#so i emailed the teacher to let her know I’d accidentally

[tinylint]

Put Down Your Roots - JH

Pairing - Hoseok x y/n

Summary: Y/N moves to Korea for a short-term teaching program with HYBE, teaching trainees about American history and culture. Not only is her trip funded by them, but she is soon dating Jung Hoseok and now that his career is feeling established and comfortable he is ready to settle down. But will y/n be willing to put down roots in Korea? It’s straight up romantic fluff.

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I’d been planning on this for a long time, and I’d been looking forward to this for a long time, but now that I was actually in Korea I was absolutely terrified.

I’m young and untethered and now felt like the perfect time to just go for it and teach overseas. It’s early in my career and I am not established yet as a teacher in any specific school or area. If ever there was a time for adventure it was now! I didn’t want to teach English and I didn’t want to teach in an American school, and amazingly I found a job that was teaching Korean students about American history and culture that specifically wanted me to teach in English. It was ideal and the fact that I got it seemed a miracle.

It wasn’t until I started the onboarding process of my new job when I realized who my employer was: HYBE. And the Korean students I would be teaching? Kpop trainees. How did this information slip past me while I was applying and interviewing I will never understand. But the fact that I would now be employed by the same company behind BTS was definitely giving me heart palpitations.

Thus moving to this new country, for a new job, with a new company, and in potentially the same building that BTS may be in?! Time to whip out my deep breathing techniques because wow. I’m freaking out.

———-

After working at HYBE for a few months I was finally starting to relax and get into a routine. It turns out teenagers are teenagers no matter where they are from or what industry they are working in. And since I was already used to teaching teenagers that part of the job was pretty easy even with the language barrier we had. And now that I had successfully worked in the building for several months and never accidentally run into any BTS members I was feeling a lot more calm and felt less like I needed to be ready to possibly meet a beautiful man at any moment.

So it was of course at this moment that I got an email from my supervisor letting me know that I would have some visitors in my class to observe. The program I was teaching was a new program at the company and some of the bigwigs wanted to come by and see how it was going and what it looked like in the classroom. By this point I had convinced myself that this company was far too big and I was far too insignificant to ever meet BTS and especially not my bias Hoseok, so I felt relatively calm going into the work on the day of the scheduled visit.

“Alright everyone, now that we’ve talked about the Bill of Rights, I want you to find an American news story for the amendment that you think has the biggest impact on American culture today,” I wrote the assignment on the board and tried to ignore the groans behind me. “Hey now, you won’t be complaining when you see an idol perform a song that offends half of the United States because their company didn’t train them in American culture will you!?” I whipped around and gave my best teacher face to the groaning students, only to see that the delegation of visitors had arrived.

The students noticed at the same time and became deathly quiet and obedient all of the sudden. I tried desperately not to blush violently because in the group of visitors was none other than Jung Hoseok. What the actual fuck? Why would he be here? How am I supposed to operate under these conditions?

“Teacher can you help me? I keep getting the first and second amendments mixed up,” my star (and brown nosing) pupil raised his hand and requested my help. It was the perfect way to not have to directly interact with the group as they talked amongst themselves and moved around the classroom. I had never been more grateful for a student being a try hard.

But unfortunately once that interaction was over I could tell the group was very politely waiting for me so they could ask me some questions. Blessedly, Hoseok stayed at the back of the group, just listening and not asking questions. Although his eyes on me felt like heat lamps, warming my face and flustering me just enough.

“How is the curriculum going? Does it seem like the students are understanding what we want them to learn?” “Does the curriculum seem right to you? Have you been able to have any input on it since you are our resident expert?” “In your opinion, is this program working?” They threw all these questions at me and more, but thankfully my supervisor had given me a heads up on what questions they would likely ask and we went over all the answers together before the visit.

Once the bigwigs seemed satisfied in my answers they began to break up and wander around the room, some of them even leaving. All except for Hoseok, who quietly hung back, staying near me. It was clear I wasn’t the only one affected by his presence, several of my students kept shifting their eyes near him while they were working. I wasn’t sure if I could look directly at him and pretended to be distracted by all the visitors in the room.

Hoseok cleared his voice and I finally looked at him. “Excuse me, I was just wondering if I could ask about the assignment you gave the students when we came in.”

“Oh sure! The purpose of that assignment is to…” I switched over to my teacher voice and was quickly interrupted.

“No, actually I meant…I’d like to learn about it. I wish this program had been around when I was a trainee. I want to do more work with other American artists but there is so much history and culture there that I don’t understand.”

“Oh! Oh of course! I mean, not that I expected you to not know…I mean not that you have to know…I’ll go and get the assignment papers for you to look at,” I haltingly and embarrassingly moved through a sentence full of unfinished thoughts. I hurried to my desk to pick up an extra paper for him only to turn around and find him right behind me as he had followed me to the desk.

I nearly jumped back on the desk with a small yelp.

“I’m so sorry,” Hoseok quickly said and bowed over and over.

I laughed nervously, “it’s okay I just didn’t hear you behind me, I’m a little jumpy with all these visitors today I guess.”

Hoseok smiled warmly looking right in my eyes as he took the papers, “I don’t blame you. No matter how long I’ve been at this company seeing all these important men in suits still stresses me out.”

“Oh great, so I’ll never get over it? Perfect.” I teased.

“Oh! No I’m sure you’re much braver than me!” His eyes widened in shock at my negative sounding comment and he started to bow again.

“No no no, I was just teasing!” I reached out to stop him from bowing and touched his shoulder. My hand tingled from the touch and he started to laugh.

“Oh wow, of course you were joking. That’s embarrassing,” he continued to laugh.

“It’s okay, you don’t know me well enough to know how often I joke,” I tried to reassure him.

“Well then I guess I should get to know you more.”

My heart stopped. He continued and pulled out his phone.

“Could I get your number? You can help me with this assignment, and I can learn more about your sense of humor,” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, I breathed out, suddenly remembering that I had been flirting with an idol in front of my trainee class and they were surely going to interrogate me as soon as our visitors left the room. I could feel their eyes on me as I took Hoseok’s phone and entered my number.

“I’ll text you right now so you know when it’s me that texts you,” his eyes on his phone as he took it back.

My phone buzzed less than a second later with a text.

‘💜😘 - Hoseok’

I glanced at the text and tried desperately not to blush so I could still look him in the face. But before I looked back up he was talking again.

“Looks like it’s time for me to leave. I’ll text you soon Y/N.”

I finally looked up to see Hoseok wink and leave the classroom with the rest of the men in suits.

After the door closed there were a few seconds of silence and then the class erupted with excitement, most of it directed towards me and the interaction I’d just had with THE Jung Hoseok. It took ages to focus them back on the assignment.

———

I pinched myself, it hurt, I am really here.

I am really in Jung Hoseok’s apartment, sitting in his kitchen as he finished setting the table for you two to have dinner. And yes, it’s just as gorgeous and expensive looking as I expected. Did you know Louis Vuitton makes napkin holders? Well at least for Hoseok they do.

“Almost ready, sorry I’m running behind! I couldn’t decide what to wear and so I’m running late.”

In what world would Jung Hoseok worry about what he wore in front of me?

“It’s not problem at all,” I smiled at him looking flustered, “I’m terrible at being on time usually so it’s my own fault for being on time.”

Hoseok laughed, throwing his head back and smiling at me. “You really are funny Y/N.”

I smiled and blushed lightly. This is already going incredibly well.

“Okay,” Hoseok stepped back from the table and made a quick adjustment to the tablecloth that seemed to make him feel everything was now ready, “we can eat now.”

I walked over to the dining room table and took my seat, “fantastic.”

Our conversation ranged from the assignment he had asked about, to Korean culture, to the absurd nature of both the English and Korean languages, and then to music and dance.

I was terrified to admit that I was a dancer because I was far from professional. But Hoseok finally needled it out of me when he could tell I knew too much about dance to just be an admirer of it.

“Y/N! You’re a dancer! No wonder we get along so well! What kind of dance do you do!?”

“Oh I haven’t danced in so long, but I used to do a lot of contemporary dance when I was in high school. I danced a little in college but I just haven’t had the time since then. I miss it a lot.”

“You should use the practice rooms at HYBE and dance, I’m sure they’d let you,” Hoseok’s eyes lit up at the thought of me having a space to dance in.

“Would they really…let me,” I pointed at myself sarcastically, “use the practice rooms made for international superstars like you?” I pointed at him just as sarcastically.

“Well…they’d let me use it. So what if I reserve one and oops! You use it instead of me?” Hoseok eye’s continued to twinkle.

“Really?” I smiled slowly, already thinking about the music I would use and imagining myself letting out all the stress of the last few months in a new country and job.

“Yes. But only if I get to see you dance.”

My smile wavered, “Uh…..”

“Only when you feel comfortable with it though, I don’t want you to feel nervous like you’re performing for me or anything,” Hoseok’s hand shot out to cover mine in an attempt to calm me down. Little did he know while his words calmed me down his touch did just the opposite.

“Well if you’re really willing to reserve a room for me, I would honestly love that. It would be such a great way to relieve some stress,” I tried to talk through my fantastically beating heart.

“I totally get that, there is nothing quite like dancing out your stress.” Hoseok agreed. “In fact, do you want to dance a little right now? I want to listen to that artist you told me you love so much. Do they have any good songs we could…slow dance to?”

Slow dance? He wanted to slow dance with me? My heart wasn’t going to get a break was it?

“I think Benediction would be the best one to play by them, and the group name was The Arcadian Wild,” I directed him as he typed in his phone looking for the music.

The familiar music filled the room as Hoseok pushed play. He then stood up, pushed his chair in, and offered his hand to you, pulling you up from your chair as well and pulling you into the open space between the dining room table and the kitchen island.

Obviously he is good at dancing but I didn’t expect him to be such a firm leader in couple’s dancing. He expertly placed his hand on my shoulder blade, using his other hand to take mine and waltz me around the room.

“You can waltz too? This doesn’t seem fair, you’re too talented,” I teased him because not only is teasing my primary mode of flirting but I physically can’t allow moments to get too good without trying to ruin them with humor.

“I could say the same for you! Contemporary and partner dancing? You’re very good at following, some women try to lead and it’s very uncomfortable,” he smiled down at me.

“I’m very good at following when I have a good leader,” I smiled up at him and forced myself to let the moment sit and not ruin it with another joke.

We continued to dance and Hoseok spun me, twirled me, and dipped me until the end of the song. As the music came to its end his hands let go of my shoulder blade and hand and slipped down to lock together behind my waist as my hands reached behind his neck.

For a moment it almost seemed like he was going to kiss me, but then two things happened. First the song changed to a much more upbeat song and second, we ran right into the kitchen island as we had not been watching where we were going.

Hoseok let out a loud laugh “I guess I’m not that good of a leader am I? I led us right into the kitchen island! Are you okay?” He pulled back and inspect the back of my arm that had hit the edge of the island.

———

It had been two months since that dinner at Hoseok’s. There had been more dinners at his place, and more times that it almost seemed like he wanted to kiss me, but he never did so I assumed it was all in my head. I mean who am I going to trust? My ARMY brain whose had Hoseok as her bias for years? Or the actual action’s of Hoseok. It would be insanity to take my own word for those experiences so I tried to pretend they never happened.

There had also been many dance session, Hoseok reserved a dance room for me at least once a week. At first he really kept his distance, but slowly we would start to share the room and even sometimes show each other some of the things we were workshopping. Even though teaching is now my profession, dance continues to be my creative outlet even though it’s hard to pursue that as an adult.

Eventually the dance sessions even started to include Jimin, which was very uncomfortable for me at first.

“Hoseok, Jimin is actually a contemporary dancer! You watch my contemporary dancing and are impressed because you don’t know anything about it. Jimin will actually known how mediocre I am, it will be so awkward.”

“First of all Y/N, I’m impressed with your dancing because it’s good, not because I’m ignorant thank you very much. Second, you are much more than a mediocre dancer. And finally, Jimin hasn’t even done contemporary in so long when I brought up what we were doing in the practice rooms his whole face practically lit up when he thought he might have finally found someone to do some contemporary with. Come on Y/N! It will be fun,” Hoseok’s eyes twinkled. It was a trick he could play, anytime I wasn’t sure about something he would pull out those twinkly eyes and I would just melt.

“Fiiiiiiiine, but only because I know that he is incredibly polite and kind so I assume that if he thinks I’m terrible and doesn’t actually want to dance with me he will pretend I’m great and then just never come back again.”

“That’s the spirit.”

So that’s what explains the next phase of our practice room dancing. Jimin and I doing mixtures of solo and duet improvisation while also putting together some choreography on each other just for fun every once in a while. I had to admit, it was really nice to do some no-pressure contemporary choreography with someone. It was relaxing and fun and I always left in a good mood and much less stressed. And Hoseok was right, Jimin loved dancing with me, he had missed it a lot in the last few years where he did a lot of non-contemporary dancing.

One night in particular I was specifically in an improvisation mood because of something that had happened the weekend before.

It had been yet another night at Hoseok’s, a game night with Hoseok and a few friends including Jimin and I. I wish I could say there was something specific that had happened, but it had just been one of those times when Hoseok looked devastatingly handsome and I was constantly aware of how attracted I was to him. The more I got to know him the more I liked him. I watched him that night laugh and joke, listen to and comfort his friends, get unnecessarily competitive about games, and he kept doing that thing I loved where he touched my elbow every time he talked to me and put his hand on my lower back every time we walked near each other. I left his apartment absolutely whipped for him and I just didn’t know how I could keep doing this.

So that day in the practice room when it was my turn to improv I put on “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri and tried to work through my feelings for Hoseok through dance. If there was any hope at all, I would truly wait forever. I’d never met someone like him, someone kind and funny and beautiful who worked hard to keep me in his life. I often felt like I was the initiator in a lot of my previous relationships, both romantic and platonic ones. Hoseok always made sure we didn’t go more than 2-3 days without texting,talking, or seeing each other, which as good because I would have never have had the courage, especially at first, to initiate anything with a Kpop idol. I would have assumed he always had something better to do than hang out with me.

While I was dancing, it was almost like the practice room disappeared around me and all I saw was Hoseok, sitting on his couch, eating at his dining room table, watching him dance, dancing while he watched me, laughing at his jokes, making him laugh. By the time the song ended it was almost jarring to come back to the reality off the practice room with Jimin standing and watching me.

“Wow Y/N. That was beautiful, I feel like there is a story behind that song…you had such a clear purpose when you were dancing.”

“I..uh…well, just reminds me of something in my life,” Jimin and I had been getting fairly close, but I can’t imagine ever getting close enough to him to admit that I was in love with his best friend. Especially when his best friend was an international superstar that had millions of people that would likely give anything they owned to be with him. Who was I to think I was anywhere near influential in the romantic equations of Jung Hoseok?

I then saw Jimin raise his eyebrows and seemingly look at something behind me. I turned around to the window leading out of the practice room but didn’t see anything.

“So Y/N,” Jimin started as I turned back around to face him, “I know you were ARMY before you took this job, but you never told me who your bas was. Did you have one?”

Oh goodness, the exact conversation I wasn’t interested in having.

“I mean, yes, I definitely have…had…a bias.” I stammered out, looking for my water bottle to try to occupy my mouth. I could tell if he poked me hard enough I would spill every bean. I am not feeling strong enough to hold these feelings in right now.

“So….who?”Jimin asked as I started to guzzle my water bottle.

I took my sweet time swallowing that water and let the silence sit,hoping it would deter Jimin from getting his answer. It did not, he maintained eye contact in a major way.

“H..Hoseok…” I finally admitted after Jimin’s eyes had basically bored holes in my head with their intensity.

Jimin began to smile and raised his eyebrows once more, “And Hoseok was your bias….or is your bias?”

Man alive this guy as good at intimidating eye contact, he could get war criminals to confess to crimes I feel confident about that.

“Hoseok….Hoseok is my bias,” I whispered to him.

“So that dance was about him wasn’t it?” Jimin pointed to the dance floor where I had been dancing just a minute or so ago.

“Yes,” I admitted quickly, “but Jimin you can’t tell him it’s so embarrassing! He’s been so nice to me since I’ve moved here and I don’t want him to think I have all these ulterior motives for getting to know him, he’d be totally creeped out.”

Jimin put his hands up and backed up slightly, “Hey, I can keep a secret calm down. Though I must say I don’t think he’d be creeped out. But if you don’t want me to tell him anything I’ll keep my mouth shut. Promise.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, Jimin and Hoseok may be good friends but Jimin is very good at keeping his word.

What I didn’t know was that Jimin was not the only person to not only see me dance. Hoseok had been watching through the window to the practice room, which is what Jimin had noticed before asking about my bias. But he had skedaddled as soon as I turned around so he hadn’t heard my confessions. And Jimin was true to his word…technically.

—————

‘I think we should have a movie night tonight, just you, me and Y/N’ Jimin texted Hoseok shortly after I left the practice room.

‘Okay! But why just us three…do you know something I don’t know?’ Hoseok had been thinking about you so intensely since stepping away from watching you dance that he had officially run into three walls in the last four minutes. He was really hoping that Jimin knew something specifically that he didn’t know. Something that he wanted to know, something that he wanted to be true…

‘Let’s just say, I think the smaller the better tonight. And I may have to leave early…😉’

Hoseok’s heart jumped, he was about to text Jimin demanding real answers when he got another text from him.

‘I’m sworn to secrecy, that’s the most you’ll get out of me.’

‘I’ll tell you this much, you saw her dance today, you should ask her about that.’

————

I arrived at Hoseok’s with my heart beating out of my chest. Why was I so nervous? I had been to his place probably 2-3 times a month since moving to Korea? What was different about tonight? Well, because tonight happened after today and today I had confessed how I really felt about Hoseok through both dance and words. As long as Jimin is here tonight as a buffer I’ll be able to operate just fine.

The door swings open to Hoseok’s perfect face.

“Y/N! Welcome! I just heard from Jimin and it turns out he can’t come tonight so it’s just us, hope that’s not too boring.”

My heart stops and the breath catches in my throat. I might die.

“Oh, that’s fine,” I manage to squeak out.

We soon got situated on the couch and seemed to have run out of small talk, no one was even mentioning the movie we were planning on watching. Was it just me or did Hoseok seem as nervous as I felt?

“So…Y/N. I saw you dancing today,” Hoseok finally said shyly, not quite meeting my eyes.

“You did? That must have been what Jimin was looking at behind me!” The look Jimin had given after my dance suddenly made sense. And then horror flooded my body, he didn’t hear the conversation did he? “Did you hear the conversation I had with Jimin after that?” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“No no no, I left pretty much right after you stopped dancing. It…well your dancing made me think…” Hoseok definitely looked flustered.

“…made you think what Hoseok?” I prodded hopefully.

“Watching you, and listening to the words of the song I just…well I don’t know if you were dancing about someone in particular but it seemed like you were, it seemed like a really purposeful dance. And I…well I think whoever you were dancing about is probably just about the luckiest man in the world. And hopefully they know that.”

I paused, trying to take in what he said. Was he implying that he wanted it to be him? I wasn’t gutsy enough to just come right out and say that, so I inched toward the truth instead.

“He doesn’t know,” I whispered, unconsciously moving closer to Hoseok on the couch and hesitatingly putting my hand on his knee.

Hoseok mimicked my actions and scooted closer, placing his hand on top of mine.

“Is it me?”

I tried to answer, but my fear wouldn’t let me. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. He came to my rescue.

“Because I want it to be me.”

“It’s you.”

He squeezed my hand and cupped my cheek with his other, stroking my face lightly before leaning in to kiss me. It wasn’t a simple kiss, it was long-awaited and full of longing. It was pent up passion from our first dinner, from all the almost kisses and confessions in between.

Hoseok pulled away from me just far enough to say “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you.”

I giggled. “I’m glad you finally did.”

——————-

The end of my one-year contract with HYBE was coming close. Hoseok and I had been officially dating for nearly half of that year. Jimin, by the way, took full credit for our relationship and made sure we remembered it.

I began to think about whether I wanted to renew my contract, because while this contract had just been a trial for a new program, the next one they wanted me to sign was for 5 years. The program had gone very well and they had been very happy with my work. I had loved worked there and everything about it had been such a joy. But.

I was so far away from my family, I had planned on this just being a small adventure before I decided to really settle down back home. I had always expected to go back to my own country and my own home state and put down roots there near my family. Living in Korea long-term was never in the plan and seemed crazy. Unless…unless someone here wanted me to stay.

I don’t think I’m wiling to put down roots in a foreign country if those roots are just mine, but if they are growing with someone else’s? I’m wiling to settle down in an unexpected place if I’m settling down with someone. I just needed to know if Hoseok wanted that same thing. I didn’t want to pressure him, we hadn’t been dating terribly long, but we had been dating long enough that this decision of mine included him, it couldn’t be just about me. But even then, putting down roots in a foreign country. That’s a lot to decide even if I’m doing it with a great boyfriend by my side.

Hoseok and I were settling down on his couch after dinner when I decided to tell him about the 5 year contract I had been offered.

“Hoseok, HYBE wants me to come back, they offered me a 5 year contract.”

His eyes went wide and his face broke into an ecstatic smile. “Really!? Y/N that’s amazing! Are you going to take it?”

“I haven’t decided yet, 5 years is a long time. I have loved my year here, I just can’t decide if it’s really what I want for 5 years. That’s a long time to be away from my family. It feels like it’s essentially deciding that this is where I’ll stay for the rest of my life and…I’m just not sure I’m ready to make that commitment.”

Hoseok nodded along as he listened, furrowing his eyebrows and focusing intently on my mixed emotions.

“I think all of that makes a lot of sense Y/N, you are the only one who can make that decision and I’m sure you’ll make the right one.”

“But do you want me to stay?” I asked. While it might not yet be the time to bring up the question of marriage, whether or not he wants you to stick around would say a lot.

“Oh jagiya I absolutely want you to stay. I wish it didn’t mean you were far from your family and your home and your culture and your language, but if it was up to me you’d never leave me,”he grabbed my arms and rubbed them up and down while answering my question. “But I don’t want you to only stay because of me.”

“I wouldn’t only stay for you, but knowing you want me to stay does factor into my decision,” I chewed my lip in concentration. This will be a hard decision to make even knowing Hoseok wants me here.

———

While you were contemplating your decision, Hoseok was getting the advice of his members, trying to figure out how to convince you so stay in Korea and to stay with him. He didn’t want you to stay if you would be unhappy, but he also wanted to remind you of how happy you could be in Korea with him.

“Okay how do I convince her to stay? What do I do?”

“I think you’ve got to make sure you’re texting her compliments all the time,” Jin offered, “remind her of how much you love her and how happy you can make her.”

“I think you should bribe her with gifts! You’re so good at giving gifts hyung,” V added to Jin’s suggestion.

“You’ve got to show her how great Korea is, not just how great of a boyfriend you are. Take her hiking, to art museums, remind her of all the great things Korea has that the US doesn’t have.” Of course RM’s suggestion included art museums, still a good idea though.

“Spend as much time with her as possible, you’re so good at making people feel good about themselves, the more time she spends with you the less she’ll want to leave,” Jungkook suggested.

“You should definitely dance with her hyung, so much of your relationship has included dance. Maybe if you offer to learn some contemporary you two can choreograph something together that is meaningful and make her think about staying here with you.” Jimin’s idea was one that Hoseok never would have thought of but he really liked the idea of it.

“When it comes down to it Hobi, it has to be her decision entirely, but I don’t think it is a bad idea to remind her of how much you want her to stay. As long as you aren’t guilting her into it,” Suga ended the advice session with his wise words.

“Okay okay, this helps. Thanks guys. I have a lot to think about now.”

———

My decision needed to happen in the next two weeks, and ever since I’d talked to Hoseok about it he seemed to have really amped up his boyfriending. We had done lots of little trips around Seoul, he was texting me compliments multiple times a day, and I had gotten presents from him almost every other day. I wasn’t complaining, but my favorite part was definitely what he had suggested we try in the practice rooms.

“Jagiya, I want to try some contemporary dance with you. I have seen you and Jimin dance and I would love to try. I get a little jealous when you two dance together, he gets to touch you and lift you with meaningful music and moves and I want to try to!”

I was more than happy to oblige and let him pick the song for us to choreograph together to. He picked a song by my favorite band, in fact the first band we ever danced to - The Arcadian Wild. And the song he chose was Roots, a song about putting down your roots with someone. This was clearly a calculated move but that didn’t mean I didn’t like it.

Choreographing with Hoseok to a song I loved with lyrics that fit what I wanted to do so much, put roots down with him, was really putting me over the edge with my decision. It became clearer with each dance session that this is what I really wanted. It didn’t really have much to do with being in Korea at all, it had everything to do with wanting to settle down in one place with one man. This man. Jung Hoseok.

I waited until our final choreography session to tell him, I had to give your decision to HYBE by the next day and I knew Hoseok was on pins and needles about my decision though he hadn’t been asking me about it at all.

But during this dance session as we lifted and twirled and wound our bodies around each other it almost felt like he already knew. I was dancing differently and he could feel it. He could feel my conviction, just like he could see my confession of love to him in a previous dance session months ago. But this time he knew it was about him.

Before the song had even fully ended in the middle of our ending pose, face to face with our palms together, Hoseok smiled, linked his fingers with mine and breathed out “You’re staying aren’t you?”

