looked to where Sandy was now talking  to her new interest. “What happened to your date? You let a catch like that slip away?”

“Oh, come off it, Slider, she was just looking for help to get away from that creep,” Maverick said, shrugging it off. “She wasn’t my type anyway.”

Slider gave him an exaggerated look of utter disbelieve. “Not your type? That was probably the hottest lady in here, man. You’re slipping.”

“Maybe my standards re higher than yours,” he shot back, crossing his arms defensively and rolling his eyes.

“Please,” Hollywood chimed in with a grin and chuckle. He leaned back with his drink and pointed at Maverick. “Just face it, Mav, you just got friend-zoned by one of the hottest girls in this dive. Maybe she could tell you were already in love.”

“Or maybe I don’t chase after anything with a pulse unlike some people,” he snapped, his tone a little sharper than he had intended – the tequila. He glanced away as everyone went silent, feeling uncomfortable and awkward from the tension he’d accidentally caused. It was broken after a few moments by a low chuckle from Ice, which made Maverick glance over at him.

“That’s bold, Maverick. Those ‘some people’ might be at this table, you know,” Ice said, making intense, pointed eye contact that made Maverick’s cheeks burn before sipping his drink casually – vodka and lime. The usual. Always so predictable, going by the rule book even when they were supposed to be relaxing with friends.

“I’m just saying, I’m not into the…what, all the new-age ‘free love’ shit going around lately. Some of us still have standards,” he muttered – the words tasted bitter even as he said them. It was a cheap shot, a low blow, and not even something he believed, but he felt cornered and couldn’t think of an escape besides digging his way out. The air around the table grew still, and Maverick had the feeling his escape had actually been his grave he was digging deeper.

“You’re out of line, Mitchell,” Hollywood said evenly, his usually easygoing tone long gone. “It’s one thing to tease, but you don’t have to be homophobic about it.”

“Mav, I think we should get going. You’ve probably had too much,” Goose said slowly. He’d been laughing a moment ago, Maverick felt guilty over being the reason why his RIO looked so uncomfortable. “C’mon, man–”

“You know, Mitchell,” Ice said, cutting Goose off with a calm and measured tone. His depression was impossible to read, ice-cool as always but his eyes were sharp, as if he were silently daring Maverick to say something else. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have such a problem with someone like me. There are so many better things for you to hate me over.”

Maverick’s stomach dropped. He could feel his pulse pounding as he stared at Ice. His mouth felt dry, and suddenly, any bravado and defensiveness he might’ve still had disappeared. He glanced around, trying to gauged if the others known all along, trying to read their expressions – but the tequila was making his thoughts feel muddled. Hollywood seemed to take pity on him and sighed, “If you didn’t know, now you do. Ice here is about as interested in women as that lady was in you.”

“I didn’t— I mean, I don’t care if he’s— If you…I—whatever, do whatever you want,” he muttered in a voice that sounded defensive even to himself. He tried to laugh it off but it sounded hollow even to himself. Goose stood up and grabbed Maverick’s arm in a light grip.

“Let’s go take a breather, man. You’re good, just…let’s go take a break,” Goose said quietly, tugging on his arm gently. Ice’s eyes held Maverick rooted in place, steady, waiting. There was something like pity in his gaze, but there was something else too – a challenge. Maverick couldn’t look at him directly, so he looked away like a coward, mumbling something under his breath that he didn’t understand. Ice nodded to himself and stood up.

“You’re good, Goose, I’ll get him home. I was about to get going anyway,” Ice said, brushing Goose’s hand off Maverick’s arm and replacing it with his own.

“You sure?”

“Don’t play pansy with me, I’m the only one here,” Ice said, making the table erupt into laughter – the tension finally breaking.

Maverick felt like he was on fire, heat consuming him and originating from the spot where Ice’s fingers were holding his arm in a firm grip. He didn’t fight it as Ice tugged him gently to guide him through the bar. Maverick glanced around and saw Sandy with the other woman; she gave him a knowing once over before looking at Ice’s hand on his arm and back to his eyes. There was a glint of pride in her eyes as she lifted her glass to him, and then he was outside.

Outside and alone with Ice.

“Mind if I have a smoke while we walk?” Ice asked casually, as if nothing had been said inside. 

Maverick shrugged. Ice took that as permission and somehow fished a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, lit it, and took a puff without ever letting go of Maverick’s arm. He blew the smoke out away from Maverick, which he appreciated – the smell of smoke was making his stomach suddenly realize how much tequila it had consumed in such a short amount of time. He was stumbling and swaying as they walked despite his best efforts, making his leg brush against Ice’s with every other step. Maverick felt like if Ice made eye contact or they touched one more time, his head might explode from the amount of blood making his face burn.

“‘m sorry,” Maverick said when he knew they were alone.

Ice glanced over, taking another slow inhale through his cigarette without saying a word. Maverick almost wondered if he’d even spoken out loud, or if his words had been too slurred for the other pilot to understand. Ice’s hand tensed around his arm and he pulled Maverick to the side, nodding politely to the man he’d almost walked straight into without even realizing. Maverick stumbled from the sudden change in direction, unable to stop his legs as he staggered into Ice’s side. The other pilot reacted faster than Maverick’s drunk brain could track, holding the cigarette in his mouth and catching Maverick with both hands, steadying him until he got his feet back under him.

“You’re a real piece of work, Mitchell,” Ice muttered, waiting for Maverick to start walking before he grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth again and exhaled the smoke. “Dangerous in the air, and dangerous on the ground. Never would’ve pinned you for one of those.”

“Of what?” Maverick asked, wincing at the look that question earned him.

“A homophobe.”

