#thanks to comment I want to reiterate I do like Izzy but he is a grown man not a wet cat and made a lot of really bad mistakes

[the-fandom-finder]

It think my main problem with some Izzy fans is they straight up lie or have extreme cognitive dissonance for stuff. “Izzy is more popular than ed/stede” no you were just around people who like is he more than them? I promise you the average person fandom or not does not like him more than the main characters. Also, just because he’s popular in the fandom doesn’t mean he’s a better character. You how many fandom I’ve been where they sent her around the white male character more than any other character? So often it’s a dime a dozen. He talks about how crazy Ed is before we even meet the character and when we meet him, he’s just a little suicidal at very least at that point. honestly even if he did survive, it would not make sense for him to be the captain of the ship. It’s canon that he’s not good at running anything and only really good at violence. he’s an interesting character meant to represent toxic masculinity at least in season one and how breakable and fragile it is. Honestly, him and Zuko have a lot in common when it comes to fandoms. These characters are both flawed and I’ve done bad things, but for some reason, some fans wanna make them look perfect like they’ve done nothing wrong and excuse everything that comes with the cost of completely miss characterizing everyone else around them. Man called the British, which are basically the cop because he didn’t get what he wants and view himself as knowing Ed more than himself which is messed up, bro. and the story portrays this as bad like it should be. Also, why are all the tags that were created to criticize Izzy taking over by Izzy fans like you asked for a specific tag and then take it over and then get upset when people use it. I also have seen fans on Twitter called themselves Ofmd hater and then spend all their time talking about the show. It’s OK to move on. It is not the Izzy show and never was. I have to rewash the show to remember Izzy‘s and actually interesting character because his fans have changed him so much that I can’t stand him if I don’t watch the show. There is a reason why people were being rude against the phantom for some stupid reason reasons or only a small group of people they named them and that weird little list they had. Now I don’t think any of the Izzy fan should be attacked or doxxed because that’s just weird and wrong. That doesn’t mean you can’t criticize them and how weird they are about this white man. I think it’s time for some of you who just have so much hatred of everything else in the TV show. Make an OC That’s like 2 inches away from that character and leave you’ll be much happier. Another problem I have is how some people treat David he’s not a perfect man nor perfect writer, but to go out of your way to say you understand the story infinitely more than him is crazy. He is shown multiple times he loves the character. This is just how he wanted to take him in the story not out of malice,, not out of homophobia not of hatred for disabled people, but because that’s how his story was always going to end he just got to die slightly less full of hate and may be a little happy. Izzy and ed had no chance of ending up together. The story basically states that pretty early that it was one-sided and not entirely healthy on either side. Also celebrating the show knocking a third season and people losing their jobs even though you were probably going to see Izzy again in some form is crazy.  I promise you your hate did nothing or brothers was just being a cheap ass and canceled other diverse shows so it definitely wasn’t because of you. Either way, I guess I win in the end. I still love the show and not full of anger at least about this. I got a lot of other problems lol. This post is probably way too long about something that doesn’t really matter too much but it feels good to get it out especially with finals coming around. If you read this entire thing and hate me well thanks for reading. I guess. Hope you have a nice day and I mean that genuinely life‘s kind of sucks right now for everyone lol.

[poutpoutlilith]

Dear @abihasablog,

Happy Festivus! Today's your @squealing-santa day. I'm so honored to have been assigned to you this year. Please enjoy this Steddyhands fic. Lee Stede, of course.

Also, please forgive my complete ineptitude with anything to do with *actually* using this website.

ao3 link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/52440493

Warning: Izzy describes some rather violent acts in conversation, but the acts never happen.

"A Dose of Reason"

Word Count: 3596

Word Count Fact: 3596 is not prime, nor is it square free. There is a unique non-cyclic Abelian group of order 3596.

“Hey, Ed, I wanted your opinion on something,” whined Stede in an abandoned attempt to catch his breath.

“Hmmn?” replied Edward, jingling his bell as he turned his neck to face the captain.

“It’s about Izzy. Was I too harsh on him?”

“What?”

“Our confrontation today. You must have overheard it down there.”

“I-”

“And?” asked Stede, his panic only growing.

“Is that what his yelling was? I couldn’t quite tell what he said to you.” Edward cracked his wrists and folded his hands, now fully turning his body to face Stede.

“I was more worried about what I said to him to set him off like that.”

“Well, for starters, I didn’t even hear it. Given the history of my leadership style, that should tell you everything I think about whatever it was you did.”

“Ed! I’m really upset right now. Words can hurt our feelings, even if spoken softly, remember?” Edward sighed in reluctant agreement.

“You know what? I’ll go have a chat with him.”

“Be subtle,” Stede requested through a shaky voice. Edward smiled back at him, figuring he was just being his usual self and overblowing whatever it was.

