#was supposed to talk w one of my teachers about my first drafts

[fleeblesim]

Writing documentary scripts is hard, but it's especially hard when it's something u don't want to make, but also u do, but u don't bc it would involve putting urself in front of the camera and talking about ur fears and feelings, but it could be meaninful and a bit ironic, and also people are going to watch it and critique it, and worst of all they'll see it before it's even finished too like that's when it's at it's most vulnerable, and ur going to have to be in the same room when it happens, and u have to talk about it, but that's how u make it better, and also 2 of the people looking at it have more experience than u and know more bc they're literally ur teachers, but it could be nice if I could just put myself out there except it's so humiliating for no good reason at all

[plmp0]

The Nerd

Summary: Jake moved to your school because of his parents work, and you couldn't help but think how a nerd like him would fuck so u made that ur challenge.

Warnings: Nerd!Jake, kinda mean Jake, kinda switch Jake, pervet!reader, kinda uncomfortable, reader is so pushy (whatever that means), public touching, manipulative!reader, hair pulling, spanking, rough!fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (please protect), squirting, fingering, i think that's it.

A/N: Again this was an old draft so sorry if the quality is not the best,i tried to edit some stuff but it's 3 am right now so idk what i was doing 💀, also there might be some typos sorry for that. And finally just note that english is not my first language but yeah enjoy ~~ (also i just realised how long this is)

Jake has been always the top of his class, most of his time is around his books, not having a single friend because for him that means wasting time. So it was quite surprising when his parents decided to move to a new house, and in the middle of the school semester, no less. He didn't like that at all.But when he arrived in his new home, Jake didn't feel so bad anymore. It was a really big house, almost as big as his old school, and with the biggest library he'd ever seen, even bigger than the town's. Not having to worry about leaving his friends was also one of the things that didn't let him have ones, they have to move a lot because of his dad's work so things weren't adding up anyways.

It was Jake's first day in this new school, spending the whole night studying to catch up to their pace and also to maintain his top student image, he went to the asigned classroom. As he expected, no one knew who he was, everyone looked at him weirdly and a boy with glasses even whispered to the person next to him that he "looked like a nerd".He sat down and waited for the class to start, the teacher arrived a few minutes later and greeted the students before calling the attention to the new student. "Everyone, please, give a warm welcome to our new student, Jake. Now, I don't want anyone disturbing his studies, if you do I will make sure the principal knows." the teacher said, giving a stern look at some boys in the back, one of them was the same one who had made fun of Jake's appearance.The boys in the back, as if sensing their teacher's glare, tried to look as innocent as possible. Some of the other kids were talking about the new student while the rest were too focused on their phones or books. Jake nontheless ignored and filtered any meaningless noise, focusing on the class instead. "Alright, now, open your books on page 249. Y/n, you can read until page 270, then we will move on to the next chapter." The teacher said, making Jake shift his attention to you.

You nodded, but Jake was sure you hadn't heard the teacher, as your eyes were glued to the phone, scrolling through something. You didn't even try to look like you were reading, and when the teacher noticed this she went over and took the phone away from you, Jake shaked his head unimpressed not liking that you made him waste a full 10 minutes. You tried to convince her to give it back, but the teacher, Mrs. Smith, didn't relent and kept it until the end of class. Jake tried to focus again on the class, but his mind was somewhere else, you not shutting up talking loud enough as if u were sitting next to him, he huffed turning around to face you and giving you a cold glare, making you stop and shiver, not saying anything else but finding interest on him, you've always liked nerds. He sighed, relieved, and continued to pay attention to the class, writing down everything he was supposed to and more. Once class ended, everyone left except you, Jake and Mrs. Smith, who wanted to speak to him about some important things, as well as talk to him about his grades and how he would fit into the class. You stood up and stretched, yawning before heading towards the teacher to get ur phone back, not caring much for what the two were discussing, "Oh, Mrs. Smith, do you happen to have my phone? You took it earlier and I just want to go to my next class." You said, trying to sound as polite as possible to avoid getting scolded, you didn't care that much but the principal had told you to behave.

"Oh, yes. Here you go. But next time please try not to use it during class, or else I'll have to take it away again, alright?" She handed you the phone, you quickly nodded and thanked her, turning on the phone and walking away rolling your eyes. "Oh, and before I forget, here are the things that are new to the semester. Jake, I'm sure you'll do great." She handed him a folder full of papers, which he took, thanked her and left. He went over the papers as he walked, not paying much attention to where he was going, but making sure to read every line, his eyes were so focused on the paper that he didn't even notice you. "Hey, watch out." But you didn't, instead, the two of you bumped into each other, dropping the papers and Jake huffed losing the spot he was reading. You fell, not being able to catch yourself because your hands were holding the phone, you scoffed annoyed. "What the fuck, watch where you're going." "Says the one who didn't watch their step, dumbass." Jake mumbled, picking the papers. "What was that?" You asked, not quite hearing him, and not happy about being called a dumbass.

Jake turned to face you, giving you a stern look while collecting his papers not wanting to drag this convo any longer. You were about to argue back when you noticed the papers he was collecting, and how much there was. You got curious, how could this nerd get so much extra credit on the first day? "Hey, let me see." You took the papers away from him, skimming through them. "Are you serious?" U exclaimed,"Hey, give it back. And watch your tone, it's very rude." Jake glared at you. "Why should I?" You smirked. "What are you gonna do about it? Tell on me? Go ahead." You said mockingly, Jake massaged his forehead annoyed and grabbed the papers, pulling them from you, making you stumble and drop the phone again, "Hey!" You yelled, looking at your phone. "Do you have any idea how expensive that was?!" "Then be more careful with it, maybe then it won't fall" Jake shrugged, fixing the papers and putting them in his backpack, you rolled your eyes and picked up your phone checking it and you huffed relieved seeing that it didn't break. U bit ur lips this new student is really getting into ur nerves, but you had a better way to deal with him. "Whatever, loser." You turned around and left, not wanting to get in trouble on the first day.

Jake chuckled a little bit as u left, "what a great first day" he mumbled with sarcasm in his tone, heading to his next class but he stopped mid-way, he was so focused on what had happened that he didn't realize how lost he was, not having any idea of where he had to go and now his late for class, great. He spent a long time looking for class that now he has arrived late, sighing relieved when he finds the door open and walks in. "Sorry for arriving late, sir. I'm the new student, Jake." "Don't worry about it. Go ahead and take a seat. You're in the back." the teacher said, and Jake nodded, walking towards the back and sitting down trying to ignore the fact that u were his seatmate as you were already sleeping or that's what he thought, the teacher didn't even stop to breath in the passing 30 minutes making everyone yawn well everyone appart from Jake, he was busy writing when he let a very loud gasp making everyone look at him questionably, he excused himself feeling embarrassed as he felt your hand  wondering in his thighs above his jeans, his mind was racing and he wasn't able to focus at all, he looked at you and noticed the smirk on your lips as u rested ur head on the table,

oh that was not good. The teacher didn't say anything and continued the lesson, but Jake couldn't focus anymore. He couldn't believe this, he never let anything shift his attention before neither was he touched this way by a girl in a fucking classroom. He shifted on his chair, trying to move away from you, but that only caused your hand to travel higher, making his face flush and you grin liking the reaction u got from him, ur grin got bigger when u felt his bulge on ur hand. Jake felt a chill go down his spine, he was not enjoying this at all, why would he? This was just distracting, and he wanted to stay focused that's what he tried to convince himself but the fact that he stopped getting away from you made you continue ur movements, you caressed his thigh through the fabric, and then moved on to his bulge, squeezing it gently and rubbing him.

He gasped and tensed up, closing his eyes and trying not to move. He bit his lips as the sensation was getting stronger, and soon his cock was rock hard, throbbing under your touch, Jake was so new to this feeling he was going crazy, you smirked as u felt his member twitch, you looked at him and could see the embarrassment in his face, u leaned on him and whispered quietly "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Naughty boy." you teased, licking his ear. Jake bit his lips and moved his head, trying to get away from you, he was so scared that someone is gonna see the both of u, and seconds later the entire class was staring at him wondering what's wrong when he hitted his knee on the table while trying to squirm. He didn't know what to do, this was kinda embarrassing but it feels so good, and he didn't want it to stop, he opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, but when he felt your hand squeeze him, he gasped and couldn't hold back a moan, causing him to cover his mouth. He was redder than a tomato, and he couldn't look at the teacher or the other students afraid to get caught, you continued, enjoying his reactions, and the fact that everyone was focused on their things. It was obvious that Jake wasn't getting away, and that was fine with you. He was hard and throbbing, and his precum had leaked, creating a small dark stain on his jeans. Jake bit his lip and tried to muffle his moans, but you didn't want him to almost punishing him for what he did previously, you squeezed him again, rubbing his length. "You're so hard, Jake. I didn't think you would like this. You're so naughty~" you whispered.

Jake whined and closed his eyes, shaking his head, not wanting to admit that neither to hear it now it was hard enough from his to muffle his sounds, but it was true, he did like this. And the fact that he was hard as a rock proved it if only he didn't have to be in a space full of people he'd acted differently. He was getting close you could feel it as he was breathing heavily  his eyes were tightly shut, his hips were moving with your hand and you thanked god that u were sitting at the end of the class or the teacher would have seen everything, you sped up your movements and that's when Jake lost it, his body tensed up and his hips buckled, he groaned as quietly as he could before releasing his load on his jeans, making a small wet spot. You grinned, stopping your movements and moving away from him. Jake opened his eyes and looked at his pants, noticing the stain, and realizing what just happened, he looked around, seeing everyone staring at him, the teacher was waiting for him to answer a question, and the rest were looking at his flushed form face confused. He gulped and cleared his throat, looking at the teacher, not knowing what the question was.

"Are you okay, Jake? Are you feeling sick?" The teacher asked. "N-no... Sorry, I'm okay..." Jake said. "I would like to believe you, but, I'll let it pass since it's your first day. U should focus or u wont catch up, understood?" , "Yes, sir..." Jake nodded. "Good. Now, can anyone tell me the answer to the question?" The teacher looked around, waiting for someone to answer. "Uh... Y/n." The teacher looked at you. "Yes, sir. 54." You said, knowing the answer and not caring enough about this class. "Correct. Thank you, Y/n. Now, let's move on." The teacher turned around and started writing on the board. Jake felt relieved that he got out of this situation without getting caught, but now he had to deal with the mess you made, his jeans were ruined and he turned to look at you, seeing the mischievous smile on your face. He knew you weren't gonna leave him alone. He sighed and looked away, trying not to think about it and focus on class. But he couldn't. For the rest of the class, Jake couldn't focus, and his thoughts kept going back to you, and what had happened. His cheeks were pink, and his dick was still hard, the cum stain on his jeans didn't go away, and every time he moved, he felt it rub against him.

Once the class ended, Jake gathered his things and left as fast as he could, not wanting to see anyone, or get more attention. He rushed out of the classroom and walked quickly, heading towards the bathroom. He needed to change and get out of this, it was too much for him, he got to the bathroom taking care of the mess and removing his jacket tacking it around his waist while getting his dresshirt out of his pants hoping that i'll hide something before getting out of the bathroom, he sighed trying to calm down as he felt a hand on his shoulder "Hey, nerd. Wait." It was you, smirking. Jake turned around, facing you, his face still a little flushed from earlier and his body tensed upon seeing you, "Y-yes?" Jake asked his words getting out more broken than he anticipated,

he cleared his throat waiting for you to speak, u scanned him the grin never leaving ur lips " looks like you took care of yourself already" u whined disapointed "too bad i wanted to help you" "Wdym?" he cleared his throat again fixing his hair as he felt some sweat forming at the end of his forehead "no need to do that" he mumbled looking at you giving him your puppy eyes, he shifted his eyes to look elsewhere just wanting to go home at this rate feeling tired already but there was no way u'd give up, you really wanted him to lose it so curious to see what he'd do. "But, Jake... You looked so cute when you were enjoying yourself..." You purred, putting a hand on his chest. "I wanted to make you feel good..." he furrowed his eyebrows not loving how you are adressing him "s-stop" his voice was breaking, he didn't know what was going on but he didn't like this. "Aww, come on, Jake... Just admit it... You liked it... And I'm sure you would love it if I continued..." You smiled, and moved your hand down, resting it on his lower stomach. "Stop, we are still in school!" He exclaimed, his voice slightly louder. "Oh, come on, Jake... There's no one here..." You grinned, pressing your palm against his crotch. Jake bit his lips, holding back a moan and his eyes widened when he felt your hand press against him.

His pants were too tight, and he was already half hard. You didn't know how or when but you felt ur back pressed on the wall Jake leaning to face you as his lips were inches away from your ear "I get that you want to be fucked soo badly but i have things to do" Jake whispered you moaned feeling him suck on your earlobe before he left leaving you hot and confused, a smirk formed at your lips licking them "ahhh m gonna have so much fun" u mumbled adjusting ur clothes and heading to meet one of your friends from the other class. After the incident with you, Jake avoided you as much as he could. But that didn't stop you from teasing him, and he always had an excuse not to interact with you, or anyone else, really. He focused on his studies more than the normal days trying to distract himself from you, he was starting to get really frasturated by all of your teasing. You on the other hand were getting annoyed, you had tried so many times to get close to him, or just talk to him, but he always had an excuse to brush you off, and he always seemed so busy. You knew he was trying to avoid you, and you were determined to make him give in taking it as a challenge at that point.

One day, during class, the teacher decided to choose randomly two people for next week's project and to ur luck Jake was paired up with you for the presentation and you couldn't be happier. He wasn't too happy about it that's what you noticed but he had no choice, and the teacher said the two of you would have to meet outside of class. That's when the fun began. Jake was sure that he was screwed. You had him trapped.You were gonna make him lose his control, and there was no way out of it. It was the day you r supposed to meet up for your project, Jake suggested going to a cafe nearby the school but you being your stubborn self insisted to meet up in ur house saying that it'd be better and calmer and blah blah blah, Jake couldn't help it but agree after his failed attempts. He was standing in front of your door inhaling deeply before knocking a few times, you were quick to open the door smiling at him and welcoming him in.

He was surprised when he saw ur outfit, your small shorts not leaving anything for imagination, ur blue crop top hugging ur breasts perfectly, he clicked his tongue rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly when you told him to sit in the living room and you went to get some water, coming back quickly and sitting next to him body stuck to his with the glass in ur hands. "So" Jake started wanting to start with the project and leave quickly "we should start, what's the theme?" He asked looking through his backpack and taking out a notebook and a pencil, u rolled ur eyes at his words "come on, Jakey, you know we don't have to do this right now." u said handing him the glass of water which he accepted "it's not healthy for you to be always studying, let's take a break." "We need to get this done, Y/n." He said sternly, sipping the water. "We can't waste time. So, what's the theme?" "The theme is... The importance of a good education." You smiled, remembering the topic that you picked out. "Seriously?" Jake said mockingly knowing very well how u r always sleeping during classes or just on your phone. "Yeah, seriously." You smiled, taking the glass from his hands and setting it on the table. "Don't worry. I'm not stupid." "I know." He said, and before you could say anything else, he pulled out his phone. "Let's start, shall we?"

"Sure, Jake." You smiled, and started explaining your ideas for the project, and the two of you started working. Jake didn't like that you kept distracting him flashing ur cleavage every now and then but he couldn't say anything cause you were being very professional. He didn't think it was possible, but you were doing a really good job. Maybe this wasn't so bad. You noticed his reaction and you couldn't help but smirk a little, you knew he was gonna lose it and soon. The two of you worked for a couple hours, and by the time it was over, Jake was exhausted. He was glad you were smart enough to not screw this up, but he was still suspicious. You had been nothing but nice the whole time, and it was a bit out of ordinary.You stretched and smiled. "That was a good session, huh?" "Yeah. I'm glad we were able to get some work done." Jake said, packing his stuff. "Yeah. Me too." You smiled, and stood up. "I'm gonna get some snacks, I'll be right back." Jake nodded and waited for you. You came back a few minutes later, carrying a tray of fruit, cookies, and drinks. You set the tray on the coffee table and sat next to him, Jake had some cookies eyes not leaving his phone for a couple of minutes before speaking "Alright, I think we should stop here." , "Oh, why?" You asked, tilting your head. "Because we're finished." Jake said, closing his notebook. "We're not done yet." You pouted. "I wanna hang out a bit." "Hang out? With me?" Jake asked raising one of his eyebrows, "Why not?" You shrugged. "Well, we have nothing in common." Jake said, standing up. "Besides, I have a lot of work to do. And so do you." "Aw, come on, Jakey." You pouted, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him down onto the couch. "We have plenty of time." "No, we don't." Jake said removing ur hands from his body, but you were faster as u landed one of them on his crotch making him gasp loudly.

"W-what are you doing?", "What's wrong, Jake? It's just a hand." You smiled, squeezing his crotch. Jake exhaled his eyes fierceful as he looked u down tongue clicking, one of his hands sliding his hair up "you are really a slut ha" "Only for you, Jakey~" You purred, stroking his growing erection. Jake groaned and bit his lip. "Stop i don't think you'll be able to handle what's coming!" Jake warned, his tone more stern. "I'll take my chances." You grinned, continuing rubbing him over his pants, Jake growled and grabbed your arm, pulling it away and pinning it to the couch. "You really don't get it, do you? This is the only chance you're gonna get." He growled, tightening his grip on your arm. You winced a little at the pain and bit your lip. "Sorry. I'll behave. Promise just give it to me" you said pouting a bit. "Woah" Jake chuckled lowly, "someone is being a needy slut today." He said having enough from restraining himself his frustration takkng over him, and you moaned loving his choice of words,"Please, Jake. Please. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want, anything please" You begged. "Anything? (He paused for a second) but again it's not a surprise after seeing how hard you tried to get to my dick" He hummed licking ur lips slowly. "Yes. Anything. Just fuck me." You begged, and Jake leaned down, kissing you roughly. You moaned, enjoying the kiss, and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued kissing you hungrily, his hands exploring your body.

He broke the kiss, and pulled back, staring at you, his eyes moved to your boobs who were almost exposed because of this position, the blue complementing your skin and making him lick his lips constantly, he has never really went with a girl above kissing and touching here and there however he watched enough content to know what to do, his hand groped one of ur breast squeezing it roughly his nails digging on the fabric as u moaned loudly. "You're so beautiful, Y/n." Jake whispered, his soft tone contradicting his rough touches, "T-thank you." You said, blushing a little , he smiled seeing how calm you are now that you are getting what u want, he pulled the strap of ur crop top down exposing your breast the sight making him gulp as he massaged the other one he neglected earlier, his other hand moving down to cup your pussy through your shorts making you moan and squirm. He groaned as he felt your wetness through the fabric "Fuck, you're so wet, Y/n." Jake grinned, "Soaking." "J-Jake..." You moaned, arching your back, grinding against his hand. "Shh, isn't that what you wanted? So shut up and enjoy it"he smirked, leaning to deliver kisses on ur neck. He kept rubbing your pussy through ur shorts and you couldn't help but whine wanting to feel him against ur bare skin. He pulled his hand away and looked at you. "You want more, Y/n?" He asked, smirking. You nodded, your chest heaving and your eyes wide. "Then take them off." Jake said. "Your shorts." You gulped, and stood up, pushing your shorts down, and taking them off, tossing them aside.

Jake sat on the couch manspreading a bit and patting his lap, u followed his order and sat on his lap grinding your pussy against his hard member while he cupped ur ass, his hands running over the soft skin, he leaned down and placed his lips on your nipple sucking on it making u throw your head back moaning and grinding ur pussy harder against him. You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside and running your hands over his chest. Jake groaned and moved his hands down, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, you raised your hips, helping him as he pulled them down, tossing them away. His hand went back to cup your pussy, and he moaned feeling the wetness. "God, you're soaked." Jake groaned, running two of his fingers on ur slit, spreading the juices and making you moan loudly, Jake grinned as u were already a mess, and he has just started. "So fucking wet. Just for me." Jake hummed, his fingers playing with your clit, the pleasure making your body jerk. Jake felt his hands act on themselves, his index finger teasing ur entrance making u buckle ur hips, "I'm not gonna do anything if u don't behave, y/n" he growled,

his fingers going to rub your clit roughly, his eyes were focused on ur reaction and you didn't have to try to put up an act, your body was shaking eyes rolling back. You nodded and closed your eyes, biting your lip and trying to stay still, even though all you wanted was to grind your pussy on his fingers, he lifted his free hand spanking ur ass hard making u gasp, your body jerked a bit and Jake rubbed the spot he had spanked, "Good girl." He purred his finger went to tease ur hole once again. He slowly pushed his finger inside, his cock twitching at the feeling of your tight walls. He has only seen a pussy on videos and nothing could compare to the feeling of the real thing, he pushed his finger deeper and moved it in and out slowly, feeling you clench around him. He moved his finger a bit deeper, looking at ur expressions mouth gaped eyes long gone and he grinned. adding another digit and moving it at the same pace, he lifted u a little curling his finger inside you, hitting a sweet spot. "Feels good, huh?" Jake asked and you nodded, moaning loudly, and he spanked you again. "Words." He growled. You gasped, and let a small cry. "Y-yes! It feels so good, Jake!" Jake grinned, and kept moving his finger, hitting that same spot every time. Your body jerked and he noticed how close you were, "you were acting up just a few days ago and look at you now, where did that attitude go ha?" He chuckled when u didn't answer him his fingers reaching deeper making u spasm on his lap,

"Come on, cum for me. Let go." He groaned, his voice husky, and a few seconds later, your pussy clenched around his finger, and you let out a loud moan as you came, squirting all of your juices on his pants, Jake groaned feeling the warmness of ur juices land on his cock, ur body still shaking as he was still moving his fingers inside you, he pulled out groaning at ur attempt to keep him in by squeezing him tightly, his cock throbbing inside his pants as he licked his fingers clean tasting u making you squirm and he gave them to u, you licked them and moaned at the taste, his free hand moved down cupping ur ass before he spanked u again, you moaned loudly and looked at him, "You want me to fuck you, right?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly. "Please." You begged. "You've been such a good girl for me so far, so I'll give it to you." He kissed ur jaw talking over ur skin "but i'll have to punish you for what you did these passing days" he mumbled making u shiver a bit, his hand squeezed ur ass roughly. "Now get up, i'm gonna bend you over the table and fuck your slutty little pussy" he said patting ur core and you whined, but did as he told u, getting up and bending over the table, spreading your legs for him, he groaned at ur eagerness and quickly unbuttoned his pants pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock finally springing free, you looked behind you and bit your lip seeing his length, "wow, you're big." You mumbled. He smirked and leaned over, his body pressing against yours, his lips near your ear. "I'm gonna make sure to make you scream, and never think about going around whoring for nerds again" He whispered, making you whimper, his hands grabbed your ass, giving it a few squeezes, he rubbed his cock on your pussy, making you moan and squirm. "So impatient. Behave." He growled slapping ur inner thighs and steadying u in place

"Sorry" u mumbled trying to stop yourself, Jake smirked and rubbed the tip of his cock against ur clit, making you whine and bite your lip, you felt like you were gonna explode, the teasing was driving you crazy. His hips rolled and his tip poked ur entrance, you moaned and arched your back, trying to take his length inside, he spanked you again making you yelp and he held you down, "i'm the one in charge here, not you" he growled and you nodded, letting out a breathy moan, he pulled back and slapped his cock against your clit a couple times making u shake, the sensation driving u mad and before u could complain his length entered u, the tip slowly entering u and stretching your tight walls making you cry out, "fuck you're tight." Jake groaned, feeling the warmth and wetness of your pussy wrapped around him, the pleasure was almost unbearable, his hand went to massage your ass and squeeze it a few times, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, nails digging into the skin, his eyes were focused on where his cock met your pussy and how he disappeared inside of you. He pushed himself deeper and pulled out slowly, the drag of his length inside you was incredible, you moaned and gripped the edge of the table, your body trembling as he kept thrusting into you, his cock filling you completely. Jake's hand traveled up, his palm resting between your shoulder blades and applying pressure, making your cheek rest against the table. He pulled out and slammed back into you, his balls slapping against you and you let out a loud moan, the feeling was overwhelming.

You felt his fingers grab your hair, pulling you up and his lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, his tongue invading your mouth, the kiss was sloppy yet intense, his thrusts were getting faster, his tongue moving in and out of your mouth, tasting every inch of it. You broke the kiss and let a loud moan, feeling him brush at ur spot, his hand was gripping the hair at the back of your head, his nails digging into the skin and he was panting, his breath fanning your cheek, he closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of ur walls around him, Jake was scared that he'd become addicted to ur pussy the thought of getting out of you was already not clicking with him, his other hand grabbed your hip and he started slamming into you harder, his cock hitting that same spot again, making you scream in pleasure. He groaned, feeling his orgasm building up, his movements became sloppy and his hips stuttered "Fuck, look at u now, taking my cock so well" Jake said, his words coming out in a mix of moans and groans, he let out a low groan and threw his head back, his hips snapping into you a couple more times and he buried himself deep inside of you, cumming and filling your pussy, you moaned at the feeling of his cum filling you and painting your walls white, your legs trembled and you let out a loud moan as your body jerked, reaching your orgasm and squirting all over his cock, your walls tightening around him, milking him. "Fuck" Jake groaned, his hands leaving your hair and hips, his palms resting on the table as he leaned forward, panting heavily, his chest pressed against your back. He was sweating his skin hot. 

Jake's cock slipped out of you and he let a small groan. His eyes focused on your pussy and how your juices were mixed with his cum, and the sight alone made him hard again, he grabbed your legs and spread them, making you whine. His other hand stroked his cock and he guided his tip to your pussy, pushing his cock inside making you whine "J-Jake, what are you doing? I'm sensitive." You mumbled, your voice tired. "We're not done yet, baby. I need to teach you a lesson." Jake growled, his hands going to rest on your hips squeezing them, he started thrusting into you roughly, not giving you time to adjust and his hips snapped into you, his balls slapping against your clit, you were a mess, moaning and whimpering, begging for him to stop. Jake growled and bent down, his face next to yours. "I warned you before but u didn't listen. So shut up and take it." He growled, and his hand went to slap your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your body was trembling and the feeling of his cock pounding into you was amazing, it felt so good!

tbh u didn't imagine him to go this hard on you and ohh god how you love it, no one has ever fucked you this good. The sound of his skin slapping against yours and the lewd sounds of his cock entering you filled the room you were a mess, ur hair sticking on ur face, juices mixed with his cum dripping from your pussy messing up the table. Jake groaned, his breathing uneven and his hips stuttered. He was close again, and so were you. "Cum for me, Y/n." Jake groaned, his thrusts were getting faster, he was losing his rhythm eyes closed biting his lower lip until he couldn't hold it anymore, his hand reached ur clit rubbing it fastly making u whimper "OmG" u rolled ur eyes ur release hitting u like a truck and with a couple of hard thrusts he followed u, cumming inside of you, his cum mixing with the previous one, his hips kept rolling, riding out his high, the feeling was intense, his cock twitched and he pulled out, collapsing on the couch, panting heavily. "Holy shit." You mumbled, trying to catch your breath. Jake nodded, running a hand through his hair.

The two of you were quiet for a few minutes, then Jake got up, helping u getting up too and bringing u to the bathroom. "I'll clean the table." Jake said, leaving and coming back with some wet wipes, he cleaned the table looking at u wearing a robe while scanning his body "u okay?" He asked suddenly feeling nervous not knowing what to do now, u smiled and nodded, "yeah, thanks" u mumbled, he nodded back and looked away, he was wearing his boxers now looking at his pants that are full of ur juices, he sighed and grabbed them cleaning them with the wet wipes and getting dressed, u stared at him confused, "what are u doing?" You asked. "Leaving." Jake said, buttoning his shirt.

"It's getting l-late" his voice stuttered when he felt your hand helping him with his shirt, he heard his phone ringing and went to get it seeing his mom's name on the screen, "hi" his voice was low as he answered, and u could hear his mother's voice asking where is he,  he told her that he was busy with his homework and forgot to call, he was glad that his parents are never home so he wouldn't have to explain anything, he bid goodbye to his mom and hang up. "Is everything ok?" You asked, and Jake nodded. "I gotta go." Jake said, gathering his stuff. "I'll see you tomorrow." You said, and Jake nodded, giving you a small smile and leaving, making you finally drop on the floor as u couldn't feel ur legs anymore but u smiled nonetheless u had so much fun, and this will not be the last time for sure.

