#and my grad student...god i can’t wait to just not be working with her anymore and not deal with her

[megantheestalliongf]

i am feeling so.....

[nevermindirah]

Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite​‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen​ used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | five

> series masterlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: (2nd bts member to be revealed) x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut (to come)

words: 4.2k

warnings: implied sexual content, cussing / mature language, relationship issues, angst, club scene, alcohol consumption, intoxication, seokjin is ready to risk it all cause reader is a huge flirt, the love triangle mess shall begin

notes: AH IM SORRY, THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY?!? I TRIED to make this as fair as possible, but i..... clearly have an issue and just really wanted this to be messy lmao 

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish​ @photographic-girl (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Waddup bro." Namjoon steps aside to let Jin in. "Wasn't expecting you to come by since we're seeing each other tonight." Jin chuckled.

"Fuck, that's right." Joon laughs as he hands Jin a bottle of water before sitting.

"What, you forgot? You planned this for your own stepbrother."

"No, I know. Just a lot of things going on." He sips on his water, manspreading in Namjoon's loveseat in the livingroom. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, the headache he felt earlier this morning no longer as bad, but still lingered. After getting home last night, he had tried to push you out of his mind, but failed miserably. It didn't help that he really and genuinely tried to clear the air with Grace, only for her to push him off and sleep on the far end of their bed.

"You alright? What's going on? I feel like I haven't seen you this stressed in a really long time. Last time was probably when you were planning your proposal." Jin softly chuckles, his head still tilted back.

"Yeah, it's been quite the shit show lately."

"Can't be that bad, can it? Have you and Grace been fighting?"

"A tad."

"A tad? The way you're acting right now says it's much more than a tad."

"We've been distant. Busy. We don't do things together anymore." He shortens the shpeel cause quite frankly, he's tired of repeating the story even though he hasn't told many people.

"Why don't you guys talk about it?"

"We can't communicate properly. I try, she gets even more upset and blows me off."

"It's probably just a rough patch in your relationship. I'm sure if you just give each other enough space, you could figure out how to fix things and have a serious conversation about where you both are at and what you need from each other. Remind each other that you're a team, and not working against each other." Jin's slightly shot his head up, his eyebrow raised.

"That's actually pretty solid advice coming from you."

"Shut up, you need help right?" Joon laughs.

"You're right though, it's just been hard. I feel like we've been constantly pushing each other away."

"You two are stubborn."

"Yup, that too." Jin sipped his water.

"I know that's not the only thing on your mind." If it was anyone in Jin's circle, you could count on Namjoon to figure things out before you can even say anything to him. "It's a little hard to believe you came over here to tell me this." In which, he's right. Jin never really talked about his relationship problems, let alone did he go out of his way to tell his friends what was going on. It was more of a thing that naturally came up in conversation when they were all together.

"Don't know what you're talking about." Joon shakes his head.

"Who is she?" Jin watches Namjoon's curious eyes as he leans into the palm of his hand. He was trying to come up with excuses or find ways to see himself out of his conversation, but he couldn't. Namjoon was too smart for this. If it were Yoongi or Hoseok, maybe he could get away with it. The only thing that Jin can come up with is a stupid smirk before he shakes his head and breaks eye contact. "See."

"See what?"

"That smirk. You can't tell me I don't know that smirk. I've been there before, dude. Who is she?" He repeats, causing Jin to succumb to defeat.

"She's a grad student in my creative writing class." Namjoon pauses before he bursts out in laughter.

"I need to sit back and get comfy on my couch for this." He says leaning back and crossing his arms. "She's a grad student? What's her name?" Jin nods.

"Y/N. 25 and so fucking attractive. It's frustrating." Jin groans into his hands.

"And you're telling me you see her more than just a distraction? I mean, I have to ask cause you are going through a rough patch with Grace." Although this is definitely not what Namjoon agrees with, he was only going to advise Jin on how to approach things. But execution-wise, it was up to Jin because this was his life. Namjoon was only part of it.

"She's smart, and she's fun. And.. she's refreshing."

"What did she do to make you feel this way?"

"She kissed me. In my classroom. And," Jin swallows the lump in his throat. "It happened again last night. It almost escalated into other things. But she stopped it." He quickly says because he can see Namjoon's facial expression changing. "She stopped it and she put me in my place because it just made things even more complicated. She said that we should keep our distance from each other."

"Which, she's right Jin. You really can't be doing this." Namjoon says sternly. "Please don't be stupid. This can hurt alot of people, especially since you're still engaged to Grace."

"I know, but likeeeeee--"

"No but's." Joon shook his head. Honestly, he didn't expect this behavior from Jin and it concerned him. "I can't force you on how to act, that's solely up to you. But you need to understand that it has to be one or the other, it can't be both. You either try and work things out with Grace and leave Y/N alone, or you call it quits with Grace."

"Y/N has been occupying my mind lately and it's been hard to push her out."

"Maybe that should be a sign as to what you need to do?" Joon sighs. "I don't know. I don't know her, so I can't say much, but are you really ready to throw away all these years with Grace for her? Like, is it really that serious?" Jin shrugged.

"I don't know, she doesn't want this."

"Correction - she doesn't want this because you're engaged. It's obvious that things would be different if the circumstances changed."

"I love Grace. A lot. We've been through so many things together, lots of ups and downs that taught us things."

"Yeah, and I love you both. I love Grace like a sister. But you can't stick around just because of history and because you both are comfortable, if that's what it really comes down to. It's not fair for both parties. If you find out that this is the end of your relationship with Grace, then it's the end."

"I'm just torn."

"Look, whatever you do, know that I support you no matter what and I'm always going to be here for you. But please do this right, no matter what that is. You can't have both of them."

"Yeah I know, I hear you." Joon nods.

"You're selfish, you know that?" Joon laughs. "You couldn't even introduce her to your single friends?" Jin smiled.

"Nope. Finders keepers." Joon rose his middle finger. "Just do me a favor and keep your mouth shut until I tell Yoongi and Hoseok myself."

"Sure, whatever. Not my battle anyways." He stood up and stretched. "So, where are we taking your little Jungkookie tonight?"

"The club so he can get some for his birthday."

"What a good older brother." Jin laughed.

"Is Grace in New York already?"

"Yep. I'm probably just going to head home and sleep until then. I don't remember the last time I stayed up this late, let alone the last time I went to a club."

"Yeah go home, and not to Y/N's house."

"Should I?" Jin joked, but Namjoon rolled his eyes. "I'm kidding, don't worry. Everything didn't just go in one ear and out the other."

"Yeah, please reassure me and tell me that I didn't waste time giving you advice."

"Oh my god, hurry up!" Jimin groaned loudly as he laid sloppily on your couch, getting restless while waiting for you, Ryujin and Taehyung to finish getting ready. To be fair, you all had been getting ready and fooling around for 2 hours, while Jimin sat patiently and watched whatever was on TV.

"Shut up, Jimin! I'm going to make sure I look good tonight." Ryujin yelled back.

"For who?"

"The dick I'll be getting."

"Why did I even ask?" Jimin sighed and dug his head into a pillow while you and Ryujin continued to yell and sing along loudly to every song that came through on your bluetooth speakers. "You all look good already, please, what else do you need to do?" He mumbled into the pillow. Don't get him wrong, he loves you all to death. He truly does. But it's just been such a long time since you all have gone out like this. He forgot what it was like.

"You know, she really means me." Taehyung tugged on his collar and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip.

"Okay, honestly. You two should probably fuck already. Get it out of your systems, you know?" You say as you dab lip gloss on your lips before shrugging and rolling your eyes. "Jesus Christ."

"Okay, no. You're supposed to be on my side, and that doesn't help." Ryujin's cheeks flush to a rosy tint as she pulls you aside. You knew damn well she was feeling embarrassed because it was true. She wanted to. Once Ryujin finally dusted herself off and was satisfied with her outfit, you both walked out into the living room to meet Jimin and Taehyung. Their eyes widened as they caught sight of you two, Ryujin in a pink, ruched dress with matching pink heels and you in a matching 2-piece skirt and low cut crop top.

"Oh shit, you both look good as hell." Taehyung says as he gets up and continues to eye both of you up and down. Mostly Ryujin, though. "Shall we head out?"

"Yup!" You say as you come to Jimin's side and lead the way out of your apartment. Jimin decided he'd drive tonight since he didn't feel like drinking too much, but he still wanted to go out and have fun. The crew headed to grab dinner at the Farmhouse Kitchen, which served the best Thai food in town. You all enjoyed some good grub, along with some really strong cocktails. You felt super happy that you all had time to finally do this since it's been a minute. You felt like you could finally let lose and get your mind off of things. The things that your dearest bestfriends don't even know about.

But, stories for other days. Tonight, you felt good and you looked good. You were all that and then some. Maybe tonight was the night you could meet a single, fine ass man to dance up on and act up with.

The cocktails were hitting you and Ryujin the most, already feeling tipsy before heading into the club.

"Wooooo!" Ryujin yelled before laughing out loud. "I'm ready!"

"Okay, yes, same, but please keep it together so we can at least make it inside the club." Jimin pleaded. He led your crew up to security, flashing your IDs one by one and paying for the cover fee before stepping in to the already packed nightclub. You and your friends ended up walking in a straight line, holding each other's hands to navigate through the crowd to the bottom floor. The top floor was the most crowded, being it was the house / EDM floor, while the bottom Hip Hop floor wasn't too jammed packed.

"Shots, my friends?" Taehyung asks as he swings over to the front of the bar. You follow behind him and line up against the bartender, asking for some good ol' Don Julio tequila. It wasn't your fave, but it was definitely Taehyung's go-to, and you can't lie, it got the job done quick for you. You all stick around the bar to take your shots, kicking them back to back [besides Jimin] to really get this night started.

As you waited for the final around, Taehyung is scanning the room and notices a group loudly making their way from down the steps and over to the bar. They were cheering on whoever the birthday boy was. A face in the group had looked familiar, so Taehyung squints his eyes to get a better look, and realizes its no other than Jin with his friends.

"Oh, shit! Look! Mr. Kim's here!" Taehyung laughs and says loudly, pointing towards the other end of the bar.

"Is he really?! Let's go take a shot with him and his friends!" Ryujin squeals as she sees him come into full view. You too, get a glimpse of him as they approach the bar and suddenly, you felt hot and nervous - the alcohol being of no help during this time. He looked good, and he didn't look like the already-handsome-professor you had. His hair was more natural, slightly curly, and almost like he had showered and let it messily air dry. The look was perfect on him. Not gonna lie, you were somewhat happy he was here to see how good you looked and part of you really wanted him to crave you until he couldn't take it anymore. You wanted to drive him crazy, and little did you know that you already were. It was a game you didn't mind playing, especially since you knew you couldn't have him.

You shouldn't.

"Ayeeeee! Mr. Kim!" Taehyung's ass yells with Ryujin cheering in the back. He does nothing but flash that smile of his while chuckling. His friends are all really handsome as well, one especially caught your eye with the way his wavy black hair fell down his eyes as he stood against the bar in black ripped jeans and a button up shirt. He seemed to be the youngest out of the group, but you were just assuming.

"Let's take a shot! On me!" Ryujin yells as she runs over with her loud ass. You follow behind her with Taehyung and Jimin, slightly hiding behind Jimin since you were feeling a little shy and awkward at this encounter. The events of the past days just flashed before your eyes, and you can feel Jin's eyes burning holes through you from your peripherals.

"These are your students?" You overhear as one of them looks behind at Jin and laughs.

"Yup." Is all he says, hands deep into his pockets.

"That's her isn't it?" Namjoon says in his ear, loud enough to make sure its clear over the music blasting. Jin simply looks at him without saying a word before returning his attention back on Jungkook, who he noticed was eyeing you. The look said everything to Namjoon.

"Do you know her?" Jungkook points at you and Jin nods.

"Why?"

"Why? She's gorgeous." His eyes light up, causing Namjoon to slightly choke and laugh behind Jin.

"Go for it." Is all Jin says. He's honestly livid right now, because the thought of someone else being able to get a taste of you while he hasn't fucks him up.

"Ohhh, boy." Namjoon sighs. "I hope you're truly over her or else it's going to get really fucked up, you know that right?"

"Don't worry about it." He says, dismissing him as he takes the shot from Yoongi's hand and immediately downs it.

"Hey." The black-haired cutie that caught your eye pushed his way through the group to come into full view. "I'm Jungkook."

"Y/N." You lightly shake his hand before tucking a strand behind your ear.

"I just wanted to say that you're absolutely gorgeous." He says cutely, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Aw, thank you. That's so sweet."

"I, uh—"

"It's his 23rd birthday today!" One of the guys against the bar yells, grabbing Jungkook's shoulders and playfully massaging it.

"Yeah, it's his birthday Y/N! Give the boy some love!" Ryujin winked from where she was at.

"Happy Birthday." You chuckled as he nods.

"Thanks. Maybeeeee you can bless me with a dance after this shot?" He asked shyly. Boy, was he fucking attractive. You could see his thighs poking through the rips of his jeans, his sharp collarbone poking out from the unbuttoned portion of his shirt and his arm muscles defined even in the dark.

"Yeah, I'd love to." You leaned back against the bar as he stood next to you, waiting for the round of shots to come. "Are these your friends?" He chuckled.

"More like big brothers? That's Yoongi, that's Hoseok and that's Namjoon. They're Jin's friends. Jin is my stepbrother." You swallowed the lump in your throat as you quickly glance at Jin, who's side-eyeing you as he leans against the bar. You have got to be fucking kidding me. God was truly testing you.

"Ohhhh." You respond. "That's sweet of them to take you out."

"I honestly didn't wanna do much, let alone come to the club. It's not really my thing, but I'm glad I did or else I wouldn't have met you." He smiled, his smile being just as perfect as his stepbrother's.

"I'm glad I could make your birthday a good one after all." Ryujin suddenly comes to your side and gives your arm a good squeeze.

"He's a cutie! You better hop on that since Mr.Kim is taken." She says in your ear, pulling you into a hug.

"That's his stepbrother."

"Even better!" She exclaims, making you shake your head. You all gather and take the last round of shots in honor of Jungkook's birthday and shit gets wild, quick. Your group led them to the dance floor, partying together like you had known them since forever. It didn't feel awkward at all knowing it was Jin and group of friends, but it did get awkward when you felt the tension with Jin every time you were near him. He didn't like seeing you dance all up on his stepbrother, getting all handsy and touchy-feely when just the other night, you were straddling his lap, ready to risk it all.

Hell, what was he gonna do though? He couldn't do shit. Not with his people around, especially Namjoon.

You knew this. He didn't have to say anything for you to know he wasn't a fan of it. You'd catch him looking at you throughout the night, his eyes hungry and almost dark. Let's get this straight - there's no bad blood here. You're not mad or bitter [slightly]. You're just having your fun because you're single and can do whatever the fuck you want. You know he wants you, what's wrong with a little tease?

A couple of songs have passed and Ryujin has made her way through Taehyung, Yoongi and Namjoon, and now she was back to doing her own thing on the dance floor. Jimin has had a couple of ladies welcome themselves onto his lap, and he gladly accepted. You loved seeing Jimin have fun and you especially loved when girls swooned at the sight of him because he was deserving of it and he was mighty good looking. He always worked hard and never gave himself a break.

You, on the other hand, had been stuck to the hip with Jungkook and you had brought him deeper into the dance floor, away from the group just to get a little alone time. You had danced up on him majority of the night, his muscular arms always gently bringing you back against his body. You both were feeling some type of way with the alcohol running through your veins, but you weren't complaining one bit. Alcohol or not, Jungkook was fine.

"So, are you going to let me take you out on a date?" Jungkook asks in your ear, causing you to bite onto your bottom lip.

"I'd love to go out on a date with you." You face him, his smile going from ear to ear as he nods and starts taking down your number. To be honest, you could be here all night with him, but you decided you needed a break from all this dancing and from the crowded dance floor. You quickly excuse yourself to the bathroom, suddenly needing to break the seal really badly and freshen up. As you were exiting the bathroom, Jin was also exiting the men's bathroom at the same time. You both locked eyes, with you breaking the contact with a small, toothless smile before walking off.

"Y/N." He says, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him. His body is against the back wall, both of your groups distant and not as visible from where you're standing. He looks down at you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

"Jin."

"You haven't said one word to me all night."

"I'm trying to keep my distance from you, remember?"

"You know that's not necessary." His hand was now on the small of your back, fingers gently caressing your back in small circles.

"It is. You know what you do to me." You say as you look down at his lips. Truthfully.

"And so do you." You can feel his breath against your skin and it sends goosebumps down your entire body. You're trying your hardest right now to not get turned on by this man, let alone throw yourself onto him. "This isn't fair, you know?"

"I gotta get back to everyone." You say, slightly pulling back.

"Just for the record," He gently pulls you back, his other hand lifting your chin. "Jungkook might have you right now, but I know in the end you'll be coming home to me and that's all that matters." He lets go of your wrist and walks away, leaving you slightly dumbfounded at the way he stood his ground like that. Your panties felt soaked, and you wanted nothing more but to ride this man into the next dimension. He was truly testing you, and quite frankly, you could burst any minute now.

"You okay?" Jimin says, lightly squeezing your arm. "You were gone for awhile."

"Yeah, long line." You lied.

"We're thinking about heading out, you good with that?" You nod silently. You look around to see Ryujin flirting with Yoongi and Namjoon, making you shoot him a look. "Not me, all you. Go get her." He shakes his head, chuckling.

"Alright, I need to say bye to Jungkook anyways."

"Oooh, Jungkook." He wiggles his eyebrows. You make your way over to the area that Jin and his friends are occupying, prying Ryujin's drunk ass away. You give Jungkook a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, letting him know you'd be waiting for his text.

Finally, you all headed out of the club and into Jimin's car, Ryujin being the first drop off of the night. Thank God he had decided to drive, because all three of you were still pretty tipsy and in no condition to get behind the wheel.

"Y/N, listen to me. You need to hop on Jungkook because he's fine as fuck!" Ryujin's drunk ass yells in the backseat as Jimin is making his way to her house.

"Ouch, Ry, stop kicking my chair." Jimin whines.

"Y/N, did you hear me?"

"I hear you loud and clear, Ry. Thank you." You laugh.

"And you, Jimin! I hope you grabbed a ton of numbers because there were tons of pretty ladies feeling you tonight and you need a girl!"

"Perfect, thank you for pointing out how single I am." He says, making Taehyung snorts.

"What about me?"

"Shut up, Tae. You don't need shit. Mind your own business." You and Jimin laugh in your seats.

"Also, Mr. Kim was really eyeing the hell out of you tonight, Y/N." She adds, making you sigh silently to yourself.

"Actually, I concur." Jimin chimes in. "He couldn't keep his eyes off of you."

"Mistress Y/N." Taehyung calls out, causing you to turn and pinch him on the leg. If you haven't gotten it by now, Tae loves to tease the fuck out of you by calling you a mistress. It's been his thing since you got all googly-eyed for him. And you hated it. You truly wanted to fight him every single time.

"It was nothing. He was probably just drunk."

"Sure." Jimin responds. "Call it what you want, he was definitely feeling you tonight." The ride goes silent, which, you're happy that none of them are pressing on it. You were not trying to get caught up at this moment.

Ryujin gets dropped off before Jimin makes his way to your apartment, parking in the yellow passenger/loading zone. Taehyung is knocked out in the back seat, while Jimin throws his hazards on and walks you to the front door of the lobby.

"Thanks for driving, Chim." He smiles and pulls you into a hug.

"No prob. Call me if you need me?" You nod. You walk in and get into the elevator, Jimin and his car disappearing in sight. You take a deep breath and sigh because you had been having an internal battle since the moment you stepped out of the club.

You were losing.

You stepped out of the elevator, only to step into your apartment to quickly freshen up and throw on comfier clothes. You find yourself heading back downstairs to meet your Uber. You knew exactly where you were going and you knew exactly what you were doing.

But you didn't give a fuck. You had been dying to get your needs fulfilled and the only person you wanted was a quick 25 minute Uber trip away.

[pseudofaux]

Hi pseu,

I really enjoy your writings, thank you for sharing them with us! For your last sling, if possible, I would like to request a modern-AU drabble with SLBP Shigezane:

- post-COVID (Can’t wait. I’m not sure where you are based, but while lots of others are slowly recovering, we’re still getting wrecked here Europe -.-)

- strangers that see/meet each other for the first time

- she is a grad student in the small town and becomes interested in him but has difficulties keeping eye contact

It would be great, if these bullet points could inspire you to make something with them!

SHIGE! 💕💕💕 You have given me so many good, cozy, perfect tropes in this ask, I’m gonna add coffeehouse (screeeeeeeeee!), and hope hope hope it is to your taste! Also hope you are doing okay. Big socially distant hugs from me to you. 💕 Let’s dive into a world where this is not a THING anymore…

Now that this is done I need to say OH MY GOD I can’t stand how much I love this, I definitely want to write MORE MORE MORE of these two! Thank you so so much, vyperignon! Cut is for length, this is very soft and sweet and omg it might be my favorite thing I’ve ever written brb cryinggggg

(Requests are closed, readers, but I have a lot to fill in July! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

Your aunt made you the scarf. It had been a half graduation, half going-away present, and she gave you several months ago. A scarf given in summer… someone in your family surely knew a bit of predictive kitchen wisdom about that.

“To keep you safe,” she said tearfully when she pressed it, folded and tied with twine, into your hands. And then she’d crushed you into a hug and whispered “Any time you feel lonely, put it on and squeeze yourself. You will never be so far from home our love can’t find you.”

And you’d both burst into tears.

Your family is small and more tightly knit than any scarf. You love them. You miss them. But you have loved being in a new place all on your own, where no one knows you or any member of your family. You have explored the curious little town and made a few friends among the other researchers who are visiting or working at the manuscript library for the term. You have been here three months now, and have another half year to go before your research/work contract is concluded.

And you’re happy. When it begins to get cold, you pull the scarf out of your tiny chest of drawers for the first time. Video chats with your family and all your research have kept your heart plenty full, too full to be lonely. But the yarn really is as soft as love around your throat as you walk to the library.

You didn’t put on gloves, though, so your fellow researchers insist you get something warm to drink on the way home. And wear gloves the next day. You tell them it’s not a long walk, you’re fine... and then Mara, the other woman there on a research assignment (she is younger than you but has the glare of an ancient queen), shoots you a look. You value your life, so you relent. She narrows her eyes at you and you insist you relent. You all go back to work, to the quiet chatter and scratching and typing of your notes on manuscripts and ephemera. You wonder for the hundredth time why this archive is here, in the middle of a pleasant nowhere, but mostly you are glad you found it and were able to get this post.

You haven’t been lonely, but you really haven’t done anything this… socially mundane in awhile. The coffeehouse your coworkers recommended, Omori, is doing slow but steady business and you spend your entire time in the line hoping for someone to come up behind you. You hate being the last person in line, it always makes you feel like you are giving a hard time to the person who has to help you or ring you up (or make your drink). And here you’re not a regular— oh no, you realize, you just saw the lights on and didn’t even check the hours on the door, and it’s ten past six now, what if you’re keeping them?

These things are swirling around in your head (with the possibility of just making a run for it and pretending to have a panicked conversation on your phone as an excuse for leaving) when you are the only person left in line.

“Hi! What’s your name?” asks a smiling baristo, ready to key your order onto a tablet mounted on the counter. This itty bitty town, where the buildings are all still stone and wood, keeps surprising you with sleek technology in unexpected places.

“Lavender latte,” you blurt out. Oh, god.

His smile (already horizon-wide) widens, and he nods at you as if you say it’s okay, try again when you’re ready. No rush. He slides a paper cup off a stack and makes some notation on the side and waits, radiating calm and patience. You don’t think you’ve known anyone so unrelentingly warm since your earliest years of school, when teachers loved their entire classes.

You’re still embarrassed when you correct yourself, but he doesn’t say a single thing about it. He asks for a few details about your drink without asking you to repeat anything you’ve already said. Any milk preference? Earl Grey, right, or did you want coffee? And then takes your card. You know you are safe, and he’s been nothing but kind, but your hand is still a little trembly when you present the plastic.

“Your scarf is nice,” he says softly. Somehow his voice is just loud enough for you to hear every word over the ambient sounds of talking, clinking, and coffeehouse music. You are both leaned a little bit forward, him over the till, you over the counter, and it sends a slow but mighty wave of intimacy over your body, safe underneath your clothes. You need to thank him but you can’t seem to make the word come out.

His nametag flashes when he hands your card back. Shige! :> with the sideways smile and all. When you look up his actual smile is a tilted but perfect curl, and he looks like he wants to say more but you just give him a quick smile of your own (the one for nice strangers), and step away, not wanting to hold anyone up. Just in case they’ve come in behind you while all this has been going on.

“What’s your name?” He calls.

You repeat it, slowly, and add on a soft “I told you,” disappointed that after all that you still didn’t manage to make yourself understood.

He opens his mouth, looks at the cup with consternation that is, okay, when you are honest with yourself, absolutely adorable. “You did! My bad!” He laughs and rubs his arm with his free hand. “Sorry,” he offers. When he ducks his head the curious mousy silver-brown of his hair goes glossy in the spotlight that’s trained on the ordering counter.

And when his face comes back up from his little bow or whatever that was, he’s ever so slightly pink, so you believe his apology. You feel embarrassed at how nice it is to be able to unsettle someone else for a change, and you keep your grin invisible by holding the back of your lip with your teeth. There are plenty of seats open, so you take one near the pickup end of the bar and wait. You scroll a few times on your phone, and send your brother a photo of the view out the coffeehouse windows. You know he’ll show it to your mom. He texts back right away and you get lost in comfy banter. This place smells nice, the chair is cozy, and your scarf really is soft. You feel really happy. Maybe you’ll dare to come here again sometime. You do have a kettle, and a surprisingly fancy stove, and a spacious minifridge where you could keep milk to make your own drinks. But a latte from a coffeehouse is always such a treat.

“Hey,” Shige! :> says softly from a few steps away. “Got your drink. Didn’t want you to miss it.”

He sort of kneels to hand you your drink, and the courtly gesture and the size of his biceps take you by surprise. Even softer, like he’s worried about frightening you, he says “Here ya go,” and only when you have a two handed grip does he pull his own hands away.

His hands match his biceps. Your heart flutters appreciatively, and you don’t meet his eyes, but you don’t manage to keep your grin hidden at all because your smile pulls your lip right out from between your teeth. You wonder what the curve of it looks like, if it’s as nice as his. Even the toothy smile he’s giving you now is charming.

And that’s the first night you’re charmed by Shigezane.

You don’t learn his name is Shigezane (:>) until your third visit to the coffeeshop, though, because when you go back for a second visit the next morning, it’s much busier. Cheery, sweet Nadeshiko~❀ takes your order and compliments your scarf. When you ask for a lavender latte, her warm brown eyes flick up at you discerningly for the quickest of looks, but if it was anything she covers it with the sunniest smile yet and asks what size you want. You order a medium. In the morning rush, you grab your drink when your name is called and get out of there. So it’s not until you’re down the street that you suspect you might have been given a large.

You plan to go back that night, even if just to put a little extra in the tip jar.

A chorus of hummed approval greets you at your desk in the library. You lift your cup for them to see, along with your gloves. Mara gives you the severest thumbs up you’ve ever seen in your life. You return it, unwilling to even think about what would happen to you if you didn’t.

You tell them it’s a nice place and there are a few happy Told you!s from the peanut gallery as you set your drink on the chair beside yours (you’d never risk the documents you work with), take off your coat and scarf and gloves, and sink into the pleasure of your research. This really is a plum gig: you like your work and you have a comfortable cohort of fellow researchers. You’re given plenty of time each day for all your tasks and ample breaks. You just forget to take them, some days.

It’s awhile before you remember to have some of your drink, and the first sip is good: spicy-sweet and deep, but mellowed. It feels just right for what you are doing. But the one from last night was better.

At 6:05 you are reading the chart on Omori’s door that says they are open until 8:00 PM every day. But when you look through the glass, there’s no one waiting at the counter. And there’s no one behind it, either. The only thing that seems worse than being the last person in line is being the first and last person in line, making someone show up just for you. So you step away from the door and sort of… lean from foot to foot, outside the window, trying to figure out what to do. You could just run in, shove a few bills in the tip jar, and go. You don’t actually have to order anything. You don’t. That’s not too weird, is it? You just want to do something nice, but what if it’s too nice, so nice it’s weird?

At 6:07 there’s a cheerful jangle of the bell over the door. Shige sticks his head out, :> and all, and says, “It’s chilly, wanna come in? We’re open! Want a muffin?”

Mortification that he might have seen you acting like a Weeble Wobble is shoved to the side in your brain by a different mortification when your stomach loudly grumbles. He flashes you a smile that makes the rest of you grumble that he’s not your boyfriend, and then you grumble at all of yourself to not be stupid and move your feet to the door.

“I brought lunch today,” you say quietly. Why are you telling him this?! You can’t stop yourself. He’s like a hummingbird feeder and your rapid heart can’t resist the allure of his bright reddy-pink apron. “I just… forgot to eat it.” You think you were probably too quiet for him to hear you.

“Well, that happens,” he says, holding the door all the way open. “You can eat it in here, if you want. What were you working on?”

His attention settles on you as warmly as the soft heat inside the coffeehouse. You give him the elevator speech about your work at the library and your research. It always makes you a little nervous to try and explain what you do, but the walk to the bakery case is the best (sort of) elevator ride you’ve ever had.

He’s still listening thoughtfully when you reach the glass in front of all the treats. It’s sparse but not totally empty. When you do a little nod and say “And that’s pretty much it,” Shige says “I bet it’s not,” and then taps on the glass and adds excitedly, “These are all my Gramps’ recipes.”

Please don’t tap (unless you really have to) says a sign on the case.

He catches you reading it. “I really had to,” he says seriously. You know you can’t handle looking at his eyes for more than a second at a time, but you chance it then and his whole face is so obviously hoping you’ll laugh that a giggle just tumbles out of you. Like the whole world is a safe landing mat for you to cartwheel on.

You can’t look at his eyes again, but his grin is so big you think it must have almost closed his eyes entirely. He slips around the side of the case and uses a pair of shiny copper tongs to pull out three muffins. He puts them carefully on a small tower of plates. Then he freezes. “Are muffins… okay?” he asks. “I just realized I didn’t actually ask.”

You did ask, you think. I just didn’t answer. You wonder if he’s phrased it that way on purpose, to be polite and make you feel un pressured. Or if he forgot. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who would forget, and he seems a lot like the type of person who would tilt his phrasing to favor another person’s comfort.

“Yes,” you say, and you murmur that they look good (because he seems so proud, and because they do). And then your stomach rumbles again.

“My feet are tired,” he blurts out. “Wanna sit?”

You look at his face and immediately move your gaze off the eagerness in his eyes. But you do nod.

Shige uses the tongs to point to the table by the window where you were standing. “That’s the best spot,” he says. “Be right there.”

He says your name very softly, like he’s testing it in his mouth and in your ears. You try to walk to the table instead of running. Or dancing. You tell your hummingbird heart to shut up.

When Shige gets to the table, he has a little tray with the muffins (on two plates) and two glasses of water. And napkins. And straws. And a fork and knife. And several packets of wet naps, the ones with blue and white packaging.

“Prepared,” you say before you can stop yourself. He’s only being very nice. He laughs, and it sounds entirely unoffended.