“I will. He’ll think I was concerned about his yelling, and he’ll think I was surprised to learn it was you that set him off.”

“You really mean that? You think you can pull it off?”

“I do. I’ll come and find you in about a half hour.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Mmn,” nodded Edward brightly as he made haste to go and find Izzy.

“The hell do you want?” Izzy groaned at Edward. He kept his gaze out and unfocused on the southern horizon. Edward only moved closer to him, eventually sitting next to him. “On with it or fuck right off! You know what? Why don’t you just do that and save us both the trouble.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t yelling a bigger storm than usual a little bit ago. I could almost make out what you were saying.”

“Fucking Bonnet! Fucking twat Bonnet!” sprayed Izzy in a coarse tone that somehow made every syllable irate and plosive. A small dribble of saliva landed on his chin, which he harshly brushed away with his knuckles in a closed fist. 

“Captain got you pent up again?” Edward again pried.

“Why don’t you just fuck off and save us the trouble?” Izzy reiterated. Edward stood up in place but did not move, staring at Izzy to bait him into saying something, anything, he could take back to Stede. Eventually Izzy looked up and their eyes met. “Fine, if you’re gonna try and piss me off like this I might as well get pissed.”

“Go ahead, Izzy.”

“Fuck off!” he snapped. “Sometimes I just wanna get ahold of Bonnet and fucking destroy him. Fingers and teeth and blood everywhere. And then sew them back on and do it again. And again and again. Fucking twat! With his fucking feelings. And being right about everything. I ought to fucking kick him or something. Just to see him powerless and without some fucking retort. Hell, I’d even tickle the man if it made him cry.”

“What did he say?” Edward asked suddenly, attempting to mask how he perked up at that last sentence. He was on a mission from the captain, after all, and a secret one at that.

“He told me how I’m such a miserable twat. I mean, he didn’t say it like that. Gugh, I should have told him to fuck off!”

“You did, seven times,” Edward interrupted. Izzy chuckled a bit, but neither man could tell if it was at Edward’s comment or simply a component of the larger exasperated and very angry demeanor on display. Izzy continued, basically ignoring Edward.

“He just told me how I should remember it’s okay to talk about my feelings. How it’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up. About how I’ve been through a lot. About how he cares. The fucking nerve on that fucking Bonnet! Laying it on thick like he’s got it all figured out. I wish he’d figure out how to send himself straight the fucking fuck to fucking hell!” Izzy stopped yelling and let himself sink all the way down onto the deck, staring up at the clouded sky.

“At least you recognize he’s right. Not to sound like I’m on his side or whatever, but maybe there’s a way to work through some of what you said.”

“But you do just sound just like the man. You’re fucking whipped, mate. You even wear a little kitty collar for him.”

“That’s not what that’s for and you know it! And so long as we both know he’s right, we might as well figure something out. I’m going to be honest, I think we should help you make Stede cry a little if that’s your thing.”

“Said like you’ve truly given up on yourself yet again,” Izzy snided. Edward sighed.

“I’m going to go talk to Stede to try and make anyone better during all of this. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Fuck you, Edward,” said Izzy, “and thanks. Thanks a lot.” He sat up and faced the open ocean again, waiting for Edward to leave and go find Stede.

As Edward reentered the room, he found Stede in about the most awkward seating position imaginable. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, chipper from the clavicle up and a twitchy disaster everywhere below that. Stede snapped around to greet him wordlessly, straightening his posture and wincing in preparation to hear the worst. Edward knew better than to frame a conversation as anything other than what Stede wanted or expected.

“He said you laid it on pretty thick. He’s an absolute mess but deep down he understands why you are the way that you are. But he’s really mad about it.”

“That’s great! Maybe he’ll want to talk it through!” Edward only sighed at Stede’s optimism. It was cute. Futile against a berserking Izzy Hands, but very cute.

“Never, I’m afraid. At least not at first with this one. Listen, uhm, I need you to let him tickle you to tears so he doesn’t dismember you in your sleep or turn your teeth into flour.”

“Well, that’s quite an interesting analysis. He sounds very angry. Perhaps what he’s after is some casual discussion. A dose of reason, to quell his inner-”

“Reason, eh? Is that what you conspiring fucks want to call it?” spat Izzy from some nearby stairs.

“I was only trying to get him to take the tickling option so there’s less blood for me and the crew to clean up,” offered Edward in his own defense.

“Fuck the both of yous!”

“Izzy, try to understand what it is I’m seeking here,” pleaded Stede. Izzy only scoffed and advanced toward him. Stede backed himself against a shelf where Izzy towered beneath him. Stede would never turn the confrontation physical. And Izzy wasn’t about to just lay hands on the captain without any preamble.

