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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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Spilling drinks on my settee (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Prompt: Start a story with "Can you keep a secret?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Word count: 2,8K

Genre: Fluff

Warning: none

Summary: Spencer is drunk with Morgan, finally sharing his feelings for Reader

Part two

Masterlist

- “Can you keep a secret?”

Spencer was drunk. He leaned over Derek tapping on his shoulder a few times, making him chuckle at the scene. Dr. Reid was never the one to go out, less going to a bar and have a few too many drinks. Hell no! He could be the designated driver for life, if only he liked to drive. When he joined his BAU friends on their nights out, he would usually stick with a whisky that could last the whole night, or even left untouched at the table after he left. But that night, Spencer Walter Reid was drunk as a skunk. Wasted. And his best friend was the only witness.

- “Ok kid, tell me your secret”

- “I'm in love”- the words came like a slur out of his lips, the ones that curled into a guilty smile- Stupid, crazy, and irrevocably in love.

- “No shit!”- Derek pretended to be surprised, but he would have been a lousy profiler if he had missed the look on his best friend's face in the latest months. He nearly had hearts draw on his eyes, like a cartoon.

- “Yesss”- he made that "s" sound longer than it should have and closed his eyes for a few seconds- “Yes, I am.”

Morgan was still chuckling as he stared at the kid. He was still a kid for him, though he was already 30. He still acted like one, still shy, inexperienced. He had more attitude on his job now, on the field, with the unsubs, his pairs. But in his personal life... well, that was a whole different story.

- “Do you want to know who she is?”- Reid whispered and brought a finger to his lips.

- “But shhhh! you can't tell anyone 'cos it's a secret”- it was getting harder for Morgan to remain serious at that conversation, but he managed to keep his poker face and nodded at his friend.

- “But you can't tell Penelope 'cos she is going to tell the whole FBI! I'm sure!”

- “I won't tell her”

- “When I told her I was afraid of the dark, everybody ended up making fun of me...”

- “I swear I won't, kid”- Derek nodded and reassured his best friend he could trust him. He knew it was hard for Reid to talk about his feelings, that was probably why he had gotten that drunk to share them.

It had been unusual when Spencer walked over to Derek and asked if he wanted to get a drink with him after work. It was weirder when he said he wanted it to be just the two of them instead of the whole team, cos "he had some serious business" he wanted to share with him.

- “I'm in love with (Y/N)”- and yes, Derek was right. Spencer wanted to talk about the obvious.

The whole team knew he was in love with (Y/N). It was crystal clear. It was so obvious even Strauss had joked about it with Rossi once. Yes, Spencer's feelings were so clear and visible, everybody was aware of his love.

Everyone but (Y/N), apparently.

Derek knew ('cos it was a well-established fact that Penelope couldn't keep a secret) that (Y/N) was sure Spencer wasn't interested in her. Garcia had tried to convince her their genius was head over feet for her, but Reid had made an excellent job in looking uninterested in her.

Why? 'cos he was stupid, and it had nothing to do with his high IQ. It was simply 'cos he was scared. Petrified by the idea he could lose her, so he had made sure his actions were nothing but friendly with her. They were best friends ever since they met, over six years ago when they both had started in the BAU, but despite their feelings, none of them had acted on them.

- “No way!”- Derek pretended to be shocked, and Spencer was so drunk he didn't get Morgan's sarcasm. Instead, he nodded and sighed.

- “Yes, I love her... I am in love, I think about her all day long when I'm not with her, and when she is around, I can't stop staring, she is the sun and I orbit around her existence.”

Derek widened his eyes as he listened to the corniest words he had ever heard Spencer pronounce before.

- “And I need help, 'cos I don't know what to do about it”

- “I think you should tell her, kid”- but Spencer shook his head frantically as if his friend had asked him to do the worst thing he could have ever thought.

- “No man, really, you've got a pretty good chance there, and you don't wanna live in the regret of thinking what could have been if you had done anything”

- “No, Morgan, I can't, I can't do that”- Spencer nearly started shaking at his best friend's suggestion. The fact he was being honest about his feelings to his friend was one thing, but sharing those feelings with the woman of his dreams, that wasn't on his plans.

Why? He couldn't find a good reason to do it. As far as he knew, letting (Y/N) know he loved her as no one had ever loved her before, could only mean the end of their friendship. And Spencer could live having (Y/N) only as his friend for the rest of his life, though it would break his heart deeper and deeper every day. But he couldn't live not having her by his side. He knew he couldn't. And he was sure if he revealed his true feelings to her, she was going to leave his side and disappear, end their friendship, and ignore his existence for the rest of his life.

Yes, Spencer was being dramatic, but he was scared. His mind kept telling him as soon as he told her how much he loved her, (Y/N) was going to disappear from his life as fast as everyone he cared for had done before.

- “If you don't want to tell her, then what's your plan, kid?”- Morgan asked the one million dollar question. Spencer just stared at him and took a sip of his whiskey.

- “I don't know”

- “Shit!”- Derek nearly shouted- “That's the first time I ever hear you say such a thing! man!”

- “Shut up! I don't know why I'm telling you this, I knew you were gonna make fun of me”

Spencer rested his head on his arm on the table and closed his eyes.

- “I just thought 'cos you are so smooth with women, maybe you could help me”

- “I can help you, Reid, I can, you just have to be open to the idea of telling her how you feel”

- “How can I tell her? she is gonna hate me”

- “She won't!”- Morgan tapped on his friend's back again and tried to calm him down.

- “How do you know?! You have never been rejected by any woman ever since I met you!”- but it didn't work, mostly because there was nothing on earth that could calm Spencer down at that point.

- “I know she likes you”

- “Sure, right!”- Reid snorted and finished what was left in his glass- “I need another one.”

- “You need to slow down, maybe get some water and fresh air”- Morgan stopped him when he tried to get to the bar and pulled him back to his seat

- “No, no no, you don't get it, Morgan, she went on a date with some random guy from a dating website...”

And Morgan realized where his friend's fears were coming from.

- “She is looking for someone, and clearly that someone ain't me!”

- “Maybe she is looking for someone to stop thinking about you”- Spencer furrowed his brows at Derek's words and stared at his hands on the table for a moment.

- “Come on man! you have to give yourself some credit! you are smart, you are funny, she is always laughing when she is around you”

- “At me! laughing at me! everybody laughs at me!”- for someone so smart, Dr. Reid was acting like an ass.

- “With you! be real, she is the girl who laughs at your jokes, listens to your rambling for hours, and actually pays attention to what you say”- Reid nodded, thinking of the sound of her laughter- “And you two spend most of your weekends off together!”

- “Clearly, she doesn't want to do that anymore, if she is looking for guys on dating apps”- Reid sounded bitter and hurt, two things he had never been very good at dealing with.

- “Why don't you ask her?”- Derek knew what Spencer was going to answer at that, the same he had said when he told him to be honest with her about his feelings: "No way". But instead, he only got a deep silence back.

- “Reid?”

- “You know what? I'm gonna ask her”- he whispered and nodded at himself- “I wanna ask her if she doesn't want to spend time with me anymore”

Morgan widened his eyes in shock.

- “And I'm gonna ask her now!”

- “Wait, kid”- but this time, he couldn't stop him, Reid grabbed his sachet, his jacket and stormed out of the bar, stumbling against a few people on his way out, 'cos he was too drunk to walk straight.

- “Kid! come one, wait!”

Derek followed him as fast as he could and grabbed his arm as he walked to her house. (Y/N) lived a few blocks from the bar, Reid didn't need a cab to get there, and he decided to face her and ask her why she didn't want to spend time with him anymore.

Of course, that wasn't the reason (Y/N) had gone out on that date. She actually wanted to spend all of her free time with him, but Prentiss had her forced to go out after hearing she hadn't been out in at least two years. Two years without a date. Two years actually without sex. Emily nearly died at the news, she couldn't believe anyone could live like that, and so, she forced her friend out with some random guy from a website.

- “There's no way you are spending another Friday night on your own! you need to have fun!”

- “I'm not gonna spend Friday night on my own! Friday nights are board game nights with Reid”- Prentiss frowned and crossed her arms on her chest staring at (Y/N) pouting.

- “Whatever it is you are thinking, please don't say it”

- “Boardgames with Reid, please tell me that means he is fucking your brains off on his dining table on top of a monopoly board”- (Y/N) wished her friend was right, but no.

- “Actually... no, it's Jenga night”

- “You are so going out this weekend!”

And she did, not Friday night, but Saturday afternoon. And it had been one of the worst dates (Y/N) had ever been on. Just like she had said that day back in the office, the guy was cute but dumb. On his behalf, she was in love with Spencer Walter Reid, any guy on earth was going to look dumb compared to him. But to be honest, he wasn't really bright either. And (Y/N) wasn't into him at all. They had a coffee, went to see a movie, and called it the night.

Spencer had no idea about that date, she never wanted to tell him 'cos it meant nothing to her. But after hearing the story of the date earlier that day, Spencer was a mess. He didn't know what to think, and that was the reason he was out there, drunk, asking Derek for advice.

He had tried to avoid her for the rest of the afternoon, he was upset, and he knew he was going to be passive-aggressive if they shared any word - he couldn't help it even when he knew he didn't have to act that way- and so, he didn't look from his paperwork until it was time to leave.

It was a good thing they were swamped with work, and (Y/N) didn't notice her best friend was giving him the cold shoulder from a safe distance.

- “Reid, Reid, wait!”- Morgan grabbed his best friend's arm and stopped him in his tracks- “What are you doing? you can't talk to her like this!”

- “I want to know! I deserve to know!”

- “Kid, you are drunk, you are not thinking straight”

- “Or am I?”- Spencer was slurring and his eyes were half-closed. Still, he knew what he was doing. He was making a mistake on purpose 'cos at that point, he was desperate.

- “Come on man, you are not thinking this, (Y/N) never said she is going out 'cos she doesn't want to spend her time you with you, those are your insecurities talking”

- “If she didn't do it because of that, then why?”- but Morgan couldn't answer, not because he didn't know the answer, but because Reid's retchings forced him to help him and pull his scarf and sachet back as he started puking in the middle of the sidewalk.

- “I think I'm gonna take you home now, kid”

Spencer felt like shit. He wasn't only drunk, but also miserable. He hated getting intoxicated like his, but he had no idea what else to do. He was lost and scared and wretched. He thought talking with Derek was gonna help, but he didn't know what to expect from his friend anyway, the only advice he got from Morgan was sharing his feelings with (Y/N), but... Reid knew he wasn't doing that, not in this life. Not if it meant he could lose her.

- “What the hell is going on here?”- (Y/N)'s voice felt like cold water running down Spencer's spine. He paused his puking for a second to look at her, and kind of smiled.

- “Oh! hey Buttercup!”- and that was all he could say before he continued vomiting.

- “Derek?”- the woman was shocked, had Spencer just called her by a cute nickname? she had always done it with him, he was her honey bunny, but he had never done it before... and she loved it- “What the fuck?”

- “Hey pretty girl!”- Morgan did his best to play it cool, though he was also freaking out. He knew (Y/N) wasn't going to be happy to know he let Spencer get that drunk. He was aware it wasn't his fault (not completely), but he also knew she was going to blame him anyway.

- “Why is Spencer drunk and puking on the front steps of my building?”

- “There's a very logical explanation for this”- Derek tried to elaborate on that idea, but nothing came to his head.

- “We had a few drinks”- Reid whispered and sighed, after everything he had eaten and drank had left his stomach.

- “Did you know alcohol is essentially a toxin, and so it can easily upset your stomach and cause you to vomit, particularly if you consume too much?”

Of course, being drunk didn't stop Spencer from being himself. After all, he didn't know how to be anybody else.

- “And now I'm taking him home”- Derek wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder and looked around, trying to find a cab.

- “But what are you guys doing here?”- (Y/N) wasn't getting what was going on, and she was honestly concerned Spencer was intoxicated. She knew he lived alone, no one was going to take care of him.

- “Honey, do you wanna come inside?”

- “Yes, yes, I do”- Reid didn't hesitate- “We should go inside”

- “No, you are drunk, you are going to your house”- Derek didn't let Spencer move, knowing he was too drunk to have a coherent conversation with (Y/N), and making his best to prevent him from making a huge mistake.

Morgan knew she was in love with him, but he didn't want him to talk to her under the influence, he knew it was something Spencer was going to regret in the morning.

- “Are you sure you don't wanna let him stay here?”- the girl asked and bit her lip, worried- “He can stay on my couch...”

- “He's gonna be ok, I'll take care of him”- Morgan smiled at (Y/N) and nodded- “It's my fault he is like this, I'm not gonna let you clean this mess.”

Her lips curled into a short smile. She looked at her best friend wasted, puke on his pants and shoes. His hair was a mess - a mess she wanted to run her fingers through, even when he was intoxicated - and his brow eyes were glassy. Even drunk he was gorgeous.

- “I'll call you tomorrow, ok?”- she whispered and Spencer nodded- “And I'll see you at work... I'll bring aspirins and coffee”- he kept nodding, feeling sick at the stomach again.

Derek stopped a cab and helped Reid in as (Y/N) stood at the sidewalk staring at her friends leaving.

- “What the fuck just happened?”

- “You owe me, kid”- Reid heard those words as he hugged his pillow and closed his eyes. He was on his bed, still fully dressed. He had only managed to take out his satchel and his shoes.

- “I wanted to stay over”- he murmured, making Morgan chuckle. The kid was acting like one.

- “Believe me, you'll thank me in the morning”

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid drunk #dr spencer reid #i love him so much it hurts #babymetaldoll writes

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queenofallwitches · 3 years

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an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

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epicspheal · 3 years

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Hey! I remember a while back I read a fanfic of yours regarding twilight wings- the unofficial Raihan episode. In it their was an oc of yours, and I was wondering if you have any more? I like making oc's myself and it's fun to see other people's ideas and stories.

Hi there! You have...opened the floodgates (in a good way). I have quite a few champion OCs. I’ll focus on the various champion OCs I have since I’ve mentioned this on my blog before the champions of Pokemon remain my favorite class of characters as they have so much potential as we’ve seen with Leon in SwSh. This is going to be a somewhat long post as I have 5 champions to talk about (plus there are pics here, most of them commissions from some very talented artists that I’ve tagged as I can’t draw)

(There’s Marsha and her starter/ace Rosemary the Audino with @hayleyb100 ‘s character Richard. Thank you HayleyB for drawing this! And if you guys haven’t please check out her amazing art and stories)

I’ll start off with the OC you mentioned in your ask...Marsha (full name Marsha Miller). She’s the Alolan champion that we see in my Conviction, the Raihan twilight wings episode (also shameless plug for my fic). Like many champions she’s a mixed type trainer, but she does have a slight preference for fairy types on her team. Unlike the SM/USUM protagonist, she actually hails from Unova but her family is military (her father used to serve under Lt. Surge before becoming a lieutenant himself) and so she’s lived in Unova, Kanto, and Alola. Before she ended up becoming Alola’s champion, she was content with being head of the cheer squad at her high school while in Kanto (before her family announced moving again and she was needless to say, quite upset at the prospect of throwing away her cheer captain title). Back when she lived in Unova, she would often stop by her grandparents herbalist shop to learn about various medicinal herbs.

I hint to this a bit in my Convictions fic when Marsha asks Raihan a question about him becoming champion elsewhere, but Marsha has a huge bout of imposter syndrome from being the first ever champion of Alola as she doesn’t feel like she measures up to the legends like Red or Blue or known superstar champions like Leon and Cynthia. A lot of her character growth comes after she wins the title as she learns to work with Kukui to help build up the Alola League and make it famous. Luckily she happens to be a pretty friendly, if somewhat reserved character making it easy for her to befriend the likes of Leon and Raihan (and she also gets them to be a couple). Both Leon and Raihan give her tips they’ve learned from being in Galar to help boost the reputation of the Alola League. Back in Alola she is good friends with Mallow, Plumeria and Mina as they often visit Mallow’s restaurant to eat and catch up. She ends up being a big sister friend to Gladion, Lillie and Hau (being in her late teens when she first met the kids) as well as Iris when she meets her at the champion’s conference.

(Credit to @roseltheteacup for this amazing sugimori style artpiece of Calla. Please check out rosel’s artwork as well)

The next one is my probably my most well-developed champion OC and my version of Victor/Gloria...Calla Okoro. She’s the Sword Hero of Galar to go with Hop’s Shield Hero. Calla is a baby genius with an IQ of 162 (so she’d qualify for MENSA in the real world) and graduated college at the age of 12 with a degree in chemistry, a year before she ends up taking on the gym challenge. Her favorite type is poison and she decided that she would take on the gym challenge by using only Poison types, refusing a starter from Leon to train up her Budew and other poison types she found along the way.

Her knowledge of poison types would become very useful towards the end of the challenge and Eternatus awakening and possessing Leon , however this girl struggled so much at the beginning as the poison types she caught don’t really get good until they evolve. It was also a testament to having book knowledge of Pokemon and type advantages doesn’t equate to automatically winning a battle. She struggled especially at Kabu’s gym, resulting in her first official loss (outside of losing her second battle to Hop at Magnolia’s house due to his Rookidee being super effective against her Budew nicknamed Sabi). Calla is persistent though and patient so she worked with her team developing a killer toxic stall strategy (that helped her be the first person to take Leon down). As champion Calla uses her position to promote science and eventually goes back to school to get PhD, becoming the first Galar champion to also be a professor. When Calla is not doing Pokemon battles or giving science demos, she tends to enjoy doing backflip competitions with Gordie or rocking out at Piers’ concerts with Marnie and Hop and Bede (Bede will deny hanging out with them)

(thank you RPG Picrew, I have yet to get official commissioned work of him done)

This is Jabari Revere, my Kalos champion OC and part of the Kalos 5. I’m still working on his backstory and personality as I replay Pokemon Y (I tend to replay the games for my champion OCs to build up their teams and get a sense for the personality). Jabari is a water type champion who enjoys his days swimming in the ocean and surfing on his Mantine, nicknamed Monterey. Like Serena from the anime he is a bit at odds with his mother Grace for wanting him to take up the family tradiiton of Rhyhorn racing. However unlike anipoke!Serena, he did have a goal of training water type Pokemon with the aim of becoming a water type champion just like Wallace from Hoenn. Jabari is definitely an easy going fellow, which helps him befriend Serena, Tierno, Trevor and Shauna as well as Grant and Clemont. Unlike my Galar champion Calla, he is more willing to use Pokemon other than water types, such as when he fought Korrina at the Mega Evolution tower using the Lucario who was attracted to his aura, or when he rescued Yveltal from Team flare and let it get revenge on Lysandre

(this piece was done by @snowythesoft aka ChibiGirl! Thank you again for this and also please check out her art as well)

Yes, you’re looking at a robot. His name is Valen and is actually my first non-self insert Pokemon OC. After watching the first Pokemon movie and seeing Mewtwo be a Pokemon trainer, and also after watching the Watson computer on Jeopardy, I came up with the idea of “what if someone made a robot as a Pokemon trainer”. Hence Valen, the world champion of my version of the Pokemon World

Created by Molayne and Sophocles at the request of Red and Blue as a new fixture for the battle tree, Valen quickly began to learn from the some of the strongest trainers how to battle (with a frequent opponent being Marsha as she needed someone who could challenge her in battle). Once he figured out how to consistently beat the likes of Red, Blue and Marsha in battle...it was a wrap. Valen travelled to every known region and soon became the undisputed most powerful trainer in the world defeating every last living champion. He even took on Leon, Cynthia and Red in a triple battle and won. Despite his absolutely monstrous skill Valen is an absolute sweetheart and always compliments his opponents in battle. He also loves bowties, with his first gift being the red bowtie he sports from Sophocles do not touch or harm that bowtie if you value your life, it’s one of the few things that will actually piss off this gentle giant of a robot.

(credits to the VillainSona Picrew)

So this is my final non-self insert champion OC, His Royal Highness Jack, Duke of Stow-On-Side. In a discord server and on some messages here on tumblr, I’ve described Jack as the unholy combination of Caillou and Jack the Ripper. Jack hails from a disgraced family of aura guardians who learned that they could use their aura powers to create shadow Pokemon. 150 years prior to the main Sword and Shield story line his family managed to beat back the Hammerlocke Royal family (aka the great Raihan’s family) from Stow-On-Side and Ballonlea to claim the two towns for themselves. When Peony stepped down as champion Jack ended up taking the champion title. Now Jack is actually a legitimately powerful trainer without the need to shadowfy his Pokemon, but he does so anyway to ensure absolute control and to hopefully make his royal family the absolute rulers of Galar (his actions would years later inspire Sordward and Shieldbert, the Dukes of Motostoke). He even bribed gym leaders to be extra difficult on challengers he deemed to be a threat (so Leon, Raihan, Nessa and Sonia got hit hard with this).

Jack’s misdeeds are pretty vast. The reason why Sonia is so unconfident in her battling skills? Jack ambushed her in the wild area and destroyed her in a match while mocking her. Why does Leon have that perfect image as champion? He’s trying to build back the reputation the Galar league has after Jack nearly destroyed it’s rep on the world stage with his actions. Why are Leon and Sonia so insistent on you focusing on the gym challenge and leaving the problems to the adults? The adults during their gym challenge were either on Jack’s side or were actually useless against him and his shadow Pokemon. To quote my friends in an rp server I’m in “Jack is the absolute worst” So that’s all of the champion OCs I have. As I continue to write more fanfic will definitely see all of them pop up in various stories.

#pokemon champion #pokemon poc #pokemon OC #ask epic spheal #I love talking about my OCs so if you guys have any questions keep them coming #you have no idea how happy i was to see this question #I screamed at work in the breakroom and spent my lunch answering this lol

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lyssismagical · 4 years

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diamonds are forever, but i’ve got something better

Parkner Febufluff Day 27 & 28 - Teasing & First Date

Read on AO3

Peter was a little bit too excited.

Ever since he found out about Tony meeting a genius kid in Tennessee years prior, Peter tracked him down and started talking to him over texts and social media. They got really close despite having never met, similar in age and in IQ, in life stories and in knowing Tony, it was easy to make conversation.