Maverick felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. He didn’t know what to say in response to Ice’s words. He’d said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, as if Ice was completely confident in Maverick being hateful and that he had almost accepted it as a fact just as easily as the sky is blue and Ice is the best pilot in the Navy. Maverick didn’t know how to convince him otherwise, he didn’t know what words could help him. 

So he didn’t say anything.

The rest of the walk was in silence. Ice eventually flicked the stub of his cigarette into a random ashtray. They stayed shoulder to shoulder, and the grip Ice had on his arm was the only thing keeping Maverick from falling into the street in front of oncoming traffic. Maverick didn’t really remember most of the walk, but Ice somehow got them both onto the base and into the barracks. He came back into his body sitting on his bed, swaying in place as Ice helped him pull his uniform off. Maverick blinked up at him when Ice stepped back. The silence felt heavy. Maverick needed to break it, or risk breaking the unsteady beginning of a friendship that he’d only recently felt starting between them.

“Ice–” Maverick staggered when he stood up too fast, feeling very underdressed in his boxers compared to Ice’s pristine and perfectly tailored Naval whites, but uncaring as he caught himself with his hands on Ice’s shoulders. Ice caught him again, hands gentle and firm on his upper arms as he helped Maverick find his balance. “Iceman, Ice, I–”

“Don’t say anything, Mitchell. You won’t remember it in the morning, and I need you to remember this conversation,” Ice said; his voice sounded sad. His eyes were sad. Maverick had made the steady, ice-cold Iceman sad.

“Ice,” Maverick repeated, shifting his hands to hold his shoulders more firmly. He licked his lips to moisten them and saw Ice’s eyes dart down to them before the man looked back in his eyes. “Ice.”

Maverick threw all caution to the wind, leaning in and standing up on his toes. A hand pressed over his face before his lips could reach their target. Ice’s expression was tense, eyes still sad but filled with understanding that made Maverick feel like his soul was laid bare between them for Ice to inspect. He shook his head slowly and pushed Maverick back gently, taking his hand away from his face as he helped him sit back down on the bed. Maverick stared at him with confusion and hurt probably written clear as day in his expression, and Ice gave him a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He cupped Maverick’s face and brushed his fingers through his hair before pulling all of his touch away all at once.

“You won’t remember this in the morning, Mitchell,” Ice said softly, he tilted his head as he studied Maverick. “Go to sleep. If you remember anything, I’ll be at breakfast.”

Ice’s words felt like an order that Maverick couldn’t ignore as his eyes grew too heavy to protest. A gentle hand helped ensure he was lying on his bed as he tipped over bonelessly. He heard footsteps and shuffling nearby, but the world faded too fast. The last thing he thought he felt was a hand brushing through his hair as the sheet was pulled over his chest.

[reidsrambles]

Something More and Second Chances

Chapter 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader // Second chance

Description: You're stunned when your former friends with benefits shows up at your new job—and nearly a decade after you ghosted him. It turns out, he works in the same building, and he definitely hasn't forgotten about you. Will your apologies be enough? What happens if he does forgive you? Does time truly heal all wounds? (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, friends with benefits, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, condomless sex, IUD birth control, mention of abortion (in the context of being on the same page prior to sex), riding, soft dom M, praise kink F.

This fic is quite emotionally heavy, and both Spencer and Reader delve deep into past traumas. None is current. If any of these topics may be triggering or upsetting to you, please skip this one: child abuse, child abandonment, attachment issues, foster care, adoption, CPS, bullying, trust issues, mental health issues, misunderstandings, ghosting, and Reader mentions that she possibly committed emotional infidelity in the past, thinking about Spencer while with another partner.

Names used: Baby, good girl

Words (this chapter): 4,638

Words (total): 12,462

Spencer… a fed? Law enforcement is the last career you would’ve expected Spencer Reid to end up in. Researcher? Yes. Professor? Yes. He mentioned nothing about the FBI. He never seemed to have an interest in policing. Without the gun at his hip, you would have mistaken him for IT coming to fix that one printer that’s been broken all week. Is he even allowed to shoot that thing? Well, he wouldn’t be in this building with that badge otherwise.

Walking into the quaint coffee shop in the late evening—one of the few non-chain shops in your neighborhood that stays open late—you’re glad that you picked the location. It’s familiar. It’s safe. 

You greet the lone barista as you walk to the table Spencer has secured in the far corner. Steven always works the night shift.

“Hey,” you whisper as you walk up to the table. Any louder would be inappropriate given how silent the cafe is. The only other customers are a group of college kids on their laptops up front.

“I got you a black tea. I hope that’s alright,” he says, gesturing to it. “You used to drink black tea like it was water, so I figured it was a safe bet.” 

“A safe bet, indeed.” 

As you take your seat across from him, you mindlessly dip the tip of your pinky into your tea to check the temperature, finding it to be near perfect. The small bead of tea spreads between your lips as you place the finger against them, sucking it away. Spencer looks at you, biting his cheek to suppress a smirk.

You roll your eyes at him with playful exasperation. “Sorry, I know you always hated when I did that! I know you have your whole germ thing.”He laughs, throwing his hands up to proclaim his innocence. “It’s just funny, all the little habits that haven’t changed over the years. You used to do that with every tea I’d buy you.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to check the temperature!?”

Laughing, he says, “By feeling how much heat is radiating off it, like a normal person? And, I’ll have you know, my ‘whole germ thing’ has gotten a lot better since college!”

With only a few sentences between you, you’ve already fallen into comfortable back-and-forth, again. 

“But a recent study did find that there are an average of over a hundred and fifty bacterial species on the palm of the hand. The underside of the fingernail would presumably harbor even more bacteria.”