Tears came to my eyes, preventing me from answering him with words, I could only nod.

He quickly let go of my hands, linked his hands around my back, picked me up and swung me around while screaming “Yaaaaaahhhh!!!!!”

Hoseok finally put you down, took your face in his hands, wiped away your tears of happiness and kissed you. “I love you jagiya, I can’t want to put down roots with you here.”

—————-

It had been a year since you made your decision to stay in Korea. Another amazing year with Hoseok as a better boyfriend than you could ever imagine. I had visited my family a couple of times with him and they loved him just as much as I did. Seeing him with my siblings and parents and nieces and nephews made you me just love him even more.

Our anniversary was coming up and my whole family was coming to Korea to visit for the first time. I was extremely excited, but also nervous. It felt like Hoseok was planning something and I desperately wanted it to be a proposal. We had been talking about marriage and it was starting to look like he had hit a point in his career where he could get married without it being disastrous for him or BTS.

“Are you ready for tonight my love?” Hoseok asked as soon as you woke up and turned over to face him. It looked like he had been waiting for you to wake up.

“I am so ready, I can’t wait for my whole family to be here with us. And your family! And your members! It’s going to be a great party, thank you for planning it.”

“Of course jagiya, you know I love planning parties. And I have some surprises for you, so be ready for that,” he said with that telltale and heart melting twinkle in his eye.

It was hard to go through the rest of the day knowing that something so exciting would be happening that night. I tried not to assume it was a proposal but what else could it be?

‘Even if it’s just a fun party with your family and his family together and all his members it will be great. I’ll be happy even without a proposal’ I keep trying to convince myself.

The time finally arrived for you to go to the party. It was in the HYBE building and Hoseok was already there setting everything up, he wanted almost everything about the party to be a surprise and and had sent a car to bring you there.

The car that arrived was in fact a limousine and was filled with your family already. You hugged and chatted and it helped to have them there to pass the time it took to get to HYBE.

“I’m so excited for tonight Y/N, you are so lucky to have found someone as wonderful as Hoseok,” my mom smiled at me.

“He almost seems like a part of the family already,” my dad winked.

If that wasn’t a hint at a proposal I don’t know what was.

I expected the party to be in one of the open rooms on the top floors, but we were directed to a small auditorium instead. Color me confused, a party in an auditorium? I quickly spotted Hoseok and walked over to him.

“Y/N! You’re here! You’re all here!” He gestured to my family and started giving everyone hugs.

“Hoseok I expected this would be in one of those open rooms, what are we doing in an auditorium?” I questioned him.

There were his eyes twinkling again, “You’ll see, go take your seat, I’ve labeled ours so you know where to sit,” he pointed to the middle of the auditorium where there was a small couch in front all of all auditorium seats labeled with our names. Of course it also contained a bouquet of roses and peonies (my favorite) and a present.

“Go open it,” Hoseok whispered in my ear.

I headed over to my seat as my family sat around me and opened the present. It was a gift certificate for a tattoo parlor with a note that said ‘So we can have something matching’. I’d told Hoseok that I’d always wanted to have my wedding ring tattooed on because I was terrible at wearing jewelry. Yet another hint at what the night had in store.

Soon Hoseok’s family and the other BTS members started arriving and it was time to start whatever this party was. Hoseok came onto the stage.

“I want to welcome everyone and thank you for coming, I know you were expecting a party, and we will have a party later, but first I wanted to invite a couple of Y/N’s favorite bands here to celebrate the fact that one year ago today she decided to stay here in Korea with me. One of the things I learned about Y/N early on is that BTS was not her first boy band, or even, unfortunately her favorite boy band. For months I’ve been working on coordinating in order to get her favorite boy band here tonight and amazingly everyone’s schedules aligned and I am very excited to bring to the stage the Jonas Brothers!”

I’m sorry the WHAT!? Shortly after Hoseok and I had started officially dating he found out that I had been wildly obsessed with the Jonas Brothers in college and though he had been a little disappointed that they held my heart more than BTS ever had, he came to terms with it and loved to tease me about it. But never in my wildest dreams did I think me confessing that to him would lead to him bringing them to Korea to perform for me.

Kevin, Joe,and Nick walked on the stage and I involuntarily screamed and then laughed at myself. Once Hoseok came back to his seat next to me I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “You are unreal you know that?”

He pretended to scold me, “Shh! The Jonas Brothers are performing, I need to pay attention so I can finally figure out what they have that BTS doesn’t,” he finished his teasing with a wink while grabbing my hand and pulling it to his lap.

Of course they played all my favorites and of course they came down and gave me flowers and hugged me and Hoseok before they left the stage.

Hoseok hopped back up on the stage, “Now that our opening act has finished, it’s time for the main attraction.”

“Opening act!? Who could the Jonas Brothers open for? Who is bigger than the Jonas Brothers,” I genuinely responded to Hoseok then felt silly remembering all the other people in the room.

There was some laughter before Jimin responded “BTS!”

I turned around to see Jimin and the other members but seeing the shock on Suga’s face and seeing RM quick to shake his head no I realized Jimin was just teasing.

Well then who could it be?

When they finally walked out I realized it only could have been one artist. My favorite band, the first song we ever danced to, the song we danced to that convinced me to stay in Korea, a band that had been a soundtrack to so many of the high points of our relationship. The Arcadian Wild.

When Hoseok came back down to sit with me I was incredibly glad he had brought a couch in for us instead of the regular auditorium seating so I could cuddle right up to him. I didn’t care that our families were behind us and everyone could see. This music was too entwined with our relationship for me to not want to be as close as possible to him while we heard it live. He obliged and placed his arm firmly around me.

Neither of us moved until they announced their last song, Benediction. The first song we ever danced to.

“Do you want to dance?” Hoseok asked me, his voice shaking slightly.

“Yes,”I found it hard to control my emotions because it was so clear what was coming.

It felt like we were dancing on a cloud, I forgot all about everyone else in the room and only saw Hoseok as our eyes locked together. And then on my favorite line, a line about moving into eternity Hoseok pulled back and went down on one knee and pulled a box out of his pocket.

I know now, having watched the video back of Hoseok’s proposal, that everyone was cheering when he kneeled down. I heard none of it. I heard only him.

“Y/N, I can’t imagine my life without you. I had a good life before you, but my life since meeting you has been fuller than I knew it could be, happier, more meaningful. I know many people call me sunshine, but you are the light of my life, you are my sunshine. You have given me stability and comfort and friendship that I thought I wasn’t allowed to have as an idol. You make my life feel normal, and you know how much that means to me. Will you do me the honor of marrying me? Of waking up next to me for all eternity?”

“Yes Hoseok, I would love nothing more than to spend my eternity with you,” I answered with tears in my eyes.

After a few seconds of Hoseok putting the ring on my finger and us hugging ferociously I started to hear the crowd around us again cheering. Hoseok put me down and I looked around almost as if I hadn’t known anyone as there. Our families and Hoseok’s members began to move up from their seats to us to hug us and congratulate us. Eventually Hoseok moved us into a room much more fit for a party with food and drinks and music and plenty of open space to talk and dance.

The night finally wound down. By the time we went back to our place I had hugged everyone at least three times though Jimin had hugged me at least ten times before we finally left. I was happy and excited but also completely exhausted so I got into my pajamas as soon as we got back and snuggled into bed. It didn’t take long for Hoseok to join me and soon I was falling asleep with a smile on my face. Right before I fell asleep I felt a small kiss on my forehead.

“I can’t wait to marry you Y/N.”

---------------------------------Masterlist----------------------------------

#hoseok fluff #jhope fluff #hoseok imagine #jhope imagine #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok x y/n #hoseok x you #jhope x you

[blorbofrommyshows]

what the hell what the hell what the hell

#I’m really upset #I missed a live online talk today bc i noted the time down wrong #like it happens. it’s a Saturday for gods sake #but it still should be available online but I haven’t been able to find where #so i emailed the teacher to let her know I’d accidentally #missed it and asked if she knew where I could find the recording #i also linked her to an article that was by the same person and asked if it would be okay if I read that instead of i couldn’t find it #and she replied.. #‘I haven't found out where to look up the streams either. Keep trying. #I've given you a lot of help when you compare that to the others in the course. #Basically I have to tell you that your attitude towards work is giving me a lot of extra work. #I will not help anymore in the future.’ #(translated from German) #like what the hell??! #that is so so unfair it’s not even funny #i haven’t gotten any ‘extra help’ from her before except asking her to give me a link #to a recording she’d recommended we watch that I couldn’t find #her course is way too difficult so there’s literally only 4 of us left taking it #everyone else has dropped out #she always forces us to watch stuff live on obscure German sites and discuss it #when she knows we don’t really know anything about German theatre #(it’s her job to teach us) #also her language level is way too high. it’s meant to be b2 level and she just full on uses full c2 all the time #I’m gonna like. suck up in reply but honestly fuck her that is so uncalled for #I’m gonna talk to my home uni and see if it would be ok if I dropped the course even though technically I need it #bc like when she starts being like that it impacts negatively on my mental health. #I’m also gonna talk to the German uni and see if it would be possible to raise a concern abt her and her course #also just last lesson she was saying that we’re a really good group and she’s happy with us and whatever etc etc #guess that was? fake. #nem.txt

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #9

Leviathan: I wish puberty took you to a customize character screen

Satan: Do you realize how many people would be dragons

Solomon: You say this like it’s a bad thing

•

Mammon: Uptown funk would’ve made it onto the shrek soundtrack

Solomon: That’s the truest statement I’ve ever read

•

Asmodeus: Once in the fifth grade this kid called me a homo and I thought it meant homeless and I was so confused I said ‘Raphael you’ve been to my house’

•

Mammon: My brother just accidentally prematurely sent an email to his boss…. It was supposed to say ‘I am afraid that we will have to postpone our meeting’ but he hit send when all it said was

Hi, Diavolo

I am afraid

•

Mammon: Fun Disney fact! Fiona was the first red-headed Disney Princess when she made her debut in 1988, one year before Ariel did in The Little Mermaid (1989)

Mephistopheles: Shrek came out in 2001

Mammon: Good for him

•

Satan: One time in math class my math teacher was really pissed at us and he was yelling “DO YOU EVEN KNOW BASIC MATH? DO YOU KNOW ADDITION? WHAT’S TWO PLUS TWO? MAMMON WHAT’S TWO PLUS TWO?” and poor Mammon wasn’t paying attention so I leaned over to him and whispered “seven” and he blurted out “SEVEN” and I have never laughed harder and I doubt I ever will.

•

Asmodeus: Today at work I let someone into a dressing room and they said “thank you” and half of me tried to say “you’re welcome” and the other half tried to say “no problem” and I ended up saying “your problem.”

Mammon: One time I was playing soccer in gym. Ball is up in the air. Think I’m gonna be awesome and air kick it into the goal. Try. Miss ball. Kick goalie in the face. Try to ask “are you okay” and

“I’m fucking sorry” at the same time. Instead end up yelling “ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY!?” Goalie is cooking back tears.

Leviathan: This post had me in tears.

•

Raphael: That’s a cute foot fetish you got there, would you mind keeping it 25796323689432 feet away from me?

Asmodeus: 25796323689432 feet you say?

•

Simeon: If you had six minutes left to live what’s the last song you’d listen to

Leviathan: I’d spend the entire six minutes trying to pick a song

•

Mammon: You call it “really bad at darts”, I call it freestyle acupuncture

Barbatos: Sir I’m going to have to ask you to leave the bar

•

Mammon: Can you OD on vitamin D?

Mephistopheles: That’s how Icarus died

•

Leviathan: I’m really into internet discourse but only pointless and stupid internet discourse like how many holes there are in a straw (it’s 2)

Mephistopheles: No it’s an infinite amount of holes stacked on top of eachother

Leviathan: This is exactly what I’m talking about

•

Luke: I have small hands

Leviathan: Bring them closer to you they’re just far away

Luke: Wow you were right…

•

Diavolo: You ever dip your entire Oreo in milk except the part where you’re holding it and feel like thetis dipping newborn Achilles into the River of Styx making him invulnerable everywhere except for his heel

•

Solomon:

Two things I need today’s youth to know:

1. Anything the government says is propaganda

2. 99% of vegetables taste better roasted

Barbatos: you spelled boiled wrong

Solomon:

My apologies:

Anything the government says is boiled

•

Diavolo: The weirdest instance of “getting my wires crossed” I’ve ever experienced: I had a piece of candy at my desk. My intention was to simultaneously eat the candy and start a brief work task. I put the candy in my mouth and felt a surge of alarm as I was convinced, for a fraction of a second, that I had somehow eaten the task I was about to start.

•

Asmodeus: Hope everyone is well today!

Asmodeus: And tomorrow !!!!

Asmodeus: After that you’re on your own

•

Luke: Omg my guardian just came into my room and told me that I’m spending too much time on the internet so he told me “I’m sorry I have to do this but it’s for your own good.” and then he proceeded to delete the internet explorer icon from my desk top

And the way he said “I just deleted the internet” just takes the cake

#obey me shall we date #funny obey me #obey me as tumblr #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me mephistopheles #obey me thirteen

[coffeechangbeanie]

Home Reading 18+

Dilf!Chan, biker!chan, kindergarten teacher!reader

Basically Chris' daughter is in your kindergarten class, and you've been simping whenever he pulls up on his motorbike to pick her up. Plus he's tattooed because I have n e e d s ok? There's a bit of pussy slapping and dirty talk but it's pretty vanilla.

__________________________________

You were standing outside the school, making sure your kindergarten class stayed in line. As the bus pulled up to the side if the road, your kindergarten assistant took her line of bus kids to that side of the parking lot, giving you a lovely view of the parent parking lot. Especially one parent in particular. You composed yourself as you saw Mr. Bang pull up in his motorcycle, his daughter, Yuna, excitedly jumped up and down, accidentally hitting another girl. The girl starts to cry, hitting Yuna back. Hiding your annoyance, you knelt down to Yuna, "Yuna, remember, keep control of your hands." Yuna sheepishly nods. "And Suzie we know not to hit our friends back-"

"Ms. Yn?" A deep voice says behind you, interupting your teacher speech.

You turn around, standing up to see Chris.

His black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders exposing just enough of the head of his surpent tattoo on his neck for you to wonder how far the snake went down his body.

"Ah, Mr. Bang, did you get my email?"

"yes I did, where are we having this impromptu parent teacher meeting?" He says, adjusting his helmet under his arm, a much smaller, sparkly pink one tucked inside.

You see your assistant coming back up the sidewalk. "Right now if ms. Chaeyoung wouldnt mind taking over."

"of course! Go have your meeting," she says, taking your clipboard from you.

You lead the way back inside to you classroom.

The room's walls are lined with students drawings, crafts, and pictures. A whiteboard with the day's letter still up.

"Mr. Bang, today marks the 3rd week her home reading isn't done. In class she's unfocused, hyperactive, and disruptive, I'd like to work with you so we can help her succeed."

Chris rubs his eyes defeatedly, "it's been a tough few weeks, I'll get on the home reading and speak to her about her behaviour."

"thank you, Mr. Bang."

He nods, awkwardly leaving your classroom. You watch him exit the building from the window. Happily picking up Yuna and putting on her helmet for her. He carries her out the his bike as she sits atop his shoulders. You can't help but smile at the cuteness.

It had been a few weeks since your meeting with Chris about Yuna, but you couldn't get the thought of him out if your head. (Not that you could normally, but it was especially bad lately). You know you shouldn't be thinking about one if your student's parent that way but you'd never seen a ring in his finger and Yuna never talked about her mom on the "draw your family" art project...

You were out walking your dog through the playground, the late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky. You hear children giggle as they played.

"Ms. yn!" You look up to see Felix, a parent of another of your students, sitting in a park bench next to Chris. You do a double take when you catch a blush rising up his cheeks.

"Mr. Lee, Mr. Bang," you say, your dog preoccupied with a smell under the bench, "lovely evening for the park innit?"

Felix checks his watch, "speaking of, it's almost dinner time."

"tell your wife I say 'hi'" Chris calls after Felix who's helping his little girl pack up her toys.

"always do!" Felix calls back.

Chris laughs. It's such a genuine laugh, almost like a giggle.

You found yourself fascinated with the sound.

"something on my face?"

You snap out if your daze, "sorry, I just wasn't expecting your laugh to sound like that," you try to laugh away the awkwardness.

It seems to work as Chris relaxes his shoulders, loosening up. He laughs again. The sight of his crinkled eyes as he looks at you makes your heart swell.

"I know it's rather sudden," Chris inhaled sharply, "but would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? Yuna's having a sleepover at Felix's since it's a Friday-"

"I'd love to!" You cut off his rambling.

"really!?" He asks excitedly with wide eyes.

"yeah I thought you'd never ask," you laugh, "is 7 o'clock a good time?"

"I'll see you then," he says, grinning from ear to ear.

You walk up a set of concrete steps, seeing Chris' bike on the drive as you approach the front door.

The door opens before you have a chance to raise your hand to knock.

Chris looks stunningly sifistocated in his white button up and black jeans, hair styled curly as he invites you inside. He asks to take your coat, more than happy to show off your backless red dress.

"wow," he breaths, taking in the sight.

You smile, "you don't look half bad yourself."

He has a classy dinner already laid in on his dinning room table.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find a table cloth."

"I don't mind at all," you say, smiling at Yuna's drawings etched into the wood.

Chris pulls out a chair for you, you sit down, thanking him. From this angle you have a good view into an office. You notice a stack of books and recording equipment piled on a desk

"what's the books for?" You ask.

"hm? Oh! Just my university stuff," he says, serving you.

"what are you studying?"

"music production, because I hate working so low down in the company."

You listen to him talk about his degree, how he's been studying for his finals the last few weeks, his job now and Yuna. He fills you in on all the adorable, sweet, and cheeky things his little girl has done. You see the sparkle in his eyes and can't help but reciprocate, she really is a sweet kid.

You find him fascinating in everyway. But your mind wanders a bit, he is also irresistibly sexy with his dark curls in his eyes and shirt showing a bit too much skin. The fact that you're sitting across from him now is enought to make your core wet.

"-sorry I don't mean to talk so much, I just rarely get the chance to have adult conversations, you know living with a 5 year old and what not- and here I go again rambling." He sheepishly resumes eating his dinner.

"not at all! I love listening to you!"

"really?"

"yeah," you say, a bit too breathy.

"that's good," he says staring at your lips. You hadn't realized you'd been biting your bottom one. You decide to bite the bullet instead and press your foot to his crotch. His body goes pliant in his chair for a moment before he silently puts his fork down.

He looks at you, searching your gaze before a dark lustful look comes over him.

He picks up his fork again, "the bedroom is the last room on the left hallway," he says, finishing his last bite of food.

Youve hardly processed his sentence when he speaks again.

"Did you hear me baby girl?"

You nod rapidly, standing up with weak knees going down the hallway.

You find the bedroom. You're inside for less than a second when Chris pushes you against his bedroom wall, kissing you deeply.

"How about you strip for me, let me see how much you want me." He's hardly finished his sentence when you're pulling off your clothes. You struggle to get out of your dress in your eagerness, eventually draping it over a nearby chair, kneeling on the floor, looking up eagerly at him.

"no bra," he breaths, his eyes fucking you.

Chris takes his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. You can't help but ogle at the sight. Your eyes find the serpent, following it down his chest, the end of its tail still tucked behind his black jeans.

Chris continues the show, slowly dropping his pants and stepping out of them.

So it ends at his knee. You think to yourself.

You can see his leaking dick pressed painful hard against his underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight.

"close your mouth, darling. You'll catch flies." He grins, voice like silk.

"maybe you should close my mouth for me," you test.

He smirks, running the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip.

You take that as permission to pull his boxers down.

"you gonna be a good girl and take all my cock?" He asks smugly.

You nod, stroking his length, leaving kitten licks on his tip.

Chris groans, "feels so good, Yn."

You take his whole length into his mouth, taking him by surprise. he accidentally bucks his hips into your warm mouth.

He moans seeing you choke on his cock for a second.

Chris mumbles an apology as he rest his hand in your hair, feeling the way you bob your head up and down on his thick length.

You bask in his elicit moans, feeling smug knowing you're the one on your knees for him, not any of your co-workers or single moms. You.

He suddenly pulls your head off him. You whine in response. Chris guides you back to your feet, pulling your body against his.

"that was fun baby girl, but now it's your turn," he whispers into your neck, his hard-on dripping against your thigh.

Chris picks you up, tossing you effortlessly on the bed, he kisses down your neck to your boobs, giving each a gentle squeeze before continuing his ministrations down your body. He gives special attention to your thighs, avoiding where you want him most. You catch his drift.

"please Chris, please touch my pussy" you whine.

Chris moans, "such a dirty girl."

"please," you whine again.

Chris lightly brushes his fingers over your womanhood, just barely missing your clit.

You groan in annoyance.

"touch me harder, Chris please!"

He lands a harsh but not painful slap on your dripping cunt. You moan, gripping his bicep as a wave of pleasure hits you.

"like that, baby girl?"

You nod rapidly.

Chris kisses your pussy lips, before slapping you again, you don't have time recover when he lands a third.

Chris presses his tongue against your clit. You watch his eyes flutter closed as he eats you out like he didn't just finish dinner.

He inserts 2 fingers, making you scream in pleasure.

He pistons his fingers in and out of your soaked heat while sucking harshly on your clit.

It quickly becomes too much, you come on his fingers with a moan of his name

Chris doesn't stop, he slows down while you ride out your orgasm but picks up the pace when you start squirming.

After your third orgasm, pulls his fingers out, you whine in protest.

"I can't take it anymore," he groans, whipping a drawer open and cracking a fresh box of condoms.

You watch his fingers, still slick with your come open the wrapper.

"first time using one of these," he nervously giggles when he catches your gaze.

You take the condom from him, sliding it down his thick length. His erection twitching in your hand.

You sense the anxiety in the air.

You lay on your back, pulling him on-top.

"fuck me Chris," you moan.

He groans as he guides his dick in you.

You moan when he bottoms out.

He starts off slow, letting you feel all of his length. As he gains confidence, he quickens his pace until you're screaming his name.

He slows his thrusts just long enough to make you squirm before his hips resume pistoning in you. The pleasure knocking the wind out of you.

"feels so good, Chris," you moan, tangling a hand in his hair. Your other hand moving down his back, feeling his back muscles flex with every jerk of his hips.

"fuck Yn, I'm going to come."

You've lost the ability to speak, responding only by moaning.

You both come at the same time, feeling him relax onto you.

After a moment of heavy breathing and gentle kisses later, Chris pulls out. He throws out the condom standing up. He pulls one of his clean black tees over your exhausted form. He tucks you into bed with him.

"that was amazing, Yn, thank you."

"you're very welcome, I thoroughly enjoyed myself," you chime. Chris giggles, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh.

You laugh, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

He wraps his arms around you as you trace his snake tattoo from his neck down to his side to his leg.

He pulls you into a gentle but passionate kiss, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders.

"can I ask a question, Chris?" You ask between kisses.

"shoot."

"what happened to Yuna's mom?"

Chris took a deep breath, you cringed at yourself for letting curiousity get the better of you.

"she was a fling in my senior year of high school, when she got pregnant and didn't want the baby, I said I'd take her. Yuna's never met her mom."

"I didn't know, I'm so sorry."

"don't be." He smiled, "I think you'd make a much better mom for her."

"really?"

"if that's what you want!" Chris rushed, realizing what he just said.

"that is what I want," you say, kissing his lips.

"does that mean you'll do her home reading for me?"

You laugh, nodding.

_______________________________________________

_______________________________________________

Ugh I feel like this is trash lmao I tried. Ive volunteered in kindergarten before so I tried to make the dialogue work but idk if it did, I wrote this instead of sleeping. It's also been a very long time since I've written in "novel" format since I'm practicing screenplays rn oof so I'm sorry if this sucks. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! And thank you to @lovebini for the giggling suggestion!

-Elle

#stray kids bang chan smut #stray kids smut #chan stray kids #chan smut #dilf chan

[sterekficrec]

Lost fic masterpost 2.0

This is the new masterpost list for lost fics we haven't found ourselves yet and we need some help with finding. This list contains all asks that are asked after May 31st, 2018. If you asked us something before that date and it hasn't been answered, please check out our Last Chance Asks post first, if it isn't on there feel free to send us the ask again.

If you know what one (or more) of these are then let me know through an ask and mention the number.

Thanks in advance for all your help :)

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

1.

Hii! I'm looking for this fic I read a while ago, it was on ao3 and kind of short I think.. Stiles catches Derek smoking weed naked, and it involves shotguning.. I remember it had embeded images of shirtless Derek(or some model who looks like Derek more likely) sitting on the floor by the bed.. Hope somebody knows this, I really want to find this :'(

2.

Hi! I don’t know if you can help with this but I’ve been looking for a fic everywhere. Stiles is older than Derek and Talia brings him in to help Derek through his rut or heat. I can’t remember much else. I hope you can help!

3.

Hey, I was wondering if you could help me find a fic where stiles thinks Derek doesn't find him attractive Derek doesn't get hard, and Derek thinks that stiles doesn't want him because of this and there's just hella miscommunication?

4.