And now, Harley’s official flying up to New York to take Peter on a date, to meet for the first time since they started talking nearly a year and a half earlier, since Peter was fifteen.

Tony knows about it, knows way too much from Peter’s rambling conversations and occasionally screenshotting texts from Harley and sending them to Tony. They were always really cute, playfully flirting on each other’s social media, and it took over the media quicker than anybody could anticipate.

Peter was well known as The Intern, the quirky kid who somehow worked as Tony Stark’s personal intern at fifteen years old, now seventeen, easily winning the public’s affection with his silly tweets and his endearing personality, not to mention the pictures he took of Tony being a good person, just to prove it.

But when Harley started showing up in all Peter’s tweets and Instagram comments and even on his Snapchat story, the public started showing Harley some unwelcome attention until Tony made the public statement that he did know Harley.

And now, the media is obsessed with Harley and Peter.

“You’re not, you know, worried about your relationship being exploited like this?” Tony had asked when both Peter and Harley’s follower count had skyrocketed.

Peter had grinned, already working on a Tweet directed at Harley, “Course not. They only get to see the things we want them to see. Plus, it’s fun.”

And now, Harley and Peter are finally meeting after eighteen months of only talking online.

“Could you relax?” Tony says, lifting his eyebrows as Peter’s leg bounces under the lab bench and his fingers tap incessantly on the table. “You’re making me nervous.”

Peter looks up from his homework, corners of his eyes crinkling as he lights up in a smile. “I’m just so excited! We’re actually finally meeting! The closest thing we’ve done so far is photoshop us into pictures together.”

Tony rolls his eyes fondly, shaking his head. “He hasn’t even boarded the plane yet, kid, just relax. He’ll be here late.”

“I know, I’m just too excited! I barely slept last night-” Peter’s voice is cut off by his ringing phone. “It’s Harley! I gotta take this!”

Tony rolls his eyes again, turning back to his own work.

“Hey, I’m at the airport,” Harley says with barely contained elation. “I’ve still got a bit before boarding, but I wanted to call you before I left.”

“I’m so excited!” Peter says for probably the thousandth time, voice lifting high and happy.

Peter can practically hear Harley’s smile. “Me too. I should’ve found an excuse to fly up sooner, but between college applications and extra credits and the job I’m working… Yeah, it’s just been kinda crazy.”

Harley works with his mom at the diner now that his little sister is old enough to stay home alone. It helps to bring in the extra cash, especially with Harley in his last year of high school.

“Yeah, of course, and I’m sorry I couldn’t fly down and see you, just between Spider-Man and school…” Peter doesn’t say that he’s scared of planes, but Harley already knows that.

“No worries, we have the next two weeks to spend together and make up for lost time, darling. And if I get into MIT, I’ll be just a few hours’ drive away,” Harley says, smile in his voice. “I’ll be able to see you every weekend.”

Peter grins, fingers tapping on the tabletop. “That sounds wonderful and I’m going to apply to MIT too. Maybe I can see if Tony’ll pull some strings and get us a dorm together.”

Tony turns around from his project, eyes lighting up. “You’re applying to MIT?”

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Peter nods. “It’s my dream school and Harley’s going in the fall.”

“Hell yeah, I’ll pull some strings. I’ll pull all the strings, kiddo.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. He brings the phone back up to his ear, listening to Harley’s quiet laugh.

“That’s a yes, then?”

Peter laughs. “Yeah, that’s a yes from Tony, I think instead of the shovel talk, he’s going to end up offering to pay your tuition or something, maybe write you a letter of recommendation.”

Tony flips him off over his shoulder but doesn’t bother denying it.

“Oh shoot, boarding’s started,” Harley mumbles, some strange mix of disappointed and excited. Disappointed because he doesn’t want to stop talking to Peter, but excited because he’ll be seeing Peter soon.

“Okay, well I’ll see you in four hours then?”

Harley makes a noise, something like a squeal of excitement, muffled by a cough like he doesn’t want to admit how excited he is. “Four hours, Parker. I’ll get a taxi at the airport and meet you at the tower, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Peter says. “Be safe.”

Harley’s voice softens, “Of course. Bye, darling.”

“Bye, Harley.”

As soon as Peter sets down his phone, Tony turns around again, not even bothering to hide his obvious eavesdropping. “You wanna work on stuff or are you going to panic clean the whole tower?”

Peter laughs, standing up and stretching his shoulders. “I’m going to go patrolling because I don’t think I’ll be out much for the next two weeks.”

Tony smiles but he looks serious when he ruffles Peter’s hair. “I know Harley’s a good kid, but I still want you to be careful, alright? You’re my kid and I’ll give him hell if he hurts you.”

“He won’t, Mister Stark,” Peter says. “Plus, nothing could be worse than nearly getting killed by my homecoming date’s dad. I think that will forever stay on top of the worst dates list.”

Tony pulls Peter in for a quick hug before letting him go, calling out to be safe on patrol.

* Harley arrives to the tower, suitcase and duffel dragging behind him, just past four hours later, a little bit of traffic slowing him down from making it on time.

He makes it into the lobby, taking in the huge space and all of the eyes turning towards him when he hears the familiar voice.

“Harley!”

He turns, dropping his suitcase and duffel when he sees the mess of curly brown hair racing towards him. He catches Peter who throws himself into Harley’s awaiting arms, nearly knocking Harley over.

Peter, in his arms, for real, for the first time since they became friends eighteen months prior, feels right, like this is exactly where they’re supposed to be. Peter’s warm and smaller than Harley, smelling like expensive soap and motor oil, and so fucking beautiful in person.

He’s seen hundreds of pictures of Peter, facetimed him more times than he can count, but this is different. Peter’s real and touchable and in his arms.

He wants to say something smart, something meaningful because this moment is meaningful, but his brain blanks, caught up in only Peter.

“Darling,” is all Harley manages, kind of high and strained like he’s trying not to cry, maybe he is trying not to cry, and when Peter laughs wetly from where he’s hidden his face against Harley’s chest, Harley figures he’s not the only one.

“I can’t believe this,” Peter says, pulling away just enough to look at Harley properly. His fingers brush along Harley’s cheekbones, cradling his face like he’s made of glass. “You’re so- God.”

“I’m god, am I?” Harley teases, smile threatening to break his face in two. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this much pure joy.

Peter laughs, the same carefree laugh Harley’s been hearing through the phone for so long, and presses a kiss to Harley’s cheek, intertwining their fingers.

“I just never knew you had freckles,” Peter says, voice soft and careful and when Harley meets his gaze, Peter’s bambi-brown eyes are teary and his lip wobbles dangerously close to crying.

Later, photos will spread across the internet of the two of them standing in the lobby of the tower, hanging onto each other and crying and murmuring the softest of words, looking at each other with only one thing in their eyes, pure love.

For now, it’s just the two of them.

* Eventually, Peter shows Harley to his room, a few doors down from Peter’s, and around the rest of the penthouse, even down to the lab while Tony’s away at a meeting for Pepper.

Harley lights up when they reach the huge kitchen, way bigger than necessary, and spotless considering Tony can’t cook and Peter’s been banned from the kitchen since he started a fire a few months back.

“I just had takeout planned, but if you wanna cook, be my guest,” Peter says, hopping up to sit on the counters, feet dangling. “I think Tony keeps it pretty stocked.”

Since he works at a diner with his mom, he’s picked up cooking and he found out he really enjoys it. So he hops on the opportunity to cook in Tony Stark’s kitchen, and starts rifling through the pantry and fridge.

Peter keeps up the conversation, despite it being mostly one-sided as Harley cooks, but he doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying watching Harley cook. It’s so much better than watching the snapchats of Harley’s cooking.

When Harley presents homemade pasta, nearly an hour and a half later, Peter swears he could marry the boy right then and there.

“I swear you’re good at everything you do,” Peter says, not even hesitating to curl up against Harley’s side on the couch, tucking his feet up under him. “You could decide to become, I don’t know, a dancer, and it would work out for you.”

“Says the literal superhero,” Harley replies, balancing his plate on his lap to wrap an arm around Peter.

Peter rolls his eyes, tucking in closer. “You wanna watch Star Wars?”

It’s a strange first date, that’s for sure. Cooking together and then watching Star Wars, it’s not the expensive, overly romantic first date that a lot of people chase, but it’s homey and it’s nice. It’s them.

When Tony gets back, prepared to give Harley the talk about not hurting Peter, or maybe to offer to pay for his tuition, he isn’t really sure what his plan was, he finds Harley careful dragging a blanket from the back of the couch over Peter who’s fallen asleep, head tucked against Harley’s chest.

“Hey, kid,” Tony says, helping Harley spread the blanket to make sure Peter’s feet are covered.

“Hi. Long time no see,” Harley whispers, careful not to wake Peter. His hand comes up to brace the back of Peter’s head, making sure he doesn’t slip as he shifts.

Tony offers a smile, taking the plates from the coffee table to clean up. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d pay for your tuition or if you want a dorm room with Peter when he gets in or if you want a letter of recommendation. As long as you’re good to my kid, I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Harley murmurs. He presses a kiss to the crown of Peter’s head. “And you don’t have to worry about him, it would be stupid of me to ever let this go. Thanks again for the flight.”

“No problem, as I said, I’m here for whatever you boys need, just… Don’t hurt him, alright? The world’s let him down too many times and I don’t need you to add to the collection. He- He’s too good of a kid… But don’t worry about me. If there’s anybody you need to worry about giving you the shovel talk, you should worry about May.”

Harley’s eyes widen a little bit, but he doesn’t seem too shaken. “I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Good. Now, get some sleep. If you spent last night like Peter did, bouncing off the walls with excitement, I’m sure you’re tired.”

Tony smiles at them one last time before he heads off, leaving Harley to press another kiss to Peter’s head, letting his eyelids droop shut, filled to the very brim with love and acceptance.

{I know I’m a month late, but I’ve officially finished Febufluff!!}

#lyss writes #febufluff #wow i did it febufluff is officially finished #parkner #parley #parkner fic #harley keener/peter parker #harley keener #irondad #peter parker

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incandcscent · 4 years

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╰ ♡ MUSE 76 , SHAWN MENDES , CIS MALE ┊ have you seen LEO SINCLAIR around hillston ? the 18 year old is said to be a COLLEGE SOPHOMORE . the neighbours would say that they’re UNRULY and RECKLESS , but they’re actually CHARISMATIC and EFFERVESCENT . he often reminds people of credit cards without limits , late nights in loud places , abandonment issues masked with smiles . watch out , though . you wouldn’t believe that HE WAS INVOLVED IN A HIT AND RUN WHILE INTOXICATED .

hello , friends ! i’m rory , she / her pronouns . i’m very excited to be here and bring this messy boy who i love with my whole heart . i have some info about him , if you guys are interested . and if you want to plot with him , smash that like or message me !

basic stats.

FULL NAME : leopold james sinclair ii .

NICKNAME : leo , sinclair .

DATE OF BIRTH / AGE : august 14th , 2001 / eighteen .

HOMETOWN : hillston , illinois .

GENDER IDENTITY : cis male .

PRONOUNS : he / him .

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual .

MBTI : entp — the debater .

OCCUPATION : full - time college student ( sophomore , mechanical engineering & electrical engineering and computer science ) .

PINTEREST : here .

for full stats go HERE !

backstory.

leopold james sinclair ii , named after his grandfather , is the youngest of the sinclair children , and to say he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth would be an understatement . from day one , leo had everything he could possibly want handed to him ; but maybe not everything he needed .

the boy was only two months old when the sinclair mother abandoned the family . leo has no recollection of the woman but her actions caused him to grow up expecting people to leave and needing constant reassurance from those he cares about . though he wouldn’t admit to any of that .

from a young age it became clear that leo wasn’t like the rest , learning things much faster than the rest of his classmates . one test and it was proven what his teachers already knew : a genius iq . the decision was made not to have him skip grade and instead his school worked on activities to fit his needs .

as a restless and active young boy , he needed constant stimulus both mentally and physically to avoid boredom and the trouble that always come with that . and even with a full day of tinkering with computers , playing sports and being out with his friends , leo still constantly got himself into mischief .

he skipped 8th grade and went straight to high school and took his place with the popular crowd . he was in the football team ( quarterback ) , the basketball team ( shooting guard ) , and the baseball team ( pitcher ) , and his weekends were spent getting drunk or high or both at some party with his friends .

leo graduated top of his classes and out of a pile of college acceptance letters he decided to stay in hillston . he’s currently in his second year there pursuing a double major , studying mechanical engineering and electrical engineering & computer science . he is also the quarterback for powell university’s football team . his weekends are still spent just like he did in high school .

one of those nights ended with leo waking up next to his best friend , scarlet rhodes . a couple months later she came with the news that she was pregnant . it , of course , shock and terrified him . their daughter , natalia , is now three months old and without a doubt the most important person in his life .

that , of course , wasn’t the only night where his usual recklessness resulted in something unexpected . a few months ago , while on his way home from a party and heavily intoxicated , he was involved in an accident and instead of sticking around to see what had happened he simply kept driving .

it turns out , the person in the other car was injured , but leo never had to worry about it because , like it happens every time he gets himself into real trouble , money and power made it all disappear . he has wondered about it a few times but mostly prefers to pretend it never happened .

right now , leo is simply living his life the way he wants . he works hard when he’s in school and parties even harder when he’s not there . and , of course , he’s still trying to get the hang of this fatherhood thing .

personality.

leo is an extrovert . he likes being around people and thrives when the attention is on him . and when it isn’t on him he will do his best to make sure that changes as fast as possible . he has a magnetic personality that draws people in and a love for life and fun that makes them stick around .

he exudes confidence . he is rich , good looking and brilliant ; he knows it and acts accordingly . but deep within he holds some self - esteem issues that stem from thinking he’s the reason his mother left . and with that comes an undying need to always be the best at everything he does . to prove his worth .

he is very spoiled and used to getting things his way . materialistic and incredibly self - indulgent . he doesn’t think twice before dropping thousands of dollars in a night out with his friends or buying a new five figure watch . he has never in his life had to worry about number in a price tag .

extremely reckless , it’s very rare that he will think before doing something . he’s guided by his desires and has an hedonistic approach to life . he will do just about anything for he thrill and for fun . regrets happen , but they don’t stop him from doing something stupid again and be unapologetic about it .

for as outgoing as he is , leo keeps a lot to himself . when it comes to his deepest fears and doubts he would never voice them up . he likes the idea of people thinking that he has a perfect life and that nothing bothers him , and he lets himself buy into that idea too , ignoring and bottling things up .

he also has a problem with emotional intimacy . he doesn’t like the idea of people getting too close and knowing him well enough to see it through his lies and insincere smiles . and , of course , he’s also constantly afraid that he’ll let people in and get attached only for them to leave him .

that has also made it impossible for any of his past relationships to last for very long or mean too much for him . he’s slept with more people than he could probably remember and the idea of commitment is enough to send him running . not the kind of guy to call the next day unless he wants seconds .

he is an amazing friend to those that have managed to get close and break his walls , though . ready to help with whatever and whenever and protective too . his family is extremely important for him and he doesn’t take well to people saying anything bad about any of them .

wanted connections.

for full wanted connections go HERE !

squad : rich kids doing terrible things together .

brotp : someone who knows the ins and outs of leo .

teammates : he is the quarterback of powell university’s football team .

good influence : an angel on his shoulder when he’s being his little shit self .

yin and young : someone who is completely different and they balance each other .

friend turned enemy : they used to be close friends , but that changed when the two got into a fight over something we can plot .

mutual annoyance : these two just can’t stand each other , and it has been like that for as long as they can remember .

just do it : those friends that everyone knows have chemistry but nothing has happened .

friends with benefits : a lot of those . casual , messy , in between !

random hookups : a lot of those ! leo will sleep with anyone attractive .

ex - fling / toxic couple : they were always fighting and arguing , but there’s just too much chemistry and attraction there still .

ex - girlfriend / it couple : they dated and while it lasted they were the it couple at school .

ex - girlfriend / bad terms : leo cheated on her and she still hates him .

#hillston.intro #❛ 𝒍𝒆𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒓 | 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟: dossier .

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cmncisspnandmore · 5 years

Text

Boy Wonder and Family: Prequel

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Warnings: vomiting, unplanned stuff, fluff,

A/n: Hello lovely readers! It’s me, I have decided that I’m going to be rewriting the entire Boy wonder and Family series. So I figured I might as well write the prequel. So here it is! I am working on the rewrite for the first part this weekend so if you have read it before, look for the new release!

~~~

It seemed odd to just about everyone that a high school senior would be dating a college kid with an undergrad and doctorate, and was working towards his second. Except you, you had met the kind genius while walking home from one of the classes you took at Caltech for extra credit. You were smart, you took AP classes, and three extra credit courses at Caltech but never expected to run into someone who by your age already had a doctorate.

You and Spencer had hit it off, becoming fast friends. You were lacking in the friend department, and honestly it was nice to be able to talk to someone your age. You quickly learned that he had an IQ of 187, and eidetic memory. Which fascinated you, to say the least.

When Spencer would walk you home he would often answer any questions you could think of about mathematics. It wasn’t your strong suit and seeing as he already had the degree, he found joy in helping you with your school work.

You had been there the day Spencer had sent Diana away to Bennington sanitarium. You watched from the doorway as the orderlies helped her into the car and drove off.

You watched as Spencer’s hardened exterior crumpled as his mother drove from sight. You held Reid that night as he sobbed until his chest ached and his head pounded. Not once did he ask you for a single thing but you always knew just what he needed. When he told you that you didn’t have to stay with him you refused, and you lay on his bed with him into the wee hours of the morning.

You spent the morning with him, helping him pick up his mother's room and store all her books so he could send them to her. After a long day of packing and cleaning, Spencer insisted he buy you dinner for all your help.

At first you were nervous, you had always had a crush on your best friend, and the invitation of dinner had caused your heart to somersault. It was at dinner that night Spencer managed to stutter out that maybe you could try to be more than friends. He confessed rather quickly and awkwardly that he had harbored a crush on you for some time, but didn’t want you to think it weird of him.

Without a moment of hesitation you had leant across the table and kissed the shy boy. Causing him to flush so red you thought he might pass out.

Since then you had been dating and now laying on his couch, you were trying to figure out one of the formulas for your chemistry course to no avail.

Spencer was at school still, having insisted on staying at the library to finish writing a paper for his psychology class. You had tried to persuade him to come back to the house to finish his paper and to spend some time with you before you had to leave for the weekend to go with your parents to Seattle for a presentation. But Spencer held firm, telling you that he would see you before you left, but being at the house would be distracting. Especially if you were there because you were quite the distraction to the young Dr.

You flip your textbook closed and sat up, stretching your arms out above your head. Your shoulders protest at the movement having gone stiff from holding your upper body up off the couch while you worked.

Checking your phone you hope to see that Spencer had sent you a text but there was nothing. You flip your phone closed and toss it onto the couch next to your chemistry book. Standing from the couch you walk into the kitchen in search of food, you pull open the fridge and see a jar of marinated mushrooms and a jar of pickles. You pull both out from the fridge and put them on the counter before grabbing a fork and perching on the counter and digging in.

As you’re eating your third pickle from the jar, the front door opens and Spencer strolls in, the tan messenger bag you got him for Christmas last year slung across his shoulder. He pulls it off and places it on the kitchen table, before he notices you sitting on his counter snacks in hand.

“Hello sweetheart.” He smiles and walks over to you standing between your legs and placing his hands on your thighs.

“What’s up Dr?” You smile and lean in to give him a quick kiss.

“I finished that paper,” he brushes some of your hair from your forehead, “and now I’m here to see you.”

“Well lucky you, I’m a sight to see.” With a wink you put the top back on the pickle jar and crack open the mushrooms.

“What are you eating?” He laughs as you stab your fork into the jar, spearing a mushroom.

“Well you, this is called a mushroom, and it comes in many shapes and sizes. Then they take this and they put it in..”

“I know what you’re eating but why?” He shakes his head, laughing at your quirky explanation.

“Because it looked good.. I don't know.”

“You hate pickles, you always complain that it gives you heartburn.” He gives a look and you shrug, after eating a few more of the mushrooms you put the cover back on and toss the fork into the sink.

“Well, maybe I enjoy the heartburn.” You smirk and wrap your arms around his neck, and he squeezes your hips.

“Mmm you say that now but tonight you’re gonna be crying about how uncomfortable you are.” He laughs as his nose bumps yours.

“Maybe you should give me something to distract me then?” You whisper your lips centimeters from his.

“Mmmmm…” Just as Spencer leans in to kiss you he pulls back just as fast. “Like that killer chemistry homework you have!” He smiles and walks away from the counter into the living room where your chemistry homework is still on the couch.

You pout for a moment, before hopping down, as you hop down your hand knocks the jars off the counter and they crash to the floor. You let out a shriek and kneel to pick up the now shattered glass. Spencer skids to a halt and grabs the broom from the closet and helps you clean up the glass. You felt dumb, you were never clumsy and now here you were knocking stuff off the counter because your boyfriend causes you to be sexually frustrated.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” He asks after he throws out the jar shards and helps you stand up. You shake your head, and blink a few times trying to get your emotions under control.

“What’s wrong? You’re never like this.” He leads you over to the couch and sits you down.

“I just I feel dumb, I know it was an accident but I just haven’t been feeling like myself. I don’t want to go to Seattle, and I think it’s just messing with me.” You shrug as Spencer tucks you into his arms, resting his chin on your head.

“Then don’t go, stay here with me. I’m sure your parents would be okay with it. Just tell them that we have something we have to do for my mom.” Spencer suggests, as he strokes your hair.

“Maybe, I don’t want them to be mad. And you have work you need to do before the weekends over. I don’t want to distract you.” You mumble and glance at your phone.

“I want you to stay here. Please? Just call and ask.” He reaches over you and grabs your phone flipping it open and pressing it into your hand.

With a small nod you go into your contacts and select your mother's number, you put the phone to your ear as it rings and wander off into Spencer’s room.

“Hello?”

“Mom? It’s me.”

“What’s wrong dear? You sound conflicted.” You sit on the edge of Spencer’s bed.

“I just haven’t been feeling like myself, and it’s been bothering me. I really don’t want to go to Seattle this weekend.”

“Oh honey, you don’t have to go, you have been kinda off lately, maybe you’re coming down with a cold? Your father and I can do the presentation without you, we just thought you would want to come along for the trip. But if you want to stay than you can,” your mother shuffled around something on the other side of the phone line.

“Really? You aren’t mad?” You lay back on the bed, back flat against the blankets, legs dangling over the edge.

“No honey, we aren’t mad. You might be getting sick and if you are we don’t want to drag you to another state. Why don’t you get some rest this weekend and we’ll talk more when we get back.” You moms warm voice settles the nerves you had about calling her.

“Okay, I’ll call you on Sunday when you get back okay?”

“Alright, I love you.”

“Love you too mom.” You flip the phone closed and stare at the ceiling for a moment. You can hear Spencer moving around in the other room. After a few moments your stomach starts to turn and you sit up, clamping your hand over your mouth you take off to the bathroom. Your nearly knock over Spencer on your way to the bathroom. Your land on your knees with a hard thud as you grasp the porcelain bowl with your hands and the contents of your snack are expelled into the toilet.

Maybe your mom was right, you could be getting sick. As you blindly reach up to flush the toilet, you feel a hand on your back. Rubbing soothing circles against your shirt.

“You okay? Pickles not agree with you?” Spencer asks as he hands you a tissue and you use it to wipe your mouth.

“I think I’m coming down with something, my mom mentioned I’ve been kinda off as well.” You stand up from the toilet and turn on the sink rinsing your mouth out and then splashing cold water on your face.

Spencer hands you a towel to wipe your face off with and then guides you back to his room.

“Here why don’t you lay down and I’ll get you some water and saltines.” He lifts the blankets for you and you crawl in, wrapping the blankets around you.

“Okay, if i don’t feel better in the morning I’ll stop into a walk in clinic and get checked out.” You rest your head against the pillows.

“Sounds like a good idea, get some rest” he leans down and kisses your head. You turn over and close your eyes. Quickly you fall asleep, and Spencer spends some time in the living room looking over his research paper. Around midnight he turns in and tucks himself behind you and falls asleep for the night. During the night you got up a few more times to get sick, dry heaving mainly, and Spencer makes his way sleepily out of bed each time and holds you hair and rubs your back.

By morning, he was convinced you needed to be seen so the first thing in the morning he made you get up and go see a doctor.

Waiting for the nurses to call you back feels like an eternity, you flip through a magazine as you wait.

“Y/n?” A nurse in pink scrubs calls, holding the door open. You stand up and walk back with her, and she leads you to an exam room.

“We’re going to need a urine sample, and once we have that the doctor will be in to examine you.” She smiles and hands you a small cup and gestures to the small bathroom for you to use.

You lock the bathroom door and then do what the nurse instructed leaving it in the small metal cabinet. You then meet her outside the bathroom and she leads you back into the exam room and you sit there wringing your hands as you wait for the doctor to come in.

It seemed to take a lot longer than usual for them to come back, but you knew that per usual visit before they could give you anything for an illness they had to make sure you weren’t pregnant. Because medications can harm a baby, so all you thought was that the lab was a little backed up.

After a few more minutes the doctor comes in with her clipboard.

“Hi I’m Dr. Henley, I just got your lab results back. And congratulations! You’re expecting.” She smiles at you, and you swore time stopped.

“I’m.. I’m sorry… there has to be a mistake.” You use a shaky hand to push your hair back from your face.

“There’s no mistake, you are pregnant. We can take a look if you want.” She suggests and you nod. Not ready to believe it until you see something for yourself.

She goes into the hall for a moment and comes back with an ultrasound machine. And starts to set it up.

“Alright, just lay on back for me and pull your shirt up and slide your shorts down a little so we can get a good look here.” She pulls the gel off the cart and waits as you lay back.

“Okay, here we go, this is going to be cold, I’m sorry.” She squirts the gel onto your flat stomach, and puts the Doppler on your stomach and starts to move it around. After a moment of moving it around she stops and turns the screen to you as a wishing sound fills the air.

“Here they are!” She points to the screen at two small black sacks.

“They?” You stare at the screen as your eyes fill with tears.

“Yup, it looks like you have twins you’re about 8 weeks, let me print these out for you and give you some information on your options.” She smiles and prints the sonograms.

Once she prints them out she hands a bunch of pamphlets on what your options are and tells you to pick up a prenatal vitamin. On the drive home you can barely concentrate as your mind races with what you’re going to do. You couldn’t hide this from Spencer, he was smarter than that to know when you were lying.

As you put your car in park in his driveway you take a deep breath. Climbing out of the car you clutch the sonogram pictures to your chest. Spencer is sitting in the living room when you enter, his nose in his chemistry book.

Without saying anything you walk up to him and stand in front of him, before he can look up you slide the sonogram pictures down in front of where he’s reading and put your hand up to your mouth as your tears start to fall.

It takes him a moment before he picks up one of the pictures and looks at it. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times as he looks for the right words.

“Is this… is this what I think it is?” He asks as he glances up and takes in your tears stained cheeks.

“Y/n, are you pregnant?” He asks and you nod your head.

“I’m sorry..” you whisper into your hands, and Spencer gathers you into his arms the chemistry book discarded on the floor.

“Don’t be sorry, it was an accident, but we’ll be okay.” He strains against the emotion in his voice.

“It’s twins….” you mutter as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out.” He whispers as he strokes your sides. One hand moving to the front of your stomach where your baby bump will be.

“We’re gonna get through this together.”