“On the plus side, I don’t get sick very often.”

He laughs his adorable, infectious giggle, and for a moment, all is right in the world. For a moment, all you can think about is being under the covers with a 21-year-old Spencer, cuddling and laughing about whatever movie you’re not paying any mind to. He was always more interesting. His mind and body; both, a frequent fascination of yours.

Spencer clears his throat. “So, do you live around here? Is that why you picked this place?”

“Yeah. I moved here after I finished my English Lit degree. I got my MLIS at Strayer. Having my rent grandfathered in is the only reason I can afford to live in Arlington.” You take a sip of your tea, realizing that you’ve already been neglecting it. The temperature is utterly perfect now. A blink lasts a beat too long as you savor the taste and the warmth of it. 

“Do you live in Quantico?” you ask. “I hope the drive wasn’t too bad. I probably should have asked instead of just picking a place. I wasn’t even thinking.”

“I live in the East End of D.C., actually,” he winces. “The long commute isn’t ideal, but it was only a 14 minute drive here, at least.”

“Oh, good. That’s not too bad.”

You should say more. You should start apologizing. Just say anything of any substance. But staring down at your tea, you just want to take a long sip to avoid having to say anything for even a few seconds longer.

Spencer shifts in his seat. Your lips feel so dry. Would it make it even more awkward if you ruffled around in your purse for your lip chap? 

You throw your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to gather the strength to have this conversation, as if you haven’t had it a million times already in your head over the years. 

“Sorry,” you breathe “I know what I need to say, but I’m just procrastinating.”

“Do you want me to…?”

Spencer’s always been rather direct. You aren’t even sure what he could be alluding to, but you don’t give it more than a second’s thought before you start.

“Where to begin?” you ask yourself aloud, trying to maintain your poise. “Let’s start with my mom, I guess. Remember when you met my mom, because she came into town for the weekend as a surprise?”

He nods. “She showed up that one evening while we were eating dinner.”

By that point, a few months after meeting him, the lines of your relationship with Spencer were already pretty blurred, and he was staying the night more regularly. It was just more convenient that way, you’d told yourself. You didn’t want to kick him out in the middle of the night after fucking him, and it wasn’t like you absolutely hated having him around, or anything.

“So, you met one of my moms. I have two.” You rapid-fire, wanting to get as much as possible out at once. “They’re married. Neither of them is a biological parent, though. I don’t remember either of my biological parents. I was adopted when I was 7, but I was in foster care for 3 years before that. Apparently, CPS workers didn’t find me in the best environment when they came to pick me up.”

The building you survived in for the first years of your life wasn’t a home; Calling it a house would’ve been a stretch too. The situation was downright neglectful. It was abusive. You were only a child, dirtied by the filth of your environment. Marks in shades of red and yellow and purple dotted your body. 

Every sentence is difficult to get out, but you’ve worked to unbury the details of your early life for years. It's not like you'll ever completely heal from that, but you’re more at peace with your origin story than you’ve ever been. Still, every time you’ve shared the stories of your childhood, you’ve had to fight the icky feelings that arise.

You swallow hard, looking down at your hands as you mindlessly pick at the skin around your nails. “Okay, it was really bad. My biological parents were really, really abusive, and my foster mom said it amazed her that I survived it.”

In your peripheral vision, you can see that he’s resting his chin against clasped hands, subtly nodding as he processes the bomb you just dropped. You’ll look anywhere except directly at him. You’ve gotten a lot better at opening up, but you feel like crawling out of your own skin when someone gives you a pitying look. 

“Do you know what my job is at the FBI?” Spencer asks.

“No, but I know you carry a gun, so that limits the possibilities.”

“I’m a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

Now it’s your turn to nod and listen.

“I’ve combed through every memory that I have from those eight months more times than I probably should have. Y/N, I know that I don’t need to tell you what childhood attachment trauma is.” 

Spencer leans back slightly in his chair, his mug clutched between his hands. Though nobody is in the vicinity, he speaks in a hushed voice as he continues. 

“We had a case in recent years where a young girl was murdering the parents of her school bullies.” He tips his head to the side, his raised eyebrows emphasizing his words. “And she had a number of bullies.”

Spencer’s soft, warm tone contrasts his story.

“The local PD probably should have made the connections sooner, but it was a small town. Everyone went to the same elementary, middle, and high schools, so all the victims having kids at the same school wasn’t a factor they even considered until we brought it up. It was one of the first things I noticed when I read the case file.”

“Spencer, are you judging their detective work?”

Your face quickly falls flat. Why the hell would you crack a joke when he’s detailing such a horrific case? Shit.

“It’s hard not to when the patterns they miss are so clear and lives are lost due to their incompetence.”

You can’t even begin to imagine what Spencer sees and deals with at work. You notice—whether because of that realization or to the cafe’s dim lighting, you aren’t sure—that Spencer’s skin is rougher than it used to be. Small, barely noticeable scars mark his body. His boyish glow has faded, replaced by an air of perpetual exhaustion. 

“Anyway,” he says, “as we profiled and uncovered more about this girl’s life, I kept being reminded of little things you did or said that I never paid any mind to.” He brings the mug to his lips, drawing back a sip. He licks the moisture from his lips. “Her parents were fully cooperative. When we brought them in, they described how horrifically abusive her childhood was before her adoption. Her birth parents were in jail for the neglect.”

You push down the memory of the time your biological mother tried to call you from federal prison. How she got that call approved, you’ll never know, but you can only imagine that she paid someone off or slept with them. 