Woah i couldn't edit this whole thing so m gonna comeback to it after having some sleep, also this was supposed to be a virgin Jake fanfic but yeah i got carried away and forgot about that sorry

[zukkacore]

I want the director’s cut of. Honestly the entirety of if you want divinity. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to talk about. I need to just stare out a window for awhile. I feel like crying. Wow. Amazing story stunning stunning stunning.

HELLO FRIEND SCREAMS thank you so much you know how meaningful it is that people like. Like my writing and engage with it and you've been so sosososo incredibly sweet. Sorry yours took the longest, I was trying to think of something to say bc apparently there's a word limit on these things. Boo. I would totally do a total annotated doc otherwise bc im cringe but i went over like a LOT of the references stuff in Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 which honestly. Might be a lot of the process.

Imma see if I have any other notes off the top of my head:

THE POSTER: ok, so. The WEAKNESS IS PAIN LEAVING THE BODY poster. Obviously that's a bit of an ironic joke. That wasn't even really supposed to be there. I'm realizing i kept in the draft the fact that Jace makes the picture frames on Porter's desk rattle. And actually, during the implied Cassandra Divine Intervention scene where the poster falls, was originally supposed to be one of the pictures on the desk. I... couldn't justify it. I was like. idk whats weird n whats not to have as a framed picture on your desk if you're a teacher.

I'm like. Genuinely I think one of my biggest flaws as a writer is sensory detail, description, like maintaining characters geography w/in a space. King of white wall syndrome. At the bare minimum, I do think there's this kinda funny old vs. new feeling regarding Jace's belongings, his home, etc. Or like. I guess not kitsch but like something mass market vs. very old and traditional. Like the couch in my head like something small, ugly and modern, like very minimalist and kinda uncomfortable, and something a lot of people would own. But there's also the grandfather clock in the corner—to me that's also something that was passed down like the brooch. The brooch, moon n stars, obviously n heirloom—he's has like old roots in fallinel, his family is of Galicaean faith. But also The brooch is described in the same scene as the mug Porter keeps, and it's the most generic millenial like mass market slogan thing you've ever seen. There's this like. Presence of his family's influence even if he doesn't speak to them. But also a life that's. Kinda on autopilot.

I.... i always feel like I'm patting myself on the back abt this. I do really like the Detect magic + Teleport meld. I think it was clever. I'm telling myself that's ok to say. Mainly b/c it was a good solution to two problems. And a little bit b/c I think it's romantic to rip through space and time for someone. Again, I keep joking that he loved Porter to the point of invention (something i only feel self congratulatory about bc he did it in canon first).

Anyway. I was struggling SO HARD on what to do about these flashback scenes and i've said this before but like they were so close to being on the cutting room floor. I just felt like i couldn't justify them in something that was meant to be kinda... fun? Haha. "fun" IYWD. As if. The Detect thoughts i think helped with what to do about inserting those flashbacks, which i think helped resolve my problem of them feeling pointless b/c its like. It's not for our benefit, it's literally the memories weighing on Porter at like all times. They hang over everything.

The Teleport part was bc i was like. Ok. This is the biting maiming killing dropping during sex couple. If there's a question of "you can do anything you want to me", there HAS to be an escalation of stakes. But also this doesn't feel like a story that necessitates like. A lot of violence in their kinkplay I guess? When there's so much else going on, there's so much like about mourning and the violence already inflicted on Jace twofold that's actually a source of guilt for his horrible evil loser boyfriend porter. I already went through a LOT of contrivance just to get them into Porter's office (i think the fucking in porter's office jokes are fun, sue me), but I also was like. Ok. I think I need to go bigger by going smaller. If he changes the spell to rip through time, there's this like—doubling that makes it so on some level they're basically recreating their first time. Which i think makes the kinda silly vanilla (with little bit of mind reading lol) mundanity of that last part hopefully work

Fun Fact: the "I actually kinda miss you, aint that peculiar" "I'm right here" scene is the first one I wrote. It was basically the basis for everything. As it existed then, it was wayyyyy different tho. The tone was actually a lot more hostile. The patching up injuries thing actually came in way later and i was super embarrassed bc i was like that's so cliche but now i like it b/c i think there's such a Ratgrinders haunt the narrative thing about it. A Jace Cares and that's the thesis of Porter's grief thing about it.

The "there it is, the line" "you're so weird" into he never wants porter to stop saying mystifying things to him. Like. Completely changed the trajectory of what was going on almost by accident. Like. It literally wasn't until that moment that i was like. Oh. Oh. He wants porter to stay. B/c like

I see so much of the 1st half of the story as Jace like. Using Porter's want for him as a way to satisfy his own wants and needs. He wants pleasure after denying himself. But he also needs to live. I keep saying he's using sex as a tool b/c i really think he is—he wants to be so good porter can never live without him. And on level one, that's about making sure he's indispensible. Making sure he stays alive. But the second thing thats buried under there is more of a want—for Porter to stay with him. And that changed it from Jace actually fighting to have the upper hand and in some ways even getting Porter on the back foot to it being like. Actual desperation.

How many Jaces are in this story? Good question. Pre and post shatterstar for sure, but also we only see Pre in flashbacks so they're more like Porter's perception of pre. The clones are implied but do not make an appearance. And obviously after the first 5, the other jaces w/in 8 Jace thesis are more concepts in people's heads (and also one of them is 25). The Jace of Porter's memory is definitely there. The Jace Porter thought he would get after the shatterstar also haunts the scene. too. It's jaces all the way down.

Idk if it makes sense my logic behind this but. There's Porter complimenting Jace when he's really raw and vulnerable and messy and its like. Jace's response is that it's unfair. And b/c there's so much talk abt justice and unfair in FHJY i was like. Can. there be an instance in which something is unfair in a good way? Like. In that you're the one being treated unfairly at the expense of everyone else. Like. almost like. Sometimes you can be unfair in that you're easier on your friend than you might be on someone else. That's not fair, but like. That's human. Like if something is unfair you might be getting an advantage on something you didn't earn. But you don't have to earn love, but the fact that Jace didn't have to work for it, he feels like he's getting something too easily. It's unfair. In a good way.

I've said this before but I do think Porter is able to come to some sort of synthesis about Jace. And that he was maybe able to even conceive of the totality of him b/c of how the flashbacks are laid out. Like. in the first one he's unpalatable and angry and a disappointment to the memory of Jace that Porter imagined. In the second one he's sort of perfect, the scene too short and precious and romanticized to be muddied by real flaws in his mundanity and simplicity. And in the last one, Jace is mundane, flawed, overworked, overly familiar with his students, willing to play favorites, but also empathetic, good at making connections, ultimately well meaning and trying his best. Someone real, that's Porter's favorite. It's up to interpretation i think. esp bc like.

Counterpoint: I think you could also read that. Porter seems to love this Jace more the way a god loves their creation than the way a man loves another man. Like. yeah they're suckin n fuckin but also Porter being in to the fact that jace is "so trusting" is very. Helio always has a plan and i let him take the wheel, no? He's moved by Jace's devotion. Jace will take that tho. He'll take it all.

Final point: if brennan says that anything his PCs do can become fair game for him, then same for me. If Adaine n Aelwyn can use dimension door to go to her parents house / aelwyn's apartment despite the distance, that's fair game for me to misuse it < 3. (i just think if i'd allowed for the teleport it would've made way more sense to go to someone's house. And llike. that's no fun at all

I might rb with more thoughts later to be a menace. Thank you!

[danganronpa-abandoned-hope]

Danganronpa: Abandoned Hope Episode One Script

here's the script for the first episode, as promised! check under the readmore :3. Do remember that it's still a "rough draft", so there may still be some typos and unintentional grammar mistakes. please be constructive with any criticism.

Episode 1, February 13th

Mysterious voice: good morning, sir. We’re very appreciative that you’ve come to talk with us today. We understand that you likely have a very poor opinion of us, but rest assured we have no intention of harming you or your friends. W- No, won’t hurt the young lady here either. We just need your account of the events that took place. Yes we’ll be interviewing her too, so your honesty is of the utmost importance. The sources we have are flawed, some clarity is all we ask. You can provide this, can’t you?

????:: …. I… suppose ….

Mysterious voice: splendid! Could you introduce yourself before giving your account? for the record of course.

????: …. My name is Adaleus Valker. I attended the academy under the talent of “ultimate waltzer”. My talent encompassed everything from organizing events, hosting parties, and of course actually dancing. Admittedly I feel more pride in the hosting part of my talent rather than the dancing part, however the school was looking for a dancer, not a host. The talent program for my year sought to implement pairs with similar talents. I was a last minute addition; the person who originally held my talent couldn’t attend. 

Adaleus, flashback: I still remember the day before it all started. February 13th. We were snowed in so classes were canceled. That was good news to me, I never liked waking up early. Although this morning I stayed in a little too long 

???: *sounds of knocking* Adaleus you in there? It’s noon, wake up!

Adaleus, present: oH SHI *answers door* good morning Mrs Sasaki

Narration: Nozumi Sasaki, the well respected headmaster of this academy. Back in her day she was the ultimate linguist. She’s very good at her job, both as a translator and a headmaster, but unfortunately that means she’s overbearing as hell sometimes.

Sasaki: … Good afternoon. Adaleus I know school isn’t in session today but could you at least wake up at a decent time? 

Adaleus: ah… that’s my bad

Sasaki: just try to get to bed at a decent time tonight, wouldn’t want you to be groggy tomorrow 

 Narration: And with that she walked off 

Adaleus: geez, if I knew I’d get reprimanded like this I would’ve opted out of staying in the dorms

Narration: We were given the option if we wanted to stay in the dorms or not, most students opted out since it’s quite the trek down to the village, leaving only the ultimate class and the headmaster as the only people in the school dorms.

Eun: Hey you, you’re finally awake. I was looking for Sammie so we could get some lunch, wanna join?

Narration: that’s Eun Kocur, ultimate animal trainer. She specializes in birds and is currently keeping chickens and pigeons. We’re pretty good friends. Last month she dragged me along to a bird show her pigeons were competing in. They all won, of course. It would be weird if they didn’t.

Adaleus: yeah sure, food sounds good. 

Narration: we walked over to Sammie’s shared lab, passing some fellow students along the way

Eun: oh hey Umeko what’s up?

Umeko: oh hey Eun! Not much, how about you?

Narration: Umeko Ongaku, ultimate Chorist. She used to be so quiet that it was startling to hear her speak, let alone sing. Especially since she has such a deep voice. Sometimes I’d play the accompanying track for her choir if the usual accompanist couldn’t.

Benjiro: oh? who's there?

Narration: And that’s Benjiro Sasaki, ultimate instructor. One time he mentioned how he was originally going to be a teacher, but disliked small children so much he decided to go into lecturing instead. He really dislikes being singled out due to his blindness, and well kids aren’t necessarily known for their tact. His service’s dog is named Mina. Sometimes we joke about how she’s more sociable than he is. 

Eun: it’s just me and Adaleus, we’re getting lunch

Benjiro: Oh that makes sense, it’s like 12:10 right?

Adaleus: *i checked the clock on the wall* That's actually accurate. How did you do that?

Benjiro: I got a new watch

Adaleus: what? But I thought you were bli-

Umeko: it’s specifically for blind people, dumbass. The face of the watch has raised markers so that you can feel the time

Adaleus: *takes a closer look* oh that’s neat! Did you get it for him?

Umeko: yep! It was supposed to be for Christmas but it came in late. Man I’m such a bad girlf-

Eun: shhh shut up Mrs. Sasaki’s coming 

Umeko: Eep!

Narration: an air of awkward silence befell us as Mrs Sasaki walked by

Mrs Sasaki: hello

Eun: hiya 

Umeko: g-good afternoon 

Adaleus: hello 

Benjiro: hi mom

Misa: *quiet woof*

Narration: Mrs. Sasaki didn’t know that Benjiro and Umeko were dating, and quite frankly neither of them wanted her to know. She’s overbearing as is, I couldn’t imagine it would end well if she knew.

We parted ways with Ben and Umeko, only to run into someone else.

Maricella: hey hey hey Adaleus I gotta talk with you for a sec

Narration: Maricella Tai, ultimate knitter. It’s rare to see her not working on a project, and even rarer to see her without her knitting needles. Everyone here has at least one knitted item from her, currently she’s making everyone blankets. She often jokes about how her knitting needles could be used for self defense in emergencies.

Rina: you didn’t even need my help finding him

Narration: Rina Bellerose, Ultimate Ballerina. I share a talent lab with her. Sometimes we help each other practice for events but to be honest we’re pretty distant. Quite frankly I think she dislikes me quite a bit, but it’s rude to assume that of people.

Adaleus: oh hi what is it?

Maricella: ok so I started your blanket and I was using this one specific shade of blue but I ran out of it completely, is it okay if I use a different shade or would you rather it stay consistent?

Adaleus: oh yeah it’s fine if it’s different. Hey maybe that could be the pattern. One shade of a color followed by a second shade repeated?

Maricella: I. Like. Your. Thinking!! Cmon Rina let’s go!

Rina: you don’t need to run everywhere you know- 

Narration: and thus the sapphic’s left as quickly as they appeared. Finally we made it to Sammies lab. I could hear the radio through the door, playing some music I didn’t recognize. Eun placed a few firm knocks on the door.

Eun: Hey Sammie! We’re gonna get lunch now

Sammie: o-ok hold on a sec!

Narration: the radio was shut off and replaced with a shuffling of sorts. Before long the long anticipated Sammie showed up.

Sammie: ok let’s go!

Narration: Sammie Usuro, ultimate tailor. He’s rather proficient at his talent, usually having a backlog of requests for outfits and fittings. Though for some reason whenever I need my clothes repaired he always gets to it right away. He broke his leg last winter break after falling off a ski lift.

Adaleus: Hey Sammie! How's your leg feeling?

Sammie: ah it’s doing fine. Doctor said that the cast could come off in as little as two months!

Eun: that’s still quite a bit of time

Sammie: Well it’s better than losing the leg due to gangrene. Let’s go get lunch.

Eun: What were you guys thinking about? Personally I could go for anything right now.

Sammie: Honestly that new restaurant down in the village sounds really good.

Adaleus: It does, but how are we gonna get there?

Eun: oh! We could take a sled down then just stay the night in town. We can come back up when school starts back up!

Sammie: Then it sounds like a plan!

Narration: we made our way to the elevator. Yes it was a snow day, and yes eating out was a Saturday thing, but dammit that barbecue place sounded really good. Unfortunately there were issues surrounding the elevator:

Simire: AUUGHRRHR OPEN UP!!!

Narration: Simire Rohim, ultimate badminton player. The winner of several awards and championships, often gone for weeks at a time to play in games. It was… very surreal to see this well respected athlete struggling with the door so much 

Adaleus: What… is he doing?

Icarus: I left my pencil case in a classroom downstairs, but the door to the elevator/stairwell is locked for some reason.

Narration: Icarus Onassis, ultimate volleyball player. He used to be just as into volleyball as Simire was into badminton, but after a season he completely lost interest in sports as a whole. Now he only plays during talent festivals and tests.

Eun: Simire I doubt shaking the door is gonna make it work

Simire: well what else am I supposed to do? 

Eun: maybe get Mrs. Sasaki and ask her to unlock the door?

Simire: oh *leaves to go do that*

Eun: Hey, do you think if we shake him it’ll get his brain to work?

Icarus: hey Don’t make fun of him behind his back!

Sammie: that’s rich coming from the king of shit talk himself

Eun: So would it be ok if I said it to his face? 

Icarus: you-

Mrs Sasaki: What's the problem here?

Simire: the door won’t unlock and Icarus left his pencil case downstairs.

Mrs. Sasaki: Oh I Must have forgot to unlock the door, my apologies.

Narration: but when she went to unlock the door, her key didn’t work anymore

Mrs. Sasaki: That's… odd. It must be the cold weather messing with the locks. I’ll call the locksmiths and have them check out the doors as soon as possible.

Adaleus: damn, so no take out :(

Mrs. Sasaki: Were you really going out to eat in this weather? There’s 100 cm of snow outside!

Eun: well why else would we have the sled?

Mrs Sasaki: that’s for emergencies only, go make yourselves something to eat in the kitchen 

Sammie: :(

Narration: burdened with an unbearable sadness, we made our sorry ways to the kitchen. 

Artemisa, holding a basket of produce: hey are you three getting lunch too?

Narration: Artemisa Spicer, ultimate food chemist. She’s somehow both the most and the least organized person I know. She always has her mask on since she's always in and out of her lab or the kitchen. She was in charge of catering a party I was planning once and she did an excellent job, despite her odd schedule.

Sammie: yeah.. Mrs. Sasaki wouldn’t let us go out to eat

Artemisa: There's like 100 cm of snow out there and you can barely walk!

Eun: yeah but like that’s what the sleds for

Artemisa: no it’s not! I’m making a bunch of soup for lunch anyways, just have some of that.

Adaleus: fiiiiiine 

Narration: we followed Artemisa into the dinning area. Artemisa slipped into the kitchen, leaving us with the other students waiting for lunch.

Gigantia: heyyy mantits McGee what’s up!!!

Narration: Gigantia Ader, ultimate Embalmer. I’m not very knowledgeable of her talent, I personally have seen enough dead bodies to last me a lifetime, but those in the field apparently respect her work greatly. Her personality however…. 

Adaleus: Gigantia we’ve talked about this… 

Fatik: can’t you go a day without harassing someone?

Gigantia: hey tits aren’t inherently sexual!

Fatik: you’re pleading your case poorly

Narration: Fatik Lemaitre, ultimate taxidermist. Again, unfamiliar with the field however they don’t tend to make people as uncomfortable as Gia. They’re often rather cranky though, especially with the bad weather recently.

Juniper: Hey, stop talking about badonkers! Lunch is ready, we made soup!

Narration: Juniper Caito, ultimate orchardist. During the tragedy they cultivated hundreds of orchards, forests, and farms. They’ve probably improved the world the most out of any of us just on the basis of food production alone. Their talent lab is full of plants, I'm surprised that Artemisa gets anything done. 

Fatik: oh what kind of soup is it?

Juniper: soup flavor

Gigantia: oh boy my favorite 

Artemisa: there’s also fresh bread in kitchen if you want it with your soup or a sandwich or something 

Adaleus: Aw fuck yeah bread!

Eun: breads not that good though

Adaleus: sounds like someone’s never had good bread

Eun: whatever 

Narration: the soup flavored soup with the bread shaped bread was very good for lunch. Eun left to go do her own thing, so me and Sammie went over to the library to hang out a bit more. Since it’s basically the entertainment center, someone is always hanging out there

Lapis: oh hey guys what’s up!

Narration: Lapis Ongaku, ultimate soloist. Almost the polar opposite of sister, he’s as loud and fun loving as anyone with the title of ultimate center of attention. He has a tendency to go off and do his own thing, which gets on a lot of people’s nerves. 

Sammie: oh we were just gonna hang out here! That’s ok right?

Lapis: yeah yeah of course! I wasn’t doing anything too important anyway, the internet isn’t working.

Sammie: oh that's odd, then what are you doing on the computer?

Lapis: playing chess against the computer and losing horribly.

Adaleus, thinking: looking over at the computer I witnessed the worst chess strategy I have ever seen play out. It was almost funny 

Sammie: Maybe you should play something else. Oh, how about we play uno? That’s easier!

Lapis: Aw fuck yeah i’m a pro at uno! You’re gonna be sorry you ever challenged me! Then I’m gonna be sorry cause I hurt your feelings.

Narration: we played cards for a couple hours, chatting with people coming in and out of the library. Eventually we went and ate dinner, which was just leftovers. Heeding Mrs. Sasaki’s warning, I went to bed soon after. Though to be honest, had I known what was about to transpire… I don’t think I would’ve gone to sleep.

✨you can now watch from Eun’s Perspective✨

Narration: Well lunch was eventful, it was fun to see Fatik throw a bread roll at Gigantia after one too many puns. Even funnier to see her catch one with her mouth and swallow it whole like a snake. Now what to do now…

Lapis: oh hey Eun! Umeko wants to talk to you

Eun: wait why?

Lapis: idk, she said it’s a girl thing, and since I am not a girl I can’t be privy to this. 

Eun: makes sense, where is she?

Lapis: she’s by her room, probably, she might’ve moved, it’s like a floor it can’t take that long to find her

Eun: fair fair, I’ll go find her

Narration: lapis was right, she was outside her room. Her nameplate is somewhat shiner than the others since they got her name wrong at first. They got a lot of people's names wrong to be honest, how hard is “Eun” to remember geez.

Umeko: oh good you’re here

Eun: Yeah, what did you need? Lapis was really cryptic.

Umeko: yeah ok so uh you know how Valentine’s Day is tomorrow? W-well I wanted to get Benjiro chocolate, but we’re snowed in, so I figured I’d ask Artemisa for help to make them! But she gets really intense when cooking so I kinda need you there for moral support!

Eun: Wait, you’re scared of Artemisa? All 165 cm of her?

Umeko: I’m related to Lapis, I know damn well it’s the short ones you need to look out for! So are you helping or not??

Eun: Well of course I am! Gotta support the gal pals even if they are sniffing cowards

Umeko: aren’t you scared of crickets

Eun: hey! they're freaky little bastards who know and resent their place in the food chain!

Umeko: yeah right, lets go

Narration: we went down to Artemisa’s lab and luckily enough she was down to help Umeko with the chocolate. I did as I promised and stayed for moral support, but unfortunately I became privy as to why Umeko had reservations about this.

Eun: hey why’d you make me put my hair in a ponytail?

Artemisa: the twin tails are unsanitary. Whenever you lean forward your hair gets into anything you’re working in, and I’d prefer it if your hair didn’t transfer germs from your lab into mine.

Eun: Firstly, domesticated pigeons are very clean animals! 

Artemisa: humans are “clean” creatures and yet food safety still applies to them

Eun: But then why didn't you make Umeko change her hair? Or change your hair for that matter?

Artemisa: because her hair isn’t long enough to warrant the concerns I have about your hair. And I don’t lean over countertops with wild abandon

Umeko: Will you guys stop arguing? I’m trying to focus.

Eun: Oh sorry! 

Narration: we finished the chocolates without much incident besides the great hair debate. I even got some of the candy as a reward! They made a variety of flavors, so there's gotta be something in there that Ben will like. Though considering his sour attitude, I can’t be sure that he’ll appreciate anything sweet.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which harry’s your soulmate and you don’t quite know that yet.

a/n: hello angels! i bring you soulmate!harry for my loveliest friend @sweetcreatureinthedark​ ‘s fic party! i chose the prompt “i’ve been in love with you, i’ll be in love with you.” i’ll be honest, this was tough to write, and somewhat was testing my writing abilities lol, but we made it through and I love it! so i hope you all do too! be kind and pls leave feedback and rb! :’)

thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta reading and putting up with the mess lol love you always <3

WORD COUNT: 15.4k of friends to lovers, soulmates, physicaltherapist!harry x professor!yn

WARNINGS: slight angst, mentions of heart condition and flatlining

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘YOUR BEATING HEART’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

There was a saying that your Nonna had always said to you ever since you were a little girl, one that she made sure was ingrained into your mind for the rest of your life. 

‘Someone is destined to your mind, soul, and heart.’

Your mother, Kath, had told you that she had repeated those words ever since you were barely a year old. Nonna had said them so much that they could’ve practically been your first words. She would say that statement along with: ‘There is someone out there who already loves you, they’re just waiting for the right moment. That right moment will be up to the universe.’ 

The concept of soulmates has been around for thousands of years, and Nonna was such a sucker for it. Having met hers when she was sixteen years old, she made sure she taught her family the power of having a soulmate. She told Kath that if she wasn’t around for you, then Kath was supposed to teach you. Luckily, she’s still around though because that woman is one of the best you’ll ever know. 

When you were old enough to go to school, the teachers taught you about soulmates as well. When you turn thirteen, you’re able to find who your soulmate is because the power inside of you ignites, guiding you through the world to find your person. The universe was…weird like that; teaching children that they were going to find love at such a young age. You were taught that you were born to be loved by someone, and since you didn’t know any better, you listened. Nonna then started to explain the meaning and importance of soulmates. You were fascinated by it as she would explain it so enthusiastically to you while you listened with wide and curious eyes, making sure you didn’t miss a single word of what she said. 

As a shy ten-year-old, you couldn’t wait till you were older so you could find your soulmate, thinking it would be a fun adventure to see who you would click with. Nonna always said that ‘when you know, you know.’ 

Once you hit seventeen, however, you slowly believed less and less in the idea of a soulmate, and maybe that was because you were trying to force the feeling of trying to click with every person you met, but you lived through your adolescent years listening to your friends rave about how their soulmate was so perfect when yours hadn’t even shown up. They were all smiles while you were all frowns, a disappointed look was planted on your face when you would come to realize you were probably going to be alone and that the universe had forgotten about you. 

At eighteen, living in a world of soulmates, you believed you didn’t have one. 

That’s how you lived your life. 

When you went to college, the idea of being bound to another person was pushed to the back of your mind and you started to live your life more freely. You didn’t have the constant pressure in your head, telling you to find your one true love because you believed there wasn’t a ‘one true love.’ Your Nonna was a bit sad to see you live thinking that no one was out there to love you, but you realized that you didn’t want to sit and wait around for the perfect person, you wanted to venture out. 

Throughout college, you lived…a lot. You met new people, hooked up a bit, and didn’t have the recurring thought in your head about your particular soulmate.

That was until you met Eric. 

You met him your last year of college; and he was a year older than you. You met him on campus while he was meeting up with one of his old professors whose classroom you just happened to be in as he walked in, and you had immediately taken a liking to him. Besides the fact that you were sexually attracted to him, you didn’t think you would see him again until you met him again at a coffee shop that was not too far from campus. Eric invited you to take a seat with him, to which you said yes, and the rest was history. You and Eric were together for three years. In that time you were able to find a stable job, and you lived life together before he proposed to you. You thought life couldn’t get better than this--you had the greatest fiance and a job you didn’t hate, which was teaching Anatomy at a community college. 

Eric had made you believe in love. Soulmates, however? Not quite. Although at times it felt like he was your soulmate, that was just you trying to force something again. He was your soulmate without all of the characteristics a soulmate would have. 

Nonna had always told you that your eyes would sparkle while looking at them, so intently to where you couldn’t stop staring at them, thinking you two were the only ones in the room even with so many people around. That you would feel the spark igniting between you and your soulmate, causing your body to feel warm as the physical pull would bring you together. That your heart would beat ten times faster when you knew who that person was, and that the erratic beating wouldn't seem to stop because your soulmate’s heart was also beating at the same pace. 

When it came to Eric, you were able to look away and you were aware of your surroundings. When you were close to him, you didn’t feel that magnetic pull. When you looked at him, your heart seemed to calm down to where you didn’t feel like it was pounding through your chest. When you looked at him…you didn’t think he was your soulmate anymore. It’s crazy to even think that you thought he was before when you didn’t believe in the concept, but there was no attraction or pull towards him, and the timing could have been better. Actually, it could be so much better. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” you muttered into the mic as several gasps were heard from the family and friends that had gathered for the moment. 

You were dressed in a white, lace dress with a veil clipped onto the top of your head. It was your wedding day, and you were telling the supposed love of your life that you couldn’t marry him anymore because the thoughts about soulmates had barged inside of your mind during Eric’s vows, making you think thoughts that you wished you wouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Eric wasn’t your soulmate, and you damn well knew that you weren’t his either.

“W-What are you doing?” Eric whispered as he looked at you with wide eyes that told you not to embarrass him right here, right now. 

“I’m so sorry, Eric. I can’t marry you,” you said more clearly, not really telling him but also telling the crowd. 

The officiant of your wedding was your friend, Vic, and she looked at you with a shocked expression as she was just as speechless as everyone else. You knew they didn’t have to say or ask anything for you to know what they really wanted to say; they wanted to ask you what you were doing and what caused the sudden decision to not marry someone you’ve been with for four years. 

You could ask yourself the same question. Better yet, you would like to ask the universe why, especially on your wedding day, why they decided to suddenly pop inside your head, reminding you all of the bullshit people feel when they find their soulmate. 

Eric looked at you with worry, eyes slightly watering as if it was his worst nightmare come true. But you couldn’t carry on with this while neglecting the feeling that was inside your heart and mind. You couldn’t marry him as those thoughts were screaming at you, telling you that you made the wrong decision. Those said thoughts were telling you that your true soulmate was out there somewhere, physically and emotionally hurting because their soulmate decided to marry someone else. Your marriage would be ruined entirely if you went through with it. 