Hey I was hoping maybe you could help me find a fic? All I remember was that is was like a retelling of season one but Stiles was older and an FBI agent?

6.

Hey there! I wanted to ask about a fic I read some time ago. It’s sort of au. Stiles doesn’t live in Beacon Hills anymore but helps out Deacon and him and Derek meet when he helps out Dereks pack with something. He’s a witch or something like that. I’m sorry for being so vague and in one of the cases Derek gets possessed by a demon, who kills people by dehydrating them. And Stiles gets the demon out of him. Have you guys recced anything like it? I really want to read it again. Thanks :)

7.

Hey!!!! So I was wondering if you could help me find this sterek fic?? They are married and they have a few kids I think mpreg. It has a lot of chapters and in one of them their daughter I think her name may start with an l goes to a dance with a vampire, Derek isn’t so sure ab it. And one time stiles has to go on a trip for work or maybe a retreat with Scott and Derek has to console there few month old, as he hasn’t been away from stiles. Please please!!

8.

I was wondering if you’d be able to help me find a fic? Derek and Stiles are on a date and they have Cora with them. When they’re buying tickets, the person at the ticket counter flirts with Derek and assumes he’s chaperoning a date between Cora and Stiles. I think Stiles yells oh hell no and then kisses Derek?? I wish I could remember more, but that’s all I recall..

9.

I've been looking for a certain nsfw fic where someone "gives" Stiles to Derek as a birthday present, I'm pretty sure Stiles is tied up in a hotel bed or something like that. Thank you so much in advance 💖

10.

Hello! I read a fic once and I cannot find it again and I would really like to reread it. Of what I remember the sheriff is an alpha and dies and Stiles has to take over and the sheriff left a lot of debt. So Stiles starts to sell off chunks of land and works a ton of jobs to try to pay it back.

11.

Hey, I’m looking for a fic where Stiles is a spark, but he’s hella freaking powerful because when his mom died he kind of tried to bring her back, but it latched onto his baseball bat? I think Lydia is actually the alpha of the pack, and Laura and Cora are alive (I think the rest of the Hales are too?). Derek was like, literally married to Kate for a while and then they divorce and Stiles and him break into her house and totally trash it. Help????

12.

I was wondering i you could help me find a fic (i'm desperate), the only thing i can remember is that derek keeps a 20 dollar bill by his door in case any girl scouts come by, but they never come because the moms think he's some kind og bad guy. Stiles meets a girl scout mom and konda confront her about it (and by confront i mean like really yell at) i think it might have been a slowburn fic Thank you:)

13.

I've been looking desperately for this fic where Stiles gets Emissary/Druid training from Deaton but eventually Deaton refuses to teach Stiles anymore so Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in search of another teacher he leave sometime before the alpha pack he finds a teacher and travels a lot but eventually returns Beacon Hills after a few years very powerful helps them defeat somthing and eventually hooks up with Derek.

14.

Hi please if u could help me this sterek fic? Both derek and stiles were deputies . Derek was new there and parrish like stiles which made Der jealous . I dont remember much but help ..

15.

Hey I was hoping you could help me find a fic? It's been a while since I've read it, but I know it was based around the sacfricial killings, but they were being used to resurrect some people I think? It was magic!Stiles, and at the end he kinda changed the spell to resurrect the Hale family instead? Sorry I can't remember much else, but I know I really enjoyed it and I can't find it at all. It would mean a lot if you found it!

16.

Hello. Love this blog helping find fics for other people some of which I’ve read and loved. I’d love if you could help me find a fix where stiles, Jackson, Erika, issac and Boyd are selected to be seventh to the hale family. Mr. Harris is the servant and the living family is Cora Derek Laura Peter and the grandmother. Stiles of course is Derek’s servant and finds the truth out about his forgotten pass and what he is to Derek’s. Changing him Erika and issac into werewolf’s. Hope you can find!!

17.

Hello! I was wondering of you could help me find a fic. From what I remember, Derek comes home (from college I think) for the first time in years, and finds that his family loves Stiles, who he has never met. They hate each other in the beginning. Thank you for any help you can give, and thank you for all you do for this amazing fandom! :D

18.

hi!im looking for a sterek fic that has stiles staying in beacon hills as a supernatural doctor? and then he gets an email from derek that says that derek is hurt. stiles also has a bunch of journals full of information about the pack. and them stiles has a really bad leg injury. and the sheriff is dead. stiles listens to either mozart or bach to calm down, i can’t remember. please, help me. sorry if my descriptions are a little messy, im stressing over it bc i want to reread it. thanks.

19.

i’m trying to find a fic where the pack accidentally wishes on a shooting star about stiles, and they wake up in this alternate universe where stiles doesn’t know who they are and he’s being brought in by deputies, && they find out that stiles is a mage of some sort in another pack, i’ve been trying to find it forever. also thank you!

20.

For the prompt you asked: what about Stiles going crazy trying to plan the perfect Christmas party with the pack but everyone has a different religion or belief and Stiles is squishing a little of everything in there, the party wont even be on Christmas eve but in a different neutral date or smthng. And obviously since most of the pack is still busy with school(or college?)he ropes Derek into helping with preparations. Obviously they end up making a big mess out of everything. they also fight a lot untill Derek snaps and Stiles realizes that Derek's only problem with Christmas is he misses his family so much(and the only reason Stiles wants to party it's bc it makes him remember his mother)And the pack arrives at the new Hale house to find them like that, depressed and with a burnt out dinner in the kitchen, ligths popped and tree destroyed. And it magicaly snows in that moment(or maybe it's Stiles?)

21.

Hi, sorry for my bad english. I’m looking for sterek fic. I know I read it in AO3. I don’t remember much but almost in the end Stiles and Chris are arguing because all the stuff his family did. How bad Stiles was tortured by Gerard and I think Stiles was pemanently injured in one ear and one eye. And also Chris was yelling that he killed his father and Stiles said in the end it didn’t mather because He was damage forever. I really hope you can help me.

22.

hi, so i was hoping you could help me find a sterek fic where stiles and derek are childhood friends, and stiles is pining after him but derek and paige are dating, and stiles gets jealous when paige is sitting in his seat and almost has a mental breakdown? i think stiles starts ignoring him, and derek realizes that he no longer sees paige as his future mate but stiles. thank you!!

23.

Hi, Sterek fic I can't find. With Stiles drowning, bc of himself or feelings being too much, Derek notices and saves him, and the Derek warms him by turning into his alpha form? Stiles really like shifted Derek. Thank you guys! :)

24.

Hi I was wondering if you could help me find these 2 sterek fics where: 1. Derek and stiles are on a stakeout looking at a bank I think when someone approaches the car and Derek pulls stiles into his lap and stiles begins to question his sexuality and if Derek likes him. 2. God I can’t believe I didn’t save this one but I can only remember a scene in the fic where stiles and Derek were at a drive though movie theatre and they were kissing and it was all about Derek self healing. Pls help.

25.

Hey I'm trying to find this fic on archive that I read before but I can't seem to find it. If you don't do this sort of thing sorry in advance. But if you do all the teenagers are alive and Stiles is getting bullied by a group of douches so the pack challenge them to a series of games. Girls vs girls and boys vs boys. They win of course. Anyway if you know of this fic please let me know

26.

I need help finding a fic pls. Stiles meets Derek young (around 4ish) and they're soulmates (Derek knew when Claudia was still pregnant). There is def an age gap. Stiles grows up knowing Derek is his mate, and tries to mate with him, but because they spent so much time together while he was young, stiles's wolf develops quicker than it should and goes into heat, so they try to separate them. Mama S. and Hale family is still alive, and theres an alpha/alpha mate convention at some point. Thanks!

28.

hey! i'm looking for a fic where stiles is living on the east coast working for the government and then he saves somebody's life by recognizing that the agent was walking into a trap of a vampire coven so he starts working with this supernatural sector of the government (and people named jessica and jason i think) and gets sent to a national council thing and reconciles with derek and the pack after having left beacon hills and stuff

29.

Hi! ❤️ thank you so much for taking the time, I was just hoping someone could help find that sterek fic where it’s established relationship, and stiles works for a company because he came up with a famous slogan for some type of candy/food and the company rlly loves him, at one point goes on a business trip where someone tries to have an affair and stiles is like WHUt NO and goes back to Derek immediately feeling guilty even tho he was 100% loyal? Thank youuuu ❤️

30.

Hello! I love this blog a lot , keep up the good work. :) I was recently reading a fanfic where stiles is kidnapped by jennifer and she uses derek’s semen in a spell to make the “werewolf messiah”. Can you help me find it?

31.

I am looking for a fic. Derek is the alpha and he and stiles get together and cook meals. First Boyd is added to the group and then Isaac. Isaac becomes a foster of Boyd's parents. Then Erica is added. They give Erica the bite after discussing it with her parents. Please help

32.

Hi! Looking for a fic where Stiles is bitten by a fox at the zoo, changes into an actual fox, which means he’s terrified of the werewolves, including Scott and Derek. Derek has to lure him out with a trampoline (definitely inspired by that video of a fox on a trampoline). I looked everywhere I could think of but no luck :/ hopefully someone’s heard of it! Thank you!

34.

Hi! I’m scouting the internet for an old sterek fic I read once where stiles and Allison bond over the summer after s2 and in a drunken mistake Allison gets pregnant but it’s not romantic? I can’t find even a trace of it anywhere but I VIVIDLY remember it

35.

Not a fic Rex but could you help me find a fic? It’s been months apon months since I have read this fic but it’s a sterek fic and stiles was kinda of controlling and would never be a good bf to Derek so they never did anything derek wants to do only stiles. And I remember they talked about it and were getting better and Derek asked to go on a hike to show stiles this pond or something idk for sure and stiles almost says no and it’s angsty and amazing.

36.

Hi! I've been looking for a fic that I read a while ago, I don't know if it's been deleted or not and I don't remember it clearly. But from what I remember, at some point Derek stayed with Stiles and his dad in his wolf form because he was traumatized and felt like he was inconvenient to everybody? Sorry I'm not being very clear but if that rings any bell... Thank you!

37.

hi! There was this Sterek fic form Isaac's POV where he was Stiles' PA and he really shipped him with Derek, but all the other two do is fight-- and in the end, he finds out they've been married for around 5 years. Do you know it's linked, by any chance? :)

39.

Hey! I’ve been looking everywhere but I can’t find this Sterek fic and was wondering if you could help me? All I remember is that Stiles is pregnant, him and Jackson are really close friends, and something about ‘is Thursday a good day to tell your ex you’re pregnant?’. Thank you so much if you could help! ❤️

40.

Hello! Okay so I have my been here in a while, but I've ran out of fics to read. And I'm not sure if you guys are still active. But do you guys have some where Sterek start dating, but it's because one of them like the other and the other one thought, "why not?" But they end up falling for the other. Sorry I know this is too specific. :/ but thank you!!!

41.

I'm looking for a fic that Stiles was invited to Derek's wedding to Julia/Jennifer, but it turns out he was magically controlled to go along with everything so she'd have control of the pack???? Eventual sterek.

42.

Hiiii! I'm wondering if you can help me. I read this fic forever ago and it was a supernatural FBI type situation. Stiles was magic and sold potions on the side (I know to at least Ethan). Deucalion was selling drugs that were killing people. I remember that the drugs made you hover in the air before you died and Stiles got drugged (also pretty sure he was a suspect). Derek was an agent. Thanks in advance!

43.

Hey I'm really sorry to bother i am looking for a fic were stiles and derek are in a long term relationship but derek starts to neglect stiles so he decides to leave for a new apartment and derek realizes how much he has been missing. thank you i hope you can help me

44.

Hey! So I’m looking for 2 sterek fics that might have been deleted but I’m not sure. The first, someone is poisoning the wolves to makes them shift, and stiles and Derek get locked in a cage so that Derek would kill stiles. The second one, the pack goes to college, but Derek breaks up with stiles to keep him safe, and stiles starts taking pain killers. The Alpha pack shows up, but at the end Peter tries to kill Scott or Derek to become an alpha again. Any idea? Thank you!!!

45.

Hey I'm looking for a sterek fic and going out of my mind because I cant find it! All I remember is that they had at least one kid together and in the epilogue or sequel or something they were having a family dinner where their college age oldest daughter was bring home her boyfriend to meet the family. And I think the younger brother was non-binary of some sort and they were worried how the boyfriend was going to handle that. And werewolves existed but still a secret. Thank you in advance!!

50.

Im sorry i might be stupid but i cant find the askbox, im looking for a fic where stiles and derek are mates and there might be a abo dynamic, derek knows they are mates before stiles is born because he meet Claudia while she i pregnant, they start of young in the fic but get older as i goes. I must have been an explicit one. Sorry for any inconvinience

51.

a.

Hi! Looking for a stereo college au where stiles is obsessed with Greek mythology and even got a tattoo of it. Some internal homophobia in there too. Thank you in advance!

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

b.

hi! i am looking for this sterek fic i read last year I think. Stiles and Derek are both in college and Stiles is crazy about greek mythology - has some of the stuff tattooed on him. Derek is kind of closeted and maybe a little internally homophobic but is crazy about Stiles. Stiles has some Dark Things that happened to him back in BH.....Eventually Derek gets him a ticket to go to Greece? Any ideas? Thank you in advance!

I think these two are asks for the same fic, if not I seperated them in a. and b. so let me know the latter if they are not the same.

53.

Hello, sorry I have another ask. I'm looking for a fic where werewolves are known and the hale family is alive. Stiles has to spend time with every member of the pack to determine compatibility I think? They all dislike him. Laura hates him because they had a previous encounter and she bruises him. It's a sterek fic I think. Thanks!

54.

there's a fic i read years ago about stiles and derek both being accountants and working together. i think stiles was a new employee? possibly a student/graduate? sorry i dont have much information, its been years since i read it and i just randomly thought about it but cant find it

55.

Hey! I swear I got this Fic from y’all but I cannot find it now for the life of me. It’s a college AU where stiles rushes fraternities on a whim and meets Boyd. Boyd is a legacy for Derek’s fraternity and joins them, Stiles ends up rushing and joining Scott’s fraternity. There’s a whole bunch of pranking that ensues including Stiles stealing Derek’s pledge paddle... it’s a fantastic fic but I can’t find it

56.

hi!!! i was wondering if you know the fic where the pack finds actual wolf cubs and decides to raise them??? i remember it being a WIP and the wolves names were sköll and haiti (?). btw: i love this blog so much 😭😭💝

57.

hi! I’ve been looking for a fic where stiles (for a reason that I forget) pretends to be gay and ends up dating Derek while still pretending to be gay and then actually falls for Derek in the end. I can’t seem to remember what it’s called and I really wanna reread it. Hope you can find it!

58.

Hi, I’m wondering if you could help me find a fic. One where Derek had to sacrifice his love for Stiles to keep his family alive (some sort of curse on him to make him fall out of love) and magic!Stiles does everything to break the curse? If you know it please help

59.

Hi! I’m looking for a Sterek fic on Ao3 where the day after Stiles and Derek finally go forward in their relationship this random ass guy shows up, claims he’s an old friend of Derek’s from New York and convinces the whole pack, minus Stiles, too. From what I remember he used their names to place a spell on them to control them. Derek attacks Stiles then kicks him out of the group, Lydia shows up and helps Stiles break the spell because she’s queen, and they get the guy arrested. Plz help?

60.

Hey guys no pressure but theres been a fic stuck in the back of my head for months and I can’t find it. What I remember is that the pack are in a bar when a siren does a siren thing and everyone in the bar is under his spell and it was something d&s could resist only because they were truely in love. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense, English is hard for a dyslexic

62.

Hey!! First of all...... thank u so much this is always so helpful..... Second of all, I can’t remember the name and hopefully you can help?? It’s Sterek, it’s not an AU. Derek leaves and moves to Montana? Colorado? Something like that and coincidentally Stiles ends up going there for college and slow build???? And knowing these boys, some Angst™️

63.

UGH!! Can you help? Stiles goes to stay with Derek in Brazil?

64.

HELP, goin crazy looking for fic I wanna reread, Remember tons specific odd details. Listing them w/ hopes someone knows what I'm taking about! ABO adjacent, Stiles heat is called a wetting, Stile's dad gives his hand away only cuz its good alpha Derek, marital/mate tradition w/ fancy ornate bathtubs, Stiles has skirt w/ embroidered list of his skills on it, Derek bad a verbalized emotions. Regency era. Stiles has a miscarriage w/ lot of self blame. Issac is Derek's ward since he's a kid. Aaah?!

70.

Hello I'm trying to find a fic where when Stiles was young (and with the help of Lydia or Scott) did a spell to never find his soulmate. Like it was: he will have blue eyes, no green and brown; he will be strong enough to lift a car; he will play cello. The point of the spell being to not find him. Later he meet Derek and freaks out because he is perfect (multicolored eyes, werewolf strength...). Please help me find it! Thanks

72.

I am looking for a fic that starts with Stiles and Derek researching but then Stiles gets turned on and him and Derek end up hooking up. It's a 5+1 fic

73.

Hi! Can you help me find the fic where Stiles, Sheriff and a few other people from town were held hostage by werewolves(?) but also some humans I think and they were planning to escape but stiles said they should stay put. And at the end or towards the end Derek bursts in as a full wolf and stiles has to talk him down so he’ll shift back and the people who held him hostage know him as one of the most dangerous in the Hale pack.

76.

Hi Mod(s)! I am currently looking for a fic about magic Stiles. I don't remember any of the pairings, but I vividly remember a conversation between Stiles, Allison, and Lydia. To prove that his magic is real, Stiles sets his lacrosse stick on fire. Allison is prejudiced toward magic and says that Stiles could probably light a house on fire, and Stiles responds that he could, but then he would die of organ failure. Thank you for your help! I appreciate the time and care you put into this blog!

77.

Hey, thanks for all you do. Do you perhaps know a fic that is basically a rewrite of season 1 but Stiles has a dog, and Derek gets jealous of the dog, honestly I've been searching everywhere for this

79.

I have a question

all I can remember is Alison is matriarch of the hunters, Stiles is sassy as fuck... I think he was magic. I believe there was a coffee shop showdown where Alison didn’t realize that Stiles was there... I can’t remember if it’s a recent fix or something I stumble across finding new docs to read.

Cheers

80.

Hello! I've been trying to comb my way through your blog and searching google but I haven't been able to find the fic I've been looking for so I hope you can help me (and I hope I'm not missing the post and making a duplicate)

The story is a sterek fic where Derek goes to stiles for help because hes developing a sexual problem and only trusts stiles to look up the answer. Stiles find out it's likely a mate thing and suggests derek figures out who hes been spending a lot of time with. Derek checks out and crosses off each of the pack before settling on Scott (because of his scent, thinking its what's triggering the response), turns out its stiles and that stiles has a very active libido and that's what's causing Derek's problem.

I swear I had it saved but I can't find it in any of my bookmarks. So, any help you can provide at finding the fic would be super helpful! Thank you!

81.

hi, hoping for some help finding a fic? from around 2015 - sterek (either established couple or they got together during +), there's a big bad that mind controls or possesses Derek and makes him stab stiles. then in the next part stiles trains with the argents and they're still trying to fight the big bad. there's an OC that stiles is jealous of bc she is able to bring Derek out of the mind control/possession when he wasn't able to. that's everything I remember. any help is appreciated! thanks!!

82.

There is this fic that I cannot remember the name of. It’s a very slow burn where stiles and Derek once they decide to be together, wait until 18 for kissing (before that they do Eskimo kisses) and then to like 21 or something for sex. It’s really sweet and cute and stiles is understanding of his trauma. It may have been a de-aged derek, cursed, bonded, or fake/pretend relationship? If you know, I will love you forever and ever +1.

83.

I'm looking for a long Teen Wolf fic. Here's what I remember.

Stiles left to join the FBI. Cut ties with Beacon Hill. Never looked back. Becomes an FBI wunderkind.

On behalf of the FBI he goes to some werewolf or Supernatural Council event with his unit. It's a complete surprise the Beacon Hill pack is there, they're all cold shouldering each other. Everyone has grown into their own, and the pack is beyond thriving. Derek is some high muckity muck.

Scrooby doo mystery plot stuff, ends in Sterek.

It's long and has some time stamp sequels.

Does this sound familiar? I've been looking for it to reread.

85.

I’ve been looking for this one sterek fic where stiles has a crush on Derek and Derek is like in high school while stiles is still a kid. And like stiles comes over to the Hale house to hang out with Derek and he catches Derek making out with a girl (maybe Kate) and it breaks his heart.

86. 

Hi :) I’m looking for a fic where Stiles and Derek fake being in a relationship when Derek has to go to some werewolf retreat. Stiles learns magick and can see strings that run between…mates, maybe? I think there’s also a toddler named Luca running around. Idk I remember reading this YEARS ago and would really like to find it again🥺

87.

Hey. I was wandering if you knew of a fic that’s kinda oldish. But stiles and Derek meet and they’re like mates or soulmates or something. Anyway stiles pack which is like Scott, Allison, Lydia, Danny etc have been cursed by a witch and I thinks they’re getting their power drained or something? They’re lived are in danger and Derek helps coz Stiles is his mate. Possible chance they’re all at college

88.

hi! I am looking for a sterek fic. stiles works two jobs and is really tired driving home one day and accidentally rear ends derek (who is a cop?) who then comforts him when he freaks out. it is abo au and the pack are included. thanks in advance!

89.

Do you know a ao3 fanfic about sterek where stiles just presented as an omega and gets taken by the government to be the omega in dereks military group?

90.

Hey I was wondering if you could find this fic for me? I’ve been looking lol night and I can’t find it anywhere. I know it’s on AO3 if that helps at all.

So it’s a royalty au and pretty much Derek is a werewolf and he invades stiles kingdom under peters orders but when Derek gets to the palace stiles father isn’t there as stiles has hidden him and he ends up marrying stiles and stiles is like tricky and stuff and there’s one scene where they are in the garden and dereks soldiers end up in a field of wolvesbane and gets really sick and stiles goes in to save him and he gets really mad at his guards for letting the wolf just walk into it. And Peter is bad and intends on killing derek and stiles realises this and tells him and Derek ends up killing him. I think it would be classified as enemies to lovers? I hope that’s enough info to go off of

Thank you so much in advance I really appreciate it if you find it!

91.

Hi I have been looking for this fic for literally years, all I remember is that stiles and allison had a kid together years before when they were both on the outs from the pack in LA, but they come back and scott and allison end up together again, and derek left beacon hills for years but comes back and settles but keeps leaving and stiles is upset—eventual sterek of course—and there’s something big going on supernaturally? And stiles gets intense migraines? Honestly it’s been so long I could have imagined this haha but I will be so grateful if someone has heard of this! Thank you for all you do!

92.

Hi there! I read a fic a looong time ago and unfortunately, I can't find it. What I remember, is that Stiles and Derek move out of Beacon Hills and also get their own dog. I also think at first Stiles was on his own and he moved away for himself, not necessarily bc he was pushed out of the pack, but that may have been in a different fic and I'm just mixing them up. So sorry for being so vague! I hope you may be able to find it

93.

hi! i'm searching for a fix where the pack goes on vacation and derek and stiles have to share a room. basically stiles thinks that derek doesnt like his scent and leaves the windows open and they freeze their asses off lol. i think it was in a cabin or something in the woods.

94.

Hiya! Not sure if you’re still taking SOS Fic Searches. I cannot for the life of me remember anything more than a sterek fic with stubborn Derek / Stiles where Jackson asked Stiles out on a date on Valentines Day knowing Derek would be jealous, but when Derek doesn’t step in immediately, after the “date” Jackson texts Stiles “you’ll thank me for this” and then kisses him on the porch and Derek wolfs out and chases him — thus allowing for them to discuss their feelings and get together (but also keep it a secret from the pack for being assholes and making group chats without them)

95.

i’m looking for a fic that starts with stiles and derek getting into a fender bender. it’s in a universe where everyone registers as a dom, sub, or switch. stiles is a sub and derek is a dom. derek works with scott. after the accident stiles brings derek cookies and brownies at work. derek is some sort of officer or something that works with dom/sub rights or something?? there’s a protest which stiles goes to and it gets violent and at another point someone vandalizes where derek works. stiles and jackson are friends and jackson coaches lacrosse. i’m sorry if this is vague but i appreciate the help!

96.

I'm trying to find a fic and I'm hoping you can help- I've read it before but can't for the life of me find it on Ao3, and it's killing me! It's one where Stiles is magical, Scott pretty much goes insane- and there is a super amazing scene towards the end where Stiles winds up magically taking Scott's wolf away and giving it to Melissa, who lovingly embraces it. It was a great read that I could have sworn I bookmarked :(

97.

Hi! I’m not sure if you can help me find a lost fic. But I thought I’d give it a shot and ask. I read this Sterek fic within the last couple of months and i remember very little unfortunately. Basically I remember that stiles was allowed to sleep in dereks bed and Derek was acting like that was no big deal, but everyone else in the pack thought it was a massive deal because wolves and scent and stuff and I remember one of the women in the pack was pregnant but no idea who. This is so convoluted and I’m sorry. If you can’t find it no worries! Thanks!!

#lost fics #lost fic masterpost #sterek fic rec #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinksi

[lovelyirony]

"a single thread of gold/tied me to you" for ironhusbands?💛

If there is one thing that James Rhodes cannot stand, it is “love at first sight.” In his professional and personal opinion, there is no such thing. It is simply a concept that Disney invented so they could make cutesy stories about princesses finding their princes immediately and give people hope about love, but in the end it is all about the money. 