“I don’t care what you want, Bonnet. This ship may be yours, but you are an idiot too weak to do anything but bend at the command of your fucking feelings. It makes me sick as hell. And I just wish I could show you the only feeling that matters in the pirate world. Helplessness. Suffering. The sharp and ruthless imbalance of power. Something a rich boy like you can never truly earn a worthwhile perspective on.” Stede winced at Izzy’s words, recoiling in his head as a haunting vision from his childhood took over. The spatter of blood. Everywhere that life has taken him from then on. Back to the present moment where his jaw gaped and he had no idea how to redirect Izzy’s anger with the power of words and heartfelt connection anymore. It felt too deep. Too real.

“You really want to show me how bad it’s supposed to hurt to be alive, don’t you, Mr. Hands?”

“For as long as it takes to shatter that flaccid and privileged skull of yours.”

“Don’t do this,” a sullen Edward suggested. Izzy saw the disappointment in his eyes. It got to him, which felt like a victory for Stede. That stung, and only angered him further. He tried his best to play it off, backing away from Stede and pacing about the immediate area.

“You should know I would never touch my Captain without permission to do so. Let alone all of that blood and guts stuff, tempting as it may be.”

“But you mentioned tickling, though, didn’t you? At least, Ed made it sound like you did. That might actually be quite fun. Edward loves to make me laugh. I’d imagine I’m very fun.”

“This isn’t about fun, Bonnet. It’s a matter of principle is all. But that explains why Ed shifted his posture at my little joke earlier. Fond memories of your intimacies or something?”

“Well, that’s,” started Ed, beet red and wishing he would wake up in Stede’s bed to spare himself the lasting reality of the sudden flash of embarrassment. He looked to Stede, as if beckoning for permission. That permission came with a nod.  “Yeah,” he shrugged, hanging his head and closing his eyes for a moment. Stede came to his rescue.

“The truth is, I actually quite like it,” he confessed with a proud smile. His tone was flat and dull, but he at least managed a confident enough pull at the corners of his mouth that went well with the rosy complexion that was starting to take up residence in his cheeks.

“You fucking would, Bonnet. Of all people and of all things.” Izzy paused in his paces to turn and face Stede. He contemplated his next words carefully, adjusting his posture and tone accordingly before moving just a couple steps closer to Stede. “You know what? That actually sounds kind of cute. I’m still gonna make your kittenthing here help me make you cry, but what do we say we try and make peace by taking one out of both our playbook with a little tickle scene?”

“Right here?” Stede asked.

“And right now,” Izzy smirked. “What do you say?” Stede looked to Edward, who nodded him on.

“Alright,” shook Stede. “I guess we’ll go and make this happen, then.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” barked Izzy as he lunged at the captain, grabbing his sides and pressing him back into the shelf. “This business gets taken care of right here and right now. The cat either watches or joins me. Your call.”

“Please don’t make me watch, Stede, if you think you can handle it,” Edward said shyly.

“Of course you can join in, Ed,” Stede gushed, looking past Izzy. He then turned his attention back to Izzy. “Happy to be here for whatever you may need.”

“Happy fucking Bonnet, eh? That’s where your trouble began. That smile. That Bonnet fucking smile.”

“Would it be better if I frowned?” Stede demonstrated, and Izzy did not react. “Perhaps something more neutral, a bit stoic with hints of fear?” Stede tried on a second face, and Izzy had had enough of his antics. Wordlessly, he started tickling Stede hard and fast. Stede was far too distracted by his face making to see it coming. “I actually quite think my noseahahahaha! Ihihi g-guess-”

“What?” Izzy teased with a roar.

“Guess you wehent with a smihihile!” Stede screamed. He turned his neck to face away, not that it would really matter when his ribs and stomach were the center of attention and his eyes were bolted shut. 

Izzy quickly made room for Edward, and with two men holding him there Stede was just about locked in place. He tried to sink to the floor, but Izzy and Edward only followed him there. He sat with legs outstretched and T-Rex arms barely positioning his elbows in self defense. He remained surprisingly still, a dead giveaway he was having a wonderful time, even if he was being quite fussy.

“He usually stay this still for you?” asked Izzy, adjusting his position to kneel on Stede’s leg and facing Edward more fully.

“Always. Deep down, it’s like he said. He really does love it.”

“All the noise he’s making you just almost couldn’t tell. Listen to him roar like a little bitch.”

“I know. Isn’t he cute?” 

Izzy crowed a big belly laugh in reply to Edward’s question, turning back to his original position and moving his hands upward. He noticed Edward moving around the side of Stede, but didn’t try to intentionally take that into account. He was determined to figure Stede out on his own, and he didn’t want to get too distracted from eating up Stede’s reactions to make that happen. Stede was essentially a giggly puddle at the mercy of four spidering, digging, prodding, and clawing hands, and Izzy studied his every squirm and plea with devotion.