“I-I’m sorry…” is what you said to him with a pout on your face as he shook his head. You started heading down the aisle, ignoring the disappointed, sad, and angry looks your guests, especially his family, were giving you as you walked away from the altar that held the man you had given four years of your life to.

Once you reached the middle of the aisle, you started to jog. Picking up your dress so you wouldn't trip over it, you started to run as you couldn’t take the way the people were looking at you. 

Without glancing back, you headed over to the black Mercedes that waited for the newlyweds on the curb. Your driver, Jackson, had turned around in his seat, smiling but when he didn’t see the groom, his smile disappeared, also noticing that you had a disappointed look on your face as well. You found a clean napkin on the side of the door, asking him if he had a pen. 

“How long are you willing to drive?” You asked.

“I’ll take you to wherever you need me to,” he replied. You smiled gratefully, writing down the address that made you feel at home before handing him the napkin. 

He immediately started the car before typing in the address into his phone, driving away from the venue that had relied and counted on you being a wife today. 

And you didn’t regret your actions for one second. 

Soft, cold winds rushed through you as your skin pebbled from the sudden draft while standing against the white wooden railing of the balcony in the main bedroom. The calm waves immediately put you at ease from the anxiety that you were feeling hours prior, as harsh thoughts pushed their way through your head, telling yourself that you were a disappointment—that you disappointed everyone at the venue. 

The shakiness of your hands was replaced by the grasp of the railing as you looked out to the distant sunset. The day wasn’t all that sunny, since the sun was setting behind the clouds. There weren’t that many people out on the beach either, but you were glad because you needed to feel like you were the only person on this Earth. 

Coming to the beach house was the first thing that came to your mind when you decided to walk out. You knew that Eric wouldn’t find you here because he didn’t know about it, plus you just wanted to be alone without the constant questions that came from your ex-fiancé and your family. 

You felt bad, of course you did, and you didn’t know how to begin explaining to Eric that he was just someone that you couldn’t marry because the previously pushed thoughts had come back to your mind right as you stood at the altar. But right now, you were wallowing in fears that overtook your mind, thinking that everyone was going to absolutely hate you, which you think they did anyway once you walked out. 

Setting the wine glass down onto the railing, you looked down at the few pedestrians who walked by on the beach, getting in a last-minute venture before it got too dark. You smiled, thinking about the soulmate crap the universe had made you think about your entire life because any of these people could be the person you would love for your entire life, and you wouldn’t even know. 

You groaned to yourself, leaning your body away from the railing and putting your forehead on your forearms. You stayed there for a moment, thinking about how exhausted you were, especially since wine makes you tired, including the long day of getting ready all for nothing. 

When you stood back up, you had accidentally knocked your glass over the railing, the glass barely making a sound once it landed on the sand. 

“Fuck…” you looked over the railing to see where your glass landed before you headed down the stairs. Once you made it near the bottom, you hadn’t seen the last two steps because they were covered by sand, so you completely fell on your face into the sand, making you gasp loudly from the sudden fall.

Laughing hysterically at your fall as you felt the embarrassment on your cheeks, you rolled over onto your back as you closed your eyes and laughed until you cried. You covered your face as you began to sob, feeling truly sorry for yourself. You never meant for this to happen. You were supposed to be happy, and you were sure you ruined someone else’s happiness. 

After a few moments, you got up and brushed the sand off your clothes and face, and shook your hair so the excess sand could fall out. You sniffled, walking over to where your wine glass landed before your phone rang in your pocket. It was your mom calling, and you knew you couldn’t ignore it. You were planning to ignore everyone’s calls and texts before you went back to your hometown in just a few days, but it was your mother--you couldn’t hit decline, especially right now. 

“Hello?” You answered. 

“Hi, my lovely. You okay?” Kath was surprisingly calm because you thought she would’ve been freaking out. 

“Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m good.” You walked back to the stairs and decided to sit on the bottom of the steps as you watched the calming ocean in front of you. 

“Can I ask where you are?” She asked hesitantly. 

“I’m at Papa’s house and I’m safe. No need to worry,” you reassured, smiling softly, even though she couldn’t see you. 

“Okay, good. I figured you were there. I understand you need space, but call me if you need anything, got it?” Kath was always a worrier, like every mom, but she seemed to worry about you a lot more than usual. 

“Got it. Love you, Mom.” 

“Love you too, my lovely. Oh, and,” she caught you before you were able to hang up. “I get why you did what you did, and I’m not mad. You’ll find them soon, okay?” Your eyes watered a bit, and you nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You heard Kath blow a kiss through the phone before she hung up. You always loved how your mom was always able to understand you without you having to say anything at all. She was great like that, and you loved her dearly for it. 

Pressing decline to what felt like the hundredth call from your in-laws and friends in the last two weeks made you roll your eyes and want to turn your phone off completely. 

You knew that you had to call and text these people back eventually, but right now, you didn’t want to explain. You already had the anxiety from your actions weighing you down already, and these people would most likely scream over the phone as they demanded an explanation as to why you did what you did, and you really didn’t need that at the moment. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the beach house and sit on the balcony as you watched the ocean; all far away from your problems. 

You were unofficially a single woman, and you could look at all the men and women you wanted now that you were single. The nagging voice in your head was constantly bothering you, leaving you no room to think about what you might say to Eric when you meet up with him. He had stopped calling you a week ago, and since you weren’t entirely cruel, you shot him a text, saying that you were fine and that you’ll talk to him when you were ready because quite frankly, you needed to wrap your head around your thoughts. He was a sweetheart in that way, giving you space when you were the one to walk out on him and needed to explain things. You truly didn’t deserve him. 

Unlocking the door to Nonna’s house with your spare key, you found her sitting on the couch watching TV. “Hey, Nonna,” you greeted, and she perked her head towards the door. 

She softly smiled, getting up from the couch before she walked over to you. She didn’t greet you like she always did, which made you a little nervous because you thought she might be mad at you, but when her arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into a hug, you relaxed. 

“Hi, Chip.” Her nickname for you came out with a smile against your shoulder. She had started calling you ‘Chip’ ever since you were a toddler. You had always wanted a bag of chips to munch on, and the nickname seemed to stick because you were still the same. 

Nonna pulled back, guiding you to sit with her on the couch. “How are you, love? I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she asked as she pouted, giving you a look of concern. 

You smiled to ease her worry. “I’m doing okay. How are you?” You grabbed her hand from her lap to hold it, the gesture making her smile a bit. 

“Okay as well. Worried about you. Haven’t seen you since the wedding…” 

You huffed out. “Yeah, Nonna, I just wanted to say I’m sorry-” 

“Chip, what do you need to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was my wedding. I understand why you did that,” she reassured you. 

“You do?” You looked at her with a soft look. If there was anyone that you wanted approval or reassurance from, it was your Nonna. 

“Of course, I do. Look, I know I told you about soulmates ever since you were younger, and throughout the years, it pained me to see you think that you didn’t have one. So, I didn’t push the idea onto you anymore. I wanted you to live your life, and when you met Eric, I thought he was nice, but I just knew he wasn’t the one,” she explained, making your brows raise. 

“You knew?” Nonna nodded. “H-How?” 

“Because you would’ve told me right away when you met him. You would’ve told me that you felt everything that I had told you for years, and suddenly when you met Eric, you didn’t talk about those things. I knew on the outside, you made it seem like you weren’t into the idea of soulmates, and that may be the case, but I know deep down that you still care about it. You want someone to cherish you and love you as we all do. You were excited up until you were seventeen because your friends had found theirs already, and all of a sudden you didn’t care. I know you’re still looking, but just wait a little, yeah?” Nonna always had a way with her wisdom, and she had that kind of intuition that made you feel a little less worried. The words that came out of your mouth weren’t much of a shock to you because Nonna was smart like that. You hadn’t realized all of the things she had picked up throughout your relationship with Eric, but you were grateful that she caught those things because it made it easier to talk to her. 

“You know way too much, stop,” you joked, making her laugh. You laid your head on her shoulder, embracing the moment with her as you thought about how grateful you are for her. She was truly the closest person to you, and you didn’t know what you would do without her. Suddenly, the doorbell rang as she got up from the couch. “Expecting someone?” 

“Must be my personal delivery boy,” she raised her brows teasingly, and you furrowed your brows in confusion. She had always mentioned someone dropping by to drop some things off from her next-door neighbor, and yet, you hadn’t met this neighbor of hers. Nonna opened the door and the person behind it wasn’t someone you were expecting. “Oh, thank you, dear!” She grabbed the set of glass bowls. “Would you like to come in?” 

The man behind the door said, “I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“No, please! Come and meet my granddaughter.” Nonna opened the door wider, so her guest could look into her house, and that was when he saw you, standing in the entryway with your mouth slightly open. “Harry, this is my lovely granddaughter--the one I’ve been telling you about.”

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he said breathlessly. His gaze was trained right on you, and Nonna looked between you two as the both of you looked at one another with shock. 

“Hi, uh, Y/N,” you shook his hand as you were quite speechless. He was quite attractive and looked young. He had short, curly brown hair that was pushed back with a red patterned bandana. He wore a black Nike jacket, shorts, and running shoes. 

There was a moment of silence between you two as the both of you looked at each other. His expression was soft as his eyes seemed to burn into you, making you captivated by his stare. It felt like time had stopped for a moment as you two looked into each other’s eyes, trying to map out what the intent stare really meant. Could it be? Before you allowed yourself to feel the imaginative spark, you broke out of your trance, placing your head down as you thought for a moment. He cleared his throat to relieve the silence as he scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere other than you. 

“I’m just going to put these away,” Nonna broke the silence as she smirked to herself while leaving the room and to the kitchen before you let out a breath. 

Harry smiled amusingly, chuckling a tad bit. His dimples popped out when he did so and you thought he was the cutest thing to ever walk the Earth. You walked closer to him so you were in the spot Nonna was prior as Harry was still standing on the doorstep. 

“Hi,” you simply greeted. 

Harry’s smile widened. “Hello.” 

“So, uh, how do you know Nonna again?” You asked curiously, tilting your head as you placed your hand on the doorknob on the other side, leaning against the door. 

“My mum lives next door actually. She and Tallie are quite close friends, so I would see your Nonna every time I would visit Mum, and Mum would have me bring things over sometimes—whatever the two talked about,” he explained, and you nodded understandingly, thinking that it was truly a small world. 

“How long has your mom lived there?” You wondered. 

“About a year and a half now,” he answered. Your brows furrowed as you were genuinely confused about why you haven’t met Harry before because you would always visit Nonna. He looked at you oddly as well, wondering the same thing. 

He’s known Tallie ever since Anne moved next door, and also found it strange that he’s never met you before. Tallie had mentioned her daughter, which was your mother, and has met Kath before--many times. She also mentioned you briefly, but he’s never seen any pictures of you, so he wouldn’t have recognized you if he met you. 

“That’s strange, isn’t it?” You suddenly asked, and Harry nodded his head. Before he could say anything more, Nonna walked into the room. 

“You kids doing okay?” She asked, and you smiled at her, nodding your head. “Do you two want to make some bread?” She suggested enthusiastically. You and Harry both chuckled, looking at one another briefly before you both said yes. Nonna clapped her hands, urging you two to follow her into the kitchen. “The dough has been resting for an hour already, so if you two could do me a favor and knead it for me, that would be great.” 

After the three of you washed your hands, Nonna instructed you on how she would like her bread to be shaped like breadsticks. You and Harry complied as she was making the butter. 

“So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?” He sparked up a conversation as he kneaded the dough; you were doing the same. 

“I teach at the college about an hour away. Anatomy and Physiology professor,” you said humbly, and his brows raised. 

“You sure know a lot about the body then…” he suddenly pointed out, eyes widening immediately as he stopped kneading. “That was really weird, I’m sorry.” You laughed loudly as he cringed at himself. “I was just trying to state the obvious since you studied anatomy, and it went smoother in my head.” His cheeks turned into a pink tint color as he scratched his neck--something that you already noticed he did when he felt nervous or awkward--feeling the embarrassment rush through him. 

You chuckled, looking up from the dough. “No worries. You’re…cute.” Harry didn’t say anything but shyly smile. 

“What about you?” 

“Besides living in general,” he started, and you laughed. “I’m a physical therapist. I work at the hospital downtown.” 

“Ah, interesting. So, you would know a lot about the body too then, huh?” You teased, placing his words in your mouth. 

Harry genuinely laughed loudly, filling the kitchen with his sounds. “Perhaps I do. That was a good one,” he said once he calmed down from his laughter. You beamed at him before you studied him a bit, trying not to get caught. 

You were so caught up in how focused he looked while kneading the dough, and the way his lips curled in as he rolled it between his hands. His hands were naked from the rings that you had seen prior before he took them off for this task, but the way his hands were built and what they could do had you limitlessly daydreaming for what seemed like forever. They looked strong, but they were pretty. The orange nail polish contrasted between the bulging veins in his hands, leaving a very fine line between it all. 

If you looked any longer, you would be drooling at the thought of this man’s hands, but luckily, Nonna tapped you and by the look on her face, she had caught you eyeing her delivery boy. “Yes, Nonna?” 

“Might wanna speed up the process, yeah?” She suggested, with her voice in a teasing manner. All you did was nod as you huffed out a chuckle before proceeding. 

After a bit more conversation with Harry, the dough was finally going into the oven, leaving an excited Nonna while Harry was placing the tray onto the rack. 

“Tallie, I would hate to not try the bread after it’s done, but I should probably get back to my Mum…” 

“Oh, go ahead, dear! I’m sorry to keep you for so long. I’ll be sure to bring some by when it’s done.” She reached up to hug him. “Be sure to tell Anne I said thank you for lending me the bowls, and thanks to you for delivering it.” 

“Always a pleasure. I’ll see you soon. Uh, Y/N,” he called out as you gave him your attention. “Walk me out?” You smiled, nodding your head. Harry said one last goodbye to Nonna before you followed him out of the house. 

“It was nice meeting you,” you told him, walking onto the sidewalk. You two were walking slowly since Anne’s house was right next door, and it seemed like you two wanted more time with one another even though it wasn’t said out loud. It was like you two already knew. 

“You as well,” he said honestly. You were standing right in front of you in Anne’s driveway, not quite wanting to leave just yet. 

Your heart started racing uncontrollably fast as you looked up at him. His green eyes still shined bright in the gloomy sky that looked like it was about to downpour any second, but they had caught your eye immediately, and you were completely lost in them. You weren’t able to look away and think how alluring his trance was. Your mind had stopped itself from long jumping into the conclusion that was begging you to finish the story, so you pulled your stare away instantly. 

“Uh, well. I’ll see you soon probably?” You asked, backing away from him. Harry slightly frowned but made sure not to make it obvious. 

“Yeah, you will,” he nodded, stepping back as he offered a friendly smile. 

“Bye, Harry,” you waved at him before you turned around and walked away. 

Harry walked into Anne’s home and straight to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He took a deep breath as he tried to calm down, heart beating outstandingly out of his chest that he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. When Harry walked into Tallie’s home, his heart was beating ten times faster ever since he saw you. He simply couldn’t stop staring at you, and the only way he stopped was when you had broken the stare. He definitely felt the spark there, and he wondered if you did too. He sure hoped so because he had never felt that strong of a feeling inside of him with anyone else. 

Anne walked into the kitchen once she heard the commotion from upstairs, and saw her son leaning against the counter, head down and eyes closed, and that’s when she began to worry. 

“Harry? Love, are you okay?” She ran to his side, placing her hand on his arm. Harry continued to take deep breaths, increasing Anne’s concern. “Answer me, please. You’re scaring me.” The sound of her voice was breaking Harry’s heart as he never wanted his mother to be concerned or scared, but naturally, as a mom, it was her job to be. 

“Mum, it’s her. It’s really her,” he breathed out a laugh as his voice was strained from the lack of breath he had. 

“What?” 

“Her name’s Y/N. She’s Tallie’s granddaughter. My soulmate.” His eyes watered that was quickly followed by slight tears that streamed down his face, feeling so overwhelmed by the joy that overtook him. 

“She’s here, huh?” Anne had tears in her eyes as she felt extremely happy for her son. All the heartbreaks and search for his soulmate had ended once he met you, knowing that it was going to change his life forever. Harry nodded, brushing the tears away from his face. 

All the signs were there; the gleaming stare, the spark that shocked him, the magnetic pull between you two, his heart rate rising, and he felt like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you. That’s when he knew. 

You were his soulmate. 

The rain had poured down quite heavily as Harry ran inside the apartment complex with his small umbrella that had barely kept him dry. 

Shaking the excess water on his umbrella and wiping his shoes onto the floor mat, he rushed towards the open elevator before it closed because it always took a while to land in the lobby. 

“Hold the doors, please!” He called out, quickly running his fastest while trying not to slip. A hand was seen between the doors as the doors reopened. Harry got into the elevator, taking a deep breath. 

“Harry?” He looked back at the other person who was in the elevator, and you were softly smiling at him as you took off your hood. You were wearing a burnt orange raincoat that he thought looked absolutely adorable on you, a university sweater underneath, black pants, along with black leather boots. Your eyes lit up at the presence of him, making him smile widely, feeling the attraction from you once again. 

“H-Hi,” he stumbled over his words, to which he mentally slapped himself. He cleared his throat, “How are you?” I miss you, he wanted to say. It had been about two weeks since he last saw you at Tallie’s house, and considering you were his soulmate, that seemed like a very long time. There was no doubt that Harry had been on your mind since you met him. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you overthink every possible thing he could mean to you. It was crazy to think that he wouldn’t leave your brain considering you had just met him. You concluded that Harry was just an attractive man, the first man you’ve ever looked at that way since Eric. 

“Good!” You said too overly excited, making Harry chuckle at your chirpy voice. You fake coughed, making your voice a tad bit lower. “Good, yeah. What about you?” 

“Doing great!” The elevator doors open, and Harry stepped aside, letting you in first before he followed. “Do you live here?” 

“Yeah, I do. This is me,” you stopped walking and stood in front of apartment 425 as you fiddled with your keys, nervously. You’ve been living here ever since you graduated college, and you didn’t fully move in with Eric because you planned to move in with him after you two got married, so luckily, you didn’t get rid of this place. “Do you also live here or are you visiting someone?” 

“I live here too. I’m actually on the floor above yours, like directly above.” Harry realized that he didn’t even press the button to his floor in the elevator. 

“525?” You asked as your brows furrowed. Harry nodded, giving you a small smile. “No way! Guess we’re neighbors…in a way?” You chuckled, and Harry grinned. 

“Guess we are,” he slightly giggled. 

“Uh, did you want to come in?” You asked. Harry’s eyes widened a bit, surprised by your offer, and you saw how shocked he was. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s raining and thought it’d be nice to have some company.” 

“I’d love to. Thank you,” he responded, nodding his head. You smiled as you proceeded to unlock the door, stepping inside as Harry followed behind you. 

The layout of your apartment was the same as his since he was on the same side and right above you, but there was something about your apartment that felt like…home to him. He thought it had to do with the fact that it’s your space and you were in it because no one’s home felt like this besides yours. You had a few small potted plants along the windowsill along with a large one in the corner. Right next to the plant was a small wooden table with your red record player on top of it. A mustard yellow velvet couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV that rested on a white shelf bookcase that held many books and vinyl records in the cubbies along with random knick-knacks on the surface. A wooden round coffee table was placed in the middle with a vanilla candle on top of a few fashion magazines. Underneath the table was a white rug that looked warm to dig his feet in on a cold day. Three concert posters that were framed were hung on the wall, and he knew you were his soulmate because the three bands that you had on your wall were his absolute favorite; Fleetwood Mac, Queen, and The Beatles. 

His heart fluttered as he looked around, feeling like this was a part of you that he finally knew now. This part of you felt like home to him as he was immediately washed over with the feeling of comfort right when he stepped into your apartment. He felt so welcomed that it was going to be difficult for him to leave your space. 

“Make yourself at home.” Definitely home, he thought. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” You asked, taking out a saucepan from the cupboards. 

“I would love some,” he smiled, sitting on the couch where he could see you pour the milk into the pot. After a few moments, he saw you rush back into the living area. 

“Sorry, let me put some music on.” You kneeled on the hardwood floors to look at your collection before you turned your head back to him. “Any requests?” 

“Any Christmas song would be lovely and very fitting,” he requested. It was the beginning of December, and Harry was in the holiday mood. Plus, you were preparing hot chocolate, so it is more than appropriate. 

You smiled, nodding your head as you ran your fingers along your selection before pulling one out. Harry noticed the cover art as you pulled the record out.  Ultimate Christmas by Frank Sinatra played on the record player, filling the room with melodious tunes. You walked back to the kitchen before flashing him a smile. He sat on the couch and soaked in the music as he heard humming from the kitchen, and he grinned. Harry felt a warm feeling in his chest as he saw you stir in the hot cocoa into the hot milk as you hummed White Christmas. This moment right here and right now was something he wanted to experience every single day--where you would make hot cocoa as he would watch you with sparkling eyes, thinking how Frank Sinatra’s voice fitted so well with the holiday vibe. 

You came back with two red mugs with a bright smile on your face. “Do you mind placing the coasters on the table?” Your eyes pointed at the coasters underneath the candle. Harry nodded and placed two glass coasters onto the table, and he took a good look at both of them. One of the coasters stated ‘Be Kind’ in pink, and the other printed ‘Love Wins’ in multiple colors. He smiled, knowing the smallest things in your apartment was making him fall for you even more. 

“Hope you like it. I also should’ve asked what you liked with your hot chocolate but I just assumed you liked the same thing as me,” you chuckled nervously. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, but you think it had to do with the fact that another man was in your apartment that wasn’t Eric. 

Harry looked down at his hot chocolate. There were several marshmallows in the hot drink and a scoop of whipped cream with chocolate shavings to complete the drink. He smiled to himself as he took a sip, covering up his flustered demeanor. 

“It’s exactly what I wanted. I drink mine the same way,” he replied, and you smirked. 

“Glad I know a man with great taste,” you teasingly winked at him, and Harry nearly melted in his seat, and it for sure wasn’t from the hot cocoa because he wanted to reply with ‘More like your soulmate.’ He wanted to know what you were thinking in that beautiful head of yours. 

He wanted to know if you felt the same things he does. Did your heart beat uncontrollably fast every time he looked at you? Did you get sucked into a different dimension every time you looked at him? Did you have the urge to move closer to him, closing the gap between you two? Because Harry felt all those things with the simple act of you sitting next to him, and he really wanted to know if you felt the same way. 

You crossed your arms as the chilly weather rushed through you. “To be honest, I’m quite shocked that we live in the same building. I wasn’t planning on going back to Nonna’s until the end of the month, so I didn’t expect to see you.” 

“So, you were thinking about me?” He raised his brows teasingly.

“And if I was?” You decided to tease back but came out more like flirting. 

Harry paused for a moment, drinking his hot drink as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Then…I would say I was thinking about you too.” You nodded slightly, quickly grabbing your drink as you took a sip from it, hiding away your blush behind the mug. “What’s it like being a teacher? Can’t imagine standing in front of everyone and practically perform, I guess.” 

You breathed out a laugh, thinking the opposite. He had the look of a rockstar, and his name sounded badass. 

“It’s great. I try being their friend rather than a teacher because I feel like if they’re comfortable with me, they’ll retain and understand the material better. I learned that if you’re comfortable with someone, you’ll listen to them, so that’s what I did. And most of them are doing exceptionally well. Some of my colleagues are always surprised with how many students I get during office hours because I encourage using office hours and my email, so I’m quite busy,” you explained humbly. Harry admired your hard work and dedication, and he already knew you were a great professor just by what you told him. 

“So, what made you want to become an anatomy professor?” Harry changed the subject, feeling a bit flustered himself. 

“I was undecided with my major in college until I had to take a few science classes. One of them was anatomy, and I just fell in love with it. I really enjoyed learning it, and just fell in love with the subject,” you explained. 

“The professor part?” 

“My anatomy professor was the best. She made teaching look so fun and enjoyable. Plus, I’ve heard one too many stories about students having teachers who weren’t compassionate or sympathetic, and I didn’t like that at all. So, I wanted to be one of those teachers who made sure students learned and have a professor who was understanding,” you said humbly. 

“That’s very sweet of you. Unfortunately, I’ve had those professors who were pretty tough and not so compassionate.” You pouted. You always hated hearing or reading tweets when students would type out an email and express what they were currently going through to their professor, only for their professor to lack compassion and support to students who were trying to do their best. 

That’s why you wanted to become an educator. You wanted to make learning fun for your students and have them enjoy going to class rather than dreading it and being nervous to walk in. 

“What about you? What made you want to become a physical therapist?” You asked. 

Harry set his mug down onto the coaster. “The same as you. Something about bones and the muscles fascinated me and how they worked. I grew up loving sports, so that helped a bit, but wanting to help people recover properly was a main goal as well.” 

“You’re kind like that; someone who wants to help out others,” you complimented, and Harry blushed. 

“Thank you. It also has to do with the fact that one of my friends in secondary school, Max. He got injured pretty badly. He played football, or soccer, and he tore his ACL, which you probably know already, but it takes about six to twelve months to recover from that—physically and mentally. He loved the sport like no other, and couldn’t wait to get into it. His doctor cleared him when he was four months into therapy. Four. Doctor said he was looking good, so he cleared him earlier than usual.” Harry shook his head in disbelief as he told the story and you sat next to him, listening as your mouth was slightly open. “Like most of us, we listen to doctors more than we listen to our bodies. So, Max started to play again, and as expected, he hurt himself again…” he trailed off. 

You placed your hand on his knee, comforting him. You could tell that Max meant a lot to him, and by the way he was acting at the moment, he cared enough to dedicate his life towards wanting to be better to people who rely on him. 

“And he couldn’t play again. That was when I realized that I wanted to study the body. It was a long journey to get my doctorate, but I eventually got it at twenty-seven, and I’ve been working as a therapist for about a year and a half now; the same amount of time I’ve been here,” he said humbly. 

“That’s great, Harry. You must be so proud of yourself,” you offered him a smile. 

“I am, yeah. You must be too. Guess we both have a knack for changing some perspective, huh?” He softly smiled. 

“Yeah, we do.” 

Throughout the rest of the night, both of you got to know one another. You found out that you had a lot in common with him, such as your interests in the body (given both of your careers), movies and TV shows, books, and food; told each other childhood stories, and talked about your families. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t judge you, especially with what happened a month ago. 

It was nearing midnight as the time seemed to go by quicker than usual. After two more glasses of hot cocoa, Harry let out a yawn as he checked the time on his phone. 

“I should probably get going--let you rest up,” he said politely, grabbing his mug. 

You nodded, agreeing as you didn’t realize how late it was. “Okay. Oh, you could just leave it there; I’ll clean up.” Harry was too tired to debate, so he put the mug down before you walked him to the door. “I had a great time. Thank you for inviting me in and giving me hot chocolate.” 

“Of course. I had a lovely time as well. Maybe…we should do it again sometime?” You suggested. Harry’s eyes gleamed as he slightly smirked; a tint of pink formed on his cheeks. 

“I would love that.” You said a soft ‘okay’ as you smiled. He looked at you for a moment, noticing your eyes sparkling in the dim light of your apartment as you stared up at him in such fondness, making his heart melt in every way possible. Harry cleared his throat as he was so caught up in your stare that almost hypnotized him. “Well, you know where I live, so come visit if you want or maybe I’ll see you on another elevator ride,” he playfully joked, earning a giggle from you. 

“Sleep well, Harry,” you told him as he walked out the door, away from the space that felt most comforting to him. 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He flashed you another smile, and your knees nearly melted at the sight of his gorgeousness. Your grip on the door handle tightened, holding you up from falling to the ground. 

You waited for him to turn the corner to head to the elevator before you closed your door. Placing your back flat against the door, you covered your face as a rush of giddiness hit you as your face began to warm up. That was the most fun you had in a while, even if it was just as simple as a long conversation. 

You thought about Harry as you cleaned up and got ready for bed. Thinking about how sweet and kind he was. You never had met anymore who was so polite and nice while looking like that. There was no denying that you found Harry attractive--anyone with eyes could see that, but there was something about his inner aura and personality that you found extremely alluring and intriguing. You wanted to uncover and unravel all of his traits. That was when you knew you were collectively fucked. 