“Got me,” he says. The tray pops up when he shrugs and he swears under his breath, trying to keep the glasses from spilling.

You have a clumsy, good-hearted brother. You grip the tray handles with him on instinct and slowly pull it down to the table. The glasses wobble less stupidly than you did outside. Nothing spills.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. You wish you could look right at him so he could see you mean it. “See? Fine. Thank you for the water. For everything.”

You let go and sit, but he’s still standing, holding the handles. Is he upset? Embarrassed?

You chance a look at he’s just staring at you, with his mouth open. He doesn’t look embarrassed or upset, he looks awed.

“I have a kid brother,” you say, hoping that is enough to explain. You shrug even though you swear you are not a shrugger.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, finally letting go of the tray. He slowly takes his apron off and folds it over the back of the chair opposite you and then sits. He’s rubbing his hands together like he’s in a daze. Then he seems to snap out of it and go all quick and bright again. “I have a cousin,” he says, plucking up a glass of water and setting it in front of you. He holds up the muffin plate. “He loves these things. Hidden sweet tooth. Have one, please. You can have them all if you want.”

You have one and a half muffins (Gramps’ recipe is good). He eats the rest. You talk about your brother and his cousin and your other family members.

Fall is a fast change here, and it’s dark before you realize it even though you’re right by a window. You don’t… want to leave. You don’t want to check your watch and see how close it is to closing time. You don’t want to keep him, but you don’t want to let him go.

One more thing. Just tell him one more thing, and then head home, you tell yourself.

You tell him you came by that morning and met Nadeshiko, and that she was nice. And that she might have given you a bigger drink than you ordered.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. You can tell when he’s grinning now without even looking at his face. It seems like he grins whenever he’s awake, to be honest. “She told me. Did you like it?”

You still can’t meet his eyes, but you grin, too. “I came back to put more money in the tip jar,” you tell him.

“It’s on the house, doll,” he says softly. “It was on purpose. Don’t worry about that.”

You tell him you’re a worrier, as a joke, and when you realize your words you nearly gasp at yourself. People know it about you once they get to know you, but you don’t… say it. Ever.

“Yeah, well, I worry about you,” he says, sunny tone ushering away all dark clouds. “Gimme just a minute!” He stands up and fetches the tip jar and sets it down in front of you, then turns his back. You pull out a big tip to cover the muffins, too, and clear your throat when you’re done.

He clears his throat and keeps his back turned. You lift the tip jar to put it back in his hands, but he’s clutching half of a pink index card and a sharpie, so there’s no room. He sort of jiggles his hands side to side and you smile and set the tip jar down and take the card and marker from him. When he sighs in obvious relief you do not manage not to giggle.

If you need a latte, or a muffin, I know a guy!

(He likes to do other stuff, too.)

-Shigezane

What you assume is his number is written underneath. It’s definitely not the number for Omori, which you spent plenty of time looking at before he opened the door.

He makes you laugh again when he gropes around for the tip jar and you push it into his hands. “You’re a lifesaver,” he declares, and whisks it away. “I’ll tell Nadeshiko, but she’s definitely going to keep making you larger drinks,” he says over his shoulder. You just squeeze the warm stiffness of the pink card and then tuck it into your wallet where you can’t forget it. He comes back with another half an index card. It’s the other half of the one he gave you, if you’re not mistaken. You notice he doesn’t sit down and you wonder why.

“New program,” he declares, tapping it with a broad fingertip you try not to stare at. “Feedback cards! You can tell us if your drink isn’t right, or draw a picture. Or, y’know. Leave something else. If you want. I’m gonna go start taking down shop but hang out as long as you want, okay? Don’t feel like you have to run off.”

You spend a few minutes at the table, finishing your glass of water and tidying things on the tray and thinking of what kind of feedback you might like to leave, exactly. When you take everything over to the counter, there’s a new, empty fishbowl beside the spot for dishes. A pink index card is taped to it with “FEEDBACK! :>” written on the card in hasty marker.

You put your dishes where they belong on a little cart, and the trash in the bin. And your half an index card in the fishbowl.

“Thanks,” Shige calls from behind the counter, audibly grinning. You grin right back, give him a nod, and turn on your heel to go gather your things and head out.

And that’s the second night you are charmed by Shigezane, and how you give him your number (and he gives you his). You hide your smile in your scarf the whole way home, and the cold air cannot touch you.

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 6

November 21st - Part 3

DeeDee heard both her phone and computer go off at the same time. She sighed, turned away from the computer and picked up the phone. She decided to see what the girls had to say first. 

Phyll: DeeDee. We can just hit the hookah spot tonight. No club.

Bev: Yeah, and you know you love the wings from Hakeem’s place. It’s a win-win for all of us.

“Ooooh, Hakeem’s wings.” Her stomach gurgled at the thought. “Ok, maybe not.”

DeeDee: Sorry ladies. I have a bottle of wine and a very interesting book calling my name. But you two have fun. 

Bev: Fine. Next week, then?

DeeDee: Yes, Bev. Definitely next week, I have no class or work. 

Bev: Great.  

Phyll: Punk. 

DeeDee: Love you both. Night. 

Bev: Night.

Phyll: Yeah.

DeeDee slid the phone on the coffee table and picked up the computer. Now, back to her book. She clicked on Erik’s email and started to read. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Ms. DeeDee, 

There is no need to pout. I promise you that. 

So, you want a career in teaching. You love to see it. I think that is amazing. 

It reminds me of the work I started when I first came to the Center. I used to run an afterschool science program for the local kids. With the same goal as you, I wanted more of us in STEM careers, looking out for us. 

Reading. I wish I had more time to do it. A good book is always a great escape. 

Speaking of which, what are you getting into tonight? 

Mister Erik

“My night? Oh, just in front of my computer. Talking to a man, I didn’t even know existed until a week ago. Just spilling my guts.”

DeeDee never told anyone that her parents met at Southern, but something about Erik made her want to share that with him. Then realization dawned on her. It was another perfect set up for him to talk about his love life and he smoothly dodged it again.

“This damn man.” She rolled her eyes and got up to put the rest of the pizza away. 

“And of course, he used to work with kids.” Like he couldn’t be anymore interesting. DeeDee sighed as her smile returned. She grabbed another bottle from the fridge. It was definitely about to be that kind of night. 

DeeDee came back to the couch and picked up the notebook. She pulled out the neatly folded note, spread it flat and read it for the umpteenth time. 

On paper, he seemed like a dream. Talking to him, even better. There is no way that he was not happily taken by some extremely lucky woman.

DeeDee wondered what it would have been like if she had met him while he was still at Southern. She was on campus back then. A shy and soft-spoken junior who lived in the chemistry labs on campus. And Erik obviously would have been in and out of those same labs, too. 

It’s funny that they never did meet. “I would have remembered crossing paths with him.”

But then again, she didn’t meet Dr. O until he was a Grad Assistant for one of her organic chemistry classes. And she never thought, he would be her mentor when she joined the Ph.D program.  

And then there’s that part. One degree of separation and it just has to be that he is friends with Dr. O. Erik is obviously entertaining her for professional reasons, and not because he could be interested in her romantically.

“Get it together Dee. He is taken.” And yet, somewhere deep inside she kind of hoped that he wasn’t. That maybe he could see her for more than just his friend’s student. 

DeeDee looked back at Erik’s email, quickly wrote her reply and closed the laptop. She popped the cork on the new bottle and started drinking directly from it. With wine in hand, she got up and started swaying to the soothing sounds of Alex Isley and Masego’s ‘Good and Plenty.’ 

--- 

It had only been 15 minutes, but to Erik it felt like forever and he worried that maybe she did have other plans. He ran upstairs to change into some work out clothes and came down when his email chimed. He ran over to read it immediately. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik, 

I am sitting on my couch, enjoying pizza and wine. Although, my bottle is gone. 

Other than that, I have no plans for the night. 

I let my best friends drag me out last night, so indoors it is for me. 

What about you? Any plans for the evening, like with someone special? 

It’s pretty early over there; like 7 in Cali, right? 

Anyways, I should probably let you enjoy the evening. Don’t be a stranger.

Miss DeeDee

“Wait! What?” Erik rapidly typed his response and sent it to her. He dropped down onto his couch. “I really lost my touch and can’t even talk to a woman anymore.”

He only asked because he didn’t want to assume she was gonna be available to chat via email all night. Erik knew he would do it, too. He was fascinated with her. He wanted to hear whatever she was willing to share with him. And yes, that meant even if he eventually had to answer the question. 

Erik went to the kitchen and got two bottles of water. From the living room, grabbed the tablet and headed to his downstairs gym. If DeeDee stopped responding at least he could work off whatever feelings arose. He set everything down besides the punching bag.

---

DeeDee had danced and drank all around her living room. But once she started to spin, the dance party came to an abrupt halt. The wine finally caught up with her and she plopped down on the couch. She slowly leaned over to set the quarter full bottle down on the table and opened the laptop. 

She had a new email. She squinted at the screen. From Erik. 

Her chest started pounding, so she took a few deep breaths and opened it. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Miss DeeDee,

It is a rare night in for me. I usually work on Saturdays, but I have had the whole day to myself. 

I played ball with some kids from the neighborhood this morning. And I cooked earlier this afternoon and was planning to watch a movie before turning in. 

However, I have been having a wonderful conversation and don’t really want it to end. 

Would you care to join me on a video call?

Erik

“WHAT?” DeeDee threw her laptop down on the couch. She stood up and paced the floor, slowly. “He’s gotta be kidding. Right?” She looked at the message on the screen again. 

She sat back down and sent the first thing that came to mind. Was this actually happening? What is going on? Her thoughts were circling around in her head and all through a wine-induced fog. Just her luck. 

“He --” DeeDee giggled, “Oh my god.” She dropped her face into her hands. 

---

Cool, calm and collected, he was not. Erik’s stomach was in knots while he waited for DeeDee’s response, if any. He hit the punching bag a few times in jest before the nervous energy kept him going. He stayed there for 15 minutes before moving to the free weights in the corner. 

As Erik laid back on the bench to start lifting the barbell, he heard the email alert. He slowly sat up. His heart couldn’t race any faster since he had been working out anyway. But it felt like it was gonna just fly out of his chest. He wrung his hands while he sat on the bench. 

He stood up and made his way over to the punching bag where everything was. Erik grabbed a nearby towel and wiped himself off before he picked up the tablet. 

“Now or never.” He unlocked it and opened DeeDee’s email. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Uh Mister Erik, 

I am enjoying our conversation as well. But I am not camera ready. And I am definitely not changing to get ready either. 

Let’s do it some other time. 

DeeDee

Erik released the biggest breath. He didn’t realize that he was holding it as he read her answer. Then he started to chuckle. And that small chuckle grew into a big full body laugh. It even echoed off the walls, but he could not help it. He was relieved by what he read, and knew exactly how to respond to it. 

He grabbed all his stuff and left the gym. He went upstairs to his bedroom. Erik sent the email and dropped his tablet on the bed. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Now DeeDee, 

Did I say anything about being all dressed up for this call? Doesn’t matter if you are in a hoodie and some sweats. 

I just wanted to have the face-to-face interactions while we chat because I can imagine you pouting about a silly question. And I am sure you want to see my reactions to you calling me Mister after I told you not to. 

No pressure, though. You have my email, so use it to connect to me if you want. I’ll be around, you know, since it’s early over here. 

Erik

Taglist: @teakturn​ @ghostfacekill-monger​ @shaekingshitup​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​ @woahitslucyylu​ @ladymac82​ @bugngiz​ @eyeknowmywrites​ @ajspencer1892​ @arafatih​ @issimplyaamazinggg​ @tchallasbabymama​

[enkelimagnus]

History

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2375 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 4 The Whole World is Watching

Bucky and Zemo find themselves talking about Sokovia, about family, and about where they come from.

TW: antisemitism mention

Read on AO3

Part 29 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

"Were there Jews in Sokovia?"

Zemo came back to himself an hour or two ago. He’s resting now, a damp towel on what must be a pounding headache. If Walker had been a supersoldier, Zemo would be dead. The shield, sent flying like that by someone on the serum would have broken his neck with the force of its slamming into his temple.

He wouldn’t be laying there, drinking glass after glass of something probably not recommended for someone with a concussion. He’s dosed himself on painkillers as well. Hopefully, he won’t die before the Dora Milaje arrive. If he died under Bucky’s watch, he doesn’t think he would ever be forgiven.

Bucky’s been staring at the windows for a while now, just… waiting for Zemo to start talking again. He grew bored of it. Even if the windows are beautiful and make him lose time in memories of his childhood shul and on the necklaces they all wore.

"It was an Eastern European country. Of course there were,” Zemo answers in that almost amused matter-of-fact tone of his. The same kind he used when he talked about Marvin Gaye. Now Bucky gets Sam’s “He’s out of line, but he’s right.” His voice is hoarse though, a clear sign of what he’s just gone through. Bucky finds himself slightly satisfied by that crack.

"Where was your family from?" Zemo asks. Perhaps it’s the same sort of question that led to that conversation in the plane. Bucky didn’t need to tell him he was Jewish after that.

"Romania."

Zemo nods quietly. "Ah. Not far, actually. Is that why you found a hiding place there before I flushed you out?"

That’s an interesting question, and Bucky shouldn’t be surprised he’s asking it.

"Not really." He didn’t know his family was Romanian until a couple of months in, until a mother’s lullaby triggered an avalanche of memories. “Followed some memories there.”

“What did they do? Your parents?”

Bucky huffs and turns towards him. “Why do you want to know?” He asks, jutting out his chin. He doesn’t know if he wants to talk to Zemo about that. But Zemo’s the only one who has ever asked. Steve didn’t need to. And no one else has spent long enough with Bucky to wonder.

“I am curious,” Zemo shrugged. “This is not a trick. I have nothing to gain by having this information. Your parents are dead. They cannot be used as leverage.”

“You sure know a lot about leverage, huh Zemo?” His answer is sarcastic, poking. The ghost of the tension from earlier in the day, the one that made Bucky let go of his tight leash of control to break one of Zemo’s expensive cups, hovers between them for a moment.

“I am a criminal,” Zemo hums. “A killer. And a Baron. Of course, I know a lot about leverage, James.”

At least he doesn’t hide from the truth. Bucky guesses that those eight years in solitary gave him time to self-reflect.

They both fall silent for a moment again. Zemo sips his whiskey. Bucky wishes he could get drunk. The minutes tick by. The Dora Milaje could come any time now. It’s hanging in the air with the tension, with the silence.

“You didn’t answer my question, James,” the man’s voice comes from the couch where he’s lounging. “What did they do?”

“My da worked in a journal in Romania. A Yiddishe one,” Bucky explains. “Worked in a printing factory in America. My ma helped sell the papers on the market. When she moved here and had us, she didn’t start working again until everything crashed and da died. I was working, but it wasn’t enough. We were four kids, and there was Steve, and his ma too, until she passed.”

He stops talking. He’s saying too much. Way too much. Zemo doesn’t need to know those things, he shouldn’t be talking about those things. It’s too personal, too intimate. Even Hydra didn’t know. Why is he telling Zemo?

Because Zemo’s going to the Raft. He’s going to be buried there and never come out, and he won’t be able to tell anyone. You could tell him what Steve tasted like, he wouldn’t be able to talk.

“What did your parents do?” Bucky asks, turning the question back on Zemo. It’s not the same, of course not. Bucky’s pretty sure he could find all the information about Heinrich Zemo readily available online.

“My father was a Baron and a businessman,” Zemo replies anyway, evenly. “He was also a sitting member of Hydra’s European branch.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to Zemo. He can’t see him, only the back of his head. Is he smug? Is he happy he got to push one of Bucky’s buttons this way?

“You didn’t meet him, I believe,” Zemo continues. “At least as far as I am aware.”

Bucky doesn’t reply. What is there to say, thanks?

“My mother was a housewife. She was a Baroness. She did charity events, talked to people, was beautiful at my father’s side. That was what they did. As for myself, I was, as you know, in the army. Before my service, however, I studied in Oxford, Philosophy, Politics and Economics, before interning in Berlin for two years. Only then, after much partying and drinking, did I settle and join the ranks.”

Bucky leans against the counter, huffing. “You wanna talk about yourself a bunch today, don’t you?”

“I was going to follow that with a question on your own Curriculum Vitae, James.”

“Why? Wanna hire me?”

Zemo chuckles, a puffy sound immediately followed by a sharp intake of breath. Pain, perhaps. That’ll teach him.

“Humor me?” he asks and for some reason, Bucky shrugs and decides to do so.

“Top student in Washington High School until ‘33, graduated early, started working. Making girls’ dresses. Working on the docs in the evening too,” Bucky recounts, sighing softly. “Got drafted. Deployed in ‘43. The rest you know.”

“No college despite being a so-called top student?” Zemo asks. Bucky can feel the airquotes in his voice.

Bucky huffs loudly. “We didn’t have that kind of money. We could have, without the crash. Could have gotten a scholarship, but it wasn’t… Da passed, and I had to make sure there was food on the table.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sure you’d be able to afford some sort of degree now.”

“Not an option.”

He’s not going to start explaining all the way Hydra fucked him up, how his attention span is shorter than it’s ever been except when a mission is involved, how his brain flips through languages constantly. How he would have issues handling the workload, the students around him. Crowded lecture halls would be terrible for his brain.

He doesn’t know what he wants to do after this.

Maybe just read books and go on runs and eat kugel and drink vodka. Those sound like good things to do.

"I saw Sokovia fall," Bucky says after a moment. "I was in Austria."

Zemo’s curious loose attitude shifts as Bucky says that.

“It made a big cloud,” Bucky keeps going. He doesn’t know why. “I barely had my mind, but I knew what I was seeing was world-ending. Catastrophic. Horrifying.”

“I was in Novi Grad for a chunk of the battle, before the city rose. And then I ordered my unit to run. To save their families if they could.” Zemo’s voice is quiet, tight with horrible grief. It’s been nine years and it’s still intense. Bucky guesses he hasn’t had anyone to talk about it with. It’s strange that it’s with him. “I was on the road to my father’s property when the city fell. Chunks of it fell around me, like terrible lethal snow.”

Bucky understands that. He remembers days on the front line in France, where the bombs falling from the sky almost looked like rain until they hit the ground and exploded and killed. Sometimes, at night, the lights in the sky were painfully beautiful.

“I have German citizenship, because of my mother’s own German citizenship. My father insisted I claim it, so I interned at the Bundestag for a couple of years in my twenties. Perhaps he was a visionary, perhaps he knew that one day Sokovia would come to fall and I wouldn’t be able to be Sokovian anymore. It’s strange.” He hums. “To know I do not have a home anymore.” There’s a pause. “Do you know what that feels like?” Zemo adds after a moment.

Bucky hums. “Borders change, political regimes fall. By all accounts, I’m American, but I spent more time in my life speaking Russian than I did speaking English. And yet, the Soviet Union has been gone for over thirty years. And I only learned that ten years ago. The America I grew up in is gone, too. So… I’m nothing. I’m nowhere.”

“Do you know what the strangest part of all of this is, James?” Zemo asks. “Sokovia is gone. In dust. There are no places I can go that still look the same as they once did. There are no buildings still standing. Their stones will one day be in museums, without context. It’s like it never existed, really. Memories are good, but they only last one lifetime, if that long.”

“In a hundred years, those memories will be gone,” Bucky finishes for him.

Zemo finishes his glass. “I’m the King of Sokovia,” he says then, and Bucky immediately wonders if they shouldn’t try to seek some sort of medical assistance.

“I’m royalty. The last living royal of Sokovia. I’m the King,” he explains. “King of ash, King of a memorial. King of the dead.”

“Yeah, I doubt Wanda Maximoff would accept you as King,” Bucky quips, and Zemo chuckles.

“Ah, the Maximoff girl,” he mutters. “Do you know just how many times her head was in the visor of my rifle?” He asks, and Bucky can hear the smirk, the predator’s grin in his voice. “When I was with EKO Scorpion, watching her and her anarchist friends… Do you know how many times I could have killed her?”

“Why didn’t you? Bucky asks with genuine curiosity.

“She wasn’t dangerous then. She was just a girl, an idealistic teenager. She hadn’t met Hydra yet. I had no reason to end her life.”

He shifts on the couch, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from God knows where on his person. He tosses it over to him. Bucky catches them, and the following lighter. He doesn’t ask why Zemo doesn’t take one. They’re cheap, from a Slavic brand. The tobacco blend is familiar to Bucky. His handlers used to smoke it.

The lighter is familiar too, a Zippo. It clicks and sounds like the hundreds of thousands Bucky has heard in his life.

���The Maximoffs were Sokovian Jews,” Zemo says after Bucky pulls the preliminary drag of his cigarette. White plumes wave over his face for a moment. “Wanda and Pietro wore the marks of their heritage for years on the front lines of their revolution.”

Bucky frowns a little. “I don’t remember it from the images, afterwards.”

“I can only guess they took it off when they joined Hydra,” Zemo points out. Bucky takes a hard long drag and the taste is like a ghost of Soviet pride. “Von Strucker was an antisemite.”

Bucky chuckles at that. Of course he was. “What a surprise,” he mutters sarcastically.

“He was not one of the hidden ones either,” Zemo points out. “He was quite loud about his opinions when he believed himself in the right circles.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about von Strucker’s views, Zemo,” Bucky says quietly.

“He was a Baron of Sokovia too. I saw him several times a year, for official occasions of the royalty, and informal meetings at my family’s estate for most of my life. He and I were not that far apart in age, I must admit we shared toys once upon a time, in palaces like the one Karli and her friends now occupy.”

The world is small, especially the kind of world Hydra, the Soldier and the Avengers lived in. Bucky doesn’t exactly believe that he never met Zemo’s father. He doesn’t know if he would remember it if he had. Unless he was given the man’s name in some way, he probably was nothing but another higher up, another possible handler, another persona had to obey.

“So your government knew Hydra was in Sokovia?” Bucky asks, pulling more on his cigarette, trying to parse out a timeline of events.

“The government was Hydra,” Zemo replies, his voice heavy. “It had been for decades. Truth is, I never knew Sokovia without Hydra encroaching on it like a tumor.”

Bucky shifts, humming quietly. Zemo’s hatred of Hydra is surprising now that he knows his father was. “Why aren’t you Hydra, then? If your family was?”

Zemo shrugs. He has that sharp intake of breath again, probably accompanied by a wince.

“When the main Hydra branch fell, in 2014, I was only 35,” he mutters. “I was getting invited to the parties, of course, as the heir of the Baron, but… I guess I was too green for these people. Contrary to Wolfgang, I didn’t share a lot of their ideals. Perhaps I did, as a youth, believe some of their lies… It is impossible not to take in some of your parents’ philosophy.”

Bucky huffs, shaking his head. “So what? You met a poor Jew once and it changed you?” He asks sarcastically.

Zemo shakes his head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you. I don’t believe it was a singular event.”

He wouldn’t be the first rich kid to find some cause to care about as a rebellion from the parental authority. Bucky doesn’t say anything more about that. It’s not good to dwell on these things. What is going to come from confronting it anyway?

“Either way, let’s both be thankful I am not Hydra, yes?” Zemo shifts, standing back up slightly, to rest in a better direction.

Yeah. Let’s be thankful.

Sam comes in then with his computer and Bucky takes the opportunity to see himself in the bathroom, thinking everything over.

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

HAIKYUU IS BACK AND SO HERE I AM 

listen folks, season 4 has come. my crops are flourishing, my skin is clear, i’ve been revived. i cried and watched the opening 4 times, i’ve watched the episodes 3x now. Kuroo has always owned me and bITCH he still does. 

as usual, i have no shame, so have this professor Kuroo x  grad student reader that turned surprisingly angsty (my heart is so full with s4 that idk how it ended that way). i dont even care how cliche this is, im so weak for stuff like this. also i have no idea if this field is even a thing but i dont care 

warnings: suggestive nsfw, angst 

will there be a part 2? who knows 😉 (spoiler, there is...and three and four)

as usual, 💖 J

~

You weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting what your faculty member that you’d be working with for your graduate career to be like, but it had been more along the lines of: crotchety old man, white hair, still sporting tweed suit jackets from the seventies. It definitely never crossed your mind that a young man, probably around your age, you’d guess a bit older since he was already a faculty member, would greet you on your first day.

You also weren’t expecting him to be fucking drop dead gorgeous—and you mean ovary melting, cliché totally swooning material. Never in your life have you felt so nervous around a person before. It really wasn’t fair in the slightest. And on top of it all, he was amiable. The two of you got along swimmingly, half in part to how close you are in age and the other half since you’re both mad about biotechnology.

You tried. You really did. Tried not to develop a crush on him. But the more you got to know him, the more days spent together, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper because it wasn’t just about looks anymore. You liked him. A lot too. You can’t even explain why. You learned rather quickly he’s no lady killer like he’s looks suggested—oh no. He’s the biggest dork you’ve ever met.  And now you’re head over heels with no hope of going back. It was a rather futile attempt to resist it.

Sitting at your desk, you rub your hands over your face trying to get those thoughts out of your head. Or at least shove them to the far depths of your brain so you can continue to act like everything is fine and not like your heart is going to overwork itself anytime he’s anywhere near you. And god—was that getting increasingly difficult. With your first year ending and presenting your research at the National Biotech Conference coming up, the two of you have been spending more and more late nights in the lab together. Alone.

You might as well dig your grave now.

Just a few nights ago the night ended early because he set off the fire alarm making a hot pocket. The two of you too enamored with the project to notice the microwave on the verge of combusting. Why the hell he put it in there for five minutes was beyond you, but he tried to explain that he was planning on taking it out before the timer ran out. The memory of it makes the corner of your mouth quirk upward.

“You bored out of your mind already?” A voice teases from behind you, making you to jolt in your seat.

Speak of the devil.

You turn in your chair to find none other than the root of your problems: Dr. Kuroo. Jesus fuck you can barely look straight at him without feeling some sort of nerves ball up in your stomach.

Giving him a weak smile, you say, “Those all-nighters are really getting the best of me.”

His eyes soften and christ—you need medical help to deal with the way your heart is stuttering in your chest. By the end of this conversation you’re going to need a defibrillator with the way he smiles at you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Riiiight. About those….” He avoids your gaze and you already know what’s coming.

“Another one tonight?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Sorry about that. We’re just really down to the wire now. I want to make sure everything is set.”

You wave him off, there’s nothing to apologize for. You knew what you were getting into here. And you know it’s only his second conference as a distinguished member of the community, so he has a standard to uphold.

A startled gasp escapes you when his voice appears right next to your goddamn ear, his warm breath against your skin practically sending you into a frenzy. “You working on the statistics?” The nod you give him is almost imperceptible, afraid any movements from you are going to give away how his proximity is making you feel. His eyes scan your screen before patting you on the shoulder. “Looks good so far, send it to me when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding when he moves away.

How the fuck are you going to survive the next year?

Hell—how are you going to survive a week-long convention with him?

As he heads back to his own desk, Kuroo glances warily around the office to make note of any suspicious onlookers. It’s been harder and harder to keep that professional line with you, and every public conversation you shared he was highly aware to not slip into his easy mannerisms he found himself indulging in during all those late nights. Because fuck him—he liked you. Why did he of all the options get assigned the one graduate student who is his age and is fucking gorgeous on top of your academic prowess?

He never stood a chance.

He is barreling straight towards an academic violation at full speed and his brakes are broken. That’s how bad it is.

But goddamn he can keep it in his pants for the sake of his job and your career.

That sentiment went to shit that night.

You’re late, which almost never happens. He can count on one hand the times you’ve been late. And you always texted him with your ETA and an explanation but tonight…silence. He knows you haven’t left, he saw you a little over an hour ago speaking to Dr. Yu, and a quick trip to your desk confirms it; all your stuff is still here.

He’s lucky to catch Dr. Yu on his way out, asking if he knows of your whereabouts. “You haven’t seen her?” His brows lift. “Must’ve gotten caught up in the library. Said she was going to stop by there before your meeting.”

Kuroo does an excellent job of hiding his confusion. Meeting? Is that what you’ve been disguising your all-nighters with him as to your colleagues?

That means you feel there’s a reason to keep it a secret.

Or is he reading too far into it?

Nonetheless, he strides towards the library, irked to find most of the lights off and it utterly silent inside. He checks the table area first, then peruses the shelf, peeking down each to see if you’re actually in here. It’s likely you already left and are now waiting for him in the lab in the time since he’s begun looking for you.

He finds you in one of the farthest corners of the library and it isn’t until he approaches you does he realize the situation he’s just put the two of you in.

Alone.

In the dark library.

You’re sat deep into an armchair, legs curled up underneath you, head resting on your hand while you flip through the pages of a book sitting in your lap. You look so picturesque he can’t help but stare for a few seconds before clearing his throat to alert you to his presence.

He scares the absolute shit out of you.

Leaping out of the chair, the book clattering to the floor, you shout, “Holy fu—Dr. Kuroo! You can’t just do that!” Then you blink, like your brain is catching up to you, then you frantically check your watch and outwardly groan. “I knew I should have set an alarm. Sorry, just lost track of time back here.” Smirking softly, he takes a step forward, bending to pick up the book sprawled on the floor. He hands it to you, your fingertips brushing his, a jolt of lightning spearing through you at the contact.

Every sense of yours is filled with his presence, your head clouded with thoughts of what if you just…closed that gap. What would happen if you took just one step forward? Would he let you run your hands over his chest, snaking around his neck to tangle into his dark hair? What would it feel like to press your body against his?

Holy hell—you need to get out of here.

It’s then that you realize you’ve been staring at him.

And that he’s holding your gaze, his golden eyes locked onto yours. The air is so charged you feel like your entire body is buzzing, urging you to indulge in the thoughts swirling in your head. You open your mouth to break the silence, grasping at any sense of logic you have left to end this dangerously tempting situation.

Kuroo’s last strand of self-control splintered the moment he caught you staring at him so intently. The same thoughts weaving through his head as yours, the fantasy he’s had for months now of holding you against him, his lips pressed to yours, is so tantalizingly close he can barely stand it.

So, he comes to decision. Before this opportunity eludes him, he has to act now. He watches as your mouth opens, your better judgement clearly still intact, and before you can get a word out, he leans down to kiss you. His hands finding their way to your waist, tugging you to him, he’s pleasantly delighted to find you sink into him. Your own hands reaching up to curl into his shirt, soft mouth moving against his own, he almost groans at how you’re reacting to him.

He’s intoxicating, the way his fingers are digging into the skin of your waist, how his tongue slips into your mouth, you can barely keep your feet underneath you. What’s even more exhilarating to you is that he initiated this.

He wanted you too.

The thought makes you a bit dizzy.

When he feels your hands travel from his collar to slip your fingers through his hair, this time he can’t help it, a deep pleased sound escaping him, rumbling through your entire body and sending heat straight to your core. Jesus Christ this man his going to be the absolute death of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands roam from your waist to cup your ass, using the leverage to press you even closer to him, letting you feel just what exactly you’re doing to him. All he can think is that he wants more, he wants you underneath him, chest heaving, moaning his name and no one else’s. With that on his mind, he splays his fingers out underneath your thighs, intending on lifting your legs around him.

The action turns your brain back on, the gears working hard through the haze clouding your mind, realizing where exactly this is going. Your sense of reason finally coming through, screaming: Stop! What the fuck are you doing?! Instinctively, you shove him away from you.