“Ohohohoho I’m actually the cutest!” exclaimed Stede, his smile only widening as he fell to the side away from Edward and started rolling away from the wall. He made his way onto his stomach without the necessary momentum to turn any further, so he stopped in place. Edward knelt between him and the wall, Izzy next to him on his other side. Stede shook his head from side to side but said nothing.

Wordlessly, Edward stared for Izzy’s attention, eventually locking eyes with him. They paused for a moment, letting Stede catch his breath. Motioning with his eyes, Edward got Izzy to focus his visual attention on Stede’s shoulders. Edward hovered a hand above Stede’s left shoulder and waited for Izzy to figure out what to do with his right. Bobbing their heads, they counted silently to three and started up again together.

“Wahahahait!” cried Stede. He kicked his legs and huffed and puffed until Edward and Izzy stopped again just a few seconds later. There was a brief silence.

“Stede?” Edward asked flatly. Stede pursed his lips but did not immediately say anything.

“Captain?” tried Izzy, being met with more silence.

“Stede, you need to tell us what’s wrong.”

“Oh, uhm, well,” the captain began. He pushed himself with a wrist onto his side and fell onto his back. His face looked its absolute reddest.

“Your face is red, Captain,” observed Izzy, “and we haven’t even done anything severe yet. You need to call it quits or something?”

“Well, no,” Stede admitted, “I’m actually fine. That was just so unexpectedly coordinated and sudden and intense. It was actually quite-”

“Do you want us to keep going?” Edward pressed, cutting him off.

“That would be splendid, thank you.”

“Arms out, then,” Izzy ordered. Stede obeyed. “And take it with pride,” he added. He leaned over and pinned Stede’s wrist with one of his own, putting plenty of weight on it. Edward mirrored him, and with Stede pinned beneath them both they started again.

Stede immediately closed his eyes and threw his head all the way back. Edward and Izzy paused at the thudding sound it made with the floor, but a sharply giggled okay from Stede had them resuming as quickly as the thud had dissipated. He laughed and strained his arms, but they would not budge from beneath those of his comrades.

“Damn ihihihit!” he squealed, “this is a mohohost unusual position to beheheehe in!”

“Mine too, be sure,” sighed Lucius. Izzy paid him no attention, but Edward looked up at him and cocked his gaze. Lowing his tone, Lucius spoke to Edward directly. “I’m just gonna,” he trailed off, shaking an open-palmed hand in the direction of the nearby stairs and shrinking his posture. With an ugly, forced smile he stepped over Stede and made himself gone, perhaps about to go tell someone what he saw. Perhaps not.

Edward turned back to Stede, who didn’t seem to notice the presence of his scribe. His eyes were still shut with a stupidly giddy smile spread across his entire face. Stede was really having a time with his two ticklers. Edward took his hands away for a moment. With his left hand, he caressed Stede’s cheek. Stede opened his eyes and looked at him.

“You’re doing so good right now,” Edward scruffed. Stede smiled.

“I think he can manage a little better for longer,” Izzy insinuated. Stede’s smile turned to fear, to panic, to arousal, and back to a bigger smile, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face.

“Only if he’s up to it.” Edward was firm.

“Please,” said Stede. His voice was soft and whiny, as if there was no thought in the world worse than having to leave his ticklish predicament behind.

“See? He wants us to push him to be good, isn’t that right, boy?” Izzy cooed.

“Yes! Goodness, Izzy, fuck!” Stede sputtered. He couldn’t manage much more than that, instead grimacing silently as if to invite the tickling to resume.

Edward immediately started up again. He kept one hand on Stede’s adorable face. This time firmer, as if to keep his gaze fixed on Izzy. His other hand started to explore Stede’s stomach with a walking tap, probing a minefield of spots and watching Stede’s face. He walked his hand higher and higher with his arm until he was almost to Stede’s chest, where he saw an inviting twitch in Stede’s neck. He stopped his hand there and rotated it slightly, pinching at about that height along Stede’s side.

Stede thrashed in place as Edward did so, and he screamed. He screamed as if there was no thought in the world worse than staying in his ticklish predicament. But a signal in the back of his mind forced him to pause and realize he liked it. He only cried out for the torment to continue.

Izzy kept his hands in Stede’s armpits. He had a lot of fun with lighter techniques while Edward did his thing with his sides. Stede managed to stay still enough to keep his arms most of the way outstretched on his own. Izzy drummed his fingers up and down the soft, taut patches of skin, occasionally stopping to blow on Stede’s neck or scratch the exposed piece of his shoulder with his beard. 

“Thahahahat’s a little fohohorward of you,” suggested Stede as Izzy’s beard and breath lingered longer and longer there as the minutes snowballed by.