~~~~~~

Tag List:

Criminal Minds: @morcialovechild @banananna99 @cynbx

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer #spencer reid x reader #x y/n #family #pregnancy #unplanned #unplanned pregnancy #teen pregnancy #young spencer reid #reid x you #reid x y/n #x pregnant! reader

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bee-tee-ess1 · 4 years

Text

JOONie

- intellectual

- finds philosophical meaning in dog’s poop

- thinks he’s cool-- but isn’t

- cultural hoe

- translator

- extremely clumsy

- breaks everything-- god of destruction

- the office look *stares into the camera*

- always trying his best

- loves sharing random interesting facts-- fun fact: they’re not

- in desperate need of a vacation

- tired of ur shit

- can’t tell left from right

- IQ of 148-- but can’t cut an onion

- names objects and plants

- loves long walks through nature while listening to calming music

- perfect boyfriend material

- the one at a sleepover who wakes everyone up at 3am to discuss some deep philosophical shit

- puts red bull + some chopped fruit in an bowl and calls it cooking

Ji-i-i-i-n

- the mom friend

- worldwide handsome, u know?

- a comedy genius

- weird windshield wiper laugh

- DAD JOKES

- takes credit for raising you

- does what he wants-- screw BigHit, it’s JinHit

- eats enough for 10 people

- works out for 5 min and then eats a huge pizza

- extra AF

- looks like a hoe. actually isn’t

- videogames over people

- cooking skills that would make gordon ramsey proud

- tells jokes & stories no-one laughs at

- is the oldest-- acts like the youngest

- endearing

- goes out of his way to make others smile

- loud AF-- is actually a shy bean

- can’t dance but does it anyway

- can’t rap but does it anyway

- confidence level: 10000000%

Agust D

- spits fire

- tongue technology

- sleeps 24/7-- but extremely productive

- grumpy grandpa

- ‘is he asleep or in a coma?’

- never goes out without earphones

- resting bitch face

- dog person

- gets drunk & rants about capitalism at parties

- embarrassed by friends

- lives off coffee and leftovers from the night before

- alcohol knowledge

- rough exterior and soft interior

- cusses a lot

- reads psychology research papers in spare time

- dreams of becoming a rock

- gives zero f*cks

- not afraid of screenshots-- ‘i know what i said’

Hobi

- ‘i’m your hoe, you’re my hoe’

- literal sunshine

- organizing skill level: 100000000%

- leader qualities

- extremely anxious-- but good at hiding it

- don’t give him alcohol

- a cry baby

- chaotic AF

- loud bish

- scared of everything

- his smile makes flowers grow

- dance god

- cries on the inside all the time

- loves sprite more than life itself

- hopeless optimist

- can’t sit still

- makes weird noises

- go big or go home

- uses emojis and text lingo a lot

- secretly in a girl group

ChimChim

- says sorry all the time

- heart of gold

- too pure for this world

- looks innocent. also looks like a stripper

- dance major

- ‘contemporary IS an artform!’

- *dramatic 360° ballet spin*

- has tequila with every meal

- attention whore

- high-key has the hots for miiiin yooooongiii

- will slap a bish if they hurt taetae

- everyone’s emotional support

- huge perfectionist

- fuck gender stereotypes

- can’t sit properly

- literally ROFL

- needs reassurance and validation

- desperate for physical attention

- will flirt with a plant

- even your dad is in love with him

TaeTae

- believes in aliens

- probably high

- has a list of future baby names

- very moody

- fasion icon-- turns anything into an accessory

- innocent farmer boi

- everyone’s baby

- king of dry humour-- invented deadpan

- Jimin’s ride or die bish

- muscle kink for jungkookie

- voice lower than the ocean

- endless facial expressions

- befriends everyone

- his stare will pierce your soul

- human rights activist

- every girl’s dream GBF

- binge watches movies and anime

- needs to pat every dog

- walking meme part 1

Kookie

- walking meme part 2

- angel vocals

- good at everything-- pro film maker. pro gamer. pro artist. pro athlete

- can bench the entire fanbase

- speaks while eating-- ‘food is life’

- introverted

- scared of anything with a vagina

- spaces out every 0.5 second

- ‘words are hard sometimes’

- disaster gay

- awkward around strangers

- seems arrogant- is an actual sweetheart

- seriously whipped for taetae

- makes edits of namjoon’s thighs in spare time

- videogames over sleep-- sold his soul to satan for gm in overwatch

- hopeless romantic

- e-boy and he knows it

- teen angst personified

- ‘do they make a color darker than black?’

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messrprcngs · 6 years

Text

* THEATRE NERD!PETER PARKER HEADCANONS .

SUMMARY : just some really cute theatre nerd!peter headcanons because i feel like if peter knew anything about musical theatre he’d be really into it PAIRING : theatre nerd!peter parker x reader WARNINGS : none, i think A/N : so this hasn’t really been edited and i may or may not switch from present-tense to past-tense like halfway through it so i’m really sorry but i hope you guys like it anyway ! and if you could send me a message if you like it ? i can be on or off anon, i just really need some encouragement right now because i have a lot of schoolwork to do and actually hearing that people like what i write takes a bit of stress away from me

- okay so i just imagine peter being like super into theatre and honestly it's just the cutest shit ever and i love and stan this concept but anyway - - you're new to midtown high, and you and michelle are, like, best friends. the two have been inseparable since birth, and have gone to the same school since preschool. so imagine your disappointment when you find out that she got accepted to midtown high, this school for geniuses that you didn't get accepted to - fast forward to the end of your freshman year, and you've finally convinced your parents to let you apply to midtown again you also may have accidentally gotten yourself into enjoying musicals, dear evan hansen specifically ( damn tumblr for introducing you to mike faist and his wonderfully amazing hair ). you were hoping for the best, but unfortunately, you were sure that the 'best' you were going to get was a letter from midtown saying something along the lines of "sorry, you didn't make it in. try again next year !" - so imagine your surprise when you get the letter from midtown in the middle of july saying that you did it. you got in - you're so excited for school to start, because even though you've only gone one school year without your michelle by your side, and even though you two saw each other practically every weekend, you missed your best friend - so now it's the very beginning of your sophomore year, and michelle's showing you around the school about half an hour before the first bell rings because a, she's your best friend, and b, she gets extra credit for doing it. even though she doesn't need the extra credit, she likes to have it anyway, for those days when she just really needs to skip school to go attend a feminist rally or a pride parade ( i see her as being like 100 % demisexual okay you can fight me on this i'll win ) - she's shown you everything except your locker so far; your classes, the cafeteria, the courtyard, the auditorium. she even shows you the fucking basement. and now your tugging her away from the chemistry lab because you only have ten minutes til class and you need to put all the extra shit you carry around in your backpack into your locker because if you don't you're sure that your back will snap in half - there are way more people in the halls now than when the two of you first got into the school. mj drags you by the sleeve of your oversized sweatshirt, towards what she says is most definitely your locker, when you suddenly stop in your tracks - there, just feet from you, is the most attractive boy you have ever seen - his hair was brown and an unruly tangle of soft curls and yeah, he was probably a little shorter than most boys your age, but did you give a shit ? the answer was no, you did fucking not - and now mj's looking at you with her eyebrow raised, before her intelligent gaze is following yours and her eyes land on peter and she knows. she fucking knows and then she's smirking so wide and she wants to laugh and you can see it out of the corner of your eye but you're too busy staring at the adorable little bean in front of you and - - and then mj's whispering in your ear, "jeez, y/n/n, drool much ?" and you nearly jump out of your skin. you want to be mad, but then she's laughing and you can't be mad at her because she's your best friend and you love her so much so instead you opt for hitting her on the arm and sending her a playful glare - "shut up !" you exclaim in a whisper, not wanting to draw the attention of mr. too cute for school. "he'll hear you !" - mj let out a breathy chuckle, before crossing her arms to stare right into your soul eyes. "so, how are you going to get past him, y/n/n ? we both know how terribly nervous you get when you have to pass people you think are exceptionally hot." - she was right. you couldn't pass by cute individuals without doing something totally embarrassing to save your own damn life. last time you had tried, you ended up in the hospital with four stitches in your lower lip and three in your chin - "i'll do what i usually do nowadays whenever i'm nervous : i'll just start singing a song from deh. i mean, it's not like he would know anything about the musical, right ? so it won't attract his attention." you nod to yourself, patting yourself on the back for coming up with such a good plan - mj opens her mouth to say something, before closing it and letting that smirk settle onto her lips again. god, did you hate that smirk - you held her gaze for a moment, looking at her warily, before turning around and marching straight forward as you began to sing a song from the dear evan hansen soundtrack; unfortunately for you, it was a song that would definitely attract attention. and you were singing it very loudly - "DEAR EVAN HANSEN, LIFE IN REHAB IS ALRIGHT," you sang. you can hear mj failing to stifle her giggles as she trails after you. "I LIKE THE YOGA, AND THE SHARING CIRCLES EVERY NIGHT" - you were passing him now, the terribly handsome boy who was still at his locker. was it just you, or did you see him turn his head in your direction from out of the corner of your eye ? - "BUT DUDE, THESE STORIES -" and that was when you heard another voice join in with yours. you look back at mj, eyebrow raised in a silent question as you continue to sing. she shook her head and points to the right of you, smirking that irritating smirk - it was him; he was the person singing along with you. your jaw drops open for half a second, before you got back to the song - "SO MANY PEOPLE END UP SUCKING DICK FOR METH !" - and your jaw stops functioning completely once jared's creepy ass laugh starts up in your head. you can't believe that he knew the song; but honestly, that just makes you like him even more - he smiles sweetly at you. "sorry if i startled you. but i just heard you singing the reprise and - well, i guess i just couldn't help myself," he apologizes, giving you a sheepish shrug. god you want to marry this adorable dork - wait, what ? - so first off, just to clarify : yes, peter is still spiderman. he is still the ultimate nerd of midtown high, and is still a chemistry whiz. he just also happens to be really into musicals and shakespeare and stuff and is really gay for michael mell and really straight for veronica sawyer. just imagine that the drama club has replaced the academic decathlon team in this au. okay, now back to the headcanons !! - "i'm peter !" he quickly adds, in response to your gaping mouth. and he sticks his hand out and waits for you to shake it, and it takes you a few seconds to process that yes, he is actually introducing himself to you, and you somehow find the strength to close your mouth. both of your hands shoot up to grasp the one he's holding out, and you manage to stammer out a "i - i'm y/n." - he gives you a smile, and it's a tad less sheepish this time. "so, you like dear evan hansen ?" - and this is when you start in on your long-ass rant about how much the musical means to you and how great it is and how you just love connor murphy and jared kleinman and alana beck with all of your nerdy little heart. and you practically completely forget that mj is even there, even though she's standing about a foot behind you two the entire time. and then the bell's ringing, and peter's asking you what your first class is, and you tell him as quickly as you can because you're hoping, just really, really hoping that you have the next class with him so that you have more time to talk about musicals during passing period. and he grins so wide when you tell him that you have ap world history for first period - the two of you head to ap world history together, and by now you've completely forgotten about mj, who watches the two of you leave with a smirk on her face. she only heads toward her own first class when the final bell rings - by the time lunch rolls around, you already know so much about peter. his favorite subject is chemistry, he has a genius level iq, he has an internship at stark industries. and he's in the drama club. he tells you that ned, the nice boy that the two of you are sitting with, is also in the drama club. ned nods along excitedly, and quickly suggests that you join the club, too - before you can say anything in response, however : "would you losers please stop trying to bring my best friend over to the dark side of the nerd moon ?" - if your guess was 'who is mj ?' then you would be correct, my friend. she's trying to look pissed but she's very clearly smirking and you think that this is the first time that you've ever seen mj fail at looking pissed when it's not solely at you - ned looks so startled and it's really funny and sad at the same time. "you have friends ??" - and now mj's actually glaring at him, and you swear that if looks could kill, ned would have dropped dead a second ago. peter looks concerned, and you don't know if it's because mj is glaring daggers at his best friend or because he knows thinks ned's hurt mj's feelings or something - "yes, i have friends, thank you very much," mj finally says, looking away from ned and rolling her eyes. "y/n/n, you aren't going to make me sit with these losers, are you ?" - you just give her an apologetic smile. she grumbles to herself for a moment, before plopping down next to you, across from ned and peter - lunch that day is spent making some pretty bad star wars puns and rapping hamilton songs, and, of course, listening to mj complain about how all of you are losers ( but you caught her smiling once or twice, and you know she enjoyed it ) - it doesn't take you very long to figure out how things work here at midtown; that meaning, you had somehow managed to befriend the two most loserest losers in the entire school ( those two losers being peter and ned, of course ). you've also found out, much to your dismay, that peter has a thing for liz allan, who not only was head of the drama club, but was also the prettiest girl at school. so much for marrying peter getting peter to like you - despite the fact that your crush's crush was head of the club, you still wanted to join; you had heard that they did a musical at the end of every year, and you really wanted to be a part of that - and so you go to beginning-or-year auditions and drag mj along with you, and you audition together, and you both get in. and you're happy, because you, ned, peter, and mj are friends now ( though you're closer with the boys than mj is. she's still pretending she doesn't like them ) and you really don't want anything else in life at the moment ( except for peter to like you instead of liz ) because you're perfectly happy the way things are - but then about a week later, peter starts acting weirder than normal, and then he's quitting the club - and then ned's starts to act odd, too. one day, and you can't help but think that it's something you did, that maybe they don't like you anymore, and despite mj trying to convince you otherwise during your lunch period, you start to really believe it - and then during gym class later that day, you hear ned saying that peter knows spiderman, queens' resident spider-themed superhero, and that gets you thinking that they didn't just start ditching you and mj because they don't like you, it's because they found someone cooler, someone who made them realize that they didn't like you. and that someone was spiderman - you and mj go to liz's party that night. she tells you that it'll be good for you, getting out of the house. says it'll keep your mind from obsessing over your 'unrequited love' for peter and your new-found hatred of spiderman - but it doesn't. it doesn't, because you see peter there, and you can tell that liz likes him, and it just makes you feel worse. and so you run out of liz's house and end up in a little corner of the front yard crying your eyes out, wishing that peter would see in you what he saw in liz - and that's how mj finds you a few hours later, except you're not crying anymore; you're passed out, snoring softly and mumbling peter's name over and over again in your sleep - fast forward a couple more weeks, and peter's joining the drama club again, just in time to for the theatre competition the club's been invited to in washington d.c. - so you hate spidey, right ? i think it'd be really great if you, like, told peter that when the drama club is at the hotel ? like maybe before liz asks peter if he wants to go down to the pool. like you knock on his and ned's door while they're still working on the suit and they have to shove everything under the bed so that you don't see it before letting you in - alternatively, they just don't let you in at all and peter opens the door and quickly steps out side and closes the door before you can see anything inside the room - and you're a little curious about it at first, but you decide to let it go, and you ask him if him and ned are alright ( "yeah, y/n/n, we're fine. you don't have to worry about us." ) and you just kind of stare into his eyes for at least thirty seconds and peter feels like you're staring down into his soul and he feels a little twinge of something but he dismisses it because the only time he's ever felt something like it is when he's with liz and no, he does not like you - and then you ask him something you've been wanting to know the answer to since you heard ned in the gym : "do you really know spiderman ?" - peter's startled, but he gives a hesitant nod, and he doesn't know why because it's not like he wants to impress you or anything, because the two of you are just friends - and then you let out a quite "oh" and his face falls because you sound disappointed and now he's disappointed anD - - "is - is that bad ?" - and you shake your head and shrug and stand there for a second before managing to get out a soft, "i don't really like spiderman. at all." - and now it's peter's turn for his face to fall because that was the last thing he had expected you to say and he wishes you hadn't said it because it makes him feel like you don't like him, and he knows it isn't like that but it is like that at the same time because him and spiderman are the same person. the only thing is that you don't know that - and he suddenly realizes that he really does like you, and he really wants to change your view of his superhero alter-ego because he can't take you disliking him, even if you didn't know it was him - and then spiderman saves you and the rest of the drama club from that elevator, and you can't decide whether you hate him more or less because on the one hand, he did save your lives, but on the other hand, he's probably so full of himself and thinks that he's just so great and you just want to punch him - so then you get back to new york ( you won the theatre competition ) and everything is kind of okay but you can't stop thinking about the conversation that you and peter had that night at the hotel, and how he looked kind of disappointed that you didn't like spiderman. you put it down to the fact that he's disappointed that one of his friends doesn't like the other ( though were the two of you really even still friends ? ) - and then a few nights after you get back, you're heading back towards your apartment complex after just stopping at the store on the way home from michelle's. and it's late but you don't mind because you've been out late in queens before and you actually really like it - and you hear a noise behind you and suddenly you're paranoid and start thinking about how you left your pepper spray at home and you wish you had it now and - - and then something human-shaped, red, and blue drops down from the lamppost above you before your eyes and you drop your groceries and let out a shriek, before the thing in front of you clamps a hand over your mouth. and that's when you realize that the thing in front of you isn't a thing, it's spiderman, and you're suddenly overcome by the urge to kick something ( preferably his head ) - after a few minutes, you hear a soft "are you going to scream ?" come from behind the mask, and you shake your head. spiderman takes his hand off your mouth, and he just stares at you for a minutes, hanging above the ground attached to his web like some kind of actual spider and it's starting to freak you out - "my friend peter parker told me you don't like me," the spider-themed hero said eventually. you can feel the heat rush to your cheeks and you suddenly wanted the ground to swallow you. sure, you didn't like him, but he was a superhero, and he could kill you in a second if he really wanted to. you just gave him a small shrug and looked away - he let out a chuckle. "i bet i can change your mind." - this, of course, piqued your interest, and you looked back up, eyebrows raised. "are you really so full of yourself that you think you can -" - it all happened too fast for you to really register but when you reached the phrase 'full of yourself,' spiderman reached up for his mask, bringing it down over his mouth, and then his nose, and his eyes, until suddenly it was peter parker hanging before you and he swung forward a little bit and then suddenly his lips are on yours and you're kissing and your eyes are wide before you melt into the kiss and reach up to cup his cheeks with your hands - don't you guys just love the wonderful spiderman upside down kisses like reall y my dudE S