As you went to bed, you dreamt of his green eyes and beautiful smile; drifting off to sleep, unaware that your heart was completing the gaps of Harry’s heartbeat. 

Two weeks had passed since your first hangout with Harry, and you two had been hanging out ever since. Throughout those two weeks, you’d seen him at Nonna’s three times. The first time was unexpected, when you pulled into her driveway, you saw Harry helping her walk. Nonna had a sprained ankle from missing a step when she was walking down the stairs, and luckily, Harry was a physical therapist. Seeing the sight made your heart warm. The other two times were planned and you two decided to drive to her home together. It was very domestic of you two, and the level of comfort was something you never experienced with someone you just met. Nonna was happy to see you two getting along so well, she obviously knew something you were yet to figure out. 

It was nice hanging out with him, you thought. He was a great and funny friend that could make you laugh for hours. But he was also someone you trusted that you could talk to about anything. It was  bizarre to think considering you’d only known him for a short amount of time. Harry was just so open-minded, exciting, and new. Plus, you didn’t have many friends that lived close to you, so Harry living upstairs was just a walk in the park. 

You were getting ready to have brunch with Harry and Anne. It was your first time meeting her, and you were a bit nervous if you were being honest. As Harry’s friend, you wanted Anne to like you, and you really hoped Nonna had talked you up a bit. 

A knock was heard on your front door, and you took a deep breath before answering. Harry was standing behind it, wearing a plain white t-shirt, pink corduroy pants, and a black coat. Something that took you by surprise was that he was wearing brown tortoise framed glasses that fit him so well and nearly made you melt. 

“Harry, you look very…nice.” Your breath hitched in your throat causing you to choke up a breath as he was completely breathless. 

The corner of his lips turned up. “Thank you, so do you.” You smiled. Shall we go?” You nodded and followed him out, locking your door. 

The restaurant Anne picked was not too far from your apartment complex—about 20 minutes. The entire drive to the restaurant, you and Harry sang your heart out to ABBA, pointing at each other as you both screamed out ‘You can dance, you can jive!’ 

“Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Anne greeted you with a hug, and your nerves slightly dropped as she welcomed you with a hug. “Harry’s told me so much about you!” 

Harry gave Anne a knowing look as a way to tell his mum ‘don’t tell her everything,’ and Anne gave him the same look saying ‘I won’t.’ 

“I can’t wait to get to know you. Our table is ready,” Anne said as she pulled away from you. You nodded your head in agreement as you all followed the hostess to your table. 

Talking to Anne was something so refreshing. She was so sweet and kind, and you immediately knew where Harry got his best traits from. She also knew how to crack a few jokes here and there, making you almost spit your mimosa out or choke on your food. 

Harry watched you two interact and his eyes watched with so much fondness. His mum and soulmate getting along was something he was so grateful for because he wouldn’t know what he would do if you two hated each other. The interaction was so natural between you two that he thought you were going to be the best of friends. 

“So, I hope this is not a personal question, but have you found your soulmate, sweetheart!” Anne suddenly asked, and Harry choked on his water, making him cough reluctantly as he struggled to breathe. Anne rose from her chair as you gently slapped his back a few times to help him out. Once he was okay from his cough attack, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Darling, are you okay?” She gave him a concerning look. 

Harry nodded, his face slightly red from the lack of air. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, yeah.” 

“You sure?” You asked. Your hand hadn’t left his back, and you could immediately feel the tingly feeling that spread throughout your arm like his touch shocked you throughout. Harry nodded again, reassuring you and Anne. You turned back to Anne, realizing that she had an unanswered question. “Uh, back to your question—no I haven’t found my soulmate.” 

“Really?” Her tone coming out surprising. 

You nodded. “Yeah. I thought I did, turns out he wasn’t the one.” Harry was eyeing you nervously as he sat beside you. He gulped, wanting to know everything. 

“I’m sure you’ll find them soon, sweetheart,” Anne reassured, and you gave her an appreciating smile. “Your Nonna seems quite keen on soulmates,” she pointed out. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she is. She started talking about soulmates since I was young. She found hers when she was sixteen. Her and Papa’s love was so special. Unfortunately, he passed away about five years ago you explained, and Anne frowned slightly. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, love.” 

“It’s okay! Feel like he’s always somewhat around. He owned a beach house that he passed down to me, and I go there every month, but I never change the furniture or take anything down, so it very much feels like he’s still with me,” you smiled as you told them. 

“That’s lovely, sweetheart. I’m sure he is, and I’m sure he’s proud of you.” You softly smiled at Anne’s words, appreciative of them. You felt Harry’s hand on yours that was resting on the table, and you warmed up at his touch. Turning your head towards him, you flashed him a smile and he sent you a subtle and innocent wink, making your stomach turn into knots. Luckily, you were sitting because you would have surely fallen if you were standing. 

“Where’s your beach house located, by the way?” Harry asked. 

“Monterey.” You answered and you noticed Harry’s eyes widen, glancing towards Anne. “What?” 

“I actually have a house there.” Now, that was new news. 

“Really?” He nodded. 

“Yeah, it’s in Pebble Beach. Where’s yours?” 

“New Monterey.” Pebble Beach was about a fifteen-minute drive from where your beach house was at, on opposite ends of the coast. 

Something was interesting about the fact that Harry was on the other side of your beach house. You’d been to Pebble Beach many times, sometimes walking the hour walk there to get away. If you hadn’t met Harry at Nonna’s, would you have met him at the beach house? 

You shook off the thought, realizing that Anne had changed the subject, so you listened. 

Brunch went by, and you were parting ways with Anne. You promised you would visit her when you visited Nonna, to which she beamed and hugged you tightly. Harry and Anne hugged, and they said ‘I love you’ to each other. Your heart warmed at the mother and son duo, thinking they had the best dynamic. 

You and Harry drove back to the apartment complex in comfortable silence, all the way up to his apartment. You two would take turns sharing your apartments because they both made a great hang out spot. His place was your favorite, though. The first time you stepped in it, you felt an immediate calmness to the disarray of what your reality felt like. It was like you never wanted to leave his apartment, simply wanting to cuddle into his couch with a soft blanket over you. You could possibly stay there forever, you thought. 

Harry made you both a cup of hot chocolate as it was starting to become thing for you both. It was nice; having a thing with you. It made him feel involved and important in your life. 

“Do you want to have an honesty hour?” You asked once he set your mug onto the coaster before he took a seat right beside you. 

He raised his brows. “Were you not being honest with me before?” He teased, and you nudged his shoulder. 

“I’m serious,” you giggled, and it was music to his ears. 

“I am too, but yes we could always have an honest hour. Tell me something.” He curled his lips in, and you couldn’t help but look at his mouth before you quickly glanced back up to his eyes. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Whatever you want to tell me. I’d be happy to listen,” he reassured. You decided you wanted to tell him what happened a month ago with the whole Eric situation. It was something you could open up to him about since he wasn’t at the wedding, so you knew he wouldn’t judge you.

You smiled softly. “It’s funny how we live in a world full of soulmates, huh?” You started. Harry’s breath hitched into his throat. He started to feel anxious right as you mentioned soulmates that led him to be speechless; he nodded instead. “Well, my Nonna has been telling me everything about soulmates ever since I was born. She constantly went on and on about it--always asking me if I’ve found mine ever since I turned thirteen. I was excited, y’know? She hyped it up so much that I couldn’t wait until I was older to find my soulmate.” Harry gulped, not saying anything. He felt a ‘but’ coming in, so he waited until you were finished. “I went through my teenage years with my friends talking about their soulmates that had found them when they were fifteen or sixteen. I was the only one alone. I don’t know why, but the universe must hate me.” 

“The universe does not hate you,” he disagreed, shaking his head at the hateful words as he slightly frowned. 

“No, it does. When I went to college, I stopped believing in the soulmate shit. I dated whoever I wanted without that pressure. But there was this one person that almost made me believe in soulmates…” you trailed off, and Harry took a deep breath. Maybe she does feel all those things for me? He thought. “His name’s Eric. I met him my last year of college…and we’re engaged--or were engaged.” Harry’s eyes widened as they slightly watered. His heart pounded through his chest as if he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Y-You were engaged?” He stuttered, holding back his tears. 

“Yeah. I said the universe hated me because I ran out and left him at the altar. When he was saying his vows, I thought of everything Nonna had told me. The heartbeat, the stare, the pull, everything. I didn’t feel that with him, and it was shit timing as well, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t feel the same way for me too,” you explained before taking another sip. 

“So, do you believe in it now?” He slipped in the question. 

“I mean…possibly. I know there’s someone out there for me--maybe. But I really pushed back the idea of my soulmate ever since I felt left out when I was a teenager, so I’m not entirely sure what the exact feeling you feel when you see your soulmate because I just pushed it out of my head and forgot about it.” Harry nodded understandingly. 

It made much more sense to him, and you answered all of his questions. He knew that you weren’t feeling all of those things with him. It definitely hurt him, but he’d hoped that those feelings would come around soon because he’d sat right in front of you, waiting for the right moment to tell you that he was yours. 

“Have you seen him since?” He carried on the conversation, wanting to know all the details and information that he could get. 

“Since the wedding?” Harry nodded, and you shook his head. “No, I haven’t. It’s been about a month since I saw him last. I’ve just been texting him to see if he’s doing okay because I don’t know where his head’s at, but he told me that he would call me when he’s ready to talk, which I have to respect and understand.” 

“A month?” 

Your brows raised slightly. “Hmm, yeah, a month.” Harry's heart began to beat faster, and he clasped his hands together to prevent them from shaking. “I feel bad, y’know? I feel like I’m now painted as this horrible person, but I know I am-” 

“Hey, no, you’re not,” Harry disagreed, shaking his head. “You’re pretty amazing.” Your eyes lightened up a bit. “I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, and you’re possibly the sweetest person I’ve met. You’re funny, smart, and really fuckin’ kind. You made a decision that was going to affect your entire life. That doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.” You didn’t say anything but nodded your head slightly with a small smile at his words. He didn’t need to hear anything from you to know that you were appreciative of his words. 

“I wanna know everything about you, H.” You changed the subject, not wanting to talk more about your failed relationship. 

His body turned warm at the sudden nickname. “Everything?” He raised his brows as he took a sip of his drink. He was a bit wary about your sudden want, but he knew that he could trust you. 

You nodded. “Tell me all your secrets,” you whispered. Your words came out seductive, which you didn’t mean to, but by the way he was looking at you, it seemed like your words had some effect on him. 

He curled his lips into his mouth as you pierced your eyes into his as his heart began to beat harder. He smirked a little, chuckling to himself at his reaction. 

“You're in for it, love. Have a lot to cover.” 

A blush formed onto your cheeks. “The floor’s yours.” He took a deep breath before he proceeding to tell you something very important to him. and he hoped he wouldn’t overwhelm you with this information. 

“When I moved here, a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed with Bradycardia Arrhythmia—my heart would beat slowly as you know. They put a pacemaker in after my second collapse. It was so sudden, and I have no idea where it came from, maybe smoking for an entire year when I was in uni, I’m not sure. But I moved here in August, so around that time, I collapsed. Mum rushed me to the hospital and they did a bunch of tests and diagnosed me, and now I have a pacemaker,” he explained calmly. 

The feeling in your chest was something you’ve never felt before. The heart tightened as he spoke every word, causing the pain to increase as your heart sank. Your eyes watered, not wanting them to fall because he didn’t need your pity. 

“Harry, a-are you okay now?” You asked, voice small. 

“Yeah, I think so. Uh, on Saturday at around eleven in the morning, two weeks before we met, I collapsed again. This time, I really couldn’t breathe. It genuinely felt like it was my last day on Earth. My lungs were closing in and my heart was slowing down. My mum was with me at my beach house, and I was lucky that she was there because she immediately called 911 and got me to the hospital.” You looked at him with fear in your eyes as you listened to the gut wrenching story. “I was gone for fifteen minutes, Y/N. Fifteen. It was some sort of miracle…” 

Then it suddenly hit you. 

It all made sense. 

Your heart suddenly opened up fully and the traces of doubt were left behind. Your mind started to piece together the reasons why you haven’t met your soulmate, and it was all right in front of you. The stories and journeys Harry had gone through had all added up. 

The beating organ in your chest had pounded so hard that you felt the beat through your ears, making it impossibly hard to hear, but your heart was fluttering uncontrollably that you couldn’t help but smile and blush. You could see it now—his stare. His eyes captivated yours as he looked so deeply into your eyes that you could stay lost in them forever and never worry about a thing. The magnetic pull and attraction towards him felt like you couldn’t hold back; that you wanted to continue being close to him as you inched closer to him. 

Your mind was coming up with different theories on why your soulmate was taking so long, but they all concluded to him. To Harry. 

It all made sense. 

The reason why it took so long for your soulmate to show was because Harry hadn’t moved here until a year and a half ago. He was still back in England getting his doctorate, and the separation between you two made it impossible to meet. Somehow your mind made up the conclusion that the only reason why you two met after Harry living here, in the same building, for a year and a half was because you were still with Eric; your time was spent on someone who wasn’t your soulmate. 

“Harry…” you whispered. 

His brows raised. “I’m okay now! Really, I am. I don’t think I’ll have any more collapses…” he said knowingly. His tone was like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew you were his soulmate. 

“Harry…” you repeated. 

“Yeah?” You reached forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your actions took him by surprise, but he immediately hugged you back, hurrying his face into your shoulder. 

You had instantly felt the warmth that he provided, not wanting to pull back. You took deep breaths, and you could physically feel Harry’s heart beating in sync with yours as you two sat in front of each other. 

“Why didn’t…you tell me?” You breathed out, eyes glossy as you pulled away from the hug. 

Harry noticed your change of emotion and he looked at you with a concerned face. He gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as your tears spilled out. 

“Tell you what?” He asked, still clueless. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were my soulmate?” You questioned. 

Harry’s breath was caught in his throat. He didn’t know if you were angry or disappointed with him, but you didn’t show any sign of anger, so he slightly relaxed. Your face was filled with confusion, and he wanted to take that away quickly. 

“You know?” 

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, tears threatening to spill out. 

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I felt it immediately when I first met you, and I didn’t think you did yet. I should’ve told you…” he grabbed both of your hands and brought them up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand sweetly. 

Harry’s eyes watered. He didn’t know if you were happy that he was your soulmate because you haven’t said anything, so he anxiously kept kissing your hand. 

You inched forward, placing your forehead against his as both of your hands were in between you two. Your lips met with his hand before you pulled away. 

“I felt it. I felt it all when you told me your story and about your condition. It was like your heart opened up for me and my heart finally had the realization that you were right in front of me—this whole time.” You sniffled. Harry’s tears streamed down his face as the overwhelming feeling was present in his chest, making his heart pound through his chest. Your hearts were in sync with one another, so you placed your hand flat on his chest, feeling the beating organ that was giving you so much life. 

“I can’t believe this is happening…” he said in disbelief. 

“Harry…I should tell you that, uh, the first time you collapsed—when you were diagnosed with your condition, that was when Eric proposed to me. Your second collapse, a month ago, that was my wedding day. The time you collapsed was when I was at the altar. There were just so many thoughts running around in my head that I physically and mentally couldn’t be in front of my ex because I just knew he wanted the one for me,” you explained. 

Harry’s mind immediately clicked. “Then when you left the altar was when I was brought back to life…” he pieced together like a puzzle. His missing puzzle piece was you. Your eyes softened, smiling at him because at least you did some good in the last month. “You saved me.” 

“I can’t help but think that I was the one that caused all of this,” you poured, and he shook his head. 

“No, no. You didn’t. If you’re going to blame yourself for that, then I’m going to blame myself for getting together with other people back in England, causing you to not believe that you have a soulmate,” he challenged. You shook your head in disagreement. “Then we have nothing to blame ourselves for, okay? We’re here now.” 

You placed your forehead against his as you whispered,” Yeah, we are.” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take in the events. You couldn’t believe that after knowing Harry for more than two weeks, he was your soulmate this entire time. 

Pulling away a bit, you looked at him as your eyes glimmered. The tips of your noses touched in the most delicate way as you looked at each other. The room was filled with so much clarity, light, and…love. You smiled softly as the corners of Harry’s lips turned up into a grin, dimples poking out. 

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked, eyes looking down at your lips and back to your eyes. 

You nodded, your heart beating ten times faster. He moved your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before gently placing his hands on your cheeks as he moved forward to capture his lips with yours. His touch and lips ignited you as the sparks ran through your body, making you pull him closer. His lips were something you’d never felt before. They were soft, gentle, and loving as he moved in sync with you, meeting your tongue with his in such a passionate and deep way. 

You felt completely overwhelmed with happiness as you smiled into the kiss, tears rushing down your face as you knew the wait was finally over. He was here. 

Harry moved you on your back as he hovered over you, lips never disconnecting as it was something he wanted to do forever. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly grabbing onto his curls as you earned a moan against your mouth from him. Involuntarily bucking your hips against him, you felt him grow between your legs in his flared pants as he grinded against your leg. 

He pulled away from the kiss only to kiss your jaw and neck, nibbling and sucking your skin, leaving a decent hickey on your skin. Your hands raked his clothed back, and Harry felt the way your nails dragged against his shirt, making his excitement increase because he couldn’t wait to actually feel it against his skin, only if you’d let him. 

“C-Can I, uh,” he stumbled with his words. 

“Harry, do you think we could wait?” You asked, indicating sex. His eyes widened, immediately getting off of you. 

“Oh, yeah! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, don’t be sorry. I just want to wait to do that with you,” you caressed his cheek. 

“Okay, that’s fair.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips to see if he wasn’t dreaming. 

The rest of the night was like this—you laid in his arms, stealing kisses from one another. He held you tightly, afraid that you would leave once he loosened his grip, but you were right where you needed to be. 

A week went by, and you were happier than ever. You were in complete bliss with Harry, and you never wanted that feeling to stop. It seemed like Nonna was happier than you because she’d been waiting for this moment for so long. She wanted to see you happy, even Harry, you being happy together just made her heart warm. 

You were just getting back home from doing some shopping when your phone rang. Assuming that it was your soulmate, you smiled as you searched for your phone through your purse. But what you didn’t expect was to see the contact that you have been waiting a month for. 

“Eric? Hi,” you said surprisingly. 

“Hey. Uh,” he chuckled. “This is a bit weird, isn’t it? I just wanted to call to see if you were free to talk.” 

Your eyes widened. “Yeah! I just got home. Do you want to swing by right now if you’re available?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great. The same apartment, right?” 

“The same one. I’ll see you soon,” you confirmed before you bid each other goodbye. 

You waited for Eric for about thirty minutes, distracting yourself by cleaning and tidying up your place as you constantly overthought what you were going to say to him. This was going to be the first real conversation you were going to have with him in a month, not to mention the first time you’re seeing him after you ran away and left him at the altar. 

There was a hard knock on your door, startling you. You took a deep breath before you answered it, revealing your ex-fiancé. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled, giving you a hug. He seemed happier and in a better mood than you’d expected. 

“Hi, how are you?” You invited him into your home. It still looked the same the last time he came over, which had been quite a while. 

“I’m doing good, you?”

“Good as well. Coffee?” You offered. 

“Please.” 

You made him a cup of coffee, remembering the way he liked it because of the amount of times you’d made it for him in the morning. Setting it on the coaster, you sat on the other end of the couch, facing him. There was a bit of silence between you two—both not knowing where to start the conversation, but you figured you needed to get everything out of your system, so you went first. 

“Eric, I’m really sorry for how I left things. I shouldn’t have done it the way I did, and I should’ve talked to you first before we even proceeded to the wedding, but all of a sudden, it clicked. When you were reading your vows, I was just thinking of all the things Nonna said to me, and I realized…you weren’t the one. You weren’t my soulmate,” you explained. Your shoulders relaxed, finally feeling like this was the first step before you got to live your life with Harry. 

“Hey,” he reached over to grab your hand. Now, you could say that you really don’t feel the same love as before. His touch wasn’t the same as Harry’s. Eric didn't give you the spark that crawled up your skin, only Harry did. “It’s totally okay. I mean that. I understand why you did that, and I’m glad you did because I knew you weren’t the one for me either, and it took me a while to realize that until…” he trailed. 

“Until?” You encouraged him to continue, but it clicked so quickly for you. “You met someone?” He smiled, nodded his head. “Holy shit! What?!” You exclaimed surprisingly. You were the furthest from mad, and you were actually really happy for him. 

“I did, yeah. She’s great, honestly. Her name is Mandy and I met her the night of our wedding,” he chuckled. “I went to a bar and met her there. And then I felt it. It’s the most exciting and exhilarating feeling in the world,” he excitedly said. 

“Isn’t it?” You raised your brows, and Eric furrowed his brows until he got what you meant. 

“Hold on…you…wait…you met yours didn’t you?” He speculated, and you laughed. 

“Yeah, I did. Two weeks after our wedding. Actually met him at Nonna’s. Turns out, they’ve known each other for a year and a half. Can you believe that?” 

“Actually, I can. Nonna Tallie knows everything. I’m pretty sure she knew that I wasn’t your soulmate too,” he said, laughing. You laughed along, deciding not to tell him that she actually did know. 

The rest of the night went on like this. You two caught up, and shared stories and memories that made you laugh when you looked back while pouring yourselves glasses on glasses of wine. You realized that you and Eric were much better as friends, and you’re glad that it didn’t end in a horrendous way because you really cherished and appreciated him. 

The night was getting late, and you two were giggling your tipsy hearts out as your eyes were trying theirs best to stay open. You realized you couldn’t fight over your exhausted and drunk self, so you decided to call it a night. 

“Uh, you could take the couch since it’s late and you can’t drive,” you offered. 

“Really? Thank you,” he smiled. You grabbed him an extra blanket and pillow, and bid him goodnight because you went to the restroom to do your skincare because you never forget to do your night routine no matter how drunk you are. 

You crashed onto your bed, closing your eyes as you let sleep and your dreams take over you, dreaming about the loveliest man just above you and how you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

When you wanted to see Harry again, you didn’t expect it to be the way you did. 

After a long eight hours of dreaming of him, you heard a loud knock on the door, causing you to jolt awake. Still groggy as you were sitting up in bed, you heard footsteps walking towards the door, and you had nearly forgotten Eric was still in your apartment and that he was going to answer the door. 

What you didn’t expect was to hear the familiar raspy and deep voice that said ‘Who the fuck are you?’ making you quickly get out of bed and heading towards the door. Eric was shirtless, clearly still sleepy, and Harry was standing on your doorstep with a bag of food in his hands. 

The picture looked bad and wrong. With you and Eric just getting out of separate beds, respectfully, and Eric not wearing a shirt, it really wasn’t what it looked like. 

“Harry-”

“A-Are you cheating on me?” Harry asked, not knowing if those were the right words. Sure, you were his soulmate, but he hadn’t made things official yet. 

“Hey, man-”

“I’m clearly not talking to you,” he interrupted Eric, giving him a stern look. 

You gently pulled his face down so he could look at you. “Listen to me, please?” He didn’t say anything, so you continued. “This is Eric, my ex. He came here to talk last night and we had a few glasses of wine and I let him crash on the couch, that’s all.” 

Harry nodded, but his face clearly said that he wasn’t convinced. You looked at him with a sad expression, feeling useless on what you could do to get him to believe you. 

“You know…” he started. His face looked disappointed, and you wished he flashed you his smile. “I found it odd that you didn’t know I was your soulmate when I first met you, and it hurt me, to be honest. It broke my heart. I waited patiently for you for my entire life, and I waited even more when I met you and you didn’t know that it was me. I get that if you’re still in love with him, I get it. You were together for years, almost forever. But this…” he gestured towards you two. “It looks bad and it hurts me more than ever.” 

With that, he walked away. Rushing towards the staircase, you ran after him, calling for him, but he ignored you. His long strides beat yours as he took two steps at a time, and you barely kept up with him, so you just let him be for now. You sat on the cemented stairs, placing your face in your hands as you cried. Your sobs echoed throughout the empty staircase, and your heart felt like it was ripping in half—Harry’s heart breaking just added to your pain as well. 

And just when you had gotten your soulmate, you felt like you lost him. 

A week had passed since you last saw Harry, and it was one of the longest, frustrating, and painful weeks you ever had to live through. 

The face Harry had given you was something you never wanted to see. The displeasurable look made your heart drop every time you thought about it, closing your eyes, it was the only thing you could see. 

He wasn’t talking to you, no matter how many times you knocked on his door and said sorry to him through the door that most likely came out muffled from the other side. Throughout the week, you tried your hardest not to get angry for being ignored as you refrained from telling him how unreasonable he was being. But you looked at things from his perspective, and you understood why he felt that certain anxiety of seeing Eric in your apartment…shirtless, might you add. 

It took you a while to figure out how that Harry was your soulmate, and you couldn’t imagine the doubt and discouraging feeling he had when you didn’t figure it out right away. You couldn’t imagine what he felt like when he first met you and felt everything indescribable. 

For what seemed like the millionth time this week, you walked into Nonna’s house, immediately feeling the warmth and comfort you felt every single time. But it wasn’t the kind of warmth you longed for from a certain someone. 

“Hey, Nonna,” you greeted once you entered, finding her on the couch, looking through her photo albums. 

“Hi, Chip. Come in and sit with me,” she patted the space next to her, and you gladly walked over, taking a seat, looking at the pictures of her and your grandfather when they were younger. 

“My soulmate. Miss you so much,” she said to the picture of the two of them smiling at the camera, touching Papa’s face. 

Nonna flipped through the album, telling you stories about every single picture. You loved hearing memories about your grandparents as they brought so much joy to you. Nonna’s stories were the last bit of hope you had in soulmates, and you made sure to never let it go. 

You saw Nonna take out a picture out of the slip, pointing at it as she told you another story. “This was me and your Papa when we went to the beach. We were with some friends, and he told me he was going to marry me. This wasn’t where he proposed, but this was when I heard it for the first time. I was surprised, but so in love.” She smiled at the photo of her and her soulmate. Nonna handed you the picture so you could get a better look. 

In the picture, they were both sitting in the sand and she was smiling at the camera while Papa was holding her waist, looking at her with so much love. They were such a beautiful couple and quite the lookers. 

As you studied the photograph, you noticed a couple in the back who equally looked in love as Nonna and Papa were. But to what shocked you was that the couple in the back looked just like you and Harry. You softly gasped, bringing the picture closer to your eyes, making sure you weren’t just imagining things, but sure enough, the couple looked exactly like the two of you. 

“Nonna, look at this. This couple right here,” you pointed at the picture. 

She squinted before she gasped herself. “Well, that looks quite like you and my delivery boy.” 

“W-Why is that exactly us?” You stuttered, a bit spooked out.

Nonna grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “Soulmates are destined for your future. What they didn’t tell you, or what I didn’t tell you was that, before you’re born or even conceived, the universe already plans for your soulmate because they’re quick like that. They have this stronghold that they can’t help but put together two people who are made for each other, even if they’re not even on this earth yet. In your case, the universe put you and Harry together in your past lives, way before you both were born. You and Harry were made for each other. Don’t let him go, ever.” 

Without even realizing, you felt tears fall from your eyes as she explained. Your heart felt like it was exploding with so much love. 

You needed him. You needed the air he provided. The light in your darkest days. The love that fulfilled your heart. 

You handed Nonna the picture back, but she waved you off. “Keep it. Go get him, yeah?” 

Kissing her cheek in gratefulness, you sniffled as you headed to your home. 

You found yourself exactly where you needed to be, knocking on the dark green door with the number 525 in gold. 

“Harry, please open the door,” you called out from outside. A frown settled upon your face as you continued to knock. The thought of Harry being on the other side of the door and ignoring you, made your heart ache. 

“Can't do that when I’m out here.” You turned your head to see Harry fiddling with his keys with a bag of groceries in his other hand. 

You smiled softly, rushing towards him before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him. “Missed you so much.” Your heart warmed when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, and you smiled into his shoulder. “Can we talk? Please?” You asked once you pulled away, looking at him with pleading eyes. And who was he to say no to that?

“Let’s go inside.” He walked past you, opening the door to let you in. You missed the homey feeling, and one week was too long without stepping foot into his place. He offered you a drink, but you declined, and he joined you on his sofa. 