“Nonsense, Captain, I’m on a mission with this little game,” deflected Izzy. Stede just kept on laughing, but Izzy finally convinced him to open his eyes. Immediate eye contact. “There you are, boy. How do you feel?”

“Nehehevahar bett-ter!” struggled Stede, maintaining eye contact but blinking rapidly at the flood of sensation as Izzy changed his technique to mirror Edward’s death spot squeezes on the other side.

“Tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold yourself back,” Izzy commanded.

“Ehehehed,” laughed Stede.

“Hmmn?” Edward growled with a moderately horny squint back at the captain.

“I’m feheeling quihihite aroused,” reported Stede matter-of-factly, save for the peals of ticklish laughter trying their best to interrupt him. Edward leaned in and kissed Stede, letting go with his tickling hand and straddling Stede more fully.

His leg came to rest on Izzy’s hand, which his old first mate quickly retracted. Stede seemed to quickly shake a relaxation through his body, but hesitated before lowering his shoulders. Izzy wondered whether it was some kind of signal or not.

“Uh, Captain, you need something there?” Izzy asked shyly.

Edward’s mouth stole whatever reply Stede seemed to have no mind to attempt to formulate. They kept kissing there. It was clear their love was just as passionate as it had ever been. Izzy started to understand why these two had done the things they had done to themselves for one another. He wondered if he should start applauding their milestones and loosen up around the ship. He started to get the sense that the tickling scene was over, even if he figured he failed to make his larger point.

“Guess I’ll leave you lovebirds to it, then. I’m not ready to get that involved with a couple of pervert freaks that outrank me.” Izzy paused, trying to find more words. “Well, the captain and his kitten,” he clarified. “You’re cute with that bell, Edward,” he said under his breath, rolling his eyes a bit. With that, he started to walk away, back to his usual place. He traversed some stairs and a couple of corners. He was almost there.

Turning another corner, Izzy felt he was finally far enough away. He stopped for a moment to listen for nearby speech or footsteps. He sat and faced the ocean by himself, solitary in the position where Edward found him earlier in the day. And he let his guard down. Nobody had to know the effect his little torture scene had on him, and so he decided to let it show just a bit. The experience he just created for himself, it wasn’t another laceration of blackness across his wizened heart. It was pure and fun and joyful and a little arousing. 

He took a deep breath in through his nose, and he let it out through a big smile. A picture of Edward straddling Stede formed in his head. He rotated the picture before turning on time, inserting himself in the fantasy image and joining Edward, adding two more hands to the fray. In his mind, he smiled at Edward and Stede there. In reality, he sat there smiling at the ocean. The sun was sinking, and his heart was calm.

[astoldbyacertifiedunicorn]

Japril Appreciation Week: Day 5 ⇒ AU or a scene you wish happened

slightly m rated? 

"Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." She paused, smiling graciously towards her class, "Does anyone want to tell me where that's from?" 

 It was her first official class and she was more than enthusiastic to start the classes this year. Classic literature; the subject that had enamored her since the first time she had studied it. Being the nerdy bookworm that she was a child, her nose in a book at every waking moment, literature had been her reprieve. Books took her away from her reality. In books, she had friends and she could be anyone she wanted to be. Plus, a subject where one had to read poetry and novels and short stories for school work? Yes please. It's what she did on a daily basis anyway. Her love for it had only grown and had eventually pushed her to pursue it academically, and after that professionally. 

 She was a published author of 2 bestselling free verse poetry books and had the absolute pleasure of lecturing at Columbia University as a senior lecturer of the literature department. She loved her work. She loved educating young children, see the spark in their eyes as they discover poets they relate to, novels that they can't put down and pieces of work that makes them lose hope in humanity and simultaneously gain it. John Keating had been right. The things beyond literature were all noble pursuits, necessary for sustenance, but literature was love, it was friendship, it was life. It was impertinent. 

 She pointed to a very pretty brunette in the front row, who was waving her hand enthusiastically, reminding her of herself.

 "Dead Poet's Society. It's the movie that convinced me to take this course." She replied, smiling widely. 

 "That's wonderful, Miss ..."

 "Hinks. Lora Hinks." 

 She smiled at the girl and continued on, "Everyone one of you had a book, movie, piece of poetry or even person that inspired you to consider this course. For me it was, as clichè as this may sound, Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet to be precise. You see-" 

 She went on to explain her reasoning, reiterating the perfectly prepared speech she delivers in every first class, when she heard a small cough sound from behind her. She outwardly rolled her eyes, knowing exactly whom it was that had interrupted her. 

 "Professor Avery. What can I do for you?" She asked, false niceness oozing from her voice. 

"Professor Kepner, I am here to observe your class. Were you not made aware of my being here?" He replies, stepping into the classroom, earning a few rounds of gasps from students who had clearly being waiting for an opportunity to see their devastatingly handsome Dean once more. 