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #headcanons #peter x reader #reader insert #reader insert headcanons #peter parker x reader headcanons #theatre nerd!peter #theatre nerd #peter loves theatre #like rlly loves it #theatre nerd peter parter #the reader also loves theatre #theatre nerd peter parker x reader

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negasonicimagines · 6 years

Text

Teacher’s Pet

Hey dweebs it’s me! So, my gf gave me this request, though I modified it a bit and added an idea I’ve been playing around with in my head, though the original idea was smutty as FUCK ! (so if you want a part two it will be fucking in a classroom hahaaaaaaaaaaaaa) anyway! I did modify it a lil bit sorry babe I’m not that good

Think about this(because I'm looking for some self indulgence) the reader is insanely smart, like super high IQ smart, and as such is super socially awkward and is into Ellie, but of course Ellie doesn't know that. But Wade does because for whatever reason the reader is more relaxed around wade and is actually able to talk to him. And wade of course tells Colossus because Ellie's obvious pining for the reader is obvious and of course Colossus knows. And Colossus and wade talk about it and they try to get the two together but they're both so fucking awkward, like what even are social skills?? And so Colossus pairs them up for everything he can manage to pull the strings to arrange and eventually while working on a project one of the students is like "oh would you two just fuck already," and Ellie is fucking shook and the reader is like "Oh I don't think she'd be interested" and then Ellie is shook×2 because what the fuck is this cutie talking about, she would jump at the chance and she accidentally says something along those lines and jaws drop, faces turn red and Ellie is stuttering and blushing and being very cute(you know how she do) and the reader just smiles and links their pinkies and kisses ellie's cheek and then you can either stop there or continue it but I also have more ideas too

You were thrilled that Xavier was allowing you to return to the school to get your credits as a teacher’s assistant. You’d graduated extremely early, and decided that because you had more time to do college than most, you were going to take the plunge and become a teacher. English had always been your favorite subject, so, of course, that was the genre of teaching you chose.

It was your first day, and you were excited to see the friends you’d left behind. Wade was beside you. You’d done your studying in New York, and as a favor to the X-Men, he’d kept an eye on you, checking up on you from time-to-time to make sure you were taking care of yourself. You were a bit of an eccentric genius, often forgetting to eat, change clothes, et cetera when you were doing something else that you considered more important, like a research paper for class, or organizing your notes so you could study more effectively in the future. He’d accompanied you back home, helping you with your bags.

You’d be doing your college online in the afternoons and evenings, and helping Ms. Frost in her class during the day, teaching entire lessons by yourself every Friday.

“Y/N!” A chorus of voices, a crowd of people your age, some who you barely recognized, rushes at you.

There was a face you were looking for, but you should’ve known she would’ve hung back, waited to say hello. She wasn’t a fan of crowds.

You accept the hugs, even the kisses on your cheeks and forehead, with a grateful, albeit awkward, smile.

Wade looks amused when the large herd finally dissipates. He lifts his mask slightly, licking his thumb and swiping Jubilee’s magenta lipstick off of your forehead.

“Really, just the stuff that’s on my forehead?” you ask with a slight laugh.

“Well, your forehead’s just overkill. But if a certain someone sees lipstick stains on you..”

“She’ll laugh?” You already know where Wade is going with this.

“She’ll be jealous. She was so pissed when she found out I was getting to visit you and she wasn’t.”

“You’re so full of shit, but even if it’s true, that doesn’t mean she likes me like that!” you argue.

“Who likes you like what?” the girl in question asks, and Wade nudges you.

“No one, Ellie. No one likes me.” Smooth recovery, Y/N.

“And here I thought I was the gloomy one,” she says, and you find yourself laughing at an extremely high, nervous speed and pitch.

“So, who left the uh, lipstick?” she gestures at your face, and you think she looks a little more sullen than usual, but it could possibly be maturation.

“Oh, uh..”

“Everyone,” Wade informs her. “Seems like lots of lipstick wearers missed our little jelly bean.” Wade says, ruffling your hair. You narrow your eyes at him, and from the corner of your eye you think you see her do the same. “Well, uh, Y/N, let’s get your bags up to your room, huh?” Wade offers you an out, as the conversation was drying up.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea.” You nod rapidly, and he begins up the stairs. You scramble behind the unnaturally tall man.

“Later, then…” Ellie says, sounding a bit miffed, not that you pick up on it in your nervous state.

“Yeah, uh, later!” you call back to her from further up the stairs. Once you and Wade make it into your room, he bursts out in laughter.

“You’re a human disaster,” he comments.

“No, I’m not,” you pitifully attempt to argue.

“Then, what the hell was that?” he asks.

“I’m a human disaster,” you admit, burying your face into a pillow.

“C’mon, kid, it’s not that hard. She likes you back!”

“No, she doesn’t...And even if she does, like it’d last.”

“Shut up, Y/N! You’ve never even been in a relationship before, how do you know that they’re all bad!?”

“I never should have told you that,” you grumble.

“I won’t die happy if you don’t at least try,” Wade tries to convince you to try.

“You mean you’ll die if I do this? Shit, maybe it’s worth it,” you snark.

“Oh my god, it’s like you’re the same person. Get married. Have her babies. Let her have your babies. I want grandchildren, Y/N!”

“Grandchildren?” you ask, perplexed.

“You’re the closest thing I have to a legacy at this point, you absolute dork!”

“Wow, thanks. I’m so honored,” you scoff, not lifting your face from the pillow you’d buried it into. Wade slides off your shoes for you.

“Listen, I gotta head back to NYC and to my Tootsie Pop Angel Darling Honey Bunny, but I’ll check up on you still, because you’re precious. See you around, kiddo.”

“You got it, Grandpa.”

The door closes, and then you hear a knock.

“Who is it?”

“It’s, uh, me.”

“Come in, ‘Me.’” You reply, face still buried in your pillow.

“You okay?” Ellie asks, and you attempt to sit up too fast, resulting in you flopping around like a dying fish because of the way you’d been lying down. You manage to sit in a normal way, though, but not without getting a rather bug-eyed look from the girl you would rather not get a bug-eyed look from.

“Ellie, hi, yeah, I’m okay, are you okay?” You ask, deflecting as quickly as possible.

“Yeah, I’m fine.. Just making sure you were, y’know, adjusting okay or whatever… Ms. Frost wants to see you and Piotr asked me to make sure you knew where Ms. Frost’s room was… Even though you’ve gone to school here before… It’s dumb, I know.”

“No, it’s fine. That’s really nice of you guys.”

“You’ve still got that lipstick on your face,” Ellie comments.

“Oh, I do, don’t I? Shit!” You scrub at your face with the inside of your blazer sleeve.

She looks bug-eyed again.

“What?” you ask, genuinely confused for once.

“Uh, sorry, I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before,” Ellie explains, appearing actually rather amused.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I kinda picked up the habit. Y’know. College. New York. Wade.”

“So, you guys are like, friends?” She seems conflicted about the idea. Maybe there was some truth to what Wade said before, that she’d wanted to be the one to help make sure you were safe.

“He made sure I didn’t die of sleep deprivation, so, yeah, we’re like, friends,” you reply, chuckling a little.

“Huh. A few of us wanted to visit, but they said you had to focus on your studies.” By a few, she means herself, but you don’t know that.

“Lame,” you scoff. When you weren’t thinking about your big fat crush on her, you could actually form semi-coherent sentences in her presence.

The two of you make your way to Ms. Frost’s room in rather awkward silence.

“So, uh, here is the place you already knew the way to.”

“Ms. L/N!” Ms. Frost sounds rather enthusiastic for, well, her.

“You don’t really have to call me that, Ms. Frost,” you reply, but it’s kind of nice being referred to like a teacher, a peer.

“I should, though! You’re practicing for the real thing! I’ve always thought you should be a teacher,” she says, her last phrase sounding rather somber, like she was remembering something she didn’t want to. Her typical serene expression returns. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Ms. Frost.”

“Well, see you around, Y/N,” Ellie says, having done the required task.

“That’s Ms. L/N to you, young lady,” Ms. Frost half-jokes as the girl with buzzed hair leaves.

“So, I wanted to go over the standards and such with you, so that we could coordinate a proper lesson plan. You’ll be sitting in every day but Wednesday, and then every other Friday you’ll be teaching, correct?”

You nod. “Yeah, I mean, uh, if that works for you.”

“It does, perfectly so. I think doing something different on Fridays will help the students stay more focused. They’re usually so excited for the weekend that they don’t even pay attention,” Ms. Frost explains.

“I remember those days…” You say. “I mean, I always paid attention, of course.” You scramble to clarify, but she just chuckles.

“So, this first week, we’re…”

The two of you continue to discuss the lesson plan, even during dinner. You don’t notice Ellie’s disappointed glances. She’d hoped to sit and talk with you, maybe even set up a hangout of some sort. Oh, well. She should’ve expected you’d be too busy for her. Ellie should’ve shot her shot when she had the chance.

When Ellie walks into her AP ELA class, she forgets she was expecting you. You sit at a desk similar to Ms. Frost’s, but in the back.

Ellie’s spooked, having flashbacks to being in this class together. Copying your answers on worksheets she’d forgotten to do as homework, stealing glances at you at every available opportunity.

She almost misses it, but seeing you all dressed up...That delicious F/C blazer with that crisp button-up that she just knew was hugging your body in a way she could only dream of… It made her not miss it at all.

The seats near your desk are taken, so Ellie settles for the one in the opposite back corner.

Ms. Frost clears her throat, and the pre-class chatter immediately silences.

“Most of you know her already, but if you’re new, or didn’t get the opportunity to meet her when she went to school here, we have the lovely Ms. L/N sitting in with us today.” Ms. Frost gestures to you.

Ellie, happy at the excuse to look at you but not showing it on her lips, turns to you immediately. You’re blushing an adorable shade, and you give a shy wave to the class, who waves back enthusiastically, excited to have someone both old and new around.

Once Ms. Frost begins talking again, the class settles down and begins to listen as they go over the syllabus. Ellie doesn’t stare anymore, but her mind is on you. Surely you weren’t into her the way she was into you, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t at least think about what it would be like if you did.. Well, maybe class isn’t the best time to think about that, she decides, her face a bit warm.

After class is over, Ellie leaves, but not before looking at you one last time. You catch her eye, and give an awkward smile, blushing. Oh, no, did you know? You were pretty damn smart, you probably knew. How awkward! Ellie wants to shrivel up and die as she makes her way to math class.

You watch today’s lecture online that evening, going over your notes from each of Ms. Frost’s classes you attended and condensing them. Someone knocks on your doorframe, and you jolt.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Ellie greets you.

It’s Ellie. You’re a little bit scared, but overall happy.

“Hi, it’s fine, sorry, you startled me. What’s up?”

“Uh, nothing, I was just, y’know.. Uh, walking by, so I thought I’d, I don’t know. Say hi? Uh, forget it,” she explains, leaving. You don’t stop her, but worry about the reason why she was acting so irrationally. Oh, god, she knows. She knows and she hates you. Fuck! You wanna shrivel up and die as you continue to go over your notes.

Friday comes far too soon. Well, at least Ellie was in first period ELA, so it’d be like ripping off a bandage.

“So, we’re going to uh, play a game! You might have played this before, if you’ve taken a keyboarding class, or, um, you may have even played it in another English class. Basically, you’ll each get into groups of five, and work together to write a story. First, uh, one person from every group will draw a slip from this bowl here,” You explain, gesturing to said bowl. “It will have a word or phrase to help inspire the story.” You can feel Ellie’s eyes on yours, and you make contact for a brief moment before looking away nervously, your lips twitching up at the attention, before you get nervous again.

You continue: “Th-then, um, each person in the group gets a turn to write, for exactly one minute. It doesn’t matter who goes first, or what order you go in, as, uh, as long as everyone gets a turn. The point of this is to write a story that flows well, but it can still be funny or weird, in fact, I encourage it, because at the end of the game, each group will read their story for the class. It doesn’t matter how you read it, if you want one person to read it or to let each person read their part, as long as it gets read. After that, the class gets to guess what your inspiration was,” you explain to the rather attentive group, fidgeting as you do so. “Um, you can divide yourselves, if that’s alright with Ms. Frost.” Emma nods. “Any questions?”

Everyone shakes their heads, and they become a herd, scrambling to reach friends and partners and those known for being better writers.

As the game progresses, you set timers and let the class know when they’re over.

“Okay, so, who wants to go first?” you ask.

Jubilation Lee raises her hand, much to her fellow group member, Ellie’s, chagrin.You smile, excited to hear what they wrote.

“Alright, Jub’s group, you first!”

The five shuffle to the front, and Jubilation excitedly reads the story. It’s pretty funny, but you especially laugh in the middle, where the lonely protagonist attended a speed dating convention. The protagonist meets an absolutely beautiful woman; however, the protagonist is only allowed to talk about anything relating to time on Wednesday. It’s Friday, and the woman is asking questions like, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” The protagonist manages to answer other questions, but when the woman asks if she has plans this Saturday, the protagonist can’t say.

After the story is over, and the group sits down, someone from the group who sits near Ellie appears to nudging and smiling at her. She actually looks a bit happy, and you wonder why.

That afternoon, there’s a knock on your doorframe again.

“Ellie?” you ask.

“Nope, just me,” Wade replies.

“Hey, that’s almost as good,” you tell him.

“Almost? It’s better!” he playfully brags, flopping onto your bed. You currently sit at your desk, re-organizing your notes once more. “How’s my precious Y/N been? It’s funny, the day after you left I swung by your old apartment to check on you.”

“Aw, Wade, really?” you ask, a bit surprised.

“Nope!” he cackles, and you laugh as well. “Just kidding again, I did. It’s weird that you’re not in NY anymore.”

“Hey, Y/N- Oh,” Ellie had stopped at your door.

“W-what’s up, Ellie?” you ask.

“Uh, nothing. It can- Um, it can wait,” she decides, looking a bit fretful before leaving.

“Oh, she totally likes you. Totally. Why aren’t you two married, again?” Wade asks.

“Shut up, she does not in any way like me back, Wade. I’m so sure of it. I’m so far from her type.”

“And what’s her type?”

“Anyone but me,” you inform him.

Ellie, listening while against the wall beside your open door, is shocked. She’s, like, so obviously into you that it’s not even funny. You’re a genius and you can’t even tell how badly she wants your legs wrapped around her head! Which is really badly, by the way!

When her section of the story made you laugh earlier, she nearly cried blood, she was so ecstatic! She almost wants to say something, but doesn’t want you to think she doesn’t respect your privacy, or that she’s just some creepy stalker. She really does like you, a lot.

“Oh, well. What’s up, Wade?”

“Do I need a reason to visit my BFFAE?” he asks, and you laugh. Ellie loves your laugh, not that she’d ever tell you that.

“I guess not, but I just figured you would have one now that I’m not one-hundred percent alone.”

“Well, I wanted to check on you. How are the classes going? Have you given anyone detention?! Ooh, that’s one way to get some time alone with her.”

“Wade, that’s creepy. She probably sees me as like, an old person now, anyway. I really need to get over this whole thing, stop allowing myself to feel this way for someone so unattainable, so far out of my league. Because there’s no way she likes me. No. Fucking. Way.” It sounds like you’ve flopped onto your bed.

“Don’t be so rough on yourself, kid. Crushes are normal at your age.”

“Nothing else about me is normal for my age, so that doesn’t really help,” your voice is muffled by your bed.

Well, at least Ellie now knows you like her, too. Now, to do something about it. Fuck, Ellie has no idea what to do. Does she tell you she likes you, too? Does she confess she was eavesdropping? Hell, what if Wade was just being weird, and referring to another girl without saying names, in case Ellie was still in earshot?! It didn’t make sense, but Ellie’s overthinking combined with Wade’s weirdness made for some pretty wacky conclusion trampolines to jump to.

She makes sure to get away before someone sees her peeping.

The following Tuesday, Ms. Frost requests that that the class pair up; however, there are twenty-five students. Every once in awhile, one or two of the mentors that only teach extracurriculars will assist a teacher. Piotr, Ellie’s mentor, was here today.

“Ellie can pair up with Y/N, no?” He suggests, and you look as uncomfortable as Ellie feels.

“That’s a perfect idea, Piotr. Don’t be giving her the answers, though,” Ms. Frost teases, giving Ellie’s crush (you) a wink.

Ms. Frost passes the worksheets down the rows, assigning everyone but Ellie a partner once they are passed along.

Ellie moves to sit with you, and she swears you blush.

“So…” you start, but trail off.

“So,” she replies.

“I guess we’re supposed to read this Greek myth and analyze it? Don’t tell on me, but sometimes when Emma starts talking about lesson plans I zone out,” you tell it to her like it’s a real secret, an adorable little smile on your lips that charms her into one of her own.

“Oh, won’t you two just bang already? The level of denial is obnoxious,” a nearby student groans, and you look like a deer in the headlights. A cute deer, Ellie thinks.

“I’m pretty sure that’d be pretty inappropriate, and even if it wasn’t, I’m sure I’m way below her standards, or anyone else’s, am I right?” You laugh it off, unsure of what you want her to say. A yes would be heartbreaking, but a no would leave you absolutely defenseless to the overwhelming feelings you’d been shielding yourself from for so very long.

Are you crazy? Anyone would be lucky to date you.

You go deep red, then dead-faced, then red. Oh god, Ellie had said that out loud.

“I- Uh- Well- Um…” She tried to remedy it, but no such luck, as she is cut off by Ms. Frost.

“Your relationship drama can wait until after class, Miss Phimister and Miss L/N,” Emma tells the two of you, furthering embarrassing you both.

“So, uh, Perseus. Andromeda. Greek… stuff,” you say, but your hand finds its way to hers, pinkies interwoven on the table as you read. She watches your soft lips move, observing your still-flushed cheeks. You’re wearing a similar shirt to the one you wore the first day, but in black. It looks good.

You feel her eyes on you, so you turn to her. She looks up and away, commenting something snarky about how dumb Andromeda’s parents were. You agree.

Class continues, the two of you filling out the worksheet together and awkwardly discussing how to answer each question.

Throughout the rest of the day, Ellie physically cannot stop thinking about you. If it was bad before, it was terrible now.

She’s on her way to her dorm when she’s stopped by a particularly annoying man in a red suit.

“Hey, you seen Y/N around?”

“How long have you known?” Ellie asks, and Wade seems to get it.

“Oh, about a month after meeting her. I commented on a guy’s really good looks, she said he wasn’t her type. I said, ‘What’s your type? Ugly people?!’ She said, ‘Girls.’ Then-“

“I mean, how long have you known that she likes me?”

“I was getting to that. A few days later, I asked her if she knew you, ‘cause you guys go to the same school and are about the same age. She got all flustered, it was precious.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because that would be really shitty of me to do as Y/N’s BFFAE? Duh! Now, I have a Y/N to find.”

“No, I have a Y/N to find.”

Wade, despite wearing a mask, appears to narrow his eyes. “Wow, she was right. You do have good bone structure. Now go! I want grandbabies!”

You think she has good bone structure? That encourages her, and she checks Ms. Frost’s room. She’d checked yours before running into Wade.

“You just missed her. She’s on her way to your dorm, unless she chickened out after asking me where it was.”

Ellie goes to her dorm, but you’re not there. She looks around, unsure of what to do.

“I thought you were at Y/N’s dorm. That is what I told her when she discovered you were not here at your own,” Piotr informs Ellie, who groans, jogging to your dorm in hopes of catching you.

She does.

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over the place for you,” you greet her nervously.

“Well, uh..” Ellie blushes, having no clue what to say, but she knows what she wants to do, so she does it, and kisses you. It’s clumsy, because she’s never kissed anyone before, but she gets the feeling you haven’t either, so it’s okay. It’s good. It’s perfect.

The kiss ends after what feels like two seconds, but also forever, and Ellie didn’t know it was possible for either of you to blush deeper than you already had been, but it was.

“That was, um.. I liked it.”

“Me too,” she replies. “So.. Do you wanna, like, I don’t know.. date and eventually give Wade the grandchildren he’s so obsessed with having? Well, grand-kittens?”

You nod, a bit speechless at her offer.

“Great. Good work, team,” she begins rambling a bit to fill the awkward silence, and you kiss her cheek, looking at her with a proud smile and a beautiful look in your eyes.