“You’re a cynic,” his sister Jeanie tells him over breakfast. She flings a stray Cheerio at him. “You are a cynic and you’re never gonna date someone because they’re going to think you suck.” 

“People are going to date me and realize that I’m a good, realistic choice,” James responds, sticking his tongue out and stealing a drink of her orange juice. “People are going to date you and you’ll be disappointed because you watched too many romantic movies and you let it taint reality.” 

“Loser.” 

“Dork.” 

And then he’s in college. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t meet Tony Stark for two years despite the fact that every single year, they live in the same building on different floors. He has had to evacuate about twenty different times because Tony cannot stop himself from doing experiments in his room. 

The third year, James is an RA and required to live with one of the residents because of “experimental tendencies.” They don’t elaborate on why he’s stuck with a roommate, what the tendencies are, or who he is. 

“You’ll know,” comes the email from the coordinator, and he has never wanted to curse so badly in an email before, but here he is. 

But he’ll deal with it. Just like how he’s going to deal with everything this year. 

-

He thought he would get the room to himself for a little while before everyone moved in and brought everything and he would check them in. 

But no. 

There’s his roommate, lounging on a bed, and grinning. 

“Simply enlightening to meet you, James. They told me I could come back if I had a trusted roommate.” 

“And they stuck you with me?” 

“Well they were going to stick me with some dude who got the email, and then immediately transferred to Dartmouth. So I think you were the second option.” 

“Great.” 

He hates life, maybe just a little bit. 

Tony wants to do things. Which is fine, but he isn’t really in the mood to have the conversation of the fact that he can do things, but he doesn’t want to do them. He has to focus on being an RA and preparing for the Air Force. 

“Why prepare for that when you could be living?” Tony asks, lounging on Rhodey’s bed. 

Oh yeah, that’s new too. Rhodey. Apparently, “Jim,” “James,” and “Rhodes” were unacceptable nicknames. 

What is acceptable is Rhodey. And of course, the “honey bunches of oats” and “loveliest RA of all time in the history of MIT” and “sugar-puff” and “sweetness overload” 

He’s responding to all of them, by the way. 

Rhodey didn’t think his mental health would get this bad by the beginning. He had actually scheduled it to be around October. 

- 

And then the students come. There are nervous freshmen, the sophomores who don’t say anything as they move in and get settled, and the returning juniors and seniors greet Rhodey and Tony with familiarity and laugh about the posters that Rhodey’s worked hard on. 

“So, we’re having joint-RA’s or something?” Miles asks, throwing his comforter over his bed. 

“No, we’re not,” Rhodey says, hoping his expression is somewhere along the lines of not-showing-emotion. “Tony’s just...” 

“I’m simply too exhausting for Housing to deal with anymore, so I have a babysitter,” Tony says with a wink. “And who better than our lovely Rhodey?” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sugar-puff?” 

“Still no.” 

Miles snorts. 

“This year should be good. Tony, you gonna pull any fire alarms this year?” 

“Rhodey has expressly banned experiments in the building, unfortunately,” Tony sighs. “It’s like he doesn’t want everyone to bond over having to leave at two in the morning...” 

“Nothing says bonding like hating a rude wake-up call,” Rhodey says, and Tony nods. “We’ll let you get all moved in, Miles. Remember that floor dinner is at six!” 

“You got it!” 

Rhodey gives Tony a look. 

“You know, I can do this on my own.” 

“Aw shutterbug, I’m not gonna let you.” 

“Are you really this intent on following me around?” 

“Well, what if I want to overtake your position next year? What if you tragically get a raging headache and it’s up to me to know what to do? What if your mother kidnaps you and never lets you come here again?” 

“I’m sure the college kids will be fine,” Rhodey stresses. “And I’ll still have access to email and the groupchat, genius.” 

Tony just laughs. 

“Alright, okay. I gotta go get some shit for my new class. The teacher sent out an email stating that the textbook is mandatory, and we have to do book work. This feels like eighth grade all over again.” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Is it for Professor Casper?” 

“Yeah, did you have him?” 

“Yeah, you don’t need the book. You can find it online for free, and he never collects the book work. It’s a waste of time to get the book.” 

“You’re an angel-and-a-half, love of my life,” Tony says. “And for that, I’ll snag an extra pudding for you at the dining hall.” 

“Is it vanilla or chocolate this time?” 

“Chocolate with cookies in it.” 

“Oh my god, seriously? Already?” 

“Guess they must have had a jump,” Tony teases. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

- 

Tony has a specific way of getting people to open up and actually talk with others that Rhodey envies. 

If Tony wasn’t so hellbent on convincing the group that if Miles and Kamala create a distraction, they could totally sneak out one of the pictures of the mascot. 

“We are not doing that the first week,” Rhodey says. “Maybe the last.” 

“It’s a beaver,” Tony whines. “Who’s gonna miss it, a Canadian?” 

“It’ll be the floor bonding activity,” Gwen says, finishing off her fifth (maybe sixth) slice of pizza. “Better than talking about your feelings about the campus or whatever.” 

“No.” 

“We’ll convince him soon,” Tony whispers conspiratorially. “Also, who here is a freshman? I have some advice regarding the math classes and which teacher you want...” 

- 

Rhodey does have to admit, that sometimes it’s easier to have Tony around, who is so willing to stay up until the late hours because of some stupid drama or to help Peter at his chemistry homework and also ease his anxiety about leaving his Aunt May all alone. 

Tony isn’t all wild and crazy as stories have led him up to be. 

"I wore out all my crazy freshman year after going to two frat parties and deciding that no one knew anything about how to have fun,” he declared. “I mean, come on. Why have beer pong when you could quiz people about obscure fashion facts?” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Don’t make that the next game night. Hey, what do you think about having a movie night this Friday? I’m thinking something not scary, we’ve been doing a lot of those.” 

“It is October, what do you mean not scary?” 

“Some of our residents don’t like scary,” Rhodey reminds him. “Honestly, I think we could do with a bit of Halloween fun.” 

“Hocus Pocus? Double Double, Toil and Trouble? If you want to be slightly scared of old women and clown parties, I’d recommend it.” 

“You weren’t scared of clowns beforehand?” 

“Of course not, I wanted what they have; the ability to fit eighteen people in a car.” 

“Couldn’t you just gut the car?” 

“Not the same effect, honey-pie. Not the same effect.” 

Miles and Peter both end up lobbying for Hocus Pocus, with little to no competition other than a promise that the other choice would be shown later on in the semester. 

They’ve shoved all the chairs together and multiple people have brought out their own chairs, and Tony saves a seat for Rhodey under the premise of “Rhodey organized it, he gets a seat.” 

It’s a tough squeeze, and Tony and Rhodey get all tangled up together. 

Tony smells like expensive cologne and coffee, and he grins up at Rhodey and maybe the lights from the TV aren’t bright enough, but for a moment his heart skips a beat. 

Well. Shit. 

When he goes home for Thanksgiving break, Tony seems a bit...sad. 

“What, your mom cook the worst turkey in the world?” he jokes. 

"Sure,” Tony says, eyes unfocused. “Yeah.” 

"Dude, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says, turning. His smile brightens, eyes crinkling. “Why wouldn’t I be fine, buttercup?” 

Rhodey gives him a look. 

“I’m gonna call you when I get home, okay? You better answer.” 

“I always answer to you,” Tony says, and damn Rhodey’s mind shouldn’t be going where it is. 

Rhodey waves, gets in his car, and thinks about how Tony most likely has a problem on his mind, how he should probably not room with him, and his Aunt Ada’s green beans. 

God, he loves those green beans. 

- 

Tony is alone for Thanksgiving. Jarvis and Ana got an opportunity to visit Aunt Peggy in England, and he knew that they hadn’t seen her in two years. He didn’t want to be selfish, have them stay just for him. 

So, it looked like deli turkey sandwiches were in his future. If there’s still some soda in the fridge, maybe that too. 

He sighs, and turns towards the lab. Dum-E’s not even here, as he didn’t fit in the travel car, so Tony let him loose on the floor to “keep guard” over the dorms and make sure that no one broke in or stole the cords that he knows he accidentally left in the common room. 

The odd thing is, he had almost told Rhodey. Almost let him know that he’d be alone for Thanksgiving, but is that weird? That’s weird, right? To tell people your emotions just...it’s so messy. 

They have to deal with it, you have to deal with the fact that they’re dealing with it, and then other people know that you both are dealing with it and it’s just a whole mess of epic proportions, you know? 

-

Rhodey finds out on Thanksgiving, when they’re doing the parade on the TV and there’s a new snippet on the gossip channel when they go on commercial break. 

Howard and Maria Stark, vacationing off the Mediterranean Coast. 

“It’s reported that Tony Stark has preferred to spend his time in the vacation home,” the news reporter said, her smile wide and placid. 

“Tony’s lucky,” Mama says, wrapping golden yarn around her fingers as she works on another sweater. (A small one, a tiny one. It’s for the new baby in the family for Christmas.) “He tell you about it?” 

“He’s not there,” Rhodey says numbly. 

“He’s not?” Dad says, eyes raised over the newspaper. 

“No.” 

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Dad asks. 

“No, no he didn’t.” 

“Well then. Next time he’ll come with us.” 

Rhodey nods. 

“Christmas?” 

“Clear it with his parents if they’re not spending time together.” 

“Got it.” 

- 

Rhodey’s Thanksgiving is...nice. He can’t stop thinking about Tony going alone. 

So he calls him. It’s two in the morning, he might be asleep, and Rhodey’s not sure if he got the “eight” in the last four digits right or not. 

“Howard’s out, who is it?” comes a sleep-addled voice. 

“Good thing I’m not looking for Howard, Tones.” 

“Rhodey? Why are you calling me?” Tony asks, and Rhodey can imagine his eyes lighting up and that’s...that’s something. 

“You spent Thanksgiving alone, I wanted to see how you were.” 

“Aw, checking in your residents?” 

“Checking in on you.” 

Tony stills for a moment at the phone. 

Besides Jarvis, no one had ever really checked in on him. 

“Um, I’m fine?” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I mean, it sucks to be alone on Thanksgiving, but I don’t really like any of the foods that people usually have, so I’ve been fine. I ordered wraps from my favorite place.” 

“Good to hear, good to hear.” 

There’s a silent pause for a moment, the one where they both try to find something to say. 

“Listen,” Rhodey says. “If you’re ever stuck for a holiday alone, you’re coming with me, okay?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your family,” Tony says softly. 

“They all wanna meet you. Jeanie says she can kick your ass at ice hockey!” 

“You guys can actually play ice hockey?” 

“With limited degrees of success.” 

“Oh, now that I gotta see some time.”

- 

They come back to college, and Tony is back to his usual antics, greeting everyone who comes through the elevator with a shower of shredded paper. 

“Welcome to Winter Wonderland! Next stop: suffering through finals!” 

“Ugh,” Kamala groans, “stop it. Stop making me think. I have to memorize Byronic poetry. Do you know how boring that is?” 

"Speak for yourself, I have to build a wooden chair,” Riri whines. “Who works with wood these days? It’s so old-fashioned.” 

“Create the most bitching chair alive,” Tony says. “And I’ll help you with the necessary tools. Your professor isn’t expecting much, mainly just that it can support the weight of two people, you’ll be fine. Kam, Byronic poetry is not that bad, you will be good. We will bake cookies.” 

“Can we even bake cookies? I thought our floor got banned from kitchen usage,” Peter says. “Hey Rhodey.” 

“Hey kiddo,” Rhodey says. “First of all, yes we are banned from the kitchen. Second, we’re only banned and get in trouble so long as they know we’re there. And since more than half of us are nocturnal creatures and I am willing to wake up to help, we can bake cookies.” 

There are cheers around the room, and Tony mocks offense. 

“You don’t trust me to help the future youth?” 

“Given that we’re not allowed to rent out any more equipment from the front office? Yes.” 

“You wound me, darling.” 

“Only as much as kitchen equipment goes, sweetheart.” 

Tony grins. 

“Aw, you missed me.” 

“Yeah, I did. Now come on, you gotta help me with a billboard about the movie night this Friday. We thinking a romantic comedy or something mildly terrifying but probably won an award?” 

“Mildly terrifying!” Gwen calls from her dorm. “If we watch two people falling in love I’ll choke! We’ve been doing it all year!” 

“We’ve only watched, like, three rom-coms?” 

Gwen rolls her eyes, as if he’s missed something completely obvious. 

“You don’t get it. I’ll try again later. Hey, are we doing floor dinner tonight?” 

“They’re serving pizza sandwiches, so obviously,” Tony says. “We will feast like kings.” 

- 

Christmas is a festive time for Tony. He loves it, and goes overboard with decorations. Rhodey lets him, because you can’t stop Tony once he loves something (and Rhodey is kind of. Fond of him). 

Pepper comes up from the fifth floor, whistling. 

“Damn, Jim. I knew you would do a good job with decorations, but not this good. Is this...did you buy a miniature village? How was this budgeted?” 

“It wasn’t,” Rhodey says. “Tony’s really into Christmas and the floor convinced him that the theme should be Christmas Village. He’s been crafting identities for each villager instead of studying for any exam. The craft store employees know him by name now.” 

“Well, we all have our vices. You two seem to get along well. Housing is pleased that he hasn’t blown up anything yet.” 

“If they try to serve cheese ravioli again, he might.” 

“That’s a problem for Dining,” Pepper reminds him.  

“Still, it’s abominable. Where did they get them, bottom of the Hudson River?” 

She snorts, adjusting her shirt. 

“Probably, but hey. They still got eaten, even if that one freshman threw them all back up at the entrance.” 

“It was payback, they were vile.” 

Tony waltzes into the lobby, arms filled with glittering tinsel. 

“We are not letting you hang that,” Pepper says, gaping at it all. “Do you know how hard it is to get rid of tinsel?”

“We’ll manage!” Tony says. “Also, are you free at six-thirty?” 

“No, that’s when we’re getting dinner on my floor, what do you need?” 

“Just that little tidbit of knowledge,” Tony says, looking down at his phone. 

A message buzzes from the groupchat, and Rhodey glances at it: 

We are a go for the real Christmas tree. I have the vacuum, and a believable lie. Rhodey’s gonna tell us when the RA on duty is gonna come so we can hide it. 

Rhodey looks at Tony, grinning. He smiles right back. 

“Is there some weird roommate telekinesis I’m missing here?” Pepper asks. 

“Yes,” Rhodey says. “We’re discussing dinner plans.” 

Another text from Harley: 

I’m already picking one out with Peter. I have good taste. When is the ornament-making party? 

Pepper looks at them. 

“You’re planning something that I probably would have to disapprove of. I’ll tell people I got your floor watched tonight.” 

“Pepper, light of my life, my absolute sunshine? You’re the best,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey-darling, help me with tinsel?” 

He can’t say no. Simple as that. 

That is how tinsel gets strung throughout his hair as he’s watching Tony climb onto chairs that shouldn’t be climbed on to hang it from everywhere. 

“People deserve to have a good-looking Christmas,” he says. “Besides, I wanna win the decoration contest.” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Okay, okay. I think we got it in the bag.” 

Later on in the week, Tony can be seen flitting about from room to room with help and jokes to lighten the mood. 

Rhodey has to admit, being an RA with Tony around is...nice. Better than he thought. 

And maybe he has feelings. He’s not going to say anything about it. After all, they’re roommates. He also isn’t allowed to have a relationship with anyone on the floor, regardless of anything. 

It doesn’t mean every RA follows it. God knows Sharon’s snuck down to the fourth floor to see Sam near-about every night, and her residents usually keep it a pretty good secret. 

Still. There’s also everything else to consider, and the fact that he doesn’t even know if Tony likes him like that. 

He doesn’t have to focus on it. 

- 

At least, not until the week of finals when he’s dying and Tony’s made him peppermint hot chocolate and sits on his bed, just about an inch away from his notes for his history class. 

“Do you remember what you told me on the phone?” Tony asks softly. 

“You up to compete against Jeanie for this year’s ice hockey championship?” Rhodey asks, smiling. 

Tension releases from Tony’s shoulders. 

“Only so long as you’ll have me.” 

“Always, genius. Always.” 

- 

After the last resident leaves for the holiday and Rhodey checks in with those who are staying, he and Tony hit the road, dragging suitcases behind them. 

“Are you sure I’m allowed?” Tony asks. “I can always find a hotel along the way...” 

“Mama wants to meet you, I keep telling them a ton about you,” Rhodey says, laughing. “They told me they want to hear your side of the great Glitter Debacle.” 

Tony laughs. 

“You mean the truth?” 

“Uh, I’m sorry, how are you going to convince them that green glitter was needed? And that you could clean it out of carpet?” 

“Determination and grit?” 

Rhodey laughs again as they pull onto the highway. 

- 

After a couple of hours, they make it to Rhodey’s home. His sister comes out, hugs for both. 

“Good to meet you Tony,” Jeanie says. “I’ve heard a lot, and I think we’re going to get along awesomely after I tell you every single embarrassing thing that Jim’s ever done.” 

“Only if I get to share stories too,” Tony teases, grinning. “Aw, they call you Jim?” 

“What do you call him?” Jeanie asks. 

“Jim-Jam, angel-dear, sugar-puff, Rhodey. You know, the usual.” 

Jeanie snorts, taking one of Rhodey’s bags. 

“Calling you the first one from now on.” 

“Tony did you have to let her hear any of those?” Rhodey asks, exasperated in a teasing manner. 

“Of course I did,” Tony sing-songed. “Now after you, I’m sure your mom is waiting to hug the living daylights out of you.” 

- 

It’s not until Rhodey gets all settled in and Tony is downstairs competing with his dad in a round of chess that Jeanie sits on his bed, the intention to annoy. 

But it’s...different. She looks at him. 

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” 

Rhodey stills. 

“You wouldn’t have told him he could come here if you didn’t.” 

“You’re right.” 

“I’m always right,” Jeanie says, flipping braids over her shoulder. “Nice of you to finally realize that I’m the smart one.” 

Rhodey doesn’t say anything as she saunters out of the room. 

He makes the decision not to tell Tony. 

If it goes wrong and if Tony says no, he doesn’t want it to be an awkward family event but more importantly, the most awkward rest of the year ever. He can say it as they’re moving out, and that’s that. 

He tells Jeanie as such. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in love,” she says as they’re preparing the soup for dinner.” 

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Rhodey says. “I do believe in love. There’s a difference.” 

There’s a hell of a difference. 

First sight, you don’t know everything. The second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on? Oh you learn so much more, and they become that more important. 

He learns that he doesn’t mind picking up tinsel, so long as Tony is laughing and singing along to all of the worst Christmas songs ever, and maybe. Just maybe he could picture looking at Tony underneath the fairy-lights that they hung in the dorm room for all time. 

Love is terrifyingly exhilarating, even when it isn’t supposed to be. 

Rhodey did not think his heart would race so much as Tony listened to his Mama talk about her wedding china, about the utter disaster that his father was. 

“He forgot his tie,” Mama said, smiling. “Oh my lord, my mother had a cow about that. I thought he looked kind of dashing.” 

Tony’s eyes drift towards the wedding pictures, which are slightly shaky, but everyone had such wide smiles. 

It’s a far cry from the publicity photos from the Stark wedding, Rhodey remembers the solemn expressions, the stuff tuxedos. 

“I love it,” Tony says softly. He looks at Rhodey across the table, setting down the final plate. “Tell me more, Mrs. Rhodes.” 

“Call me Mama, honey, Mrs. Rhodes is for people I don’t like that much. I think you’re gonna be my new favorite.” 

“Even over me?” Jeanie says, grinning as she kisses Dad on the cheek. “I’m your favorite.” 

“You’re my favorite until now,” Mama says. “Don’t think I don’t know that you skipped out on setting the table because Tony was here and graciously offered.” 

“It was nothing,” Tony says. “Just happy to help. Thank you for letting me stay at your home for the holidays.” 

“We’re always lucky to have guests,” Dad says, setting down the main dish. “Now let’s eat.” 

Family dinner is a brand new concept to Tony. He’s had maybe four or five of them, and the majority of which were staged for some holiday shoot or some “celebrating American values” shoot. 

It was awkward, weird, and he didn’t get why. 

Now, he does. Jeanie has been steadily moving mashed potatoes away from Rhodey’s plate, and Mama caught her eye and winked, distracting him with talk about his college major and news about the neighbors. 

Mr. Rhodes watches it all with a careful eye and a lax smile. 

After dinner, they play cards. 

It should be boring, but Jeanie puts on an old record and Rhodey keeps trying to count cards, and Tony didn’t think you could count cards in a game of Spoons. 

“You can’t, he’s just a try-hard,” Jeanie stage-whispers. 

“You-” 

Jeanie laughs, rolling herself out of Rhodey’s grasp as he chases her around the family room. Tony leans back into the couch, and shouts with surprise as Jeanie trips Rhodey into the couch. 

His body twists, and Rhodey’s facing him on the couch and they’re close and with the fire roaring in the fireplace and the Christmas lights outside shining through the windows, it’s almost magic. 

It is magic, but Rhodey is kind of terrified of that. 

Tony breathes in, breathes out. 

“Hello sugar-puff,” he says. 

“Hello genius,” Rhodey says, a smile on his face. 

Oh. 

The night does not get much sleep. 

Tony doesn’t sleep anyway, but Rhodey finds that quite often he can’t sleep without some softly-playing rock in the background, doesn’t matter if it is a highly-questionable AC/DC song. That and Tony softly murmuring about his plans, and it’s like a personalized lullaby. 

Rhodey cannot sleep. Tony’s in the guest room, and he can’t sleep. 

There’s a soft knock on his door. 

Tony’s there in shorts and a t-shirt that’s probably expensive, but he’ll never say if it is or not. 

“Can I...I can’t sleep.” 

“Get in here, Tones. I can’t sleep either.” 

The bed is a tight squeeze, but they make it work. 

Rhodey whispers until he drifts off to sleep about Christmas and school and everything else. 

Tony watches with quiet eyes, interjecting with his own stories occasionally. 

They fall asleep tangled up together, and Rhodey doesn’t mind it one bit, not as he pulls Tony in closer. 

-

Waking up is bittersweet, honestly. Rhodey has Tony in his arms, and that’s...that’s perfect. He thinks this is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened in his lifetime. 

“It’s too early, darling,” Tony groans. The light from outside is already peeking through the blinds, and he has stuffed his head right back into a pillow. 

“Jeanie’ll be here soon to bother us for Christmas breakfast,” Rhodey says. “And unless you want her pouncing on the bed and landing on wrong everything, we better get down there.” 

Tony smiles sleepily, stretching. 

“Thanks for letting me sleep in your room, honey-bunch.” 

“No problem,” Rhodey said. “Missed the constant AC/DC and late-night discussions about robotics.” 

“Not like I did much talking, Mr. Sap,” Tony teased. “Or was it me who mentioned that they had a favorite plate for dinner?” 

“Listen, it’s superior and you did not once interrupt that story to complain. I think I did a great job explaining it.” 

Tony laughs. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed, okay?” 

“Not until after present unwrapping,” Rhodey says. “We stay in pajamas.” 

“I’m cold,” Tony whines. 

Rhodey chucks his sweatshirt at him. 

“Then here you go.” 

Tony’s eyes light up as he shrugs it on, wiggling as he brings it up to his nose. It shouldn’t be that cute. But it is. 

“You are the light of my life.” 

Rhodey laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“Maybe. Now come on.” 

They head downstairs together, and they both get swept up into the speed of things, with Jeanie racing around the house and telling Tony that he got treats too, they just didn’t have a back-up stocking. 

“Hush,” Mr. Rhodes says, handing Tony a carefully wrapped gift. “After breakfast, we’ll go ahead and open it.” 

He smiles, and Rhodey thinks it’s the best thing he’ll ever see. 

- 

Christmas gifts, Rhodey thinks, are his new favorite thing to see Tony interact with. 

It’s painfully obvious that he’s never really had any personal gifts, anything that reminds people of himself. He carefully unwraps the paper, careful not to rip it. 

“You nerd,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Come on, show us what you got.” 

Tony laughs as he opens a box with two coffee mugs from the rest of the family, emblazoned with “Rhodes” on one cup, and the other being a simple red with gold trim. 

“They’re perfect,” he says. “Thank you so much.” 

“You’re feeding his coffee addiction,” Rhodey answers. 

“Like you aren’t doing the same,” Jeanie teases. “You made him his cups of coffee this morning.” 

“That is because I have trained him well,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey, here’s my present to you, open it.” 

He’s nervous. 

Both of them are, but Tony especially so. 

He told Rhodey once that he’s not good at shopping for other people. He tends to have the phrase “go big or go home” permanently circling in his mind, and it can lead to...complications. 

(Rhodey remembers the overhaul of his closet for his birthday, complete with a visit from a rather well-known designer.) 

Inside is a beautiful jacket. It’s all patchwork, artfully sewn together with embroidery thread spelling out “James” at the lapel. 

“I commissioned Janet,” Tony says, smiling softly. “She wants you to still walk in her fashion show, by the way. Says you’re a model.” 

Rhodey snorts, shrugging on the jacket. 