 April, having gotten used to people's reactions towards her colleague, rolled her eyes once more. 

 "No, actually, I wasn't made aware. So if you don't mind-" 

 "Oh well, must have slipped my mind." He says, his careless tone accompanied by a cold smile. 

 She could sense the students starting to understand that there was a hostile tension between the two, some cocking their eyebrows in confusion, unable to understand why their beautiful Dean had to be a jerk to the most loved member of the faculty. Professor Kepner's kindness was as popular knowledge as their Dean's cold, disengaged attitude. The latter seemingly more obvious with the way he was treating her. 

 "I'm sure it did." She muttered, although loud enough for everyone to hear. 

 "Well, Professor Kepner, carry on." He waved a hand, walking up the steps of the lecture halls and taking a seat in an empty row.

 "Um, yes, where was I? Okay, let's see ..." She was clearly flustered, her annoyance at his actions painstakingly clear. 

 "You were telling us how Shakespeare inspired you." Lora whispered.

 "Oh yes, thank you. Anyway-"

 "Quite forgetful, aren't we Professor?" 

 "No I am not. I am merely-"

 "Distracted? From the moment I walked in. Hm, I wonder why-"

 "There's no need to wonder, Professor. I was ... distracted, for a lack of a better word, because barging into a classroom unannounced is highly unprofessional. But I wonder why you forgot to inform me of your presence today. Old age, perhaps?" She remarked, smiling innocently at him. 

 She heard a few concealed snickers from the crowd although some students were too gob smacked, clearly wondering if she was insane enough to risk her career by back talking the Dean. 

 He wasn't by any means old. He was actually only 5 years her senior. However, his family having made considerable donations to the university overtime had ensured that by the time the old Dean had retired, he would be hired for the job, although he lacked the experience. She knew, whatever said and done, he hadn't wanted the job out of nepotism. She knew hating him for that reason was unwarranted. 

 "Continue." He merely said, and she grinned knowing she had won this one.

 "I actually hated Romeo and Juliet. It's true. I thought, God how stupid could they be? Dying for someone you knew all of 3 days? Falling in love to that capacity when you were 14? 16? No. So I came to the conclusion that Shakespeare was overrated." She stated, seeing a collective surprise for such a bold statement, even from the one person she was trying very hard to ignore. 

 "Until I realised, what if... what if Romeo and Juliet was actually a satirical commentary on lust filled teenage relationships? Not a love story at all, but a story about how insipid young love truly is. The possibility opened my mind to the realization that literature is yours to discover. You adapt it to fit your mold and I loved that." 

 She finished, looking on to see her student's allowing that interpretation to sink in. She loved it when she reached through to them. 

 "A bit of a cynic, aren't we?" Jackson asked, scoffing at her analysis.

 "I'm sorry, I almost forgot you were there for a minute," she replied, "and no, I am not a cynic. I more or so believe that Shakespeare is capable of portraying love better, take his-"

 "Sonnet 124? Let me not to the marriage?"

 She doesn't know why she's surprised. His brilliance wasn't a point of contention, it was even part of his charm. 

 "Yes, but-"

 "And you're saying teenagers can't feel that way, because?" He questioned, eyebrow raised and a cocky grin to boot. 

 "Because," she stammered, angry at herself for letting him rile her up, "Teenage relationships are transcendent. They are not made to last. They are lustful, driven strongly by hormones and rom-com expectations of romance." 

 "Well, aren't we bitter?" He says, eyebrows raised, standing up from his chair.

 "I'm not-I'm not bitter, I'm just being ... realistic." She feels the heat rise to her cheeks, mostly because she hates admitting to herself that he may be partially right. 

 "Hm, but you are. Let me guess, failed high school romance or ... boys scared you too much, Miss Kepner?" He teases, and she knows he's not being malicious because she knows he's addressing her virgin status she had kept until she'd met him, because there was no way he knew about her high school days. Maybe he does, she thought, maybe it was just that obvious to anyone. She just hadn't ever expected him to be one of them.

 So she strikes back, best way she knows how, even though she knows right now she's going to regret the moment she does.

 "Well you would know quite a lot about dating a teenager wouldn't you, Professor?" 

 The dead silence in the room doesn't help. She knows some of them had heard the rumours, and she can see their eyes widening at the boldness of her accusation and the curiousness of those who were unaware. 

 She doesn't let herself look at him, because she knows she screwed up, but then decides that she needs to know the extent of his anger to fully deduce the damage she's done.

 She can see a mixture of emotions in his perfect face. Suprise, anger, hurt and the worst of all, betrayal. She wants to run her fingers over his forehead and smooth the frown he's sporting although his eyes have changed colour like they also do depending on his mood. They're an angry black now and she knows she shouldn't have expected any less. 