He blinks in surprise as he stumbles back into the bookshelf, thrown off by your sudden rejection.

Your heart crumbles seeing his hurt expression. It’s no use denying it anymore. You want him. So bad that you were this close to throwing all caution to the wind just now. But you can’t, not under the circumstances. He is your colleague. Your superior. What the hell were you thinking?!

Steeling your resolve, you say quietly, “Kuroo…I—That…that shouldn’t have happened.”

You can’t even look at him, too afraid of what will happen if you do.

He knows you’re lying.

He stares at you for a moment, considering all his options. Truly, he’d like to just gather you up in his arms, assuring you everything will be fine, and kissing your worries away until you melt beneath him again. But he knows that’s crossing the line. Instead, he settles on making his feelings clear. He wants you to know where he stands. He doesn’t want you to think what just happened meant nothing to him. But he’s willing to give you space to put your thoughts together.

“I need you to look at me,” he says.

You bite your lip. “I can’t.” Now your throat feels tight with the effort of keeping tears at bay. Why is it like this? Why did you have to meet him in this way? He says your name like a command, so you ball your fists in determination and raise your watery eyes to meet his.

With such surety and resolve it just about makes you burst into tears, he tells you clearly, “I’m so head over heels for you it’s not even funny.”

He’s right, this isn’t funny. It’s anything but. And he’s making it worse by being so goddamn perfect you want to scream. The universe must really be a bitch for putting you through this, making you fall in love with someone who is so off limits. You can feel your heart wilting within your chest as you plead, “I need to leave.”

He lets you go, despite every instinct telling him not to. He spends the night in the lab alone, barely getting anything done through his ever-present thoughts of you. He tries to remain hopeful, that somehow this will all work out. That on Monday you’ll come to work, and everything will be alright.

Monday morning, he finds out you’ve put in a request to join a separate project.

He doesn’t know what to do with the growing hole forming in his chest.

And neither do you.

~

part two part three part four 

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable Ch 15- Help

Warnings: swearing, drugs

Ch 14 | Ch 16

~ ~ ~

Another few weeks of silence. Lydia got a few calls from the team during the first week, but slowly they thinned out and disappeared.

She dropped herself onto the couch after her shift at a nearby coffee shop. It wasn’t the ideal job, but she needed some form of income to pay rent until she was out of school.

Her professor and her were discussing getting her teaching credentials and getting experience as a student teacher before she retired. The plan was to have her prepared by the upcoming spring semester, still 10 months away.

That was it. She was going to be a teacher. It was a fine career path, especially for someone of her age. And she had time to do something else if it truly didn’t suit her.

Lydia’s eyes grew heavy and she was just thinking about leaving her grad school work for another day, when someone knocked on her door.

Huffing, she picked herself up once more and checked the peephole. Gideon was hovering outside.

“Did Garcia give you my address?” Lydia asked bluntly, not even fully opening up the door,

“Yes.” He looked relieved to see her and Lydia wondered for a moment if Hotch had actually told the team she died. “May I come in?”

She rolled her eyes, but swung the door open, walking back to her couch. “Feel free to sit. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Thank you.”

There was a chair beside the couch, which he quickly took advantage of. And then he watched her, closely. He watched her close up her computer, pull her legs underneath her, and wait patiently for him to say something. He watched her for some sort of sign that she was happy, upset, or confused to see him there. But she just looked bored.

“You didn’t tell me that you were leaving,” he began, his voice soft.

Lydia shrugged. “You weren’t my boss. Hotch was.”

“That’s not why I care.” He leaned forward resting his forearms on his knees. “Did you think I was going to try to convince you to stay?”

“Were you?”

“Would you have stayed if I had?”

She looked away, shutting her eyes briefly. “I should hope I know what’s better for me than you do.”

“People love things that aren’t good for them,” he argued. “No one at the BAU enjoys their job. There’s… something else about it that keeps us there.”

“There’s nothing to keep me there anymore. Enough said.”

He paused again, watching her posture. It had tightened, but still she gave up nothing.

“You’re such a good actress. If I didn’t know you so well, I wouldn’t be able to tell that you were scared.”

“Scared?” she demanded, biting back a chuckle. Normally Jason frightened her with how well he did his job. But saying she was scared? No way.

“Of course.” His responses were so nonchalant, that she couldn’t bring herself to argue until she knew what had him so convinced. “Hotch told me that something happened between you and Reid. I’m sorry. I know you two were close. But I also know that the only time you back away from something is when you know you aren’t emotionally ready for it. Not because you’re afraid of anyone else, but because you are scared of yourself. You think you’re a naturally violent person, Lydia. When you and Reid had a fight, you thought you might go too far and someone would get hurt.”

“Amazing job,” she said sarcastically. “Stellar profile. Except that if I was going to quit anyway, why hold back?”

“There’s something more to it. You're not worried about those consequences. There must be other consequences. Does he have something on you?”

Did he? He knew more about her than anyone on the team. Was she actually afraid of anything she told him?

“Sure. He has my trust and I don’t have his. I thought I did, but he made it abundantly clear that I mean nothing to him. So yes... sure… I left because Reid made me feel unwelcome. And yes, I’m afraid that if I become too involved in the team again, he might threaten me or ruin my relationship with the other agents. But maybe, in the end, I quit because I realized that there might be better things out there. Better people.”

“Reid cares about you so much. You probably are the person he trusts the most on the team… That’s why I need your help.”

Help? Was he joking?

Lydia laughed though she was in no way amused by the prospect. “With him? Why? Is he being an asshole to you, too? Maybe everyone on the team should consider leaving him to his own devices. You did say once that if we compared our skills to Reid, he’d run the team on his own. Why not let him?”

“Lydia, Reid’s not an asshole. He’s a genuinely good person. But he’s acting out emotionally because he feels abandoned by the team. Tell me that you can’t understand that.”

Shit. He was right about that. That sounded just like her when her father got arrested. Lashing out, driving others away, demanding justice. Maybe she was the asshole here… But there was no way she could bring herself to admit that.

“I’m not seeking out someone who’s only going to hurt me. Maybe he does need help. But I’m not his mother. I have my own life to lead.”

He sighed, audibly. Knowing him, it was probably all part of his act. Gideon taught her well to manipulate suspects. “I just came here because I thought… I wanted you to understand him a bit better.”

“Well, thanks.” Lydia stood up from her couch, headed towards the door to not-so-subtly tell him to leave. “Now I can know that he hates my guts and feel like an asshole for not being the first person to try and make up. Goodbye, Gideon.”

When he got up, he just stared at her for a moment, not wanting to leave on such a bad note. “Please… please talk to me soon, okay?”

Not wanting to look like he’d caused her to feel as conflicted as she did, she rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah… Sure I’ll do that,” before walking him out.

~ ~ ~

“-and Beck claims she’s close to committing a murder.”

“She used to find it endearing,” Lydia replied, laughing with Sonia. “Lydie and Becky. She thought the rhyming was cute.”

“That’s because they always said it together. Now they run around the house yelling ‘Becky! Becky!’ and she screams ‘Don’t call me that!’”

Lydia could hear her sister complaining from across the country. She never liked being called Becky until the twins came along. To everyone else it was Beck or Rebecca. That was how Lydia and Sonia knew she liked them. She put up with it for them.

And then, they turned eight.

“She insists they’re doing it on purpose. She says she can just tell by their tone of voice that they’re mocking her.”

“To be honest, who’s to say they’re not?”

Sonia chuckled. “Yeah, they’re kind of a lot. Why did I agree to take in twins?”

“Because you’re a good person,” Lydia said.

It was true. The foster care system wasn’t kind to siblings. Especially older siblings, who struggled to get adopted. Sonia took in her and Rebecca knowing that they would be separated otherwise. And then, she was told about the twins, two toddlers, and her heart just couldn’t let them lose one another.

There was a soft knocking at Lydia’s door. She figured it was Gideon again, here to check up on her, so she decided to say her goodbyes.

“Make sure they know that their gifts are on the way! Sorry I fell so far behind!”

“Take care of yourself, honey. They aren’t even worried about the gifts they were so excited to get to talk to you on the phone.”

“Miss you all loads!”

As she put her phone down, there was another knock, this time, somehow, even more timid.

Standing, she peaked out the peephole and almost shrieked in surprise, throwing the door open before she could think better of it.

“Spencer…?” Lydia did a quick sweep of the hallway for anyone else. “Can I help you?”

His head was hung low, occasionally glancing up at her before dropping it again. “Yeah, I… May I come in?”

That’s what set off the alarms in her mind. His voice was a hoarse mirror of it’s usual self and the fact that he wouldn’t look at her made her think he’d been crying. Whatever caused him to show up here, it wasn’t about their relationship. This was about him.

He needed someone. And although, after everything, she wasn’t sure why he’d come here, she stepped out of the way and let him in.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

She saw him shuffle over to the couch, then made over to her kitchen to get him some water. She didn’t know what was wrong with him. She doubted he’d be so inclined to tell her. But obviously he’d been through a lot and she knew the basics of how to handle someone in this state: water, blanket, patience, distraction.

He didn’t speak as she handed the glass to him. His mouth moved as if to thank her, but if he did, it wasn’t audible. He was frightened, it seemed.

Maybe something had happened on a case. Someone had gotten hurt. Maybe it was just nightmares from the kidnapping over a month ago. She didn’t even consider the thing he might be scared of was her. Speaking to her.

“Spencer, if you need me to talk you off some ledge, I’ll do it,” she started. “I’ll stand there and hold you up before you step away from the drop willingly. But I’m not sure what to say.”

His eyes were wet. Not full tears yet, but it terrified Lydia to know what he wanted to tell her.

“I’m- I’m not… Lydia, I’ve done-“ He fumbled desperately for the right way to say this to Lydia, but came up empty. There was no way to say this. Frustrated, he reached for his sleeve and ripped it up at high as it would go.

Lydia felt sick as she recognized what was afflicting him. There were red needle markings and bruises inside his elbow.

“Oh my god, Spencer. What is it?”

“You know that I wouldn’t have-“

“No! God no, Spencer! You don’t have to defend yourself!” she cried. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’m here to help you, not judge you. But you have to tell me what it is.”

Her fingers ghosted over the abused skin. He wanted more than anything for there to be another reason he was here. With her. He wished he’d had some other excuse to come see her. For her to hold him.

But he’s gotten himself into this whole fucking mess and there wasn’t another reason. He was here because he needed help and she was only agreeing because that’s the kind of person she was.

“Dilaudid.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. Fuck. “Okay. And Spencer? Are you here to get help or because you need to get it off your chest? I’m glad you told me, I really am, but if you aren’t planning to stop, I think you should find comfort elsewhere.”

It felt so harsh that she regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. But it was true. If Spencer wasn’t committed to getting clean, he wouldn’t be able to. And she wasn’t going to waste her energy on someone who wasn’t trying to be better.

“I need help. I thought I could figure this out by myself, but I… I don’t know anymore. I lose my will and I feel helpless and I thought you might… I thought you might understand. I know that’s horrible to assume, but with your family history I thought-”

“You aren’t assuming anything, Spencer,” she informed him. “You’re right. I know a lot about addiction and drugs and your brain chemistry right now. So, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I will help you, no questions asked. I won’t tell anyone unless absolutely necessary. And you don’t need to apologize or explain yourself. But if I feel you stop caring about getting clean or if I find out you’re using me for sympathy, that all goes away. I can’t help someone without… determination.”

He grabbed her hand suddenly. “I promise I’m determined. So determined. Please… Please fix me.”

Her heart tore to shreds. He was begging. Desperate. He truly felt alone.

But at least she was sure he’d get through this.

“You’re going to stay here for the next few days, at least,” she ordered. “The nights are going to be the most difficult right after going sober. If you can call in sick with Hotch, do that. Because the next few days are going to be hell if you don’t have any time to yourself.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll, uh… I’ll tell Hotch that I can’t come in for the next few days.”

“Good.” She sighed. “Once you’re sober, we can work through how to deal with the cravings. But for now, I want you to keep track of your symptoms and let me know what’s going on so I can help. Even if it’s just a hot flash in the middle of the night, I want you to tell me immediately.”

“Lydia, I…”

She paused her rambling, waiting for him to tell her she was overwhelming him. She felt overwhelmed herself, but then again, this was not how she expected her night to go.

“...thank you.”

Her heart missed a beat, but she pulled herself back onto track, rolling her eyes. “What did you think? I was going to send you away because you were mean to me? We aren’t children, Reid. I’m willing to-”

“I was on it then, too,” he whispered. “The dilaudid. Tobias gave it to me to help me deal with the torture. That’s why I got mad at you… It wasn’t because I thought you had abandoned me. Or because I thought you didn’t care. I was just… I knew I was messed up. That I wasn’t going to get over this. And I wanted to keep it away from you. I know that it doesn’t work like that, but I wanted you to know now that none of that anger stemmed from something you had done. It was on me. All me.”

“It wasn’t… totally your fault.” Lydia started to categorize her thoughts. What had really happened that night?

She had felt guilty for leaving him and going back to California. She was terrified after hearing he’d been taken hostage by a dangerous unsub. And the stress of leaving Sonia, if only for a few days, had her stomach in knots.

And from Spencer’s perspective, he was overcome by guilt. He’d felt indebted to Tobias, who went against his father (or the version of his father that he inhabited)’s wishes in order to save his life. And in return, Spencer had to kill him. Throw into the mix an intense craving for heroin and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for calm debate.

“I’m so sorry that I was insensitive to your feelings,” Lydia apologized. “At the time I wasn’t prepared to hear what you had to say and I reacted harshly… We’re too stubborn, you and I.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, more than said. “Either way, I can’t believe what I said to you. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness or help. I just… I couldn’t tell the team and you were the only other person I trusted with this stuff.”

“You’re already forgiven, Spencer. Don’t worry. I know what these… things do to people. I’ve said worse to my sister and my father and my foster mom. Believe me, you get a pass for this one.”

She smiled at him and he hesitantly returned it.

“So… I think we should start by having you grab some stuff from your place, because I wasn’t kidding. While we get you sober, I want you to stay here.”

“Okay… Yeah, let’s do that.”

“And you’re going to call Hotch?’

“Yeah. I’ll tell him I’ve got the flu.”

The trip was quick and before she knew it, Lydia was back in her own apartment. Her and Spencer spent the rest of the evening talking about the cases he worked while she was gone and what she was up to in California. Lydia was glad they could fall back into being comfortable with one another. Friendly, even.

She still avoided her conversation with her father, not sure how to bring up his imprisonment to Spencer, especially now that Spencer had his own problems.

It was growing later, the two of them having drifted off into their own minds on the couch.

“You were too good for me, Lydia,” he said out of the blue. “I couldn’t stand not feeling worthy of you anymore.”

“‘We accept the love we think we deserve,’” she quoted.

“That was profound,” he muttered.

“It’s Stephen Chbosky,” she explained. “The Perks of Being a Wallflower.”

“I don’t know it.”

She gasped loudly. “You don’t know The Perks of Being a Wallflower? But Reid, it’s a classic!” She held up a hand quickly. “-And I don’t want to argue about the definition of ‘classic’ right now. Just trust me, it’s good… I think I brought my copy with me.”

Lydia got up, wandering into her room to look for the small novel. It sat in the middle of a stack of books on her bedside table. Smiling, she slipped it out, flipping through the pages fondly.

A thought struck her and she walked back to the door of her room to speak with him again.

“Get in the bed.”

Spencer blinked up at her, looking shocked. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I’m going to read you to sleep, doctor. Get into bed.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, his cheeks tinted pink. “I was going to sleep on the couch…”

“Have you seen your legs?” she demanded. “You wouldn’t fit on the couch with your knees touching your chin. Just sleep in my bed and stop whining. You asked for my help and now you can’t escape me.”

“Clearly,” he replied, but there was amusement in his eyes.

He grabbed his things and went to get changed into something more comfortable for sleep. Then, he slowly crawled underneath the covers beside her.

At first, he sat up against the headboard with her, but Lydia shook her head. “You aren’t going to sleep like that.”

“This feels wrong, Lydia. We aren’t dating.”

“Do you think I’m going to take advantage of you,” she joked. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the couch, but you are sleeping here, and that’s final. Now then, lay down.”

He did as she asked, sliding down so that he was fully horizontal. “I won’t be able to sleep,” he complained. “When I’m listening to something I give it all of my focus. I’ve never been able to sleep when my mom read to me.”

“Alright. We’ll read a little bit. A few pages, that’s all. And then we can both try to get some sleep. Will you finally stop your whining so I can begin?”

He looked a little startled by her insistence, but finally nodded for her to continue.

“‘August 25, 1991,’” she read. “‘Dear friend, I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don’t try and figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and I really don’t want you to do that…’”

~ ~ ~

The first two days were the hardest. Spencer didn’t get any sleep the first night, shaking and sweating fitfully. It had just hit the afternoon the next day when the nausea started. He stayed in the bathroom for most of the day. Lydia wrapped a blanket around him and brought him cold glasses of water and warm tea to help relax him.

At one point, she found him crying from the stomach cramps, his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

But after another day, his withdrawal symptoms had peaked and the rest was just cravings and an underlying uncomfortable feeling. Every night, she read him a few of the letters in The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

He didn’t understand it. Not really. The main character, Charlie, contradicted himself a lot and danced around explaining hard topics, but Spencer still listened to her intently. She read it the same way she talked about her family. Her eyes glazed over slightly, her voice hesitant, fitting for the character.

After the first two days, he had to go back into work. Lydia sent him with a ton of painkillers to get him through the day without his brain exploding. And once he was done for the day, he’d end up right back at her door.

“Now that you’re sober,” Lydia had told him, “the biggest challenge will be the cravings. It’s really common for people to relapse. If you feel like relapsing, no matter the place or time, I want you to call me. And even if you do relapse, don’t be afraid to tell me. I’m here to help, remember?”

And she was. She was helping so much.

...and he was starting to reach a point where he wished she wasn’t.

He missed her. He missed her like hell. He missed walking around the park with her. He missed her ordering ice cream for them so that he didn’t have to interact with the cashiers. He missed the way she tousled his hair after kissing him. He even missed working with her.

“I didn’t just leave for you,” she had tried to assure him. “When I went back home, I realized that working for the FBI caused me to miss a lot. I didn’t mind at the time, missing a Christmas or birthday with them. But they deserve more from me.”

“I wish you would come back,” he admitted.

She just laughed. “You told me to pursue this opportunity to become a professor. It’s a good job. I’m excited for it.”

Every moment he was with her, he missed her more.

Asking her out now wasn’t fair to her. She might feel compelled to agree because of the fragile state he was in.

After coming back from his first case since getting sober, he went to stay with her again, excusing it as the stress of the job making him want company just in case. But he was simply in denial about the fact that he still loved her.

Or perhaps denial wasn’t the right word.

Lydia was reading to him that evening, the two of them almost done with the novel, when she realized how tired he was. She wanted to finish up on some grad school work before she went to sleep, so she told him to get some rest and started to go when he called her back.

“Yes?”

“I just… I love you, Lydia,” he mumbled sleepily.

Her whole body froze, her stomach tightening uncomfortably. “Spencer?”

He smiled, his eyes still shut. “Yeah?”

Maybe she’d misheard him? He was far too tired to be thinking sensibly. She shook her head and started to leave, but he peeked an eye open.

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” he asked.

Fuck… was he actually on something? He was acting drunk, but she didn’t think so. He hadn’t been acting weird when he got there so he’d probably just gotten… really, really tired.

“Say what?”

“That you love me? Don’t you… love me?”

It was actually sort of pathetic to hear from him in his distant state. But something possessed her to respond honestly.

“Spencer, I love you so much,” she told him, walking over to where he lay and kneeling beside him. “But you aren’t thinking straight and I don’t want you to say something you regret.”

He shook his head childishly. “I could never regret telling you how I feel unless you don’t love me back.”

Lydia gave him her softest smile and kissed him on the forehead. “We can talk about your feelings tomorrow, all right? Go to bed.”

He hadn’t meant to do it. His exhaustion had won over his common sense. And there was no way to take it back.

But did she mean it?

~ ~ ~

Lydia smiled, hearing Spencer leave the bedroom the next morning. She’d been anxious all night about having this conversation with him, but now that the time was there, a part of her felt relieved to be able to put it all out on the table.

“Do you ever feel like we got together too fast?” she inquired, not looking at him, instead relaxing on the couch.

She could hear him clear his throat awkwardly, probably far more afraid to speak with her than she was.

“No…?” he responded, shyly. “We’d known each other for almost a year when I asked you out. I’ve known people to get married in less time.”

“Not what I meant… Also, can we really call what you did ‘asking me out’?”

“I was the one to ask if you wanted food,” he argued.

“Yeah, and when I asked if it was a date, you got all awkward and said no. I think I asked you, more than you asked me.”

“That’s not fair!” he cried, walking around the couch to face her. “All you did was insist that it was a date!”

She laughed, seeing him all flustered. “Alright, alright. I call it a team effort. How about you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

“Anyways, I don’t mean that we didn’t know each other long enough. I just… were we ready? You spent the whole time fretting about me being in the field and I was so worried about keeping your secret that I didn’t tell my family-- who live in California-- about you! A healthy relationship isn’t built on fear and that’s all we made ours. Fear.”

“I didn’t mean to make you scared,” he worried. “I just couldn’t stand the whole… the whole conversation. The whole ‘we’re dating: Here’s a look into our personal lives’ thing.”

“I respect that!” she said, quickly. “I didn’t need the team to know. But after we broke up, all I could think about was how much wanting to make you happy affected me. I know better now. If you weren’t happy around me being myself, it wouldn’t be a good relationship. Haven’t you learned anything?”

“Don’t yell at your girlfriend?” he tried. “Don’t tell me that worrying about you was wrong, because I’m always going to worry. It’s who I am.”

“I guess my point is, if we were together, would you let me keep working in the field? Would you be comfortable with that? Because when we got together, I thought that was part of the deal. I wouldn’t expect you to risk or stop yourself from doing your job for me and I expected the same. And yet, every time I got back from something dangerous, you would act as if I was being stupid and I should never do it again-”

“No! No, no.” He began repeating himself, his fingers tugging at his hair by the roots. “I never wanted you to- It’s just that this job is… I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

She smiled at him, standing up to meet him at… well almost at eye level.

“That’s all I want, Spencer. I want us to be happy. Not afraid of our relationship. I want to be me and not worry about how to make you happy, because you already are. I mean, I’m so happy with you. You just being you.”

“Does this mean… you’re serious? You actually want to get back together?”

“Unless you have a compelling reason not to,” she teased.

Lydia was so distracted by the look of excitement in his eyes, she barely even noticed him getting closer until his lips were pressed against hers.

“Woah,” she mumbled, barely pulling away an inch. “Right to it, then?”

“I’ve wanted to do that for two months,” he admitted. “I really missed you.”

She gave him another peck. “I missed you, too, dumbass.”

~ ~ ~

Tags: @kris-stuff​, @wooya1224, @spencerelds​, @anotherr-fine-mess​

[florenceandthemachine]

okay but jackson falling for single dad stiles (◕‿◕✿)

SO (and I feel like I’m going to be saying this a lot) HERES THE THING.

@jacksonstilinskis, as you can assume, the first time they meet is a fucking disaster.

It’s a disaster because Stiles moved to New York for his bachelor degree, partially in an attempt to chase the highest scholarship he was awarded and partially in an attempt to get the fuck out of Beacon Hills, the place that killed his mother, his father, and his best friend — and the place that left him with a squirming three month old less than a year after he graduates high school, a gift from the recently departed. 

He gets a major in Criminology and a minors in Mythological Studies, rocks the single father gig, and manages to teach Claudia (Scotts idea, Stiles had cried when he found out) what is okay to bite and what is not okay to bite, but getting into grad school is a whole other animal. 

It’s a disaster because Stiles decides to forgo taking out a mortgage in student loans and tries to save up for his masters program by joining up with the NYPD. They have amazing benefits, amazing child support, and a legal team that could kick anyones ass.

It’s a disaster because six years later, when Stiles and Jackson first meet, Stiles is in uniform (a uniform he looks damn good in, Jackson begrudgingly acknowledges) and Jackson’s Porsche just hit about 87 miles per hour in a 55.

The best part is (well, the best part if you ask Stiles — the worst part if you ask Jackson) is that Jackson has been pulled over hundreds of times before, and he always — always — gets out of it with a smile and a laugh and an apology, and Stiles could not give less of a fuck. Jackson breaks out all the tricks. The smile, the pout, the puppy eyes. He actually thinks it works for a second — Stiles is smiling back at him, and Jackson isn’t above tilting his head to get a better look at the way the uniform hugs him, but then Stiles is asking for his registration and insurance and Jackson’s smile falls into a scowl.

Finally, he brings out the big guns — he casually gestures to his scrubs, mentions he’s on his way to a surgery, because being top of his class at Harvard Medical had to count for something — and he really was in a rush, officer, he had to get to the patient right away. 

Stiles has the audacity to roll his eyes and laugh as he hands Jackson his ticket, and Jackson has to pretend that the sound didn’t make a shiver dance over his skin. “Well, I certainly hope you take more time and care with your patient then you do on your commute. Have a better day.”

The cruiser follows him all the way to the hospital, and Jackson feels a moment of petty anger before he realizes that the 23rd Precinct is basically right across Park Avenue from Mount Sinai Hospital. If he looks out the window of his office, he can see a steady stream of police cars going in and out of the underground garage. 

Huh. 

—

Jackson allowed himself a full week to whine to everyone who would listen about his ticket after he plea bargained it down, but then even he got tired of sulking —

(“I am not sulking, Laura.”

“It was over a month ago. You are absolutely sulking, you baby.”)

— sulking over who he had only thought of as Officer Asshole. Who the fuck gives a speeding ticket to a doctor, a doctor that was on his way to surgery?

Not that Jackson had actually been on his way to surgery. He was never in a rush to surgery, because he was never late to surgery, because he barely left the hospital on his days off, let alone a day he had a surgery scheduled. 

Either way, that was months ago, and even Jackson couldn’t hold a grudge that long. He was in rotation today — Mount Sinai may have been one of the best hospitals in the nation, but it was first and foremost a children's hospital, and being in rotation — and seeing the people that they were helping, the kids they were helping, really helped bring that home to everyone. 

He grabbed the next clipboard off of a stack and pushed open the door to the waiting room, taking count of all the parents and kids waiting for everything from a bruised knee (helecoptor parents) to any number of fakers (midterm season was rough on everyone).

“Claudia and Stiles... Stilinski?”

What the hell was a Stiles?

Jackson only had half a moment to think about it before a dark head popped up, a child that couldn’t have been more than six in his arms, and Jackson almost felt resentful when he realized that he was staring at Officer Asshole again. And Officer Asshole had a kid, who looked absolutely miserable, and Officer Asshole looked miserable in proxy to his kid, and Jackson really needed to start thinking of him as a “Stiles” before he accidentally called him officer Asshole out loud. 

Jackson guided them back to an exam room full of stuffed toys and bright colors on the wall, letting Stiles take his time setting Claudia down on the bench before sitting right beside her. He introduced himself and smiled down to Claudia — who had a low fever and was squirming uncomfortably, rubbing her little hands against her flushed cheeks, and Jackson would never think that was not cute. Even a sick kid was a cute kid, and though this kid was sick...

“...it’s nothing to be worried about. Kids get sick all the time, and it sucks, but it happens.” Jackson said, using his full soothing doctor voice on Stiles, who looked at the same time utterly relieved and totally embarrassed. 

He confirmed as much as he stood up, taking a prescription from Jackson for some children's medicine to help bring Claudia’s fever down, shaking his head slowly. “Sorry. It was probably overkill to bring her to a hospital, but I’m still pretty new to this parenting thing. I just... I don’t know, I have a tendency to assume the worst, after... well. I just do.”

Jackson almost laughs again, shaking his head. “Don’t ever apologize for advocating for your kid. It’s the best thing you can do, next to pulling over innocent doctors who definitely aren't speeding.” He reaches out to shake Stiles hand, dazzling smile on his face, and Stiles’ blooms into recognition. 

“You’re the doctor! The doctor I pulled over. Sorry, I forget names and faces, but I could never forget that smile.” Stiles said, a grin on his own face, shaking Jackson’s hand for a few seconds before his eyes widened in horror, yanking his hand back. “Oh god. That sounded so creepy, I’m so sorry, she’s kept me up for three days straight. I didn’t mean it in a weird way. I just—uh, I have to go. Thank you again! Please don’t think I'm some freak in a uniform!” he says, almost tripping over a nurse as he backs out of the room. 

Jackson is grinning even wider, a real smile splitting his face, and he can’t help but call after him. “The coffee cart on 102nd is great for long nights. Favorite for all on call doctors and most of the boys in blue.”

Stiles smiles weakly and gives a thumbs up, disappearing down the stairway. 

Officer Asshole — Stilinski, he reminded himself — wasn’t just hot, he was actually kind of cute. He was a cute dad. 

Jackson was kind of fucked.

—

Jackson is sitting on a bench on 102nd Avenue, looking up at the dark night sky, when a danish lands in his lap. Jackson just looks at it for a minute — he’s just finishing up a thirty hour shift, and he’s only vaguely sure what’s real anymore — before he looks up, staring dumbly at the cup of coffee extended to him. 

“It’s uh, a peace offering. And an apology? I mean, I’m not sorry for writing you a ticket. You were speeding. But I am sorry for calling you Doctor Dickbag for like a week afterward. But that medicine you gave me had Claudia back to her giggly self in no time, so I think you’re even. With yourself.”

It’s Stilinski, and judging by his pressed uniform, styled hair, and bright (if not nervous) smile, he’s just getting on shift while Jackson is mentally checking out of his own. 

As soon as he puts two and two together, Jackson gratefully takes the cup and takes a too long swig of what tastes like frothy sugar milk, almost gagging as he looks at Stiles like he had been poisoned. “What the hell is this, a hot milkshake? Oh god, I should have known you were the type who drinks hot sugar, not coffee.”

Stiles has the audacity to laugh as he sits beside Jackson, and the two of them fall into easy, if shallow, conversation. They talk about work, and themselves, and soon Stiles is checking his watch with an apology, because his shift starts at 4 and he has to get into the precinct. 

Jackson watches as he stands up and puts on his fancy police hat, and later, he’ll blame it on sleep deprivation, but he calls out after Stiles’ retreating form. 

“So, coffee and a danish, maybe breakfast next time? I’ll buy.”

Stiles stops and turns, looking Jackson over, and he grins as he nods his head, even if his cheeks are pink. “It’s a date.” He winks and turns back around, and Jackson actually feels goosebumps on the back of his neck.

Oh, Jackson was fucked. He flops back on the bench and smiles to himself, before frowning, whirling around to yell at Stiles’ retreating backside. 

“Wait, what the fuck do you mean you were calling me Doctor Dickbag?!”

—

They manage to have several coffee / breakfast / here’s a meal dates, and Jackson is almost proud of their timing—Stiles kisses Jackson on date number two, a quick peck that leaves Jackson’s world on it’s edge as he grins at Stiles blushing backside as he speaks rapid fire into his radio, now buzzing with life. It’s cute on their first date, but gets old by their fourth date, they manage to kiss for almost twenty seconds in the ambulance bay at Mount Sinai before Jackson’s pager goes off. He groans and pulls away, glaring at the device as though it personally offended him, and Stiles laughs as he brings Jackson’s hands up to kiss Jackson’s knuckles. 