“Her mom said she’d always had trust issues,” Spencer continues. “She used to hide anything that was meaningful to her, even from her own parents. She would wake up in the middle of the night in a panic at least a few times a week. When she’d make a friend at school, she’d sabotage the relationship. As soon as she’d start succeeding academically, her grades would worsen.” 

He could keep listing things, but when his eyes meet yours, the deer-in-headlights look you must have going on makes your recognition clear to him.

“So during that case, you realized that away from you because of my attachment trauma?”

“Well, I didn’t know for sure, obviously, but it became the top contender of my theories.”

A pang of guilt rings through your chest that Spencer has wasted any thought for you since you left, let alone to the extent of multiple theories as to your disappearance. It’s hypocritical to feel guilty, though, when you’ve regularly wondered how he is, stopping short of looking him up or reaching out. You knew he’d be accomplishing exceptional things, but digging into his life would have just made the guilt even worse. It took years before you didn’t feel nauseous anytime he entered your thoughts. 

“Well, now you know, I guess.”

The sense of feeling wholly too well-read is bringing your inner younger, vulnerable self out, causing a prickling heat to bite behind your eyes. You take a moment to practice your calming strategies, mentally repeating your affirmations of safety, and taking deep belly breaths to calm yourself. The pressure in your chest subsides. The warmth drains from your face.

Again, Spencer waits, altogether unphased. You aren’t sure how many seconds pass, but you know from experience that your tone and body language would have clearly read as guarded and closed-off to the layperson, let alone a profiler.

“Sorry about that.”

Sternly, but absent of anger, he says, “There’s nothing to apologize for, and you know that.”

You do.

“I almost forgot that you were never one for forced pleasantries,” you joke.

He simply lifts the corner of his mouth in a half-smile, re-searing the memory of tracing that one dimple into your brain.

“Can you tell me what you felt when you began to shut down?” he asks. “Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”

Without missing a beat, you say, “I felt like I needed to crawl into a shell; like my chest was hardening into a plate of steel to protect myself.” 

You didn’t need to reflect on what you felt, because you’ve felt it so many times and used those exact descriptors with numerous doctors and therapists.

“But I’m sure you already know that,” you say.

Spencer sets his mug down on the table again, not letting go of it as he adjusts to sit forward, forearms against the table.

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me,” he says softly. 

“I mean, I kind of owe it to you after what I did.”

He looks up at you from the table, a twinge of concern painting his face. “First, you never owe anyone that information. Secondly, you do know that how things ended between us isn’t entirely on you, right?”

When you just sit there, growing more confused as to what he could be referring to, he continues. 

“You had a lot going on in your head at that time—that, I was well aware of—and instead of just asking you about it, I clung onto you like a leech. Are you forgetting how many times in a day I’d call you? How many emails I sent you? How often I bugged you to come over?”

Honestly, you had forgotten, until now; until he spelled out those exact memories again. For so long, you didn’t want to think about that time in your life at all. Every memory of Spencer was thrown into a box and locked away in some corner of your head. 

“Y/N, neither of us knew how to effectively communicate our feelings. We were friends first, and then we started hooking up. When you proposed a,” he air quotes with his fingers “‘friends with benefits arrangement’, I agreed, knowing that I was going to fall for you. I knew I wouldn’t be able to shut my feelings off, so I chose to shove them down instead because I didn’t want to lose you being a part of my life.”

“And then I left…” you nod.

He lowers his head. “I just assumed that I had pushed you away.”

“Spencer, I’m so sorry that I made you feel that.”

“I’ve come to realize over the years that there are many reasons, most of them having nothing to do with you, that I jumped to that conclusion. I’ve always been made to feel like an annoyance or an inconvenience. Teachers, peers, coworkers. You were the first person in my life, besides my mom, who asked me to talk more. To share more. You listened to me, Y/N.” His eyes soften and the corner of his mouth upturns into a forlorn smile. “I’m sure that my dad leaving so early in my life didn’t help my clinginess and sensitivity to rejection, either.” 

He blows out a long sigh, as if deflating his lungs will soothe the emotional wound he just jabbed.

He’s so much more confident and mature now. It’s oddly comforting to know that he’s still fighting his own insecurities and self-doubt. 

“Spencer, I was never annoyed by you. Not once. In my mind, everything that went wrong between us was because I realized that I was in love with you, too. I self-sabotaged because I didn’t know how to have a secure relationship with anyone, not even my own moms. 

“When I was a teenager, I was downright verbally abusive towards them. I was a horrible child, angry at everything and everyone. My parents never wavered, though. They truly loved me unconditionally and always told me so. And I still treated them like shit because I was terrified that if I let myself feel entirely safe with them, they’d leave me. If my own flesh and blood couldn’t love me, how could they?”

This is the most you’ve opened up to anyone, let alone all at once. 

“I truly apologized to them for the first time at 24 years old, and that was only after I got myself into therapy. The therapy I had as a kid didn’t do much. I was too volatile; downright hostile sometimes. I’m amazed my parents never institutionalized me,” you quip. 

Spencer doesn’t laugh or smile or at all react to your half-assed self-deprecation. 

He removes his hands from his mug and slides them ever-so-slightly forward on the small table. Subtle enough that an onlooker wouldn’t notice, but you do. 

You want to touch him again. That much, you know for sure. With your tea gone, your hands feel frigid, and, though it’s probably in your head, you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

Before you can think yourself into a spiral, you push the fear of rejection down and embrace the trust in him that you’ve found tonight. Sliding forward a few inches, Spencer’s waiting hands take yours. 

Your eyes flutter a moment—from the soothing heat of his hands wrapped around yours or the shock of the contact, you aren’t sure.

He doesn’t comment on the temperature of your hands. He just softly rubs them, the gesture causing your brain to go blank. It feels so right.