 "I will see you at the meeting this evening, Professor." He finally says, exiting the room without a momentary glance her way. 

 She wants to run after him, aplogise furiously for what she said, let him know she only suspects the truth of that statement in her most insecure moments but quickly dispels it because she knows he's too good for it to be true. But she can't, she has a class awaiting her to continue to the lecture, maybe even comment on the situation and she's not ready to face him. She's hurt too.

 They only pretended to be snarky, so that no one would even suspect their alliance, which was formed one night, a couple of months back, when she had been in his office, late, surrounded by mountains of papers. It had been building up since she’d first met him at his welcome dinner. The sum of the looks shared and intense gazes held for too long was her skirt on the floor and the warmth of a fireplace next to her exposed skin.

 It was supposed to be easy, fun, nothing too overwhelming. Yet here she was, scared because she's found herself doing the one thing she said she wouldn't when she started sleeping with the Dean; fall for him and fall for him hard. 

She's pretty sure the approval for the arts department in her budget isn't an 'I forgive you.' She's not really sure what it is. Maybe it really doesn't have anything to do with her. Although, she knows that's not true. She knows he loves her enthusiasm for her subject and when it comes to approving the funds she rarely asks for, he's always been willing. Even before all of... this. Maybe it's a guilt trip. If it is, then mission accomplished. 

 "Hi, Izzie. Is Professor Avery free? I need to run some papers by him." She smiles warmly at his gorgeous secretary, who sits right outside her office in her beautiful pencil skirt and pink blouse that never creases. She's always been a slight insecure when it comes to her, but Izzie has always been warm, kind and loving. And if she'd ever thought about why her of all people would make such constant visits to the Dean she supposedly hated, she didn't let it show. 

 "Um, you know what, let me check." She smiles back, but April can tell she's not as willing to help her out as she usually is. Jackson is a good friend of hers, beyond the fact that they're colleagues. And he's her husband Alex's best friend. She'd understand her picking her loyalties. 

 She gets up and walks off, and April digs her heels into the carpeted floor, and runs her hands across the wooden desk. She feels the guilt coming back up again, and she pushes it down. She crossed a line, she knew that. But, she's hoping he forgives her, because she's really starting to need him to. 

 After what seems like a good 20 minutes or so, right before April decides that maybe it's all over, and she screwed everything up like she always does, Izzie's head pops out of the door. 

 "You can come in." She says, and holds the door open for her. 

 April walks into the room, familiar and warm, with the fireplace and the large mahogany desk she's very accustomed to, and the leather couch she's even more accustomed to. She glances at him and her heart races. He's sat at the desk, but he's not looking up from his paperwork. 

 "Thanks Izzie, you can go home. Tell Alex I'll drop by later." He says, still concentrating heavily on his work. 

 "Sure thing. Good night, boss," Izzie replies and turns towards her, "Professor Kepner." 

 April whispers a quick goodnight, and almost wants Izzie to turn back and stay here, but she walks out the door and closes it behind her. 

 She takes a deep breath and turns towards him. 

 "Leave the papers on my desk." He says, his usual kindness lost to a clipped tone. 

 "Um, okay." She walks towards him, hands in the 2 papers she brought with her as an excuse. She could've very well just ask her TA to hand them in. 

 She walks up to his desk, and she notices how he shoots her a quick look, but stares back down. She sighs, realizing this is probably how he's going to be for the rest of the night. Maybe she should've waited. 

 She opens her mouth to say her carefully planned apology, when he looks up at her all of a sudden. She's naked under his gaze, and this time he's not looking at her in desire. He's angry, and a little sad. 

 "Is that all?" 

 "Uh-"

 "Okay then, goodnight Professor Kepner." 

 He glances away from her as quickly as he looks at her, and she's back to awkwardly standing in front of his desk. She bows her head down, and turns away. There's no point to it now. 

 She walks back a few steps, and suddenly turns to him. She won't leave without at least an explanation. If she'd screwed it up, he needs to know why. 

 "Duckie." 

 He looks up at her, confused, wondering if she'd said anything at all. He raises a brow and April realizes that she just said one word and he probably thinks she's crazy.

 "That-that's what they called me. In high school. Duckie." She avoids his gaze, looking down at her hands, but she can tell he's listening. 

 So she continues, "It's for.... it's for ugly duckling. I had braces, and acne and I had no idea how to condition my hair for the longest time. I was.... duckie. So no, boys didn't like me. They didn't even look at me. I actually preferred that, really. Because when they did look at me, it was to let me know how unattractive they thought I was. Kids can be mean."

 She shrugs, "I am- was... duckie. It's not easy growing up like that. That's why I said what I said. I was just... hurt. And I lashed out. And I hurt you. I am so sorry." 