“You helped with this, right?” Rhodey says. “I can see it in the gold thread you got on the sleeves.” 

“I may have had some creative input.” 

“I love it,” Rhodey says. “Now here’s mine.” 

Tony breathes, and Rhodey wonders if this gift will be enough. He feels a bit stupid, it doesn’t seem like that great of a gift, in retrospect- 

It’s a puzzle. 

A puzzle of their favorite cafe and restaurant to go to at MIT. It was in a shop window, and Rhodey could tell that Tony would love it. 

On top is a scarf, since Tony gave away his last one to another student in their philosophy class. 

“I love it,” Tony breathes, tackling Rhodey in a hug. “I love it, I love it! We have to do the puzzle after this.” 

Mrs. Rhodes sends her husband a look. 

Yeah, Tony would be around for a long time. 

- 

They set up the puzzle on the floor of Rhodey’s room, clearing away any luggage. It’s silent for a while, Tony moving around the pieces and Rhodey looking for edge pieces. 

They work closely together, side by side. 

Rhodey can’t stop staring. 

He should be able to. He’s stopped himself before, but now? 

Sunlight is coming in through the window, playing around Tony’s fingers as he nimbly picks up puzzle pieces, and this is the eternity that Rhodey wants so badly. If he died right now, he thinks he would choose for Heaven to look like this. 

“You okay?” Tony asks, eyes looking up. He took his contacts out, and now he’s just in his tortoiseshell glasses, the ones that he secretly likes more and Rhodey loves. 

“I’m in love with you,” Rhodey blurts out, because he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Tony is and how much he loves him. 

He realizes that this could very well be considered a mistake. Because they still have to live together and drive back together and it won’t be the same, and the residents will notice no matter how well they both act--

Tony pops his head right under Rhodey’s chin. 

“Kiss me?” 

That’s all it takes. 

They mess up part of the puzzle, but that’s okay. They find they don’t mind it too much. They can work on it later, when Tony’s done getting Rhodey out of his new jacket and Rhodey works his hands underneath Tony’s sweatshirt. 

-

Mama takes one look at them for dinner and grins. 

“Jeanie, you owe me a night of dish-washing.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mama!” Rhodey hisses, embarrassed beyond belief. 

Tony just cackles, and elbows Rhodey out of the way so he can get to his chair at the table. 

“Couldn’t have fooled you for a second, could we?” Tony teases. 

“Not at all,” Mama states proudly. 

Rhodey rolls his eyes and squeezes Tony’s hand under the table. All will be well. 

- 

When they both get back to college, none of their residents are surprised, at least not until they have to have a “knocking before entering” policy put in place after one particular late morning. 

#lovelyirony writes #jeanie rhodes #mama rhodes #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #pepper potts #harley keener #gwen but i can't remember her last name #spidey gwen #gwen spider-man #kamala khan #peter parker #tony stark #rhodey

[everybodyscupoftea]

chemistry

isaac lahey x reader

isaac needs help in chemistry and you need help in english - the beginning

this is for isaac anon and the few people that wanted this. i’m just dabbling here, so let me know if you guys want more! (i did quite a bit of Research for this and i have ideas)

also let me know, i left it vague, but if i expand i’m probably going to add in scott, stiles, allison, and lydia. would you guys like to keep it supernatural or do full au where they’re just normal college students?

You noticed the boy in your Intro to Academic Writing course, but you didn’t really focus on him, mostly due to freshman year stress, until he sat down next to you in General Chemistry. Stepping into the classroom you’d felt at ease, science was your jam, but the really cute boy put you back on edge. You felt hyperaware of him, his scent, kind of cinnamon-y, fall-esque.

He tapped his fingers on his notebook, and you couldn’t help but notice he wrote in green pen. You glanced every so often to see him doodling in the corner of the page instead of taking notes on the intro lesson on the scientific method that your professor was doing.

The boy rested his chin on his hand and his fingers went from tapping on the notebook to his jaw and you shook your head, trying to focus back on the professor who was talking about your lab groups.

“The people at your table are in your group. Lab is on Wednesday nights, I won’t be the instructor, you’ll have a TA, but you can email me or come to my office hours if you have any questions about what’s going on. I’ll see you all on Thursday.”

You started to pack your stuff and the boy turned to you with a crooked grin, “I’m Isaac.”

Shaking his hand, you introduced yourself and he stood, waiting for you to finish packing your stuff. You zipped your booksack, “You’re in my English class, right?” you asked, faking as if you didn’t notice him as soon as you stepped into the door.

He nodded, “Yeah, with Dr. Terranova.”

“He seems,” you trailed off, looking for the right word, “interesting.”

Isaac grinned, “You mean overwhelmingly picky for an English 101 professor?”

“That’s a great way to put it,” you told him, laughing.

The two of you walked out the door and down the hall together. Isaac shifted his booksack on his shoulders a little and asked, “Do you have any more classes today?”

“Calculus,” you told him and he grimaced.

“Fuck that.”

“You?”

He nodded, “Spanish.”

Unfortunately for you, the buildings were on opposite ends of campus, so you paused just outside the door to the chemistry building. Isaac paused too and smiled, “See you tomorrow night?”

“See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

-

Your lab group was made up of two boys and two girls. Isaac, Andrew, Abigail, and you. Out of the group, you were the only STEM major, and the only one who actually liked chemistry. Isaac patted your shoulder, “Well, that officially makes you team captain then.”

“Thank god,” Abigail added, “I’m an advertising major, my brain noped out of the sciences years ago.”

The other guy, Andrew, said, “I took Chem 2 in high school and didn’t pass the AP exam, chemistry and I have beef.”

You snorted and said, “Cool, well, I’ll try and lead us to the promised land.” They seemed to like that.

-

Your group was really smart, everyone was picking up the labs really easily and you were thrilled, especially when the teacher stood in front of the class after the first test review. She clapped her hands once, “Okay, the lab group with the highest combined test average gets five bonus points added to their test scores. This is me trying to get you guys familiar with study groups, especially if you’re going to be in STEM, which I know some of you are. Study groups got me through school.”

Unfortunately, everyone in your lab group already had stuff going on, so you couldn’t study with them. Fortunately, the test was on intro stuff like the scientific method, conversions, and balancing equations, and your group hadn’t had any issues in any of the lab work, so you weren’t worried.

But when you got the test back, you realized, maybe you should’ve been. Isaac got his handed back first and actually laughed when he looked at the grade. Before you could ask, the professor set yours down on the desk and you started flipping through it, frowning at the little points you’d had taken off for careless mistakes.

“Fuck,” you muttered, “should’ve gotten at least a 97.”

“Wow, can’t believe you fucked it up for the whole group,” Isaac sarcastically responded, nudging you with his elbow, before sliding his test on top of yours. He nudged you again, “As you can see, I’m carrying the team,” and he motioned toward the D written in bright red at the top of his paper.

Your mouth dropped open and you picked the test up, flipping through to see what he’d missed. Eyebrows furrowed, you looked over at him, “You should tell her you accidentally skipped the back page.”

“Oh, it wasn’t an accident, I just didn’t know how to do it.”

“Well,” you stuttered, “it was the same stuff we did in the last lab activity.”

Isaac nodded, “Yes it is, and I didn’t understand it then either.”

“I thought,” you paused, mind racing, “I thought we all did?”

He grinned at you, “Some of us aren’t science brains, my friend.”

“What are you?” you asked as the class started to pack up.

With a soft smile, he threw his booksack over his shoulder, “I’m a literature major.”

-

You didn’t mean to think about it as much as you did, but when 2 a.m. rolled around and you were at your most impulsive you couldn’t stop yourself from sending out a text.

Hey, do you maybe want to meet up and study sometime?

After hitting send you could’ve slammed your head into a wall. You locked your phone and put your head in your hands, “God damnit.” And then your phone dinged.

I’d love that, love to have a STEM genius in my corner.

Your cheeks heated as you read it and your mind raced with your heart. It was beating harder and part of you couldn’t even believe he’d said yes. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you responded.

Idk about genius but I’m not half bad at chem

He responded, even faster than the first time and you grinned, unable to stop it from overtaking your face.

I may not know much about the scientific method or whatever, but all evidence suggests otherwise, genius

-

The next test wasn’t for a few weeks, but Isaac wanted to start studying earlier. He suggested meeting at a coffee shop called The Beanery. Coffee shops weren’t really your jam, you liked the silence of the fourth floor of the library. Go early, get a table, put in head phones, and go to work. But, you were open to try Isaac’s suggestion.

It was brightly lit when you walked in, and he was already there, at a table in the corner, laptop out. Books were spread across the tabletop, and he already had two empty mugs on the table in front of him, leg bouncing as he aimlessly chewed on a pen.

Shaking yourself out of staring, you walked to the counter to order. Isaac smiled up at you when you made it to the table with your coffee.

“Welcome,” he told you, moving some of his books out of the way. Sitting up straighter, Isaac glanced around, “What do you think about this place?”

“It’s nice, definitely a change of pace from my norm.”

“Where’s that then?”

“Library, fourth floor.”

“Quiet up there, huh?”

“Yeah, but I listen to some music for background.”

“I like coffee shops,” Isaac said, closing his laptop, “the vibes are nice and my clothes always smell like coffee afterward which is a fun bonus.”

At his comment, you looked down at his clothes. You were a little surprised to see that he was dressed just like during the week: jeans, a nicer t-shirt, and a cardigan. You’d wondered, deep down, if he dressed nicer for class, but it didn’t seem the case. Isaac cleared his throat and your eyes snapped to his face, ears burning when you saw him staring at you in amusement.

Coughing quietly, you reached for your booksack, “So, chemistry. Do you understand what we’ve been going over?”

“I know they’re called Bohr models but I don’t know anything else about them.”

“Right, so,” you paused a minute, trying to figure out where to start, “it’s a way to draw an atom and it’s kind of like a planet.”

Isaac leaned forward through your explanation, resting most of his weight on his elbows, and tapped the green pen against his lower lip. Every so often he’d ask a question, shift a little and write something down in his notebook by whatever he’d scribbled in class. His questions were shockingly insightful, and you eagerly answered them all.

By the time you’d gotten through the basics of thermodynamics, he’d added a whole page of notes, and you could tell he was starting to lose interest. Shutting your notebook, you told him, earnestly, “I hope this helped a little.”

“I promise,” he looked you straight in the eye, “it makes sense. This all looked like a foreign language before we met up.”

“Good,” you nodded, “this is my jam.”

“Keep on spreading it,” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well,” you admitted, “you may not be good at chem but you’d kick my ass into next week in English.”

“How’s your paper going?” Isaac asked, leaning back and crossing his arms, looking genuinely interested.

“It’s…going.”

He snorted, “That doesn’t sound promising.”

“Yeah neither does my thesis.”

“Do you have your laptop?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me have a look,” he suggested.

Pulling up the word doc, you passed your laptop over, staring down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a little nervously, as he read through your rough draft.

“What did Dr. Terranova have to say in your conference?” he asked, pushing your laptop away.

You sighed, “He was less than complimentary.”

Isaac laughed, “It’s not that bad, but it could use some polishing. I can help of course.”

Relief washed over you and you felt a weight off your shoulders, “That would be incredible actually.”

“There, now we’re even. You tutor me in chemistry and I’ll make sure you pass English, starting with this rough, and emphasis on rough, draft.”

Reaching across the table, you shoved at his hand, “Be gentle.”

“I’m going to get another chai,” he said, standing to stretch a bit, “and you pick out what sentence exactly you think is your thesis. We’ll start there.”

Biting your lip to conceal a grin, you nodded, waking your laptop back up.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #college isaac

[angelkurenai]

Imagine Steve wanting to introduce you, his fiance, to his friends for a long time  but hesitating because he hasn’t told them something about your past and how you met. You were once his student.

“And then I tell him that if he wants 'em, he can come and have 'em since he knows my place. Simple as that. In what way, shape or form is that considered insulting? Pepper didn't let me hear the end of it!” Tony was sitting in the white couch, as expected, waved his hands animatedly; effectively earning everyone's attention in the room. More than one carefully eyeing the cup of coffee in his one hand, one of whom being the owner of the office and therefore said white couch.

“Tony” was however the only warning he got this time because, luckily for him, said owner was busy between his files and a chaos going on through his mind and heart. Mind due to work, mostly, and heart due to more personal issues both for good and less good reasons.

“And you think she's without reason?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“I think she's without reason to be so overdramatic. She's fussing over everything these days and I don't even want to think about the way she'll react when I tell her about the party. With all the guests and the preparations, and f course drinks I'll be the one to choose because Stark Industries owes this much to friends and colleagues, but I'm-” he paused, as if being striked by an idea – how not surprising – in the middle of his rambling. This time it was to look, or more specifically, glare at his friend wo didn't notice something was up until silence had set into the room.

“Rogers!” he nearly exclaimed, not a second after they'd made eye-contact, not tat it lasted long because Steve couldn't help but glance at his phone – you hadn't texted him all day and he wasn't clingy but that wasn't how it was between you two – much as he wanted to not look away from Tony because who knows what would be said his way or thrown.

“You're Rogers? Why, Tony, you are the fiance after all?” Clint joked, toying with a pencil as if it were a drumstick “And you got married without telling us too? Oh wow.”

“Oh I'd be a handful for him, trust me. We already argue too much for that but-” he jumped up from his seat as he stalked his friend's desk, eyes narrowed at him “That was exactly what I had in mind: Steve's wonderful fiance who has oh-so-accidentally missed every single party I've housed for the past year and a half. Now, I don't know how suspicious that makes you, because it certainly makes me very suspicious for good-boy Rogers here and I think that before any explanations, which you'll definitely have to give, is an answer to this-” he drew in a long breath “Will we be meeting future Mrs Rogers this time, Captain, or have you come up with another excuse to avoid this?”

“Alright-” Steve cleared his throat, subtly but certainly very uncomfortably shifting in his place “First of all, I haven't been coming up with any excuses. Those were real reasons and I have by no means been trying to avoid it. Timing wasn't right and it's not like you always warn me in advance for me to plan ahead of time, as if anyone could keep up with you. Not that he is anywhere near less busy herself, Tony.” he shrugged, not making eye-contact, as he placed back all of the folders in their respective drawers “Maybe next time you should plan ahead of time, maybe next time you should just make a phone call since you know I'm not that good with messages or emails or anything else. Maybe, just maybe, you should even reconsider altogether, this and every other time, since we've all got work to do and it would be better if we didn't have that too. I'm just-”

“Incredible.” Tony breathed out, loud enough to cut his friend off “Simply incredible. Does-” he turned to Natasha, pointing at Steve “Does Fury do that? Do new teachers, like, train on how to be spies? History teacher by morning, secret Agent by night. And hey, Captain America can be far from just your nickname now, Steve!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air “No, I mean it-” tony continued when he noticed the look he got from his friend “That was simply so masterful, so skillful. Changing the subject so easily and not giving an answer to mine either, yet again, is incredible on a whole new level.”

“I didn't- I'm-” Steve blinked, losing any and every ability to form a proper sentence because truth be told he had expected to get away with that much once more and it seemed like every worry he'd had for the ast couple days – ever since Tony casually brought up that he needed to do another gathering after all this time – seemed to resurface and slowly make his worst nightmares seem all the more likely to happen in real life.

“There are no excuses, guys, I'm being honest. It simply has not come up yet, that's all. I assure you, she'd very much love to meet you too.” he said but for one reason or another he still couldn't meet anyone's eyes. Those weren't lies, he knew, but hiding the truth – the entire truth that he couldn't bear to be out with yet – wasn't by any means easier in any way.

“And that's why we're not blaming you for anything, nobody is. Right Tony? Right?” Bruce asked with a pointed look at the man who rolled his eyes and dramatically flopped back in his previous seat “We'd just like to, to put it in simple words, meet the newest member of the family. Or the member-to-be. You clearly love that woman and, based on what you say, she does too. We'd just... like to know her, welcome her properly no matter what.”

Steve couldn't say it out loud, not yet, but he would admit it to himself that those last three words gave him more hope than anything else. No matter what. He wished so bad they'd think the same, all of them, both now and especially after meeting you. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of you. He was the happiest man on Earth to be by your side, to have you say yes to a marriage with him was something out of his wildest dreams and yet it was happening, and he was certainly the most proud fiance already for everything you'd achieved. And nobody could even dare to question if he was in love with you because it was written all over his face, in the way he smiled and he brightened up when he spoke about you, that showed how much in love with you he was.

But none of it was enough to shake his worries away. Not the support he already had from is family, not the acceptance he always found in them and not even, sadly, how much of a catch you already were. All that paled in comparison to-

“Ah speak for yourself, Bruce. I'm gonna be showing up at your doorstep to drag the both of you out if I have to. So you-” Tony spoke up, and breaking Steve's trail of thoughts he pointed a finger at him “Prepare for everything. I'm going to find out more about her soon and yes, that means I expect to see you both at the party although you gave me no answer yet. You tell her or I'll send a personal invitation.”

“Well-” he cleared his throat, turning to face his friends “To be quiet honest, I have more pressing matters in my mind right now than your party Tony, I'm sorry for that.” only half a lie, because all of his problems lately had to do with said parties and meetings – which in reality stemmed from one issue: the way he'd introduce you to his friends and only family “And- Weren't we talking about a different topic here? I liked that one better than what my day and night activities are.”

“Oh I certainly am not interested to know about the nightly ones. Keeping your fiance satisfied is your business alone, Steve.” Natasha chuckled, speaking up at last “The beard speaks enough for itself.” that earned more than a few chuckles and a look from Steve “But even I have to side with Tony here on the fact that it's been really too long. When are we going to meet her at last?”

“I'm sorry, did you just agree with me? I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around that. What is the date? Barton, not that down, quick!”

“Tony” Bruce chastised his friend who raised his hands in surrender once more.

“I never said that I didn't want you to meet her.” Steve said with a sigh “Nor that you are not going to meet her. You will, at some point, and no Tony I don't mean the wedding. You'll meet her sooner.”

“I bet you could avoid that too by not inviting me to it.” Tony snorted and despite everything, it earned a chuckle from everyone.

“Don't give me any ideas. Well-” he sighed again softly, relaxing more “It's only... it's more complicated than it and though I wish I could explain it all, I feel like I don't even know where to start sometimes. It's hard. It's not bad or sad or anything like that, I'm just-” he paused, eyebrows furrowed deeply “It's a mess, in my head. All of it. Then again, I think it has always been, I won't lie. But I will sort it out, sooner than later, I promise that. And you'll get to meet her. Right now is just- it's not the time.”

His words earned him warm smiles and nods, just like a soft hum. A moment of silence, content and understanding amongst longtime friends, even though he had mostly avoided giving a direct answer or dealing with the issue at hand, followed until-

“But what if... she's in prison?” Tony's eyes were trained on the floor but his words effectively earned a few groans and ended the peace that had settled “Was in prison? No, no, think about it. Maybe she's a serial killer and Steve here doesn't want us to know? Maybe, he helped her escape? Maybe he helped in the crime too!”

“Oh gosh, Tony.” Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but laugh.

“Hey, you're not directly denying it. And you're avoiding eye-contact. Did I hit a nerve? I hit a nerve!” Tony pointed at him but Steve only shook his head “Now I really wanna meet her.”

“Says the man who called the actual president of the United States “sweetheart” because that's why Pepper didn't let you hear the end of it. You said “If you want 'em, you can come and have 'em since you know my place, sweetheart.” loud and clear.” Steve pointed out.

“Hey, they're my inventions, ok, I'm not about to hand them over. So you know what? I had every right to! What would you do capsicle?”

“Don't know what Steve would do, but I know what I will do now. And that's stop waiting.” Clint got up from his own seat, stretching “I have three kids and little time as you all know. When will Sam be done?”

“I think he only had five minutes left. I still don't know why they keep gym for the last class of the day.” Steve admitted with a sigh “But I do think that if he started heading for the door now, we'd find him there. Save him the trip to my office and then call Rhodey to tell the guys to get ready.”

“Sounds like a plan to me! Let's get started, this place is huge as it is, we'll probably meet him halfway.” Tony was the first one to copy his movement before they were all soon out of the office, no less in silence though at least for long “Speaking of which, you thought about that offer yet? It's no small thing being wanted by such a big university, can't compare to a high school. No matter how big or state-of-the-art it may be. Besides, hey, you could finally feel at home with all those 90-year-olds there.”

“While that would sound lovely, seeing as none of them would tease me about my lack of knowledge on technology like someone I know-” he gave his friend a side look, despite the smile on his lips “But still, no, I think there is something about SHIELD that I won't be able to find there. I have the Phds, I should be fine, but this school was helped build by your father, by my aunt for something great and that means a lot more. So for now, I think I'll stay.”

“Your choice. Can't say I blame you either.” Tony shrugged, hands in his pockets “I know we'd all miss you if you had to move to somewhere else, me included. Oh just thinking about it- Lots of manful tears.”

Steve's lips parted, ready to reply, only for his words to get caught in his lips. And it wasn't just the big lump in his throat that prevented him from breathing, it wasn't just his lungs burning with lack of oxygen or his dry mouth that made him feel sick. Sick with worry, he had gotten used over time. Sick with realization that this was it, having been caught unprepared at that, he didn't know if he could accept. If his body could ever comprehend it to begin with, because right now all it felt like was as if every organ was failing one by one and every cell in his body had frozen up; as he took the image of you at the other end of the hallway.

“(Y/n)?” he breathed out in horror, like he never had done before in his life. Possibly in his dreams, worst nightmares actually – hard as it would be to believe it when it came to you being in them. It wasn't you, nor because of you, but the rest of the situation. It was those exact gasps he heard that were responsible.

“That's (Y/n)?” it sounded as shocked as he had expected.

“You gotta be kidding me. Rogers' got that? I need to know what his secret is now!” another whisper.

“Ah, there he is!” Sam, who only now Steve realized you had been talking to, exclaimed.

For the second time in only a matter of second, Steve felt his body freeze in its place only for this time, only half a second later, to spring into action. When you turned to fully face him and he spotted the bandaged hand, the scratches on your forehead and the small drops of blood on your shirt, all of his worries turned into actual fear but for entirely different reasons. He actually exclaimed this time, eyes wide “(Y/n)!”

“I know, I know.” you sighed, approaching him with an apologetic smile “I didn't call and didn't give you a single warning about this. I'm really so sorry about this. If it was up to me I- I wouldn't be here but-”

“Wha- No, honey, no!” he breathed out hastily cupping your face in both his hands, trying to take in every little detail that was there and that was not ever since he last saw you in the morning “I'm not- I would never- This is blood, (Y/n), what happened?!”

“Oh oh! No, don't worry.” you placed your hands on his “It's- it's nothing major, just a scratch here and there, probably because I wasn't driving. Paul is fine too, though they took him to a hospital just to be sure. Honestly, the car's in a far worse condition than any of us, the accident wasn't that bad in itself but-”

“Accident?” he gasped “You were in a car crash? Sweetheart-” he paused for a moment, doing another check over with his eyes, lips parted as if he was ready to bombard you with questions about your state, advice on your well-being and so many things that he should do but you knew he was holding himself back only because you weren't alone. He could be as over protective as he wanted but truth was there didn't seem to be a real reason the more he looked at you. He took in a shaky breath and nodded his head slowly Are you sure? Maybe you should have gone with him too, get a couple of check ups just in case-”

“Steve, no, I swear I'm fine, darling. Believe me please.” you whispered, emphasizing on the words, as you fixed your fiance with a look that made him let out a small sigh before he nodded his head and kissed your forehead, moving to your cheek and then briefly your lips.

“Are you sure there is not something I can do though?” he dared whisper “Maybe you should have-”

“No. Steve, no.” you shook your head, giving him one final look as if to warn him that you weren't going to take any of it now “Now-” you let a soft breath, smiling up at him “I hope we established that I don't need any pampering, not at the moment at least. See, I wouldn't have come here if I hadn't forgotten my keys, though. My phone is definitely in pieces so I couldn't really let you know and I thought I'd stop by to get your keys before, well-” you stopped, looking over his shoulder before giving him a tight-lipped and certainly very apologetic smile “You know. But- yeah. Seems like my timing's just too shitty today.”

Your words did earn a laugh from your fiance, and he could see it in your eyes just how much you appreciated the sight of him relaxing, not that he had the chance to tell you so before Tony spoke up.

“Uh pretty sure doesn't like that kinda language!” he came closer, nowhere nearly subtly pushing his friend away to extend his hand towards you “I mean, he's all but an old man so it shouldn't be surprising. One would beg to wonder: Is dirty talking involved in it, or not? Tony Stark, by the way, and since you're here I think we'd finally get the question answered after all! So you are the fiance wow! (Y/n) (Y/l/n), what a pleasure to finally meet you! I've been coming up with all sorts of pictures of you in my head but let me tell you reality far exceeds every expectations! No wonder Rogers has been hiding you all along.”

“I-” you couldn't help but laugh a bit out of breath at his words, blinking in surprise at his rambling all in one breath “Well, let me tell you, you certainly live up to the image I had of you in my head, Mr Stark, and definitely all of Steve's descriptions.” you laughed, taking his hand “It's such a pleasure to finally meet you!”

“Please, Tony. Weird-” he glanced at Steve “I don't think I shared my performance in bed with Rogers.”