“Go, go save lives. But, uh, if you were free on Thursday, I was thinking... maybe we could have our next date at my place? I’ve already got Mrs. Bobrowski on speed dial to babysit.” Stiles says, his tone confident even if he’s chewing his lip nervously. It’s a trick question — Stiles is off, and Stiles knows that Jackson is off, and Stiles already secured a babysitter, and Jackson can feel Stiles eyes dipping back from his lips to the low V of his scrub top, and Jackson wastes no time before agreeing wholeheartedly. 

“It’s a date.” he murmurs against Stiles lips, squeezing his ass through the uniform, and Stiles squeaks in appreciation as he swats Jackson toward the hospital doors. 

Thursday rolls around and Jackson puts on a tight pair of jeans, a button down shirt with far too many buttons undone to be decent, and adds just a drop of cologne to his pulse point. He looks good. He feels good. He buys flowers, for fucks sake, which means that of course when he knocks on Stiles door, Stiles is wearing a ratty tee shirt and sweats and has a pained look on his face. 

“Jackson, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bobrowski cancelled on me and I couldn’t get another sitter and I wanted to call you and tell you but I left my phone at the station and—”

Stiles looks miserable, and that’s all Jackson needs to know he’s telling the truth, that he truly is sorry, and that he’s going to tell Jackson “another time”, like having a kid involved would ruin a dinner date. Jackson takes a split second before shutting Stiles up with a kiss, brushing past him with a grand flourish as he says Claudia in the living room, bending down to give her first choice on Stiles flowers.

Stiles just stands in the doorway, stunned, looking as Jackson goes to the kitchen, Claudia skipping along happily behind him, excitedly waving her new purple flower in the air. 

“Jackson, you don’t have to—”

“Stilinski, you have three seconds to shut up and tell me where to find a vase, and then tell me how I can help you with dinner.” Jackson says expectantly, and Stiles feels something warm curl around his chest.

—

They have dinosaur nuggets and carrots and peas for dinner, and Jackson loves it. 

They watch a Disney movie and Jackson holds Stiles hand on the couch, and he loves it.

Stiles puts Claudia to bed and then turns to Jackson with such a hungry look in his eye, he can hardly blink before Stiles has him pulled into his bedroom, and fuck, Jackson loves it. 

They barely get each other naked before they tumble into bed, and Stiles is rubbing against him so deliciously, and Jackson mouthes at his neck and bites at his pulse, and he would almost be ashamed of how quickly he comes, his body warm against Stiles, thrusting against his hips, but Stiles is right behind him, and they’re warm and sticky and have a mess on their abdomens. 

Jackson just looks at Stiles in surprise, and they both stare a moment before they’re both laughing, desperately trying to stifle the sound so they don’t wake Claudia. Jackson wipes them clean with something on the floor (”that's my shirt, you ass!” Stiles basically squawks) and then they both lay there in bed, listening to the sounds of the city from the window, and Stiles starts to talk. 

He tells them about his best friend Scott and his wife Allison that married right out of high school, and Allison who got pregnant before her first day at UCLA. He tells them about how after Claudia was born, they made Stiles the godparent, and then left Claudia in his care while they went on a much-delayed honeymoon to the coast, and then he tells them about how a little gas leak in the hotel robbed him of his two best friends and robbed Claudia of her parents. 

He goes through it quickly — “what happened then sucks, but there’s no sense in wishing it was different” — but it brings him to his next point, lying with his head on Jackson’s chest, fingers tracing the lines across his stomach. 

“Usually, guys run like hell when I say daughter. I’m a 26 year old cop with a 6 year old kid, and something about that is terrifying. Not that I think you’re going to be terrified, but—”

“Stiles, if this is the part of the show where you tell me that you and Claudia are a package deal, can it. I know. I’m not mad about it. Hell, I’ve already fooled you into thinking I’m more than just a dickwad, I’m not backing out now, I’ve put too much work into this.” Jackson snarks, and Stiles looks at him for a minute like he was crazy before he reads into Jackson’s facial expression, and his smile softens again. 

“You’re still a dickwad. Doctor Dickwad.” Stiles says, playfully squeezing Jackson’s side. “But I guess I can keep you around as long as Claudia finds you useful.” he says with a dreamy sign, nosing along Jackson’s jawline once more.

Jackson just grins and turns to kiss him, taking a moment to realize—

he was so, so fucked.

[talltree-writes]

We’re Going on a Trip

Fandom: PJO and MCU

Summary: The annual school trip has rolled around and the teachers have been keeping it oddly quiet. When they finally announce it, Peter’s heart sinks— just once, could he have a normal field trip? Coupled with the stress of having Percy Jackson, a relatively recent addition to the Avengers, on the trip, Peter is dreading Friday. 

Genre: fluff, irondad and spiderson, avengers fam, someone give Percy a break

Pairing: Percabeth is there 

Warnings: Cursing, Character typical injuries, Nightmares

Author’s Note: I keep forgetting this account exists, so I forgot to cross-post from my Ao3. Anyway, I’ve had this done for months, but haven’t been fully happy with it. It’s part of a series of one shots that I’m apparently only updating once a year... oops. Anyway, here’s this

“Class, as you know, the science department takes one field trip together every year. This year, I am excited to announce, Mrs. Pruta’s marine biology class, Mr. Looves Physics class, and our Chemistry class will be the first group to tour the newly reinstated Stark Tower this Friday. Now, Stark Tower was intended to close around this time last year, but Mr. Stark…” Peter tuned out whatever Mr. Gray was saying. 

Stark Industries? Really? The big annual field trip that he looked forward to every year was to the building he spent most of his time in anyway? He’d been on that tour already, given to him by the head intern herself once his Stark Internship turned from a cover story to fact. 

****

After Peter was shot, the Baby Monitor Protocol automatically called Mr. Stark, who demanded that Peter come straight to the tower to get patched up.

Unable to use the medbay that was still under construction, Colonel Rhodes set up his makeshift OR in Mr. Stark’s lab. With no anesthetic, as they did not have any of the stuff that could knock out a super soldier or enhanced human, Peter allowed his eyes to wander as Rhodey pulled the bullet from his leg and stitched him up. His eyes caught on an unsolved problem scribbled on a chalkboard.

Once Rhodey had finished patching him up, Peter hopped off of the table and limped over to the  chalkboard. He scanned his eyes over it, looking for the issue, for why it was unsolvable to the smartest man Peter knew. Finally, his eyes caught on it. “Hey, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid?” Mr. Stark came to stand behind Peter. 

“You forgot to balance the chemicals. Just redo it from there and your answer should be… this.” Peter picked up a piece of chalk and finished the problem after doing the calculation in his head, writing the answer on the bottom. 

Mr. Stark double-checked his work, marking his own calculations to the side. When he came up with the same answer, he turned to stare, astounded, at Peter. “Kid, that was a graduate-level problem, and you just solved it.” 

Peter shrugged, “You just needed a fresh set of eyes. Besides, I’ve studied ahead. How else could I have created my web fluid?” 

“Yo-wha- studied ahead?” He sputtered. 

Peter shrugged again, as if he hadn’t just admitted to knowing graduate level science and math at a high school age. “I was bored, so I read ahead and looked stuff up. When I finished our book, I moved on to the next, and then the next, and suddenly I found myself reading research essays and then I guess I could do this stuff. I didn’t know it was that advanced…” He blushed at the end. 

Mr. Stark stared at him again for a minute before speaking. “How’d you like to help me in the lab sometimes? Let’s say once or twice a week for now, and then we’ll see where it goes.” 

Eyes round as saucers, Peter met Mr. Stark’s gaze “Work in your lab… with you?” A pause as it sunk in. “Yes! Mr. Stark, yes! I’d love to!” 

“Great! You start Monday. You’ll be getting your first paycheck from Stark Industries in no time!” Mr. Stark clapped Peter on the shoulder.

If possible, Peter’s eyes got bigger. “P-paycheck? You’re going to pay me for working here?” 

Mr. Stark chuckled. “Of course, Underoos! Stark Industries doesn’t have unpaid interns anymore. I recently realized that minimum wage isn’t even a viable income, so why should I expect my hard-working interns to live off even less. I need them to be focusing on their work, and if they don’t know where their next meal is coming from, they can’t do that. You’ll be a fully realized intern, with higher access, of course, so you’ll receive the same treatment. Of course, school must come first, or else your Aunt will kill me. But I expect that will be no problem.” 

“Th-thank you, Mr. Stark! Thank you so much!” 

Mr. Stark smiled fondly at Peter and said, “It’s no problem, kid, now go on home before your aunt gets worried.” 

Peter nodded and headed towards the window, pulling his mask down as he did so. He opened the window and waved as he jumped out, nearly giving his mentor a heart attack, as that move always does. 

As soon as he knew Peter was out of earshot, Mr. Stark said, “Hey, FRIDAY? Remind me to tell Pepper we’re paying all of our interns now.” 

When Rhodey just stared at him, Tony shrugged. “The kid and his aunt can barely make ends meet, but they won’t let me help them. If I can give the kid a little extra change and gain an employee, I should do it. I mean, it’s not like it’s going to put a huge dent in my wallet, anyway.” 

****

“Get these permission slips signed and returned to me by the time we load the bus on Friday.” Mr. Gray shouted as the bell rang and all the students filed out of the classroom. 

Ned caught up with Peter after grabbing a permission slip. “Woah, dude! This is awesome! We’re going to Stark Towers! Well I guess it’s not as awesome for you, since you work there and all.” 

Before Peter could remind his best friend that he worked there as well, Flash cut in. “Ha! How lame do you have to be to lie to your own best friend, Penis?” He jeered as he passed. “We all know you don’t actually have a job at Stark Industries. They don’t even accept applications until you’re a grad student, and even then, only, like, seven get it. No way that you, Penis Parker, have a job with Stark Industries!” 

 Peter glowered at Flash but didn’t deign to answer. Ned on the other hand, shot back “He’s not lying, Flash! And he’ll prove it to you on the tour! Peter knows Tony Stark personally!” 

Turning away, Flash scoffed, “Yeah, right. You’re fooling yourself if you think he’s not lying to you. We’ll all see on Friday how much of a liar he is.” 

As Flash walked away, Peter and  Ned turned back to their lockers. “God, I hate that guy. I can’t wait for you to show him he’s wrong. Hey! Do you think you can get Mr. Stark to show up? That’ll really give him a kick in the ass!” 

Peter shot a look at his friend. “No! You don’t understand, I can’t let Mr. Stark know I’m going to be there. He’s going to embarrass me! It’s one thing for people to know I’m an intern, it’s another thing for people to know Tony Stark is basically my father.”

Ned’s demeanor shifted. “Oh, yeah.” He perked up again. “At least you’ll have Percy! Mr. Gray said his class is in our group.” 

Upon hearing this, Peter slammed his head into his now-closed locker. “Shit. Percy. At least I have an internship. How are we going to explain him and his clearance? He’s not been released to the public as an Avenger yet. This is going to be an absolute disaster.” 

“Hey, maybe it won’t be that bad. It’s not like there’s any guarantee that all of the Avengers will be there.”

Peter brightened up. “Yeah, why would any of them be there? They don’t live there. And it’s not like Mr. Stark knows about the field trip. Why would he? He’s got a billion dollar company to watch Pepper run. And he’s an Avenger. He’s super busy, like, all the time, and he never knows what’s going on in his building.” Maybe this field trip wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

***

  The day of the field trip arrived and Peter was up well before his alarm went off. “Aunt May? Is there any way I can not go on this field trip?” He called from his bed. 

“Peter, this is the biggest field trip of the year, and you always look forward to it. Don’t let the minor possibility that Tony Stark will be there ruin your day.” She said as she stood in his doorway. “Besides, you’ve missed too many days while Spider-manning to miss another.” 

Having risen into a seated position, Peter collapsed onto his pillows with a groan. “But May, Mr. Stark is going to embarrass me!” 

May chuckled. “Tony probably won’t even be there. You know how many meetings he has. He’s a busy man. He most likely doesn’t even know about the tour today.” 

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m just nervous. I’m scared about my identity getting let out of the bag, not to mention Percy’s. God, if Percy’s gets out we’re going to have serious problems.” 

Walking back into the kitchen, Aunt May called over her shoulder. “None of that is going to happen!” 

Peter groaned again, but got up and started getting dressed for school. He brushed his teeth, and tried to brush his hair, before looking at the clock and realizing he was going to be late if he didn’t leave now. 

He grabbed a Poptart from his aunt’s waiting hands, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and was out the door a second later, calling back “Love you, Aunt May!” 

Despite everything, Peter was kind of excited about the field trip. Sure, embarrassment was inevitable, but he was about to see a bunch of floors of the tower he never saw when he was working there. Plus, the look on Flash’s face when he realized the internship was real would be priceless. 

He made it to the school just in time to see the kids start loading the buses. Peter jogged forward and moved into the back of the line he saw Mr. Gray marking roll for. Just as he was about to board the bus, Mr. Gray pulled him aside. 

“Peter, you and I need to talk for a second.” He said. 

Confused, Peter went along. “Mr. Gray if this is about being tardy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, honestly.”

Mr. Gray shook his head. “No, Peter, this is about the rumors you’ve been spreading around about you being an intern at Stark Industries. Now, we’re very lucky that we got this opportunity, but I don’t want you, or Mr. Thompson, to embarrass us with talks of this internship. And if the talk continues, I’m going to have to have a conversation with the principal about it.” 

Near tears, Peter couldn’t muster any words to counter his teacher’s disbelief. So he just nodded and got on the bus. 

***

Meanwhile, at the Jackson-Blofis residence, Percy sat snoring through his alarm clock, Annabeth curled beside him. Annabeth, who was visiting both camp and her boyfriend while on break, had started the night alone on the bed, but when a nightmare woke Percy up, she allowed him to crawl off the floor and into the bed. 

“Percy… Percy… Percy!”  He startled awake to the sound of both his alarm and his mother saying his name. “Percy, it’s almost time for you to go. Remember you have your field trip today.” 

Percy shut his eyes and breathed “Shit.” 

“Language!” His mom bopped his head and left him to get ready. 

Through everything, Annabeth slept on. Suddenly, Percy had a brilliant idea. “Wisegirl?” He gently shook his girlfriend. “How would you like to tour Stark Towers with me today?” 

Her eyes blinked open. “Will Pepper Potts and/or Tony Stark be there?” She mumbled, sleep still heavy in her voice.

“Probably. I can introduce you if you’d like.” Percy smiled at the girl next to him. His Wisegirl. 

She glanced at his smile curiously, more awake now. “You’re very smiley for this early in the morning.” 

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have a girl like you”

She smiled back and a light pink dusted her cheeks, as if Percy didn’t say something like it every time they saw each other. “You sap. Now, c’mon, if we don’t leave soon, you’ll miss the bus and I’ll miss the train. 

“The train?” Percy said curiously. 

Sitting up, Annabeth tied her hair back. “Yes, the train. You didn’t think I’d be able to just join your field trip did you?” 

Percy pouted. “I thought maybe you could use your Yankees cap and sit on the bus with me.” 

“And what if someone else needs to sit next to you? I can’t just stand or perch or something.”

A devious smile crossed Percy’s face. “You could always sit in my lap.” 

A sharp intake of breath, a shove, and a thud later, and Percy was back on the floor, Annabeth laughing above him. “So I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then?” He asked. 

“I’ll see you at Stark Towers. After I take the subway there.” She stepped over him and grabbed her clothes. “Get up, Seaweed Brain, before we’re late.” 

Just then, Sally popped her head in the door. “Percy, what are you doing on the floor? You need to leave in 10 minutes!” 

Percy just groaned, but got up and started to get dressed. 

****

When Percy got to the school, he barely made it in time to catch the bus. His teacher shot him a sour look, but let him on nonetheless. He found a seat next to someone he didn’t know, and took out his phone to text Ned and Peter. 

From: Sea dude

To: Man in Chair, Geeker Parker

What’s the plan, gents

From: Geeker Parker

To: Sea dude, Man in Chair

Hope and pray we get out of this unnoticed. No chance your dad can help? 

From: Sea dude

To: Geeker Parker, Man in Chair

No… That’s not really how that works…

From: Geeker Parker

To: Sea dude, Man in Chair

:/

From: Man in Chair

To: Geeker Parker, Sea dude 

How does that work, anyway?

Before Percy could answer, he felt the eyes of someone on him, and looked up to see his teacher giving him another stink eye. He swiftly put his phone away. The ride was almost over anyway, so he just relaxed and focused on seeing his girlfriend again soon. 

Upon arrival, it took the teachers several attempts to calm the students down. Finally, when they did, they went over last minute rules. “Turn your phones off and be attentive, we’re very lucky to have this opportunity, and you’re a representative of the school. Please be on your best behavior, but don’t forget to have fun and enjoy the experience!” Mr. Loove said. 

It took forever to get everyone off the bus, as people kept stopping to stare at the top of the building. Percy didn’t know why, they saw it from their school every day, but he guessed one of the tallest buildings in New York was quite the sight up close. 

Inside, Percy caught Annabeth’s eye as she talked to the receptionist, trying to get a visitor’s pass. She shot him a smile before returning to her conversation. Percy turned his attention to Peter and Ned as they came over. 

“Dude, isn’t that Annabeth?” Ned asked as soon as he was close enough. 

Percy smiled. “Yeah, that’s her. She’s in town for a few days and I thought I’d invite her. I’m going to help her get her guest pass really quick, ‘scuse me, boys.”

He slid past the two towards the desk. Slapping an easy grin on his face, he approached the receptionist who was currently fighting with Annabeth. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you aren’t registered for a tour today, so I canno- Oh! Hi, Percy!” She smiled and blushed. 

“Hey, Erin. I see you’ve met Annabeth, my girlfriend. I was hoping I could get here first so I could request a pass for her, but she beat me to it. Do you think you could-“ 

Before he could finish, he was interrupted, once again, by Mrs. Pruta. “Percy Jackson, please stop flirting with these two fine young ladies and return to the group so we can check in.” 

“Oh, you mean this lovely young lady, here? Annabeth, this is my marine science teacher, Mrs. Pruta. Mrs. Pruta, this is my girlfriend, Annabeth Chase. She’ll be joining us on our tour today.”  Percy grinned. 

Flaring her nostrils, as she always does when she gets mad, Mrs. Pruta said “I’m afraid we only have enough badges for the class and she hasn’t registered in order to get one.” 

Erin piped into the conversation “Oh, that’s quite alright. Percy’s clearance is permission enough to give her a badge. She’s fine to join you.” 

“P-Percy’s what?” She spluttered, but quickly recovered. “We will discuss this later, young man. Now return to the group.” She stiffly stuck one arm out in the direction of the congregated students. 

As soon as they got to Peter and Ned, they burst out laughing. “Did you see her face? I thought she’d seen a ghost!” Percy said. 

“‘P-Percy’s what?’” Annabeth mocked. Normally, Annabeth respected teachers, but this one put a thorn in her side. 

Annabeth’s face suddenly sobered up as she glanced down at her phone. “What’s wrong, Wisegirl?” Percy stopped laughing. 

“I just got a text from a certain messenger friend of ours with a specific message to give you.” She pulled out her phone and showed it to him. 

Mist falling today. Time to tell the world everything.- H

“Fuck.” He muttered. “I had definitely planned on having a few more months without people knowing.”  

Ned and Peter craned their necks to see the message, but Percy handed Annabeth’s phone back to her. “What’s up?” Peter asked, concerned for his friend. 

“The Mist is going to fall much sooner than we anticipated, and as usual, the gods have no explanation for us.” Percy explained. “I’ve got to get an emergency press conference together by the end of the school day.” 

Peter grimaced. He had never experienced the stress of a press conference, and hoped he didn’t have to. Ever. “Just tell FRIDAY after we go through security. She’ll notify Dad and set it all up.” 

Percy nodded silently. Then, they both came to the same conclusion at the same time. “FRIDAY is about to let the cat out of the bag, isn’t she?” He groaned. 

Solemnly nodding his head, he patted Percy’s shoulder. They were screwed. 

Resigned to their fate, the boys looked to the approaching figures. And groaned.

****

‘Crap.’ Peter thought, as he recognized the two women coming towards them. Lacy and… Shuri. He’s in for it now. 

“Welcome, students!” Lacy shouted to get their attention. “My name is Lacy Ames, and I will be your tour guide for the day. If you will turn your attention to me, I have a few announcements, some rules, and then some guest badges to hand out.” The group quieted, especially when they noticed the intern’s companion. 

Lacy continued. “First of all, Princess Shuri of Wakanda will be joining you on your tour today. Any words, Princess?” 

Catching Peter’s eye, Shuri smiled wide. “I just heard there was a tour, and I was bored. So I thought I’d tag along and learn a little bit more about where I’m staying for the next few weeks.” She subtly winked at Peter. 

‘Hell yeah two weeks of lab time with Shuri!” Peter thought. He and Shuri had met at an otherwise boring meeting and bonded over their love of science. After her show of force in the battle for Wakanda, she had been established as a Junior Avenger.  

Peter briefly thought he would escape the embarrassment of seeing his best friend in front of his classmates, but he was mistaken. Once Shuri had caught his attention, she called out to him. “Hey Peter?”

He sighed, but answered. He knew what was coming. “Yes, Shuri?” 

“Toss me my keys!” 

Peter, without a printer in sight, chose the next best thing. He threw his backpack at the Princess of Wakanda. 

“I said my keys.” She said, deadpan as the backpack flew past her. 

“I thought you said printer.” Peter shrugged. 

“Why the fuck would I say printer?” She disregarded the teachers’ looks. 

The two came together in the middle of the space and did an intricate handshake that involved feet, hands, and hips. They had developed it when they were bored after they had both been kicked out of an Avengers meeting because they were ‘only Junior Avengers’. As they concluded their handshake, they burst into giggles together,  until Lacy cleared her throat and shot a pointed glance at the shocked class behind them. She, who had retrieved Peter’s backpack, handed the bag back to him and gestured for them both to rejoin the group. 

With the class still sitting in stunned silence, it was easy for Lacy to regain their attention. “Now, for some rules. No touching, no yelling, no pushing, always wear these badges I’m about to give you in a visible spot, or you will be escorted from the premises, and, biggest of all, no bullying.” Peter shot a glance to Flash, or, well, the back of Flash’s head, since he was front and center and Peter was in the back again, doing his best to hide. 

“Now, as I call your name, please come forward and get the badge I hand you. Cindy Moon.” Cindy went forward and grabbed the white badge. “Eugene Thompson” 

“It’s Flash, actually.” He said, and winked at the Princess. Shuri looked like she might puke. 

On and on the list went until there were no more badges. Mr. Gray, who had been checking off his sheet as the list went on, spoke up. “Um, ma’am, I’m afraid a few of the students didn’t get one. Mr. Parker, Mr. Leeds and Mr. Jackson seemed to be missing badges.” 

With a bright grin on her face, Lacy said “Oh, they can just use their own. Happy, our head of security,  has a thing about not giving one person two badges at the same time. Boys, do you have your badges?”  

They all pulled them out, Peter and Percy’s a shimmering gold, Ned’s a bright red, much different from any of the guest badges, and even the badge hanging from Lacy’s lapel. 

Flash, upon seeing the difference, threw his hand into the air. “Miss, why are theirs different?” 

“Good question, Eugene. It has to do with the ranking system. We have five levels here at Stark Towers, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon. Alpha is the lowest ranking, and Epsilon is the highest. You all have Alpha clearance, which is clearance for guests and the press. Beta is for interns on the lower levels. These are usually our graduate interns, Gamma is for our R&D department and marketing, Delta is for our top scientists, who often get to work with Doctor Banner plus accounting and department heads, and Epsilon is for the Starks, their close friends or family, and the Avengers. Now, if you’ll follow me, I need you all to scan your badges here. Please make sure to remove anything from your pockets and put them in this bucket.” 

Peter, Percy, Ned and Annabeth filed to the back of the line. Lacy went first. “Lacy Green, Gamma clearance.” Everyone except the three boys, Shuri, and Lacy jumped. 

“Oh, don’t mind FRIDAY, she does that with everyone. She’s the building’s AI. She is the eyes and ears here and will detect anything that happens.” Lacy explained. 

Each time someone went through the scanner, FRIDAY announced their name and clearance, and each time, it spooked them. Peter wanted to laugh, but then he remembered how he reacted when he first spoke to FRIDAY. He was like a child on Christmas morning every time she spoke. 

Finally, it was their turn. When Peter went through the scanner, FRIDAY’s voice suddenly had a familiar Irish lilt. “Peter Parker, Epsilon clearance. Welcome back, Petey, I will alert Boss to your arrival.” 

Resigned to Mr. Stark finding out anyway, Peter calmly replied “Thank you, Fri. Will you remind him that I am here on a school trip, though?” 

“Yes, Petey. Mr. Stark said to have fun.” 

As he tried to ignore the stares of his classmates, Peter heard Friday say “Percy Jackson, Epsilon clearance. Welcome back, Mr. Jackson. I assume you’re on this field trip as well?” 

“Yeah, FRIDAY. Quick question, where are Tony and Pepper?” 

FRIDAY responded immediately. “Miss Potts is in a meeting until 1 and Mr. Stark is in his lab. Should I alert them to your presence?”

“Please. Could you also organize an emergency press conference for 3:45 this afternoon?”

“Yes.” A second of silence. “Boss has asked for an explanation.” She informed him.

Percy thought for a second. He wanted to remain under the radar, even if this information was coming out later that afternoon. “Tell him everything is going public today.” When she didn’t respond again, Percy assumed he got the message. 

Peter was thankful that most of the attention was off of him as everyone shifted to the bigger mystery. 

Percy looked around at the crowd of teenagers and smirked. “What, never seen someone talk to an AI before?” He confidently crossed to stand beside Annabeth, one arm around her waist, the other stuffed in his pocket. Peter was pretty sure only he and Annabeth knew how anxious Percy really was. He did well to cover up, but his smile was just too tense, his posture just too alert, he was nervous. 

Lacy smiled brighter and raised her voice slightly to grab everyone’s attention. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll begin our tour in the Avengers’ museum. 

As they walked forward, Shuri dropped back to walk with Peter. “I take it Percy is the new addition I’ve been hearing so much about.” She said quietly.

“Yeah, that’s him. His girlfriend, Annabeth, probably isn’t far behind, honestly. I’ve met her a few times and she’s brilliant, not to mention awesome at fighting. She reminds me of you, actually.” 

The princess studied the back of the blonde’s head. “I think she and I could learn a lot from each other.”

At Peter’s look of surprise, she laughed. “I’m not a man, you ass. I know that even with all of Wakanda’s advancements, technology, and knowledge, there are still things I don’t know. Annabeth and I have different backgrounds, so we’d obviously be familiar with different areas.” 

“So… you know about… them?” Peter hesitated to say anything incriminating around his classmates. 

She chuckled again. “Yes Peter, I know about ‘them’” she mocked. “I’m here to develop a new suit for Percy. He can’t battle evil forces in the world without some sort of protection.”

Peter nodded. The two fell into companionable silence as they listened to Lacy’s speech, following behind the students and occasionally whispering dumb comments or jokes until they stopped in front of an open doorway. “-and here we have our first stop, the Avengers museum. You will have 45 minutes to explore. Just remember the rules and we shouldn’t have a problem.” Lacy stepped aside to allow the students forward into the exhibit. 

The duo followed Peter’s friends as they wandered through the exhibit, the three young Avengers having already seen most of it. They stopped at each one so Annabeth, MJ, and Ned could get the information. “How long exactly are you in town?” 

“My brother plans to leave in two weeks, but I think I will stay longer. I will be finished with the gear Tony commissioned in little time, but I want to work with Percy and Annabeth on developing more weaponry, perhaps incorporating Vibranium. I have brought all of the materials I need and I suppose I can work with your rudimentary technology for a little while.” Shuri shot him a mirthful glance.  

Before he could respond, Ned called him over to see one of the new exhibit. “Dude, come over here! They’ve got a Spider-man exhibit!” 

Peter rushed over with a giggling Shuri close behind. What he found made his jaw drop. Behind a glass case stood two mannequins; one wearing a replica of his current suit, the other clad in his old pajama suit. To the side were facts about Spider-man and a small screen showing him in the middle of a fight. “Woah…” 

“Dude, does this mean Spider-man is officially an Avenger?” Ned asked. 

Peter kind of shook his head. “I guess. I wonder if Mr. Stark was ever going to tell me.” He trailed off in thought. 

“Once you had graduated and were ready to publicly become an Avenger is what he said when he told the rest of us.” Came a voice from behind them. 

The five jumped and turned around, coming face to face with a casually dressed Wanda. Peter’s face paled. “W-wanda, what are you doing here? I thought everyone was at the compound.” 

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “They were, and then Stark told them about your field trip and they all came back into the city to pop in. Even Steve was on board after he found out what that Eugene kid had been doing to you.”

Eyes shutting, Peter groaned. “I’m done for. This is it, I’m going to die.” Okay, maybe he was being a tad dramatic, but can you blame him? 

“I’m sorry, Peter, but I thought I’d give you a heads up. Stark is definitely making an appearance at some point, and it’s going to be big.” 

Before Peter could say anything, maybe a prayer to one of the many gods, Flash rushed over to get a glimpse of the Spider-man display, not noticing the civilian-clothes-clad superhero. He shoved Peter and Ned out of the way. “Out of my way Penis. You too, Dead. I need a picture with the Spider-man suit.” 

Peter shot Wanda a glance, and caught the tell-tale red cloud of her magic in her eye. He subtly shook his head at her. She didn’t need an assault, or, gods forbid, a murder charge on her hands. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “I’m pretty sure bullying is not allowed in any building Stark Industries owns.” 

Flash turned, a haughty sneer already slipping onto his face, until he realized who spoke. Expression melting away, he gulped and started to back away. “Y-yes ma’am.” He scampered off before anything else happened. 

She sighed and looked back at the group. “I should probably go. But good luck today, you’ll need it. Especially after that little scene: Friday has orders to send any alarming footage straight to Tony.” 

At Peter’s swear, she gave him one last sympathetic look and ruffled his hair before turning to weave her way back through the exhibit to the private elevator. 

Running his hand through his hair, Peter turned to Percy, “Well… we’re fucked.” 

Percy laughed. “No, man, you’re fucked. They aren’t targeting me-- I’m not the one who lied about a bully. The only thing I have to deal with is a press conference at the end of the day and maybe some weird looks.” 

Annabeth snorted. “Only thing? Seaweed Brain, you don’t explain the whole gods thing well to new demigods, how are you going to explain it to the entire world?” 

“It’s a good thing I’ve got you here then, Wise Girl.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her into his side. “What better way to introduce the world to demigods than by introducing them to the children of prophecy.”

”You ass, you didn’t even ask.” She playfully shoved him. He widened his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip. She rolled her eyes. “But I guess I’ll help you.” He pulled her back into his side and kissed her head.

Suddenly, the class heard from the end of the room “It’s time to move to our next section, so if you would please all follow me.” Lacy led the group towards the public elevator. “We’re going to have to split into a few different groups. So I’ll go with the first group. Princess? Would you and Peter mind going with the second? And Percy could go with the third?”

Peter nodded, uncertain, his Spidey-Sense already tingling. He traded a glance with Percy; Lacy was definitely in on Mr. Stark’s plan.