“What’s going through your head?” he asks.

Your hands tense with a jerk at his question, and he loosens his grasp, allowing you to pull them back if you need to.

Looking into his eyes, you still don’t sense any judgement or hesitation. No apprehension or alarm at your jumpiness. 

As you relax again, Spencer resumes the soothing rubs.

“Did you know that this is the most I’ve opened up to anyone in a long time?” Your chin dips with a wistful smile, and Spencer lightly squeezes your hands in response.

You continue with another question that doesn’t require a response. “Did you also know that you were my only friend in college?” 

Spencer smiles softly and laughs. “Ditto.”

“I actually have a really good group of friends now, and it’s something I’m really proud of. It took a lot of self-reflection and a lot of inner work to allow myself to be honest with them. I got really lucky, and I found some incredible people who supported me, knowing how difficult it is for me to share. They embraced me with open arms whenever I opened up, a little at a time.”

Your voice, a mixture of hope and sadness, thickens as you speak. “I’ve thought a lot about what my life could have looked like if I had been able to trust you; if I could have let you in and not shut you out.”

Spencer responds, “I studied psychology, and it wasn’t until working with the BAU that I actually started to really understand people’s behavior. Even still, being personally involved in a situation blinds us to the things that are easily observed in hindsight. You couldn’t have fully trusted me back then, regardless of how much you wanted to, and we both know that.”

“I just want you to know that I do take responsibility for the way I left you. I don’t want this to come across as some sob-story excuse,” you frown.

Spencer huffs out a soft laugh.

“Isn’t it kind of ironic that we both thought that we were the reason things ended between us? Y/N, if it helps to hear it, then I forgive you for anything you did back then. But I don’t think you need forgiving. At least, not from me. We were both 21. Of course, we’d do things differently if we could go back. We often tell victims suffering from survivor’s guilt that they did the best that they could with the resources they had at the time.”

That sentiment resonates with you a lot. It’s also applicable to basically every guilt-laden memory from your youth. You were dealing with a lot. You were surviving, but you never hurt anyone on purpose. 

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You fight the urge to ask what for, choosing to accept his gratitude instead.

The kids have gone home for the night; when, you don’t know. You don’t glance at your watch, but it must be about ten. Usually, you’d be crawling into bed around this time. With the lights dimmed, you’d be flipping through a book, occasionally getting so absorbed in it that you forget about the tea to your side. 

You’re familiar with how quiet it gets in here at this time of night, especially on a weeknight. In college, you were downing so much late-night coffee in here, especially around exam season, that they started to regularly slide you an extra one, on the house. But this silence is heavy. 

The weight of the guilt you’ve carried for so many years is gone, and everything that you came here to say has been said. This silence should be calming, but it’s crushing. 

Speaking now is like taking a sledgehammer to a sheet of plate glass, but the longer you wait, the worse it’ll get. “Are you—” you blurt out.

At the same time, Spencer says something that you don’t make out, before he cuts himself off with a fumble.

You apologize, wishing you had never even started, but Spencer insists.

“No, please. You go first.”

You pull your hands from his, crossing your arms in front of your body.

Again, unable to meet his eyes, you ask, “I just figured I’d shift to a lighter topic and ask if you were seeing anyone these days? That’s all it was.” 

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you add, “Sorry, that was probably way too forward—”

“Y/N, I’ve been single for a long time,” he laughs. “One-night stands aren’t a particularly desirable concept. I went on some dates, but none of them developed into anything.”

“Really?”

“You act surprised.”

“I am.”

“What about you?” Spencer asks. “Are you seeing anyone?”

His voice is slightly huskier and free of any gaiety. You haven’t heard his voice like this since… probably since that morning you left. It stirs you at your core. The conversation is innocuous enough, but your body says otherwise.

"I’ve, uh, been single for about three years now? I just haven’t had the energy to put into going out and meeting people. I’m not 21 anymore. Bars and clubs aren’t really my scene. I did one speed-dating event, but it was a disaster.”

“How so?”

“I was the youngest one there, and all the guys were over 40. As you’d expect, none of them had any tact about it, even if I had been considering a fifteen year, plus age-gap relationship. Which, to be clear, I wasn’t.”

Spencer tries to suppress a laugh, and you follow suit. 

“Maybe I just picked the wrong event,” you add, “but it definitely turned me off of ever doing a speed-dating event again. I wore a low-cut top and a push-up bra that day, and the percentage of men who commented on my ‘nice rack’ was above half.”

It’s nice to be joking and laughing with him again. Even though you’re wearing the same modest long-sleeve turtleneck you wore to work and Spencer’s firmly keeping his eyes above shoulder-height, you can sense the attention you’ve drawn to your chest. But you want him to look. You want him to touch you again. 

Memories of sleeping with Spencer have faded with time, but having him in front of you, in the flesh, again has brought some clarity back.

Memories of his soft, hot mouth sucking at one nipple while his fingers pinched and rolled the other one. His hands are rougher now, but you can remember that hand trailing down your bare stomach, the featherlight touch of his fingers causing you to ache with anticipation. Those eyes. Seeing that hazel brings back memories of Spencer’s face, begging you to let him cum. It was your favorite way to see him; feeling so good that he was pleading for a release. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

Well, that’s fucking embarrassing.

“Sorry, yeah. I was just a bit distracted.”

A smirk crawls up his face. “Oh, am I boring you!?”

“No, of course not!” you quickly spit out. “I’m sorry. That was so rude to just check out like that.”

The glimmer of laughter in his eyes and the grin lighting up his face only add fuel to the fire of your desire. 

Shit. You actually want to fuck him again, don’t you?