There was an unfamiliar silence where you didn’t know if you should speak or let the silence take over you until the tension finally breaks. Harry wasn’t speaking either as he was waiting for you to speak since you were the one who almost knocked down his door with your fist with the constant knocking. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. This week has been brutal and I never want to go without you ever again. I looked at things from your perspective, and yeah, I would be frustrated and disappointed and hurt at me too. I couldn’t imagine what you were going through when you finally found me and I didn’t even know you were right in front of me. And I just want to say I’m sorry. Eric and I are over, and I don’t love him anymore. He’s already found his soulmate, and I have you…at least I think I still have you…” you said all in one breath, and your mind had gone into a spiral because you really didn’t know if you screwed things up. 

Harry breathed out a chuckle, smiling to himself as he looked down at his lap. You knew you hadn’t convinced him enough just by the way he’s silent, probably debating with himself in his head if he should believe you. So, you took out the picture Nonna had shown you from your purse, hesitantly giving it to him. 

He grabbed the picture and looked at him before he asked, “Who’s this?” 

“That’s my Nonna and Papa. Think they were, like, twenty here. But that’s besides the point…look at the couple in the back.” Harry squinted, observing the couple behind Nonna and Papa. The couple were facing the ocean; the woman was sitting in front of the man as his arms were warmed around her body. They were looking at one another, smiling brightly when the world was right in front of them. But their worlds were right in their arms. 

You noticed Harry’s eyes widen, looking at the couple again just as you did to make sure he’s not just hallucinating. He turned back to you, speechless, and you nodded. 

“That’s us in our past life. Nonna told me that the universe puts couples together even if they’re not born yet. Our souls were born to the stars and the moon. We were destined to be together decades ago, and we are now,” you hesitantly grabbed his hand, and you’re grateful that he didn’t pull away. His touch was on fire that the spark ignited into something so relieving. You looked at him so intently, and you couldn’t pull away. No matter how disappointed he was in you, there was still that sparkle when he looked at you. “Harry, I’m sorry if I made you think that I wasn’t in love with you. There is nothing more in the world than you, and you’re all I want. We’re made for each other, baby. I’ve been in love with you, I’ll be in love with you. Forever.” 

Silent tears streamed down Harry’s face as he curled his lips in. His heart was beating at a normal pace, only because it was now filled with the love and warmth that he’s asked for, and it all came from you. You filled that hole in his heart that’s been waiting to be sealed, and now you vowed to take care of it, and love and cherish it. 

Harry shifted closer to you and you smiled through your tears. He delicately touched your cheek like you were fragile glass, and you soaked in his touch that made your cheeks warm. You turned your head to kiss his palm as he cradled your face. He brought his face closer to yours and kissed the tip of your nose before resting his forehead against yours. You smiled to yourself; you thought the gesture was sweet and you missed his touch and lips so much that it had made your heart physically ache. 

“I’m gonna make you happy, baby, I promise.” 

He nodded as his heart forgave you. “And I’ll do the same. Forever.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he spoke so softly, and his voice was deeper and raspier. “I was overreacting the last time--I’m sorry. I just closed myself off and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. Your feelings are valid. Let’s talk about it next time, okay?” You softly suggested, and he offered you a small smile of acceptance. 

“I’m gonna love you forever,” he said.

“You better,” you teased, smirking slightly as he chuckled. 

The tip of your noses touches as you closed your eyes before Harry leaned in and connected your lips together. The lips that were molding with yours had taken you back years, and it was like you had been kissing his lips for the entirety of your life, along with your beating heart that was beating for him all along. 

pls let me know your thoughts and feelings on this! thank you for reading <3

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 23 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

hello my loves! Some of you may have already seen this, but I have news! This fic is officially complete. There are thirty chapters, so you still have seven left after today’s update. I’ll be keeping the usual Tuesday/Saturday posting schedule, so you have a month left of updates.

Now that I am done drafting this fic, my requests will be open while I begin to bank up new chapters of the Hotch x Reader Scandal!AU that I plan to write next. Please send in requests here. I would also LOVE if you could fill out this survey about the Scandal!AU so I can get a sense of what you all would like. I will make sure to write it in a way that makes sense, even if you haven’t seen Scandal! 

As always, thanks so much for reading, y’all are just the best. 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence, cursing, hospital mention

wordcount: 2.3k 

A little while later, Hotch sends JJ and Emily to the school to interview the classmates of the students who had been murdered, and you and Morgan head off to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Find anything interesting in the calls from the tip line?” Morgan asks you as he pulls out of the parking lot, and you shrug. 

“I need to go back through my notes. There were a couple kids' names that came up, but I want to go back and cross check for the names that came up more than once-- i figure if the name only comes up once, it’s kids pranking each other and I don’t want to waste our time on dead ends. Garcia’s looking into a teacher for me, though.” 

“We just need a couple more puzzle pieces, and then it’ll all come together,” Derek says, more to himself than to you, and you murmur out your agreement as he pulls into the examiner’s office.

“Cause of death for Mrs. Mack and Mrs. Sutton was a gunshot wound to the neck. The daughters, to the abdomen,” the doctor says, passing over her report. “The men were all strangled. The boys by hand, the men with a garrote.”

“Any idea what order they were killed in?” You asked. 

“My guess is the women first, one right after the other. Then the sons, and the husbands.” 

“How did he stop the husbands from taking him down while he killed the sons?” Morgan asks skeptically. 

The medical examiner points out a bruise on Mr. Sutton’s skull. “Looks like he was knocked unconscious, maybe by the butt of the gun or something in the home.” She explains.

“Thank you,” you said to the medical examiner, who smiled and left you both to your work.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Morgan asks you.

“White man in his twenties or thirties, snubbed by a woman he desired for another man, taking out the families he’s convinced he’ll never have?” 

“Call Hotch,” he said, taking off at a brisk pace back towards the car and trusting you to follow. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and discovered that Garcia was already calling you. 

“Hi Garcia, can you patch Hotch in?” You asked. 

“Already here bug, and trust me, you’re gonna want to hear this.” She told you, and you put the phone on speaker so Morgan could listen in while he drove. 

“What did you find, Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“So, I looked into Marc Vexper, and it turns out this long-term English sub has something to hide-- he didn’t make a single card purchase on either day that he was out, and his phone was completely off from the moment he stepped off the school’s campus to the time he returned.” 

“Morgan and I are just leaving the medical examiner’s office now-- Marc fits the profile to a tee.” You interject. 

“Oh but wait, the high school of horrors doesn’t end there,” Garcia warns you. “I took a peek at Marc’s texts looking for clues about his whereabouts, and I noticed some too-friendly chats with Victoria Sullivan, a student in his AP Literature class. Her phone was on both days, and I’ll give you one guess as to where she was both days-- and it wasn’t school.” 

“You’re kidding,” Morgan sighs out. 

“So did he groom Victoria into doing it herself, or was she an accomplice?” Hotch asked. 

“The men were strangled, Aaron. There’s no way she could have done that herself.” You tell him. 

“We need an address, Penelope.” Hotch demands. 

“Already on your phone. The station’s closest.” She tells you. 

“We’ll meet you there.” Hotch says, and the line clicks. 

In a routine you’ve performed too many times to count, Morgan flicks on the lights and sirens as you mount your phone with the GPS sending you in the right direction. It’s all the same as it usually is, so why are you so nervous? 

**********************

Hotch elects not to put on his lights and sirens as he approaches Mr. Vexper’s house, not wanting to alert him that anyone had found him out. There are two cars in the driveway-- a modest sedan with a few dings in it, and a shitbox of an old jeep with a parking permit for the local high school on the back bumper. 

“The girl is here-- she might be a hostage.” Hotch tells Spencer, who nods. “We need to be careful. There’s no need for any other kids to lose their lives,” he says, quietly opening up his car door and gesturing for Spencer to take a back entrance while he takes the front. He climbs the worn wooden steps and peeks into the window, seeing nothing before he takes one hand off of his gun to swing open the front door of the home, where he’s met face to face with the Victoria Sullivan, standing on the main stairway of the home, gun leveled square at the middle of his forehead. 

“Victoria, put the gun down,” Hotch says slowly, raising his own hands as a sign of good faith. “I’m here to help you. Where’s Marc?”

Before Victoria can answer, Hotch hears the woosh of metal in the air and feels an overwhelming crack in his legs, falling to the ground as he yelps in pain. 

“Run, Vicky! You know where to go!” Marc yells, and the girl disappears from Hotch’s blurring line of vision as March continues to beat on Hotch with a crowbar, stomping on his legs. 

Hotch vaguely hears Spencer's running footsteps, and Marc takes off, running in the same direction as Victoria. 

Spencer falls to the ground next to Hotch, attempting to gently tend to his injuries, but Hotch weakly waves him off. 

“Go, go, save the girl, he’ll kill her next. I’m okay. Go,” he coughs out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Spencer goes. 

Hotch groans as he gropes around in his pants pocket, pulling out his cell phone and calling Garcia. 

“I need help,” he says once the line clicks.

****************

If Aaron lived through this, you were going to kill him yourself. You knew you were being irrational, you knew it wasn’t his fault, and worst of all you know that he hadn’t even done something you could be mad at him for, like going in without backup. This was just the job. This just happened sometimes. And you were absolutely fucking livid that it was happening to him. Not to mention scared shitless. 

Morgan had pumped the gas as soon as Garcia called, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Your leg bounced anxiously in the passenger seat. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Morgan attempted to placate you, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“You don’t know that,” you spat out. 

“He’s tough. He’s got a lot to stick around for. He’s gonna be okay,” He tells you, and this time you don’t argue.

When you finally pull up to the house, Aaron is on a stretcher being loaded onto an ambulance. You throw yourself out of the SUV before it’s even fully stopped, calling out for Aaron. 

“I’m okay,” he sputters out as you climb into the back of the ambulance. 

“No you aren’t, you asshole,” you scoffed at him, your voice a little watery. “Tell the paramedics what happened so they can help you,” you said, stroking at the hair at the top of his head as your chin quivered. 

“Don’t cry,” he says, reaching up for you and you see that his hands are bloody. 

“Shh, shhh. Don’t worry about me. Let them help you,” you calmed him down, trying not to let your tears interrupt the medics when his eyes roll into the back of his head and he loses consciousness.

 Aaron will live, and you suppose you won’t follow through on your threats to kill him. Once he’s in the hospital, they wheel him back to a restricted area, leaving you alone in a waiting room while the rest of the team finds the unsub. You call Jess, let her know what’s going on, but ask that she keep it from Jack until you’re back in the room with him and Hotch is able to talk to Jack himself. You didn’t want Jack to worry, and you knew that Aaron’s assurance that he was fine was the only comfort Jack would accept.

After a while-- it could have been thirty minutes or three hours, Emily appears in the waiting room..

“I was appointed to come check on you,” she says by way of greeting. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Not since they took him out of the ambulance. He looked… bad,” you struggle to find a word that explains the magnitude of it. 

“He’s gonna be fine. No gunshot wounds, just some nasty bruises. I’m sure it looked worse than it actually was.” She consoles you gently.

“I hope you’re right.”

At that moment, a doctor appears in the doorway. “For Agent Hotchner?” He asks, and you walk over to him. 

“I’m Aaron’s partner,” you explain, the word “girlfriend” feeling entirely too childish for the scenario. 

“Agent Hotchner is going to be just fine. His left leg is fractured slightly at the femur and the kneecap, but we’ve put him in a brace to stabilize the knee, and he should recover over the next eight to twelve weeks. He’ll need some physical therapy, and field work is out of the question until he is cleared, but he’ll make a full recovery.  He has a mild concussion and a few bruised ribs, but we’ve given him some meds for the pain and the concussion shouldn’t present any further complications.” 

No field work. Aaron was going to be pissed. “Thank you, doctor.” You said gratefully. 

“He’s been asking for you, if you’d like to follow me,” The doctor responds, and you allow him to lead you down a maze of hallways, leaving you just outside Aaron’s room, where his eyes are shut and his chest rises and falls slowly. Figures, you were sure he’d been up all night running through profiles in his head.

You sat on his right side, away from his injured leg, and rested your head against his mattress, near his hip bone. He looked so fragile like this, wrapped up in a thin blanket and a johnny, bandaged from his collar bone to his toes. You wondered, briefly, if he felt this helpless and frustrated the night that he picked you up from your old apartment. The tears well up against your will, but you allow them to fall, for a few moments. You had earned the right to care for him, to worry about him, to fret. You had earned the right to sit vigil at his hospital bed and try to force images of a lifetime lived without him to stop passing through your head. 

Aaron stirred, and you sucked in a quick breath, not wanting to wake him. He settled, again, and you rested your head back against the mattress, letting the gentle rhythm of his breath lull you to sleep. 

He twitches a little while later, and the sudden movement jolts you awake. His return to the waking world is slower, and you let him come at it at his own pace, not wanting to overwhelm him when he was probably already going to be in pain and disoriented. You hear him mumble out your name and you stand, placing one hand on his cheek and the other in his uninjured palm. 

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered to him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to look you up and down without moving his neck. 

“Am I--” you chided gently. “Honey, I’m fine. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” 

“My leg,” he tells you, trying to sit up, but you push back on his shoulders. 

“Absolutely not,” you tell him. “You broke your leg. You are staying in this bed until a doctor tells you otherwise.” 

“Fuck,” Aaron muttered out. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Is Spencer okay? And the girl, Victoria Sullivan?” 

“The team took them both alive. Spencer is fine, just a little breathless from his run.” You tell him. 

“When is it gonna heal?” He switches topics back to his injury. 

“You mean, when are you going to be allowed into the field again?” You asked skeptically, and he at least has the good grace to look sheepish. “Not for at least six weeks, more than likely closer to ten, plus physical therapy.” 

“God damnit,” Aaron sighs. 

“It could have been a lot worse, Aaron,” you point out softly, and he looks up at you. 

“You’ve been crying.” He says softly. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

“Don’t lie to a profiler,” He chides you gently.

“Well, I’m the woman who loves you and I’ve earned the right to cry when you’re hurt.” You said defensively, but not unkindly.

“Hey, I’m okay. Really, I swear. Come up here,” he urges you, and you roll your watery eyes. 

“I’ll hurt you,” you tell him. 

“You’ll hurt me worse if you don’t come cuddle,” he pouts. 

“Corny bastard,” you chuckle, tenderly sliding into bed next to him. 

Unable to shift and cuddle, Aaron settles for reaching out for your hand, which you allow him to take in his own. He strokes his thumb over the back of your palm tenderly. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers, and you might start crying again right there.

“Don’t do it again. I was ready to kill you myself,” you warned him. 

“Noted.” 

“We should call Jack. I didn’t tell him what was going on, I didn’t want to scare him. Jess knows.” 

“I just… want to hold your hand for a couple more minutes.” 

“Okay, love. A few more minutes.”

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

[gayenerd]

I just realized I didn’t post that 2007 Rolling Stone article I posted about here. 

Billie Joe Armstrong

The Green Day leader talks Bush, Britney and being a middle-aged punk for our 40th anniversary.

DAVID FRICKE

Posted Nov 01, 2007 8:19 AM

You have two young sons. What kind of America will they inherit?

This war has to finish before something new blossoms. There's no draft — that's why none of the kids give a shit. They'd rather watch videos on YouTube. It's hard to tell what's next — there is so much information out there with no power to it. Everything is in transition, including our government. Next year, it's someone else in the White House. There's no way to define anything. It's Generation Zero. But you gotta start at zero to get to something.

Is there anyone now running for president who gives you hope for the future?

Barack Obama, but it's a bit early to tell if this is the guy I like. I get sick of the religious-figure thing. People don't question their rulers, these political figures, just as they don't question their ministers and priests. They're not going to question George Bush, especially if he goes around talking about God — "I'm going to let God decide this for me. He's going to give me the answer." The fear of God keeps people silent.

When did you first vote in a presidential election?

In 1992. I was twenty. I voted for Clinton.

Did you feel like you made a difference?

Yeah. The Eighties sucked. There was so much bullshit that went along with that decade. I felt like Clinton was a fresh face with fresh ideas. There were times when he was dropping bombs, and I'm thinking, "What the fuck are you doing?" But he became a target. We have this puritanical vision of what a leader is supposed to be, and that's what makes us the biggest hypocrites in the world. We got so inside this guy's sexual habits. Now we have a president going around, killing in the name of what? In the name of nothing.

What did you accomplish with your 2004 anti-Bush album, "American Idiot"? He was re-elected anyway, and the war in Iraq is still going on.

I found a voice. There may have been people disenfranchised by it. People have a hard time with that kind of writing: "Why are you preaching to me?" It does sound preachy, a bit. I'm a musician, and I want to say positive things. If it's about self-indulgent depression or overthrowing the government, it's gotta come from my heart. And when you say "Fuck George W. Bush" in a packed arena in Texas, that's an accomplishment, because you're saying it to the unconverted.

Do you think selling nearly 6 million copies of that album might have an effect on the 2008 election? A kid who bought it at fifteen will be voting age next year.

I hope so. I made it to give people a reason to think for themselves. It was supposed to be a catalyst. Maybe that's one reason why it's difficult for me to write about politics now. A lot of things on that record are still relevant. It's like we have this monarchy in politics — the passing of the baton between the Clintons and the Bushes. That's frightening. What needs to happen is a complete change, a person coming from the outside with a new perspective on all the fucked-up problems we have.

How would you describe the state of pop culture?

People want blood. They want to see other people thrown to the lions. Do audiences want rock stars? I can't tell. You have information coming at you from so many areas — YouTube, the Internet, tabloids. Watching Britney Spears the other night [on the MTV Video Music Awards] was like watching a public execution. How could the people at MTV, the people around her, not know this girl was fucked up? People came in expecting a train wreck, and they got more than they bargained for.

She was a willing conspirator. She didn't say no.

She is a manufactured child. She has come up through this Disney perspective, thinking that all life is about is to be the most ridiculous star you could be. But it's also about what we look at as entertainment — watching somebody go through that.

How do you decide what your children can see on TV or the Internet? As a dad, even a punk-rock dad, that can make you conservative in your choices.

I want to protect them from garbage. It's not necessarily the sex and drugs. It's bad drugs and bad sex, the violence you see on television and in the news. I want to protect them from being desensitized. I want them to realize this is real life, not a video game.

The main thing I want them to have is a good education, because that's something I never had. Get smart. Educate yourself as much as you can, and get as much out of it, even if the teacher is an asshole.

Do you regret dropping out of high school?

Life in high school sucks. I bucked the system. I also got lucky. My wife has a degree in sociology, and there are conversations she has — I don't have a fucking clue what they're talking about. College — I could have learned from that.

But I was the last of six kids. At that point, my mother was fifty-eight, and she threw up her hands — "I'm through with this parenting thing." Also, I could not handle authority figures. But I wouldn't say I'm an authority figure for my kids. I provide guidelines, not rules.

What is it like being a middle-aged punk? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?

It's about the energy you bring with you, the pulse inside your head. I want to get older. I don't want to be twenty-one again. Screw that. My twenties were a difficult time — where my band was at, getting married, having a child. I remember walking out of a gig in Chicago, past these screaming kids. There were these punks, real ones, sitting outside our tour bus. One girl had a forty-ouncer, and she goes, "Billie Joe, come drink with us." I said, "I can't, I've got my family on the bus." She goes, "Well, fuck you then." I get on the bus, and my wife says, "Did that bitch just tell you to fuck off? I'm gonna kick her ass right now." I'm holding her back, while my child is naked, jumping on the couch: "Hi, Daddy!" That was my whole life right there — screaming kids, punks telling me to fuck off, my wife getting pissed, my naked son waiting to get into his pajamas.

There's nothing wrong with being twenty-one. It's the lessons you learn. At thirty, you think, "Why did I worry so much about this shit?" When I hit forty, I'll say the same thing: "Why did I worry about this shit in my thirties?"

What have you learned about yourself?

There is more to life than trying to find your way through self-destruction or throwing yourself into the fire all the time. Nihilism in punk rock can be a cliché. I need to give myself more room to breathe, to allow my thoughts to catch up with the rest of me.

Before Dookie, I wasn't married and I didn't have kids. I had a guitar, a bag of clothes and a four-track recorder. There are ways you don't want to change. You don't want to lose your spark. But I need silence more than I did before. I need to get away from the static and noise, whereas before, I thrived on it.

Are you ready for the end of the music business? The technology and its effect on sales have changed dramatically since Green Days' debut EP — on vinyl — in 1989.

Technology now and the way people put out records — everything comes at you so fast, you don't know what you're investigating. You can't identify with it — at least I can't. With American Idiot, we made a conscious effort to give people an experience they could remember for the rest of their lives. It wasn't just the content. It was the artwork, the three acts — the way you could read it all like someone's story.

Is music simply not important to young people now the way it was to you as a kid?

People get addicted to garbage they don't need. At shows, they gotta talk on their phones to their friend who's in the next aisle. I was watching this documentary on Jeff Tweedy of Wilco [Sunken Treasure]. He was playing acoustic, and he ends up screaming at the audience: "Your fucking conversation can wait. I'm up here singing a song — get involved." He wasn't being an asshole. He was like, "Leave your bullshit behind. Let's celebrate what's happening now."

We need music, and we need it good. I took it very seriously. There's a side of me where music will always send chills up my spine, make me cry, make me want to get up and do Pete Townshend windmills. In a lot of ways, I was in a minority when I was young. There are people who go, "Oh, that's a snappy tune." I listen to it and go, "That's the greatest fucking song ever. That is the song I want played at my funeral."

Now that you've brought it up, what song do you want played at your funeral?

It keeps changing. "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie. "In My Life," by the Beatles. "Love," by John Lennon.

Those are all reflective ballads, not punk.

I disagree. They are all honest in their reflection. The punk bands I liked were the ones who didn't fall into clichés — the Clash, the Ramones. The Ramones wrote beautiful love songs. They also invented punk rock. I'd have to add "Blitzkrieg Bop" to the list.

What is the future of punk rock? Will it still be a voice of rebellion in twenty years?

It's categorized in so many different ways. You've got the MySpace punks. But there is always the subculture of it — the rats in the walls, pounding the pavement and booking their own live shows. It comes down to the people who are willing to do something different from everybody else.

You are in a different, platinum-album world now. What makes you so sure that spirit survives?

I'm going on faith — because I was there. Gilman Street [the Berkeley, California, club where Green Day played early shows] is still around. And that's a hard task, because there is no bar — it's a nonprofit cooperative. It's like a commune — this feeling of bucking the system together, surviving and thriving on art. Punk, as an underground, pushes for the generation gap. As soon as you're twenty-five years old, there's a group of sixteen-year-olds coming to kick your ass. And you have to pass the torch on. It's a trip to have seen it happen so many times. It gives me goose bumps — punk is something that survives on its own.

[shsl-box-worshipper]

The Protag Magical Squad and How they met

Happy Birthday, @leafintel! For my gift, I bring you a small preview of the first draft of a fanfic I’m fucking writing based on your magical bois art! Enjoy, and pls tell me if I suck or not _______________ Makoto was, by all means, one of the most average teenagers alive. If you put aside his luck, his immense optimism, and his height, he was about normal as the guy next door. His interests and hobbies aligned with what was popular and he didn’t seem like that his life could change in just a few hours. In fact, he didn’t even imagine what would be happen in the course of those hours. In that short amount of time, he would meet two of the most amazing people he’s ever met, and would get thrown onto an adventure of a lifetime. Talk about a life changer! //// Location: Near Hope’s Peak Academy Time: 8:21 am Makoto was running toward his school, obviously running late. He was coming back to school after a weekend of spending time with his family, but apparently, the train that was supposed to take him to Hope’s Peak from his home had broken down just as it parked, and thus, he had to waste 30 minutes he could’ve used to get to school waiting for the train to get back up and running. He hoped Mr. Kizakura wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t there for morning registration for a few minutes. Even though Kizakura was drunk half the time, he wanted to at least not look like a douche in front of him. “Oh, I hope I don’t miss seeing Maizono off! She always leave’s right after morning registration, and I want to at least talk to her about the group project.” For context, he, Sayaka, and an underclassman of his were busy in a school project, in which they had to figure out the meaning of a bunch of poems written by an obscure poet. The reason that an underclassman was part of the project was because the three were among the few Ultimates that actually attended normal classes. He personally didn’t really know the underclassmen minus the fact that he had the same talent as another classmate of his, Kyouko Kirigiri. Anyway, back to the task at hand! The poor boy was working a sweat as he ran to Hope’s Peak, completely unaware of his own surroundings as he headed to the school of hope. It seemed to be going well for the boy, in terms of how late he would be, until... *WAAHM!* He ran in, head first, into someone! He landed on his butt, yelping as he fell to the pavement of the sidewalk. “Owwww...” Makoto groaned, rubbing his forehead where he had run into the person. It felt sore to the touch, but he didn’t really injure himself. Just rammed right into them. “W-Woah, hey! Are you alright?” The soul who Makoto ran into came over to Makoto, who was still on the ground, and held out his hand. Makoto looked up, only to see another boy. He wore a black suit, common to those who did school in the Reserve Course, Hope’s Peak’s lesser known program for those who want to be one of the Ultimates. He had short spiky brown hair with an ahoge similar to Makoto’s, except spikier and looking like it could cut someone like a razor, green eyes that were filled with both concern and a lack of energy, and seemed a year or so older than Makoto, which made sense. Makoto, after all, still had upperclassmen. Still though, he couldn’t help but blush embarrassingly as he grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled himself up.

“I’m sorry for bumping into y-you-” Makoto would quickly try to apologize, but would be cut off by the boy. “No, it’s okay. I was lost in thought, and didn’t know I wasn’t the only one running late-” Judging by the boy’s statement, he was lost in thought about something important. “N-No, it isn’t your fault! I wasn’t paying attention on where I was going!” Makoto, being the naïve dork he was, continued apologizing his ears off. It was so much so that by the time to the two got to walking again, he was still apologizing, to the point where the boy started looking both guilt-tripped and annoyed, though he did try his best to hide it in order for Makoto to not continue feeling guilty. It took about ten or so minutes for the two to reach the gates of Hope’s Peak. At that point, Makoto had stopped apologizing the reserve course student’s ears off, and instead, was trying to stay quiet, visibly embarrassed and wondering whether or not he should start a conversation. “U-Umm, I’m sorry for bumping into you, again...” The Lucky Student would skittishly turn toward the other teen. He then would reach out his hand, obviously nervous as to if the supposed upperclassmen was going to answer. “I’m Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Lucky Student!” Makoto was trying to focus away from what happened, and he personally did want to learn the name of the boy he just met. Even with all that, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation pooling in his belly, one he didn’t really know how to describe. Maybe it was just a layered version of guilt? Happiness? Pleasure? What it meant to the small boy was a mystery. Anyway, the boy he had bumped into, after staring at his hand with beads of sweat running down his forehead for a few seconds, sighed and half-heartedly shaked his hand. “Ugh, well, I guess I should introduce myself now,” the boy whispered in defeat, an effect not uncommon for those who knew or met Makoto Naegi. The boy was so bright and happy that even the most stoic of them broke when it came to the boy’s skittishness and optimism. “Hajime. Hajime Hinata. You can probably guess that I’m not exactly an Ultimate.” The boy named Hajime continued shaking his hand, filled with a similar feeling to what Makoto had. The boy did think about how odd Makoto’s talent. I mean, you get to join this school purely based on luck? Now, that’s rare, and something he hadn’t heard off before outside of what Chiaki said about a certain hope obsessed bastard. “Nice to meet you, Hinata-kun!” Makoto soon beamed his signature, which caused his new friend to blush. Makoto sheepishly chuckled as he scratched his cheek like the cutest goddamn boy on the fucking planet. “It’s nice knowing someone that isn’t in the Main Course. Even though I’m an Ultimate myself, I’m kind of average for someone my age.” Poor Hajime had to hide the blush desperately from Makoto, much to the small child’s confusion. He then just replied with desperation in his voice, and obviously sounding a bit pre-occupied.  “R-Really? Wow, didn’t know an Ultimate that wasn’t Nanami-san would actually introduce themselves to me.” Hajime internally did a fist pump of pure pride, though he did hide this emotion. I mean, him meeting another ultimate that wasn’t just Chiaki? It seemed crazy, but here he is, talking to the hopeful enigma known as Makoto Naegi. He let go of Makoto’s hand and quickly tried hiding them in the pockets in his pants. Makoto, feeling the same in a strange way, did scratch his head with embarrassment. “So, umm, Hinata-kun, you do you want to chat after s-” A familiar tone ringed out throughout the building close to them, and the two boys immediately turned their gaze at the building known as Hope’s Peak Academy. The two were now late as all get out, even more so than they would ever be. Hajime automatically ran for the reserve course building, not really keen on hearing a tardiness lecture from his teachers, who were probably going to enjoy their free reign over Hajime since they never have any fun otherwise at the reserve course. Makoto, meanwhile, stood their waving bye at Hajime, staring at him with distant looking eyes. However, those eyes immediately snapped back into reality, and the hazel eyes then looked at the door to the main building as Makoto ran, tripping on a couple of stones here and there. If only those two knew of who they would meet, or what they would become.