“Tony” Steve warned although you couldn't hold back your own laughter once more.

“What?” he asked in return “I'm just letting the woman know what's out there on the market in case she decides she needs to dump the capsicle and be a little more adventurous in life.” he added winking at you.

“Thank you, Tony, but-” you chuckled, noticed the way your fiance rolled his eyes, though there was too much playfulness in both of their demeanor to make it real or serious “I think after all these years, despite his quirks and habits that can drive me crazy, there's something called love. So I'll stick with him.”

“Oh he sure is a handful. But who am I to judge, some like them old.” he shrugged casually.

“But you're older than me!” Steve couldn't help but protest, almost sounding like a little child about to throw a tantrum. While it would have sounded funny, you couldn't help but notice the small crease in his brows that was always there when the topic came up. He was uncomfortable and even more self-consious about it, despite how much you'd always tried to reassure him that the age gap was never an issue for you.

“Alright, are you two quiet done or are we gonna have to witness you get at measuring it too?” Natasha spoke up there was a hint of exasperation in her voice that you couldn't help but understand if not completely relate to “Hi, name's Natasha and it's good to finally meet the woman that's got this guy with all those pounds of muscle wrapped around her little finger. It's quiet a show to watch, let me tell you. One way or another.” she grinned and you chuckled “Oh and here we have Bruce and Clint. Sam you've met.”

“Kind of a tough feat but I'm confident I'm doing well.” you smiled, nodding your head “It's great to meet you too Natasha, Bruce and Clint. You guys- I've heard so many stories with you, you have no idea how happy I am to finally be able to talk to you in person and get to know you. Though I hoped it was under different circumstances, I apologize for this.”

“Oh no, you don't have to apologize in the least bit. So long as you are alright, well, we're just glad to finally meet you too.” Bruce said with a gentle smile “We've been looking forward to knowing the woman that makes Steve so happy, even if it took some time. Which we can't understand because you're lovely.”

“Yeah, I uh- I know and I feel bad about that because-” you glanced at Steve who had put an arm around your waist, his breathing labor if not somewhat withheld, and you almost noticed his body had stiffened up as if he prepared himself for the worst “Well, I'm partially responsible. Work is taking up so much of my time and the few free hours I have, I try to spend with Steve and plan ahead of time. I've been told you've wanted us to both come to your parties-” you looked at Tony “And while the thought of beating Steve's ass at pool and sharing every detail, pardon, embarrassing detail of our first dates with you guys had been very tempting, I sadly had not been able to make it yet. Much as I'd love to get to know... the family.”

“Trust me, once you really get to know this family, you wish you hadn't. But you're just too sweet and innocent yet, so I won't ruin it for you.” Natasha chuckled “For now Steve's lucky. On every aspect.”

“I mean, hey, at least it is a better explanation than ex-serial-killer on the loose that Tony suggested. Not busy with prison either, I assume?” Clint shrugged as Tony exclaimed “Hey, it was a solid explanation.”

All you did was laugh “I'm not a serial killer, Tony, unless we consider my attempt at lasagna a murder. Come to think of it, the kitchen always ends up looking like a crime scene so who knows? But I haven't been in prison, either, not that I remember of at least. Right now being head of the museum is enough.”

“Smart, funny, sweet and incredibly beautiful- Rogers what is she even doing with you?” Tony teased.

His words earned a laugh from you and everyone else, managing to ease the tension. Or at least the tension that had set on Steve, because everybody else had been incredibly relaxed from the beginning including you, as much as it surprised him. Just some. He was not all that surprised to realize that they already adored you from the first five minutes of knowing you. He had had no doubt about it from the beginning. He was sure that charming them with a smile andmesmerizing them with your sweetness would be a piece of cake for you like everybody else you met, they loved you. Besides, he couldn't lie, that whatever the situation (car crash or not – even though he hated to think like that) were always radiant and as beautiful as ever and he'd always thank his luck for gracing him with a woman as stunning as you inside and outside. But taking pride in your wits and beauty that easily made his family adore you he couldn't really allow himself to fully accept it and relax. The small voice in the back of his head, even now as it saw that things were going so well – only one joke about the age difference, if any at all so far – he felt worry and fear. For what?

“And here I thought that the real kids would have left by now. Am I going to have to ask you all to enroll at some point or what? I can't seem to shake you guys off no matter wha-”

The voice was familiar somehow but your brain was slow at processing it, given everything that had and was happening, but the second your eyes fell on the man, well, there was no mistaking the face or the memories the came with it. Realization dawned on the man as well, obvious on his face as he trailed off.

“Mr Fury!” you breathed out with a smile and a laugh of disbelief at how little he had changed.

That.

“Well, I will be damned.” he grinned, as much as he ever would at least “Miss (Y/l/n), if this isn't a surprise!” you happily reached for his hand and shook it with a firm grip, a trait which he always appreciated in you “Came back to see if the building's still standing? As you can tell, much as our students have tried and would wish, both the walls and I are well standing. Again much to everyone's dismay. The arts class is right where you left it if you want to go check it, by the way.”

“Oh Mr Fury don't be like that. You're the best headmaster this place could get and, let's be honest, the only one who could handle the kind of kids in here without going insane.” you shrugged and he hummed in agreement nodding his head “Besides, you always had faith in everyone, whether you admitted it or not.”

He scoffed a laugh “Glad that at least in some cases I wasn't proven wrong.”

“Wait- you-” Tony blinked, raising a hand as to stop the conversation “I'm getting it all mixed up here. Fury, you know (Y/n)?”

You wouldn't even have realised if the sharp intake was real or not, much less coming from your fiance, if you weren't standing so close to him. You had naturally found your way back to his side and his hand had fallen on your waist, and when you felt a squeeze so fast and quiet intense, you understood that it was all him. And more than that, you saw the way he had stiffened up next to you, how he was holding his breath and his chest was puffed out. His eyes weren't nearly as wide but you could see an unspoken kind of fear in them that made your heart ache. This wasn't how you wanted it to go by any means, not on your first meeting of his family. Everything was going so well, you had gotten so exited and carried away that you had almost not realized it what it could mean to have Fury in front of you. Not until now. You didn't want it to be ruined for Steve but what could you do anymore? Stand and watch just like him, feeling more helpless was the only possible thing aside from hoping.

“Do I know her? I don't know Stark, there are some people I'd rather see once a month or even year because one can only take so much and forgetting them wouldn't sound so bad- If you know what I mean.” he gave him a look and for a moment you held your own breath. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe- “But, forgetting the brightest student to walk these halls ain't possible. And speaking of that, what brings you back after all this time (Y/n)?”

“Student?” it sounded like Natasha but you couldn't be sure over the sound of your own heart drumming.

“I uhm-” you cleared your throat, deciding to look as confident as possible for the sake of your fiance who as standing frozen in his place if not terrified “Yes, yes I was-” a soft laugh which you could proudly say sounded genuine “I was a student here almost six or seven years ago. Small world.” the came out as a whisper “And uh I was here because I had to see Mr Rog- Steve. I needed an uhm favor, of sorts. I'm sorry to disappoint but I won't be staying long, it's already been a long day for me and I need to head home.”

“Of coure.” he said but sadly for you that wasn't that, and feeling the tension in the room not only from Fury who studied the way you were so close but from the rest of Steve's friends who stood frozen in their place, faces blank but tha probably the worst kind of expression they could have on “But uh I didn't know you two kept in touch. What- what is Mr Rogers exactly to you?”

There is no mistaking the look the headmaster is giving you, the way his eyes narrow a bit, just like there is no mistaking the bit of knowing look in his eyes. Steve however, still very tense, chokes out in a lightly small and hoarse voice “Fiance.” he cleared his throat “(Y/n)'s my fiance.”

Fury's eyebrows rose but not with as much surprise as you'd have expected, not even that of having his current thought being verified. Maybe they weren't any current thought at all? Maybe the suspicion had not sparked this very moment to begin with.

“Well, then, what else can I say but congratulations!” he gave you a smile which you tried to return. Key word: tried. Steve was even more stiff next to you, unable to even try himself.

Before you get the chance to speak, it's another female voice this time that you also recognise “Fury, I have some stats I need you to see now befo- Oh, (Y/n)!” Maria smiled at you and you couldn't help but return it, until it almost froze in your lips because of her next words “What a pleasant surprise to see you here, you haven't changed at all! Not were it counts at least. Look at you, from high school girl to badass business woman. That's a glow up.”

She had always been friendly with you, the playfulness was to be expected, and her words were always what could make your day but at this very moment it felt like the exact opposite. You forced a smile nonetheless “Thank you Maria, it's great to see you too!”

“Right.” Fury cleared his throat, smirk evident on his lips “Well, as you can tell, work never ends for this old man. It's great to see you again (Y/n) and of course, congratulations once more.”

You were sure you murmured a soft “Thank you” but maybe it was only your lips moving as a reflex. You saw Maria give him a questioning look but what caught even more the attention was the grin he could barely hide as he turned to her and started speaking in a hushed tone.

Not that much registered anyway. The silence that followed, even for a couple seconds, felt deafening. Your heart seemed to be stuck in your throat as you simply waiting for something, anything.

“Honey.” it was Steve that spoke up, drawing your attention as he placed the keys in your palm “You're tired and you've been through enough for today. Go home and I promise I'll be there shortly afterwards. I'll say a quick hello and then I'll be with you, no more than an hour.”

“Steve” you protested in a low voice, looking up to meet his eyes. You weren't protesting at him cutting his day out with his friends short, although you definitely wanted to fight him about that because you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You were protesting at him taking it all upon himself, doing the explanation and what not. You felt like you had to be there to, that you needed to stand by his side and defend your relationship, even in front of his friends.

“No” he shook his head, clearly reading the meaning behind your words “Go. I'll be fine.” he whispered in your ear before kissing your temple “Go”

You tried to fight him a bit longer, silently at least, but his pursed lips and firm eyes told you that he's not having it. With a heavy sigh you nodded your head and he let go of your face. You put on a smile and turned to his friends “It was... great meeting you guys. I hope I'll see you again soon in... better circumstances. That we could get to talk more.”

“Anytime.” Natasha says with a warm smile that's almost friendly and accepting and you wish to believe it.

Sharing goodbyes with the rest of the group, you reluctantly walk away despite the urge to linger close if only to at least hear what they're going to say. Not... that you'd have to.

“Steve, you absolute little sneaky shit!” Tony exclaims, not even trying to keep quiet as he laughs “Alright, alright, now you seriously have to teach me how you do that! Your secret- Tell us your secret, there has to be one! My, I never thought I'd say this to freaking Cap of all people but I need your tips now!”

His words were followed by more laughter, easy and calm as Natasha spoke up again “Really, Steve, that's the reason whyyou didn't want us to meet her?” she raised an eyebrow and Steve tried to stutter out words but nothing coherent was said, not as he stared dumbfounded at his friends “You realize that there is nothing you should feel ashamed about, right? She was your student, alright, but as long as you both leg- Wait, you both were, right?”

Steve's eyes widened “No, Nat- It's not-” he blinked before shaking his head “When any of it happened she was very much legally an adult. Nothing could have ever happened if she was not. I would never-”

“Lies!” Tony gave him a look “That's absolute bullshit, Rogers. Nobody believes it. Come on, teacher- student relationship is already out there, start admitting the rest of it!”

“That's the truth, Tony.”Steve rolled his eyes “I'm not hiding anything else besides-”

“Not the one I chose to believe, no. Doesn't have as much spice as I'd like and we've already established that you have dirty secrets, I'm set on discovering it all if I have to. In fact-” he got his phone out “How much do you think a lie detector takes to build up from scratch? I could always order but-”

“Maybe... you were right to want to hide it after all.”

“Not all of us could have a mature reaction when some of us are not even close to... mental adolescence.”

#sebastian #steve rogers #steve imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve one shot #steve rogers one shot #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america one shot #chris #chris evans #chris x reader #chris evans x reader #chris imagine #chris evans imagine #chris fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris one shot #chris evans one shot

[a-room-of-my-own]

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Burns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018, American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people. The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much. It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity. I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

#Jk Rowling #Jkr #Transgender #Terf #Gender critical #Radfem

[thegreatestofheck]

Simple Melancholy pt. 1 ❣ Kelce ❣

word count - 2.7 warnings - Nothing in this chapter synopsis - Jemma “Little J” Maybank finds herself a little over her head when she accidentally falls for a boy from Figure Eight. Between her overly protective brother and Kelce’s incredibly rude friends, neither of them are sure how they’re going to make it, but they’re determined to.  a/n - So, this was a request I had from someone on AO3! I’m not sure if I’ll put the entire series on here, but I wanted to at least put the first chapter! After that, if you guys want it on here, I’ll keep updating or I can just put a link to the story on AO3! Thank you all! Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay groovy!

***

Jemma spat up a mouth full of water before flopping on her back, her body shaking with hysterical laughter. 

“Jemma!” A voice called from the shore. “What the hell?”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, turning her head ever so slightly to glance over her shoulder. Running toward her was her brother, JJ, and all of his friends. Jemma sighed and flopped back against the warm sand as they neared. 

“That was a sick dive, Little J,” John B said with a laugh and a smile as they slowed to a stop around her. Jemma pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaking underneath her. 

“Are you okay?” Kie asked, putting hands on her friend’s arms in an attempt to steady her. Jemma’s grin never once wobbled. 

“Never better,” Jemma reassured her. 

“What the hell?” JJ asked again, shoving his sister backward and away from Kie. She laughed and brushed wet hair out of her face. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist, J?” Jemma laughed. “It’s just cliff diving.” 

“I told you never to go without someone there to watch you,” JJ said, grabbing Jemma by her arm. 

“Jeez.” Jemma pulled her arm away, smile dropping and a scowl forming on her face. “I was just having some fun before you guys got here. Is that a crime?” 

“Jemma-” 

“God, JJ, just let me breathe for once.” 

Jemma wrapped her arms around her stomach and pushed past him, knocking into his shoulder as she stormed off. 

“Little J, wait!” Kie called after her, but Jemma didn’t turn back around. 

“She’s right, bro,” Jemma heard Pope say. “You are really tough on her.”

“She does stupid shit.”

“You do stupid shit.” 

“Yeah, I know,” JJ snapped. “But I don’t want her to be me. I want her to be better.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes as she walked toward her car. She heard the speech before. ‘Be better, Jemma’, ‘Do better, Jemma’, ‘What would Mom have wanted, Jemma?’ Frankly, she was sick of it. She just wanted to be Jemma, and not have all the other stuff tacked on with it. 

Being a Maybank wasn’t easy. It never had been. Mom died, Dad was an asshole, JJ wanted to keep her in a box, and everyone else already had a picture painted of her that she was some lowlife daughter of a mechanic who wasn’t going anywhere in life. 

Even as she shoved her front door open, Jemma was still fuming. Dripping wet and angry head to toe, she made her way to the back of the house where her room was. She wrapped her hair in a towel before changing and flopping onto her bed. She sat there, wallowing in her irritation with her face against her pillow until there was a ding on the family computer. 

Jemma was the only one who ever really used it for anything other than porn and Instagram, so she knew it was for her. Rolling out of bed with a groan, she shuffled over to Luke’s room. She plopped herself down at the computer and opened the email browser. 

As she read the email, a smile started to spread across her face. 

There were two ways that Jemma could get a job. The first; dress like a skank and smile at old, rich men until they threw money at her for some meager task. The second; lie about where she lived and who her dad was for a good first impression. She had tried to get a decent job going the official route, but no one wanted her. And she was tired of having men peering down her shirt or at her ass while she worked. 

A few weeks ago, Jemma had put up an add as a tutor. Believe it or not, she was smarter than she let on. Her grades weren’t perfect by a long shot, but that was because she didn’t really turn in assignments. She aced almost every test and essay that a teacher could drop down in front of her. When Jemma was younger, it was a source of pride to both of her parents (and a reason for JJ to pick fun at her). But now her dad didn’t care and her mom was gone, so she saw no reason to keep her grades up. 

However, Pope told her that it was a great asset to have, that most of the kids on this island were lacking in their grades. And he knew a couple of kids with parents who would pay big bucks to get A’s on report cards. So, Jemma offered her services. She promised to keep it on the down low, no one else would have to know. As long as she got paid, she wouldn’t say a word to anyone. 

And today was the first response to her ad. Jemma’s smile pulled wider. 

***

“Will you help me out with this?” JJ asked, trying to push something in the backyard. 

“Sorry,” Jemma said as she blew against her fingernails. “Can’t. Just did my nails.”

JJ dropped the metal object, whatever it was, and looked up at his sister with narrowed eyes. He squinted against the sunlight, putting his hands on his hips. 

���Since when did you care about your nails?” He asked. Jemma shrugging, continuing to blow against her nails. 

“Since now.” 

JJ dropped his hands and walked inside with a huff. Jemma let out a sigh, knowing full well that she would have to follow him. He could be like a pouty child when he wanted to be, especially when he was upset with her. Jemma pushed herself out of her chair and followed after her brother. 

“What?” She asked, crossing her arms. 

“You’re wasting your money on nail polish?” JJ asked, turning around to face her. Jemma was taken aback, a scowl settling onto her face. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.” 

Jemma let out a bitter laugh. 

“Wasting my money? What, like how you spend all of yours on booze and weed?” JJ scowled at her. “I bought $2 nail polish from the General Store, JJ. Where’s the crime in that?” 

“What do you need nail polish for anyway?” JJ asked. Jemma’s scowl dropped and she leaned back against the wall, looking to the floor. It didn’t matter how much Jemma and JJ fought, they had a rule. Never lie to each other, no matter how small it seemed, they never lied. So, Jemma couldn’t just tell him that she wanted to buy to nail polish to look pretty because he would know she wasn’t telling the truth. 

“I have my first tutoring gig later today,” she said, refusing to look up at him. “I wanted...I wanted to look nice. The family doesn’t know I’m from the cut.” 

JJ’s face softened as he let out a sigh. 

“I didn’t know-”

“No, you didn’t. Maybe next time you won’t get on my ass about two dollars worth of nail polish.” Jemma turned around and started for her room. 

“Jemma, wait.” JJ followed after her, grabbing her by the wrist. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have been on your ass and I’m sorry. You’re going to do a great job today.” 

Jemma nodded her head slowly. 

“Thanks, J.” He let go of her wrist. “I have to finish getting ready.” 

***

Jemma let out a heavy sigh as she stepped up to the front door. She’d been on Figure Eight before, stood on the doorstep of a Kook house. But it had always been with someone she trusted, going into Kie’s house usually or helping Pope run deliveries. Now she was alone and she had no idea whether or not she could trust them. 

Knocking on the door, Jemma plastered a smile on her face. Her smile fell instantly as soon as the door was opened. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

Jemma resisted the urge to roll her eyes when she saw Kelce standing in the doorway. From the look on his face, she could tell he felt the same way. 

“You’re the tutor my parents hired?” He asked, accusation heavy in his voice. 

“Apparently. Um, where are they? I’d like to talk to them,” Jemma said, forcing a smile back onto her lips. 

“They’re not here.” Kelce crossed his arms. Jemma sighed and rubbed a headache out of her forehead with her fingers. 

“Can I come in?” 

Kelce narrowed his eyes. 

“Your brother beat me up last Friday at that kegger on the Boneyard,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. Jemma lifted her shoulders, pressing her lips into a thin line. 

“What my brother does is none of my business.” 

“You were there. You laughed.” 

“I guess it was funny then.” When Kelce didn’t laugh or even smile, Jemma let out a sigh and pinched her eyes together. “Look, your parents already paid me. Can I come in or not?” 

Jemma watched as Kelce’s eyes dropped to scan her body with his eyes. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. 

“Don’t want to waste my loving parents’ charity money, do I?” Kelce gave Jemma a sarcastic smile. Jemma reciprocated it and pushed past him into the house. “You clean up good, Maybank.” 

“That’s why you’re failing English, Kelce,” Jemma said, admiring the cleanness of his house. “I clean up well, not good.” 

Kelce’s smirk dropped and he shut the door, slamming it a little harder than it needed. 

“How the hell did you manage to be a tutor?” Kelce asked, walking past Jemma and sitting at the island. He had a bowl of cereal in front of him, but he pushed it away toward the sink. 

“However little you think of me, Kelce,” Jemma said. “My grades are better than yours and that’s all that matters. Should we get to studying?” 

“I think I want to get to know my tutor a little bit better,” Kelce said, looking her up and down again. Jemma glared at him. 

“I know you know my brother and believe me when I tell you this-” Jemma slid into a chair beside Kelce. “If he doesn’t kill you, I will.” 

Kelce watched her for a few moments before laughing. 

“Your brother’s a real son of a bitch, you know.” Kelce pointed a spoon at her. “But you’re not half bad.” 

“My brother and I are almost exactly the same,” Jemma told him, trying not to take offense at the comment about her brother. If she fought every person who talked bad about him, she’d spend all of her time fighting the entire island. “Only reason you like me any better is because I haven’t punched you in the face yet.” 

Kelce stood and walked over to the fridge. He pulled out two beers and offered one to Jemma, which she took gratefully. 

“Rafe’s told me all about your uppercut,” Kelce said as he popped open his beer. Jemma shrugged. 

“What can I say? My daddy taught me well.” 

She laughed as Kelce choked on his beer. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll go grab my homework,” Kelce said. Jemma popped open her beer and took a long swig. She waited at the island until Kelce came back with his backpack. Kicking off the kitten heels that Kie had lent her, Jemma turned toward Kelce as he plopped his bag onto the countertop. 

“I’ve got two overdue essays that I have to turn in by the end of this week,” he said, not sitting back down. “And a math test on Thursday. You get those done and I’ll maybe tell my parents you weren’t a complete waste of their money.” 

Jemma watched at him with a look of disbelief, her lips parted ever so slightly. 

“Um, no,” she said, grabbing hold of his wrist before he could walk away. “I’m not here to do your homework for you. I’m here to help you do your homework yourself.” 

Kelce looked down at her hand as if she was actively giving him the plague. 

“I could just call the police and get you booted out of here if that’s what you want,” he said. Jemma let his wrist go and sat up straighter, tension building in her jaw. 

“Here I thought you weren’t the conceited prick everyone says you are,” Jemma said. She stood from the stool, shoving her feet back into the too small heels. 

“And by everyone, you mean your psycho brother and his band of misfit toys, right?” 

She hadn’t meant to shove him backward, but it came out of her so quickly she couldn’t help it. He almost looked insulted. 

“Fail your English class for all I care, Kelce,” she seethed, plucking her beer off of the counter. “Flunk that math test and then go crying to Mommy and Daddy about it. But don’t talk bad about my brother and think that will get you anywhere.”

“Jemma, I’m sorry,” he tried as she made for the door. “I shouldn’t have said that-”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She side stepped him before he could grab her wrist and keep her from leaving. “But you did. So, I’m leaving.” 

She threw the door open, ready to go home and take a long shower. 

“Wait!” There was desperation in Kelce’s voice. Against her better judgment, she actually froze where she was. With her hand still on the doorknob, Jemma turned her head partially, just so she could barely see him standing there in the corner of her eyes. “I need to pass these classes. I can’t do it by myself.” 

Jemma tilted her head even farther and flicked her ear to tell him that there was something else she still wanted to hear. 

“I’m sorry I called your brother a son of a bitch and a psycho,” Kecle said with a heavy sigh. “But I need your help.” 

Jemma whirled around, placing a smile back on her face. She shut the door and set her beer on the counter. 

“Great! Well, there’s gonna have to be a few rules around here,” she said, walking toward him and flicking the heels off once again. “First, we don’t talk about my brother. This is a brother free zone, got it?” 

“Fine by me,” Kelce agreed, watching her carefully as she got closer. 

“Second, I will not be doing a single assignment for you. Everything is done by your own hand. I won’t even pick up a pencil.” 

“Fine.” Kelce’s voice tightened when she stopped just inches away from him. She crossed her arms slowly. 

“Lastly, whatever happens in this house, stays in this house. I don’t need people on my side of the island knowing that I’m helping a Kook out and I heavily doubt you want any of your friends knowing that JJ Maybank’s little sister is helping you pass your classes. Agreed?” 

She offered out her hand for him to shake. He took it. 

“Agreed.” 

“Good. Let’s get to work.” 

Jemma sat back down in her chair, spinning it back and forth. She didn’t have any of those swivel chairs at home and she liked the way it moved. It was going to be a blast working here as long as she got to sit in one of these all the time. 

“Two follow up questions,” Kelce said slowly as he made his way into his own seat. “You’re younger than JJ by how much?” 

“I thought we agreed on not talking about my brother?” 

“Well, I’m asking about you, technically.” 

Jemma thought about it for a moment, chewing on her lip. She supposed he was right. 

“We’re twins actually, but he acts like an annoyingly protective big brother so everyone just assumes he’s older, but I was born first.” 

“Interesting.” Kelce took a drink of his beer. “And when you say what happens in this house stays in this house, that means anything could happen, right?” 

Jemma felt herself smiling despite herself. She knew precisely what he had been implying. She was sure he had been thinking about it since his parents told him he was getting a tutor. If she had a guy come into her house to tutor her, she would be all over him in seconds. But this was strictly professional. 

“No, Kelce, that doesn’t mean anything could happen,” she told him, giving his hand a little pat. “Let’s start on those essays, yeah?” 