 “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have teased you about it. What was on your mind?”

Are you really going to do this? This is probably your best shot, right? 

With a slightly lowered voice, eyes locked on his, you say, “You, Spencer.”

He seems… surprised? A bit startled, maybe? 

You grasp on to the fleeting bravado, trying to avoid letting any embarrassment cross your face. The ball is in his court now. A blush blooms beneath your skin, heating your cheeks and chest. The hand in your lap is shaking, so you clasp your hands together under the table, squeezing as tight as you can.

You’ve come onto guys for hookups before, but this isn’t just flirting with a random guy at some bar to try to take him home. This is saying, “II’ve shown you all the ugly parts of me and of my life. Do you still want me? Because I want you.”

When the initial shock wears off, Spencer blows out a puff of air and runs a hand through his hair.

His eyes aren’t returning to yours yet, though, and he hasn’t said a word. Have you been reading him wrong? Maybe he was just being friendly? Is he unattracted to you now? Maybe it’s deeper than any of that. You already broke his heart once, and then, while apologizing, you explained just how messy your life is. Not exactly boner material.

Trying to keep your tone steady and failing, you add, “It’s totally cool if you don’t feel the same way, just so you know. My feelings won’t be hurt.” Lie. “I literally just dumped all of my trauma on you, so this was probably poor timing on my part. I just thought you should know that I’m still very much attracted to you.”

This turtleneck feels like it’s choking you. You bring your hand up to the collar and scratch underneath the fabric, trying to free yourself of at least one excruciatingly uncomfortable sensation.

You shake your head. Unable to bear it any longer, you say, “I’m sorry. We can just talk about—”

“Y/N…”

Your heart stops and every muscle in your body freezes in place. You catch his knuckles white, then flushed pink as he releases a clenched fist on the tabletop. He straightens again and leans closer to you, over the table. 

His face is closer to yours than it has been all day. His gaze finally lifts from the table; first to your lips, then to your eyes, before falling back to your lips.

His lip quivers as he opens his mouth. Speaking barely above a whisper, pain tinges his voice. “I need to touch you.”

Besides being more turned on than you thought possible while sitting in a cafe, the sheer relief of not being rejected further emboldens you, fueling your next question. 

“Do you want to come home with me?”

Not taking his eyes off of your lips, he asks, “Just to clarify, you mean—”

Leaning in, you cut him off and whisper, “Yes, Spencer, for sex.”

He swallows hard and nods dumbly, eyes still firmly planted on your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[ladyloveandjustice]

List of "Does it Like Women" Results and whether I agree

I find the "Does it like women" blog fascinating, as y'all have probably noticed. I always tend to think deeply about this topic when I consume media, so I wanted to make a list of results I disagree with, because it interests me! I'll likely be updating this through reblogs if my interest doesn't wane, I'll make a note in the replies when I do!

Loves Women

I agree with all of these so far! Well, loves women might be a little bit of a stretch for the first Spiderverse movie (on the other hand...doc ock...hnnn), but I think the second does so yeah basically agree.

Likes Women

Kill la Kill- Man it's 2013 again and I'm seeing tumblr make powerpoints about how klk is deeply feminist and it's actually a super deep critique of harassment that Ryuko has to wear the ugliest outfit ever and Westerners Don't Understand (person making this argument is inevitably a Westerner).

Yeah, based on the part I've seen and everything I've heard, hard disagree. But I have not seen the whole thing, just those three, I do know the part I saw included rape jokes a plenty, a weird victim-blamey take on "not being ashamed" of being forced into a skimpy outfit and how if you're bothered by men ogling you that's your weakness, and a vagina wedgie. I'm not as mad about it as I was back then,and I can appreciate the show has it's good points later on. Not having watched it also means my knowledge is incomplete. However, I have listened to really in depth breakdowns of the series (mainly Anifem's podcast), so I know exactly what happens, and yeah, the treatment of women doesn't impress me. I'm on the dislike side, (holding back on hates because again, haven't seen all of it)

...could understand mixed feelings though, I guess

Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 anime- nahhhh man, it doesn't like women, treating them significantly worse than the manga it adapted. I have a lot of issues, from how thoroughly it shafted Winry, to how it gave Riza nothing, to Dante being every cliche about a female villain they could fit in here, the treatment of Rose leaving a horrible taste in my mouth (I see arguments of what happened to her being a critique of imperialism, however I have yet to see anyone justify why the show had to continue to have her kidnapped and assaulted and treated as an afterthought after that) and some truly rancid one-off episodes.

I break down my problems with it at the end of the little FMA 2003 liveblog I did, though it's phrased super obnoxiously because I wrote it...oh my god twelve years ago oh god I'm crumbling to dust as we speak. But I break down the basics with the "top gross things" post I did (ignore any thoughts on race I had no place writing bout that tbh). The tag anime: turn your zombie mom into ethanol also goes into more of my thoughts, though again, very obnoxious and the deeper you dig the more ancient and obnoxious it will get lmao.

I have several ancient posts on how it treated Winry in particular, as she was my fave and was done so dirty, and I think they hold up fairly well. Here's a post I made about the Winry-Roy plotline, and a good response by another user. Then we have this post, ignore horrible art.

(Please don't try to spark a debate with any of this stuff, it's years and years old, I went through so much drama and legit panic attacks, and I'm not committed anymore. Love 2003 and think it likes women if you want, that's fine! I'm just trying to illustrate what I mean in saying imo it dislikes women).

The Handmaiden- This poll reminded me to finally get around to watching this movie, and I'm so glad I did! I'd go with "loves women" for this one actually,The nos must either be misclicks or people who don't understand that two women having sex on screen is not the same as the male gaze.