#negasonicteenageimagines #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister x reader #ellie phimister imagine #fanfiction #wlw fanfiction

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littlemisskookie · 7 years

Text

The Runaways: 01

The Runaways: 01 02 03 04 05 06 Ship: Nerd!Namjoon | BadGirl!Reader Description: From the moment you saved Namjoon, you had him hooked. But the question is- are you worth all of the trouble you bring? Warnings: Triggering, Sexual Assault, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Rapeplay, Future Rapeplay, Slight Violence, Drugs Word Count: 8,189 A/N: Trust me it’s going to be intense- especially in future chapters. And definitely extremely triggering.

Officer Kim Seokjin tapped his pen against his chin repeatedly, feeling the little click as the tip of the pen popped out to disappear once again, being simply background noise as his eyes scanned over the file of a missing college student. Well, that, accompanied by the sounds of quiet sobbing from the woman sitting across from him.

"So," Jin started, sighing. "Your son went missing two days ago, and you found out about this around 8 PM?"

"Yes," the woman wept, rubbing her eyes furiously, wiping some of the dribbling snot with her sleeve. "He's an adult, and I waited the 24 hours suggested- but officer, he always comes home around 6. I don't know what happened- this has never happened! He left his phone, his passport, credit card- everything. I don't know what could happen. He didn't even take the car- I think something terrible happened, officer. Please, please tell me what you found out!"

"I understand you're worried," Jin nodded grimly, glancing up to the middle-aged woman, who looked as though she were already twice her age by now, dark circles and bags under her eyes, and a certain shaken look to her features. "We'll do everything we can, ma'am."

"Please!" she begged. "Just tell me where my son is."

"We're working on it ma'am," Jin confirmed, his lips pressed in a thin line. "But we need you to answer some questions first."

Her body shook and trembled as more tears scattered down her cheeks, and she wiped them furiously, giving her cheeks a bit more of a red hue. "Yes. What questions should I answer?"

"Tell me about your son," Jin said, his eyes returning to the file, the picture of a younger, smiling boy grinning up at him. "Was he a good student? Did he do drugs? What kind of people did he associate with?"

"Namjoon was always a very good student," the woman replied, her eyes glazing over at the memory of her son- who could be anywhere at the moment. "He studied hard, had a very high IQ, never got in trouble. He never touched a single drug, and he didn't have many friends, even though he's a theater kid. The other kids never seemed to like him- intimidated was what I told him. Oh dear, what if they're the ones who took him? My dear boy, taken-"

"Ma'am," Jin interrupted. "Finish the questions."

The woman's lips pursed, but nevertheless, she continued. "He did have one friend. Taehyung, from drama. The boy is one we've known for a while, good kid. Follows Namjoon around like a puppy, really, but he's sweet. A decent student, and Namjoon often tutored him. The only friend he had though."

"Taehyung?" Jin clarified, scribbling the characters down into the file. "Could you tell me the surname and address, please?"

"Kim Taehyung," the woman sniffed, following the young boy's address.

Jin jotted it down, nodding his head. "When was the last time you saw your son?"

"Two days ago at our house. He said he was leaving to Taehyung's to tutor him, but Taehyung said he never showed up."

Jin nodded, eyes scanning over the notes he was taken. Looks like they had a lead.

"I really don't know what happened to him," Taehyung shook his head, arms crossed over his knees as he stared down at the rug. He was seated on the couch opposite of Officer Seokjin, his eyes downcast, though worry was tinged in his tone. "This isn't Namjoon-hyung, I know that. He's never missed a class in his life. Or a rehearsal or practice or- anything, really."

"Why don't you start out by telling me how you came to find out he was missing," Jin suggested, crossing his legs, his slender fingers tapping against the edge of the clipboard he propped up in his lap.

"I knew it the moment that he didn't show up to class," Taehyung stated. "Attendance is mandatory for this one class- the only one we share for Tuesdays and Thursdays. Usually, he sits next to me, but he didn't. I thought he was simply still mad at me for an incident that happened about a week prior, so I tried not to think about it too much. The professor then called role, and everyone was there except for this one girl... and Namjoon."

Jin pursed his lips as he hastily jotted down notes. "You mentioned something about an incident that happened before. Could you please go into detail?"

Taehyung bit his lip, a worrisome expression showing through the creases in his face. "You may think less of me, Officer."

"That's alright," Jin stated, fixing his position. "It's not something illegal, is it?"

"No!" Taehyung spoke, his eyes wide. "No, of course not, I could never. But it is... admittedly cowardly."

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Jin asked.

Taehyung took in a deep breath, taking the next step to solving the mystery of Kim Namjoon's disappearance.

"I'm positive I'm going to flunk it," Taehyung groaned. "I can't do this, I really can't."

"Don't say that," Namjoon huffed. "Look, we went over the basics last night. I taught you all of the material you needed to know, it's really simple. As long as you remember those key elements you should be fine."

"I'm not a genius like you! You seem to know how to juggle theater and these classes without a sweat- but I'm not you!" Taehyung grumbled. "I don't even know why I signed up for this class, hyung."

"It's mandatory, that's why," Namjoon rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Now, if you don't pick up the pace and stop dragging your feet, then we'll be late for our test."

"Good!" Taehyung declared. "That'll be great, can we do that instead?"

"You can't run away from all of your problems, Tae," Namjoon mentions. "Those are the people who are really pathetic you know. The ones who can't confront and get it over with."

"That's your opinion," Taehyung grumbles. The two quicken the pace, backpacks bouncing against their back as they hurried along the halls, only for Namjoon's protruded shoulder to bump into a passerby.

It wasn't even a second that passed by before the stranger whipped around, yanking Namjoon by the back of his book bag to collide into the man's chest, where he proceeded to shove him to the floor. Namjoon scrambled from his stomach to his back, trying to crab walk backward, and noticed how his ankle felt a sharp pain from how he originally landed. The stranger was menacing, walking closer as Namjoon scrambled back, and Taehyung went off in a blur, only letting out a squeak as he dashed away.

"Think you're going to get away with such rude manners, asshole?" the man sneered, reaching down to tug on Namjoon's collar, making their noses inches apart. "Maybe I should teach you a lesson."

"It was an accident, I-"

"Maybe you can learn a lesson on brushing your teeth, they're the color of butter," a voice declared. Namjoon and the man froze, each peering over to the small figure that stood directly behind him. Your eyes were staring daggers at the man, a cigarette dangling from your lips, your stance and puffed out chest alluding confidence. "I can smell it from here, shithead. Ever heard of toothpaste?"

The man glared back, letting his fingers go limp as Namjoon fell back to the ground. The boy could only blink as the man stood up, walking towards you, towering over you in fact. "Why do you care about this twerp?"

"Why do you?" you countered, plucking the cigarette from between your painted lips to blow smoke in his face. He coughed, waving it away from his face, and you smirked in response. "Hope you get second-hand cancer, dick."

"I ought you punch you right in the throat, missy," he growled. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't."

"Because if you did, I'll stick this cigarette in your arm," you smiled. "and trust me when I say it isn't pleasant."

Namjoon's jaw was agape at how in control you seemed, and though the man was about three times your size, you still seemed defiant and confident. He studied everything from your ruby lips to your leather jacket, black combat shoes and tight jeans that really shouldn't be permitted in school- at least that's what the teachers would say. He was sure he'd see or notice someone like you- but why were you here if you weren't a student?

"You're wasting your time on this punk, why bother? It's too much work, and we've all got classes to get to," you said, dangling the cigarette between your fingers as you leaned on one leg. "Isn't that right, Nams?"

Nams? That was him, wasn't it? But how did you know his name? "Y-Yes," he stammered, his eyes downcast as he finally began lifting himself up- though rather slowly, in case the man would punch him back down.

You nodded up at the man, eyes piercing and locked. "I suggest you carry along. Surely you've got something better to do."

The bully paused for a bit, as though he were thinking over everything for a moment. Finally, he turned around, sparing Namjoon a glance. "You're lucky she's here to stick up for you, otherwise you'd be a pulp by now."

You grinned at that, wiggling your eyebrows at Namjoon in a sign of victory. The man grumbled to himself, shoving his fists into his pockets as he began to stalk off- that is until he spun around and gave Namjoon a firm punch at the side of the head. Shaking his fist and blowing on his knuckles, the man finally started to walk away, not even sparing a glance to the boy as he fell to the ground.

You walked closer to Namjoon, who was muttering curses to himself as he winced, holding the side of his head, which gave an odd throbbing feel already as jolts of pain scattered across his skull.

"Get up," you said, placing the cig back in your mouth. "You're lucky, you know. He spared mercy. Had he truly been angry, he would've aimed at your eye."

"Oh gee, thanks," Namjoon spat. "I just got hit in the head, and that's what you're saying?"

You shrugged, a small smirk tugging at your crimson lips. You offered a hand to him, which he gladly accepted. "Quit being a baby, it's nothing. You're not even bleeding- he really went soft on you. He must be getting a manicure or something tonight, and didn't want to get his pretty hands ruined."

"Ha," Namjoon weakly offered, fixing his bag on his back.

You quirked a single brow, "Wow, you really don't have manners. Aren't you going to thank me?"

Namjoon gave you a blank stare before processing it all. "Oh, right, sorry. I'm out of it because- yeah. Thank you very much, really, I appreciate it. I would've been a goner, he had me off guard from the very beginning."

"Yeah, he's a big drama queen, you should see him when he's drunk at parties. All he does is cry," you laugh. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Namjoon," he offered, nodding to you. "But you already knew that apparently... Er- do you mind if I ask how?"

You shrug, "You're one of the nerds who's always at the top of the list, and you're in most of my classes anyways. Plus I've seen you in that one play I was forced to see where you play some drunk- that was hilarious."

"You go to classes?" Namjoon blurted. He regretted it immediately, not wanting to come off as rude or ungrateful, but it was an honest question. Why couldn't he just ask why she was forced to go to the play? Well, that really wasn't the question that was prodding at the back of his mind, honestly, so that's why.

You let out a laugh, snorting at his question. "Yes, I do, in fact. I just don't attend classes per se, but I am in them."

"How are you still at this school then?" he asked, bewildered.

"My Dad's the dean, so I was forced to attend," you shrug.

"Oh," he nods, slowly comprehending everything. "What do you do then, since you don't go to classes?"

"Travel I suppose," you mention. "New place almost every other week, really. It's fun, trust me. Used to give my folks a heart attack- but now they're used to it. There's really nothing here for me, so it's nice going to random places and such."

"So you just... go whenever you feel like it?"

You raised a brow. "We're adults, aren't we? Who's to stop me?"

Namjoon thought over it carefully for a moment, but considering the fact that in this small town he still lived with his mother and such, he really didn't have the freedom to travel great distances whenever or wherever he wanted. "No one I guess."

"Exactly," you point out.

"Can I ask why you helped me?" Namjoon asked.

"I don't like when people prey on the weak, it's simple," you shrugged. Personally, Namjoon felt slightly offended by the fact you referred to him as 'weak' but chose instead to ignore it. "Besides, you're kinda cute."

Namjoon's eyes widened at that, his cheeks reddening. "O-Oh, thanks, then..."

You smirked, "No problem, Nams."

Namjoon smiled at that, scratching the nape of his neck nervously. He had been called attractive before, but never by people like you. Then, a realization struck him. "Oh fuck! I'm late for class!"

"You're already late, what's the point?" you say, cocking your head to the side, unsurprised. "Why not just skip while you're at it?"

"No, I don't miss these things, I've gotta go-"

"Why not just come with me?" you suggest. "I mean, I like talking to you so far, you're interesting. So let's be blunt and let me take you out for a bit. Nowhere far, though."

Namjoon couldn't believe his ears. He had gone on dates with girls before, and he had asked, but he only now realized no girl ever asked him before. Was this a date? It was so quick, you were so fast paced, what? And skipping class?

"I'm sorry, maybe next time, I promise," Namjoon said, his tone sounding slightly guilty. "I've got some meeting to go to for drama tonight anyways... so..."

Your face fell slightly, but you didn't seem surprised, instead shrugging as you had already done about ten times since you met him. "That's fine. I'll see you next time- then we'll see what we can do together."

"Maybe, I mean I'd definitely like to," Namjoon admits.

"Say, do you go to parties?" you inquire. "Nah, you don't. Well, there's a party at this fraternity this Friday. I'll be there, so why don't you just come find me and we can hang out some time?"

Personally, Namjoon thought it'd be a lot easier to just give you his number to start texting... but something seemed deliberate in what you were planning. He found himself nodding instead, as though a string were making his head bob up and down in agreement, and he wasn't in control. "I'd like that."

"Great!" you beamed, smoke billowing from your mouth. You pop the cigarette out once more, dropping it to the ground and smooshing it beneath your shoe, twisting your toe into it as the ashes ground into the tile.

"Are you allowed to do that?" Namjoon asked.

"Does it look like I give a shit?" you laughed. "Now, go ahead. You're already late to class."

"So, you have no idea about the interaction after you left?" Jin questioned, quirking a brow at the young boy.

Taehyung shook his head, "No. Well, when I ran a girl stopped me and asked why I was running, and I said that someone was about to hit my friend Namjoon. She simply scuttled away after I said that piece."

The officer found this piece rather enticing, and a digging feeling in the back of his head encouraged him to prod at the subject some more. "This girl, can you tell me about her?"

Taehyung's brows jumped in surprise, clearly shocked that Jin would jump off topic. "Well, she was the other girl who was absent, as I mentioned before. She always skips classes, sir, and it's common that she's out of town. She runs away a lot, but it's no big deal, she always returns."

"Tell me more," the officer leaned forward. This could go someplace, Jin just knew it.

"Her name's Y/N. From what I know she smokes, rides a motorcycle, and goes to parties. She's considered no good." Taehyung gulped, "In short, she's trash."

Jin quirked a brow. "Trash? What, is she poor?"

"No, she just chooses to sleep around and do drugs and such. It was her own choice- and she's not poor from what I know," Taehyung shrugs.

"Did your friend know her before this encounter?"

"No," Taehyung shook his head. "I only knew of her, but I never actually talked to her."

"Have you had any interactions with her since? When's the last time you saw this girl?" The officer narrowed his eyes, prodding. "When was the last time your friend saw her, might I ask?"

"Sir, I don't understand. What does she have to do with Namjoon-hyung? Shouldn't we focus on him?" Tae frowned.

Jin's brows scrunched together. "Don't question me, kid. I know what I'm doing, and this could mean the difference between life and death for your friend. Lord knows when a smart boy sees something he wants, he's bound to try and get it. The thing is, the smart ones never really get what they want in the end- they just learn from it."

"What?" Taehyung blurted out, bug eyed.

"I see why your friend was the smart one," Jin sighed. "Now, tell me, when's the last time your friend saw her? And you too."

"Well, hyung told me about the last time and updated me- it was probably a day or two after the hallway incident," Taehyung murmured, racking his brain. "It's... rather sickening, really."

Jin scrawled down some notes, the ink flowing from the tip of his pen, and he felt as though they had a lead.

"Can't we just stay at your place and watch video games or something?" Taehyung groaned. "Tech night really wore me out man, all that building and everything- and the play isn't for another three months! We're on set this year and you already know how much drilling tires me out."

"You get tired from holding the damn thing up- you'd be equally as 'tired' from holding up a game controller," Namjoon pointed out, rolling his eyes as his hand wrapped around the knob of the door. One twist of his wrist and he'd unlock the world theater kids and nerds alike usually didn't have time for- or at least, were perceived to be too busy for. Though, truthfully, Namjoon was always very busy.

Taehyung pouted. "You never go to parties. I never go to parties! What's the deal?"

Namjoon's mouth went dry, his lips parted as he tried to think of an answer. "I just... want to do something new."

Taehyung snorted, "Since when were you the spontaneous type?"

"Since now, dickhead. Now, get in already- you're in college, act like it," Namjoon grumbled at the younger boy, finally opening the door to see a boy with a horse mask sliding down the rails of a staircase, shooting off the end to land at their feet.

"Oh, great, something new! Be like everyone else in college, great idea!" Taehyung snorted. "I'm heading to the kitchen to steal someone's food, and call me when we can leave. You're my ride, remember?"

"Yeah yeah," Namjoon said, waving his hand dismissively, his eyes roaming among the mix of either casual tropes or utter chaos. He was already familiar with this sort of thing- unbeknownst to Taehyung, he had visited one or two parties, he wasn't a virgin, and he did drink. Well, the parties were too crowded and noisy for his taste, and he lost his virginity to a high school girlfriend, and the only drink he ever had was when his mom let him taste her wine on occasion. But it was ahead of Tae, that was for sure.

His eyes scanned girl after girl, not bothering to roam across their popped out breasts or the skirts shorter than his own boxers. He was looking for you. Oddly enough, since that one conversation with you, he could think of nothing else. You were always on his mind, and nothing else consumed him other than thoughts of you. Those few days between the last encounter ate him up, and he was anxiously waiting to be in your presence once again. It was as though simply being around you sated him, like a drug. And now he needed to be near you to calm his cravings for the time being. He'd be satisfied by simply standing next to you for five minutes.

You weren't anywhere here, and he found himself rudely shoving past people. He didn't know them- they weren't in his classes or drama club from what he could tell. They weren't really anything. They were just in the way to you, it seemed. They were blocking the view, and he couldn't find you.

Well, he couldn't find you until he finally wandered into one of the living rooms. Smoke was everywhere, and it reeked of weed and alcohol. Namjoon coughed hoarsely, waving the smoke away from his nose. He never smoked weed, and he didn't have plans to do so. It was so thick, it seemed as though someone slipped a grayish filter over the room. Why'd you invite him to this party if you weren't going to tell him where you were? What if you weren't here at all? What if it was some sort of sick joke- to get a drama nerd's hopes up. He couldn't focus on his pessimistic thoughts, though. The weed helped with that.Gross.

Over the R&B music, he strained to hear. He heard mutters, about a dozen different conversations, and he was about to leave the room to continue his search when he heard a rather distinct snicker. He turned, walking closer to a couch.

There were three guys. One was wearing a beanie, and another was wearing a baseball cap. The third wasn't wearing any artifact on his head at all. They were all surrounding a figure on a couch, their hushed whispers and giggles very contradictory to the rest of the scene, though perhaps that's what kept any eyes from being drawn to them in the first place.

"I can't believe you actually did it," the hat-boy says in a hushed whisper. The boy without a beanie smirked, his fingers grazing over the arm of the woman on the couch- at least Namjoon thought it was a woman, it was hard to tell in the dark.

"I told you it'd work, she didn't even notice," he snickered. Namjoon stepped a bit closer, out of view from the boys as he sidestepped towards a girl with a lot of piercings, busy lighting a blunt. "Took a swig right as I was chatting her up."

Namjoon squinted his eyes. It was a woman dressed in a tight tank top and leggings, half passed out on the couch. Her hair was a mess- as was her makeup. Namjoon had a sinking feeling he knew who it was, but he couldn't be sure unless he got closer. He stepped more towards the side, trying to get a clearer view of the girl's face.

"So what now?" the third boy asked.

Beanie boy grinned, "I think we all know exactly what." Namjoon watched as his hand slithered further up the girl's arm, fingers hooking into the straps of both her bra and tank top, tugging both so far down until a single breast was revealed. He didn't hesitate, his hand landing on the flesh to give it a soft rough squeeze, rolling the nipple in his palm as he molded the flesh in his hand.

Hat-boy's eyes widened. "Dude, you're doing it right here? In front of everyone?"

Beanie-boy scoffed. "No one's paying attention, relax. And if we do have some fun we'll just take her upstairs- no one will notice."

The third boy swatted hat-boy, "Are you really going to miss the chance to feel up Y/N?"

Beanie-boy grinned maliciously. "We'll be doing a lot more than that, I assure you."

Namjoon's face paled, watching as hat-boy's fingers hesitantly went to your soft mound, replacing the other boy's hand as he tweaked the soft bud, playing and toying with it. You groaned in your half-awake state, shifting on the couch. The third boy took your wrists, pinning them above your head and near his crotch, trying to subtly rub your fingers against his growing erection. Beanie-boy was already dipping his hand down your leggings, his hand shifting and moving beneath the fabric.

He couldn't help but think about how your skin felt beneath the soft pads of their fingertips. Probably soft and plush, molding between the guy's fingers as the flesh rolled in his palm, perky buds hardening and pressing into his hand. Namjoon shook the thoughts from his head, disgusted with the fact he was thinking so perversely at such a wrong time. He was disgusted with himself.

Namjoon felt sick, his stomach churning and mind spinning. He felt so queasy, witnessing you getting assaulted, your half-lidded eyes peering as much as you could at your assaulters. Your wrists wriggled in the third boy's grasp, who now had them clasped with one hand, moving your fingers against the fabric of his jeans as he held his phone in front of your face. You winced, the bright light causing you to squint your eyes and let out a low groan as he took a picture of your wrecked self.

No one was watching. No one was paying attention. They were all too high to notice- to care! Namjoon had a lump in his throat. He wanted to do something. He needed to do something. But what could he do? He was just a nerd- and these were three guys who were fixing to drag you out of that door any second now and perform how ever many obscene and grotesque acts they could think of.

But you saved him. And he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he couldn't save you in your time of need. He just needed to think like a character. He was simply playing a role of someone far braver and far stronger than he could be. In this moment he shouldn't be Kim Namjoon- he should be anyone but.

But this wasn't a stage. There was no blinding light aimed at him, no other person glaring at him to make his cue. This was a disgusting frat part where a girl was being assaulted. But if he could simply close his eyes, imagine the scene where he morphed into someone he knew he could never be, then perhaps he could pull off this character as well.

And this character certainly wasn't going to stand around.

He took a deep breath, curling his fist into a ball, and stepped out from behind the piercing-girl to stomp towards the guys, not even thinking before he rammed his fist as fast as he could into the guy wearing a beanie. Pain jolted across his fist, and he wanted to let out a hiss of pain. Instead, he simply kept his poker face, whining internally about how much he wanted to gnaw on his knuckles and hop up and down, screaming. He barely had time to comprehend exactly what happened until he glanced up at the boy, still slightly staggering back, cursing loudly as he held onto his jaw. Yikes.

"What the fuck, you prick!" the third boy yelled, lunging back. Namjoon didn't have time- it was three against one. There was no way he'd be able to defeat all of them. So instead he quickly scooped you up, running as quickly as he could as he pushed people aside, making half of them sputter and cough on the smoke they were inhaling.