 She can't help that there's a few tears, and she quickly wipes them off, hoping he doesn't notice. She carried the darkness into her adulthood. She carried all that ugliness they put into her, even though now she might be deemed beautiful by their stupid, shallow standards. April didn't care anymore, but she still carried Duckie in her back pocket. 

 She finally lets herself look up, and she sees his face. His eyes narrowed, he looks like he's ready to attack someone. His forehead is creased into worry lines, and if she thinks his eyes were dark before, now she could see a storm brewing inside. 

 "I'll go then." She says, finally, noticing how he doesn't say anything in return. She did her best, after all. 

 "April." 

 His voice, stops her from walking any further. She pauses, wonders for a second if she made it up in his head, and takes a chance. She turns around and tentatively looks at him. 

 His eyes are much softer, the blue hue he gets when he's sad. 

 "Lock the door." He commands, and a part of her doesn't want to get too happy about this. What if he just wants privacy before he breaks up with her? 

 She walks towards the door, placing her hands on the knob and pushes the lock in. She takes a deep breath and wonders what to do next. 

 "Come here?" He asks this time, rather than commands and it makes her want to sprint towards him. 

 She nods her head, and takes small steps towards him. She steps around his desk and stands in front of his chair, watching him swivel around and face her. He stands up then. 

 His hands fall to hers, and he takes them in his. He brings them to his lips, and he softly kisses her knuckles. 

 "I'm sorry they did that to you." His voice is soft, and she can't help some of the tears that fall down her cheek. 

 She shrugs her shoulders and feels his thumbs swipe across her cheeks, wiping away her stray tears. She doesn't mean to cry about this. Especially not in front of him. And yet, it's him who tends to make her the most vulnerable. 

 "It's alright." She mumbles.

 "It's not, really." 

 He pulls her in then, and wraps his arms around her body, and she's a little surprised but eventually she sets her head on chest and wraps herself neatly around him. Like puzzle pieces, she thinks. 

 "April, you're-" He begins, but she cuts him off, placing a finger across his mouth, and lingering it there for just a second after he'd shut up. 

 "Not now." She tells him, "After." 

 He grins, and she realizes that he meant something very different to what she did. 

 She blushes, but looks up at him, her face determined, no longer shying away, "I'm sorry." 

 "It's okay," He says, nodding to confirm his words, "But I didn't... I would never-" 

 "I know that! Of course I know that! I was just... speaking out of my ass." She sighs, and then blushes because she's not even crude enough to say the word 'ass'. 

 "Well, it's a very cute ass, so you're forgiven." He teases, and she swats him, the blush deepening. 

 "I didn't care that you said it," He continues, pulling her against him, dropping his hands to her waist, "I cared that you thought I was that kind of a guy." 

 "I know you're not," She tells him, as he hooks his thumbs on the belt loops on her skirt, "You're...." 

 "What?" He whispers, as he leans his head down, placing a soft kiss on her earlobe.

 She gasps, momentarily losing her train of thought, "You're... a really good person." 

 "Yeah?" His voice is low against her ear and his hands drop to the edges of her skirt, scrunching up the material around his fists.

 "Yeah." 

 "I'm glad you think so." He says, turning her around. 

 She reaches her arms out to hold the sharp edge of the mahogany, the wood rough under her skin. He pulls her behind to meet his front, and she moans in preparation of what is to come. 

 "We need to tell people," She manages to squeeze out, even though his hands are moving across her lower body, angling her just the way he wants her. 

 "You know what they'll say right?" He asks her, and she nods. She's very well aware of the consequences of going public with him. It's the reason she's pushed it off for so long. 

 "I know, but... I don't care anymore." She breathes, as his hands roughly pull her up against him, her back colliding with his chest. 

 "The rumours will only get worse," He whispers, his breath tickling the back of her neck, as she pushes back into him. 

 "Let them. I don't want to pretend to hate you anymore, because I don't. Quite the opposite, actually."

 She can almost feel his grin. He loves it when she doesn't give a crap, when she's confident in them, when she's confident, period. 

 "I agree." He bends her fully over the desk, and she slides her hands forward, papers falling off into heaps of messes on the floor. She's usually neurotic, but she can never bring herself to care in these moments.

 "You know, Professor Kepner, I read poetry in my free time." 

 She hears the zip of his pants being pulled down, and a slight shuffling of material as they a soft thump follows with his pants hitting the carpet. 

 "Really?"

 She pretends not to have read his collections, in bed, at his place, after they've made love. 

 "She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies." 

 She chuckles breathlessly, unable to process the fact that he was murmuring Byron in her ears, while pulling down her panties. 

 "Jackson." She calls out for him, breath hitched, and teeth gritting against one another as he slips into her. 

 "Should I go on?" 

 "Please." 

THANK YOU FOR READING!