[loserholland]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

𝟎𝟎𝟒 ➺ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

Pairing ➺ Teacher!Tom Holland x Single mom!Reader

Warning ➺  Bold text is the reader’s thoughts, flashbacks, fluff, someone new

Word Count ➺  2,783

Summary ➺  What happens when your five year old tries to set you up with her kindergarten teacher?

A/N ➺ Hey babes! Fun fact about little cupid (that no one may care about) but! Little cupid was originally supposed to be a one-shot, I had it sitting in my drafts for a year and finally inspiration struck and now it’s a mini series! I’m aiming for about ten parts or so.

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @taronxfiction @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou @babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr  @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos

@iloveyou3000morgan @random-things-i-love

*The strike through your name just means I couldn’t tag you, please message me if anything*

❤ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❤ @luvborhap @asianravenpuff @agusdoti @meg-holland @silverreading @agirlwithpointlessideas @bonita-juanita

☞  Masterlist  ☜

When your five and a half year old daughter tell’s you “Spare me no details.” should you be concerned or should you be proud of quite the use of vocabulary. 

“Spare you no what?” (Y/N) questioned moved around the kitchen fixing Audrey some breakfast, her parent’s had just dropped her off about ten minutes ago saying Audrey requested to eat breakfast with her mom.

“Details! Did you have a magical kiss under the fireworks?” Audrey sat on the edge of the island swinging her feet back and forth. She doesn’t hold back on questions huh? Audrey does this, thing. It’s like an interrogation, she’ll ask you a question and when you give her answer she’ll have a question for your answer.

“Bub, I don’t kiss and te-” 

The doorbell echoed Audrey looked over at the little monitor that rest in the corner of the kitchen showing camera’s around the house. Her eyes widened in joy reaching for her mother to help her off, “If you won’t tell me I’ll ask Mr.Holland.” (Y/N) looked over at the monitor to see Tom. 

“Audrey Brooklyn!” 

That would be the first time in a long while that’s she’s addressed Audrey by her first and second name, rushing after her to see she had already opened the door.

Tom looked down to see the Audrey, Tessa began to sniff and lick her causing Audrey to open the door even wider. (Y/N) smiled apologetically at Tom, “Sorry, she’s just being well Audrey. Come in.” Audrey walked away with Tessa to the living room, Tom shut the door behind him and followed (Y/N) to the kitchen.

“You forgot your wallet last night.”

The entire car ride back they’d had been talking about anything and everything, they had stopped by Taco bell for some late night cravings and (Y/N) had covered the meal. She must have forgotten to place it back in her bag.

“One of your craziest college memories.” 

Tom reached for his drink take a long sip to wash down the soft taco he was eating attempting to remember his college days. 

“My best mate Harrison and I made a bet, who ever scored the lowest on our psychology exam would have to streak.” 

(Y/N) stared blankly at Tom, this had got to be a joke. He did not streak, he did not let almost the entire school see his, well you know. Little Tom. She blinked at Tom a few times before bursting into a loud laughter, “No way. I- No!” Tom shrugged taking another bite of his taco.

“I could show you the video if you want.”

Now that’s solid evidence right there, but as of right now she wasn’t so curious about little Tom.

“No, no I believe you.”

(Y/N) took the wallet back giving Tom a warm smile, “Thank you. I must’ve forgotten to put it back in my bag, so sorry you came all this way.” Audrey waltzed into the kitchen with her head held high and Tessa walking beside her.

She walked up to Tom tugging at the hem of his shirt, (Y/N) watched her daughter’s actions carefully. She knew she was about to ask him something she knew she would have to say yes to. Sometimes she thinks Audrey is actually a twenty-five year old in a five year old’s body.

“Would you like to stay for breakfast Mr.Holland? Mom makes the best pancakes.”

Now here that sat eating breakfast, it gave (Y/N) this warm feeling. I guess this is what a family breakfast look’s like on a Saturday morning. Light chattered filled the air, stolen glances and hidden blushes. 

“Mr.Holland?” 

“Yes Audrey?”

Audrey looked between her mom and her teacher, she had two question’s for him. But she didn’t want to bombard him too quickly so she started off with a small question. 

“I turn six next Saturday and I’m having a birthday party here, would you like to come?” She swung her legs back and forth pouting lightly in hops that he’d say yes.

“I’d love to come thank you for the invite Audrey.”

She smiled with glee standing on her chair fist pumping the air, now to ask the question her mother was avoiding to answer for her. (Y/N) could see it in her eyes, she was about to ask her what she had asked about thirty minutes ago. 

“Did you and my mommy kiss?”

Tom choked on his coffee, his hand flew to his chest slapping it lightly as a rough cough passed his lips. (Y/N) glared at her daughter who stood there unfazed awaiting an answer. 

“W-what?” Tom chuckled awkwardly looking at (Y/N) with wide eyes then back at Audrey.

“Did you and my mommy kiss?”

(Y/N) sighed rubbing her temples lightly before mumbling “Yes.” a loud shriek filled the kitchen causing Tessa to stand from where she was resting, Audrey hopped off her chair and began to run around the kitchen.

“I’m a genius!” she shouted leaving Tom and (Y/N) to stare at each other blankly. 

What in the world is happening right now? 

Audrey was dancing with happiness running through her veins, maybe she had found her mom her lobster. 

“You found your lobster!”

Yup, she was spending too much time with Vivian. Vivian was (Y/N) best friend since high school, and well time’s when her grandparent’s were busy she’d spend time with Vivian and Brandon. Brandon was one of Audrey’s father’s close friends, but when he found out what he had done they two stopped talking.

“You’re spending way too much time with Aunty Viv bubs.” 

Audrey stopped in her place shaking her head no, “Nope I think we spend just enough time together.” she was quick and witty with comments. Is she twenty-five or five? 

“Mr.Holland can I bring Tessa out to the backyard?”

Tom gave the five year old a warm smile nodding in approval watching Audrey and Tessa exit to the backyard. (Y/N) sighed collecting their empty plates moving them to the sink, “I’m so sorry about that Tom. Audrey can be... well Audrey.”

He shrugged lightly Audrey is full of surprises, it’s just her question took him by surprise. How and why would a five year old think or even know about kissing? Tom moved to stand beside her picking up the sponge applying some dish soap and taking the dishes she had rinsed off and scrubbed it lightly.

“Tom you do-”

“Let me help you, thank you for the pancakes. Audrey was right, she is full of wonders.” 

(Y/N) sighed her gaze fixed on her daughter who was sitting in the shade with Tessa, she is full of wonders. 

“You don’t have to apologize for Audrey. She’s sweet and means well.”

Audrey looked up waving at to see they were standing next to one another looking in her direction, she waved with a big toothy grin. She just wants her mother to be happy. She also couldn’t help but wonder if her father was also coming to her big sixth birthday. He had missed all her birthday’s, maybe he would come to this one. 

“Fuck.” (Y/N) mumbled staring at the three positive pregnancy sticks.

You’re fucked, you’re more than fucked, you’re dead!

Vivian knocked on (Y/N) bathroom door, the two were in their sophomore year of college. What’s great about going to an instate college or university, you have a dorm and home to go back to. As of the past three weeks (Y/N) had been spending more time at home than in her dorm, she had been feeling sick lately.

Fuck, I’m screwed.

(Y/N) leaned against the bathroom counter allowing herself to slide down until she reached the ground, she had missed her period last week but thought it was just because of all the stress and sickness. 

“(Y/N)” 

I’m scared.

Vivian sighed leaning against the bathroom door, “I’m gonna call Brandon to break through this door.” (Y/N) got up weakly unlocking the door and swinging it open, she instantly wrapped her arms around her best friend sobbing lightly. 

What will my parent’s think?

“(Y/N)?” Tom called bringing her back to reality, she didn’t even realize she had walked Tessa and Tom to the door. “Will the party be here or?” Oh god, she made him repeat himself a few times due to her head not being there.

“Oh! Audrey go grab an invitation for Mr.Holland. Her godparents Vivian and Brandon are the party planners.” 

Audrey grabbed one of the invitations grabbing a Pen to write Mr.Holland on the envelope, she scribbled it quickly then ran back to the front door handing it to him proudly “Here you go!” Tom gladly accepted the envelope smiling at her handwriting. 

“Thank you Miss.Audrey, I’ll see you on Monday. I hope to see you on Monday as well darling.”

The five year old raised her brow in confusion darwhat? She shrugged it off watching Tessa and Tom off. Once her mom closed the door she followed her to the living room standing on one of the couch cushions.

“Momma?” 

(Y/N) hummed in response moving from the kitchen to grab her coffee then back into the living room. 

“I-Is daddy coming? To my birthday party this year?”

She tensed lightly, it’s been a while since Audrey last asked about her father. I wonder if he know’s how old she’ll be this year. I wonder if he ever tried to reach out to her.

“I’m pregnant.”

Please, please Alex. Will you help me?

Alex stared at her blankly, blinking a few times before snorting lightly “Very funny (Y/N). Now what do we really have to talk about? I have a party to plan.” He watched her facial expression tense at every word that left his lips.

Are you fucking kidding me? I’m pregnant and you think it’s joke?

“This isn’t a joke Alex.” 

(Y/N) watched his jaw clench his palm came in contact with the table, causing those who were in the café to jump at the sudden noise. (Y/N) pushed herself back at the sudden action, worry ran through her veins. She watched him leave the café in such anger, a few people stared before going back to what they were doing. 

“Momma?”

She looked over at her daughter blinking a few times, she did it again didn’t she? How was she suppose to tell Audrey? ‘I’m sorry bubs, your father didn’t want me to keep you but I did anyway’ or ‘He’s never tried to contact us bub.’ What are you supposed to tell your five soon to be six year old daughter their dad wasn’t coming?

“I-I don’t know sweetheart.” 

Alex placed the envelope that held twenty-thousand dollars onto the table pushing it towards (Y/N), by this time they had both told their parents and (Y/N) were quite supportive. Along with Alex’s parents yet, he took it on himself to make it seem as if his parent’s didn’t support. 

“Get an abortion, and we can go our separate ways.”

Is he fucking joking? Get an abortion? 

She had wanted to do it before. But after hearing the heartbeat she just couldn’t go through with the abortion/

“I won’t accept your money. I just want you out of my face and life.”

And with that, he left in a heart beat. 

“It’s okay if he doesn’t come again momma. I have you, grandma and grandma, along with Aunty Viv and Uncle Bran. Now I also have Mr.Holland!” 

(Y/N) felt her heartstrings pull at every word that passed Audery’s lips. It kills her when it comes around this time of year, the look on her face in hopes that her father shows. 

There are times when she felt selfish for not letting Alex see her once or tell him what the gender was. She tries to make herself believe that she didn’t see any of him in her. But there were times when she’d stare at Audrey and see little glimpses of Alex.

Is it selfish of me to feel this way? 

Soon enough Audrey’s sassy sixth birthday party rolled around, Vivian decided to hold it at her and Brandon’s house. The theme was unicorns, Audrey picked out every decoration, to food, cake, and goodie bags. I guess you could say she was planning her own birthday party. 

Tom entered the house signing his name in the birthday guest book, there was a balloon arch once you walked into the house it was made to look like a rainbow in the clouds. He continued to walk into the house following the light chatter. 

“Tom!” (Y/N) called waving him down with a warm smile, he felt his heart flutter at how beautiful she looked today. She placed her wine onto the marble counter top giving him a small hug, “Thank you for coming. Audrey is somewh-”

Speaking of the six year old, she came bursting into the kitchen screaming “Mr.Holland!” he kneeled down to be the same height as Audrey hugging her tightly. 

“Happy birthday Miss.Audrey.” 

He pulled away lightly handing her his gift, instead of buying toys he bought her books and crayons to write and draw in. Audrey was never really the type to have barbie dolls, she was more into toys who helped you learn.

“Thank you for coming Mr.Holland!” she took her gift and happily skipped to place in her pile of gifts. 

(Y/N) lifted her wine glass “Stella Rosa?” Stella Rosa was one of her favorite wines, she preferred it over beer or any other liquor. Unless she went out clubbing then she wouldn’t get wine. 

"Artois.”

Oh the other Stella, he was a beer guy.

(Y/N) opened the fridge grabbing him a bottle sliding it across the counter top and into his hands, she didn’t think he’d catch it but prayed he would or else Vivian would kill her. 

"Thank you for coming.” (Y/N) whispered glancing up at Tom for a brief second before looking away. God this is what third graders would do, too shy to look up at their crush. 

Wait what? Did I just admit that I have a crush on Tom?

His hand brushed against her’s, the same warm spark ran through his veins tinting his cheeks red. He took another swing of his beer before responding, I should be thanking you for allowing Audrey to invite me darling.” 

There it was again, Darling. God the way he says it with ease. 

Before (Y/N) could answer her mother entered the kitchen.

“Mr.Holland?” Mrs.(Y/L/N) questioned moving around to give him a hug “How are you? It’s been a while since I’ve picked Audrey up.” Ever since the family fun fair, (Y/N) was the one to pick Audrey up. 

“I’m well Mrs.(Y/L/N) how are you?” 

(Y/N) left Tom and her mother to talk in search for Vivian. She had something, well someone  to take care of, but didn’t say who. Instead she scurried upstair dragging Brandon with her. 

She turned the corner to see Vivian standing in the door way talking to someone outside, “Viv?” (Y/N) questioned walking closer to see who she was talking to. 

“Viv.” she repeated tapping on her shoulder lightly.

Her best friend gasped loudly jumping at the sudden touch. She turned on her heels to see (Y/N) her eyes widened in horror. Vivian turned her gaze to Brandon to see he was still trying to convince the last person on earth she’d want to see to leave.

“(Y/N)!” 

Brandon turned to see (Y/N) standing in the doorway, the way her face just dropped along with the glass of wine she had in her hand. It looked as if she saw a ghost, she stood there in shock. Unable to say a word.

Tom had excused himself when he heard someone shouting (Y/N) name, he could see the pieces of glass near the front of her heels. Making his way over to her allowing her to step back from the glass, “Darling, what’s wrong?” he questioned searching her eyes to see tears blurring her vision. 

(Y/N) looked at Tom then at the person she never wanted to see again. This has to be a dream, of all times he could choose to waltz back into her life why today? Of all days today?

“Momma! Let’s go eat!” Audrey whined marching over to the adults, she stood beside her mom tugging at her dress lightly. Vivian scooped Audrey into her arms. 

She tilted her head in confusion staring at the man who was being held back by her uncle Brandon.

“Aunty Viv, who’s that?” Audrey spoke causing the Stranger to smile pushing pass Brandon to stand a few feet away from the entrance.

“Hey Audrey, I’m Alex.”

Don’t you dare say it, you have no right to say it.

“I’m your dad.”

[aplaceforthesoul]

this past year my mental health been going down the drain, im sad constantly,i starved myself for 3 months last year without anyone ever finding out (im ok now, or at least getting better) and no one knows about any of it. and i know if i told anyone they would tell me to get help, but im scared. i dont want people to know about my mental health spiraling out of control. today the smallest thing just kinda finally broke me today. i was home alone and i went to get a spoon and im not sure why but

for some reason it just broke me. i broke down. and had a zoom meet w/ a teacher 30 min from then so i had to pull it together and pretend like it was ok. ive been pretending so much that i get scared everytime someone asls me if im ok. i alsways think was i not smiling enough. on top of it even though ive stoped starving myself i still weigh myself daily and hate my body. im also just tired of dealing with shitty "friends" people who are oxic, people who have me up all night thinking of our arguments. i havnt had a good nights sleep in weeks. i just dont know how to trust anyone anymore. im a mess and im scared for people to find out about my mental health, oh and im a lesbian and my family doesn't know so thats a fucking nightmare. they would be fine with it but my mom would tell everyone so im scared to tell her. i have no one to talk to. only one person knows a little bit about my mental health. only the toxic people she knows about. im scared if i tell her to much she'll worry and try to get me help. and i know i need it but i dont want people to know. i always told myself once i get to college ill get a therapist and i won't have to tell anyone. i just need advice, please

it’s like being stuck between a rock and a hard place I suppose, both options in front of you suck and you don’t like either of them )-: on one hand we have the rocky hard option of getting help, but that option might make your skin crawl because you feel so anxious and on edge? but the other option is to keep quiet and not say anything, and you feel just as shitty and miserable. I get the dilemma, I really really do. 

however...as someone who cares about your health and your mental well-being, as someone who’s removed from the situation and has a different (and maybe slightly more objective) perspective on things? my best suggestion, is to start talking about things and to get help. why should you wait until college for a therapist? 0: that’s a serious genuine question, what is the benefit of waiting? why make a choice to spend more time than necessary being in such a dark, lonely and isolating place?

I can’t even begin to imagine how mentally exhausted and drained you are at the moment, what you’re having to deal with (the disordered eating thoughts, the fear around being lgbtqia, the lack of sleep, being constantly sad and feeling like you have to fake it) isn’t something that anyone should have to try and navigate alone. 

if you don’t want to tell anyone that you’re lesbian? then you most certainly don’t have to at all, that information is yours and it’s not harming anyone if you keep quiet. when you choose to come out is 100% up to you, don’t feel bad if you have to “hide” that from certain people, your sexuality is your business and no-one else’s.

everything else though, the sadness and the self esteem and disordered eating thoughts and the lack of sleep as a result of toxic friends? that’s definitely something to talk to someone about, that’s worth seeking help about. it’s not going to be easy!! I won’t lie, it is going to feel intimidating and you probs are going to feel naked and vulnerable at times, but it’s fucking worth it. once you move past feeling vulnerable, you feel such a sense of relief at getting it off your chest! honesty + communication are your friends, not enemies. you could even write a rough draft and send it to us if you like, before you talk to someone? we’d be happy to give our thoughts if that’s something that could help you feel more confident about what you’ve written. 

if you like you can talk to your mum then go for it, or maybe this other friend who knows a bit about what you’re dealing with at the moment? but if not then there’s lots of other options, this post on the blog has more info on that. also? start to distance yourself from ‘friends’ who aren’t healthy and good for you anymore. you might not be able to choose your family, but you can choose your friends! and if these ‘friends’ make you feel negative and sad and upset, if they don’t listen to you or value you or show that they like being around you and appreciate you? then they’re not really worth having as friends anymore. they’re not exactly fundamentally terrible people, just not the right people to have in your life now. 

start making yourself a priority, put yourself and your wellbeing and your mental health first! if you’ve got shit friends then stop talking to them and involving them in your life, focus your energy on getting a good nights sleep (more on that here), make lots of time to take care of you. a problem shared is a problem halved, if people know then people can help you and that’s a good thing. keep me updated on things lovely, all the best <3

- tash

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: vi

shh, this is very therapeutic.

part v/AO3.

Lucy gets through the next several weeks mostly on autopilot. There’s spring break in there somewhere, but she doesn’t really notice, since she spends it working anyway. Her dissertation is inching toward the final finish line, though she still has to write a conclusion, put together her bibliography (which will be an absolutely torturous process of going through the whole thing and copy-pasting every footnote – why hasn’t someone invented a better way to do this yet?) and add her acknowledgments: places she went for trips, foundations who gave her scholarship money, people she’s collaborated with, that kind of thing. Most of it is straightforward, but when Lucy gets to the personal section, where people thank their parents, significant others, grade school teachers, supervisors, etc., she stares at the screen until it goes out of focus. Ordinarily she’d write, Thanks for everything, Mom and Dad, no problem at all, but how can she do that now? Thanks for everything, Mom and Henry Wallace, except for never telling me who my biological father was? Thanks for everything, Mom, but Benjamin Cahill, why?

Lucy leaves that part undone, just adds Amy for now, and finally pushes back her chair and lets out a hoarse war cry of victory, punching the air with both fists and startling the nearby students. She emails it to her supervisor, Dr. Kate Underwood, with the triumphant subject line FIRST COMPLETE DRAFT!!!!, then cleans out her carrel with something probably akin to what a new mother feels, when they finally hand her the baby after the sweat and strife of labor. Not that Lucy’s interested in kids, at least for a while, but still.

She sleeps like the dead for the entire weekend (her neighbors are actually still being quiet, and she certainly isn’t going to tell them that she’s probably never going to see Flynn again) then gets up and goes off to her final review meeting with Dr. Underwood on Monday. Most of the changes she suggests are small, though there’s one part of the last chapter that she pushes Lucy to do a little more with. Nothing outside her usual corrections, but since that was the chapter Lucy was dramatically interrupted from writing with the Weekend of Total Insanity, it triggers something in her. In one of the more embarrassing moments of her life, she bursts into tears in Dr. Underwood’s sunny office, as her supervisor looks bewildered, gingerly hands her Kleenex, and finally asks if everything is all right.

Lucy figures that last-minute nervous breakdowns are far from uncommon for PhD students just about to submit, and there’s a ready-made way to play this off as just that, which she more or less does. There are student counseling services that she could probably make an appointment with, though they’re busy enough at crunch time that it would be another few weeks until anyone saw her. And she just can’t picture sitting across from some graduate-student psychiatrist-in-training and actually making sense of this. Has the usual feeling that she doesn’t need to burden people with her first-world problems – “starving kids in Africa syndrome,” one of her friends called it. This is a little more than ordinary, perhaps, but still.

Having promised that she will have the changes in by next Monday, Lucy confirms the date for her oral examination, six weeks from now, and realizes that she has no idea what she will be doing for that time, aside from sleeping and bingeing on TV shows. Her work is done, she has class to finish teaching but only two days a week, and her schedule gapes perilously wide open. She isn’t good at sitting around and doing nothing; can manage maybe a week or two, then she starts feeling that she needs to be productive. Another gift from her mother. She never let Lucy just veg out during the summer as a kid. She had to be doing an extracurricular, or preparing for a AP exam, or off at Young Achievers Camp, which is exactly as nerdy as it sounds. She’s not sure she even knows how to rest.

Once Dr. Underwood has sent her off with advice to get some sleep and feel proud of her accomplishment, Lucy staggers out into the world beyond Stanford like Rip Van Winkle. It’s a nice day, warm and summery and almost difficult to remember that that whole ridiculous seventy-two hours ever happened, and she pauses. Then on a sudden impulse, she digs out her phone and scrolls through her contacts. Hits call, and waits.

Wyatt Logan picks up on the last ring, sounding slightly breathless. “Hello? Lucy?”

“Hi. I’m sorry, is it a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine. What’s up? Are you all right?”

“I. . . yeah, I am. I just. . . finished my dissertation, actually. And I thought if you were in San Francisco, maybe we could meet up and grab a coffee, or. . . or something?” Her heart flutters in her throat. “Just, you know, to catch up?”

There’s a slightly awkward pause. Then Wyatt says, “I’m, uh, I’m back in San Diego, I’m based out of Pendleton. And I promised my wife we’d go to the beach today, or whatever.”

“Your w – ” Lucy can feel her cheeks turning the color of a fire engine. “Oh my God, I didn’t – I really wasn’t – of course. No, no, of course. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

“Yeah.” Wyatt coughs. “Congratulations on finishing your dissertation, that’s an amazing accomplishment. Nothing else weird has happened recently?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. Maybe they’ve given it up.” Lucy knows this is too easy, but she wants to think so. Likewise, she both does and doesn’t want to ask. “Have you heard from Flynn?”

Wyatt hesitates. “No. I called back to the hospital a week later, they said they let him out, but I have no idea where he went. Probably off the grid. I would, if I was him. There’s an APB out, anyone who sees him is supposed to call it in. Whoever Rittenhouse is, they’re still very, very pissed.”

Lucy struggles to take this in. On the one hand, it’s good news, of a sort, that Flynn somewhat recovered and was released from the hospital, but was this because he was ready to roll again, or because he didn’t want to take the risk of lying there waiting for his enemies to show up? There are a nearly unlimited number of ways that they can kill him in a hospital and make it look like an accident, after all. If he is officially persona non grata for a lot of powerful and high-ranking people, and he’s hurt, that doesn’t sound like a good combination. Maybe he’s fled the country, gone up and crossed into British Columbia and hidden out somewhere in the Canadian Rockies. Lucy reminds herself that either way, she shouldn’t care. Whatever the hell his actual feelings on her might be, he made himself clear.

“Thanks,” she says, after a too-long pause. “Let me know if. . . well, whatever happens, all right?”

“Do my best. Congrats again on the dissertation.” Wyatt clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Lucy echoes, cheeks still hot, and hangs up rather quickly. Well, that was a disaster. She should have known that the only guy she’s even attempted to ask out recently was unavailable, though there’s a cute-ish geek with glasses who smiles at her whenever he sees her in the coffee line. Lucy thinks his name is Alan. But not even for the principle of the thing can she really work up any desire for a closer approach. After a final moment, she fishes her keys out of her purse, heads to her car, and tries to decide if 280 or 101 will be more congested at this time of day. She ends up taking the latter, despite the unpleasant associations of recent escapades on it, up to Amy’s apartment in South San Francisco.

Lucy turns into the complex, parks, and heads up the steps to Amy’s place. She rents it with two of her friends, one of whom is named Sage Tranquility and the other of whom is usually getting arrested at protests. There’s plenty of room at the Preston house in Mountain View, it’s not like Amy had to move out, but she’s always butted heads with their mother far more than Lucy has. Said that she would rather live in a shitty apartment, away from Carol’s domineering and constant questioning about why she’s doing this sociology degree and wasting her potential, and build something that was hers. Lucy doesn’t know how much she should tell Amy, but she is the only person she feels like confiding to.

Amy opens the door a few moments after Lucy’s knock, her headphones around her neck still emitting the echoes of her music, but she pauses it at the sight of her sister. “Hey, you. What are you doing here? Aren’t you still working on your dissertation?”

“No, I just finished it. Just. Hey, are you doing anything right now?”

“No. Come in.” Amy frowns. “You don’t seem super jubilant, Luce.”

“I. . . have a lot on my mind.” Lucy blows out a breath. “I’d kind of like to talk.”

Amy agrees, gestures her in, and goes to fetch some cookies from the kitchen, before they got to the secondhand futon, Amy sits down, and beckons Lucy to put her head in her lap. “Okay,” she says. “So talk.”

As Amy gives her a head rub, which feels heavenly, Lucy closes her eyes, tries to find somewhere to start, and can’t think of any way to do this delicately. She teeters and stumbles at the edge, then finally comes clean about Flynn, about Rittenhouse, about Benjamin Cahill, about Wyatt, about everything. That it turns out they’re only half-sisters, that Carol has lied to them – to her – her entire life. That her real father is Corporate Darth Vader, and all of this. . . all of this. . . she’s slowly losing her mind, and has just squashed it down and put it away to concentrate on finishing. Now that’s done, and she’s. . . here.

Amy stays quiet as Lucy talks, until she finally chokes up and can’t finish. Then she grips Lucy’s shoulder hard and says fiercely, “We’re sisters, all right? We’re sisters. I don’t care what Mom did or did not tell you, it doesn’t change anything. We’re just the same as we’ve always been, and nothing is ever going to take that away from us.”

“Thanks.” Lucy’s voice remains stuck in her throat. “I just. . . this has been a lot.”

“Shyeah.” Amy reaches over her for a cookie, breaks off a bite, and dangles it above Lucy’s mouth like a zookeeper feeding the seals. Lucy manages a weak laugh and snaps it up, as a sigh shudders through her from head to heel. They remain in silence for several more moments, until Amy says, “So, this Flynn guy. You have feelings of some kind for him, but he’s a complete emotional disaster, not to mention possibly on the run from the feds for God knows what or where or why. Accurate?”

“I don’t – ” Lucy opens and shuts her mouth. “I wouldn’t say I have feelings feelings for him, he’s – I don’t really – ”

Amy raises one eyebrow. “Now who’s being the emotional disaster?”