The first group filed into the elevator, while the other two waited patiently. As soon as the doors closed, Peter heard a heavy scurrying in the vent, undetectable to anyone else. He shot Percy another look, this time glancing up to warn him of what was to come. 

Just as the vent opened and a leather-clad figure dove through it, Peter sidestepped. The man hit the floor with a “shit” and rolled over to reveal his face. The children around them murmured in amazement as they realized that the lump in front of them was the one and only Hawkeye. 

“Aw, Pete, how do you always hear me coming?” Clint moaned as he sat up. 

Peter froze. Was Clint trying to out him as Spider-Man? Percy stepped in “It’s because you’re loud, bird brains. It’s a wonder that you made it this far as a super spy.”

Eyes going comically wide when he spotted the source of the voice, Clint feigned surprise at Percy’s presence. “What do we have here, folks? Could this be my favorite junior Avenger?” 

Amidst gasps of shock, Percy grinned and held his hand out to help Clint up. “Are you saying I’m your favorite because Spider-Man kicked your ass in that accuracy competition?”

“You can’t prove that.” Clint said, folding his arms. “Speaking of, though, you need to work on your accuracy. Didn’t they teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow at that camp of yours?” 

Annabeth laughed. “Oh, they tried to teach Seaweed Brain. He managed to nearly shoot Chiron, who was standing behind everyone. They haven’t let him near a bow since.” 

Pouting, Percy mumbled, “I’m still better than both of you at hand-to-hand.

Eyebrows raised, Annabeth turned to Percy. “Really? You think you’re better than me at hand-to-hand combat?” She whirled back around to face the acclaimed archer. “Is there anywhere that I can prove him wrong before the end of this trip?”

Clint grinned a Cheshire-cat grin while the blood drained from Percy’s face. “I do believe there is, Miss…?” 

“Annabeth Chase” She stuck her hand out. 

Clint shook it, the evil glint still in his eyes. “Well, Miss Chase, I do believe that there is a stop on your little tour here that will take you to the Avengers training room. In fact, I’ll make sure of it. And I certainly want to be there when our dearest Avenger gets taken down.” 

“I really don’t think there’s any need for that, really. Wisegirl, you know I don’t think I’m better than you at hand-to-hand combat. In fact I know I’m not as good. There’s really no need to show everybody.” Percy panicked. 

At this point, the elevator returned and the second group loaded in, including Peter and Shuri, who had stayed quiet for most of the encounter. As Peter passed, though, he clapped his hand on Percy’s shoulder, “Good luck, dude.” Accompanied by a grimace. He’d only met Annabeth a few times, but he’s pretty sure she isn’t one to let a challenge like that go by.  

The doors slid shut on the group. Even though it was only a ten second ride (Stark tech did have its perks), everyone shifted uncomfortably in the barely-big-enough elevator. No one uttered a word until the doors opened again and spit them out onto one of the research and development floors. 

All of the students, and even Mr. Gray, were fighting for a position at the observation window to see what the lab ahead of them was working on. Peter and Ned hung out in the back, having already seen this floor, and occasionally worked on it themselves when the scientists needed some help on new tech. 

Moments later, the last group joined them, sans Clint. One look from Percy told Peter they had not seen the last of the archer, though. Upon the arrival of the rest of the group, Lacy continued her monologue. “Here we have one of our research and development labs. This is where we work on lower clearance tech, like new Stark phones, and interns work on solo projects. Mostly this lab is populated by the lower level interns who each have one or two scientists or higher level interns that they check in with.”

Peter froze, again. He forgot about check in leaders. Which wouldn’t be important, except that he himself is a check in leader, and his team works on this floor. In this lab. Not even Percy could get the attention off of him now. 

“Hey, Pete! Can you come check something out for me?” He heard a voice. Looking over, he saw Mikey, one of his team members. 

Looking to his teachers for permission, and taking it from their stunned expressions, Peter nodded once and silently followed Mikey through to the lab. On Mikey’s workstation was a little robot, designed to help people with arthritis in their hands do small tasks, like shoe tying or, hypothetically, writing and typing. 

Mikey pressed the On button, and they both waited for something to happen. Nothing did. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong. It was working fine yesterday.” He said, helplessly. 

“Calm down, let me take a look at the inside.” Peter grabbed a nearby screwdriver and unscrewed the back panel. Inside was a cross of different colored wires and motherboards and circuits and-- there. “There’s a tiny disconnected wire in the back.” Peter fixed Mikey with a look. “This is a simple mistake that you usually catch. What’s up?” He narrowed his eyes and asked “How much  sleep have you gotten recently?”

“Eight hours!” Mikey responded defensively. Another look from Peter and he amended his statement “In the last three days…” 

Peter placed a hand on his intern’s shoulder and began leading him toward the door on the other side of the lab from the elevator. “You know I can’t condone that as both your friend and your check in leader. For both the safety of this lab and your health, I need you to hit the barracks. There is no way that you can safely operate any equipment in this state, much less conduct experiments.” 

They reached the door, and Peter opened it. Inside there were three sets of bunk beds. Mikey nodded and headed for one of the beds, and Peter shut the door behind him. Turning back to Lacy, he said “Please continue the tour, I have something I need to do. I’ll catch up when I’m through.” 

Mr. Gray started to object. “Mr. Parker, this is highly against the rules, and how could you possibly find us or get around the building--” Peter cut her off. 

“Mr. Gray, it’s obvious you don’t believe me about my internship, but I have to call a group meeting right now for the safety of this lab. As for how I will know where you are, FRIDAY will tell me. I practically live in this building and I have a higher access level than our lovely tour guide. Now, if you’ll please excuse me…” Peter no longer seemed like the excitable and cheerful .

He turned around and called his interns’ attention. “Alright. I know not all of you are in my unit, but I think it’s time we do a lab wide check in. So, keep working, but I’m going to check on everyone.”

Clapping her hands, Lacy called everyone’s attention back to her. “While Peter does his job, we are going to continue on. Next, we’re getting a rare treat. We are going to go to the Avenger’s floors and get an exclusive look into the life of an Avenger.” Her eyes sparked with excitement, obviously she was just as excited for this as the children. 

As the words left Lacy’s mouth, Percy’s hand tightened around Annabeth’s. Concerned, she looked at her Seaweed Brain. His face was grim and he leaned down. “A lot of secrets aren’t going to be so secret by the end of this, I guarantee.” 

Annabeth’s stomach dropped. She knew he wasn’t just referring to their secret. That was coming out today anyway. He was talking about Peter’s. Percy and Shuri exchanged concerned looks. Poor Peter. 

As they filed back into their groups, Percy was approached by Flash. “Hey! Jackson!” Percy turned to Flash with an unimpressed gaze. “Uh, I mean, Percy,” He amended. “What the hell is going on with Penis? What did he do to get all of this stuff?” Flash still didn’t believe Peter? Gods almighty, this boy was dumb. 

Percy sighed. “Eugene, Peter works here and he works closely with the Avengers. He got all of that by working hard and studying harder. Get over your jealous bullshit before it bites you in the ass.” 

His teacher snapped “Language, Mr. Jackson. We are guests here and you will not be the reason we get thrown out.” She turned away, making no comment on Flash’s behavior. 

Incredulous, he turned to Annabeth. “I hope she realizes that they aren’t going to kick me out. And that, technically, I could kick her out… right?” 

Annabeth just shrugged. “For all the knowledge your school claims to have, your teachers are pretty stupid.” 

The second group, chaperoned by Shuri, entered the elevator, which left Percy with his class. “FRI, you’re getting all of this footage of Eugene Thompson on film and voice recording, right?” Percy asked, once the doors had closed on Flash’s group. 

The Irish A.I. responded. “Yes, Mr. Jackson. I have already sent the footage to Boss. A Code Spider-Baby has been set in place. 

Percy sighed, once again. Code Spider-Baby meant that the Avengers were mad. And when they were mad, it didn’t end well. “Remind the Avengers that murder is not only immoral, but also illegal.” 

A moment passed. “Boss says that intimidation is not.” 

Percy had no answer. Intimidation of a minor was probably immoral, but there was no stopping protective-father Tony Stark. 

The elevator door dinged as it opened, allowing the third group in. They closed once the last person had filed in, and automatically took them to their destination. Floor 47. Fuck. 

Floor 47 was the Avengers training floor. The door opened and the group rushed out when they saw the set of adults standing there waiting for them. 

None other than Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, and a smirking Clint Barton stood waiting. “Now that everyone is here, let’s begin. Today we’re going to teach you some self defense skills. We’re going to split into groups and cycle through stations. But first, how about a few demonstrations?” 

The class cheered, drowning out the ding of Peter’s arrival. They did not, however, drown out Natasha. “Glad you could join us ребенок пауk.” The class turned around as he entered. 

Peter’s stomach dropped when he saw the glint in every super adults’ eyes. The Captain’s voice boomed as he exclaimed, “Peter! Percy! Why don’t you come help us?” He phrased it in a way that was definitely not a question. 

Resigned to their fate, the two trudged forward. Steve had a shit-eating grin on his face as they made their way to the front. “Why don’t you two choose your own partners?” 

Clint spoke up at this moment. “How about Steve, Annabeth, and Peter, versus Percy, Bucky and Natasha?” 

“What about you?” Annabeth questioned, walking up to join the group, grinning widely. 

Clint grinned innocently. “There’s six of you and that perfectly matches up. Adding me into the mix would only complicate matters.” 

A cough that suspiciously sounded like the word coward came from Bucky’s general direction. 

Rolling his eyes, Peter asked “Full capacity?” with the hint of a grin on his face. The whole class faded from his consciousness. 

Smirking, Natasha replied “Full capacity.” 

Steve called out to FRIDAY “Please activate operations PH2O and PW.” Part of the floor opened up to reveal a large salt-water pool. Parts of the wall and roof came outward. 

The five Avengers and Annabeth squared off. Natasha and Peter faced each other, Percy and Annabeth shared grins across from each other, and Bucky and Steve shook hands before stepping a few feet back from each other. 

“Fight!” Clint called from his place amongst the crowd of children, a place he knew he wouldn’t get dragged into the fight. The group converged at the same time. 

Despite the clash of super soldiers on the far end of the room, the Midtown high group focused on their classmates. Percy and Annabeth were blurs that no one could tell apart as they produced weapons from seemingly nowhere. As the two whirled around in a deadly waltz, Percy’s energy seemed to be flagging. The students watched as he stepped into the pool and seemed to gain his strength back. Slash. Jab. Clang. Their weapons moved with renewed vigor. As they watched, a tidal wave encased both of their legs and lifted them into the air. 

Peter, meanwhile, jumped into action, facing off against the deadly assassin with calm grace. He flipped over her as she struck a low blow to his legs, missing him by half an inch. He whirled around when he landed to face her and brought his leg up in a high kick. Natasha grabbed his standing leg and flipped him on his back. Before she could do anything else, he shot a web at the roof and pulled himself up to stick to the protruding piece of ceiling. He smirked as Natasha looked up at him. “Come down here, ребенок паук” She said in a sing-song voice. 

“You said full capacity, I’m just using my full capacity.” He teased. 

She rolled her eyes and pushed a button on her wrists. The class gasped as the Black Widow fired at their classmate. “Hey!” Peter cried as he leaped from the ceiling to the floor, where Natasha was ready to intercept him with her widow’s bites. She started to swipe at him and he double tapped his watch face. “Karen, activate gauntlets.” Instantly, the nano-tech of his suit wrapped around his forearms. He intercepted the Widow’s Bites with his suit covered arms. He didn’t hear the gasp of his classmates. 

They continued their fight until Natasha had him twisted with his back to her and a knife she grabbed out of nowhere to his throat. They both panted from the exertion of their fight, before grinning. Natasha released him from her hold and he twisted around. “Where did those come from?” She asked. 

“They came from adaptation. Last time we fought, you electrocuted me with those things. I adapted my suit to cover only parts of my body, just like Mr. Stark’s.” He grinned that grin that made the Avengers all fall in love with him in the first place. 

Natasha rumpled his hair and pulled him into a hug. “Brilliant job, ребенок паук.” 

Around them, the other duos came to a stop as well. Annabeth had her drakon-bone sword poised at Percy’s heart, his sword clattering to the floor far below them. Steve and Bucky both stilled with a shield at one throat and a dagger on another. 

The room was still and quiet; a pin could drop and everyone could hear it. Percy and Annabeth’s critiques of their fight as they descended from the water column broke the silence. The students gaped as it lowered them to the floor before calmly splashing back into the pool. 

“Ok, what the fuck?” Flash yelled, a small amount of pure terror glimmering as he looked back and forth between the two students. No teacher reprimanded his language. 

Steve traded a look with the rest of the Avengers. “Now would be a good time to remind you about the non-disclosure agreements you all signed.” He said. “I think we might have to allot a little bit more time to the question and answer portion of this tour.” 

The other Avengers in the room, including Peter and Percy, nodded their heads and they led the group back toward the elevator. The ride in each group was tense and awkward. No one knew how to process the information. Percy and Peter? That girl, Annabeth? What were they? Even Flash was silent. 

Finally all three groups had been corralled into the very same room Percy’s press conference would be held in only a couple of hours later. Silently, the group of Avengers in the tower filed onto the stage, minus Percy and Peter. Nat led the pack, followed by Clint, Steve, Bucky, Tony, Bruce, T’Challa, and Shuri brought up the rear. 

The room sat in silence until Tony said “So who has questions?” Every hand went into the air. 

Tony pointed at one hand in the crowd, and Betty stood up. “Are Percy and Peter Avengers?” 

A pause, before “Is everyone’s question about Percy and Peter?” Tony asked with an exasperated sigh. Everyone but Annabeth nodded their heads. 

Another sigh. “Alright, lets get those two up here, then, to answer your questions.” 

Peter and Percy both made their way up to the small stage. The other Avengers gave them space up front. Only Tony remained, acting as a mediator for the two teens. 

Every hand shook with earnest, trying to get called on, but Tony gestured for Betty to ask her question again. “A-are you two Avengers?” She stuttered. 

The two looked at each other, and Percy saw the anxious look on Peter’s face, so he spoke for them. “Yes.” He said simply, not expanding on the matter until he had to. 

Tony pointed to another hand. Abe stood up. “Uh, Percy, how could you do that stuff with the water? An-and fight like that?” 

Percy took a deep breath. Now was the time. “I fight like that thanks to five years of training with swordsmen far more experienced than I, and obviously, my beautiful girlfriend. I could do that stuff with the water because…” He took a deep breath . “Because I am a demigod. I am half god, half mortal, and my godly parent is Poseidon.” He smiled bravely as the group burst into disbelieving chatter. 

Tony whistled loudly  to draw their attention back. Immediately, hands flew back into the air. Peter’s stomach sank when Tony gestured to someone within Flash’s vicinity, and Flash spoke up. “How come you let Penis Parker and Pussy Jackson into the Avengers? Just because Jackson is supposedly some freak hybrid doesn’t mean he should be in the Avengers. He’s probably never done anything. Not to mention, Penis is some wimp loser. You need someone like me. I’m brilliant and I kick major ass.” He finished smugly, not aware of the glares from the stage, and the single pair of eyes being restrained behind him by a pretty pissed Ned. 

Not letting either boy try to de-escalate the situation, Tony Stark leaned forward, and said in a deadly quiet voice “What did you say about my sons?” 

The grin dropped off of Flash’s face. “S-sons?” 

Tony took on a manic grin. “Oh, yes. Sons. Not only do I know what you just said, we know everything you’ve said within this tower. Now, usually I’m above threatening minors. Usually. But due to your actions today, I think you deserve it. If you ever, and I mean ever, insult, ridicule or diminish in any way my sons, I will personally call every notable university in the world and get you blackballed from admission. And I promise Eugene, you will never, ever have a job at Stark Industries, or any worthwhile company in New York.” 

Flash, much to Peter’s surprise, did not back down. “But what’s so special about them? Penis, especially. He’s not worth anything.” 

Tony went red in the face, and Clint had to hold Natasha back, her weapons drawn already. The other Avengers seemed to be stifling anger as well. “Not worth anything? Buddy, let’s get something straight: Peter Parker is worth everything. Far more than you will ever be. He is the kindest, smartest, most humble and giving person I’ve ever met. This kid is smarter than you, smarter than me, hell, this kid is smarter than Bruce Banner. Not only that, but he would also give anyone the shirt off of his back if they asked him for it. But he’d never brag about it to anyone. You know how I know this kid is the best of his generation? Because not only is he brilliant, he could also boast about his position on the Avengers, but he doesn’t. He could have been like me, and told the whole world who he is, but he didn’t. Now, I think it’s time he does.” Tony finished, leaning back and gesturing to Peter, who stood a little taller after hearing everything Mr. Stark said about him. 

He took a deep breath and tapped his watch face twice. “Karen, activate Iron Spider.” The nano-tech creeped swiftly over his skin until the full Iron Spider suit encased him. The class gasped as they realized who their classmate was. 

“No!” Flash cried, outraged. “There is no way Puny Parker is Spider-Man! This has to be some kind of trick! Penis could never do what Spider-Man does!” 

The marine biology teacher crossed her arms. “Mr. Jackson, Mr. Parker, I think enough is enough. Please apologize for this silly prank and get down off the stage. I don’t know how you pulled this off, but I will be having words with Principal Morita when we return. Now get down.” 

In a flash, Tony’s wrath turned on the teachers, who had clumped together. “And you lousy lot call yourselves teachers? Are you so dense that even after everything you’ve seen today, you still don’t believe them? Percy Jackson and his girlfriend have saved this world more times than me! Peter Parker has saved my ass too many times to count.” Tony looked over the disbelieving eyes of Flash and the teacher. “Alright, you know what? You all signed a non-disclosure agreement, so if you leak anything you’ve seen or heard here, we’ll know it was one of you, and our lawyers will bury you in so many lawsuits, you won’t be getting out of them for decades. Now get out of my tower.” He said sharply. No one moved. “Now!” He shouted. 

Everyone jumped up and filed out of the room as quickly as possible. The last person was Mr. Gray. “Percy, Peter, you heard the man, come along.” 

“I will be keeping them with me. You’ll find I’ve been listed as a guardian for both of them.” Tony said with narrowed eyes. 

Mr. Gray nodded and scampered from the room, leaving only a single, blonde-haired girl sitting in her chair. Percy hopped off the stage to go talk to her. He pulled her to a standing position and into a hug. “Think that was good practice?” He asked. 

She chuckled. “I think most of the attention was on Peter, but yeah, good practice.” 

Tony Stark approached. “And who do we have here?” He asked. 

Percy straightened and grabbed Annabeth’s left hand. “Tony Stark, I’d like for you to meet my amazing girlfriend, Annabeth Chase. Annabeth, this is Tony Stark.” 

Tony smiled and extended his hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Miss Chase.” 

“All good things, I hope. I’d love to get you opinions on some of my designs.” Annabeth shook his hand. 

Natasha approached. “You must be Annabeth. Percy never stops talking about you. You’re a spectacular fighter. We should train together sometime.” She winked before walking off again. 

One by one, each of the Avengers introduced themselves. “After what I saw today, I think you would be a valuable member of our team.” Steve said with his Mr. America smile. 

“Ok, but first, the cat’s got to come out of the bag. That goes for a couple of things, I think.” Tony’s face was steeled in determination. 

Curious, Peter turned to Mr. Stark. “What’s the other thing?” He asked. 

“That’s a surprise. Peter, go put on the suit that’s in your room. Percy, the same goes for you. Annabeth--” 

Natasha cut Tony off. “Annabeth can borrow something of mine.” She smiled. Annabeth lit up at the opportunity to talk to the superspy more. 

Tony nodded. “Then that’s settled. We’ll tell the world what it needs to know in an hour and a half.”

****

The crowd of reporters talked animatedly. The Starks were about to announce something big, and no one had an inkling what it was. 

In the antechamber off to the side, Percy paced nervously while Peter sat with his knee bouncing. Percy felt bad for him; at least Percy knew what he was about to announce. Peter had no idea what he was doing here. Mr. Stark hadn’t told him anything.

Annabeth grabbed Percy’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “Percy, we’re going to be fine. It’s just like telling a group of new campers.” 

“You’re right. They’re just a bunch of unclaimed new campers who don’t know what they are. With cameras. And a lot of questions. Oh gods, I can’t do this on my own.” Percy’s eyes started looking panicky.

Annabeth grabbed his face and turned it towards her own. “That’s why you’re not alone, Seaweed Brain. You have Peter over here, you have Tony, and you have me. And if we have to, we can Iris Message Chiron and he can help explain. It’s okay.” 

Percy nodded and took deep breaths. Then Tony walked into the room in a tailored suit and his signature glasses. In his hands were two small boxes. 

Tony went immediately over to Peter, who had his head in his hands, covering his ears from all the noise of the reporters. “Kid, I got some things to help you.” He opened the smaller of two boxes. Inside sat two earpieces, like the ones singers and performers wear onstage. They were smaller, though, less perceptible. “They block out all of the useless noise and help you focus on the noise you want to. And these,” He opened the second box, revealing identical glasses to the ones he wore, “just look cool.” When Peter just stared, he thrust the boxes into Peter’s hands. “Take them. They’re yours to keep. Use them whenever you need them.” 

Peter gingerly took the boxes. “Thank you, Dad.” He hadn’t meant to say it , but he paid no attention to Tony’s reaction as he fit the earpieces into his ears and put on the glasses. Immediately, he sighed with relief, quickly followed by a gasp of surprise as the glasses turned on. Analytics scanned across his eyes. He realized that Karen had been programmed into the glasses, and that he now had her at any time he wanted. He got up and hugged and a still-stunned Tony, who slowly hugged him back. 

They embraced for a moment before Tony’s watch beeped. “It’s go-time, kids. You guys wait here until I announce you. Peter, you’ll know when to come out.” He winked at Peter. 

Tony opened the door and stepped out and up onto the stage. “Welcome, everybody, to this press conference. Today we have a few announcements from a few different people, including one from me. So without further ado, allow me to introduce our newest Avengers, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.” 

The pair traded glances. When did Annabeth officially become an Avenger? They stepped out the door and into the hoard of flashing lights and screaming reporters. They walked up to the podium set up with a dozen microphones, ready to capture their truths. 

Percy cleared his throat and everyone settled. “Hi, everyone, my name is Percy Jackson and this is my girlfriend, Annabeth Chase, and we are demigods.” The crowd jumped into a frenzy, shouting questions and snapping pictures. 

Tony came back to the microphone. “Everyone calm down and raise your hands like civilized people. Thank you.” the crowd calmed slightly. 

Annabeth pointed to a blonde haired reporter. “What do you mean by demigod?” 

“We are the product of relations between gods and mortals. We are half god or goddess and half mortal.” She answered. 

Pointing to another sandy-haired reporter. “Who are your godly parents?” 

Percy answered. “I am the son of Poseidon and Annabeth is the daughter of Athena.” 

A dark hair reporter stood up with no prompt. “What good do you bring to humanity? Why shouldn’t you be subject to tests or wiped out completely? Do you pose a danger to us?” 

Percy took a deep, calming breath, then launched into their story. “Our kind has spent centuries fighting monsters and wars. In the past few years, myself, Annabeth, and several other brave demigods fought multiple primordial beings that tried to take over the world, resulting in tolling wars. We’ve been key characters in those  wars and history in general, and you would be amazed to find out how many historical figures were demigods. We don’t pose any kind of direct threat to the mortal world, we’ve been saving it for centuries. Next question.” 

A curly haired reporter stood. “What benefit do you bring to the Avengers?” 

Annabeth took this question. “We are skilled fighters who train from the time we discover our identity to now. We have demigods who have been training constantly for ten or more years. We also have knowledge of and weapons that can kill monsters” 

The next question came from a raven-haired reporter. “How many of your kind are there?” 

“Fewer now, thanks to the last couple of wars, but our numbers grow every time a new demigod child is born. There are many kinds of demigod, Roman, Greek, Norse, and probably more that we don’t know about yet. Annabeth and I are Greek, but we have friends and family from other pantheons.” 

Annabeth leaned forward to speak. “This will be the last question, thank you.” 

The final question came from a reporter up front. “Why tell us now? You’ve kept the secret for so long, why now?” 

Annabeth answered. “We’ve kept our secret for so long thanks to something called the Mist. It’s a veil between the mortal world and our own. Unfortunately, I received word today that the Mist will finally fall at any moment, and we wanted to make the world aware on our terms.” 

There was a flurry of movement as the reporters tried to ask more questions, but Tony, once again, stepped forward. “That will be all for this segment of the press conference.” The two filed off, disappearing back to the antechamber. They both breathed a sigh a relief that it was over, even if the effects of everything they just announced would last for the rest of their lives. 

Onstage, they heard Tony calming down the crowd. “Now, I have an announcement, myself. For this, I’d like to bring out my personal intern, Peter Parker.” 

Peter braced himself and stepped into the room, hesitant smile on his face. Mr. Stark was standing at the podium and gestured for Peter to join him. “Ladies and gentlemen, and those who identify as neither, I give you my heir to Stark Industries!” 

Whipping his head around, Peter came face to face with a beaming Tony Stark. Him? Heir to Stark Industries? Surely Mr. Stark didn’t mean it… He glanced back toward the crowd of reporters and gave them a brave smile. 

“Peter will not be taking questions at this time. I’m afraid he just received this news as well. Thank you everyone for coming today, this now concludes our press conference.” Tony led the dazed teenager off the stage.

They entered the antechamber and Percy clapped him on the back to congratulate him. Tony didn’t stop in the antechamber, he led Peter all the way to the elevator and then into their lab before either of them talked. 

“You ok, Pete?” Mr. Stark finally asked. 

“Ok? Mr. Stark, I’m in shock, I’m overwhelmed, but yes, I’m ok. I was just given the most prestigious honor I could ever imagine. Your heir? I mean… wow. Although this means I’m going to have to triple major or something. I was already going to double major in chemical and mechanical engineering and now I’ll probably need to add business so I can run the other side of things… Unless you’re leaving that half to someone else, of course, then please disregard everything I’ve said--” 

Mr. Stark cut him off. “Pete! You’re rambling. It’s just you, but don’t worry about anything just yet. You’re not taking over tomorrow. You’ve got time.” 

Peter took another deep breath to calm down, then turned to Mr. Stark and pulled him into another hug. They both melted into each other. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark buried his head in his kids shoulder and smiled. “You’re welcome, kid, you’re welcome.” 

[walkerismychoice]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 16 (Bryce X MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: It’s the day of the wedding rehearsal, and Charlie introduces Bryce to another one of her family members. Also, there may be trouble in paradise for Katelyn and Landry.

Note: Just in case the relationship between Kyra isn’t clear, they are not related by blood or technically even by marriage. They are both related to Katelyn as her cousin, but they are from opposite sides of the family. Charlie only knows Kyra from when she would invite them both over as kids. This distinction will be necessary this chapter, lol.

Also another thing which I have failed to mention enough is that most of the locations and things in this series are real parts of this resort. There are mentions of a bar, specific bartender, and cocktail, all of which really exist at Half Moon resort.

Lastly, I appreciate all the feedback I got on where to take this series. I was able to merge several ideas with things I already had in mind, so there’s no specific credit to be given, but you may see bits and pieces of what you personally suggested from here on out. Thank you all again for your help.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2850

Friday

"There's something different about you...." Kyra narrows her eyes and scans Charlie discerningly. "Is it new makeup? You're all glowy or something."

"No, I don’t think so." Charlie laughs nervously. Kyra knows, or if she doesn't she's about to figure it out. Not that Charlie would keep it from her, but she doesn't want to discuss it here, seated amongst the wedding party at the beachside set-up, waiting for the officiant to arrive to start the rehearsal.

"Oh my god! You and Bryce fu-"

"Kyra!" Charlie covers Kyra's mouth with her hand. "This is not the time nor the place."

Kyra smirks satisfactorily. "You didn't deny it. I expect full details later. And I mean everything."

Charlie rolls her eyes but can't hold back a smirk. "Okay, just keep it down for now."

Kyra glances off to the side where Bryce is waiting and winks at him. Bryce shoots a confused look to Charlie and she just shrugs and throws her hands up. As expected, Kyra is having difficulty with the concept of discretion.

The rehearsal is uneventful, but there seems to be extra tension between between Katelyn and Landry. Not that they’re a super affectionate couple to begin with, but the air is especially icy between them. Maybe it’s just stress and pre-wedding jitters, but whatever the case, seeing those two together makes Charlie even more thankful she’s not still with Andrew.

Bryce approaches Charlie as they are dismissed to head to the rehearsal dinner and loops his arm around her waist. “You walked down that aisle like a pro. You’re going to nail your performance tomorrow.”

Charlie giggles. “Well this is me we’re talking about. No guarantees I won’t fall flat on my face.

Bryce nods. “This is true. I’ll have to make sure you keep your alcohol consumption to a minimum tomorrow.

“But not tonight. I have to deal with my parents again. Oh, and did I mention my brother should be there too? His flight was supposed to get in this afternoon.”

“No you did not. Is he as hard to impress as your parents?”

“Nah,” Charlie shakes her head. “He never liked Andrew, but I have a feeling he’ll like you.”

“Sounds like a good judge of character then, so obviously he’ll love me.” Bryce smirks. 

“Hurry it up you two!” Kyra calls over her shoulder. “Cocktail hour starts now, and I don’t want to drink alone.”

~~~

“Guess who!” A pair of large hands cover Charlie’s eyes as she stands at the bar, but she’d know that voice anywhere.

“Will!” She spins around on her tiptoes and throws her arms around her much taller brother. "I’ve missed you!”

He squeezes her back tight. “You too, Chuck.”

“Okay, I don’t miss you anymore. You can get right back on that plane and go back to Africa.”

“Chuck?” Bryce questions with an amused expression on his face. “I haven’t heard that one yet.

“Just a nickname Will calls me to annoy the shit out of me. If you haven’t guessed, Bryce, this is my brother Will. Will this is my boyfriend, Bryce.” The word feels strange and uncertain coming off her tongue now that this thing between them is officially real, but she’s instantly reassured when she sees Bryce smile brighter when he hears it.

“Nice to meet you, Will.” Bryce extends his hand to will, but Will pulls him in for a hug and claps him on the back.

“Same to you. Charlie, I can’t believe you’ve been keeping him a secret from me.” Will puts a hand up to his lips as a shield. “He’s hot!” he mouths inaudibly to Charlie. 

“You know I could see that.” Bryce chuckles.

“Yeah, please don’t feed his ego. It’s already big enough,” Charlie teases and the guys both laugh. ”Anyway you’ve been so busy with your Peace Corps stuff, I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you lately,” Charlie offers as an excuse without having to reveal that Bryce didn’t exist in her life before two weeks ago.

“Fair enough. I’ll catch up with you two later, but I should go say hi to mom and dad. You wanna come with?”

“No.” Charlie shakes her head emphatically. “I’ve had enough of them already, mom especially.”

Will frowns sympathetically. “I’m sure as soon as mom sees her favorite baby boy and dad starts hounding me about deadlines for applying to grad school, they’ll forget whatever they were on you about.”

“Good luck with that.” Charlie waves him along with a tight-lipped grin.

“Oh my god!” Kyra walks up beside Charlie. “I haven’t seen Will since we were kids. When did get get so grown up...and hot.”

“Kyra!” Charlie smacks her in the shoulder. “That’s my little brother!”

“Well he’s not my brother. And in case you forgot, we aren’t related, and he’s not a kid anymore.”

“Hey, I don’t blame her.” Bryce joins in. “Good looks run in the Hawkins family. He’s got your gorgeous green eyes, and that stubble and ‘too busy doing humanitarian work to get my hair cut’ look is really working for him.”

“Ugh, now you are drooling over him too? Whose side are you on?”

“Aww, you know I’m on your side, babe.” Bryce pulls Charlie close, taking her breath away with a heated kiss. “You’re the only Hawkins I want.”

Kyra clears her throat. “You guys are disgusting...in the best possible way, of course.  

“Sorry,” Charlie steps away from Bryce sheepishly. “We should probably get to our table now. Looks like they are starting to serve dinner."

Charlie reluctantly sits with her family, but sticks to pleasantries with her parents. Kyra rounds out the 6 person table, providing a much needed buffer. Charlie's not sure if her mom is just pretending the whole thing never happened, like she so often does, or if she's just waiting to get into it again when nobody else is around, but she'll take the peace for now. It's not really awkward anyway with all the stories Will has to tell. Unsurprisingly Kyra is hanging on his every word, but he doesn't seem to mind the attention.

A short while after dinner is served Kyra nudges Charlie in the side and nods toward the corner. “Check that out.”

Charlie tries to turn her head inconspicuously and spots Katelyn and Landry seemingly in the middle of an argument. And then, without any notice or goodbyes, they leave the restaurant. “Well that doesn’t look good,” she mumbles under her breath.

Noticing the commotion, the tall Sarah stands up to cover for the couple. “The Bride and Groom wanted me to tell everyone they are retiring early for the evening so they can be well rested for tomorrow.” Landry and Katelyn’s parents all look confused but shrug it off and go back to eating their meals.

“Well,I think the party’s over here. Is there a good bar or somewhere we can go to hang out?” Will asks.

“How about Cedar Bar?” Bryce suggests. “I think Caswell is on tonight, and he’s the best.”

Will Chuckles. “I suppose I’d be familiar with all the bartenders here too if I had to put up with Katelyn for a whole week.”

Charlie laughs. “Bryce is just like that. He's made friends with just about all the staff here. It's unbelievable really."

"It's not fault people can't resist my charming, magnetic personality. It's just how I am." He winks at Charlie.

Charlie rolls her eyes but can't hold back a smirk. "Well then lets go and you can work your magic to get us some free drinks."