#jj maybank #jj obx #jj's little sister #jemma maybank #outer bank #obx #outer banks fic #john b obx #john b routledge #kie obx #kiara carrera #pope heyward #pope obx #kelce obx #topper obx #topper thornton #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #kelce #kelce outer banks #kelce x jj's sister

[alleiradayne]

Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story…

THE MIDNIGHT RIDE

Long is our list of ghost stories laid to rest. But when the dark rider returns thirty years after his exorcism at the hands of the Winchesters, Sam, Dean, and I are faced with the possibility that we’ve been wrong about one thing.

Some urban legends never die.

Part IV - The Midnight Ride

Summary: The end of an era. Warnings/Tags: Some fluff, general elements of horror and fear, graveyards, brushes with death again... Characters/Pairings: First Person Female!Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 5,104

"You alright?"

Lost in thought, I had hardly heard Sam. But the warmth of his presence roused me from my stupor. I shook my head and rubbed the burn from my eyes as I spoke. "Yeah, I… I'm just exhausted. And this research isn't exactly entertaining."

Sam took a seat beside me at the small motel table and pulled his chair so close I might as well have sat in his lap. The warmth of one massive hand enveloped mine, and he set the other on my bouncing knee. That quake subsided beneath his touch, something no other person in my life had managed. But then a sudden awareness sent a shiver down my spine, and I scanned the motel room, searching. Sam, perceptive as ever, answered my unasked question. "Dean's in the shower. He'll be a while. We've got some time. To talk. Only if you—"

I didn't want to talk. At all. What I wanted betrayed every common sense I had. At that moment, I’d do whatever I could, use whatever magic at Sam’s disposal, make a deal with Rowena, anything to cleanse last night's stain of indelible memories from my mind. And yet, I knew those options were anything but. Between Sam’s apparent affection for me and Dean’s overprotective brotherly nature, neither would allow me to harm myself willingly just to get rid of a few nightmares.

But as I stared into Sam’s prismatic gaze, the desire to replace those memories, to shadow them with newer, happier moments, overpowered me.

No. I didn’t want to talk. So, instead, I kissed him.

Myriad descriptions, all vastly varied from one to the next, could never capture the feeling of Sam's lips on mine. I could regale you with comparison after comparison. But none of them would do him justice. Though the moment lasted but a breath, eons passed in that explosive connection where I knew and felt and lived a thousand lifetimes with him. I wanted to do nothing more in that breath than melt into him forever.

My tablet chirped, and the case loomed at the edge of my subconscious. All those imaginary lifetimes vanished as I parted from him, replaced by a cruel reality. Not that I'd squander a reality that consisted of Sam Winchester's love. Or his crooked grin and half-lidded gaze.

"Good talk."

Despite my sour mood, I laughed. "I'm glad we could come to an understanding."

His fingers slipped between mine as he spoke. "Thing is, I forgot… what I said about us last night. When I asked if you wanted to talk now, I meant about what happened to you."

"Oh." Well, shit.

I have never known a person wiser, more emotionally aware than Sam. And Dean often gave him a run for his money. But after all the years hunting together, Sam and I operated on an uncannily similar wavelength. The guy read me like an open book. And when I balked at recounting my harrowing journey beyond the veil, he understood without another word.

"Only if you want," he repeated with a reassuring squeeze of my thigh. "Otherwise, I wouldn't mind a little more of your…" he paused with a coy smirk as his eyes darted to my lips and back. "... preferred method of communication."

"I…" My tablet chirped once more, obliterating the one desire I'd felt in months. "Sam, I promise, we make it out of this case alive, I won't leave your bedroom for a week."

His smile widened as he said, "Only if we spend the following week in yours."

I kissed him again, a little harder, more insistent. Parted, I agreed. "Done."

My tablet chimed for the third time, and I turned to it at last. Sam pointed at the screen and said, "What's cockblocking me?"

Though I laughed, a furious sting prickled my cheeks at the thought of Sam's… I forced the imagery from my mind and decidedly focused on the tablet instead of his face. "I was emailing the curator at the museum. She just sent me some documents about Sleepy Hollow's history."

"Oh?" Sam mused. "Anything worthwhile?" He reached for his laptop, pulled it across the table, and flipped up the lid.

When I opened the attached documents, my heart sank. They merely verified much of what I'd already learned. "Sleepy Hollow was a part of the Tarrytown settlement, originally called North Tarrytown. Most of this information is just facts and history about the town. While the Ichabod Crane story is all rooted in it, the urban legends and folklore are only related so far as this jackass on a horse with no head."

"Not surprising," Sam stated.

"No,” I whined, “but it is a little disheartening that he has next to nothing to do with the town he haunts.”

Sam nodded, then said, “There might be more, though. Earlier this morning, I read that Washington Irving was born in Manhattan. He traveled for many years, but he eventually returned to New York and lived out the rest of his life in Sleepy Hollow. He's buried in that cemetery."

"I suppose," I replied, "but I was looking for something a little more concrete than the author lived and died here. Like actual people that Irving modeled his characters after. Or other legends. He traveled in Europe for quite some time. There's even a Scandanavian story, The Wild Hunt, that has the same throughline. A headless rider that lobs his head at people."

Sam piqued at that, eyes narrowed and head tilted. "But Ichabod Crane is the original telling of the story here. Right?"

I nodded. "Forgetting that it's a hodgepodge of cultural ghost stories, yes."

He laughed at that. "I haven’t read it since I was a kid.”

“Me neither,” I replied. “I only know bits and pieces.”

Dean burst from the bathroom at that, a towel wrapped around his head and one about his waist. “Ichabod Crane was a new school teacher in Sleepy Hollow. And he was hellbent on marrying a woman, Katrina, who was set to inherit her father's very wealthy farm estate.”

"Oh," I mused with a mocking smirk at Sam. "Sounds like we have an expert in our midst."

Dean waved me off as he dug through his bag at the end of the bed. "Sam knows it, too. Right?"

“Yeah," Sam started, "there was another suitor, though. Arthur Van Brunt. He went by Brom Bones Van Brunt.” He paused as he stood. “It’s kind of funny, really, this story reads like a high school drama. The lanky geeky nerd and the oafish jock fight over a girl. Except they never get into the physical altercation Brom wanted. He goaded Ichabod constantly, pulling pranks on him. But Ichabod never took the bait.”

I looked at my tablet, where a black and white photograph of a man stared back at me, then returned to them both. Dean withdrew a change of clothes from his bag, then headed back to the bathroom. Through the open door, he said, “So the story goes, Ichabod went to a party at the Van Tassel farm where he intended to woo and win over Katrina. Brom, instead, scares the living piss out of him with a bunch of ghost stories, one of which was the Headless Horseman.”

“Yeah, I remember that much,” I said. “And then he tried to propose to Katrina, but she shot him down.”

“Exactly,” Sam chimed. “I love how ambiguous the ending is here. Ichabod leaves the party all upset about Katrina. He gets on his horse, Gunpowder, who is very skittish, and heads home. But the Hessian shows up and chases him. Ichabod had just learned the legend, so he heads for the bridge near the Old Dutch Burying Ground. He knows the spirit can’t cross the bridge. Ichabod would have made a decent hunter.”

Dean’s laughter echoed from the bathroom, and he emerged dressed and hair coiffed. “I forgot how innocent this story is. He gets to the bridge and crosses it, but the Hessian hurls his freakin’ head at him before disappearing. The head domes Ichabod and knocks him off his horse. Nobody ever finds his body. Only his hat, Gunpowder’s wrecked saddle, and a randomly smashed pumpkin were found near the bridge.”

A thought bubbled up in the back of my mind and raced to my lips. “So that’s where the jack-o-lantern head comes from. What if… holy shit, what if it was just a prank gone wrong? What if Brom was playing another trick on him and accidentally killed Ichabod?”

Hesitation stalled them both as Sam and Dean regarded one another. Then Dean turned to me and asked, “That does not explain what the hell happened last night. No fucking way that was a prank.”

I hated it, but I knew he was right. “But then what the hell! I’m almost beginning to think it is a tulp—”

“It’s notta tulpa!” Sam shouted. Dean clamped a hand over his mouth, and his shoulders shook with uncontrollable laughter. Sam rounded on him and barked, “Shut up!”

“I can’t help it,” Dean managed through peeling laughter. “Your Arnold impression is improving.”

“C’mon, guys, we need to figure this out,” I groaned.

Dean settled through a deep breath, although his face remained far too red. Sam slumped into his seat again, his stare glazing over, unseeing. When he remained silent, Dean said, “Alright, let’s say they’re spirits. And it’s still this mess of combined ancient myths, ghost stories, and cultural legends. We’re still on the same page there, right?”

Sam and I nodded slowly. “After what happened last night, there’s no way they’re anything else.”

“If they’re spirits that haven’t moved on, we have to burn the bodies,” I stated.

“Or destroy an object that might be keeping them topside,” Dean added.

Scrambled thoughts rattled through my mind as I ran down a list of objects. I soon found myself lost in a warren of possibilities, and as I stared ahead at my tablet, equally dazed as Sam. An answer picked at the edge of my subconscious, like a half-remembered dream. No matter how hard I tried to grasp it, the thought slipped through my hand like water.

“None of it is real.”

From the corner of my eye, I glared at Sam. He remained still, his glassy far-off stare yet unfocused as he spoke. "It's all stories. They're all stories that are too much of a mess for a tulpa. So none of it is real. Whatever these spirits have latched onto, it's nothing from those stories." 

With his words, the image on my tablet clarified as my mind focused. Understanding crept along my skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. I stood then, spurred to my feet, and spoke. “The unmarked grave never mattered. It’s fake.”

Sam nodded. “There aren’t any bodies to burn because those bodies never existed to begin with.”

“It’s all fairy tales and make-believe bullshit,” Dean declared.

I looked first to Sam, then Dean, then back to my tablet, where an image of Washington Irving filled the screen. I turned the tablet to face them, and all at once, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Together, we spoke.

“Death of the author.”

Never in my entire life had I wished to be anywhere else more than at that very moment.

Three stark-white flashlights illuminated a grand headstone, memorialized by the town of Sleepy Hollow, for one Washington Irving. After so many years without care, overgrowth covered much of the base, and the stone desperately needed a washing. Beyond that, none of us made a single move to start the arduous process of digging five feet into the earth. We simply stood there, silent as the dead beneath our boots.

"Either of you uncomfortable with this?" Dean asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Sam and I replied.

Dean started towards the headstone and said, "Good. Glad it's not just me. Something about this feels wrong."

"It's because we've never seen someone's spirit manifest as anything other than itself," Sam stated. "We're literally digging up a guy because his spirit might have transfigured into characters from his own story."

"Can spirits even do that?" I asked as I scanned the treeline of the graveyard. Though dense fog had choked the grounds last night, literal clouds suffocated the entire cemetery where we stood. "That seems like a lot of power for a single spirit."

Dean posted at the head of the grave. "Only one way to find out." He pocketed his flashlight and hefted his shovel. When he saw us still standing at the foot of the plot, he said, "I'm not digging this grave on my own."

Despite the need to end such a vengeful spirit, I had little motivation to help. Slower than necessary, I picked up my shovel and shuffled to the center of the plot. Sam stepped in behind me, shovel at the ready.

Dean raised his shovel to his waist. Before he moved further, a distant, indiscernible sound echoed through the woods. What was once visible of the nearby treeline no longer was. That thick fog filled the darkness, and I saw neither trees nor sky nor stars. I heard the sound again, too far to tell what it was, but not far enough to miss. My flashlight shook violently as I spun about, but I found nothing besides the Impala behind us.

I turned back to Dean just in time to watch as he plunged his shovel's blade into the dirt. Agonizingly slow, it descended each inch slower than the last. That distant sound echoed once more, ever so slightly closer. As though he conducted an orchestra, that sound crescendoed into an unbearable scream as Dean’ shovel descended until metal returned to the earth.

Earsplitting thunder exploded overhead, and instinct forced all three of us to our knees. That booming drum rolled, mutated until it rumbled through the ground. I knew that sound, too familiar with the feel reverberating through my feet. A fresh wave of icy dread coursed through my veins as those thundering hooves pounded the dirt.

Over the headstone, I pointed my flashlight as I stood. Terror incarnate barreled through the graveyard astride his deathly steed. Above his head, a readied missile sprouted flames as he raced towards us. Every instinct screamed to run. Fuck everything about the legend, the haunting, just get the hell out of there.

But I couldn't move. Frozen solid, I merely gripped my flashlight and shivered.

"Run!"

Dean's shove launched me into Sam's arms, kickstarting my senses. I sprinted for the Impala, desperate for her salvation. I reached it a beat behind Sam and Dean and dove into the backseat. The engine roared to life with a sharp snarl as Dean twisted the ignition. He wrenched down on the shifter, slammed on the gas, and I launched into the backrest as the car sped off in reverse.

"What are you doing?!" I screamed.

"What I should have done last night!" he barked.

I opened my mouth to demand a better answer but only managed to scream and gesticulate wildly. The Headless Horseman vaulted Washington Irving's headstone and, in one smooth motion, launched his flaming cannonball directly at the car.

The sickening crunch of iron on steel paled in comparison to Dean's wail of rage. He threw the wheel to the left, and I grasped onto the backrest as the car lurched, spinning about-face. The transmission groaned in protest as Dean threw the shifter into drive and slammed on the gas once more. With all her horses leaping down the road, the Impala raced into the night, and I flattened against the backseat.

"Mother fucking piece of shit ghost!" Dean bellowed. "Fucking hit my car with a god damned cannonball! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me?!"

“Dean, just watch where you’re going!” Sam shouted as he braced against the backrest and the frame of the car.

The speedometer slid past eighty, and I gripped the leather backrest, nails scoring the supple hide. Sweat coated my palms, and my heart railed against my chest. "Dean, what the hell are you doing! You're going to get us killed!"

The fork in the road appeared around the sharp corner, and Dean roared, "Just trust me!" as he took the paved road to the left.

One hundred. The blinding flash of a memory overpowered my senses. Nearly forgotten, the dull vision replayed in my mind, muted, as though it belonged to someone else. A car sped along a country road. A dog. Spinning, careening, crashing. I screamed as my seatbelt failed. Blood pooled in the cornstalks beneath a sky so blue.

"Try to follow me now, you son of a bitch!"

Dean's voice snapped me back to reality. Behind us, the Headless Horseman gained, and his whip gathered with a flick of his wrist. The vicious bones uncoiled, and another memory threatened to take me under once more. It seemed that death had its own wish for me and would not rest until it came true. Another flash of a fresh memory consumed my senses, dragged me down to my own personal hell. But then a light emerged amidst the darkness, warm and enveloping. I opened my eyes to find Sam holding my hand.

"Focus, Y/N. Stay with me, we're gonna get through this, I promise."

"There's the bridge!" Dean shouted as he pointed. The engine whined, straining under his insistent foot. He glared in his rearview mirror as he growled, "Let's race, motherfucker."

The Impala raced over the transition from asphalt to old stone and wood, rattling the car from nose to rear end. Sam’s fingers turned ghastly white in my grip, but he paid that no mind. His focus remained steady, wide eyes staring into mine. Though he tried to reassure me, the roar of the Impala swallowed his words, and they fell on deaf ears. Like a moth to the flame, I turned back to the Headless Horseman one last time.

The coiled whip unfurled laboriously, each bone rolling over the next and slower than the last. That crawl, that agonizingly painful creep blurred the liminal space between truth and myth’s fabrication until nothing but a swathe of gray smeared reality. My mind filled in that blank void, and I knew then that death had arrived to collect his escaped prisoner.

But the end never came. That infinite second ticked by, lost to the endless depths of space and time as the car breached the end of the bridge. I braced myself against Sam as he reached over the backrest for me. Dean stood both feet on the brake, and the car lurched forward as the tires seized, shredding on the asphalt. When the deafening roar of the Impala faded to its soothing idle, I eased my grip on Sam's arms, and he returned to his seat. Dean checked both of us before scrambling from the car, and we followed not a beat behind.

In the center of the bridge, the Headless Horseman and his nightmare steed hung in the air, suspended mid-gallop. A deep purple glow seeped through the grouted stone surrounding the horse, and beneath his hooves, the bricks quaked. Violent flashes of an eerie green mist lanced from the cracks in the centuries-old rock and lashed the rider’s raised arms to drag him from his horse. Wrenched free of the saddle, he crashed to the stone, his metal armor clattering with a sickening crunch. I winced, unsure of what I was witnessing, an unwitting and unwilling voyeur.

But I forced myself to keep looking. I had to. I had to see it through to the end, to know without a shadow of a doubt that we had indeed laid such a vengeful spirit to rest.

The Hessian launched into the air with a vicious twist of the mysterious green lashes. Gale winds swept over the bridge, filling my nose with burning brimstone, and then the horse burst into flames. He screamed his unholy cry, and I startled into Sam's arms. Though I continued to watch, I cowered into him, and he held me close without a word. The vile inferno consumed the horse in seconds, reducing him to a pile of ash.

The rider convulsed as though in pain, writhing and contorting so awkwardly to be free of his bonds. Metal twisted, grinding and scraping against itself in his bid for escape. I realized then that, in his death throes, the Headless Horseman would emit no other sound. He could not beg for forgiveness nor absolution. He could not plead for his continued existence nor one last moment on earth. No last words with a loved one. And for a minuscule second, I pitied him.

Lightning fractured the sky as the purple glow between the bricks focused in a circle encompassing the rider. As the edges brightened, the bricks inside slipped away into an endless darkness. I had seen nothing like it in all my years hunting. And as the green bonds lowered him towards the void, he thrashed, deeply aware of the end that approached.

A scream rent from my mouth as an arm of sinew and bone and rotted flesh burst from the black depths and grasped the rider's leg. Metal collapsed like tissue paper beneath the fierce grip, and bone crumpled to dust. Another arm lunged for his chest and cleaved his breastplate in two, embedding in his ribs. A third nearly ripped his arm from its socket, his forearm crushed, and a fourth pierced his thigh. Those horrifying limbs dragged the Headless Horseman to his doom, jailors imprisoning their captive.

Feet, legs, and torso succumbed to the darkness, and a defeated stillness settled his ruined body. At last, his arms and headless shoulders sank beneath the zenith, and The Headless Horseman was no more. Like so many grains of sand through an hourglass, the ashes of his steed followed him into the void. 

A final flare of purple and green light surged as lightning illuminated the sky once more. Wind settled, and clouds parted to reveal a full, brilliant moon and a night sky full of glittering stars. At last, the void receded, and the bridge stood whole once more. The sounds of night creatures returned, and the clearing surrounding the bridge expanded as though it took a full, deep breath to hold, its first in thirty years.

Maybe, it knew. Just as I felt it in my bones, the trees, the stone, the tall grass, and the creek beneath the bridge all felt it down to their tiniest molecules. It was over. At long last, the Headless Horseman was no more.

For now.

A clattering of bones cut through the peaceful calm, and I flung my arms out ahead of Sam and Dean. Not that I would protect them from much of anything, what with nothing but my bare fists at the ready. Tension crept across my shoulders when I spotted the source of the sound, and the three of us scrambled backwards towards the car.

The bone whip rattled to a stop a few feet from us, perfectly coiled with its handle extended towards my boots. I regarded Sam first, then Dean, only to then turn back for the Impala's trunk with a scoff. A readied can of salt lay on top of the stockpile, and I grabbed it as I grumbled to myself.

"Unless something's keeping it topside.” I slammed the trunk shut. “Gimme a break. Of course, something was keeping it here," I continued to myself as I stomped back to Sam and Dean. I prodded the latter in the shoulder and asked, "How? How the hell did you know?"

Dean shook his head as he held his lighter in one hand and withdrew a motel matchbook from his pocket. "I didn't. I didn't know the bridge would work. And I didn't know the whip had anything to do with it. I just had a—"

"Remember the last time I had a hunch and convinced you to drive the Impala over a hundred?" Sam interjected.

Before Dean could respond, I spoke. "Speaking of which…" I paused as I finished pouring a generous amount of salt on the neat pile of bones and snapped the can shut. "Don't ever drive that fast again."

Dean’s brow shot to his hairline as his jaw dropped. He gestured to the bridge, looked to it, then turned to the pile of bones and gesticulated wildly at them. After he stuttered the beginning of a few statements, he blurted, "What was I supposed to do?!"

"Not one-oh-five, that's for damn sure!" I stated. "We could have died!"

"We would have if I hadn't—"

"Alright, that's enough!" Sam interjected. "I'm sorry I brought it up. Let's just put this son of a bitch away for good this time."

"Yes, sir," Dean agreed. "One salt and burn, coming right up."

The book of matches took the flame of Dean's lighter with a sharp hiss. A flick of his wrist sent the little ball of fire cascading to the ground, and in a single beat of my heart, red consumed the world in a crimson concussion.

The ring in my ears faded, and the blinding light dimmed, darkness settling around us once more. Flat on my back, I stared up at the shimmering night sky, beyond dazed. When I sat up, Sam’s hollow voice called from afar. But the moment his touch soothed my shoulders, a shock of clarity rushed through me, and I saw he knelt over me.

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he repeated. “You okay?”

I thought for a moment, taking inventory once again. No broken bones, no blood. Not even a hint of pain despite the lingering soreness from the previous night. “I… I think so. What happened?”

Dean strode into view, an ornately gilded box cradled in his hands. He set it on the ground at his feet, and then I spotted it. The whip lay intact where it had rolled to a stop earlier. Salt scorched black cowered beneath the pale white bones as though frightened of its failure to purify the whip. I pointed at it and repeated myself. “What the fuck just happened?!”

Sam spoke when Dean hesitated. “It looks like the whip is protected. Somehow. Whether the Headless Horseman did it or it’s part of his curse, I’m not sure. And it’s irrelevant anyway. We’ll have to find some other way to destroy it.”

“But then… What happened last time? With your dad?” I asked as I stood. Sam hopped to my side once more, his gentle strength lifting me to my feet.

Metal rasped on metal, and my attention snapped to Dean. His hand rested atop the box, the metal gears working with fine clicks and clanks. When he removed his hand, the lid lifted half an inch and hissed a violent release of pressure. Of its own accord, the lid then continued to rise, revealing rich black velvet. Darker than night, the fabric lined the entire box, and it absorbed the moonlight, much like the void that had taken the Headless Horseman. When Dean withdrew a similar thick velvet cloth from the box, he spoke. “John did put the Headless Horseman away thirty years ago.” He paused as he grasped the whip with the velvet. Gingerly, he eased it into the box, then spread the cloth over it. The heavy lid shut with a hollow thunk and the metal gears worked once more, sealing shut on its own. “But, he came back.”

“Because of the whip?” I asked.

Dean nodded as hefted the box and turned for the Impala. Sam and I followed, eager to be on our way. Given our cargo, I doubted Dean would want to stay another night in Sleepy Hollow. Resolved, I figured I’d at least steal a pillow for the ride back.

We followed as Sam said, “We’ll take it back to the Bunker and find another way to destroy it.”

“Otherwise…” My question drifted, lingering like an unwanted guest that had overstayed their welcome.

With a grunt, Dean shoved the box into the trunk. “Otherwise, the next unlucky bastard that touches this thing will become the Headless Horseman.”

The terrifying implication settled in the pit of my stomach. An indestructible weapon possessing unwitting people. And yet, I knew that dichotomy well. Old as time, that one. The immovable object, an inanimate manifestation of immortality, meets the unstoppable force, the perpetual stupidity of human curiosity.

“We need to get on the road,” Dean stated as he shut the trunk, then strode for the driver’s door. There, he cried a soft, short sob and spoke to the car. “Oh, Baby, look at you. We’ll get you home and cleaned up.” Then he ripped the cannonball free, wrenched the door open, and slid into the driver’s seat. The awkward crunch of ill-fitting metal joints damn near broke my heart. And not just for Dean, but for the Impala as well, for she had seen us through a most harrowing night yet again.

Sam leaned in beside me then and asked, “Mind if I sit with you?”

“I’d… I’d like that. Very much,” I replied as a sudden chill crept beneath my skin. “I don’t think I could handle the whole ride back by myself.”

He opened the door and gestured ahead. “I make a pretty good pillow.”

As he slid in beside me, I said, “I look forward to finding out.” The warmth of his entire body, so close to mine, pulled me in, a moon to her earth. His long arm draped over my shoulder, and I curled into him. For a brief moment, the case ceased to exist. Only my exhaustion reminded me that I had gone toe to toe with the Headless Horseman and, for the most part, won.

But then a familiar thought occurred to me, and my weary eyes snapped wide open. “It’s true, then.”

“What is?” Dean asked as he turned over the backrest.

My breath caught in my throat, unwilling to put into the universe my worst nightmare. But between Dean’s confident stare and Sam’s soft gaze, I’d never felt safer. Even in my darkest moments, the Winchesters would be there for me. I put my faith and confidence not only in them but in myself as well. No matter what happened next, I believed in us.

“What’s true, Y/N,” Sam asked.

I gave him my best smile and spoke.

“Some urban legends never die.”

Dean shook his head as he turned back to the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. The Impala rattled as she started, exhausted as each of us. When she settled to idle, Dean looked at me in the rearview mirror and spoke.

“No. They live just long enough to meet us.”

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[akechicrimes]

Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

*

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

*

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

*

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

*

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

*

Everything is the same.