Namjoon's heart was still racing by the time he buckled you into the passenger side of the car, your breast still hanging out, and your head lolled to the side. It took forever to get you here, since you were staggering and tripping over everything, a complete stumbling mess as Namjoon clutched tightly onto your waist. You were blinking slowly, though still very drugged out. You were staring at him now, narrowing your eyes as though trying to make out the details.

Namjoon's heart was hammering in his chest, his breathing deep and quick as he slammed his fists against the steering wheel, the knuckles on his right hand marked with blood. He hissed through his teeth. Fuck. He actually did it. A little theater nerd fucking punched a rapist.

Taehyung.

Ah shit, he forgot about the kid.

Fishing his phone from his pocket, he quickly scrolled through Recents and called Taehyung, where it rang twice before Tae answered. "Hello?" the deep voice murmured. "Ready to go so soon? Finally."

Namjoon's hand slid over his face in exasperation. "Hey Tae, look... something came up. I don't think I can drive you home today."

"What the fuck?!"

"Let me explain!" Namjoon exclaimed before Taehyung could curse more. "Y/N was being assaulted, I have to take her home or something. It's an emergency."

"Y/N? As in Y/N Y/N?" Taehyung gasped. "The motorcycle chick? The hell, why would she be getting assaulted? I'd think she'd be too smart or tough to let that happen."

"She was drugged," Nams explained. He glanced over at you, your eyes fluttering slightly to stare up at him, though your gaze was hazy and unfocused. "Look, I've gotta go, she seems to be waking up. Can you find another way home?"

Taehyung let out a deep sigh. "Alright, alright, I'll find a way. This is shitty, but you owe me one. I'm not going to act like a dick towards some girl who almost got raped."

"Thanks, kid," Namjoon smiled, letting out a breath of relief. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"You better." With that, Taehyung hung up. Namjoon slid the phone back into his pocket, glancing over at you.

"Y/N?" he questioned, waving a hand across your face. "Hey, you there?"

"Nams?" you grumbled. "Holy shit, I'm probably still drunk."

"Probably," Namjoon chuckled nervously. "How do you feel?"

"Drunk," you murmur. Your words were slurred together, slow and incoherent, and Namjoon strained to catch your words. "And drowsy."

"Figured," Namjoon nodded. "Look, I'm gonna take you home, so just give me your address and I'll drive you there. I'll explain everything in the morning, ok?"

You gave him a blank stare, which slowly morphed into a smile. "We're going home together, eh?" you snicker. "I move faster than I thought drunk."

"What do you mean-" Namjoon's sentence was cut off when you leaned in, grabbing the collar of his shirt to slam his lips against yours. Your chapped lips were moving against yours, and he could taste the smooth gloss. Cherry. It was faint though because you definitely tasted like beer, and no offense to you or anything, but it definitely tasted like ass. He made a mental note never to try beer, since all he ever had was white wine. Still, his mind seemed to blur at how your lips moved against his. His eyes were shut, and he found himself leaning in closer to your sloppy kiss, letting your tongue slip in his cavern as he melted into the sensual act.

You pulled back, a mischevious and drunken grin spread across your face. "Taking advantage of a drunk girl, huh?" you snickered. "Didn't peg you as the type."

Namjoon's eyes went wide, "What? No! I swear that wasn't my intention-"

"Shh," you murmur, knocking your knuckles against his bicep. "Relax, I want you anyway."

This didn't make sense to him. You were just drugged, but you're functioning way better than he expected you to. You just seemed drunk- not drugged. And you seemed to accuse him of trying to take advantage of your state- and you wanted him anyway? He knew girls were confusing, but not this confusing.

You plastered the smug smirk on your face as you looked at his baffled expression. "Did you like kissing me, Nams?"

"I-I," he gulped, "We should get you home."

He turns to grab his keys, but you stop him, your hand limp over his wrist. "No, answer the question first."

"Yes, I liked it," Namjoon huffs. "Now c'mon, tell me the address and let's get you home."

You smiled victoriously, slumping back in your seat, letting your hand slip off of his. Your eyes glaze over the car's interior. "You've got a nice car," you murmur. "Better than my bike, that's for sure."

"Oh shit, you used that to drive here didn't you?" Namjoon slapped his palm against his forehead. "We can go get it, if you want. I don't know how we'll transport it, but-"

"Relax, I got a ride from Kyle," you chuckled. You pointed to the top of your head, "He's got a maroon beanie and striped shirt- he may be wondering where I am-"

"That's the guy who just tried to rape you!" Namjoon hissed. "I punched him in the face!"

"You did?" you look at him in disbelief. "Good for you then."

"Are you not going to address the fact he and two others were trying to drug and take advantage of you."

"Thanks for ruining the fun, I didn't know there were two others," you mumble.

Namjoon guffaws. "What? You want to get raped?"

"I wasn't drugged, I was just drunk. And a little high, maybe. Besides, I've been waiting for something like that to happen since Freshmen year. Kyle wasn't discrete when he slipped in the drugs, but I played along. I'm wasted."

"You're insane," Namjoon shakes his head, not believing a word.

"Maybe," you slur, laughing as you poke a tree-shaped air freshener that was hanging from the tiny mirror, watching it swing and spin. "I'm weird. I'm not normal. I've accepted it. You like me anyway though, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I see it even now, Nams. You've got that puppy doll look like you want to protect me, like I'm a fragile little doll," you snicker. "You want me, I know you do. You want me too."

Namjoon's cheeks blushed furiously red. "You're not in the right mind, Y/N. You're spitting out gibberish."

"Am I?" You turn to him, your glazed expression blank as your hand goes to his crotch, rubbing slowly in circles. "Then how come you're getting a boner? If it was because of someone else, you'd be with them right now. We both know it."

Namjoon shuddered, moving your hand. "You're drunk."

"You didn't care when you kissed me."

"You kissed me."

"You didn't pull away though," you pointed out. "Nams, why are you denying it. I like you too already, why do we have to pretend to be oblivious?"

"I hardly know you, and this is going way too fast for me to comprehend," Namjoon stammers. "I have to think. You and I barely know each other- we haven't known each other for long. We're already polar opposites."

"Just answer this simply," you huffed. "Are you attracted to me? Have you been unable to get me out of your mind recently?"

Namjoon was hesitant, thinking it over. "Yes."

"Then there you go," you shrug. "Feelings are feelings- time doesn't give a shit. That's why they form in seconds and fade in years. We don't live long so let's not waste our time when we could simply spend it enjoying ourselves and each other."

"You... that's unexpectantly wise," Namjoon murmured.

"Ugh, I'm turning into a philosophical drunk," you rolled your eyes. "Alright, I live in one of the dorms- you know that girl Stacie? Yeah, where she is- can't remember the number right now, I'm about to fall asleep. You know the place?"

"Yeah, I know," Namjoon nodded.

"Yeah. I'm in the same building. I'll direct you from there," you yawned. "I need to sleep."

"Yeah," Namjoon nodded. "Get some rest, it's been a long night." He scooped up his keys jamming them quickly to start the engine.

"You've got a nice car," you mumble again, drifting off. "Maybe one day we'll drive off in it... into the sunset... like Grease."

Namjoon couldn't ask you to elaborate on that, because within a second, you were out like a light.

"So you have no clue what happened afterward?" the officer glanced up to the college student.

"No sir," Tae shook his head. "I found my ride home when I called someone else in drama. But I have no clue what happened after he dropped her off at her place."

Jin felt as though the clues had somewhat been tied together as to what happened to Nams or where he was. He slipped his pen into the clipboard and rose from his chair, stretching out his arm to shake hands with the younger. "Well, that's all the information I need from you right now. Thank you very much for assisting the police force. Hopefully, everything will be back to normal soon."

"No problem, officer," Taehyung muttered. He let out a sigh of relief, as though he had been holding his breath in ever since Jin stepped into the door. "I hope you find him soon."

"So do I," Officer Seokjin nodded, making his way out of the apartment. He couldn't help but wonder, even if he had some sort of clue as to what could've, what exactly happened after Namjoon dropped you off.

Namjoon fell asleep leaning against the night stand, his jaw agape as he snored on. It wasn't until he felt a nudge on his shoulder that he woke up, looking up to you. Light poured into the window, feeling warm enough to the touch that Namjoon knew it had to be late morning or the middle of the day. Staring up at you, he noticed the glass of water in your hand and a rather tired look in your eye. Bags hung beneath your eyes, and your hair was a frizzy mess at this point. You looked like more of a mess than Namjoon remembered, but he was ok with that.

"So," you say, "my knight in shining armor. Saved me from getting violated, huh?"

"Surprised you even remember. You were so drunk, stumbling and slurring your words. And I'm pretty sure you were drugged," Namjoon recalled, craning his neck forward to scratch the back of his head. His back ached, and he arched it as he sat up. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, I've had worse hangovers. I wasn't blackout drunk," you said. "You didn't have to save me, though. But I'll thank you anyway. I was so tired and beat, a combination of high and drunk, I couldn't move much at the point Kyle started trying to get me to the couch. But even if you didn't show up, I would've been fine. I'm slightly disappointed you stepped in anyway."

Namjoon had a bewildered expression on his face. "What do you mean by that? And let you get violated? Or worse, raped?"

You smirked slightly, "Well, Nams, considering the fact you saved me last night, I suppose I have to trust you, even with my darkest fantasies and secrets. Think you can handle them? Because you can't say a word."

"I was just repaying the favor," Namjoon admits. "Well, and doing the right thing."

"So noble," you roll your eyes, but your smile grows. "Namjoon, do you know what kinks are?"

"I wasn't born yesterday."

"Ooh, getting sassy. Like how you were with Kyle," you winked. "Didn't think you had it in ya, drama nerd. But you don't fail to survive me. Well, truth is, Nams, I have one in particular."

"What, like BDSM?" Namjoon's brows scrunched together. What did this have to do with anything? He was baffled.

"Worse," you admit, grinning from ear to ear. "Maybe it's because I'm hungover- I tend to act regrettable when I'm hungover. But I think I'll enjoy telling you this. I've never told anyone before. But I have some sort of rape fantasy."

Namjoon's face paled slightly as he slowly comprehended what you were saying. "Oh..." he coughed, bringing his fist to his face.

You snickered. "Wow, you look like I just told you I killed a puppy."

"So... so you like getting raped and stuff?" Namjoon asked nervously, a bit uncomfortable.

"What? No, no, not at all. I've... I've never been raped, in all honesty, nor do I plan to be. I've been violated before, sure, but I always stopped it before it got anywhere," you admitted. "But I've always been curious and rather intrigued- who am I kidding, turned on by the idea I suppose. But I'm not actively looking for someone to just- ok, you know what rape play is?"

"No," Namjoon shook his head. Jeez, he barely comprehended what BDSM was.

You sigh. "Basically, the two parties involved have an established safe word and signal, but you have consensual nonconsent. So no matter how many times one party says 'no' or 'stop', you know they don't actually mean it. But if they give the signal or safe word, you know you should actually stop. Rapeplay more or less uses that to where the person acts out violating the other and having sex with them, but everything is actually under control."

Namjoon blinked. "And you do this often?"

"Only a few times," you admitted. Your cheeks didn't taint pink, and you didn't seem ashamed. Instead, you gulped down more water, ( Namjoon assumed you already had some medicine for the headache) and stared him in the eye. "And it was the best sex I've had in my life."

"Oh, that's nice to know," Namjoon coughed. "I... thanks for the info?"

You laughed. "Nams, calm down. It's uncomfortable to talk about, sure, but I wanted you to understand what my thoughts were on last night."

"So you wanted to get raped by them?" Namjoon asked you.

"No. If I'm going to do rapeplay, I'd do it with someone I trust, not with sleazebags. But I guess part of me was secretly craving for the sensation I get when it does happen," you shrug. "Namjoon, I'm guessing you've never tried it. Wait, are you a virgin?"

"I'm not," Namjoon said immediately.

"Don't get defensive," you snickered. "Just wondering. Well, would you be able to get into kinks like that if your partner wanted it?"

"I mean... I don't know, I've only had sex with one person, and it wasn't all that kinky," Namjoon shrugged. "But I guess if they needed it to feel fulfilled or satisfied I'd do it. As long as everyone's safe."

You hum, tapping your finger against the glass. "Good to know. Good to know."

Namjoon looks down, "So are you alright now and everything? I'm... surprised you're telling me all this."

"Look, you saved my life. Or my non-existent virginity," you winked. "I trust you with anything now. Otherwise, I'd probably be passed out behind some dumpster with various trash shoved up places they shouldn't be. Sure, Kyle didn't actually drug me since I made sure not to drink whatever pill he popped in- but I was so majorly drunk he really didn't need to. In that state, I would either be agreeing to anything or helpless- and end up with perhaps seven different STD's." You laugh at that last part.

Namjoon smiled meekly too. God, what was it about you? You seemed so easy going about this, so nonchalant after something that would be traumatizing. Yet here you were joking about it, with a hangover no less. Somehow it made Namjoon's thoughts only more enveloped with ideas of you.

"I'm surprised you're so chill about it I guess," Namjoon said. "But I never really knew much about you other than you smoked and run away often."

"Yeah, another heist after the next until they finally give me the liberty to leave this dump," you chuckle. "I'm leaving soon, actually."

Namjoon cocks his head to the side. "You are?"

"Yeah," you nod. "A friend of mine is letting me borrow his car instead of just letting me leave on my motorcycle, so that'll be sweet. Nothing like a good ol' road trip, am I right? Course, I'll need some cash or something for the ride- to get more cash, of course."

"Where are you heading?" Namjoon murmured.

"City several miles south of here," you grin. "It's big, far from here, and I've got connections. It's perfect for now honestly, and I've got some business to attend to. Besides, it's fun."

"When do you think you'll be back?" Namjoon asked.

"Dunno. Maybe a week after? Or a month? However long I feel like it I suppose," you shrug. "You know, you're more than welcome to tag along."

His eyes widened, and he stared up at you in disbelief. "You're joking, right?"

"Not at all," you shook your head. "I said you've got my trust. Besides, I could use the company for the trip. Haven't you always wanted to go on an adventure or something?"

"I... I don't know," Namjoon sheepishly admitted. He'd miss a lot of tech nights or rehearsals. And his mom would be pissed. Not that he wanted you to know he was worried about either of those facts. "I'll think about it."

You smiled. "Great. I leave in three days at 9 PM- have to get an early start you know. Meet me in front of my dorm building if you're in. If you aren't there, I'll get it. No hard feelings. It's up to you."

Namjoon's smile was wavering, and his heart thundered quietly in his chest with excitement. "I... thanks. We'll see."

Eventually, the chatter reached a minimum, and Namjoon had to head home. His mother was probably waiting for him, but as he headed out of the door, with your hand on the knob, you stopped him.

"Nams, one more thing before you leave," you mention. He looks back, wondering what you could have to say, but as it turns out, speaking wasn't on your mind. Instead, you brought him into a kiss, your hand on his cheek as you pulled him in, and your eyes shut. The kiss was sweet and innocent, no violent tongue jabbing or sloppy movements. It was careful and soft, and you didn't taste like weed or an ashtray or booze. But it was over before he knew it, and he was face to face with your grinning self. "Just wanted to say you were a good kisser," you winked. And with that, you shut the door.

Namjoon had a wad of dollar bills shoved into the pocket of his jacket, along with a backpack filled with snacks and spare clothes. He was going off the grid. He couldn't believe he was actually doing it. He could not believe. But after what happened with you from the very beginning, he couldn't stop from thinking of your pretty face or your daring charms. You were everything he wanted to be, the character actors yearned to play. And perhaps through time with you, Namjoon could be one as well.

He wasn't interesting, he felt as though he wasn't. He felt as though he were boring simply playing minor characters and working backstage. Living with his mother as a grown adult and had only one actual friend. He focused on grades and theater and practically nothing else nowadays. Hell, he was deserving of an adventure. He was deserving of being interesting.

So he snuck out of his house with a few supplies last minute and a wad full of cash, telling his mother he was studying with Taehyung. Instead of books, his backpack was crammed with food and clothes, and he was running as fast as he could to you. You lived close by since his mother's house was close to the school. And though Namjoon was relatively in shape, he still had the wind knocked out of him as he got to you.

When he saw you, it was already 8:56 PM, and you were slamming down the trunk of the car, a rather beat up one with worn blue paint and a characteristic that showed how perfect it was for you. You were wearing a denim jacket and torn jeans, a black crop top exposing your stomach. You glanced over to Namjoon, who was breathing heavily as he looked to you, his bag clutched tightly in one fist, and a look of both determination and devotion in his eyes.

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stydiasecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Summer Last

He ran out the next morning, and Lydia thought her summer fling would be just that - a summer fling. Then the boy tried to contact her by going on the Ellen show to tell the world about their tryst.

For Jenn (@stilinskikissme) - Happy holidays Jenn! You keep my feed full with stydia gifs so I never starve. Hope this fic satisfies you the same way.

“Not your cup of tea?”

Lydia turned her head and quickly found the owner of the voice. She raised her eyebrows, mildly surprised to find someone who looked her age at this event. He was tall, lanky, eating with his hand. His plate was piled with all the snacks the buffet table had to offer - cookies, fruit tarts, spring rolls, you name it. She figured he must have had some sushi too; fat grains of rice clung to his noticeably long fingers.

She gave him a noncommittal shrug. “I’m more into the molecular side of biology, but it’s fairly interesting, I guess. I just haven’t had the best day, and someone was supposed to be here with me, but well…”

She waved her arm at the space next to her. The boy nodded, his whole head rocking back on forth on his head.

“Yeah, I get it. I was dragged here by my best friend, who is now networking with one of the presenters.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I think he’s way too excited to start college. He’s in pre-vet. He loves animals.”

He picked up a mini tart after he spoke and shoved it into his mouth, sucking his fingers off as he did so. Lydia’s eyes were inexplicably drawn to the action, his moving pink lips, his long, slender fingers.

Was it just the tungsten lighting? She had never seen lips so naturally pink in her life.

She swallowed, half-mortified by her sudden train of thought, and chose to pick at her own plate of buffet food. Namely, softshell crab handrolls. (Kind of ironic that they were serving seafood at a symposium about marine wildlife conservation.)

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the boy watching her. She turned to face him, questioning brow raised, but he simply grinned casually and bit off half a spring roll. The movement brought Lydia’s attention to his mouth again.

“So, you two just finished high school, I assume?” she asked, forcing herself to think about something else. School was a safe topic. She loved school. She could go on and on about academics.

The boy nodded his head vigorously. “Yep. You too?”

Lydia puffed out her chest. “Yes. Well, I could have graduated early, but I stayed on to be with my best friend.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “I get that. I could never leave Scott - my friend - not that I was smart enough to graduate early, though. That’s amazing. So, you took college credits throughout last semester?”

“Last year,” Lydia corrected, revelling at the way the boy’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, the way his jaw dropped in awe. “Enough to matriculate as a junior.”

She preened as he gaped at her. No one had really reacted to her intelligence this way before. Lydia decided she quite enjoyed it.

“Wow,” he finally managed. “Which school?”

Lydia smirked. “MIT”

“Holy sh- how do you even do that?” he asked, waving his arms and surprisingly not sending any food flying all over the place. “Oh my god. I’m standing in front of an actual genius. So, are you gonna win the Nobel prize someday?”

“Fields medal,” she told him. “I’m studying mathematics. But I might pick up bioengineering too.”

“Wow,” the boy repeated, running a hand through his short hair to express his disbelief. “And here I am, a lowly criminology major.”

Now it was Lydia’s turn to raise her brows.

“That’s nothing to snuff about,” she told him. “It’s important to society. Personally, I find the forensics aspects very interesting.”

“Thanks. And yeah, ‘cause you’re a genius,” he replied through a mouthful. Lydia watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Forensics is cool,” he babbled, “but I think I’d lose my mind sitting in a lab everyday. I’ve had a string of terrible experiences in science labs. Spilled some hazmat once. Left the gas valves on. Eroded the edge of a bench because I was reacting random chemicals off it. My chemistry teacher hated me, although he later turned out to be complicit in arson so he could have always just been evil…am I talking too much? I’m talking too much. I’ll shut up now.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly watching for her reaction. Then his whole body twitched, as if a thought literally jolted him, and he offered his hand.

“I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“Stiles?”

Lydia hadn’t meant to sound rude. Fortunately, the boy merely chuckled, unfazed by her reaction.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. It’s a nickname, and trust me, it is a lot easier to say than my real name,” he explained.

Lydia shook his hand.

“Well, Stiles, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lydia.”

“Lydia,” he breathed. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks.” Her voice came out as a whisper.

No one knows how long they stood there, hands clasped between them, eyes locked on each other’s, but it was only when Stiles’ body twitched again, breaking the moment, did Lydia realise what they had just shared.

“Hey, um, do you wanna go for a walk?” Stiles jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards the waning light outside.

Lydia looked over her shoulder, eyes sweeping the longhouse one last time. None of the posters fascinated her more than the boy next to her, so she shrugged her shoulders and raised her plate to him.

“Sure, just let me finish this.”

Stiles looked down at his own plate, as if just remembering all the food he had piled on it. “Oh, right.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles was good to talk to. That is, when he didn’t go off long, unrelated tangents. Like when Lydia explained that Allison wanted to go for a run and so didn’t accompany her to the symposium, he launched into an account of all his Most Tragic Accidents playing lacrosse.

“Scott was always the athletic one, even with his asthma,” he told her. “He because co-captain in sophomore year. Then the other captain moved to London - not that he was missed, he was a total dick - and Scott reigned under graduation. I remember summer the summer before he became co-captain, he trained super hard for it. He blew me off so many times to practice. I kept trying to make him watch Star Wars.”

“You know he hasn’t watched Star Wars? Like at all?” Stiles was saying now. “He doesn’t even know who Darth Vader is. So many jokes have been wasted on him. I had to watch The Force Awakens alone…”

He launched into a theory about Rey’s parentage.