~~~

The night is warm and there’s a gentle breeze coming off the water into the open air bar. It’s busy, but not too crowded or loud to engage in conversation. The group finds an open table for four and Bryce goes up to the bar to do his thing. He shakes Caswell’s hand and returns to the table with a triumphant look on his face. “Four Yellowbird cocktails, coming up.”

“Uh, what’s in those?” Kyra asks skeptically.

Bryce shrugs. "When someone offers you their signature cocktail for free, you don't ask."

Moments later a cocktail waitress brings over four hurricane glasses filled with yellow-orange liquid and a colorful fruit garnish. Charlie takes a sip and is met with an interesting mix of flavors but it somehow works. "Not bad. Definitely rum, orange juice, bananas and.... something else. I feel like this is one of those dangerous drinks that could get you drunk real fast."

Kyra takes a big swig of her drink. "I'll be glad to test that theory out."

Will leans over to whisper something in Kyra's ear, a blush creeping over her cheeks before she pushes her drink off to the side. Charlie’s still not quite sure how to feel about whatever is going on between the two of them, but Will’s an adult and she trusts Kyra, so she’s just not going to interfere.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating someone new.” Will shakes his head at Charlie. “How did you two meet?”

This part is still tricky, they’ve practiced the story but it’s really hard to look Will in the eyes and lie. “Well we were both medical students,” she offers, which is technically true.

“But didn’t you say you went to Harvard, Bryce?”

“I did, but there is some overlap in the faculty and hospital appointments between Harvard and Boston University so sometimes the students end up in the same place.”

Charlie breathes a sigh of relief at Bryce’s quick-thinking answer, and Will seems satisfied. Bryce places on hand on Charlie’s knee under the table, idly rubbing soothing circles over her skin. He continues with these little touches here in there, but unlike before, these aren’t for anyone else to see. 

They finish their cocktails and order another round of less extravagant drinks while catching up. Unsurprisingly, Bryce and Will get along like old friends, and Will only embarrasses Charlie a little. With what Bryce has seen of her already, she’s not worried anything Will says will scare him away.

“Hey guys, mind if I crash your party?” A stunned silence falls over the table as a bleary eyed Katelyn stands before them.

“Um, not at all,” Charlie replies as Bryce pulls up an extra chair to the end of the table. 

“No offense, Katelyn, but you kind of look like shit,” Will adds. “Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep for the wedding?”

She rolls her eyes at the same time she wipes the mascara smudges with the back of her hand. “Who knows if there will even be a wedding.”

“What?” Charlie and Kyra both gasp. Although Charlie can think of a multitude of reasons why Katelyn and Landry aren’t right for each other, she couldn’t imagine Katelyn calling off the wedding at this point.

“Landry is just as much of a douchebag as you all thought. Even if you never said it, I could tell you all were thinking it.”

“What happened?” Charlie asks out of genuine concern. As much as she can’t stand the person who Katelyn has become, she’s still family and Charlie still cares. 

“Fucking Tanner showed up.” Katelyn pulls out her phone and shows them some screenshots of intimate conversations between Landry and his friend from college within the last few months. “He said they were just joking, but I’m not that naive. I forgave him so long as he cut off communication, and I thought he did. Then Tanner showed up today, and our arguing escalated until we went back to the room. I demanded to see his phone and found a thread of messages hidden under another name. He claimed Tanner’s only here because the invitations went out before I found everything out. He says he still loves me and begged me to go through with the wedding, but I don’t know if I can.”

“Screw him,” Kyra scoffs. “You can do so much better.”

Katelyn might be awful to put up with, but Kyra’s right. Landry’s still not good enough for her, but Charlie’s not sure that’s what Katelyn wants to hear right now. “What Kyra means is that you deserve someone you love and loves you just as much in return.”

Bryce stands up. “Maybe we should let you ladies have some time to talk this through. Will, come get a drink at the bar with me?”

The men leave and Katelyn picks up Wills half-full cocktail and downs it. “I don’t know what to do... Are you going to finish that?” She points to Charlie’s drink, and Charlie slides it over to her.

“What does your gut say you should do? You don’t have to feel obligated to marry him just because we are all here for the wedding.”

Kyra takes another sip of her drink. “Yes, what she said.”

“I don’t even know if I love him. I love what he is on paper. He can give me the life I’ve always wanted, and if I don’t have him, I’m left with nothing.”

“Psshht.” Kyra shakes her head. “Girl, you know you are way out of his league.”

“Who is this Katelyn and what did she do with my independent, intelligent, ambitious cousin? The Katelyn I grew up with wouldn’t need a man for anything,” Charlie echoes the sentiment. 

“But I’ve given up going to law school to be a wife. It’s all I have now.”

“Katelyn, you’re only twenty-six, and in case you forgot, still independently wealthy. You have the time and money to do anything you want. If you want to marry Landry because it makes you happy, do that, but not because you think it is what you are supposed to do.” 

“Trust me,” Kyra interjects. “You’ll look like much less of a loser if you call off the wedding than if you actually marry that pasty-ass white boy.”

“Kyra!” Charlie shoots her a glare. Sure they’ve all been thinking it but it’s a bit harsh to say out loud.

“Kyra’s right. I should have dumped the cheating, spineless, scrawny-ass bastard a long time ago.”

Charlie leans over to hug Katelyn, stifling a laugh. “We aren’t trying to tell you what you do, but we’ll support whatever decision is best for you. Right, Kyra?” Charlie arches her eyebrows at Kyra as a warning to keep her mouth filtered for Katelyn’s sake.

“Yep.” She gets up to give Katelyn said after Charlie retreats. 

“Good.” Katelyn dabs her tears away with a cocktail napkin. “Now I need all the drinks.” She reaches for another drink, but Charlie stops her.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

“Yes.” Katelyn pushes away from the table and walks up to bar, ordering two shots and downing them immediately. Will and Bryce bring her back to the table, already another drink in hand.

Bryce leans in to whisper to Charlie. “We should probably try to keep her from over-doing it.”

“It might be a little late for that, but we’ll watch her.”

The night wears on and the group sneakily orders a couple more non-alcoholic beverages for Katelyn, but she’s already had quite enough. It’s getting late and Kyra and Will bow out first, Will volunteering to “walk Kyra back to her room” as if that isn’t obvious. Charlie finally convinces Katelyn to go back to Landry and face whatever is going to happen.

“I’m just going to use the restroom before we go. Do you need to go, Katelyn?”

“No, I’m good.” Katelyn stumbles back against the wall.

“I’ll wait out here with her,” Bryce offers. 