Madoka- I'd definitely go more towards mixed feelings honestly (especially if we're counting Rebellion) but I get the people who say "likes".

Yuri is my Job- it loves women, it loves messy women, it loves women who love women, it loves them so much, idk why it got a sizeable no vote. People who only watched the first ep? People who think yuri is "bad"?

Mob Psycho 100- Someone in the notes says "accidentally likes women" and that's the only answer in the "likes women" area I'll accept. It has 10 million prominent male characters and like three prominent female characters. ONE really really obviously has a hard time imagining women as powerful or action heroes. (this is reflected in One Punch Man too) (One Punch Man actively hates women and queer people though, Mob is infinitely better) Only one who ever gets to fight and play with the boys, and she's a low level mook, and we have to spend 75% percent of her limited screentime on whether it's actually okay to fight women, with her winning argument being "Well you're literally a child so I guess it evens out" (???) The little girl with the evil dolls gets even less screentime.

I do like that the series examines how Mob idealized Takane and how people not caring about the real her made her tired, as well as how it allowed her to reject Mob and was basically a lesson in the importance of accepting rejection. But her screentime is also really limited, and I feel like we could have dove into her a lot more. Tome is a wonderful weird girl and I liked her little arc, and I hear she gets more in the Reigen manga, but still not a TON of screentime, and even with her there are a couple jabs about how she doesn't "count" as a girl due to not acting traditionally feminine we're clearly supposed to find funny. Emi is...there I guess. There's that sweet scene with the writer girl, and the bully girl, but they're like, not reoccurring at all, as evidenced by how I can't remember their names.

And uh. the girls school episode.

Anyway. Hot take but I don't think "they're barely in the story but when they are two of them are treated pretty decently and have some depth, though there is some weird stuff about whether women can even fight men or whatever" really counts as "likes women". I'd go more mixed feelings.

Life is Strange-out of the two options I chose dislikes, but my feelings are a lot closer to "mixed feelings". I go into why here.

Gushing Over Magical Girls- lol. lmao even. The anime about middle school girls who look 8 sexually assaulting other middle school girls DEFINITELY doesn't like women. I go into more detail here.

Cowboy Bebop: Mixed feelings, probably. I chose dislikes because yes, Faye and Ed are great (you could def read Ed as nb though), but Faye also is repeatedly damsel in distress'd and treated as incompetent in her field when I don't think she should be, she can be a failgirl without being the sole woman in the action side of the group and also the least capable (there's also That Scene in the movie). also i just. it's fine that she's sexy but I hate her outfit. give her something nicer looking, it's so ugly. But my main reason for a dislike vote is the treatment of Julia. Girl is a textbook example of fridging. They really gave her so little. But yeah I could see mixed feelings.

Also do you remember that one scene during Faye's tragic backstory where she's hospitalized and the camera requires us to look down her super (painful looking? like idk how she's not screaming about it) squished boobs during this tense and important moment god that took me out. whenever anyone acts like Faye always owns her sexiness and the camera never does anything I remember that scene.

Ranma 1/2: I've seen read a good chunk of it, and this result is...surprising. Maybe by the standards of 80's manga though, who knows.

Better Call Saul- I did vote yes on this one, but I'd put it more at mixed feelings. Kim is a fantastic character, but there aren't enough women on the show at all. She's a major part of the show, but basically the only one of any note. I only voted yes because I finally remembered Francesca was a reoccurring character and she's all right, but the fact I had to think to remember...

Undead Unluck: I know it gets a lot better later but I'm not sure if a work that has it's female character continuously and comically sexually harassed for the first few chapters can ever get liking women privileges. I don't know enough about it but it might be a mixed feelings situation.

Akiba Maid War: tbh I'd probably give this 'loves women'.

Ducktales: For the second season specifically I'd say "loves women". The first season leans more towards 'like women' though, so it evens out.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend- Should be "loves women" but people are ridic and voted based on the title.

Mixed Feelings

Dracula- IIII definitely think it dislikes women, sorry guys. Mina is a great character and you do have to take it in the context of when it was written. But there are surely contemporaries of Bram Stoker that wouldn't have randomly gone out of their way to scoff at the "New Woman". Not to mention again, really random sidebars about how men are so much smarter and cooler and women should be grateful to them. I could go on about Lucy and how Mina is treated and whether that's a critique of sexism or just playing into it and how it's so open to interpretation but I'll stop here.

also the book is hugely anti- Romani, immigrant etc and I think that ties into disliking women since some women are those Romani and immigrants

It really really felt like a case where a lot of people in the Drac Daily tag just wanted it to be super feminist because they liked it (you can like things without having to make them feminist! it's fine!), and the way they scoffed at feminist scholars who had "surface level readings" of the text (aka they dared to say it was sexist) still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

The Lego Movie: dislikes women. what are y'all on. Even it's own sequel calls it out for disliking women. Wildstyle is basically the only woman with real characterization and she's the purest concentration of "hypercompetent woman must play second fiddle to Average Male loser who is the one who actually saves the world and also she falls in love with him because of course she does'. Then Wonder Woman got one line (in literally the first theatrical move she got to even be in) and Superman and Batman a lot of screen time.

Does not like

Scott Pilgrim- Don't get this result, I'd put it at likes or mixed feelings? It's literally about how Scott has weird issues with women where he doesn't see them as to full people they are, and it calls him out on that hard. The whole sixth volume is how he made up a damsel in distress scenario for Kim and always took her for granted, how he put all the blame on Envy for the end of their relationship when he played a huge role in that, Knives finally getting over him, moving on, and telling him he needs to grow up a little (highlighting how his grossness towards her was him refusing to accept that he was an adult now, and that he was horrible to her, and yes he does apologize), and accepting that he and Ramona are both messed up people and she's just as flawed as he is, taking down the pedestal he put her on. And having Ramona triumphantly confront her abuser. Scott acknowledges he has a lot in common with Gideon, the supervillain!