Lucy feels as if this is rather unfair – she’s here sharing her problems and trying to work through them like a grownup, even if, yes, she did repress them for several weeks beforehand and hope they would go away. “I’m not the one who set my phone passcode as the day he saved my life, then told me not to fool myself that he wanted to see me again and basically vanished off the face of the earth!”

“Fair.” Amy considers this. “But you do feel something.”

“He saved my life. Twice. He did endanger it the second time, but. . .” Lucy stops. “Maybe there was something between us, or I believed a little too hard in fate or design or whatever. I could have been imagining it, but. . .”

“But you don’t think you were,” Amy completes. “He just blew it. Super hard. Complete buffoonery.”

Lucy snorts. “Remind me why I bother with men again?”

“You could always date another lady,” Amy points out. “I liked Carine.”

Strictly speaking, this is true, and does have a certain appeal after the recent overabundance of testosterone in Lucy’s life. But she dated Carine Leclerc, a journalism student from Montreal, for eight months in her senior year, and while Carine was making noises about looking for jobs in California after she graduated, it stalled over the fact that Lucy never got around to introducing her to Carol. It wasn’t exactly a secret – Amy knew, her friends knew, they went to a pride parade, there were pictures – but Lucy never talked about it directly with her mom. It wasn’t the queer thing, exactly. Just that whenever Carol discussed Lucy’s future, it always seemed to involve a husband and kids. Not because of any awe or reverence for the patriarchy – Carol gave both her daughters her own surname, rather than, apparently, either of their fathers’, and was a women’s studies professor for many years – but, well. It just did. And while you can obviously have a family by non-traditional methods – adoption, fostering, surrogacy, whatever – Lucy somehow didn’t get the impression that was what her mom had in mind. The kids just seem to be part of it. It’s why, although she’s not really had any enthusiasm for the idea now, she’s subconsciously penciled it in for five or eight years in the future, once she’s presumably met Mr. Right. Lucy has all kinds of arguments with herself over whether that makes her a bad feminist. But because it’s what her mom wants –

“Oh, God,” Lucy says hoarsely. She raises both hands to her face, then drops them. “You’re right. I really have let Mom dictate my life, haven’t I?”

The expression on Amy’s face clearly says, no duh, although she charitably refrains from uttering it aloud. Instead she says, “I still think you should have followed through on that band thing. At least it would have shown her that you can stand up to her.”

“I – no, that was definitely a bad idea, I’m glad I didn’t.” Lucy is still Lucy, and thus cannot believe that she ever treated the prospect of her education so frivolously. “But maybe if I went over there now and confronted her about Cahill – ”

“You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“What? You’re always the one telling me to push back against her more!”

“Yeah, I know.” Amy chews on a thumbnail. “But this is more than about just that, isn’t it? From what you said about Cahill, it sounds like he’s mixed up in some pretty skeevy shit. I give Mom a hard time a lot, but maybe she did have a good reason for separating us from all that. Are you sure you want to know?”

“If they come back, I should at least know the truth.” Lucy rubs at her tired eyes with her fingertips. “I’d like to think they just gave up, but I’m not sure. Maybe if I tell her that I know, it might help clear the air.”

Amy gives her a probing look. “And are you going to tell her about Flynn?”

That catches Lucy short. She wants to say that she will, that if she’s demanding or even requesting honesty from her mother, she should be prepared to return the favor. But something – she doesn’t even know what, not quite what it was with Carine – gives her pause. “Why would I?” she says feebly. “It’s not like anything actually happened.”

“Aside from him turning up and you two going on a three-day joyride that ended with him getting shot and telling you to go piss up a rope.” Amy’s tone is more or less lighthearted, but her expression is serious. “That’s definitely something that happened.”

Lucy opens her mouth, then shuts it. She reaches for the last cookie and eats it, partly to give herself an excuse not to talk, then brushes off the crumbs and gets to her feet. “Well, if I am heading over there today, I should get going before the traffic gets too bad. I should at least tell her that I finished.”

“Because you’re hoping she’ll finally tell you that she’s proud of you?” Amy glances up at her. “You know you did a good job even if she can’t choke it out, right?”

“Of course I know.” Lucy manages a smile, picking up her purse. “See you later, Ames.”

Her baby sister hugs her, not without a final look, and Lucy lets herself out, heading to the parking lot and getting into her car. She drives down to the Preston family home in Mountain View, the attractive four-bedroom ranch house on an affluent, leafy street where Lucy grew up. Worth a tidy chunk of change if Carol decided to downsize, since it’s currently just her living there, but she has held onto it. Not good at letting go of things, Carol Preston. It is only in the last few days that Lucy has realized just how much, and it saddens her.

A light is on in the kitchen as Lucy parks by the curb and gets out. She heads up the front steps, noting that the plants could use some watering; it’s not like her mother to let things droop, or look anything less than perfect, daughters or azaleas alike. This is her house as much as anyone’s, and yet Lucy stands there for a long moment, feeling as unwelcome as a door-to-door salesman or friendly local Jehovah’s Witness. It feels as if she finally got here the way she was intending to do seven years ago – before the accident, before nearly dying, before Flynn, before Flynn’s reappearance, before Benjamin Cahill and Rittenhouse, before everything that’s brought her back. She tries to rehearse words in her head, questions, justifications. Nothing really occurs to her.

Lucy swallows hard, and rings the bell.

It takes a bit before she hears footsteps, and then Carol Preston opens the door. She looks down at her eldest daughter in surprise, or perhaps confusion. Something about her seems as off, less than pristine, as the drying flowers, and her makeup is slightly smeared, though Lucy can’t imagine her mother actually crying. “Lucy,” Carol says. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been finishing my dissertation.” Lucy twists her fingers together anxiously. “I – I did finish, by the way. Just today. Dr. Underwood gave me her final changes, Dr. Gardener in anthropology still has to look it over as well, but he’s at a conference until Friday, so that will take a little longer. But – yeah, it’s done, I did it.”

“I see.” Carol considers, then steps back. “I think we should talk. Come in.”

Lucy follows her mother inside, wondering if Carol’s guessed somehow, if Cahill came by to creep on her as well or ask why she never told Lucy the truth, and feels absurdly guilty for causing more trouble. She almost starts to apologize, though with no idea what for, and a tiny, ridiculous part of her half-hopes that Flynn will be sitting in the kitchen, somewhat recovered if doubtless no more tactful, come by to ask Carol what she knows about Rittenhouse. Which seems like a bold move, given that he’s a wanted fugitive from the government, but reality doesn’t have much to do with Lucy’s thought process just now.

Nonetheless, it comes crashing back in in a cold, sobering wave when they step ins. There’s a piece of paper lying on the counter, and Lucy can’t see the wording, but it looks clinical. Hospital. Carol turns it over as Lucy tries to get a better look, then says, “Tea?”

“No, it’s all right, I was just over at – ” Lucy stops. “Mom, is… is everything…?”

“I went to get that cough checked out, like you wanted,” Carol says, after a slight pause. “And, well, the scan turned something up in one of my lungs. They’re going to run more tests, they can’t be sure, but there’s a possibility it’s malignant.”

She says this like the professor she’s been for thirty years, explaining a difficult fact with her usual classroom voice, and so it takes Lucy a moment to understand. Then she does, and it feels as if the world has gone out from under her feet. “M… malignant? As in cancer?”

“Yes.” Carol takes a deep breath. “I suppose it’s not entirely unexpected – your father was a heavy smoker, after all, and I never picked up the habit until I met him. I stopped when he died, of course, but if this does come back positive…”

Part of Lucy wants to inform Carol point-blank that she knows Henry Wallace isn’t her father and never was. The rest of her wonders how awful you have to be, to confront your mother about that when she’s just told you that she might have cancer. “I – I, I’m so sorry,” she stammers, once more as if this is her fault, has not gotten the right score on a test or has whined about never having summers off. “Mom, I’m sure it’s fine, but if – ”

“But if it’s not?” Carol looks at her levelly. “I know we’ve had a bit of distance recently, Lucy, but this is the sort of news to put things in perspective. Of course, there’s medicine, there’s chemotherapy, there’s options. We don’t know anything yet. But if the worst-case scenario does come to pass, I really want to make the most of whatever time I have with you. There’s still so much I need to teach you, to talk with you about.”

Yes, Lucy thinks, there is. But any urgent desire to force answers to all her questions has vanished in her flood of guilt and fear and concern. “Of course, Mom, of course. If there’s anything I can do – and I’m sure Amy too, we’d both be happy to – ”

“I’m not sure about Amy.” Carol sighs. “But if you have finished your dissertation, like you said, and therefore don’t need to be at campus every day… I’ve seen that apartment of yours, Lucy. It’s terrible. Is there any way you might consider moving back in? We would be closer here, we’d be together. It would be easier, and if I did get sick…”

“No, of course. Of course I’ll move back in. Absolutely, you don’t have to worry about that at all. My lease on campus runs through the end of the school year, but – ”

“I’ll pay your early termination fees.” Carol takes Lucy’s hand. “I really want us to be together again. Believe me.”

“Me too,” Lucy says in a rush. “But – if the test did come back clean – if you’re not really… well.” She can’t bring herself to utter the name aloud, speak of the devil and he will appear. “If you’re not… sick, do you… will you still want me back?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t I?” Carol looks hurt. “Do you think I only love you when you’re useful? You are my daughter, my eldest daughter. So much like me, my historian. You’re so bright and you’ve worked so hard. Of course I want you back.”

Lucy opens and shuts her mouth, then reaches out, and Carol wraps her arms around her, pulling her close, as Lucy rests her chin on her mother’s shoulder and has to struggle to blink back tears. And so, within ten minutes of going home with the intention of some final confrontation, some ultimatum or insistence on separating herself from Carol’s trunk, Lucy instead cleaves back in, root and branch, and promises that she will never bring it up again.

There really isn’t time to arrange a move – even a short-range one – between the last-minute rush of dissertation edits, job applications, and graduation plans, and Lucy’s apartment has a few pitiful half-full boxes sitting around, which she will toss things into when she remembers. She feels like a terrible daughter, which is not helped when Amy calls her up at the end of the week and wants to know what happened to telling Mom off. “You know how she is, Lucy! Even if – God forbid – she was actually sick, doesn’t this seem a little…?”

“A little what?” Lucy challenges. “Are you really going to accuse our mother of faking possible lung cancer just because she wants – I don’t know what, something?”

“I didn’t say she was faking,” Amy says reluctantly. “I’ve been worried about her health too. But Mom has a couple nest eggs, you know she does. If it got to the point that she needed a live-in helper, she could hire someone who actually knew what they were doing and would get properly paid for it. That’s not your job. You’re not that kind of doctor.”

“I know.” Lucy shifts the phone to her other shoulder. “But – look, I know what we talked about, I know what we said. I just don’t think this is the right time to bring it up.”

Amy doesn’t argue with her again, but Lucy can sense that she still isn’t pleased. And yet, all of that goes out the window when Carol calls them both and says they should come by, there’s something she needs to tell them. That doesn’t sound like the kind of invitation that ends with “and nothing’s wrong, the doctor said I’m fine,” and indeed, it doesn’t. The biopsy results came back. It’s cancer. Carol’s prognosis isn’t terrible – they caught it before it was already irreversible – but it’s not particularly great either. The words fifty-fifty chance are used. A lot will depend on how she responds to treatment.

Amy starts to cry – she and Mom have fought a lot, but they do still love each other – and Lucy puts an arm around her, feeling numb. It feels crass to ask for any graduation celebration, even if she’d like one. Suddenly, even applying for jobs is up in the air. Lucy doesn’t want to complain about being inconvenienced by her mother’s serious illness, but she was so ready to start her own life, do something else, stretch her wings, and now she’s back in the birdcage, throwing away the key. It just doesn’t seem (and she winces at the thought) fair.

Lucy finishes the rest of the revisions recommended by her second supervisor in a blur. At the last meeting before this three-hundred-page monster is sent off to the committee for reading and to the printing service for binding, Dr. Underwood mentions that she’s been in contact with the history department at Kenyon College in Ohio. Kenyon is a small liberal arts college, upper-tier and avant-garde, and while it would unfortunately mean living in Ohio, there is currently an opening in the faculty for a junior lecturer with almost exactly Lucy’s research specialty. Dr. Underwood has passed her name on, and the people at Kenyon would like to speak to her next week, if that works.

Lucy’s first reaction is delight and disbelief. Tailor-made opportunities for academic jobs at places where you would like to work, and that are looking for your research interests, are as rare as the proverbial rain on the Sahara. She’s thought for a while that she’d like to teach at a small liberal arts school, one of the places that doesn’t think SAT scores are a good measure of academic performance and give a lot of focus to student development – somewhere in the Northeast, maybe. Sarah Lawrence, Vassar, Middlebury, Wellesley, something in that vein, the usual schools described as “diehard liberal” by U.S News and World Report in their college rankings. Stanford is obviously Stanford, but it takes a lot of work not to get lost in the machine, and plenty of students who come through Lucy’s classes now are clearly just checking elective boxes and playing on their laptops during lecture. At a place like Kenyon, she could actually talk to them more, have smaller and more immersive seminars, supervise senior projects and have more of a say in shaping the department. Have that exact chance to make it her own, rather than following in predestined footsteps.

At that, however, something catches Lucy short. She remembers Benjamin Cahill essentially promising her that he could get her any dream job she wanted, anywhere in the country. Is this Rittenhouse’s clever new strategy? Realize that the face-to-face approach backfired bombastically, and take a more subtle approach, pull some strings and call in some favors so this fat juicy worm just happened to land on the right hook? Would she move there and find herself surrounded by their people, or expected to pay something substantial back?

Asking Dr. Underwood about this, however, just makes Lucy sound crazy. She doesn’t mention anyone by name, but she delicately probes whether anyone just happened to call up and offer this, and if so, why. Dr. Underwood is puzzled, says that no, this has been in the works for a while and it just happened to time well with Lucy’s completion. Due to someone who knows Dr. Underwood, who supervised so-and-so’s thesis, etc. – not the creepy Rittenhouse networks of patronage, but just the usual byzantine channels of academia – Lucy currently holds right of first refusal on the job. If she turns it down, they’ll shop it more broadly, but assuming she doesn’t completely bomb the interview, buys some winter clothes, and is all right exchanging Palo Alto for Gambier, it’s hers if she wants it.

“I…” Lucy hesitates. “My… my mom was just… she was actually just diagnosed. With cancer. She wants me to move back in and spend more time with her. I don’t know if I could justify going to Ohio instead. That’s the exact opposite of what she wants.”

Dr. Underwood hastens to offer her sympathy, and appreciates that this is a difficult decision for Lucy to make. However, while she knows family commitments are important, ultimately Lucy needs to think about what she wants from her career and getting established and so on. If Lucy does decide to stay in California, there will probably be several teaching opportunities at Stanford for her, and she’ll submit papers to journals and attend conferences and the rest of the rigmarole that it takes to be a Professional Academic ™. It’s not necessarily the wrong thing to do. But Dr. Underwood thinks Lucy should consider the Kenyon job carefully. She knew Carol when they were both faculty in the department, knows what kind of personality she had, and maybe it’s not the worst thing for Lucy to go.

Lucy nods and smiles, even as she wants to go somewhere private, put her face in a pillow, and scream. At least the damn dissertation is done, exam date is firmly set, no more of that, no more, praise Jesus, NO MORE. She picks up her bag, swings it to her shoulder, and heads out of Dr. Underwood’s office, riding down the elevator and stepping out into the foyer. As she does, she collides with someone coming the other way, and starts into the usual apology. But as she does, she catches a glimpse of the face under the hat, and freezes. Reaches out to grab at his jacket sleeve, her voice a hiss.

“Flynn?”

Garcia Flynn has not been having the greatest week. Or two. Or three.

He stayed for six days in the hospital, being cared for by a doctor named Noah who was entirely professional to all outward manners and appearances, but who kept shooting him looks out of the corner of his eye that made Flynn suspect the worst. Either he’s a Rittenhouse agent, or he used to be some sort of gentleman acquaintance to Lucy, and Flynn would almost prefer the former. At least that way he could kill him without anyone being too upset about it.

Of course, and regretfully, killing is off the table, at least for the moment. At least for Flynn himself, as he’s fairly sure that Rittenhouse has authorized everything short of public beheading to apprehend him, and which was why he decided that he was no longer going to trust to the dubious safety of Santa Rosa Memorial and the judgment of Noah. . . whatever his damn last name is, Flynn hasn’t been arsed either to find out or remember it. So he checked himself out against medical advice, gave a fake name and address for the bill (the American health system is a racket anyway, and technically he’s supposed to have insurance – yes, the NSA does offer dental) and left the rental car in the garage. It’s too conspicuous, and he has bigger fish to fry than whether he is blacklisted by Enterprise in the future. They can take it up with John Thompkins, later.

After which, Flynn rode a Greyhound (yes, it’s as miserable as you’d think, especially when you’re six-foot-four) to some shithole Inland Empire city, somewhere in California close to the Nevada border where nobody goes if they can possibly avoid it, probably still riddled with decades-old radiation from the Las Vegas test site. Rented a room in some motel that definitely has one filled with haunted clown dolls, laid low, gingerly tended his raw wounds with over-the-counter antibiotics and sutures, and was forced to admit it was a good thing he did not die of septicemia. He hasn’t succeeded in coming up with a new plan just yet, as it’s clear that he’s been cut off from the usual channels with extreme prejudice. He has kept his old phone with the NSA numbers, but keeps it switched off and hasn’t used it. He can’t risk calling Karl to see what he did, or did not, know about the Wyatt Logan fiasco.

And so, Flynn grimly considers his options. He can try to throw together another fake identity and go to Canada, or travel on his real name back to Europe and hope they haven’t gotten Interpol on this, or just lie here in a motel room that might literally be the manifestation of hell on earth, with air conditioner that barely works in 25-plus Celsius heat and a stain that looks like a murder victim on the carpet. If Rittenhouse is after him, no holds barred, he may just be able to avoid their notice if he stays, especially for a man whose professional tradecraft is disappearing. And yet.

The more Flynn thinks it over, the more he can’t account for everything going sideways as fast and as comprehensively as it did, unless Rittenhouse was plugged into the whole thing almost from the beginning. They must have multiple high-level operatives across several branches of government, focusing on the ones you’d expect – CIA, NSA, FBI, Homeland Security, whoever’s stealing your personal information these days – but by no means limited to them. They could be salted through every level of middle bureaucracy (he wonders if all DMV and IRS workers get an automatic membership) and beyond. It sounds ridiculously, relentlessly paranoid, like that prizewinning intellectual who insists that the Royal Family and other leading British celebrities are all secretly lizard people. But given what Flynn saw at the gala, Cahill and his powerful, well-connected, wealthy friends, this also might not be entirely off the ranch, and that means he has to do more digging. Where?

It takes him a bit, but he recalls what Lucy said to him at their first (well, first real) meeting. Something about David Rittenhouse, who Flynn discovered to be a famous eighteenth-century astronomer and professor at the University of Pennsylvania, and asking if he founded it. Flynn doesn’t know the answer to that question, but it seems to strain credulity that the man it’s literally named after has nothing to do with it. It also is not a given that Rittenhouse’s secret archives are housed somewhere at UPenn, but there are several things named after the man in Philadelphia. It’s not entirely implausible.

That, therefore, is where Flynn is faced with the final part of the plan. It’s going to be hard enough for him to get in as it is, what with the Take Dead or Alive order they probably have out on his head. But if he didn’t appear to be attached to it – if it was just an innocent research visit from an up-and-coming academic who would have plenty of legit business with UPenn’s history collections on colonial America, and he just so happened to appear –

Flynn is well aware that this is quite a reach. That it’s dangerous, that it’s unfair, that he doesn’t really have any right to ask it, given how their last parting went, and what he said then. That she has any number of things to do right now, and none of them necessarily involve dropping all her work and heading cross-country to pick up, again, the world’s most demented and dangerous scavenger hunt with him. No sir.

He checks out of the motel and hops a ride with a trucker the next morning.

As they stare at each other for a very long and very excruciating moment, all Lucy can think is that he shouldn’t be here. Rittenhouse could have been watching her from afar, guessing (correctly, apparently) that she will prove too tempting a target for Flynn to resist contacting again. Maybe this is the moment they jump out and dogpile them both, or – or –

Lucy hesitates only a split second before tightening her grip on Flynn and dragging him around the corner into an unused classroom. She bangs shut the door behind them and leans against it, legs trembling. “You need to get out of here.”

“You just shut me in.” Trust Flynn to have a smart-aleck response readily at hand, as he watches her from under hooded eyes. “We would need to try reversing that first.”

“Just be quiet.” Lucy clenches her fists, fighting a brief urge to slap him. “Did anyone see you?”

He shrugs. “It’s a public university, I imagine they did. Nobody who seemed to recognize me, though.”

Lucy blows out a breath, getting the table between them just so there will be something to prevent her – or him – from anything intemperate. “You’re such a bastard.”

A hard, sardonic smile glimmers in the edges of his mouth. He seems unruffled by the accusation, almost even pleased. He does not bother with small talk, explaining where he’s been, or why he said everything he did in the hospital. (Don’t fool yourself that I want to see you again. . . this is my war, I don’t need you and yet, lo and behold, here he is. He’s a disaster.) Instead he says, “Did you finish your dissertation?”

“Yes,” Lucy says, curt and unwilling. “I have a lot going on, a lot, so why don’t you just – ”

“Is there anything else you can pretend to be working on?”

“What?” Screw the table, she might want to do something intemperate after all. “Why?”

His eyes remain on hers, cool and unswerving. “I need your help.”

[felixeslee]

92 q tag

hello this tag is highkey irrelevant now but it’s been in my drafts for ages so !! laskdgjasodigjsaldkgasodigjasdg which is why i wont b tagging anyone bc im so late but !! yeah !! ok !! !!!!!!!!!1111!!! lets !! go !!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

tagged by @hyuunjins @hyunjinh @straykiz and @dae-hwee from my w1 blog (lmaoo hi pindi this is sarah!! AIddgsdfk if youre aware of this blog but hope its ok if i do it here alskdg ) 

rules: once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 92 truths about you. At the end choose 25 people to be tagged. 

🌙 LAST

Drink: the water that I drank this morning!! Aka around 12 hrs ago asdgasdgoij pls stay hydrated kids 

Text Message: i texted my brother if he knew where my dad was lol,,,,,,, sldkjgaosidgj 

Phone Call: CALLED MY BROTHER BC HE WASNT RESPONDING MY TEXTS,,,,, he also didn’t pick up ldskgjsoidgjsldkgsjdg

Song you listened to: Goodbye My Love by Aileeeee <3 lovv 

Time you cried: TODAY ,,,, i was getting super anxious bc i didn’t know where my dad was ??? he was supposed to pick me up but he forgot abt me until like an hr later… sldkgjaosidgj 

🌙 HAVE YOU EVER

Dated someone twice: no :00 lmao i’ve never dated… ever alskdjgaoijsdf 

Kissed someone and regretted it: i havent had my first kiss yet HEH 

Lost someone special: unfortunately, yes :( 

Been depressed: sdgksjadoiglskdfosdijgalskdfaosdigjaksdgoaisdjf idk 

Been drunk and thrown up: lmao i’ve never drank ,,, at all,,,, the smell of alchohol scares me,,,,, evn my little brother has had a sip once and he’s 5 yrs younger LMAO ,,, but im a noob and don’t wanna try sldkgjosidjgs 

🌙 IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU

Made a new friend: yay yes yeslgkdgsdf

Fallen out of love: i dont think i’ve ever evn been in love…. Sdlgksjdoigj 

Met someone who changed you: yes,,,,,,,,, 

Found out who your true friends are: uhhhh idk aslkdgjaosidjf i honestly can never tell when someone’s being a fake friend so!!!!!! Idk honestly lmao

Found out someone was talking about you: i did ! but it wasn’t for anything bad or anything……… they just criticized me behind my back?? But i agreed w their criticism so alsdkjgaosidgj  

🌙 GENERAL

How many people on tumblr do you know in real life?: ummm,,,, like 4?? We r mutuals evn though none of them r actually kpop blogs,,,, so i always feel guilty spamminig their aesthetic feed w my screaming tags and annoying shit LMAO but i lov them <3 

Do you have any pets?: NO :”( I WANT A DOGGO THO …. REALLY BAD…..

Do you want to change your name?: uhhh ik so many sarahs its not evn funny and my last name is hella basic too????? Theres 3 ppl that share my first+last name in my school alone….. So maybe i’d change it to my chinese name (yue) ?? also bc it sounds more sophisticated,, and i lov anything that makes me sound smarter than the reality of my dumb self LOL 

What time did you wake up this morning: LOL so my alarm rings at 6:40 but i get out of bed at 7:10 SLDGKJSODIF … and i need to get out of the house by 7:20 lsdkgsdoig 

What were you doing last night: physics and apush :SLDGJOSIDFJ the 2 most dreaded classes UGH

Something you cannot wait for: DINNER .. i love me some gud dinner

Have you ever talked to a person named tom?: thomas jefferson my mAN 

What’s getting on your nerves right now: when it’s so heckin cold i can’t concentrate + i hate taking notes when it’s cold??? Bc then my hands r like half numb and it HURTS WHEN I TAKE NOTES sldkgsoidjf ALSO WHEN I DRAW ,,,,, STIFF FINGERS R THE WORST WHEN DRAWING

Blood type: i think a????????????

Nickname: my most common ones r swisso + salad (i promise these make sense in context LOL ) 

Relationship status: return NullPointerException; //im a cs person,,, dont judge

Zodiac sign: capricorn!

Pronouns: she + her

Favorite show: i dont watch many shows but i love watching a gud studio ghibli movie when im feelin down

College: this QUESTION LSDKGJSODIGJ ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i wanna go to college but will any accept me ??!?!

Hair colour: its naturally black but it’s currently dyed ombre from black → brown !!!!!!

Do you have a crush on someone: i havent had a legit crush in 3 yrs lmao……. 

What do you like about yourself: the fact that im a deep sleeper. Idk how light sleepers function omg like wouldn’t u wake up to like,,,,, everything??! :((( that makes me sad bc u hav no idea how much i lov a nice long undisturbed slumber

   🌙 FIRSTS

First surgery: okAY so like i've had 2 procedures done on my eyes lmaooo like (1) when i was a smol beb of like 1 yr old i rolled off my bed aaaannnnddd the corner of my eye hit the edge of the sharp corner of the bedside table!!! and then y1ke$ things got ugly loll (((yes, i wuz dum + clumsy since the day i popped from the womb))) its all stitched up now and i hav a tinie tinie scar aslkdgs okay and (2) there was something weird abt my tearducts LOL so u know when u get sad nd stuff ur nose gets runny and u sniff a lot??? well like that wasn't the case for me bc the passage way from my eyes to my nose was completely blocked off,,,,, which resulted in me lookin like i was full blown cryin like every 2 seconds... like if i kept my eyes open for too long my eyes would get watery and tears would flow out LMAO ,,,, i looked like i just never stopped crying,,, but it was just my eyes were just ALWAYS WATERING sdlgjsdif damn u have no idea after the procedure i was like 'do ppl live like this??? not having to wipe tears every 0.2 sec??? oh my god,,, i am livin THE LIFE' 

First piercing: i hav no piercings!!! Bc stabbing holes thru myself scares me sdlkjgsoidg but i love the way earrings look tho so :///// 

First sport you joined: dance or gymnastics???? I dont rly remember

First vacation: CHINA prob???? 

First pair of sneakers: i think sketchers LMAO ,,, the big thing  

🌙 RIGHT NOW

Eating: nothing!!!!!