“Good call.” Charlie laughs and pushes through the women’s room door.

~~~

Katelyn is a fucking mess. Bryce has no idea how she and Charlie can be related. She’s good looking enough, but nowhere near as pretty as Charlie. But her personality...yikes. Charlie says Katelyn wasn’t always this way, and he’s grateful Charlie has managed to grow into the person she is despite a similar upbringing.

“Charlie’s so lucky to have you.” Katelyn slurs, stumbling forward and crashing into Bryce’s chest. He tips her back upright, but her hands remain planted on his pecs, giving them a squeeze. “You know how bad I’ve been wanting to feel these? I know you’re always showing off your muscles because you want everyone to look, and I’ve definitely been looking.”

Bryce removes Katelyn’s hands, placing them at her sides. Sure he’s proud of his body and likes to show it off, but he’s certainly not looking for this type of attention. ”That doesn’t mean everyone gets to touch me. That’s reserved for Charlie.” 

Katelyn pouts.”But is she as good of kisser as me?” 

Bryce should have been anticipating it from her question, but before he can make sense of what’s happening, Katelyn arms around around his neck and her lips are his. Initially shocked and frozen in place, he finally comes around, but it’s already too late.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Landry booms, his face red with anger, and next to him is a bewildered looking Charlie.

[springday-aus]

iKon’s Bobby: The Second Chance

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N [gn] and iKON’s Kim Ji Won (Bobby) 

Other Characters: Twice [Momo and Jeongyeon] and ex-soulmate!Jisoo [Blackpink] 

Genre: romance, little angst (if you squint hard enough), soulmate!au with Bobby (timer + words of the first exchange) 

Type: one-shot writing piece

Word Count: approx. 4k 

Plot Summary: everyone has a destined soulmate, which can be found through a timer and the words of their first exchange. It was created by the gods to help the humans, in leading a less-chaotic life. Ironically enough, this whole soulmate fiasco is unneeded chaos you would rather live without. 

⤷ Alternatively: who the hell says “oh, shit” to their soulmate when they first meet? 

Warnings: long-ass intro/set-up before Bobby is introduced; mentions of polytheism; profanity 

You stare down at the personal time bomb that’s permanently tattooed along your arm. No matter how hard you increasingly stare at it, the time continues to go down—second by second. You already seem to have begrudgingly admitted your fate as you lay your head in between your history textbook. 

You’re doomed. Today’s the day. You’re going to meet your soulmate and it doesn’t seem like the gods were willing to push it back any further. 

In another world, you would’ve chosen a life without a soulmate bond. You’re happy with the way you’re life is going now. Things are just settling. You’ve finally gotten your own apartment; you have a stable paycheck and you’re actually able to study what interests you. You might be research soulmates, but you weren’t supposed to worry about meeting your new soulmate for another five years. So, why did no one out of nowhere have to invade your life now? 

Too preoccupied with your misery, you don’t notice the little chime from the library’s cafe door. Momo enters, looking past the bookshelves and tables for you—her ankle boots quickly clack on the polished wooden floors as she makes her way through. 

She spots you in the corner and walks over, dropping her books on the table. “There you are,” she says. “Sit up, you look like you’re dying.” She takes the seat in front of you, taking in the depression cloud that hovers over your head. “You know, you’re in a public space. You could at least have a nervous breakdown at home, like a normal person.” 

You groan. “You don’t even know the half of  it.” 

“Okay, try me. What happened?” 

You simply lay out your arm out, displaying the little numbers counting down. 

“You’re meeting your soulmate today? That’s great! I thought you had, like, what? Four—or was it five? Five years, right?” 

You finally look at her. “It was five years. But, for some odd reason, the time jumped when I made the decision to meet you and Jeongyeon.” 

Momo grins at you. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore. I think the anxiety would have killed me.” 

“Let’s just move on. Did you order anything yet?” 

“No, not yet. I’ll go now, since I know you’re not actually dying.” Momo flashes another smile at you, before leaving the table to head towards the counter. 

Meanwhile, you sit yourself up and clear the table of your previous set-up. It’s fine—everything’s fine. You’ll just focus on what you’re here for in the first place. You pull out your phone for the recording, as well as a notebook and several colored pens. Once Jeongyeon arrives at noon, you can officially start the interview process. Your research is more centered on abnormal soulmate bonds, but you still need normal couples to compare to—Momo and Jeongyeon are the most normal of couples you happen to know. 

You take the last sip of your tea and glance around. The library cafe is supposed to be another study area for university students, but it seems like it’s been overtaken by couples. The open windows allow a bizarre amount of sunlight to pour onto the lovey-dovey atmosphere. Empty cups and plates rest on the occupied tables, and everyone’s eyes sparkle as they look into their sweetheart’s eyes, clearly too invested in whatever the hell they’re talking about. Love: what a gross concept.

Momo comes back, with two coffees in hand and Jeongyeon right behind her. They both settle themselves in the seats facing you, setting down their bags and taking off their jackets. 

“Geez, (Y/N),” Jeongyeon says. “Try not to look too disgusted.” 

“I can’t help what I feel.” 

“Go easy on her,” Momo says. “She’s a bit moodier than usual.” 

“Oh?” Jeongyeon turns to you with wide eyes. “Why’s that?” 

You visibly grimace, practically retreating back into your shell. Momo chuckles, before answering for you. “(Y/N)’s soulmate meeting is happening today.” 

“That’s exciting!” 

You let out a laugh, but it’s one of disbelief and slight dread. “No, Jeongyeon. It’s not.” 

“Why are you even studying soulmates if you hate them so much?” 

“To prove my point.” 

“Which is?” 

“That love is absolute bullshit,” you say. “Even with the gods involved. You know that divorce rates haven’t entirely diminished, right? My research proves that at least three percent of soulmate bonds don’t actually work out. Seventy percent of soulmates may have succeeded, but ten percent have the possibility of getting reassigned.” 

“Yup,” Momo says. “That’s our lil’ ray of sunshine.” Her eyebrows furrow, realizing something. “Isn’t this, like, a conflict of interest? You know, since you and Jisoo ended up splitting—” 

“Nope.” You cut her off, refusing to let her bring up that painful memory. “Nope, none at all.” 

Momo gives her a pointed look. 

“Drink your coffee,” you say to her. You focus your attention elsewhere. You clear your throat, in hopes of moving away from the topic of your first-soulmate rejection. Luckily, the Jisoo incident happened before Jeongyeon joined your little friend group as Momo’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt any less because you don’t bring it up often. 

You try not to think about Jisoo often, especially since you were basically kids when you’d first met. You don’t think about how you felt when you first saw her on the kickball field in the fourth grade, or how the wind danced with her hair and the light sparkled against her skin. You don’t remember how bright Jisoo’s smile was when you first looked at each other. You don’t think about you practically spent your entire childhood together—up until sophomore year. 

You don’t think about how much pain you felt when someone—who you were supposed to be with for the rest of your life—suddenly left you because the gods decided you were no longer meant to be together. You don’t think about how shocked you were when Jisoo dropped their relationship so quickly once her timer reset. You don’t think about how angry you still are whenever you see those stupid teenage soulmate bondings in front of your face, as if the gods are rubbing salt into your wounds. 

You don’t think about how Jisoo and stupid Junmyeon got together a bit too quickly, especially when you two had only broken up a week ago. You don’t think about how they were practically showcasing their relationship all throughout the rest of high school. You don’t think about how they’re probably married now, living in some generic neighborhood with their stupid kids and stupid minivan. 

Nope, you don’t think about it at all. 

Your fists clench, nearly snapping the pen in your hand. Momo sips on her coffee. 

Jeongyeon glances between you two before speaking up. “So, why are we here? I think our soulmate bonding went just fine.” 

You try to refocus, racking your brain for the right words. “From what I remember, you didn’t have some corny Nicholas Sparks designed meeting. Plus, I’ve known Momo since middle school, so I can ask whatever I want to get the data I need.” 

Jeongyeon hums in agreement. Then, she leans towards you with a particular look in her eyes. “You know, there’s conspiracy theories that the government is behind all of this. They all probably drugged our water and all of this is an illusion.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The theories. There’s one that says pollution is to blame. All those harmful chemicals that are up in the air, went into our water, and it’s causing us to hallucinate. The government is using this to cover it up.” 

Momo rolls her eyes. “Yeonnie, you think the government’s involved with everything.” 

Jeongyeon turns her body towards Momo. “We’re in the presence of an expert—” 

“Grad student.” 

“—we might as well confirm it.” 

“First of all,” you say. “That’s not how this works.” You pause, placing a hand under your chin and the other to twirl your pen. “You two experienced it first-hand, shouldn’t you understand how this works better than I do?” 

“Our first exchange was rather generic,” Momo says. “Someone else introduced us. The first words Jeongyeon said to me was literally ‘what up my guy.’” 

To prove her point further, she shows the words inscribed on her wrist—written in perfect little cursive, alongside a blank timer that’s clean of numbers in line. 

“We met in high school,” Jeongyeon says. “You should’ve known there was gonna be a stupid line on there. It’s not like yours was any better. Do you think I enjoyed having the words ‘I’m sorry, what?” on my wrist?” 

“I needed you to repeat the words! I didn’t actually think you’d be my soulmate.” 

“Didn’t you hear the chimes, bells—whatever you call them—when I said it? Or the little tingle from your arm?” 

“Well, I did. But I needed to confirm it. At least, that’s what I was thinking at the time.” 

“You know,” you say. “The whole point of the chimes and the timer tingle, as you called it, is for you to know that that person is your soulmate. The research time assumes the gods made that modification, after the fraud crimes started to go up around the first generation of the soulmate bonds.” 

“That was a thing?” Jeongyeon asks. 

You nod. “That—that was actually a thing.” 

“Wait, (Y/N),” Momo says. “You got a new phrase! What does yours say now?” 

The couple stare at you, but you move your arms underneath the table and turn away. In hopes that they wouldn’t be able to hear you, you mutter under your breath. “It says, ‘oh shit.’” 

Unfortunately for you, Jeongyeon picks up on it. “Oh shit?” 

You nod slowly, feeling yourself sink into your seat, and reconfirming her words. “It says ‘oh shit.’” 

“Oh,” Momo says. “Shit.” 

You sigh. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems,” Jeongyeon says. 

“Yeah,” Momo says. “Maybe the gods have something special planned for you, especially since they kind of screwed you over the first time.” 

You lean back against your chair, your arms wrapping themselves around you tighter. “Let’s just focus back on you two. After this, I just need to go home and stay home. If I’m lucky, nothing will happen and the time will change back to five years.” 

Your plans to hole yourself in at home are officially ruined. 

After the official interview session, Momo and Jeongyeon were planning on going to the farmers market. However, Jeongyeon had forgotten she’d already made plans with an old friend of hers—something about an engagement and party planning—which is how Momo successfully ropes you into coming with her instead. 

“Come on, (Y/N),” Momo says. “They probably have some of those fruits that you like. You don’t even need to worry about meeting your soulmate yet. You have time.” 

So, here you are at the farmers market in front of a grape stand. Momo stands over each bundle, inspecting each bunch carefully. Meanwhile, you’re just there, next to her, smiling awkwardly at the lady on the other side of the time from time to time. 

For a while, you stand there in silence, but then you finally ask her. “Do I really need to be here?” 

“Yes, I’m not like you,” Momo says. “I can’t be alone for a long period of time.” 

“You were probably going to be here for a couple of hours max.” 

“Still. I don’t like being out alone. You should know this by now.” 

“Gods bless for Jeongyeon.” 

“Speaking of which,” Momo says, trying to be cautious with her words. “I don’t think you have to worry about your new soulmate.” 

“Momo, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“I know you don’t. But, this could be good for you. You haven’t been the same since Jisoo left and I know you’re still hurt, but it happened in sophomore year. You need to move on...maybe that’s why you’re meeting your new soulmate today.” 

“That can still change.” 

“I don’t think you should get your hopes up. It’s been years since Jisoo. Face the facts: this is happening today.” 

You sigh, knowing Momo isn’t going to let go of the subject. “Well, I still think this whole scheme is bullshit.” You pick at the stems of some of grapes in arm’s reach. “The gods should have left me alone after deciding to pair off Jisoo and Junmyeon together.” 

“They’re able to find their happiness. You have the right to find yours too.” Momo stands back up, facing you. “All of this.” She gestures towards your face. “Is more of a reason to push it.” 

“But, why?” 

“Well, you know what they say.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“‘The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.’” 

Momo’s car rolls up in front of your apartment complex. After putting it into park and turning on her blinkers, she looks at you, but you’re already unbuckling yourself from the car seat. 

“Have a fun night in with Coconut.” 

“Oh, I plan to. And, please let Jeongyeon know I said thanks again for today.” 

“Of course.” 

With that said, you get out of the car and slam the door shut, ready to wrap yourself in a soft blanket and cuddle with your cat. You’re able to head into the building, only to hear Momo shout from her car window. “Hey! Wait!” 

You turn around. “What?” 

“Keep me updated on the soulmate thing! Let me know how it goes.” 

“Alright, bye.” 

“Bye!” 

With a wave, you watch Momo’s care drive off. You take notice of a familiar car that rolls up to the building. Gods, it’s your neighbor from across the hall. He has never personally disturbed you, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone if he learned how to properly park his car, play his music at a more appropriate volume, or have less house parties on weeknights. You understand that he’s a more social person, at least more social than you, but still. 

What’s his name again? It starts with a B... Brian? Billy? Bob? It’s Bobby! You vaguely remember seeing it on his mailbox. You really should make an effort to know your neighbors better. Someone could be a serial killer and you wouldn’t even know it. You shake your head, taking yourself out of your thoughts. 

You enter the building swiftly, in hopes of avoiding Bobby. You walk through the lobby and into the elevator, pressing the button for the sixth floor. As the doors start to close, a hand comes between the doors and you have to suppress a groan. 

Bobby’s face pops in with an apologetic smile, but it doesn’t stop you from giving him a couple of choice words in your head. You look away from him, trying not to make eye contact. 

Despite being neighbors, you don’t talk to one another. Granted, it’s normal since it’s only been a couple of months since you’ve officially moved in. But, you can’t seem to recall if you’ve actually spoken to him. There’s been the polite smiles, nods, and the occasional waves (and some secret glares you give him from previously mentioned disturbances), but never an actual greeting. 

Although, you have heard things. It’s not that you mean to eavesdrop—it just happens. The rooms are close enough and the walls are fairly thin; eavesdropping was bound to occur. One night, you were organizing your data from the previous week, you had overheard one of Bobby’s friends (Junhoe, maybe?) laughing his ass off from across the hall. Long story short, whenever he meets his soulmate, they won’t be thrilled to meet him. 

You couldn’t help yourself from glancing down at his arm. It’s fully covered by his shirt’s sleeve, yet the wrist exposes his partner’s oh-so special words: you need to get the fuck off of me. You almost laugh aloud just thinking about it, but you suppress it by biting on your lower lip and focus on the elevator’s floor. 

Yeah, he could play his music a bit quieter and learn how to wear less cologne, but you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy. You can only imagine what would happen for those words to be uttered. 

The elevator stops at the sixth floor and the both of you get off—footsteps matching one another’s. You remain silent as you both make your way to the end of the hall. With another polite smile exchanged to one another, you unlock your door and step into your respective home. 

Once you shut the front door, you’re greeted by Coconut. You can’t help but coo at the little ball of white fur that walks between your legs, rubbing his head on your ankles with a soft purr. 

“Hi baby, did you miss me?” You pick him up, hugging him against your chest. “It’s just you and me tonight.” 

You bounce him a bit in your arms, lost in your own world and that’s when you hear it—a strong bass beat plays in the background. Your face contorts—gods, you’re really praying for his soulmate. 

The bright light of the TV shines against the darkness of your living room—well, at least you and your couch. You sit cross-legged with Coconut lying comfortably on your lap, a blanket on your shoulders, and the remote in hand. You go through the movie selection your Netflix account, before debating whether or not if you should watch something else or just bury yourself underneath your sheets to avoid your up-incoming doom. 

You could binge-watch a random show for the time to go by quicker, or you could take one of your fifty milligram sleeping pills—which Jeongyeon gave you a while back. One of those suckers is enough to knock you out for the next twelve hours. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t really feel the need to do anything too drastic. You’re prepared to stay in for quite a few days. You’re well-stocked on food and you don’t need to go to the lab until the next week. Also, Coconut doesn’t need to go out, so that means you don’t have to go out. Had you gotten that cute Pomeranian from the shelter instead, you might’ve had to meet your soulmate sooner rather than later. 

You find yourself grimacing once more at the thought of having to meet your new soulmate. If the first one didn’t work out, what’s to stop the second one from doing just the same? Granted, you’ve interviewed a lot of couples and most worked out on the second try. Key term: most. 

There was that one lady who divorced, at least, three of her soulmates. The gods must have given up after the third try, because she ended up dying alone. You should’ve been left along, just like that lady. 

Jisoo is certainly thriving with her new soulmate—you can say whatever you want, but nothing’s stopping you from seeing all the godsforsaken photos on Facebook or Instagram. 

Nope. Nope, you’re not dealing with this. You’ve already covered up the timer with some bandage wrap (who knew that the first aid kit would come in handy) to prevent yourself from looking at it all night. Maybe if you sleep now, the would just reset back to five years. That sounds reasonable...right? 

No one has ever successfully avoided their soulmate. All throughout history, it shows that timers would just reset. You aren’t trying to avoid your soulmate forever—you’re just trying to avoid whoever your soulmate is now. You were fine with waiting for five years, or even ten. What are the gods thinking? You’re not ready for this. You should’ve been given a warning or something: all of this is just giving you a migraine. 

You shut off the TV and move yourself off the couch, despite Coconut’s protesting meows. You move towards the door and the windows, making sure they are securely locked. You might not trying to find your soulmate, but that doesn’t stop the gods from making them coming to you. Shame that there’s nothing you can do about the fire escape; that’s a lost cause. 

As you look out the window, you can easily spot out Bobby once again. What is it about today that you’re seeing him all over the place? He’s dressed in more casual war—compared to when you saw him in the elevator. He’s yelling and laughing with some of his friends in plain sight. 

“I’m meeting my soulmate today!” He yells. “Whatever happens, happens!” 

All of them start to chant like frat boys. “Bar hop! Bar hop! Bar hop!” 

Oh dear gods. 

You move yourself away from the window and go over your mental checklist again. After securing the locks one more time, you walk over to your bedroom and crawl into the full-sized bed, quickly making yourself familiar with your sheets. Coconut follows shortly after, jumping onto the bed and nuzzling his nose towards you. 

Reaching out, you pet him and scratch his chin, then you speak with a soft whisper. “Good night, Coco.” 

Someone’s in the living room. 

You’re trying to ignore it. 

There’s a crash, followed by a couple of swear words, which is followed by another crash. 

Coconut has woken up, meowing at the closed door that separates you from possibly experiencing life or death. You bury your head further into the pillow. This—this cannot be happening right now. 

You should’ve taken the sleeping pill. 

There’s another crash, followed by heavy footsteps, which are now right outside your bedroom door. 

That’s when you realize: you didn’t lock the bedroom door. That’s it. You’re going to die. 

You swiftly grab your phone from your nightstand and turn it on silent mode, before retreating back underneath the sheets. You can easily call the police if they actually come in, but what if it’s too late? 

You don’t bother poking your head out. Instead you cling onto the comforter and try to quiet down your breathing. Is it a burglar? A thief? Or worse? Could it be…? 

Meanwhile, Coconut moves himself off the bed and towards the corner, already losing interest in the odd noises. You should’ve gotten the dog. 

Your door opens and the footsteps get closer, eventually stopping at the edge of your bed. Your heart drops. What’s this person going to do? 

You grunt from the sudden weight being thrown on top of you. Because for some reason, this fool—this complete stranger—has laid himself on top of you. Well, technically, next to you, but his body is spread out—an arm and a leg lays on top of you. 

The familiar smell of alcohol hits your nose. That’s definitely vodka. 

This idiot is drunk. 

Your curiosity gets the best of you and you end up tugging the comforter down, taking a peek at the intruder. You’re met with the view of Bobby. His bangs dangle down, brushing softly against your forehead. Your eyebrows furrow: this can’t be right. 

He’s slightly sweaty. His skin looks like he’s shimmering. His eyelashes have an almost perfect curl to them. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is slightly opened, his natural pink lips are parted to let out his breath. Your heart pounds in your chest, flustered from the close proximity. 

You nudge him once.

He doesn’t wake up. 

You push him, nearly shoving him off your bed. He finally awakes, cracking an eye at you, only to shut it again with embarrassment written on his face. 

“Oh, shit,” he says. He laughs at himself. “I’m in the wrong apartment, aren’t I?” 

Your heart stops, feeling the tingle from your arm and the little chimes in your head. Your head spins and you rack your brain, trying to find the words to respond to him. Ironically enough, you can only think of the one phrase you should have been avoiding. “You need to get the fuck off of me.” 

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | four

> series masterlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: (2nd bts member to be revealed) x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut (to come)

words: 4.2k

warnings: implied sexual content, your friends are still extra, cussing / mature language, relationship issues, angst, making out, slight dry humping, you actually act on your hoe-ish thoughts because seokjinnie keeps testing you??

notes: 2nd member involved in this love triangle will be revealed next chapter and it’s actually gonna start getting messy. are you with me? 😈

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish​ @photographic-girl (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

A couple of days have passed and you were only getting more giddy as time passes. It sounds stupid as hell, and sometimes you can't help but curse yourself for having a crush on someone so unattainable. The thrill, though, is what excites you, and knowing that there's a possibility Jin may reciprocate the same feelings. Since he had placed his number in your phone, he had sent you random, occasional 'have a good day!' texts and smiley faces. Maybe it didn't help that he was only fueling the fire by sending you texts like this. You couldn't help but ponder on the thought that you had crossed his mind from time to time, and that my friends, was fucking attractive.

"Her head game was on point." Taehyung smirked and leaned back in his chair, making Ryujin roll her eyes at him.

"You're sick, no one asked about your night."

"Why do you sound so mad, sweetie?" He leaned closer to her.

"I'm not mad." She scooted her chair away from him. "Can you believe this right now?" She shot you a look, but you were too busy texting on your phone, responding to the messages you couldn't get to earlier.

[jin] 3:05pm: I hope your day has been treating you well. See you soon?

[y/n] 5:37pm: Been a little busy, but hasn't been bad. :) Excited for class!

You laughed at yourself because who even says 'Excited for class' like that? You were really playing yourself right now.

"Earth to Mr. Kim's mistress?" You shot Taehyung a look and immediately shoved his face away.

"Jeez, you've been glued to your phone so much lately. Did you find new dick, or something?" Ryujin asked as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

"No, god. I've just been trying to keep myself occupied." She shrugs and doesn't press any further. Thank god, because you hadn't told any of your friends how Jin comforted you that evening and how he had given you his personal number just to check in every now and then. You didn't plan on telling them anytime soon, only because they'd be dramatic about it and you didn't have the energy to calm the chaos that would ensue.

"Speaking of - have you guys started the assignment due next week for Mr. Kim's class?" Jimin kept his eyes on the work in front of him.

"No. I'll probably do that the day of." Taehyung says as he texts on his phone.

"I was going to ask him for help later."

"Were you now?" Jimin rose his eyebrow, shooting you a look.

"Yes, and it's only because I can't choose which topic to write about."

"Why don't you ask us?"

"Because this always ends up being an open-ended debate and the conversation ultimately ends with no decision made." Jimin nodded in agreement.

"Touché."

"Bat your eyelashes while you're at it, kay?" Ryujin giggles.

"You guys are free to join me."

"Mmm no thanks, I don't think I need any help right now." Jimin responds.

"Same. Besides, I'd rather not cockblock."

"Honestly so sick of you guys." You all end up packing your things to head to Jin's classroom, all four of you entering one by one and taking your seats near the front. Class goes by rather quickly, you and Jin stealing glances from time to time. Ryujin, Jimin and Taehyung offer to wait up for you near the library and you simply nod, letting them know you'll only take a quick minute to talk about the assignment. Once they've disappeared from the hallway corridor, you turn on your heels to make your way over to Jin at the front desk, where he's arranging his things and getting them together.

"Y/N, hey." He smiles at you, tilting his head to look at you from his stance. "What's up?"

"I uh, just wanted to ask for your opinion about the assignment. If.. you aren't busy?" He chuckled and shook his head.

"No, not at all. What's going on?"

"Well, I've just been having trouble deciding on a topic." You placed your things down.

"Alright, try me." He nods towards the whiteboard, signaling for you to scribble your ideas onto the board so he could help you map out your thoughts. You quietly walk over, grabbing the only black whiteboard marker available and start talking through your thoughts. He sits on the desk, arms crossed, watching you scribble on the board. He chimes in every now and then, either agreeing or disagreeing, and providing his honest opinion as to what might work best for the assignment.

"Mm, okay. I think that makes better sense." You step back and take a look at the things you've crossed out and circled, leaving you to finalize the topic for your assignment.

"Yeah, I think so." He stands and nods in agreement. You turn to look at him, only to realize how close in proximity your body was to his. His hands are tucked into his pockets while he looks down at you. Both of you don't move, regardless of how close you two are at the moment. You feel stuck, and the only option that crosses your mind is something you shouldn't even be thinking about. Yet, you still act on it. You find yourself on your tippy-toes laying a kiss on his plump lips, but you quickly pull away and gasp, realizing what you had done.

"I-I'm so sorry, I-" You stutter as you step back to try and quickly grab your things. "I gotta go." You dash out of the room, your heart beating through your chest. As soon as you were far as possible from his room, you slowed your pace to gather your breathing. You facepalmed so hard because what the fuck! You felt dumb as hell for acting the way you did, let alone for thinking his texts and all the attention even meant anything.

Way to fucking go, Y/N. You could feel how embarrassing next class will be already.

As soon as you spot your friends, you try to put on a smile and brush the thoughts out of your head when you see them waving you over. Jimin instantly throws his arm around your shoulder, helping you feel at ease as you momentarily forget about the events that just transpired.

"Ready? We're gonna go grab some pizza before heading home." You smiled at him.

"Yeah, I'm down."

Jin grabbed his things, feeling a little conflicted about what just happened. He knew this was something that shouldn't have happened, nor should it ever happen again. Yet, he wanted more of this feeling you gave him. He longed for it. He couldn't explain the feeling he got when he felt your lips against his, he just knew he was interested in more. It was bad as fuck, but it was the same thrill you felt that peeked his interest.

Jin pulled into the lot of him and Grace's house, seeing he was the first one home yet again. It wasn't a surprise to him anymore, and quite frankly, he was used to being home first all the time. It would have been a surprise if Grace was here before he was. Not gonna lie, after what happened, it makes him feel a little empty inside. He's starting to feel like he wanted more of you and to see you outside of campus grounds. He wanted your company and enjoyed your presence, inside of the classroom and even through simple things like text. It just made him happy, and like he was appreciated. Wanted.

Yeah, that quick. He was starting to crave you.

He kicked off his shoes by the door and changed into comfier clothes. He took some time to work out at their home gym before eating whatever leftovers were left in the fridge. He happily warms up his food and quickly gobbles it up, leaving the dishes in the sink for him to get to later. He hops into a hot, relaxing shower, letting the heat hit his back and relax him from all the stress he had been experiencing lately. It was so relaxing that he didn't even hear Grace shut their front door. He only found out he wasn't alone when he heard dishes being washed and slammed onto the dish rack and cabinet doors being slammed shut. He dried himself off a bit, before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading into the kitchen to see what the commotion was.

"Hey, you're home." He says with a smile on his face, but she continued to place dishes on the rack without looking at him.

"Yeah, and you couldn't even think to wash your dishes and clean up the kitchen?" His smile immediately turned into a frown when he realized Grace was far from being in a good mood. Over what? Dishes that he was eventually going to wash anyways?

"I was going to get to them."

"Jeez, Jin. I've had such a long day, the least you could do is help out and clean up after yourself." She glared at him.

"Woah, hey. I do my part around here. Just because I didn't do my dishes right away doesn't mean I don't do anything at all under this house."

"Hasn't seemed like it." She walked away, brushing him off completely. If it's one thing Jin could point out about his fiancé, it was the fact that she liked to project when she was upset. It was the one thing that drove him crazy, and the one thing he felt like couldn't be fixed. It was just in her nature, no matter how many times they've fought and argued about it. He tries to be patient and understanding. He tries to relate. Yes, I'm sorry you had a bad day. But just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you bring the negative energy into this house.

"That's not fair, Grace."

"Grow up, Jin." She snapped as she headed upstairs. "I'm going up to pack and head to bed." He continued to watch her, appalled at the attitude she was throwing tonight. He really couldn't understand why this was happening over some dishes. He didn't wanna be here right now, and he wasn't going to deal with this shit. To be honest, he was feeling a little relieved knowing he'd get some space from her when she flies to New York for a week. She had some work to do for the opening of her restaurant down there, plus some related projects for her book.

He heads upstairs to throw on some jeans, a hoodie and a hat before passing Grace in their walk-in closet.

"Off for a drive again, huh?" She says as she keeps her eyes on the luggage laid out in front of her. It's sad that Grace knows what Jin does whenever he doesn't wanna deal with her attitude. But, no matter how many times he's tried to communicate and talk it out, it never mattered to her.

"Yeah, because it doesn't seem like you can communicate properly tonight."

"And how is a drive supposed to help?" She turns to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. She scoffs before returning her attention back to the clothes she was packing into her luggage. "Perfect. Run away from our issues, Jin. It's what you do best." He shook his head and sighed.

"I'm not doing this with you tonight, Grace. Not over some dishes that were eventually going to get washed and fixed." He walked out, but turned back on his heel to finish off his thoughts. "You know, I really wanted to have a nice night with you. Pop some wine and put on a movie, just to enjoy being in each other's presence since it feels like we haven't done that in a really long time. But, so be it." He threw his hands up in defeat and continued to walk out. He really did want to try, though. Part of him felt like he needed to because he was probably just longing for that attention from his fiancé, which is why he had been feeling the way he had been about you. Maybe it would have helped him brush it off like it was a silly, little crush. However, tonight just amplified those feelings he had for you and he wanted nothing more but to just see you and hear your voice.

He lowers the brim of his cap as he walks to his car, instantly starting it up and driving off. At first, he was conflicted. He wasn't sure if he was making the right decision or not, or if his judgment was cloudy. But something in him tweaked and made him say, fuck it. He was tired, and for once, he just wanted to feel wanted.

You sat on your living room floor, putting together a vision board for yourself. A ton of magazine cut outs and printouts laid alongside of you, waiting to be organized onto the small white board. You had been rearranging the layout for quite some time, feeling a little frustrated at the perfectionist in you. This definitely could have been quicker if you hadn't picked at the fine details too much. It was nearing 10:30pm; after you and your friends had ate pizza together, you all went your separate ways, tired from this week's events already. You especially didn't want to linger around, the thought of you kissing Jin in the classroom still haunting you. You felt your phone vibrating off to the side, signaling a call coming in.

Speak of the devil.

You hesitate, afraid that this had to do with what happened earlier and to be frank, you weren't sure if you were ready to deal with the repercussions just yet. The call ends, but a text notification pops up at the top of your screen.

[jin] 10:27pm: Are you free right now?

[y/n] 10:28pm: Sorry, yeah I am. What's up?

[jin] 10:29pm: Can we meet up?

You stare at your phone, unsure if you should take the opportunity to see him. It could mean a lot of things, or it could mean nothing. It could be about the kiss, or it couldn't be. But, you can't help but feel a little guilty that he had been there for you when you needed someone and here you were, contemplating if you should blow him off.

[y/n] 10:32pm: Sure. Is everything okay?

[jin] 10:32pm: I think, kind of just need some good company.

[y/n] 10:33pm: Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll come. Just let me know where.

You watch as he drops his location into the message, and it's not too far from where you live. You actually are quite familiar with the area to know that he's sending you up to a view that overlooks the Bay Bridge. You and your friends used to go there often during undergrad, just to eat edibles and eat hella junk food. Those were the days. You all quickly outgrew it though.

The drive up is a little scary, with only a few street lights posted as you drive up the hill. You catch a glimpse of Jin's car, being that he's already leaning against it, facing the view. You pull up into the empty spot next it, taking a deep breath and recollecting your thoughts before stepping out. Whatever it is, just be honest. That kiss was because you wanted to kiss him, but perhaps you misread the vibe about everything.

Not perhaps. You for sure misread the vibe about everything. He's fucking engaged. There was no way.

"I brought you brownie." Is the first thing you say as you hand him a ziploc with a huge brownie square. "There's no weed in it or anything, I promise it's clean." He chuckles as he takes it from you. "I just figured you could use a picker upper since you seemed like you might've need it."

"Thank you." His trunk had been open, so he takes a seat and invites you to sit next to him. You leave a bit of space just to be sure, since you already crossed your boundaries earlier and you weren't even sure how that was gonna play in to tonight.

"So, what's on your mind?" You dread asking him the question but you knew there was a reason he brought you out here.

"I, uh. Just had a pretty tough day and wanted to surround myself around good company." He turned to look at you.

"Oh, so I made the good company list?" You chuckle.

"Yeah, you did." He looks back out at the view. You examine him, his body language still a little tense from whatever he had just experienced.

"Was it Grace?" You ask softly and he nods in return.

"We've just been having issues. It's no biggie."

"No biggie, huh? Then why are we out here looking at the bay bridge?" He chuckles again. You think it's cute the way his dimples under his eyes pop out when he smiles and laughs.

"Touché. I mean, what if I just wanted to hang out with someone who could cheer me up?"

"Wow, then that's a lot of pressure on me." You laugh. "I can already tell something's wrong. You were there for me, so I just want you to know that I'm all ears." He sighed.

"It's kind of dumb? Maybe not? Me and Grace just haven't been the same for awhile now."

"How so?"

"We're just distant. We haven't done things together like we used to because we're both busy and so wrapped up with work."

"Jin." You smile shyly because this couldn't be a serious excuse. You always need to try and make things work! "You know being busy shouldn't be an excuse, right?"

"I know, I know." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it's difficult to explain. I question if we're still in love with each other or if we're just sticking to this because we're comfortable."

"Deep down, I know you still love and care for her."

"I do. It's been hard to show that these past months. I guess.. what I'm trying to say is that it's been easy to focus more on the negatives than the positives. There have been more negatives than positives."

"Why don't you sit her down and talk about this?"

"I can't. I try, but I really can't. She's always coming home in a nasty mood all the time."

"Well, she might have a lot to balance on her plate. Not everyone approaches things the same way and if you know Grace easily shuts people out when she's overwhelmed or stressed, then I think you just need to continue supporting her by simply being there for her."

"I know." He looks down at his hands.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking. I hear you loud and clear though." He smiles at you toothlessly.

"Try talking to her. Work it out. I know she's important to you."

"She is but," He shakes his head once more. "I can't shake off this feeling."

"What feeling?"

"It's going to sound stupid."

"Nothing is ever stupid." He simply looked at you before responding.

"Earlier, in the classroom—" Fuck, you thought. You thought you had just gotten lucky tonight and that you both had put it past you so that you could move on without ever mentioning it. But half of you knew you'd still have to confront your mistake either way. Nothing was ever that easy.

"Jin, I'm so sorry, I didn't think about—"

"I didn't want you to stop." He spits out, causing you to stop mid-sentence. Your eyes widened after you had just registered what he had said. Was he fucking playing with you right now? This shit really couldn't be real.

"W-what?"

"I can't shake off this feeling because of you and as bad as it sounds, I really don't want that to go away."

"Jin." You say softly. "You should really work this out with Grace. This feeling is just temporary and you know it is because she's your fiancé. What happened earlier was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened." It kind of sucks, but it's true. You don't really know why you did what you did and what you wanted out of it. You knew what this would entail and it would be too messy. People would just end up getting hurt left and right. It would be a domino effect.

"Was it though?"

"I'm not trying to get in between you two." You beat around the bush with your response.

"Then, what did you want out of that earlier?" He stares at you. You can't help but feel yourself melt at the way he's eyeing you and the way he's actually teasing the fuck out of you with his piercing eyes.

"I don't know." He continues to stare, but this time his face is edging closer to yours.

"You can't even tell me straight up that it was nothing." He says, almost at a whisper. Your knees are starting to buckle beneath you and although you knew you needed to stop this, you couldn't see yourself doing it right at this moment.

"We shouldn't be doing this." You whisper, his lips inches away from yours at this point.

"Then why aren't you stopping me, Y/N?" No response. Before you knew it, your eyes were shut as your lips pressed against his. The feeling of his lips sent chills down your spine, his hand now tugging you closer to his body. You waste no time straddling his lap, deepening the kiss as your hands rest on his face and your hips grind against his. God, he was so fucking attractive and everything about him drove your ass crazy. You wanted him.

But you couldn't have him.

"Stop, stop." You edged your head back, reality settling in once his hands start to dip inside your sweats. "We really shouldn't be doing this." You climb off of him and gather your things.

"Y/N, wait."

"Jin." You turn to look at him. "Listen to me. We would never work."

"I wouldn't say never—"

"Look, this is already difficult as is and I'm trying really hard not to make this even more complicated for anyone. At the end of the day, you're still with Grace. You're still engaged to Grace." You emphasized. "I can't get in between you two, and I don't want to hurt her." How in the fuck did things escalate so quickly? How did we get here?

"I know that, and I know you don't. But you can't tell me that you didn't feel anything just now."

"I'm not saying that I didn't. I did, I-I do." You stuttered on your own words. "But I shouldn't be acting on it and neither should you. You should really focus on working things out in your relationship. I know deep down you love her and want to make this work."

"That's the thing, Y/N. I don't know how else I can make this work with her. I've ran out of options."

"Jin, you planned to marry her! You do understand that you can't just give up on someone like that, especially your future wife."

"As much as I appreciate this and understand where you're coming from, you don't know our relationship."

"I just don't want you to give up on her. I want you to try for her, not just because I told you so." He can see how serious things have turned, and  he knew you were right. This would be complicated. But damn, was he undeniably attracted to you and he loved the feeling he got from all of this.

"I-" He sighs. "You make me feel things that I haven't felt in a long time."

"You have your life planned out already, and so does Grace. You obviously saw a life and a future with her, and that's what you should continue building. I don't even know how to get from point A to point B in life and I still have shit to learn. Like-like changing car lights or how to do a fucking oil change by myself! I'm a mess. I'm not the one you should be thinking about."

"I don't care about that." He spits out as he gently grabs your wrist and turns you to face him.

"Don't make this harder than it already is." With all this shit going on, you still found yourself wanting him the same way you did earlier. Looking at him made you want to do unspeakable things and it didn't help that he gave you the green light to do so.

The temptations.

"I'm not trying to."

"We should really keep our distance from each other, okay? You need to work things out and I'm going to give you the space to do so."

"Fuck, Y/N. I really don't want that."

"I'm sorry." You whisper as you break free from his grip and get back into your car. You hear him groan, causing you to cry to yourself as you drive off and get back home. One mistake turned everything upside down, and now everything was suddenly 10x more complicated than it ever was in the beginning. You couldn't help but curse yourself and blame yourself for letting this happen the way it did.

But shit is done. The mistake happened. There was no taking it back.

You just needed to give him space to get over it, and that would be the end of it. Easy.

Or so you assume.

[smilingformoney]

Platinum Diamond Scene: Shane’s Dorm Party

Shane: Damn, Cadence, you look great! Loving the hair. Is this your version of a Sasha Fierce alter ego? You: Thanks, Shane. Man, I haven’t been to a college house party since that dead week trip we did when we were seniors. You: Do grad students go hard? Shane: I guess we’ll have to see.

After a quick subway ride, you glide through the doors of Shane’s dorm and, wow, the party is already in full swing. Dozens of students fill the space, music blasts in the speakers, and red cups clutter the ping-pong table. Shane: So, what do you think? Is this as cool as Propaganda? You: Oh, much cooler. I feel like I’m right back in my element.

You: Come on, let’s… -Play a drinking game.

You and Shane grab a couple cups of some really potent punch and join a circle of students on the couches. Film Student: Oh hey, Shane! We’re playing ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Shane: Damn, what a high school throwback. Film Student: What can we say? We’re feeling nostalgic tonight. You: I can get behind that. Film Student: I’ll start. Never have I ever… been naked in public! You don’t take a sip… but you definitely see Shane take one. Shane: The band trip to Florida, sophomore year of high school. You: Wait, the one where we were staying in that motel with the gross shared bathrooms? Shane: That’s the one. I got out of the shower, and someone had taken my towel… Shane: So I just had to sprint all the way back to my room, covering myself up, praying no one would see. You double over laughing, along with half the circle. Film Student: All right, moving on. Never have I ever had a dream about someone in this room. You: (I mean, Shane and I have known each other since forever. I bet he’s popped into a few dreams over the years.) You take a drink, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Shane do the same. You: (Wait. Has he been dreaming about me… or some other person here?)

-Meet some of your new friends.

After grabbing drinks, you and Shane head into a far corner, where a group of film students are in a heated debate. Film Student: First all, Return is definitely a stronger film than Empire, and secondly… Film Student: Are you kidding? If it weren’t for the Kubrickian cinematography in Empire, we wouldn’t even talk about Star Wars! Film Student: Who watches Star Wars for the cinematography? If that’s what you care about, just watch 2001. Film Student: The final act of Return of the Jedi is so morally complex! It nods at Kurosawa, and-- Shane: Hey, guys! This is my beset friend from back home, um… Sam. Film Student: Wait, Sam? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned a Sam before. Film Student: Yeah, but you’re always talking about someone named Cadence. You: Oh, is that right? Film Student: Yeah, he never shuts about her. It’s always, ‘This one time, me and my friend Cadence…’ Film Student: ‘My friend Cadence is always saying…’ Film Student: We’ve actually started calling him ‘Myfriend-Cadence’ as a nickname, because he says it so much. Shane: Wow, would you look at my suddenly empty glass! Time for a refill. Nice to see you guys. You and Shane turn away from his friends. You giggle and elbow him in the ribs. You: Aww, Shane! I didn’t know you missed me that bad. Shane: Good thing you’re here, and I don’t have to miss you anymore.

-Talk about what’s going on with you.

You find a quiet corner of the dorm and sip on your drinks as you watch the party. You: So do you guys host parties here often? Shane: Here and there. Shane: But I spend so much time in class, or trying to get work experience. Shane: And then when I do have free time, I want to use it for… you know. Sleeping. Eating. You: Aww, Shane. One month into grad school and already working yourself to the bone. Shane: I mean, I’m having the time of my life! The people are amazing. You: Isn’t it hard, though? Balancing everything? Shane: It’s hard, but it’s the good kind of hard. Shane: When you really care about someone-- Shane: I mean, something… Even when it’s hard, it still feels good. It still feels rewarding. You: Wait… someone? Shane, oh my god, have you met someone already? Tell me, tell me. Shane: Um, no, I just… I misspoke. Let’s get another drink!