Roxy is a sticking point, the whole 'it was a phase thing' and her and Ramona's relationshipbeing unexplored was annoying (fixed in Takes Off) but even she had some moments of pathos and was definitely the (Ramona's) ex the story seemed to sympathize with the most.

I dunno. this seems like a tumblr lacks media literacy thing again. Did you think the narrative agrees with Scott. Did you only watch the movie.

Succession- I'd go more mixed feelings? Dislikes is fine, I think it doesn't have enough women and often privileges male characters over them, but sometimes it's examination of the sexism Shiv faces is really incisive, and she's a complex character. But she should have gotten that abortion.

Watchmen: hates women actually. Pretty much anything written by Alan Moore does.

Persona 4: I think it hates women actually. But dislike is fine too.

Merlin: Everything I've heard about the show puts in in the hates camp rather than dislikes, but i never watched it (I did watch this video on it, and the bootlicking is out of this world if it's accurate) so I can't really comment

Fables: I cannot fathom how this did not get "hates women". Not just the fact it's written by a known misogynist. I will always remind everyone that I was literally there to see Bill Willingham say the female fans protesting the misogynist treatment of Stephanie Brown were annoying and he wishes he could shoot them. I was there. I heard him. This attitude completely shows up in his work. On top of that, his conservative, women hating idealogy all over this comic. Do you not remember all the random abortion soapboxes and how hard Snow White got sidelined????

And when I refreshed my memory, I discovered the reason Snow White had kids when she didn't want to was because a spell made her have sex with the male lead and she didn't even remember that happening. I also forgot that her backstory was the seven dwarfs raped her (but then she murdered them! Girl Power!) This is only the tip of the iceberg, I rediscovered way too many screwed up things he did to his female characters. Plus blatant Zionist propaganda and a ton of racism.

Like Snow White's backstory was some dark and edgy rape revenge and she's an Empowered Woman now, only to have her be raped by the man she will marry (in a mutual rape) but we don't call it that, and now she has kids she doesn't want, she can't get an abortion because It's Evil, time to quit her job she's proud of and move to a farm to have six kids.

iCarly-- It hates women! Dan Schneider. That should be all we need but some people in the comments insisted on separating the art from the artist despite the fact the artist is ALL OVER the art, and said art directly tormented Jeanette McCurdy! There was so much content in the show that was there to specifically torment her-- the fact her character has a food addiction/eating disorder while she had a real life eating disorder and they had to have known this, the fact after hearing she had a crush on an actor then they wrote it into her character to humiliate her, the fact they continually sexualized her while knowing her discomfort with it and with her body-- I have also watched the exhaustive basically minute-by-minute breakdown by QuintonReviews. Some gross shit happens on that show.

Hates Women

Agree with all of these so far!

[saintobio]

Hi saint!!! I hope you're doing well. You've been very active these days, and I hope you're still taking time for yourself!!🫶

First thing first...BLACK CANVAS!!😭😭👏

GIRL, YOU BROKE MY HEART. It was actually a very realistic, heartwarming but still heartbreaking ending, but I'm glad sukuna had the chance to prove himself and to feel good with the person he is. It makes me so incredibly happy. It's still a little bitter how he was able to move on and get engaged after just two years, but it's for the best of both him and mc. As regards mc, I can't understand if she's in a relationship with satoru? She seemed to be attracted to sukuna and to have some feelings still, but I don't know 👁👄👁

As for sy, the sneak peak you posted yesterday kinda broke my heart. I feel like both mc and satoru are struggling, and mc, being traumatised and skeptical towards gojo, can't let him explain the situation. I kinda wish she would hear him out🥲

And I wonder what akemi situation actually is👁👄👁 and I also wonder if mc will misunderstand something since, in the sneak peak, she interrupted gojo right when he was about to tell her (supposedly)

I've ranted enough!! Thank you so much for interacting with us Saint!! Sending you love🫶🫶💗

i am doing great, thank you 🥹 i’m working from home for the next 2 weeks so i’ve been having so much free time lately.

also for blank canvas bahaha i was satisfied w the ending :’) but what i wanted to show in sukuna’s engagement is this topic you guys might’ve read somehwere, where the man would usually ask the next woman in his life for marriage when he feels ‘most ready’. so he could be with someone for 10 years and not get married, and then jump onto the next relationship for 2 months and immediately feel like he’s ready to be tied down. that’s kinda how it went for him. but still, he acknowledges that yn was the right person wrong time.

and yes, yn is in a relationship with bc!satoru. but since there was no proper closure between her and sukuna, she was unable to control her feelings around him. by the end of bc, she definitely let go of their past now, and she’s fully ready to commit to satoru.

(gaaaah let me just add bc!sukuna was so fun for me to write abt bc my irl bf is also a biker and i’m his proud backpack lollll he’s also looking to get an r1 soon 🤧 i might just fulfill my bc fantasy there)

now for sy! the reason miscommunication happens between gojo and yn a lot is bcos they’re so scared of being hurt and ‘not chosen’ to the point where they’d just not hear the other person out. i think this specifically points to yn bcos she just has that perception that everything gojo does will always end up hurting her, so she’s just not trying to hear it anymore regardless of what he has to say 😅

anyway, this is probably my longest answer here so i’ll cut it here now. again, thank you sm for reading and supporting my fics <33