He had already told her all about werewolf folklore as well as human sacrifices throughout history.

Lydia had to admit, he actually was smart. Before long, he had moved on from Rey and engaged Lydia in a discussion about how gravity worked on the Death Star. And there was actual physics involved.

“You’re so freaking smart, you know?” he told her, when they sat down on a rock outcrop. Lydia couldn’t believe she actually spent energy talking about Star Wars.

She cocked her head. “I thought that was established.”

Stiles gestured a hand at her. “Yeah, but you’re like, IQ 174 and beautiful.”

He remembered the exact number. He called her beautiful. Lydia felt her cheeks heat up. The sun was only just starting to set due to the season. She wondered she was as red as the sky. She wondered if Stiles could see her blush.

“Really?” She asked, keeping her eyes on his face.

In the golden light, Stiles’ eyes were like pools of honey with a mysterious light glowing within, and they were trained on her when he answered.

“Really.”

The hand that had gestured up and down her body reached out again, and for a moment Lydia anticipated the feel of his palm against her cheek. But then he dropped his arm, drummed his fingers on the rock next to his lap instead.

Before she knew it, Lydia was covering his hand with hers, stilling his fidgety movement.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she told him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Maybe it was the way the long rays of sunlight cast on the sand. Maybe it was the connection they felt as two smart individuals drawn to each other’s intelligence. Maybe it was the way Stiles treated her. He’d held her hand and called her beautiful.

Whatever it was, Lydia suddenly felt the need to kiss him, so she leaned in. She saw Stiles mirroring her actions right before her eyes fluttered shut. His nose brushing against hers was her only warning before their lips collided.

Warm. Stiles’ mouth was so warm. His lips were soft, just like the rest of him. One of her hands had found purchase on his upper arm, his curling behind her neck carefully as his lips moved oh so slowly over hers, giving her time to adjust. In return, Lydia tilted her head and pursed her lips further, free hand moving into his hair to pull him closer to her, deepening the kiss.

They broke apart when they heard a dog barking. Not five seconds later, a man and his terrier ran past. Lydia cleared her throat. Stiles was looking at his lap, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lydia had dated before, but she had never taken to someone so fast. She always played hard to get, made the boys come after her for a week at least, teasing them, before she’d give in and let the fun begin. Yet here she was, with a boy she made out with within a day of meeting him, and she wanted more.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” she asked, heart pounding.

Stiles’s head snapped up to look at her. “I, uh, um, I don’t really know…”

Her heart faltered.

“I mean, I’d like to, if you want, but I don’t know any places since me and my friend are sharing a room, and a bed, because they ran out of rooms with two singles so…”

Lydia nearly laughed in relief.

“My friend and I are in my family’s beach house, where I have my own room,” she told him, grabbing his hand. “Come on.”

They managed to walk side by side, all the way back to the beach house that Lydia’s family owned. The moment she shut the front door, Stiles’ hands were all over her.

“A-Allison could be h-here,” Lydia stuttered as he smothered her face with kisses.

“She’s not,” Stiles replied. “You said you two haven’t unpacked, and I don’t see any extra pair of running shoes anywhere.”

His open mouth painted a hot line down her neck.

“What are you, a detective?” Lydia panted. She arched as one of Stiles’ large hands pressed into her small back, pressed her chest against his as he started sucking on her collarbone, his other hand supporting the back of her neck. He was clever, handsome, and pulling her into him. She loved it.

Stiles hummed into her skin. “Mmhmm, aspiring cop, actually.”

“Criminology,” Lydia recalled. “That is so hot.”

She felt rather than heard his chuckle, reverberating through his body.

“Not as hot as you, Miss MIT.”

She slammed her lips into his. The momentum sent both of them towards the staircase, just what she wanted.

“Take me upstairs,” she ordered.

Stiles moaned in acknowledgement.

Lydia wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She had not specifically thought about Stiles sweeping her off her feet and carrying her up the stairs, but she hadn’t really thought that they would stumble their way up together, Stiles a step ahead of her. When they approached the top, Stiles bounded to the top of the landing. He somehow managed to keep holding her hand, long arm outstretched, giving Lydia a good view of his sinewy forearms, lightly dusted with hair. He pulled her up the last few steps and laughed when she tumbled into him, sending them crashing into the wall. Lydia used her lips to shut him up.

His mouth was better at other things anyway.

By the time they made it into her room, Lydia’s hands were running up and down Stiles’ arms, while Stiles’ had crept under her shirt. He tried to take it off as they fell onto the bed, but it got caught as she tried to loop her arms around his neck. This time, they both laughed.

Lydia removed the piece of clothing and gave Stiles a coy smile. “Your turn.”

It took him a while to comply, his eyes slowly taking in her body, her bare skin. His mouth was gaping like it had right before he called her a genius. But then he was pulling his shirt over his head, and Lydia found herself reacting similarly.

She’d seen model-worthy bodies before, chiseled abs and bulging muscles. Stiles looked nothing like that, but Lydia had never been so in awe. He was lean but toned, with nice broad shoulders and the slightest definition of muscle. Moles, scattered all over, stood out against his pale skin, as did the dark trail leading into his pants. It was there Lydia placed her hand, spreading her fingers out against his skin, and smiled when she heard Stiles’ intake of breath.

She slowly slid her hand up, up, over his stomach and chest, until finally she found her way behind his neck to pull him to her. When their lips met this time it was slower, sweeter. They kissed as if they had all the time in the world to explore each other’s mouths. Lydia untucked her legs from underneath her and leaned back. Stiles caught on and braced one arm against the bed, the other wrapping around her slim waist.

Lydia sighed as her back softly settled onto the mattress. Stiles moved away from her lips and started kissing a trail down her body. Lydia’s back arched as he went. She felt his lips linger right above the waistband of her skirt, felt his hands start to caress her thighs just above the knee. She sighed in anticipation, eyelids fluttering shut. But then she didn’t sense any more movement from Stiles.

Pushing herself up, Lydia found his eyes on her, watching, waiting.

“Can I - ”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t even said - ”

“Yes, Stiles, you can take my panties off. Preferably now.��

He smiled softly and muttered, “Just making sure.” Then his hands found the side of her hips and started pulling her skirt and panties down together.

She saw his head duck between her legs, and then his lips were on her core. Lydia’s head fell back, and she let out a long, breathy moan as Stiles’ tongue worked its wonders.

Her ragged breaths filled the room as she held Stiles’ head to her, her fingers tangling with the tips of his short but soft hair. It was both a way of anchoring herself and telling him don’t stop, keep going, don’t -

Her pleasure rolled over her like the tides on the beach outside. When it subsided, Lydia blinker her eyes open to find Stiles hovering over her, silently asking for her evaluation. She answered by sitting up and kissing him.

She kept Stiles busy with her lips while she undid his fly and shoved his pants down to his knees. He only caught on when she started pulling at his boxers as well, and adjusted his position so that she could push them down all the way, using her feet to finish the job.

When he was properly naked, Stiles snagged her around the waist and rolled over so that she was on top of him. Lydia stilled, her hand finding purchase on the sheets right above his shoulders. No one had conceded to her like that before. No one had so willingly given her control, ever.

“You okay?” Stiles asked. He must have taken her stillness for hesitation.

Lydia gave him her most convincing smile.

“Yeah. Yes, everything is fine, I was just trying to recall where I kept the condoms,” she told him.

She reached for the bedside drawer, but Stiles’ hand came up to stop her.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

His was looking at her so earnestly, Lydia couldn’t resist kissing him again.

“I want to,” she assured him. “If you want it too.”

He nodded and kissed her, releasing her arm. Lydia leaned over to reach the drawer again, and Stiles took the opportunity to unclip her bra. She shrugged it off as she straightened again, before waving the foil packet she’s retrieved.

Soon, she had rolled the condom onto Stiles and was lowering herself onto him. Stiles skated his hands up her thighs as she found a steady rhythm. They finally settled on her waist, just resting there, not gripping.

Even with her on top of him, Stiles was so active with his mouth. Appraisals of her beauty fell from his lips for every move she made.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled. “Oh god - you’re so beautiful. Oh my god.”

It didn’t take long before Lydia started to feel herself lose control again. Her movements became jerky. She fell forward, fingers curling around Stiles’ shoulder, head burying under his chin as she cried his name.

Stiles carefully rolled them over, pausing only to adjust himself between her legs, before finding the rhythm she had set.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “It’s okay, I got you, I got you…”

“Stiles,” Lydia moaned as she lost control, and she felt Stiles release too, whispering her name into her skin.

For a while they lay together, bodies pressed together but for Stiles breaching himself on one forearm so he wouldn’t crush Lydia. Their deep breaths were in sync.

Finally, Lydia loosened her grip on Stiles’ torso, letting him slip out to get towels. When they’d cleaned themselves up, Lydia tossed both towels into a corner and pat the bed next to her. She tugged on the covers when he crawled in, silently asking him to stay. Stiles didn’t comment as she pulled the covers over their bare bodies, but obliged and grabbed a pillow. Lydia instinctively rolled onto her side as Stiles shifted closer to her. She leaned back against his chest. One of his arms found her waist again.

She twisted her neck to look at him. “I didn’t give you one back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?”

He pecked the corner of her lips. “You can do it tomorrow, if you still want to.”

“I will,” she said firmly. Then she couldn’t help but yawn.

Stiles chuckled softly and nuzzled the back of her neck, causing her to relax and turn back.

“Goodnight, Lydia.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

She woke up to the feeling of lips on her neck.

Stiles mumbled in his sleep, lips puckering and unknowingly leaving wet kisses on her skin. Lydia smiled when he hummed softly and tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and pressing his face to her shoulder. One leg curled further up into his body, knee pressing into the back of hers, pushing her leg up with his, tangling their limbs further.

Lydia found herself leaning back into his embrace. Stiles’ body radiated heat. A good kind, warm and comforting, not the sweltering kind that bared down on the beach outside. His hold was firm but gentle. No one had cuddled with her like that before. It was nice.

She was just slipping into sleep again when a strange rock song started blaring throughout the room. Stiles jerked in the bed. He fumbled to retract his limbs from around her body as he sat up, and Lydia mourned the loss of skin contact.

Stiles’ arms flailed as he pushed himself up and over his haunches until he was crawling to the edge of the bed, leaning over to reach their clothes. The position gave Lydia a fine view of his ass. She couldn’t help sitting up to get a better look. However, Stiles soon pulled himself back up, pants in hand. He shook his ringing phone out of the pockets and swore when he saw the screen.

“Shit,” he mumbled, swiping his thumb across. “Hey Scotty, yes, I know, I’m - I just - I’ll be right there, okay?”

He’d retrieved his boxers and started pulling them on one-handedly, struggling to get his long legs in the right places without kicking her. He dropped his phone when the call ended and pulled on his pants with greater ease.

He turned to her while his deft fingers worked at the fly, eyes wide and wild for someone who had just woken up.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “This looks really bad, but my friends and I are doing a west coast trip, and our train - I forgot - and, uh - ”

He trailed off, head whipping around. He spotted something on her side of the bed and literally launched himself over her before tumbling to the floor.

Lydia held the covers up to her chest as she scooted to the side of the bed, peering at Stiles as he pulled his T-shirt out from where he had landed on it. He looked up, as if sensing her eyes on him, and reached up to squeeze her covered knee.

“I like you. A lot,” he told her, his voice suddenly soft. He quickly pulled his last piece of clothing over his head and stumbled to his feet, reaching over her legs for his phone. The object had been buzzing with incoming messages since he discarded it at the foot of the bed.

“I wish I could stay. But my best friend will murder me if I don’t - oh fuck,” Stiles rambled as he checked his phone again. He waved his arms exasperatedly, as if the action would somehow calm his frantic state. Then his head turned back to Lydia again, meeting her confused gaze.

He leaned over and cupped her face with one large hand.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he whispered, his lips hovering a bare two inches away from hers.

He gently connected his forehead with hers. Their noses brushed, and Lydia gasped in anticipation of one last kiss from his soft, soft lips.

But he pulled away, straightened, checked the small bedside clock, and then he was fumbling his way to the door again.

He paused in the doorway, turned around and shot her an apologetic look.

“Call me!” he yelled.

And then he was gone.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

She never called. He didn’t leave his number.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The rest of summer came and went. Lydia spent her days flipping through her MIT course catalog, tagging all the interesting classes with colourful post-it flags. She completed two online courses, and by the time she flew to Massachusetts, was already a third of her way through junior year.

Stiles’ face would flash behind her closed eyes at night. His warm eyes, his messy hair, his soft smile. Sometimes she would wake up with the ghost of his touches brushing her skin. Whenever that happened, Lydia would clam down on her thoughts with logic. Realistically speaking, she would never meet Stiles again.

(Shame, he made her feel good. Really good.)

It happened a month into the semester. It was a Wednesday morning, the time Lydia paid the campus gym its weekly visit. She was warming up on the elliptical and her gaze was drifting across the room when she saw the television screen airing the Ellen show. Sitting on the couch opposite the host, was Stiles.

Curious, Lydia stopped the music on her phone and connected her earphones to the elliptical’s audio port instead. Stiles’ voice filled her ears the moment she’d adjusted for the correct channel, bright and jovial.

Stiles was dressed in a royal blue three-quarter sleeved crewneck that hugged his torso and arms in all the right places. His pants were tan, like the khakis he’d worn at the beach. His hair was neatly tucked under a blue and orange baseball cap that matched his shirt nicely.

He looked as good as she remembered, all twinkling eyes and animated hands.

And he was talking about their tryst on national television.

“She kept saying my name,” he said. “And I was saying hers. It just felt…amazing, like, I don’t know how to describe it without saying too much.”

Ellen Degeneres chuckled. “So the short version is that you had one hell of a night.”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles answered, nodding vigorously. “Best night of my life. Except for the part where I had to catch a train in the morning and forgot to leave my number.”

“What’s her name?” the host prompted.

“I’m not sure I should say,” Stiles replied, and Lydia exhaled in relief. If he was going to make a fool of himself sharing their hookup on TV, at least he wasn’t dragging her down with him.

And yet, aghast as she was, Lydia could not help admiring him.

His shirt was just the right shade of blue that you could see the shadows defining his biceps when the light hit it right - such as when he went to rub his neck. Whenever they switched to a close-up camera angle, she could see the golden flecks in his irises, watch his long lashes flutter as he blinked incessantly, count the moles on his face.

His hair was curling at the back of his neck. Lydia remembered how it felt between her fingers during their first kiss. At one point he took his cap off, and if she noticed that it had grown longer, well, he was the one drawing attention to his hair by running a hand through it. She imagined his mane free from the confines of the offending headwear, a nest of unruly curls.

She was panting now, and it was not because she had been on the elliptical for fifteen minutes.

“But it’s not just the sex, you know?” Stiles was saying. “She was beautiful, great to talk to, and really smart…I just felt like we had this kind of connection, you know? Unspoken, of course.”

The audience ooohed. Stiles ducked his head, clearly not expecting such a reaction.

Ellen leaned over and placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Alright, I want you to look at the camera there,” she told him, pointing with her other hand. “Imagine that girl is somewhere out there, watching. What do you want to say to her?”

Stiles looked straight into the camera, and Lydia felt as if he was addressing her directly through the screen.

“Hey, um, you know who you are. Assuming you remember me, that is,” Stiles started.

“I hope you remember me. I’d really like to meet you again. So, uh, if you don’t already think I’m pathetic for resorting to going to live TV, you can find me by uh…”

He trailed off and turned to the host.

“I gotcha,” Ellen told him, then she turned back to the camera. “If you are the one that Stiles is looking for, go to Ellen-dot-com-slash-You’re-the-One to tell us your name, school, and…”

“The last thing I said to you,” Stiles finished.

Lydia spent the rest of her day pondering whether or not to reach out to Stiles. Allison egged her on to. Lydia thought it was ridiculous. The link was probably already flooded with false submissions.

She kept putting her decision off to the next day, and eventually the link was closed altogether.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was a Saturday night when she got the call.

“I found your soulmate.”

Lydia did a double take. With midterms around the corner and a research project lined-up, she had not given much thought to Stiles and his little TV stunt. Allison’s words had caught her off guard.

“He’s not my soulmate.”

“Unspoken connection.”

“If I didn’t actually enjoy talking to him, that would sound totally creepy.”

“But you do like talking to him.”

Lydia could practically hear Allison grinning over the phone. She refrained from actually rolling her eyes. Allison would picture her doing it anyway.

“Come on, Lydia,” Allison whined. “Don’t you wanna know how I found your Summer Nights Danny Zuko?”

Lydia cringed at the thought of her and Stiles with those 70’s hairdos. Allison launched into her story anyway, recounting excitedly how she almost ran over a dog, and panicked until some guy named Scott directed her to the nearest animal clinic.

“…and when he smiled, oh my gosh, Lydia, he had the cutest dimples.”

“I thought this was about my ‘soulmate’.”

“It is,” Allison insisted, making a shh-ing noise. “Just listen. So, I went for lunch with him and asked each other the standard stuff, you know, what’s your planned major - he wants to go to medical school and become a vet, isn’t that cute?”

“Allison.”

“Right, so we were telling each other about ourselves, and when I told him I last lived in San Francisco, he told me about how he passed through in summer, and one of his friends hooked up with a girl and is now so determined to find her again that he went on Ellen for it.”

“So technically, you didn’t find Stiles himself,” Lydia deadpanned.

Allison hummed non-committedly. “Are you disappointed? I did find out a lot about him. He’s a California native - grew up in Beacon Hills, drives an old blue jeep, and right now, is studying in LA.”

“And that information is important because…?”

“You can track him down!” Allison basically yelled.

Lydia scoffed. “He’s the one who wants to be in law enforcement, he can track me down. Although I’m seriously questioning his common sense, since he decided that going on a talk show is a legitimate way to find someone.”

Despite Lydia’s repeated dismissals, Allison continued to bring Stiles in conversations. Especially after Allison and Scott started dating. Lydia was very happy for her best friend, but she wished she didn’t always have to hear about the total dumbass that was her summer fling.

As the semester drews to a close, Scott invited Allison to visit his home during winter break. Allison, naturally, wanted Lydia to come along. It was the perfect opportunity to meet Stiles again.

“Come on,” the girl begged one night when they were face-timing. “Stiles sounds really into you. Scott said he insists that your hair is strawberry blonde and gets offended when their friends call you a redhead.”

Lydia opened her mouth to retort. “But I am - ”

She stopped short. Stiles, as much as she loathed to admit, was right. Her hair was not a deep nor bright shade of red. Rather, it was a mix of gold and reddish hues, depending on how the light hit it.

Strawberry blonde.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

Allison smirked, and Lydia briefly considered slapping her laptop shut. Then her friend’s lips turned into a pout.

“Please, Lydia, for me? I don’t want to be there alone. What if it gets awkward?”

Lydia took one look at Allison’s expression and prayed for Scott’s resistivity.

“Fine,” she sighed. “When do our breaks overlap? We’ll need to know Scott’s too…”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The semester was over in the blink of an eye. Allison and Lydia spent Christmas back in San Francisco. Since Allison’s mother and aunt passed and Lydia’s father left for good, the two families had Christmas dinner together. It was a small, easy-going affair, and the girls would have a sleepover after. This year, the Argents hosted the event, so Lydia slept at Allison’s. The next day, Allison drove them to Beacon Hills.

It was almost dinnertime when they pulled up in front of Scott’s house. Scott himself was waiting on the porch, making his way down the steps before Allison killed the engine. He offered to help with their luggages, and Lydia could see the heart eyes Allison was making at him, so she announced that she would bring the food and gifts they’d brought in.

Scott ran back to open the door for her. “The kitchen’s just straight through the living room. You can see the entryway. My friends are in there, they can show you where to put everything.”

Lydia nodded, giving Scott her sweetest smile before making her way into the house.

My friends are in there, Scott had said. Stiles was in there, just one room away from her.

She heard him before she saw him, making an animated case for the Loch Ness monster’s existence. Stepping into the kitchen, her eyes immediately spotted him in the far corner, leaning against the counter. He had a Coke can in one hand, the other waving around as he rambled to the guy standing with him.

He started speaking more intensely, his voice lowered, his gestures more precise. He turned to put his rink on the counter and when he turned back, that was when it happened.

Lydia could pinpoint the exact moment he saw her. First his eyes met hers, and eve across the room, she could see how bright and gold they were. His mouth dropped open, and Lydia watched, almost in slow motion, as he blinked once, twice, three times in disbelief. Then the corners of his mouth pulled up into a wide smile.

“Lydia.”

God, she missed hearing his voice say her name as much as she missed watching his lips form it.

The back of her mind was screaming for her to say something as she took a step towards him, but Stiles, being Stiles, beat her to it.

“I - wow - what are you doing here? I mean, not in a bad way - I just didn’t expect it. You’re here,” he said, in a single breath.

“I’m here,” Lydia breathed. Then, because she felt the need to explain. “I came with Allison.”

There he was, blinking again, rapidly. Did he have to do that? His long eyelashes looked absolutely luscious.

“So you’re Lydia!” a new voice butted in. “Stiles mentions you a lot.”

She’d been so enraptured by Stiles that she hadn’t noticed his companion coming to stand next to him.

“You don’t talk,” Stiles muttered, half-heartedly shoving the other boy aside.

The boy had gave them and impish grin and walked out of the kitchen laughing.

“Don’t mind Liam,” Stiles said. “He is always annoying. So, uh, how are you doing?”

Lydia responded by smacking his chest.

“You!” she exclaimed, as Stiles flailed backwards, giving him no time to react. She jabbed a finger at him, revelling in his shocked expression. “You are the most ridiculous, insane, annoying person I have ever encountered!”

Stiles stuttered. “Lydia - what - Lydia?!” But Lydia pressed on.

“Why the hell did you tell everyone?” she continued. “So we slept together and it was great. But then you announced it on national television!”

“I was just desperate to find you!” Stiles explained. His hands were held at shoulder height, in surrender. “I admit, it wasn’t my best idea…”

“You told everyone! It was supposed to be private! We had something, now everyone knows and it’s just - just - ”

“We had something?” His voice was a low whisper.