You and Shane are making your way back to the fridge for another round of drinks, when suddenly… Speakers: Don’t know who you think you are, but I know what I’ve seen… Shane: Oh my god, Cadence, they’re playing your song from the Once In A Million finale! You: No way! You watch as the students around you sing along, arm-in-arm, raising their cups. Film Student: SO WHY DO I STILL TRY TO BE WITH YOUUU? +5 Film Student: WHEN I KNOW IN MY HEART WHAT YOU SAY ISN’T TRUE! A literal shiver runs down your spine. Film Student: This is my new favourite song! Film Student: Right? I think it was the best performance on One In A Mil, maybe ever. Shane: You hearing this, Cadence? You: Wow, I can’t believe it! You: It feels amazing to hear about it while being anonymous! Shane: I’m sure you needed the break. All around you, the party breaks out into people dancing to your song…

You: (I should…) -Slow dance with Shane.

You: May I have this dance? Putting on an overly formal accent, you place your hand out for Shane to take. Shane: Really? I mean, I know I’m not the best dancer, but… You: Come on, Shane. You tore up the floor at our senior prom. Shane: Then… Of course, m’lady. Shane gives you this shy, stupidly cute grin, and he puts his hands on your waist, and… Oh, god. You are feeling feelings. You are feeling all kinds of feelings. You: (Get a grip, Cadence! This is Shane! This is your best friend! You’ve seen him eat Play-Doh!) Shane leans forward, tilting his forehead against yours. Shane: I’m so glad you’re finally here, Cadence. I’ve missed you so much. You: Yeah? I’ve missed you too, Shane…

-Break out into our choreo from when we were kids!

You: Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our iconic choreography set to the Junior High Musical soundtrack. Shane: I’m offended you even insinuated that. Right in sync, even though you haven’t practiced in years, you do the moves, including lots of stomping and clapping. Shane: Hey, I feel like the moves translate over to the song really well! You: Yeah, it’s almost like we planned it this way.

As the song comes to a close… You: Man, who would’ve thought we’d be dancing to my song one day. Shane: I did. I’ve always believed you could do it, Cadence.

Later, you climb onto the fire escape together. You let out a low whistle, taking in the view. You: Okay, NoHo, you win. Shane: I bet the apartment the label put you up isn’t too shabby, right? You: It’s amazing. You: I just wish our neighbourhoods were a bit closer. This city’s so sprawling. Shane: Hey, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Shane: We’ve gotten into too much trouble to break the tradition now. You: Yeah, we got away with so much nonsense when we were kids.

You: Do you remember that time… -We got married in front of our teddy bears?

Shane: Oh my god, yes! Mr. Fuddlewuddle was the pastor! You: And Barbie was my maid of honour! So kind of her to be in our wedding party. You: Even though we beheaded her and amputated her plastic limbs. Shane: Poor Barbie. Suffering in the name of science. You: You know, I hate to break it to you, Shane, but I don’t think the ceremony was legally binding. You: I mean, unless Mr. Fuddlewuddle went out and got ordained without us knowing… Shane: Regardless, the reception was great. Orange Kool-Aid. Oreos. Mac and cheese with little cut-up hot dogs, courtesy of your dad. You: Oh, yeah. We were party planners extraordinaire.

-We had to raise an egg as our child?

Shane: Yes! Our little John Jacob Jingleheimer-Schmidt! You: Can’t believe we were advanced enough to give our egg a hyphenated last name. Shane: And we made it the whole week without putting one single crack in that little guy! You: He really reeked by the end of the assignment, though. You: And we rode our bikes out to the overpass just to drop him on some unsuspecting vehicle. Shane: Man, it was so hot out, too. We watched our son fry to death, right there on the car’s sunroof. You: Okay, but we were really good parents up until we threw him into traffic.

You: I had an awesome time tonight, Shane. We need to do this again sometime. Shane: Yeah, for sure. I know you’re super busy all the time, but… You: But I’ll make time for you. I’ll always make time for you.

You: (I should…) -Get closer.

Standing look out over the city, you rest your head on Shane’s shoulder. He puts a warm, comforting arm around you, and you watch the cars go by. You: Shane… You tilt your head up to look into his brown eyes, your face only inches apart. Shane: Cadence, I- Suddenly, you hear a resounding crash, and the music cuts short. Grad Student: Ooooowww! Shane: Oh, shoot! Looks like a keg stand gone bad. I better go handle that. You: I should head back anyway. I have an early studio session tomorrow. Shane goes back inside to handle the situation, and you begin to pack up your things. You: (What is happening? Today’s been so wild…)

-Keep watching the view together.

Standing looking out over the city, you watch the cars go by. You: I wonder where we’ll both go next… Shane: Wherever it is, I can’t wait to find out.

[thelonelytraveler11]

Is this really the best I can do?!

It's been three years since I've done any form of research. I haven't worked in almost three years. Just in case anyone's wondering, yes, I filled out job applications (a lot, like ~250 before I gave up). For the past couple years, I've been living off my savings, the little bit of money I get from my family, and the little bit of money I get from having part time jobs. My work experience since dropping out has been pretty dismal (on average), I haven't been able to hold down a job that gave an appreciable amount of money for longer than 3 months at a time without being fired or being so miserable that I just said "fuck it" and quit.

I understand the concern some may have. You may consider it my fault for being unemployed. Quitting a job that I'm miserable while doing may seem irrational or irresponsible, but speaking as a person who spent almost the entirety of his college years being miserable, I can say with all honesty that being broke is better than being miserable. I envy those that can’t seem to comprehend my way of thinking, because that probably means they have a very good life. I wouldn't want to work in an environment that negatively affects my emotional state for 4 decades anyways. Having disposable income isn’t more important than my well being. Having a job I actually enjoy doing is very important to me because I don't have many sources of happiness in my life.

I'm kind of a loner. I don't have a strong relationship with any of my relatives and I don't have friends anymore (and even more troubling, I don't care to have those types of relationships anymore). The only potential source of happiness is my job. I don't foresee me failing in love or developing a close relationship with anyone. If the current trend continues, I think its more probable that it doesn’t happen.

I feel numb most of the time and when I do feel something, I'm usually thinking about my college days and that something is usually anger. It honestly was my biggest regret, going to the University of Illinois. Sometimes I wished I never went to college. Literally the only thing that was even remotely good about my college experience was my grades, everything else sucked. Looking back, I wish I went back to working at CVS after I graduated from HS.

In the alternate timeline, I probably would have been better off in the long run (very little stress, no debt, live rent free at my mom's house for a couple of years after graduation while working a presumably full time job which would enable me to save up a fair amount of cash before moving out). Instead, I came away with nothing. My college education was completely worthless, I reaped no benefits from being a degree recipient. All I did was waste 7 years of my life and thousands of other people’s dollars studying stuff that ultimately wouldn't matter. If I were a benefactor for the UIUC department of chemistry, I would be pissed to hear my story because that means my money isn't being put to good use, especially if I added into one of the scholarships that was awarded to me.

So, I know what your wondering, why am I writing this post? Well, I was trying to get ride time with CFD and I called for a specific person that wasn't in. Someone took a message and wrote my name down as Joel Dennison. Dennison was the last name of the NMR guy at UCI. That got me thinking about my college days and how I hated basically everyone. I caught myself looking through emails and for the most part, the more I read, the more I remembered, the more enraged I got. Now that's one sure fire way to put me in a bad mood, get me thinking about the bad ol' days. I bet many of the people I went to grad school with are enjoying their careers, while I was completely forgotten (and if they're not enjoying them, well at least they have them).

I’ve always wondered why were the other students so complicit? Is racism really that prevalent? Is there something else going on? See, it's one thing to not say anything while they were still students because it runs the risk of them being treated like I was treated. But to not even offer a helping hand even after their careers were established, knowing what they know, is un-fucking-real.

I never really felt welcomed in chemistry. People seemed to be more in love with the idea of me. I noticed the longer I stayed, the worse I was treated. At U of I, it was .... kinda bad. I experienced a form a discrimination where I would have written essentially the same answer as my lighter counterparts but received lower grades (slightly lower, but still). People assumed I did well in certain classes because the professor "liked me" (pretty sure no one at U of I liked me much). People also made statements that are crazy racist and then tried to pass them off as jokes. I fucking hated life in Champaign-Urbana.

SIDE NOTE: the following story doesn't necessarily reflect the chemists, but it does represent a subset of the student body at U of I. So, I'm sitting in the cafeteria with three dudes I already knew and some guy from the next table looks over to me and says "Sorry, if I offended you". I calmly replied "what did you say?" And Oh....My....God.... the look of utter fear was plastered all over his face. I said, "What did you say?", again, calmly. I can not stress enough that I was visibly calm throughout this entire situation. And then I noticed he was shivering, I figured I would warm up a lil bit by using my hot ass breath, so I repeated the question louder and slower (you know, to give the guy's body time to come to thermal equilibrium), again.......calmly. He was still frozen in fear. So now I am mentally gearing up to jump across this table to snatch this little boy's neck out from under him. And then something miraculous happened, my tunnel vision broke down and I realized someone was calling me. It was Jon (one of the kids I was sitting with) telling me to drop it...so I did......so, yeah, that's the story of how I almost got kicked out of U of I for snatching the neck out from under some little white kid during sophomore year. 


But there was one instance of me being the butt of racist jokes in chemistry that I can remember. Then UIUC grad student, John Overcash (who I believed worked for Ken Suslick), made mention of me "cooking crack up in the kitchen" on more than one occasion. Apparently, since I was a black chem major (that specialized in organic chemistry) I must have been a drug dealer beforehand. Or maybe he thought I was a drug dealer then....who knows...

To make matters worst, people have used the stuff other people made up to put themselves a head of me. Senior year I had an interview with eli lilly. My interview was at 9 am and there was one person interviewing before me at 8 am. The 8 am slot was taken by one Joseph Cullen (a fellow undergrad). During the end of his interview , I could vaguely hear what was said, but it sounded like Cullen told the interviewers that I was a drug dealer. The door opens up, the interviewer shoots me a look and goes into the room where my interviewers were and talks to them. Meanwhile Cullen walks past me. I give him a thumbs up and he walks away chuckling to himself. These are not good signs. I can’t say for certain that these people really believed I was a drug dealer, but their behavior suggested it. It was their reaction to me saying the phrase "nice white crystalline product", that’s what suggested it. I was describing the physical characteristics of the product from a reaction I ran and it just so happen to be a white crystalline solid (...smh). What I want to know why were these people so quick to believe Cullen? Yes, what Cullen said could be true (which it wasn't) but couldn't it also be true that he's trying to give himself a better chance of getting a job by undercutting the competition?

I wish I got a job offer as an undergrad. I honestly didn't want to go to grad school, but I had no other choice. Visiting grad schools was a whole ordeal, I was told in one way or another that I wasn’t welcomed ... at every school. At Scripps I was told explicitly that I wasn’t good enough to be there by complete strangers (how exactly would they know given that they never assessed my ability to think ... who knows). At Indiana University, I was placed in a hotel room by myself because they heard I slept naked. At UCI, I was told that I wouldn’t make it pass my first year (again, by complete strangers). At Caltech, I was told I didn’t belong because I was a drug dealer (or that I look like a drug dealer, apparently).

Now, I ask you, how do drug dealers look exactly? What are they’re defining characteristics? I ask because if you asked someone who lived in Champaign-Urbana for four years to imagine what a drug dealer looks like, they might imagine a srcawny white boy in a frat (not someone that looks like me). What makes the Caltech visit even weirder was that Prof. Sarah Reisman was just standing by, staring at me while I was being told I didn’t belong (by the help, you know, the people who was serving drinks). It was like she was trying to read my facial expressions to get a sense of what type of person I was (or am). Or was she using the help as a proxy to express her own thoughts (I’m not sure)? Was she waiting for me to “defend myself”? 
How would I be able to do that exactly?

SIDE NOTE: it’s impossible to defend yourself when there’s no evidence for or against whatever accusations there may be. It all comes down to what people choose to believe. The help has already chosen to believe I’m a drug dealer (or at least look like one) and I’m willing to bet there’s really nothing I can really do about.

No matter how I analyze the situation, Reisman’s behavior does not reflect positively on her as a person. I’m not sure if she knows this, but she was the primary reason I had to not go to Caltech. I found her behavior to be very off-putting and I got the sense that she didn’t really want me to go to school there. On top of that there was talk of her wanting to have (oral) sex. 


DISCLAIMER: I am effectively asexual, I don’t have sex ... with anyone ... or anything (yes, I actually needed to say both).

Now, I didn’t believe the talk when I first heard it because I thought there was no way a self-respecting, competent professor would admit to wanting to engage in a sexual relationship with a perspective student ... this is what I choose to think. However, the more I heard of her desires to have (oral) sex, the more I believed it. But I never fully accepted the rumors as the truth until my first year at UCI. Reisman came to Irvine for a talk and as always almost all the Organic students showed up. Before the event, I was sitting at the small table with another grad student in my year, her name was Beth R. (I don’t know how to spell her last name and I’m not going to try to google it). Beth ended up mentioning how pretty Reisman looked .... I “mmmhmmm”ed her. I could hear the chatter going on behind me, Reisman seemed mildly disappointed that I didn’t agree. Beth soothed her ill feelings by saying that I didn’t disagree. After the event, I was talking to Prof. Scott Rychnovsky and Reisman came up in the conversion. This was the final nail in the coffin that made me believe the rumors were true. It wasn’t the fact that he said she would’ve blown me, it was the fact that he said it soooo enthusiastically. He was as enthused as a person could possibly be in a professional/academic setting. No one should that enthused by the thought of a man getting his dick sucked as much as Rychnovsky was by the thought of Reisman putting my dick in her mouth, no one. It was kinda weird. 


The thought this woman hocking loogies on my dick tip, and imagining the sensation of warm saliva slowly rolling down my shaft (as I quote lines from the movie, Shaft (the Samuel L. Jackson version...obviously)) as I knock my head back, praying to god that I don’t come away from this situation with paper cuts (she has thin lips) just to look back down after noticing she paused just so she could fill the waves from my pulsating erection and make eye contact as she goes deeper and increases the pace eventually moving to the point where she starts straggling my balls and moaning like Lady Gaga singing a lullaby to baby while stroking my hard cock until I cum for her as Nicole Nava sits beside her while taking notes shouldn’t be even remotely amusing.....TO ANYONE...EVER!!!!!! But apparently to Rychnovsky, it was. It was at that moment I never wanted to be affliated with Caltech as long as Reisman was there. If Caltech and Illinois were the only two places that offered me jobs after finishing the PhD, I’d have to change careers.


Okay, so here’s the thing. I don’t really view professors as people. When I was a student, they were more like encyclopedias that could talk to me. They simply took the form of a human, kinda like a barbie doll. They’re anatomically incorrect, they lack genitalia, so they don’t have a gender. I honestly, believed this. One time, during senior year, I walked in the third floor bathroom in RAL and I saw Prof Steven Zimmerman taking piss. My face immediately screws all the way up, my inside voice says “How is he standing up and taking a piss when he doesn’t have a dick?”.....I thought that....I literally thought that....I shit you not. Just so you know, it wasn’t just Zimmerman, it was every professor. The women are doubly dickless, in my mind Suzanne Blum was like —(Mia Khalifa) because she has negative two dicks inside of her at all times.

DISCLAIMER: just so we’re clear, I’m NOT alluding to the fact that Blum has to get people to agree to have sex with her. Nor am I alluding to the assertion she’ll probably be nothing more than an afterthought for literally anyone. I’m merely trying to stress the fact that I don’t think of professors as people, but as encyclopedias that can talk to me.

I was made to feel unwlecomed at every school I visited. Why? Well, you'll have to ask them. I can honestly say that by the time graduation (from U of I) came around I didn't believe that i would have a successful career as a chemist, but I put everything into this so I couldn't just leave...

Grad school was even worst because on top of being the black kid, I was also the social pariah. The other students did a real good of making me feel unwelcomed. So much so that after two weeks of living in Irvine I stopped trying to make friends. No one seemed interested in being cool with me (I'm basing this off people's behavior ... obviously). And if some of them were, the way they showed it was so unique that I couldn't even recognize it as a sincere attempt to get my attention.

I also experienced some the same stuff I did when I was at U of I. Namely, instructors not giving me what I earned. In Dave VanVraken’s class I always received the second highest score on the exams. The really curious thing is that no one knows who received the top score. Once, when I asked to see the printed out distribution, the TA refused to show me (why?). I'm willing to bet that single point ahead of me was a dummy point. In Liz Jarvo’s class, when the first exam came around, we found out the high score was a 83. Who got the high score?...no one knows, but when I received my test the number 38 was written on (Also note I just so happen to get the same score as the other kid from U of I). At first, I was puzzled and glanced over to Peg (the TA). She sees my score, turns to Jarvo and says "he knows he didn't get that low". While I don't remember Jarvo’s exact words, she stated in some way that I would come to her and argue my case for a higher grade. So, here's the thing. I shouldn't have to defend myself or argue with you to ensure that I'm treated like everyone else. It should be a given. 


From what I hear the reason why I was treated this way has something to do with them not wanting me to "talk stuff" to the other students. 


Okay, so where is this coming from? I ask because I’ve been me long enough to know their opinion of what I’m like isn’t actually based off me. If they actually talked to my fellow classmates, the most common thing you’d probably hear is that I’m quiet. So either these people are just making up stuff to justify treating me how they want to treat me or my classmates are liars. I’m not really the type to talk about my grades (or really anything) unless the topic is explicitly brought up in conversation (and this is assuming I feel like talking at all). You can dress it up however you want, but treating me like a second class student for any reason solely reflects poorly on you (it gives no indication as to what I’m like). There were instances like this in half the classes I took. Some, admittedly were a smaller deal than others. In Vanderwal’s class I got marked off once because I didn’t draw both arrows in a mechanism that included a homolytic cleavage. For those that don’t know, if a homolytic cleavage occurs and you show one electron going in one direction, it is assumed that the other electron goes in the opposite direction and therefore does not need to be explicitly stated (minor, but mildly annoying). In polymer chemistry (taught by Aaron Esser-Khan), we had one assignment where we needed to propose something that wasn’t in the primary literature. I proposed a polymerization based off a derivative of the Hiyama coupling. Khan’s critique was that since it wasn’t already in the primary literature, it probably wasn’t a good idea ... really?! And don’t even get me started on spec because that spec TA was sketchy as fuck. He intentionally told me the wrong due date for a homework assignment and I’m pretty sure he shaved a couple points off one of my exams...

Okay, so these experiences are only a subset of the shitty things I experienced as a UCI student. But do you know what made life at UCI worst than life at U of I? My research advisor (Suzanne Blum)....and to a slightly lesser extent my fellow group members. Over the years I grew to hate them. I was lied about, I had a homework assigns hidden behind water coolers (Darius Faizi), I’ve had the nitrogen lines removed from air sensitive reactions (Darius Faizi, Suzanne Blum), I had products from reactions switch out for reagent alcohol (it’s a mixture of ethanol, methanol, and isopropanol) (Josh Hirner), I’ve had septums removed from reaction mixtures (Josh Hirner), I’ve had people try to placate me with sex (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people try to use the fact that I was in an agitated state to get something they wanted (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people turn on the indoor lights in my car in an effort to drain my battery while I’m allowing them to use my car to practice driving so they can get a U.S. driver’s license (Muhammed Al-Amin), I’ve had people ask questions just so they can not listen to the answer (Chao Zheng, Drew), I’ve experienced asking people for help just so they can not even try to help brainstorm what the answer could be (Darius Faizi, Kim Tu), I helped others brain storm shortcomings for a proposal, just to catch an attitude when they realize I didn’t catch everything the first time around (Quinn Easter). 


SIDE NOTE: To provide context, Quinn asked me to look through a synthetic route in his proposal that he was intending to present in his advancement to candidacy exam. There was something I didn’t immediately see but did bring up during a group when he was giving a practice presentation. He became visibly upset and mentioned he thought I was trying to make him look bad. If I was really trying to make you look bad, I wouldn’t have told you anything, so that you would’ve made the same mistakes when it actually mattered. Quinn, you’re an idiot.  


l’ve had people call me after I already dropped out and given up on chemistry from a redacted telephone number claiming to be an official representative of UCI calling me in an effort to get my address (Suzanne Blum, Ashley Davis), and I’ve had the experience where I ask for information pertinent to group website maintenance and they act like I’m hitting on them (Adena).

SIDE NOTE: 
This is something that always amused/offended me, having  someone assume I’m attracted to them because I acknowledged their existence. It’s funny because because they have the audacity ... but it’s also offensive because the operating assumption is that I don’t have standards, which couldn’t be further from the truth. (They seem to make a lot of faulty assumptions)

What was this experience suppose to teach me? How was I supposed to become a better person or scientist because of my affiliation with the group/university? Me coming to Irvine and working for Blum was a total waste of my time. I’m not entirely sure what her deal was, but it seemed she had a preconceived notion of who I was. No matter what type of relationship we have (or suppose to have) this will cause problems where there shouldn’t be. 


Is the request that someone’s opinion of you is actually based on you too much to ask for? Because I feel it’s a basic request that most people should be able to easily do. The contemptuous treatment did subside with time (mostly because I avoided talking to other students when ever possible) but it never really stopped. Why did it start to begin with? I’m willing to bet the only things they don’t like about me has everything to do with me reacting to the way they treat me.  Again, I have to ask, is racism really that prevalent?


Then one day, I started getting so fed up with life that I decided I needed an escape, even if it’s only for a couple weeks. So, I started planning a trip to Europe. I worked hard in the weeks coming up to the trip. I was trying to finish my entire project before I left (sadly, I didn’t, but I tried). Things were looking on the up and up. Before I left, Blum even said I was meeting her expectations, that was the nicest thing she ever said to me (it was the nicest thing anyone at UCI has ever said to me). I went off on my trip, and during the middle of it I received an email essentially telling me that my time at UCI was finished. Why? I still don’t know. 3 years later and I still don’t know why my career was ended before it was even given a chance to start.  It’s hard to move on with your life when you don’t have closure. It’s really hard to move on when you still have to live with consequences of other people’s actions.

 SIDE NOTE: I got the sense sometimes that Suzanne Blum did not really care about her job 100% of the time. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. It’s like, either she truly didn’t understand the importance of her role (as the leader of a research group) or she truly doesn’t give a shit. Either way, she doesn’t deserve to be in the position she’s in. 


I still remember my last day in Irvine. It was bitter sweet. I was so happy to finally get to leave but also a bit anxious because I knew that the thousands of hours I spent studying and doing research was time wasted and it would never amount to anything. I knew I wasn’t going to get a job with my credentials. I even saw Eric (the other kid from U of I) in the student center when I went over to get lunch. He was looking at me all sad and shit because he knew I didn’t have a future in chemistry. We didn’t talk, we just walked past each other and exchanged glances. I tried to conceal a smile as I walked by. By the time my Dad’s flight landed, I had moved most of the stuff out my apartment. 


Life at home was hard. Depression is a mother fucker. I liken it to  a less severe version of sleep paralysis. I felt like I was stuck in my own body. Kinda like how I felt in the early Irvine days when it would take me hours to roll out of bed. I would literally wake at 6 am and just stare at the ceiling for ~4 hrs before I could convince myself to get up. And to make things worst, no emotional support was offered by my family. Their assumptions that I’m somehow responsible for other people’s actions along with their snide remarks about me being lazy did the opposite of help. I regretted coming home, even more so when I found out I somehow failed the background check for CPD. 


Now, how in the holy fuck does someone without a criminal record fail a background check? The only reasonable thing I could come up with to explain this is that the work experience I listed (my research experience) doesn’t count as work experience because instead of working for a salary, I worked for credit hours or a stipend. I have to tell myself things like this to convince myself I’m not getting screwed over in every facet of my life. If this is true, then my college experiences are doubly worthless because not only can the credentials I’ve earned not be used to get a job I’m more than qualified to do, but they can’t even get me a job you don’t even need a bachelor’s degree for.  


I wish I moved to LA after dropping out. If I stayed in Cali, I’d be force to move on with my life because I wouldn’t be able to sulk in my mother’s house for months. What would I do for work? idk...but I’d find something, and when I get fired, I’d just move on to the next dead end job.

As time went on, I found it easier to move, I still have scars though. Scars that may never heal. What can I do from here on out? I’m not sure. Going back to graduate school isn’t an option (or any program that requires letters of recommendations) because after experiencing what I’ve experienced and allowing those that I depended on for letters of rec to learn about my experiences, everyone seemed to be complicit. Either they didn’t do anything to change the course of action or it seemed like they were trying to cover it up by telling me to take the site down. I lost faith in everyone, I don’t think I can trust any of the profs to submit a letter of rec on my behalf when they either have done something that goes against my interests, are complicit in the wrong doing of others, or seem as though they’re attempting to cover up what happened to me. Even if I could get in anywhere, I still don’t want to go back to school. I lost faith in higher education. I lost faith in people. Whatever I do, I have to be able to do it without a college degree.

Just in case you’re wondering, I can’t depend on my college friends either. Mostly because I wasted no time trying to make friends. I’ve come to believe that friends are a worthless luxury.

I honestly believed that if I studied hard and knew my shit someone would hire me. I was wrong. I learned the hard way that to the outside world you are not you. You are not the sum total of your thoughts and actions. You are your skin color. You are your hair texture. You are the clothes you wear on your back. You are what people choose to believe you are. You are not you. People don’t care to get to know the people around them, they just want to feel as though their justified in believing the way they do. So I guess in order to get by in life you just need to be everyone’s friend and present yourself in such a way that everyone deems acceptable. Having the skills needed to do the job is more of an afterthought, huh? You know, one of the corollaries is that you’re expected to exhibit a certain level of extroversion. Welp, it just so happens to be the case that I’m an introvert and if the previous statements have some truth then I can honestly say this system was set up for me to fail. The only way I can get by in life is because I’m better than the other guy. No one will ever choose me because I’m their best friend.

I believe that’s where some of my problems stem from. When people see my face, they expect an extrovert (or at least someone who is more extroverted than me). When they find out I’m not who they want me to be, the reactions can range from essentially nothing, to mild disappointment, to mild hostility. And I think this is because people are more interested in the idea of me than actually getting to know me. So when they meet me and actually get to know me after building me up in their heads they’re kinda like “...oohh, this is it?!”. I don’t understand people. It’s like people just assume that you’re going to conform to their world view while refusing to even bend to yours. Now, I’m totally opposed to the very concept of “fitting in” because of all that. I got the sense “fitting in” means assimilation, which may involve losing qualities that make you unique (ones you may actually like about yourself). I don’t see why I should change in any way for people I don’t like, that I don’t see the benefit of being associated with, or for people that never liked me to begin with. People even sometimes mock my behavior, presumably because I’m not what they want me to be and this is just their way of trying to get me to conform.


The most recent example of this is my cousin Sonia (she’s multicultural). I went to her graduation party during the summer. And as with most family functions, it pretty much consisted of me sitting quietly most of the time. So fast forward to when it’s time to go home. My mother and 2/3 of my brother’s children are making their way to the car, noticing the third one is missing I go back for her. As I’m making my way up the front porch, three of my cousins (one of which is Sonia) are in my path and I say “watch out”. As I walk past Sonia, she says something along the lines of “woah, he must be serious....” while laughing... I’m going to say this once, “Mocking my behavior because I don’t act how you want me to act will never help anything”...... unless you’re actively trying to get me to dislike you. I have to remember that Sonia is just a child. Maybe it hadn’t dawn on her yet that there’s more to life than what she’s experienced. She’s probably never met a person like me, so she won’t know what to say in order to get me to interact with her. But then I’m like, “But what makes her think making herself look like an ass would actually help her in any capacity?” How does this explain the behavior of grown ass men and women who do the same thing?”. I wonder if it’s a cultural thing, and these people just don’t realize how bad they make themselves look to people that aren’t like them. 


On the way home, I started thinking, “Is this really the best I can do?”.  Have I been doomed to live a life where I’m not really happy? No, it can’t be the case. I still have faith. I may not have faith in other people anymore, but I still have faith in myself. I believe I can make something out of nothing, even if no one else does.

After going through all I’ve gone through, all I want is to not suffer anymore. I just want to be insanely rich for no reason. This won’t solve all my problems but it will eliminate many. If I ever come into having an ungodly amount of money, I’d give some of it to my family so they can afford many of the things that they want in life. Then I’d disappear, never to be seen or heard from again.


I’ve become acutely aware of the fact that people want to learn useless knowledge without ever having to talk to me.

DISCLAIMER: the knowledge is useless because we won’t/don’t have a relationship of any sort. Why waste your time learning information that isn’t relevant to your life?

So I’m going to take this opportunity to answers some personal questions because the thing I hated the most about you people is your unique combination of arrogance, ignorance, and obliviousness. While I can’t help with the arrogance and the obliviousness, I can help with your total lack of knowledge. So, without further ado ...

QUESTION TIME

Did you ever like life in Champaign county?

I was excited to be there in the beginning, then I met the people and all that excitement went away quick.

What’s your fondest memory from college?

That one time when Chipotle was doing that 2 for 1 deal. That was cold.

So, what’s up with your sexuality?

I don’t have sex because I don’t want to take the risk of having children, also no STDs. People were oddly obsessed with my sexuality and I never quite understood it. Here’s the thing, I’m a little self centered and I’m like you in the sense that I don’t immediately acknowledge other people’s way of thinking all the time. I honestly don’t understand why there was as much “interest” in knowing what I’m interested in (I use quotes because if people were actually interested they probably would have try talking to me). My viewpoint is that your claimed sexual orientation is irrelevant, it’s not even worth bring up in conversation. The reason why is simple. If you see a pretty girl and you know she’s interested in men, it doesn’t necessary mean she’s interested in you (assuming your male) right? That’s why the only thing that matters to me is whether or not the person I’m interested in is interested in me. 

It’s funny because if you completely ignore the fact that not everyone thinks like me, it would seem as though there were ALOT of dudes that wanted me to fuck them when I was in college.

To the people “interested” in knowing my sexual orientation. Ask yourself two questions. Do you want a shot? Do you think you have a shot? Think hard about it. If the answer to one of those questions is “no”, don’t waste your time.

If you haven’t already figured it out by now, I don’t think like a normal person. I’m never going to adjust or change to make you feel comfortable, the best thing I can do is not talk to you at all. I don’t adjust to you, you adjust to me. Why? because fuck you, that’s why.

Are you ever going to have sex?

Maybe, maybe not. What’s it to you?

Do you think people like you?

I know they don’t. Based off their actions, they don’t want to like me either. They’d spend less time gossiping about the negative characteristics I could have and more time actually getting to know me if they did.

You don’t think people know anything about you?

It all depends on what you think it means “to know”. Personally, I don’t. I’m never around people long enough for them to be able to get a true sense of who am I as a person. All people get are snapshots. Sadly, that isn’t good enough. That’s something I don’t think most people realize, actually.

What if after reading this, people actually started trying to get to know you, how would you react?

My recommendation is that you don’t waste your time. You can’t undo the damage that’s already been done. I’ve already stopped caring.

If you could go back in time and pick another college, which would you pick?

Xavier University in NOLA. I’d pick this HBCU because I’m fairly confident some of the problems I encountered at U of I wouldn’t have existed there.

Why did you choose UCI?

Because they told me I wasn’t going to make pass my first year.  I knew what type of student I was. I knew I had what it took to make it through any program. But I was at a low point in my life, where nothing seemed to be going right. I figure If I go there and get forced out after a year, it wouldn’t be my fault. The devastating thing is they let me get so close to graduating before just booting me out like they did.

Why did you use the word “they”?

Someone easily could have stepped in and did something. The department just enabled her (Suzanne Blum).

What grad program do you think you should have choose?

Indiana University or Rutgers probably would been better for me.

What motivates you to do well?

Meaningful positive reinforcement. Don’t just give out compliments for the sake of giving out compliments.

What’s one thing you hate most about people?

Their stupidity. Before I was told I failed the background check fro CPD. I’d get calls from some sort of case worker for CPD who was suppose to determine my eligibility. This dude asked me if I “resigned” from the Blum group and acted like that was a perfectly valid question. This wasn’t a job, it was a component of an academic program. I WAS A STUDENT. There was no resignation. You don’t resign from school. You either graduate, drop out, or get expelled. I know some college education is required for employment with CPD, so it’s far more likely that this guy is an idiot. REMEMBER GRAD SCHOOL IS STILL SCHOOL AND THERE ONLY 3 WAYS TO LEAVE.

Did you ever consider taking legal action?

Yes, but I know the people I’m dealing with aren’t above lying. Since there’s no physical evidence (that I have in my possession) proving that wrongs did occur, I’m reluctant to believe I’d actually win. It’s not smart to get into a “he said she said” battle with people that are believed to be pathological liars.

Are there any common misconceptions you’d like to clear up?

I wasn’t doing the school shit to make friends. I only wanted to make money. That’s the only reason why I was there, to make money. Every time someone why I as getting a PhD, my answer essentially went like, “I’m getting a PhD because money.” I see no point in trying to make friends with people who seemed to have been conditioned to dislike me.

Also, just because I’m quiet it doesn’t mean that I’m stuck up. It is in fact possible to be someone who isn’t a big talker.

Contrary to popular belief. I am in fact a HUMAN BEING. I have emotions and sometimes something could happen in one part of my life that can affect other parts of my life (like how well I do in school or how productive I am in lab).

Why did you just give up?

What’s the point of playing the game when you know you’ll never win.

It seems like the college years were a hard time for you, did you ever do something to ease the pain, like drugs or alcohol?

No, I love myself too much to potentially set myself up for problems later. I gave comedy a thought, but I found really hard to want to be funny when all I’m thinking about is the depressing shit that inspired the joke. If I’m gonna do something, it’s gonna be something were I don’t have to live with the consequences of my actions. I was suicidal. I was planning to kill myself the night before my thesis defense.

Why then?

I was fairly confident that no one there cared to save me from myself. But just in case someone wanted to surprise me, I figure it would be best to do when no one would expect it.

How?

potassium cyanide. The night before my defense I was going to make it my point to get a bottle of potassium cyanide. a couple months before my trip to Europe, I looked up who had it. It was on the fourth floor (or maybe the fifth). Go all the way down to the last lab space on the right hand side. When you walk into the lab space go along the right hand side and go through the door on your right. After that go to the first door on the right hand side. I placed a bottle on KCN in the first column on the left hand side, top shelf. The bottle should be on the wall on the left side (assuming it’s still in the same place I left it). I figured it wouldn’t get much use due to its inherent toxicity so it would probably be in the same place I left it when I needed it. I wouldn’t be surprise if the bottle is still in that exact spot.


Did you ever think about getting help?

From who? When I did finally ask for help, the first thing I was told was that the department sided with Blum (mind you this is before any type of investigation occurred). As soon as I posted the email from Chris Vanderwal on this blog, his tune changed immediately. But his actions didn’t reflect the words he put out in the public space. He was of no use. He had no interest in helping me in any capacity. I’m sure of it. I’m all alone in this world, I don’t have a safety net so if I fall, that’s my ass.

What about the professors from UIUC?

My previous statement stands. I had no one.

Is that why you started the blog? You felt like your were all alone and just wanted someone talk to, even if that someone was actually a void in space?

Yes, that’s exactly it.

Is that why you’re still posting, you still feel alone?

yes

But what about your family?

With them I’m a dependent not a provider. They’d be okay without me.

So have you really never sought out a therapist?

I couldn’t find steady work. I can’t afford it. Depression is a rich people disease. When you’re broke you’re just labeled as lazy.

What’s one thing you want everyone to know?

You shouldn’t let your assumptions or the assumptions of others affect how you treat me. Remember, you don’t know me. I could come to be your best friend, your faithful and supportive business partner, or the love of your life and you’d just let me slip away all because someone told you dislike me.

(Also, please don’t waste my time talking to me about all the typos I made)

[vexing-imogen]

you know how i feel

it’s a new dawn it’s a new day it’s a new life for me and i’m feeling good

(set in the same universe as Nein for a Night, but two years earlier)

If you were to ask Vex where she thought she’d be spending New Dawn’s Eve, Allura Vysoren’s Cloudtop penthouse wouldn’t have made her top five guesses. It wouldn’t have made her top twenty guesses, to be perfectly honest. Sure, Allura was lovely and kind and always made a point to talk to Vex and her friends whenever they met, but she was also a wealthy grad student who was friends with the literal heir to the throne. And the SHITs (as their group chat was so lovingly named)? Well, they were eight undergrads crammed into a crumbling townhouse in the Outer Slums.

But, while the invitation had been completely unexpected, they were never ones to turn down free booze (or food...or anything, for that matter...). So, here they were, thirty minutes to midnight, rubbing shoulders with Emon University elite. Pike had bribed Grog into wearing pants and shoes, though he’d dug his heels in at the mention of a tie, and even Vex had dipped into her precious savings to buy a new dress for the occasion.

The dress is perfect, all black silk and blue lace, just long enough to avoid being indecent, but still sexy enough to make Percy fumble his phone when she’d come down the stairs. That had been a rather pleasant ego boost, with the added bonus of giving her hope that Percy’s feelings for her perhaps mirrored her own for him.

She can see him now, across the room standing at the bar (and seriously, Allura has a fucking bar in her apartment? What the fuck?), making small talk with Uriel Tal’dorei himself. Tiberius would be shitting himself with jealousy, if he weren’t too busy flirting with Allura, utterly oblivious to the halfling, who is most definitely Allura’s girlfriend, glaring daggers at him. Only, Vex can tell that Percy’s bored and looking for an out. And what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t help him?

Vex approaches the bar under the guise of refilling her champagne, and the snippet of conversation she manages to catch is enough to have her eyes glazing over. And she’s majoring in Finance. Percy, while good with money, really could not care less about business or accounting, or, specifically, the inner workings of inter-continental trade agreements.

She waits for Uriel to end his current spiel, and for Percy to respond before she interrupts. “I am so sorry, your Grace,” she says, addressing the Sovereign-to-be, “I know it’s terribly rude of me, but would you mind if I steal Percival away from you? There’s a rather pressing conversation I’ve been meaning to have with him.”

Uriel, for his part, smiles graciously. “Not at all, Miss Vex’ahlia. Steal away,” he says. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time, Percival. I know I have a tendency to monopolize conversation. The perils of being a politician, I suppose.”

“It was a pleasure, really,” Percy lies, shaking Uriel’s hand. “Have a happy New Dawn, your Grace.”

Vex links their arms and steers them towards the balcony, which is deserted because it’s Duscar and therefore really fucking cold. She barely has time to shiver in the winter air before Percy is draping his heavy, blue coat over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she says, getting her arms into the sleeves and snuggling in. She probably looks ridiculous, bundled in his oversized coat like a child. If only she could be bothered to care.

Percy smirks, sips his own drink. “You saved my life just now. I thought it only polite to return the favor.”

She laughs. “It was either rescue you, or watch you turn your napkin into a swan, and we all made a deal to not embarrass ourselves for Allura’s sake.”

He laughs too, but then falls silent for a few minutes. When he does speak again, he sounds nervous, and she can’t decide if it’s a good omen or bad. “Vex,” he starts, “do you...actually have something that you want to discuss with me, or was that just made up to get me away from Uriel?” He doesn’t wait for her response. “Because, even if it was just made up, I think that we really do need to talk. About...certain things.”

About my birthday, she thinks. About the wild party all those months ago, where she and Percy got shitfaced and made out in his workshop. Where she woke up in his bed, fully clothed and stupidly hungover, and panicked and ran. Where she pretended not to remember any of that night, including the bit where he told her that he was in love with her and then kissed her senseless before she dragged him off somewhere private.

“No, you’re right,” she says, downing half of her champagne in one go. “We do need to talk.” She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eye. Because, as much as she wants to, she can’t be a coward now. “I’m sorry, Percy.”

He nods. “For what?” he prompts.

“For lying to you,” she says, gnawing on her lip. “The morning after me and Vax’s birthday, I told you that I didn’t remember anything that had happened the night before. But, I lied. I remembered...I remember everything.”

He nods again, smiles sadly. “I thought that you must,” he admits. “You were so distant after that night. I could only conclude that I’d...said too much. Freaked you out. Scared you off. Made you hate me.”

She takes his free hand in hers, squeezes. “I could never hate you, darling,” she promises. “Quite the opposite, really.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Vex...”

“You did scare me,” she confesses. “I mean, gods Percy, you’d never made any indication before then that you had so much as a crush, and then you were telling me that you were in love with me, and you kissed me. And I certainly didn’t stop you, I didn’t want to stop you, but I’d never really considered...and then I woke up, and I wasn’t drunk anymore, and it was real, but it was all too much, and I panicked.”

Percy cups her cheek with the hand that she doesn’t currently have in a death grip, wipes away tears she didn’t even realize were falling. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of that,” he says. “I never meant to spring that on you the way that I did. I was drunk, and I wasn’t thinking rationally, and we’d been flirting all night, so I just thought fuck it and put it all out there, without any regard as to how you might feel about it.” He squeezes her hand. “I was never angry with you for lying, for distancing yourself. It was perfectly rational, once I had time to think clearly about it.”

She smiles sadly. “I only distanced myself so that I could sort out my feelings properly. And then once I did...” She chuckles ruefully. “Well, let’s just say I probably owe my brother and Pike a lifetime’s worth of drinks for dealing with that whole mess.”

Percy laughs. “That certainly explains some things.”

“What things, Percy?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing of consequence, dear. Harmless pranks, I can tell you later.”

Vex shrugs. “I don’t really care, in all honesty,” she says. “Just tell me one thing, Percy.”

“What’s that, Vex’ahlia?”

She swallows her nerves. “Are you still in love with me?”

He smiles. “Yes.” He brings her hand to his lips, kisses it. “Tell me one thing in return, Vex?” She nods. “Have you sorted out your feelings for me?”

“Yes.” She licks her lips. “Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third, I am hopelessly in love with you.”

The grin that splits his face is the brightest she’s ever seen from him. “Well then.” He ducks his head as she surges up to meet him, and then they’re kissing. And it could be minutes or it could be years, but she thinks she’s never experienced a more pleasurable way to lose track of time.

The spell is broken by the sound of the party counting down to midnight. “We’re going to miss the fireworks,” Percy mumbles against her lips.

Vex grins. “I couldn’t give a fuck about fireworks right now, Percy. You?”

He presses his forehead to hers, cups her face in his hands. “With you right in front of me, how could I?”