*

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

*

Everything is the same.

*

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

*

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”

#mine #slams hands on table FUTAGO SIBLINGS #futaba's dubious mental health cw #Anonymous

[let-it-raines]

another kind of green (1/?)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Everybody remember that Accidentally Married + Forgotten First Meeting prompt @mayquita​ gave me? Well, @xemmaloveskillianx​ requested it as part of my Fic Giveaway, and here we are! I hope that you enjoy this, lovely! I promised myself I’d get the first part up in February because I’ve been promising you this forever. Hopefully the next parts will come soon💚

Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for reading over this for me!

Found on AO3 | Here |

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed, no biggie either way) @xemmaloveskillianx​ @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi  @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells

-/- 

“So, what am I doing?”

“It’s a wedding convention,” Mary Margaret explains as she pulls the threads to button Emma into her dress, “and part of it is having wedding vendors watch a fake wedding so they can see what to do and what not to do and how a wedding should flow.”

“That’s a real thing? And you signed me up to work it?”

“It’s a real thing. Did you not read the package I sent you when I emailed you your contract?”

“Marg, you’ve been my agent for five years. I usually just trust what you say.” The dress squeezes Emma, and her breath stutters. Damn this dress is tight. How is she supposed to stay in this all day? How do actual women do this? And pay money to do this? The whole wedding industry is some kind of hoax. “Plus, this pays, like, three thousand dollars with a free trip to Vegas. I saw that and didn’t really care what exactly I had to do for it.”

Emma knows that Mary Margaret it probably rolling her eyes and that she has a lecture on the tip of her tongue about Emma reading her contracts, but it’s nothing Emma hasn’t heard before. It’s the former teacher in Mary Margaret, but this is why Emma has her in the first place. She takes care of all things business, and all Emma does is show up for fittings – usually wedding dresses but occasionally regular clothes for boutiques to put on their websites or Instagram pages – and photoshoots. It’s a good arrangement that Emma doesn’t plan on changing until she has to, but that’s not going to be anytime soon. This is good money, and she’s not stupid enough to pass up on a good thing when those have been all too rare in her life.

“We’ve got an hour until you have to be in the ballroom downstairs. I’ll read the guidelines to you as you get your hair pinned back because you’re going to need to know the flow of the wedding since you’re supposed to stay in character as a loving bride for the entire day. I do mean loving, Emma. You have to smile nearly the entire time. You’re going to have to kiss this man too, okay?”

“Wait, what?”

Mary Margaret’s sigh is the loudest Emma has ever heard it.

-/-

It turns out that Emma definitely needed to read the packet (at least more than an hour before the job) detailing what exactly her job today was going to be, and she swears to herself that she’ll do it next time she’s not doing a simple photoshoot.

(She won’t, but she really should.)

There are lines that Emma has to say, and there’s a minute-by-minute schedule of where she’s supposed to be standing and what she’s supposed to be doing. It’s basically an acting job, and while that isn’t really Emma’s thing, she can do it. She’s always been able to easily memorize things, a habit she picked up growing up not knowing how long she’d be allowed to use the computer or have a book in whatever shitty foster home she was in, and she’s almost got this fake wedding thing down.

Fake pictures with bridesmaids.

Fake wedding ceremony.

Fake pictures with her fake husband.

Fake reception.

Fake everything.

She doesn’t have enough friends to be going to actual weddings every other weekend, which is good for her bank account, but she’s been working in the wedding industry for long enough and seen one too many romantic comedies to know how most of this works. Pretending to be a bride for more than an hour or two might be a different story since she apparently has to keep her smile the entire time.

God, her jaw hurts just thinking about it.  

Mary Margaret hands her off to the director for the day, some peppy woman with red hair and the brightest smile she’s ever seen, and Emma is quickly shuffled to a back room where she’s given directions that should take an hour to give in under a minute. Damn that woman can talk.

She’s also introduced to her husband for the day.

He’s standing in the opposite corner of the room, dressed in a perfectly fitted blue tuxedo with a matching bowtie, and she sees his biceps flex when he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s got a sharp jawline that’s covered in black scruff that’s a lighter shade than the hair on his head that’s swooped to the side, and he’s got the bluest eyes Emma has ever seen.

Damn.

Basically, he’s a model like all of the other models she works with on a regular basis, and as attractive as he is, she’s used to it. She’s definitely never going to see the guy again because while they’re in Vegas for the convention, she lives in Boston, and from the deep timber of his possibly British accent, she imagines he is based out of London or New York or something.

Killian is his name. He mentions his last name, but then the director, Anna, Emma thinks, is tugging them away to different places to start the wedding so that she doesn’t hear it well enough to remember it.

Oh, well, she’s got a fake wedding to attend.

-/-

Being a fake bride is a damn good time.

Remembering her lines and her cues is more difficult than she thought it would be, if only because she learned it all at the last minute, but once the actual ceremony is finished and they get to move onto the reception, everything is great. There’s drinking and dancing (her fake groom is a damn good dancer, and while she expected them to sway back and forth for the first dance, she thinks it might have been an actual dance like the waltz or something) and more drinking. Emma doesn’t even really like champagne, but when she’s given free champagne on the job, she’s going to take it.

She’d be dumb to pass that up, right?

Right.

“Swan,” Killian calls out, walking up to her at their head table where she’s snagging one of the appetizers off the plate, “they want us back out dancing.”

“Are you serious?” she mumbles, mouth full of a crab cake.

“Apparently none of these vendors have seen a couple dancing at a wedding.”

Emma huffs and grabs another crab cake. “Well, take me away sailor.”

Killian grabs her hand, warm and rough fingers so unlike most guys in the industry pressing into her skin, and tugs her along into the small group of people who are moving to the music. Emma’s not sure if they’re also models or actors or whatever or if they’re legitimately just the wedding vendors attending the event, but she doesn’t really care. So she wraps her arms around Killian’s neck as he puts his hands on her hips and tugs her closer until their bodies are completely pressed together as the music continues to play over the speakers.

But then the music is changing to something a bit faster, and Emma is pulling back from him while still staying close, making sure that their bodies are continuously pressed together. She’s not in a club or a bar, and she’s not nearly drunk enough to be grinding down on someone she doesn’t know, but she’s in a wedding dress at her fake wedding. When else is she going to get a chance to do this?

(Almost every other day at her job, but that’s decidedly beside the point.)

(And she’s usually not dancing. Just wearing a wedding dress.)

(Her life is too much and too strange if she takes the time to think about it.)

Besides, Killian is hot. In her mind, she can’t think of any other way to describe him, especially when his hands are pressing against her waist and he’s rolling his hips into her ass and his breath is hot in her ear as he laughs and keeps speaking words that seem to roll into each other as the conversation keeps flowing. She could listen to his accent forever.

It’s not going to be forever, though, because when they’re told that they’re finished with their job and stripped out of the expensive dress and tailored tux and put back into the clothes they showed up in this morning, the night seems to be winding down to its natural end.

Until, that is, Killian takes her hand once more, asks her if she’d like to go up to his room for another drink, and Emma says yes, thinking to herself that it’s definitely going to be a one-time thing. She’ll never see him again, never have to look into his eyes or hear his voice, and nothing is going to keep her from sleeping with the hot guy she’s spent all day pretending to be in love with.

She’s not in love, though, but that doesn’t keep her from hotly pressing her mouth to his as they walk through the hotel’s hallway, the both of them stopping in their tracks to take a few moments to press each other up against a wall on the way to his hotel room. She doesn’t know how long it takes to get there, especially since they seem to keep getting distracted and wander into new places, but Emma doesn’t care. She doesn’t care because his scruff feels deliciously perfect brushing up against her thigh, and she doesn’t care because he’s warm and thick, stretching her and filling her, when he slides in and presses down on top of her. She doesn’t care because even though she knows they’re both only doing this as a way to scratch an itch, this is a damn good night.

Her fake husband is going to make some other woman very lucky on their real wedding night, but for now, that’s not something she’s going to think about.

For now, this pleasure is all hers.

His too, if his words are any real indication.

(They definitely are.)

-/-

“What am I doing today?”

“You have dress fittings for the summer catalog of dresses.”

“How? It’s literally August. How can it be time for the summer catalog of dresses again?”

Mary Margaret sighs on the other end of the phone. One day she’s most definitely going to drop Emma as a client and a friend and return to teaching because Emma can never quite seem to get her shit together on how the wedding industry works. She’s already prepping herself for the same lecture that she’s heard at least twenty times by now.

“People plan their weddings months to years in advance, Emma. This is actually a late photoshoot. I think they want the pictures up on the website by next month, so you cannot miss this appointment.”

“Have I ever missed an appointment, Marg?”

“Yes, remember when – ”

“That was one time,” Emma interrupts, rolling over on her mattress and getting out of bed. If she doesn’t do it now, she never will. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s at ten, okay? Ask for Ashely.”

“Are you not coming?”

“I’ve got a shoot with Ruby. I figured you can handle a fitting by yourself.” There’s a short pause. “You can handle a fitting by yourself, can’t you?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“Then stop acting like such a mom.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Yeah, well, when you don’t have a mom…”

“Emma.”

“Sorry,” Emma spits out, wanting to change the conversation as quickly as possible. “So ask for Ashley?”

“Ask for Ashley, and don’t drink all of the complimentary champagne.”

Emma groans. “I can’t even think about champagne. I think I’m still recovering from that hangover from two weeks ago. I mean, who goes to Vegas and gets drunk on champagne?”

“People who work in the wedding industry. It’s basically our water. Bye, Emma. I’ve got to go.”

“Bye, Marg. Tell David he still owes me from losing that poker game.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” After Mary Margaret hangs up the phone, Emma quickly walks into her bathroom, brushing her hair out and pulling it up into a ponytail before washing her face and rubbing moisturizer into her skin. She used to curl her hair and do a full face of makeup every time she had a fitting, but she doesn’t do that anymore. There’s no point. They’ll put makeup on her when they need it.

Fifteen minutes later she’s drinking her second cup of coffee for the day, lacing up her sneakers so she can go to the gym after the fitting, and then she’s grabbing her phone and her keys only for there to be a knock at the door. She almost ignores it, figuring it’s someone trying to sell her a new knife set or something else ridiculous like that, but when she looks through her peephole, there’s something oddly familiar about the guy. But she meets a lot of people, so that’s not all that uncommon.

Sighing, she undoes the chain on her door and opens it the slightest bit so she can talk to the guy and see what he wants.

“Who are you?”

He smiles, lips curling up into a smirk while his blue eyes glint under the florescent lights. “Your husband, love.”

#another kind of green #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

[luv-surveys]

45

Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? yes i have. What has been bothering you a lot lately? the fact that i’m sick and super behind on all of my homework but can’t do anything about it. What (or who) have you been missing lately? i’ve been missing home lately since i’m going home this weekend for the first time in a few months. Are you trustworthy? i’d like to believe so. Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? they never specified but i was taught that lies in general are bad. Have you ever hallucinated? yes. Do you sleep with your door open or closed? i sleep with my bedroom door open, but i sleep with my dorm door closed. What flags do you have in your room, if any? i don’t have any flags. What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? i’d probably say beginning to play music in fourth grade, as that really set me down the path that i’m on right now as a student in music school. What is the worst decision you ever made? probably beginning to let my anxiety control me -- it led me down a path that i’m still recovering from, a year later. Do you miss college? no, given that i’m in college right now... Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? i once called my french teacher “mom” because i accidentally said “madame” without the d so it sounded like “ma-ame” = “mom.” What is your favorite arcade game? probably skee-ball. i used to play that all the time growing up. Do you feel neglected? no. What school subject(s) are/were your best? definitely french and english. Are you allergic to grass? no. Do you remember to water plants? no... hence why i don’t own plants anymore. What season is your birthday in? it’s in fall. Name 3 creative people you know. my friend sophie, my friend danielle, and my friend dan. Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. i’d say aspen ovard, jasmine from tbhstudying, and ava jules. What color was your first car? i’ve never owned a car. What year did you graduate? i graduated this year, 2020. When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? last saturday. Have you ever been scammed? yes. Are you allergic to pollen? yes :( What style of wedding dress do you like best? probably ballgown. Are you over your first love? i’m like 90% there. Do you talk on the phone a lot? pretty often. Would you rather call or text? probably text. Do you always answer your phone? no, i only answer if i recognize the number. When was the last time you went to a party? there really haven’t been any parties since quarantine started, but my friend did have a birthday in may, so probably then. What was the last thing you ate? chicken noodle soup. What’s the last book you checked out from the library? i checked out like nine books, all young adult fantasy. Do you have a twitter? no. If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? nothing. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? the guy i’m seeing. What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? pancakes. What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? white and gold. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? a girl on my snap. Who sent the last e-mail you got? my flute professor responding to my email about a rental. What song is currently stuck in your head? “look what you made me do” by taylor swift Do you have a favorite shape? probably circle. What color are the sheets on your bed? at home, they’re yellow. in my dorm, they’re pink, What time do you usually go to bed? usually, i go to bed between 11 and 12. Do you ever use coloring books? no. Are you planning on watching the Olympics? when they actually happen, yes. Do you pronounce the word “often” with or without a “t” in the middle? with the t. Have you ever been on a trapeze? no. Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? yes of course. Are there any waterfalls near where you live? no. Do you like seafood? not particularly -- i do like shrimp, though. Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? yes, for marching band. If so, what did it look like? it was a maroon jacket, black bibbers, black long socks, black marching shoes, white gauntlets, white gloves, and a maroon shako. and under we had to wear our tour shirts and spandex/leggings. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? yes, my dad is. Do you own a Polaroid camera? nope. Do you enjoy baking? i love baking! What’s your favorite type of flower? right now, daisies. Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? home from florida. Do you know anyone who is left-handed? i have a couple left-handed friends and family members. What is something you think is underrated? probably classical music. too many people think it’s boring but there are some really amazing pieces. Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? probably around 85 degrees. In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? i expect covid to not be as big of an issue. How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? probably around once a month at most. What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? definitely reading. i used to read all the time, and now i just don’t have the time or motivation. What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? i’ve never had a job. What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? probably guacamole. Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? i don’t have a car. Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? alaska. Farthest south? florida. East? russia. West? again, alaska. How often do you run the dishwasher? at my house, we run the dishwasher every night. Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? i wash it in the shower. Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. i don’t enjoy wearing dresses whatsoever. Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. i don’t have any interest in trying drugs or smoking. Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? we have a “butler” named jeeves, a family of elephants on a window sill facing away from the front door for good luck, and a couple other things. Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? we have a panini maker and other things like that. What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? my mom majored in psychology while my dad majored in business. Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? nope. What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? precalculus. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? probably around 7. How old were you when you learned how to swim? i’d say 10ish. How do you react when someone is rude to you? i get annoyed but try to remain sweet and kind so i don’t stoop to their level/they don’t have anything against me. Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? yes, and it was annoying. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? probably snowstorms/blizzards. Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? i hate winter because it’s cold and depressing. Do you have a Netflix account? yes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? yeah, occasionally that happens. Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? i enjoy traveling to europe since there’s so much history there. How long does it take to get there? it’d be about a six hour flight. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? this fall when i started college. What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? i’d say our downstairs bathroom -- i never use that bathroom. What is the last random act of kindness you did? i can’t really remember since i’ve been alone and sick for the past few days. Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? not really... Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? yes, but if it’s some type of body part (like liver) then no. Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? no. Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? nope. Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? not currently. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? no. If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? i never post on facebook. Which friend do you confide in most? the guy i’m seeing haha. Do you wear a cross? no. What is your opinion on Arby’s? it’s good and their fries are amazing. When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? i’d like an island definitely, and lots of counter space. i’d want it to be an open layout too. What is your favorite doughnut? probably jelly. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? no way. Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? i have never read the entire series or been interested in it. What is your favorite party game? wii party or cards against humanity. Do you or your parents rake your yard? my parents do. Were you pro-Obama? nope, but i couldn’t vote anyway. What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? i think a thousand wishes?  What was the last illegal thing you did? probably speeding when i was driving. Who did you last go to the movies with? i think my sister, her boyfriend, and my ex. What color was the last vehicle you were in? white. Do you have any family members in the military right now? nope. Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? no. When was the last time you wished time would move faster? during my class earlier today. Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? nope. Have you ever heard voices? Audibly? no. Do you believe in angels and demons? yes. Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? we have neighbors that accuse us of things we don’t do and get into fights with us over stupid things. Did your Barbies go on dates? yes! If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? i’m straight. Where did you meet your first crush? school. Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? nope. Do you ever go places with wet hair? occasionally, but i try not to. Who is your favorite little girl? probably my cousin. What do you want the most in life? happiness. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? my college decision. Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? occasionally, yeah. When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? yep, i keep it closed and locked. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? maybe ariana grande. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? classical, jazz, and electroswing. Where did you buy your dishes from? i’m pretty sure my mom gets them from williams-sonoma. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? not in my lifetime. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? probably some type of appliance that i never use. What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? my shower shoes! Have you ever been on a ship? yeah. Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? nope. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? i don’t know what you’re talking about lol. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? maybe dumbledore from harry potter? i can’t think of anyone off the top of my head. What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had? forensic sciences. Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces? all the time. What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy? no... not every size is healthy bruh. Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? yes. Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite) yeah. Ever gave one? nope. Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type? more shy. Do you think it’s weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? nah. Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about? a lot, but mainly my height and paleness. Are you flirty at all? sometimes. Are you racist at all? no. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) depends on the disability, but more likely than not, no. If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? probably look around for parents, and if they’re not there, contact authorities. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? i’d rather have my own. What would you class as cheating on someone? purposefully seeking a romantic relationship/interaction with another person. Do you try to be politically correct? i try to. What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? maybe starfish. Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? no. As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? hoops! Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it? i don’t think it’s humiliating, but from my experience, i don’t know if it’s worth teaching. Do you recycle? yeah. Are you interested in current world issues? for the most part. Do you think you are mature, or immature? mostly mature. What kind of career are you interested in? i’m interested in teaching or performing music. Do you own a pair of sunglasses? yes. Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which? i use all of the above. How badly do you get acne? (If at all) i barely get any acne. What’s the best way to cope with a breakup? remember all the things you hated about them and distract yourself. also, a glow-up and showing off your successes never hurts. If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? probably because they think i’m egotistical. How many text messages do you have in your inbox atm? 72. When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make? probably deciding whether or not i should stay with the guy i’m seeing. In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult? math! Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with? not really. Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? here at college. Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? a kid from my theory class. Who was the last person that asked if you were okay? my roommate, because i’ve been unhealthy. What does your handwriting look like? it’s pretty bubbly and very neat. Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner? yes, i use dry shampoo and dry conditioner. Who were your best friends in primary school? lindsey. Do you still speak to any of them? nope. What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine? i think candy. What color hair did your first crush have? blond. What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? moccasins! Are you more masculine or feminine? more feminine, definitely. If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? something minimalist, like a tiny illustration. What is the best beach you’ve been to? the beach at ocean city, maryland. What is one thing you physically can’t do? i cannot do a pull-up, nope. Have you ever been to a funeral? yep. Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? no. Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? yes. Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? yeah, the one on the left close to the front. What is your favorite park? probably six flags? or disney? Have you ever felt an earthquake? nope. Do you chew gum regularly? no. Where did you go on your first train ride? i think when i was a baby. Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? yep. What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) i don’t root for any sports teams. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? no ma’am. What is something you are confident about? my eye color. Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? i’ve been addicted to afrin during colds, but i always manage to tear myself away. How do you feel about needles? they’re not great, but i’m not particularly scared of them. What is your favorite accent to listen to? i love scottish accents. What was the reason you last got dressed up? church. Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? not really. ^ What were they? -- Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? more form-fitting. ^ What about on your preferred gender? more form-fitting as well. What do you do when you are really, really mad? i go somewhere to be alone so i can cool off. Would you rather go naked than wear fur? i’d rather wear fur, but i wouldn’t like it. Do you put a line through your 7’s? no. ^ What about your Z’s? nope. What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? cheat on me if we’re in a relationship. Are you able to forgive and forget? it’s hard, but sometimes. Do you like cold pizza? no. What is your favorite fruit? pineapple! What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? white grape juice has my heart. Do you like broccoli and cheese? i’ve never had it but it sounds yummy. What about potatoes and cheese? oh yeah that’s good. Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? yep, to the guy i’m seeing. Toaster or toaster oven? toaster. What are you most known for? being a musician haha. Do you have any reputations? What are they? i don’t believe so. Do you wear band shirts? nope. ^ What band was on the last one you wore? -- Do you own any hats? Describe them. yeah, i own a black adidas cap and a white cap. What about masks, you got any? Describe those. oh, i have plenty... thanks covid. i have a black one, a white one, a pink one, a brown one, a green camo one, and a blue floral one. What was the last thing to leave you speechless? probably my flu since it hurts to talk LOL. Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? yep. Have you been called a bad influence? no way. Describe your favorite pair of socks. i like all my pairs of black socks. Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately? not really. Have any self-done piercings? nope. Ever pierced someone else? nooo. Do you get distracted easily? sometimes, but not if i’m focused on homework. Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? it’s stressful usually. How do you feel about getting new neighbors? it’s exciting! How many ceiling fans are in your home? one. Do you tweet your life away? nope. How do you feel about shameless self promoting? i don’t mind it if it isn’t too in the way. When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? yep. What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? uh-huh.

[tc-love]

Erm I've had alot of issues trying answer this because I've never answered an ask on Tumblr ;w; I think I accidentally deleted the ask or something so I'll just have to tag the submitter. It was #2 on my ask list from @baeby-tc

"2. What's the most memorable moments you've had with your tc? ( ◜‿◝ )"

G and I talked after-school until he had to leave. It was about 45 minutes after the bell.

He was trying to show me something on his computer, and asked me to come behind his desk to see even though it was showing on the projector. I pointed that out but he insisted and I did. ^^ There's a good chance he didn't hear me or just needed to be able to see what I'm seeing, but I like to imagine he wanted me closer.

I did a very happy, awkward hand flappy motion while saying "I'm fine" in response to him habitually asking how I was. (smiling all gushy like cuz I was in a good mood.) And he did the little motion weakly back, with a kind of amused smile. Too cute ;w;

On the same day we talked for a long time after-school, I decided to ask him why he wore a suit once. He explained it was for a memorial the staff attended in memory of a staff member that passed away. (I already kind of assumed but wanted confirmation) He said "Also I just like looking nice sometimes." I smiled and really had to stop myself from saying "you always look nice."

He sat next to me when he didn't have to. There was a seat next to me that was open, a student to it's right he had to help, and on her other side was another empty chair. He chose the empty chair next to me ^^ I peeked at him a few times, one of which, he smiled at me and asked if I needed any help.

After-school, we had a teeny talk for about a minute or so about something school related I think. We both were friendly and I felt kind of bad leaving the conversation at that, but I couldn't really take it any further. However, as I was about halfway out the door, he drew me back into the conversation (smiling adorably >w<). I remember smiling at his want to continue chatting and sliding back into the classroom on the pushdoor. I still can't believe he'd intentionally kept me after like that. I don't know if he's lonely or just enjoys talking with me :>

Our first time staying after school talking to eachother for a long while, he gave me a little tour of the classroom. He showed me a lil posing figure, some nice hardware, and the thing I remember well, some story board papers. (For animation stuff cuz he knows I'm into that) His desk is kind of messy so he had some slight difficulty getting them to me which I found kind of cute. He let me have some of them for future self projects I guess? ^^ I never used them for that but I did do a little drawing of him for a holiday on the back of one (a happy accident).

When I got to see him before that holiday break, he had it in a frame with the bow I used to gift it pressed onto it. I felt very special because other drawings from different students were just there without a frame. Later, one did get their own frame but it made me really happy to be that special for a while.

Before an earlier break, he interviewed students in our class (and other classes of course) on camera with a professional setup for some school media stuff or something. I was very busy catching up because I'd missed some days and barely finished some while before the bell. I felt a bit sad that I wasn't a part of the process, but enjoyed onlooking it from the sides when I finished my work. But, when he could've chosen many other students or even let peeps volunteer as they had before, he called me. "(My name), get up here" (or something along those lines) with a wave of his arm and his head tilted. I remember the motion and sound of his voice vividly. It was short because the bell came soon, but very lovely. He talked to me about college and stuff and how he thinks I'll succeed. I showed him some of my art and smiled stupidly the whole time, sometimes hiding it behind my jacket sleeve. When it was over and the bell was almost here, he said "it's a shame," and smiled, pointing at the camera. I was confused. "It wasn't even recording." To be fair, he was letting the kids man it without any knowledge but wouldn't he have known? Either way the way he looked at me was unforgettable 💜

He confirmed that I was his favorite student of the period when I suggested I might be in the sign off of an email. "Your hopefully favorite (last) period student, (my name)

I popped in his class to get him to hang on to something big from a different class I didn't want to carry all day and he looked very surprised. He was the embodiment of Ô_Ô ??? And it was adorable. He just kind of stuttered an "okay" and held on to it. I left smiling widely, just as I'd walked in.

That was stupid lengthy (⊙_◎) Anyways, that may seem like our relationship is pretty close (and I'll admit, in hope, that it is at least a little better than a normal student teacher relationship), but I've had plenty of awkward and/or embarrassing moments with him. And he sends mixed signals. -3- These are just the nice ones. And @baeby-tc I would love to see you answer all of those questions! Tag me if you ever do ^^

#g