I’m about to: do som sketches for my AP art class 

Listening to: my dad sing som old chinese folk stuff behind me LOL 

Want kids: i already adopted all 9 members of stray kids tho ??? idk if im ready for more atm 

Get married: LOL This question just reminded me of smol story from my childhood: so like i used to b rly close w these 3 other kids,,,, one other girl and 2 guys,,, and our parents were all rly tight too,, and our four families would just go camping together and it was rly :’’D fun and so we all made a pact that I would marry one of the guys and the other girl would marry the other guy and we’d all go camping together forever but then KINDERGARTEN HIT,,,, we moved schools and yeah im still rly close w the girl but i miss the 4 of us dkgjsodigjsdlkgsdf LOL 

Career: waterbottle 🌙 

WHICH IS BETTER

Lips or eyes: eyes? Eh idk i just never rly considered lips ?? LOL 

Hugs or kisses: hugs? I dont hav experience w kisses so sldkgjsoidgjsd yike syikes yikes 

Shorter or taller: TALLER

Troublemaker or hesitant: uhhhhh neither??? Like i just want someone playful + extroverted bc im quite introverted,,,,,,,,,, so if he was hesitant we’d just b super awkward and quiet,,, and i don’t like getting involved w sketchy troublemaker shit either LOL ,,, 

Older or younger: as long as they r in the same school grade level,,,, and i guess 1-2 yrs older is okaY? But lowkey freaks me out if too old 

Romantic or spontaneous: sldkgjsoidfj both? Like i lov someone who is unpredictable and spontaneous,,,, but on the other hand im lowkey a helpless romantic lasdkgjaoisdjf 

Sensitive or loud: both i guess too??? Its good to have someone understanding and sensitive but also someone who knows how to have fun  :) 

Hookup or relationship: hookups,,,,,,,, just dont make sense to me,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, like i get attached to someone p easily so even if i dont plan on being attached,,,, i’d probably get attached :(  

🌙 HAVE YOU EVER

Kissed a stranger: YIKES no 

Drank hard liquor: nO 

 Lost contacts/glasses: UH I HATE THIS BUT YES….. 

Sex on first date: yikes * (6.02 *10^23) adkgaosidjgaslkdf no thaNK you 

Broken someone’s heart: i dont know,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, like i might’ve but maybe im just not aware ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, but on a sidenote i think my old comupter science teacher gets a migrain everytime he sees me LOLLLLLL sdlgjsoidgjsldf 

Been arrested: no,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, :0 

Turned someone down: yeah lmao i kinda feel bad tho bc they were all good ppl,,,,  lskjgosidjf but thankfully im still good friends and pretty tight w all of them ~  

🌙 DO YOU BELIEVE

In yourself: ocassionally i try to :’’D

Miracles: lol yes 

Love at first sight: i used to ? but not anymore,,,, like i believe u can be attracted to someone at first sight ?? but i feel like love cannot be attained thru visual contact only asldgjoasidjalsdg

[onceabluemoonwrites]

for the new ask game for writers, 17, 22, 40 and 42?

Thanks for the ask, Anon!

17. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

Usually about 500 words- If I’m on a roll anywhere from 1k to 1.5k, though I’ve written more occasionally, of course. This is talking solely about writing fiction, of course. I write a lot of emails to teachers, and other school-related work.

I don’t write every day- I like to if I can, but life gets in the way and school’s very demanding.

Luckily, my writing skills help out at school too :D

22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?

‘’Drafts’’ in this case means the number of times I go over it while still willing to change around entire scenes/ part of the storyline. I always do this at least once for everything I write. Beyond that, it depends on the fic.

For example, I went over my Assclass ‘’Viper Tresses (Gorgon Gorgeous)’’ fic only twice, while my Free fic  ‘’Sirensong’’ (a Mer AU, or a finfic, as @i-w-p-chan and I like to call it) had so many revisions that I lost the count after 25. I could’ve revised that one forever, probably, but at some point, I told myself I wasn’t allowed to anymore. I was happy with the end result regardless, so I suppose it was okay anyway XD

40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why?

Both! :D

I’ve been writing for almost all my life, and stories are a part of me so deeply engrained I can’t tell you where they begin and I end. I began writing original fiction, and while I write way more fanfiction these days, I’m still working on those stories too. Next to that, I write a lot of poetry, both original and fanfiction.

The poetry I’ve got posted, currently: ‘’Blooms of Blood and Bones,’’, an SNK poetry collection, currently featuring three poems.

‘’A Little Vision of the Start and the End,’’ can be considered free verse poetry, it’s an SNK deity AU which features Eren as Hope and Levi as Strength (and Hanji as both Intelligence and Madness, and boy, I had fun with that!). 

Then there’s my KHR fic Just Smile! Which can also be considered free verse poetry and features the KHR girls and emphasizes several things related to sexism (including Bianchi being told to smile, Chrome being anti-social and Kyoko being a ruthless criminal. I want to portray the many shades we are, and so this was born. In the future, there will be a Reborn and a Dino chapter to lampshade gender roles, and the sixth chapter will be my beautifully terrifying Adel telling all the sexism to get out of her face or she’ll make them get out of her face by force. With a side helping of 0027, of course ;D).

Then there’s my absolute baby- my HP fic ‘’Heading Straight for the Castle,’’ which incorporates both prose, poetry and story-telling inside the story which just… It’s my thing. It’s very much my thing, especially when it’s a medieval AU with Ginny as the protagonist and Storyteller!Harry.

42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.

In fanfiction I mostly just take book description/movie appearance and then give my own twist to it- it tends to grow a little different/change a bit over time as I add headcanons and they grow in my head into people.

In my original work- My first ever story came from a dream. I don’t remember how long ago I had it, but I think I was about three/four? It stuck with me. I began making stories out of them, and the minute I learned to write, I began writing them down. The characters were ridiculously perfect, and their appearance changed over time (as did their names. Six-year-old me wasn’t all that great at picking out names).

As to my more recent original stories- usually, their personality creates their appearance, or their appearance creates their personality. This does not mean, by any means, that they ‘’match’’ but more that they create a whole together.

I hope I could satisfy your curiosity a little! More questions are always welcome!

[limpblotter]

Piece of Cake

Warning: ...cussin and waste of food, also unedited(raw draft) a/n: oneshot drabble, jam fluff. Getting those writing juices flowin’ Summary: high school au/ hamilton w/c: 3733

“Why the hell are we here?” Alexander groaned, he ran a hand down his tired face. He started to think back at the series of events that led him here. Where was here? Sitting at a long table for two in a Home Economics class. There were various cooking tools, bowls, a sink and small two burner stove top oven...and there was his partner. The bile began to rise up his throat and threatened to force a gag out of him. He glanced over at the purple bomber jacket wearing, big haired, facial hair on fleek idiot beside him. His partner sported a face of immense disinterest, his eyes on his phone as he scrolled with his thumb.

“Because you’re a fucking idiot who got us kicked out of Creative Writing.” Thomas responded with a hiss, he didn’t look up while he spoke to Alexander, he didn’t want to look at the face of the guy who placed him in this bullshit elective.

Honestly that was not how he remembered it going down at all. What he remembered was signing up for the Creative Writing class with his friends Aaron and Gilbert. His best friend John Laurens wasn’t a fan of writing and took on Aquatics as his elective. Alexander was more of an academic, though he tried his hand in sports. He was fairly good at wrestling but found it hard to maintain the proper weight/height ratio to stay in his class. He decided to follow Aaron in a more relaxed subject, one he knew he was well versed at as well. As for Gilbert...well he was in it because Mr. Washington was teaching the class.

Alexander only expected the best of the best to be there, Angelica Schuyler's little sister Eliza was taking the class, as she did the year before. It was highly recommended after that. Alexander expected James Madison the kid who skipped two full grades to be there, he seemed to enjoy writing as well. What he didn’t expect was Thomas Jefferson to be there. Apparently he was some kid that moved away then moved back or some weird drama. He was popular when he left and even more so when rumors flooded in that he and Angelica were dating. 

Not. True. He wasn’t a fan of someone who just waltzed into school like that. Alexander wasn’t popular...he tried and he was popular among his close friends. Most people found him annoying, the kid who got in trouble and still managed to get the grades. Kid who never shut up and pissed off nearly everyone. It took a certain kind of person to put up with him. “Maybe if you didn’t start talking shit I wouldn’t have thrown my book at you.” Alex growled back, remembering clearly that in the middle of his discussion, Thomas had clearly leaned over to Madison. He looked right at Alex and laughed right at him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, still not giving Alex the benefit of meeting his eye contact. “Please, you don’t even know I was talking about you and even if I was, someone who talks as much shit as you should be able to take it.” The dislike was mutual. Thomas was not a fan of popularity in the sense of having people flock him. He liked being admired from afar. Little knew but he was quite awkward around too many people, often leaning on the moral support of his friends like Madison. Alexander threw him off balance. He was boisterous and impossible to ignore, more importantly he brought out an ugly side to Thomas that no one had seen before.

“I can take the shit talking!” Alex yelled, earning a hush from their new elective teacher. Of course, it was bold face lie. Alexander could deal out some of the rudest, wittiest insults but the moment it was directed back at him he flew off the handle. In his mind, he had to have the last word, the last say, the last insult no matter what. He was in the middle of a great discussion when Thomas interrupted him. Sure throwing his book across the room and taking out Madison instead of Thomas was a bad idea. It would have been well worth it if he had hit Thomas instead. “No one told you to return fire…”

“You fucking socked James in the face with your book and gave him a nosebleed.”

“I said I was sorry.” Alex crossed his arms.

“After you complained about how your shot would have been perfect if it wasn’t for his, and I quote, ‘bulbous air brained head’” Alexander smirked to himself, it was a good time to use his word of the day. “Now thanks to you, James is stuck in the nurse’s office and the only other elective I get is Home Ec, stuck with you.”

The fight didn’t go over well with George. Who, as much as he loved Alexander as a student and a person, wanted him to learn a little restraint even when it came to those he had trouble tolerating. Alex felt personally attacked. He was Washington’s favorite, he was the cool new kid that everyone befriended. Then the ‘legend’ Thomas Jefferson, rich, snobby, basketball player comes back and everyone is up in arms. Angelica and Lafayette were apparently his friends first, George missed him since he coached the team. Even Aaron Burr spoke highly of Thomas. It was sickening. “Whatever lets just get this over with.”

The bell rang and Mrs.Adams began instruction they were to make a dish  that reminded them of home. The deep sentimentality made Alexander’s stomach churn. He had been through various foster homes, hopscotched around so many times the past was just a blur. That was another internal lie, he purposely tried to keep his past in the past. He looked over at Thomas. He was from the South or something, he remembered hearing that stupid twang in his voice. He probably wanted to make fried chicken or something. They were suppose to work together, other groups already started brainstorming while Thomas started taking out pots from the cabinet.

“What are you doing?” Alex watched as Thomas silently began to maneuver around him.

“I’m going to make my comfort food.” He answered, “Be a doll, and get me some cheese from the fridge.”

“This suppose to be a team thing, we didn’t discuss what we’re making.” Alex ignored his instructions. Thomas rolled his eyes and went to get the items himself. Fine,if that was how he was going to play it. Alexander went to the back and grabbed a large, clear, cylindrical container of ground up coffee.

He returned just as Thomas was filling up a pot with sink water. “What are You doing?”

“I’m going to make my comfort food.” Alexander echoed in a mocking voice, it was hard to mock Thomas’s voice. It was low and rumbly but not at all gritty. It was...smooth and low, like dark chocola--

“We can’t make two different foods, we can only turn in one.” Thomas glared as Alexander popped the container open and started measuring out a few cups of ground coffee. “Coffee isn’t even a fucking food, you dunderhead.” 

“Doll, now Dunderhead, what are you fifty?” Thomas was old fashion, his tastes were dated and so was were his insults apparently. “Hm, then I guess whoever finishes first gets to turn in our assignment.” Alex mused watching Thomas’s dark eyes narrow at him. They shared a silent moment, which was rare, nothing but glares and shallow breathing before they broke away and furiously went to cooking. Racing to be the other.

Thomas turned and dumped all of the pasta in the water before it was boiling. Alex went and started practically throwing cups of flour into the bowl with his coffee. A puff of flour rose from his bowl and dusted itself onto Thomas’s jacket sleeve. “Fucking watch it slob.” He tore off his jacket and revealed intensely toned biceps and a tight tshirt that hugged his wide chest. Alexander clenched his jaw unable to repress the small wave of shock. Thomas felt eyes on him and looked down. Alexander was glaring a hole into Thomas ‘s arm. “Take a picture, it lasts longer” He purred.

The shorter student felt a rage. The same violent rage he felt when he heard Thomas laugh at him. That stupid, soft, bell like laugh that was warm and light, completely contradicting what Hamilton assumed his laugh would sound like. With no book to throw and no time to waste, Alex eyed the open bag of flour that was between him and Jefferson. In midmix he elbowed the back and watched it flop over all over Thomas’s side of the table. “Whoops.” Alex smiled, the flour trickled off the side of the table down to Thomas’s fancy oxfords.

His southern attitude shined as he sucked his teeth and rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Thomas kicked off some of the excess flour from his feet and looked over at Alex. He waited until he was measuring cups of milk and just as he began to Thomas nudged his arm causing him to spill out of the bowl and onto himself. “Whoops~”

“You, fuckin’” Alex turned and was met by a flour covered hand smearing the white dust all over his face.

“Good look for you, Hamilton, ever considered wearing makeup to cover up those baby hairs on your chinny-chin-chin?” Thomas smirked, insulting the only thing that kept the strangely rosy, baby faced Hamilton from looking overly feminine. Thomas went back to stirring the pasta now that the water was now in a rolling boil. Hamilton angrily wiped his face, getting only some of the flour off his skin. He looked down at the batter he was making and smirked. “Thomas…” Alexander cooed, sickly sweet. Falsely sweet but it sent a strange sensation down Thomas’s spine. He turned his head cautiously and noticed Alexander was still covered in flour. Ha. He smirked but it started to fade when he tried to read Alex’s expression. It was soft, no smile, cheeks flared. He was slightly disarmed, long enough for Alex to lean forward. Thomas’s nervous and awkward tendencies started to shine as he backed up, slightly gawk like expression in his eyes. Hamilton, confident as always, got so close their chests bumped. And fast as a whip, Thomas’s well maintained facial hair was slapped by Alex. He felt a wet, goop on his face. “I think coffee cake batter is a good shade for you.”

Jefferson frantically shoved Alex aside, his bowl in his hand, as he hogged the sink. Alex lost control of his bowl and his batter went flying all over the floor. Thomas ran out water over his face. He made quick work of the cake mix before it made him break out.

A livid Alexander who’s “hard work” was now splattered on the ground walked over to the sink. He pressed his thumb against the faucet hole and the water pressure exploded as a stream of water aimed at Thomas’s wild, mane like hair. “You missed a spot”

Thomas shook his head, his curls now hung low heavy from being dampened. “So did you!” He grabbed Alexander by the collar and held him up a few inches off the ground. “BOYS” Mrs. Adams glared at them. “I hope you two have your dish done in the next thirteen minutes...or else you will both not only be failed, it will be a trip to Principal King’s office!”

They gulped in unison. Thomas didn’t want to visit the principal, his parents would skin him alive if he got in trouble and risked missing a game. Hamilton couldn’t risk hurting his college bound future with a failing grade… Slowly Thomas placed Alexander down and sighed. “Look lets just do something, anything…” 

“Well coffee cake is out of the question.” Alex sighed. Not like he was any good at making cake.

“Ew who puts coffee in a cake?” Thomas wrinkled his nose. “My mac and cheese idea is so much better.” “I forget my partner has the tastebuds of a child.” Alex only ever saw Thomas eat carbs and cheese. His palette was almost as stupid as Thomas’s love for the color purple. His tired eyes darted behind Thomas to the pot on the stove, it was foaming and overflowing behind him. “Yeah i don’t think your dish is going to work out either.”

“Shit!” The southern boy spun around and turned off the stove. The pasta was painfully over cooked, now they were both out of luck. “Crap...now what? We can’t cook something in eleven minutes can we?” He looked at Alex who was rubbing his finger under his chin. He looked deep in thought, pensive, those eyes framed by sleepless bags never really looked tired. They had a bad frame around them, in truth, Alexander’s eyes (in Thomas’s opinion) were wide awake. Intelligent browns that were hyper focused to any and all tasks at hand. Shame, those bags made him look lazy and lackluster. Thomas blushed a bit realizing he had been thinking about Alexander’s eyes. The moment of admiration was fleeting as Alexander turned and started pacing towards the pantry. “Hello? Earth to Hamilton do you have an idea or what?” Jefferson waited but got no response. He groaned and followed behind Alexander as he searched the dry ingredients shelf. “Hamilton, you being quiet is unnerving so speak we have 11 minutes to make something that doesn’t cause food poisoning.” 

“No bake Cheesecake.” He muttered. Thomas didn’t catch that, Hamilton turned around holding a box of graham crackers. “We’ll make a no bake cheesecake. I saw it once skimming on Facebook. It was one of those tasty videos.” “You watched a Tasty video?” “No, I skimmed it but I got the gist.” Alex pouted as Thomas facepalmed in front of him. “Look you have cream cheese, we have whipped cream and no time to actually bake anything, you want to fail fine but I’m going to do something about.” He marched off. He didn’t need Thomas’s help. He’d pull both of their asses out of this mess, he was not going to fail a class and ruin his chances in an Ivy league school. He started cleaning some space when suddenly a hand came out and stopped him. Their skins met and Alex felt a jolt so strong he made him flinch back. 

Thomas stared down at him, his cheeks slightly red “what can I do?”

How strange, Thomas was being helpful? Subservient? Alex could get use to that look on his face. The awkward, unsure shy look he wore, the blush, not to mention he looked pretty nice with his hair wet and hardly as fluffed up. He was hot when he wasn’t peacocking around. “Grind up the graham crackers, I’ll soften the cream cheese and melt the butter.”

Silence came over them, they worked...well together. Alex found it strange Thomas was silent...then again when Alexander wasn’t around him Thomas seem quiet. After all he was friends with James Madison the sickly and silent type. He didn’t think they had long conversations. They had knowing lookings and that...he envied. He didn’t know anyone that could figure out what was happening in his mind long enough to figure it out. Even his closest friend was lost when it came to what went through his mind. Hamilton watched as Thomas used a rolling pin to bound the crackers as fast and finely as possible. He was...strong. The table shook with his pounding, Alex watched that bicep flex and his heart sputtered like a failing car. It took him a moment to restart his mind, and slowly he went back to working the cream cheese with sugar, whipped cream making a thickened mix. 

Once Thomas was done he grabbed a cake tin and walked around Hamilton. “Watch your back.” He whispered in a low voice closer to Hamilton’s face. Alex’s ears started to burn with color and heat. Thomas reached over Alex’s shoulder, his large arm pressing up just a bit against Alex’s face, grabbing the container of melted butter. Without being told? Alex was impressed. He, absentmindedly, leaned into the arm and felt a sudden urge to close his eyes. “Uh…” Thomas slowly retracted his arm a bit and arched his eyebrow at Alex. “Alright then. You should look into sleeping.” 

“I don’t sleep.” It wasn’t by choice. Thomas chuckled, soft and not sarcastic, were they getting along? No but at least they weren’t biting each other’s heads of. “I’m sure turning off your mind is near impossible but you should at least try cutting down the caffeine.”

“Are you worried about me, Jefferson?” Alex turned his head and there was a silence. “No.” Hamilton rolled his eyes, “crust is done.” “Thanks.” Alex poured the mix in and popped it into the freezer for the rest of the time they had left. “Well now it's up to the fridge.” “I’ll start praying.” Thomas shook his head. “Oh yes, please pray to the Southern Cake God” A questionable believer like Hamilton could only scoff at him. “I don’t pray for miracles.”Thomas smirked, “I’m praying not to fail.”

Hamilton and Jefferson went back to awkward silence. How strange silence came when they couldn’t fight. As if they only knew how to speak to each other when it was meant to hurt. After a while Thomas spoke again, his eyes on his phone, scrolling. “I wasn’t laughing at you.” Alex had his head down, catching some rest as they waited as long as they could. “Excuse me?” “In Creative Writing, I wasn’t laughing at you.” Thomas had put together why Alex had his outburst. He couldn’t believe that Alexander was so sensitive when it came to his performance but it was the only logical conclusion. “I was showing a video to James.” “So why were you looking at me WHILE you laughed?” “Because I was also paying attention. Some of us can manage two things at once.” Thomas shook his head. “I listen to all your stupid discussions. Insightful or not.” Jefferson shrugged, keeping his eyes down on the screen of his phone. Alex blinked...a small smile formed on his lips. So he was heard. Thomas thought he was insightful? Thomas might have only meant at times but Hamilton knew he was always insightful. And Thomas Jefferson paid attention to him…

Mrs. Adams started making her rounds, Alex pulled the cheesecake out of the fridge and placed it on their table. “Well...mess and your little mishaps aside...this looks promising.” She took a slice and jotted down a grade. She placed a ‘B’ on their sheet with only the comment ‘Next time actually cook something’. “Not my usual, but I’ll take it.” Alex sighed in relief. He sliced a piece for himself and started to dig in. It was theirs after all. He chewed, knowing well he probably shouldn’t, when he felt eyes on him. Instantly he glared at the pair of judgmental black eyes...instead they were disarmingly curious. “Want some?” Thomas silently wrinkled his nose and Alexander could almost read his mind. “Stop being a baby, it's cheese, you like cheese. And it's cake, everyone loves cake.” He shook his head, Thomas pouted a little still silent and somewhat surprised Alex was reading him so easily. “Try it and stop acting like a child. It’s a B grade cake. It won’t kill you.” “It -- “ “It won’t.” He interjected not letting Jefferson finish. He took some on a spoon and started making train noises towards him. “Say ah, baby~” Both of them froze for a moment. Alex swore it was more insulting in his mind...He squeaked when Thomas’s large hand gripped his wrist tightly. He leaned in, keeping Alex’s hand steady and opened his mouth. His full, plush lips wrapped around the tip of the spoon and slowly slid off leaving nothing on it. He chewed, then nodded, licking his lips slowly. Thomas’s eyes were on Alex, while Alex watched Thomas’s slow tongue move around his lips. “Not bad, Alexander.” He nodded, “We make a decent team.” Working with Jefferson wasn’t so bad. Alex would say it was even…

[disarmingly]

fanfic asks (part 1 is here! feel free to send the other numbers tho at this point i lost track im sorry lmfdslfjdskfdskfdlsjl)

2 [ things that motivate you ]

i think this is likely true of most people who make things for public consumption and that's honestly…when people respond to something we make? whether it's a comment or the notes on your bookmark or a message or an ask or a dm on twitter or anything just saying 'hey i read this i liked it' or something in the same vein (more or less a nice thing is a nice thing!) i touched on this with the last set in number 27's answer on the last set.... where i refer to kindnesses as a currency. to be clearer, i write fic to explore ideas for personalities i am already in love with whether characters from an era or canon images or, more likely, a hybridization of the two (plus extrapolations) and also stories/theories that appeal to me but also MEAN a lot to me and in doing so i hope will mean something to others. i write it to connect (i am a broken record but it's what it is isn't it ^^) and sort of see if the way that i think and process can in fact be translated to other people. to see that it can, here and there, is immeasurably important to me. 

i have always wanted to be one of those people who can self-motivate but i find more and more that the truth is i very much look to other peoples' approval and responses, and perhaps that will always be the case, which i suppose means i have to just keep working harder and honing the art as best i can -- give or take. i hold comments close, asks, messages, all of that. i screencap them because i'm afraid the eternal internet will fail me ^^;;; and sometimes people remove t hei r bookmarks or whatnot so like…um i'm glad i screencapped them ^^;;; and there was one twitter convo where the nice thing they said was so far back i couldn't see it anymore ;_; so lol i'm glad i screencapped that too….a-and now u all know i am crazy T////T hahikesduiojklefdsiojk OTL s-seriously though. have i said before i think sometimes people have a natural baseline? i said it in 'below zero' but outside of that i mean…so a good thing a tangible thing when i am below zero (often) ends up being…many things to me. i'm grateful even if i fail to fully harness people's generosity to the extent i ought to.

5 [ since how long do you write? ]

mmm…since i stopped drawing entirely so like hum… /squints/ /rubs chin/ /rubs head/ ahhh like i guess i really started wholly focusing and shifted from visual to verbal in my last year of middle school! ^^;;/ but i wrote fiction primarily at the time because i had a dream of writing a book that would stay with people the way my favorite books have stayed with me. weirdly i am only now able to write narrative for fanfic and otherwise all my original writing is poetry…which is significantly less relatable for people and has such an unforgiving set of standards that i mostly have lost hope for making my way in that area, though i still produce material.

9 [ do you set yourself deadlines? ]

mmm not hard deadlines. i can't trick myself that way per se. but i can trick myself by being like mini deadlines so a paragraph a morning or something of that ilk? i'm very flow-by-flow so hard deadlines are just lolololololol however, i do have friends who work very well within the stricter parameters of a due date; basically your mileage may vary, but for me it works best to say: try to have something complete by the end of a 30 day period, and then to adjust along the way i.e. i clearly won't have this done by 30 days at least get the first draft done. etc. OTL i'm so wishy washy ;_;

36 [ one-shot or multi-chaptered story? ]

NERVOUS LAUGHTER RUBS MY EYES uiojrlekfsdiok i do better when i do one-shots i am like shudders at my multi-chapter ideas but fall down lightly began more as a vignette series and oops got a narrative in real time my MISTAKE because i know everything that happens but have basically made myself so nervous about it i've been staring at the next real chapter for five thousand years. it just doesn't seem good enough ;_; lololol so for the sake of not releasing something that is a waste of time for other people to look at i….haven't. it's a verse i love and i want to complete because I KNOW HOW IT ENDS LMFALKFJD and even what happens along the way but like lololol /stares at my hands unhappily/ ljldskjfs ah well anyway though one-shot i do trust myself more with. because when it's done/posted? it's done. barring revisions ^^;; (and typos T_T;;;)

39 [ do you want to be published some day? ]

the dream ;_; ah. i don't delude myself thinking i could ever make money doing what is most important to me…poetry is not largely a money making facet of the writing industry and even the ones that are real jobs aren't very um…whatchacallit um……huh….productive money wise? not that that should be my focus but i always dreamt if i made a lot of money i could give people lots of things and stuff…which…i always wanted to do… 

._.;;; i digress. but like to get poetry published would be nice. to be accepted a little in that way would be nice. but even honestly if i started releasing it online and people liked it that would be enough for me at this point. i had a teacher who once said to me: your real strength lies in essay writing, you should change your track. and it has been hurting me ever since haha. i don't like writing essays. i HATE it. same goes for journalism. all of which i avoided despite being told 'it's what you're good at'….i …is it weird to say poetry is what i love even if i don't love my own writing? i want my writing to be better and i'll try to keep doing it regardless but that really…ah it's funny how one thing can be a shadow isn't it? long answer OTL I apologize ;_; but like…so yes. i would love it. it feels impossible but … it would be….it would be nice.

42 [ do you plan or do you write whatever comes to your mind? ]

i do both. it depends on the story. sometimes it is literally both for one story and sometimes i run out the gate with the exactitudes and it is what i think it will be (mostly). save me was a combination. follow was precisely as i planned it and so was sidereal. fall down lightly i know the exacts of what happens but not how i want to convey them so there's that. this time around i knew exactly. time and again i had all down in notes so i do know what happens but again not how i verbalize. call and answer was PAINSTAKINGLY planned help me lmdlskfdsj…..as was so far away. dearly beloved was a moment, begin was inspired and stream of consciousness -- as was one thing and balancing act. ;; i'm not very one or the other i suppose…. T////T

44 [ do you write linear or do you write future scenes if you feel like it? ]

like 42 i am both. it depends. i wrote save me as you read it but i literally hop around time within it so i'm not sure if question means that or if i write it all out linearly first??? in which case no??? but only because weirdly if i plan to hop around in time for a story it's best if i do so in real-time as i write it or i lose the rhythm i wanted to actualize for the story's feeling and resolution/end-point. i have notes all of the time too about things i haven't paragraphed out so like…if that is part of the answer….

47 [ how many unfinished ideas/stories are you working on at the same time? ]

o_o;;;; w-well my drafts folder is divided into two parts -- one is complete drafts that need looking at again and one is unfinished works entirely, if you want the final headcount of both it's lolololol

71

rest in pieces me….

._. nowaskmehowmanyaresugakookie lmfdslkjfs no don't. mostofthem. andsomenamkook. lolololol…….helpme…

as with the first asks, thank you for reading. thanks for talking to me and taking an interest. i feel boring and anxious and very sporadic and like too weird/???? like really awkward lame???? but i do like talking about writing...even if i feel...also rambling rambling rambling.....granted these were shorter bc i wanted to do them before i had to run ^^;;;  if any of them need elaboration i can be clearer!!! a-anyway /shoves paper bag over my own head/ …./w-waves gratefully as scurries to the train!!!!…..

also gosh i might've taken too long but …butterfly anon….your message…has been helping me survive this week…ah…i replied longer to your message in a previous post but like.../mentions again…. T_T;;; it's been really….hard…haha…so thank you t_t