Lydia backtracked mentally. Did I say that?

She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and she ended up simply staring at Stiles, folding her lips.

She was saved by Scott, who entered with an older couple. Allison was trailing behind them, and the brunette raised her brows when she saw Lydia standing there with Stiles.

“Hi Lydia!” Scott called brightly, oblivious to what he had walked into. “This is my mom. Mom, this is Lydia, Allison’s friend.”

“Please call me Melissa,” Scott’s mother said as Lydia shook her hand.

Scott brought the older man forward. “And this is Sheriff - well - ah…”

“Noah Stilinski,” the man introduced himself. Lydia choked on her greeting. Stilinski? As in -

“I see you’ve met my son,” Noah said, waving at Stiles. Lydia looked over her shoulder to see Stiles wave back and shoot his father a wink. “I hope he hasn’t said anything too weird to you.”

“Oh!” Scott exclaimed, a shit-eating grin forming on his face. “Did Allison tell you about the Ellen thing?”

She heard Stiles groan, and Lydia decided to make him explain himself.

“Hmm, yeah I think she mentioned it,” she said, turning to face Stiles with arms crossed and challenging eyebrow raised. “I wanna know what that was about.”

Stiles’ red face was worth it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk?”

Lydia studied the boy before her. He was leaning against the kitchen island, fingers fiddling in his lap. The sight had greeted her when she stepped out of the bathroom.

She glanced at the entryway, where she could see Allison and Melissa laughing, presumably at Scott and the Sheriff, who were on the other side of the coffee table, out of view.

She turned back to Stiles.

“Did you wait here for me?”

“Yeah,” he answered immediately.

His eyes were big and sincere. He had really waited just for the chance to talk to her.

“Okay,” Lydia decided.

“Okay?”

“We can go for a walk,” she clarified.

“Oh, right,” Stiles said. “Or I mean, like, we could just stand outside, because it’s late, and dark, and - ”

He caught her raised eyebrows.

“Right,” he repeated. Then he held his hand out for her to take.

So here they were, standing just outside the McCall’s backdoor.

“I didn’t want to give that many details,” Stiles started as soon as the door shut. “The producers made me because it would gain more attention.”

“What made you think going on national TV was a good idea in the first place?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, which, as usual, inadvertently showed off his arm, even in the red hoodie he was wearing. Lydia swallowed and tried not to be distracted.

“Yeah, not my best of plans,” he admitted sheepishly. “You don’t even look like you watch talk shows, now that I think about it.”

“I don’t, it was playing in the gym,” Lydia told him. “So, did anyone respond to the link?”

Stiles chuckled. “Yeah, there were a couple of people who asked me out. Most of it was just my classmates making fun the whole thing, though.”

He paused, then, “Just out of curiosity, do you remember the last thing I said to you?”

I like you. A lot. I wish I could stay. I’m really sorry about this.

She could hear his words in her head, clear as day.

“You said you were sorry,” she answered. “And you asked me to call you.”

“Would you have?” he asked. “If I had actually given you my number. Would you have called me?”

His was fiddling with his fingers again, eyes darting between his shoes and her face.

Would she have? Moving on after that night had been easy because calling had not been a legitimate option, but what if it had been?

Lydia thought about how she had put off the link until it had closed.

She settled on an answer.

“I don’t know,” she began. “But, if you give it to me now, I will call you tomorrow.”

Stiles blinked at her, mouth hanging open. Then he fixed his face in a smile and pulled his phone out. Lydia did the same.

“Actually,” he started, once their numbers had been entered into each other’s phones. “Do you want to go on a date tomorrow? With me?”

Lydia didn’t have to think. She knew Allison wanted to spend time with Scott anyway.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles slept in (Lydia shouldn’t have been surprised), so they met up after lunch, with Stiles picking her up from Scott’s in his jeep, which was indeed blue and very old. He drove her around for a “pre-date”, as he called it, pointing out different places in town.

When they finally pulled into the carpark behind an ice-skating rink, Lydia decided Stiles must have consulted Allison.

“I talked to Allison,” Stiles said, confirming her thoughts. “And she told me you used to skate but had to stop when your local skating rink shut down, so I thought, we could come here and you can show me all the skills you remember.”

Prepare to have your mind blown, Lydia thought. I remember a lot.

A signboard outside the rink said it was closed for the day. When Lydia rapped her fingers against the posterboard, Stiles simply shot her a wicked grin.

“I might have pulled a few strings.”

They sat side-by-side on a bench, lacing up their skates. Stiles offered her a bright orange jacket when she commented on the cold temperature, but Lydia turned it down.

“I’m wearing blue,” she said, primly. “Orange and blue? Not a good combination.”

“But it’s the colors of the Mets!” Stiles insisted.

Lydia recalled the baseball cap he had worn on TV. Now that she thought about it, the underside of the bill had been the same bright orange as his jacket.

She guessed Star Wars was not the only thing Stiles was passionate about.

Lydia shook her head and stood. “Are we skating or what?”

They did a few warm-up laps around the rink together. Stiles flailed a lot at the beginning, but surprisingly stayed on his feet throughout. By the third lap, he was perfectly balanced.

Lydia pulled ahead of him as they began the fifth round and whizzed past Stiles twice before she decided it was time to try some of her old tricks. She skated into the middle of the rink and wide arcs. Then she made her circles smaller and smaller until finally she was doing spins.

She had to admit, she missed this. She missed the feeling of gliding across the ice, arms outstretched like a dancer. She missed the way the cold air would whip around her face. She missed the stretch in her muscles as she performed various tricks.

She giggled happily as she completed a fast set of pirouettes, exiting the spin perfectly. When she looked up, she spotted Stiles standing across the rink, jaw dropped.

She skated up to him and took his hand. Stiles continued gaping at her, awe written all over his face. Lydia’s smile grew wider.

“Well?” she said, when he continued gaping at her. “Come on.”

She moved to skate a few more laps, pulling Stiles after her.

It must have been hours before they headed back into the bleachers and removed their skates. Stiles offered her a two-pack of Reese cups when they clambered back into the jeep. Lydia was going back to Scott’s for dinner with him and Allison, while Stiles was bringing his father dinner at work.

He walked her to the porch when they arrived at Scott’s. Lydia noticed he had been looking at the ground as they made their way up, and figured he was nervous again.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

Stiles lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“This is my last night back before I leave,” he explained sadly. “I have an attachment at LAPD for winter intersession.”

“Oh,” Lydia said. But also - “That’s great though, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m leaving again,” he confessed.

There was a fuzzy feeling in her chest. Perhaps it was her heart melting.

Lydia took his head in her hands.

“Stiles,” she assured him. “I like you. A lot. You’re funny, and sweet, and pretty smart.”

Stiles laughed through his nose. “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you, Miss Future Fields Medal.”

Lydia shook her head, flustered by the casual compliment. “What I mean is, we’re both smart, so I think, between us, we can figure something out.”

Stiles’ face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?”

Lydia nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “As long as you don’t do anything ridiculous like going on TV.”

Stiles stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “I am never living that down, am I?”

Lydia was full on grinning now. Her grin grew wider and wider as Stiles playfully asked her to “stop, Stop it! Stop looking at me like that!” until it was almost splitting her face.

“Also,” Lydia added. “Allison’s spring term starts earlier than mine, so, if you wanted, I could go to LA for a while…”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

Lydia took his hands in hers. “I still owe you one, remember?”

Stiles adjusted his hands, tangling their fingers together. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Lydia began to answer, of course, but then the buzzing of a phone distracted them.

Stiles pulled one of his hands away to retrieve the offending device from his back pocket.

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” he muttered, and shot Lydia an apologetic glance before bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hey dad! Yes, I know. I’m on my way. No, the jeep did not break down once today. Yes, I’m still with - no! Dad, no, oh my god - well, that was…yeah, I don’t really have anything to say about that…”

He looked up at Lydia as his voice trailed off, and Lydia had a feeling the sheriff had figured out she was ‘the one’.

“…mhm, yes, yes, and yes, you know it’s for your own good. I’ll see you soon, dad. Love you.”

Stiles ended the call with his father and turned back to Lydia.

“I should go,” he sighed. Lydia only nodded in understanding.

“Scott’s coming to send me off tomorrow,” Stiles continued. “You could come along - if you and Allison don’t have any plans. I mean, I can’t guarantee you’ll get to spend a lot of time with me because Scott and I will be hugging each other a lot, so…”

Lydia chuckled. She had seen the previous night how Scott and Stiles could not keep their hands off each other when they talked. They were always patting each other on the shoulder or the back. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine the two locked in an endless bear hug.

“I’ll be there,” she told him, reaching for his hand again. Stiles obliged.

He squeezed her hand once. “Well, goodnight, Lydia.”

He had taken two steps towards his jeep when he suddenly spun around. Lydia just managed to catch the mischievous glint in his eye before Stiles had lunged forward and planted a quick kiss at the corner of her lips, a soft mwah! escaping from his.

He was grinning when he pulled back.

“Goodnight!” he repeated as he backed away from the porch.

Lydia was too stunned to answer. She let out a little gasp of breath. Her fingers came to rest lightly on her lips.

When she came to her senses, Stiles was climbing into his jeep.

He waved when he saw that she was still looking at him, then made a phone sign with his hand, bringing it to his ear.

He winked. Call me.

This time, she knew she would.

#stydia #Stilinskikissme #stydiaedit #stydia fanfiction #stydia secret santa #fic #fics #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #gifts #presents 2017

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afangirlfantasy · 7 years

Note

hii! i wanted to ask you for a fic rec in which harry is in like a bad situation? maybe he's abused somehow and louis saves/helps him? something like birds in gilded cages? sort of a harry's louis baby kind of fic, thank youu (and ignore me if this is a request you don't like)

(I don’t know why this is showing up on my main blog, sorry!) Also, I literally just read Birds in Gilded Cages last week! LOVE LOVE LOVE! Reminded me of Club Mad, which has sadly been deleted, but would be perfect on this list that you want! I think I have a good understanding of what you’re looking for, so hopefully you find something you like! And I don’t mind doing doing ANY kind of Fic Rec, honestly! I really enjoy making these!

Hurt/Comfort Harry Fic Recs

we’ll play hide and seek to turn this around (give me love… by Wankerville

Words: 19k

“So here’s the thing,” he starts. “I didn’t mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn’t like it because their opinions shouldn’t matter, you know?” Louis takes a breath, finally glancing over to see the boy wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. On a whim, he adds, “And like, I noticed you scraping it off and you haven’t been wearing any and I think you should because that’s what you like.”or an au where harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and louis’ just trying to figure out whats wrong with him

Part 1 of strawberry milk fic

Pretty Boy by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 32k

Harry’s been forced into a high-class prostitution ring because his heroin-addicted mother is too strung out to realize that her boyfriend is pimping out her son. Louis is the crown prince of England and gets into a lot of mischief and thinks it’s normal to pay prostitutes to “get a good night’s sleep.” They probably aren’t meant to see each other beyond that one random night, but then again, they probably aren’t meant to see each other at all.

Give Me A Minute by Prncelouie

Words: 32k

OR the one where Harry discovers his husband cheating on him and his new neighbor Louis might just be the one to help pull him back from the edge.

The King and I by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 43k

Louis -better known as The Rogue- is the legendary King of the Thieves of London, the underground network of criminals who run the city. Zayn is his second in command, Niall is an Irish fugitive with ultra high-tech hacking skills, and Liam is a dirty cop who lets Rogue and his crew get away with just about anything. Harry is Britain’s absolute worst criminal and a professional scapegoat who flees Cheshire in search of good treatment, and just might find it under the wing of London’s regal mastermind.

Escape by AngKeats

Words: 47k

“Buddy…you really don’t have to go,” Louis added, making him falter in his step.

Harry took short, frightened breaths into his lungs and turned.

Louis. That was a typical cowboy name. A good strong, male name. A good strong male who could be harmful. A good strong male who could over-power him and hurt him. Something in his kind blue eyes told him he wouldn’t, though. It was strange, being able to read him like that, but it was true. He didn’t want to hurt him. He wanted to help.

The intruder reached for his sleep bag and he clutched it to his chest protectively. His eyes flicked over Louis’ face but he didn’t move to touch him. Louis’ horse- Hunter- gently butted his arm with his nose.

“Hunter seems to have taken a shine to you,” Louis continued as though he hadn’t just chased him halfway down his drive and was still without a name for him. “Why don’t you come up for breakfast?” He invited.

i love you more by shoulderbone (lavenderforluck)

Words: 47k

Boys like Harry can’t fall in love. But then he meets Louis. A love story in two parts.

No One Does It Better by nodibs

Words: 49k

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Even Angels Have Their Demons by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 50k

Louis is appointed the role of Guardian Angel, and his first mission is a boy named Zayn Malik. Unfortunately, it seems that a certain Demon has gotten to him first.

Or… an Angel/Demon AU where Angel Louis hates Demon Harry, but somewhere along the way that stops being so true.

Green Doe Eyes by AngKeats

Words: 51k

“Can I fix you?” Louis asked as Harry looked over at him, eyes wet and red, tip of his nose pink and cute. He licked his plush lips and nodded.

Louis let out a thankful sigh and reached for Harry’s hand, ignoring the way Harry flinched when they touched.

He stripped off the useless bandage and winced at the re-opened wounds. He noticed the blood under Harry’s fingernails and realised he’d scratched at them until they bled.

“Harry…” He whispered, tears coming to his own eyes as he felt Harry tremble under his touch, eyes averted shamefully as he swallowed his tears away determinedly. “No, don’t be scared, it’s okay,” Louis assured. “I’m not going to judge you…I just need to protect you,” he explained.

Hideaway. by arrowtomyheart

Words: 52k

Harry is in a borderline abusive relationship which ends after the news that Harry’s pregnant. He is homeless for the night and travels 3 hours on the train to turn up at his best friend’s Liam’s house unexpectedly for somewhere to stay. He meets Louis, Liam’s flatmate, and they discover that they have more in common that anyone would expect. They fall in love.

American Rose by justgotowisharder

Words: 53k

“Your voice sounds rosewood when you’re lying.”“I didn’t lie, Harry.”“You’re lying right now.”Louis rolls his eyes, sighing. “Honestly, fuck your synesthesia.”

(The story where Harry hears in colors and Louis’ voice is multicolored. Harry hates his disorder, Louis hates to be gay. Little they know, they’re meant to be)

You are a lovely adjective, no word ever enough byangelichl

Words: 56k

The hurt/comfort AU in which Harry leaves away an abusive relationship, and Louis offers to share his flat.

Since I’ve Found You by Rearviewdreamer

Words: 74k

Louis woke up on the morning he was meant to volunteer at the Feed the Homeless program at St. Mary’s church hoping for an opportunity to give back a little to a city that has given him everything he could ever want. Little did he know, there was one more great thing waiting there for him; a boy with radiant green eyes in a weathered jacket and a beat-up backpack slung over his shoulders.

Only You by mystic_believexx

Words: 78k

A strict school, a forbidden love and a burning hatred that turns to passion so hot Louis’ in very real danger of getting burnt…

After pulling one prank too many on their high school’s Principal, Louis and Liam get transferred to Stanford Institution, a boarding school with a reputation for handling rebellious teens. Louis’ determined to buckle down and follow the rules so he can come back home as soon as possible but unfortunately for him, his roommate-one Harry Styles- has other plans.

Sometimes things have a funny way of working out…

For Angels To Fly by @ithinkhesalwayswonderful

Words: 80k

Louis isn’t in love with a guy and Harry doesn’t need saving. Neither of these things end up being entirely true.

Saving You by AngKeats

Words: 90k

Harry Styles works in a seedy strip club in Las Vegas and uses the big ‘C’ to get through his mediocre existence. Once he’s done dancing he goes home with whoever bids the highest and the lifestyle leaves him feeling empty and alone.

Louis Tomlinson is a successful businessman but hasn’t had the best time with friends and love so he’s become a lonely recluse who puts business before pleasure…until he hears about a guy who looks like a girl and visits a little strip club in the city.

Harry is being bought by Louis not for the night but for good and his testing ways push Louis to the limit…

Fate Don’t Know You by sincewewereeighteen

Words: 98k

[Or: The one in which Louis always hears thunder when Harry speaks and sees lightning when he glances at him.]

Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou

Words: 110k

Louis is a psychology student with a tattoo count as high as his genius IQ. Harry is in a (sort-of) relationship with a homophobic man and hates himself a little more every day. Things fall apart and Louis puts him back together.

Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

But Please, Don’t Bite by shyserious

Words: 122k

“Melodic little jingle sounded from a bell hanging over the doorframe and warm indoor air curled heavily around his shivering body for the first time in months. Harry suddenly felt a sting in the corners of his eyes and had to force down a broken sob. Fuck, he was a mess. Such a mess. He had to focus.”

Undone, Undress by angelichl

Words: 134k

Louis’ new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He’s an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers.

Obviously something is wrong. Louis just doesn’t know what it is.

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12

Words: 208k

Harry’s new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

♡ updated 3.17.20

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meltingalphabet · 7 years

Text

Killing Kyle

You know you’re an impressive person, when other people try really hard to impress you.

I was not an impressive child. I was actually pretty unimpressive. To give you an idea of how thoroughly unimpressive I was, many east-coast school systems believed I was irreparably mentally handicapped. They realized I had a high IQ, specifically high 130s, low 140s. Not quite genius, but close. The fact that I couldn’t talk till middle school was surprising. I spent most of my childhood with specialists, who tried desperately to figure out why such an intelligent child was performing at such a low level. Finally, they gave up. I was deemed unfixable.

As I grew older, I began to ignore the experts and try to reconcile these two sides of me myself: the dumb, obvious half, and the intelligent unspoken half. In high school, I defied all expectations by flourishing. I spent valuable summers studying in college classes in order to advance to the next level of mathematics, science, literature, and history. I graduated with a high GPA, and got into an ivy league university with an entire semester of college credits already under my belt. I spent my college years taking two more classes each semester than required, and graduated on time with two degrees instead of just one. I got a high-paying job in the city immediately after school.

I was born with a need to compensate for myself. I learned fast how to overcompensate. And thirty years later, I am very, very good at it.

Yet, I still have to pay several hundred dollars a week for therapy, psychotherapy, and drugs. Just because I look successful, doesn’t mean I am.

“It’s Elizabeth.” I say to the intercom. I hear a buzzer from inside the front entrance sound, and I push the door open. The Brooklyn brownstone, now converted into an apartment building, is narrow, so as I enter I must be careful to sidestep the pile of packages waiting for the upper middle-class, one child, two parents city families to arrive home from karate and clarinet lessons.

Rachel, my therapist, likes to talk about my parents a lot. About being exposed to sexuality at too young an age, about being moved from city to city, state to state, about being underestimated, about being ignored. She’s very fascinated with them. To be honest, it’s a bit of an obsession. But somedays, we move away from them.

“How’s the thing with Kyle going?” She asks. I can feel my cheekbones burn as I glance at the warped caramel wood floor. His name isn’t Kyle, but I don’t tell her that. Don’t get me wrong, I love my therapist. But I’m not confident she’d be ok with the knowledge that Kyle is a pseudonym for one of her other patients. I’m worried if I ever told her, she’d disown me as a client. And I don’t think I could handle that.

Clients aren’t supposed to be connected outside of therapy, right? You and your therapist are supposed to be a bubble, completely removed from the outside world, unaffected by anything that doesn't exist within that one hour every week?

Like most over-achievers and alcoholics, I’m a little insane.

I shrug at Rachel. The Kyle things ok, I say. It’s underwraps.

I had sex with Kyle. I’m not going to lie, it was pretty great. Amazing, really. I don’t know if he’d agree. I’m not convinced he’s not a total slut. He broke it off though. He thought it’d get too complicated. Him being my boss and all.

Whatever. He’s a fucking basic bitch. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with him. He’s so… unimpressive. So typical. Yet, I can’t go to sleep without thinking about him. Scott texts me and I hope it’s him. Jared calls and my heart flutters with the idea that it’s Kyle. It’s never Kyle though. He has better things to do than to care about me.

But I know that’s selling him short. One drunken night, I opened up myself to him and he encouraged me to seek help, even giving me his therapist’s number.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to help you find someone you could talk to.”

I’m sure he didn't expect me to see her. I’m not really sure why I did. I often shrug it off as that quiet, highly intelligent but crazy part of me.

I’ve been seeing her for months. I love her. I want to stop loving Kyle. But….

We had a meeting the other week. Me, Kyle, and Jacelyn. Jacelyn. That fucking fat thighed cunt. I watched, bile rising to my throat, as she hugged him like an old friend. As she rested her hand on his arm, explaining the specifics of statistical averages or some bullshit I don’t really care about. He doesn’t hug me. He doesn’t text me. He doesn’t care if I show up or not. I could die in the streets and he wouldn’t notice.

“Elizabeth who?” He’d ask, before brushing his brown hair out of his eyes and taking a sip of coffee.

I could be stabbed by a homeless man, raped by a drunk frat boy, butchered by a deranged psychokiller, and Kyle would shrug before showing up late to my funeral, some size 0 floozy on his arm.

Maybe that’s why I’m obsessed with him? Because he cares so little for me. I’ve been dumped before. A lot, really. I’m not the type of person to do the dumping. I am the type to emotionally manipulate someone else into dumping me. Rachel and I are working on that.

Fucking Jacelyn. The flighty bitch. I don’t even really hate her. I just hate him that much. Yet, I know if he called me, asked me to leave some important event to wait hopelessly at a bar just to be stood up, like I knew I would be, I’d drop everything.

I feel powerless. I feel fucking pissed. After our meeting ended, as I drowned myself in cheap beer and tequila and cigarettes, I fantasized about killing him, about crushing his throat with the weight of my pain, frustration, and hatred. I know I couldn’t though. I know I’d stop. I love him too much.

Luckily, sometimes, the universe provides for us. Last month, it provided something hours with Rachel could never provide: visceral satisfaction.

I live in Manhattan. I’m not bragging, it’s just a fact. Something going to a high end school afforded me, while leaving my bank account in the negative for the rest of my life. I was taking the 6 train home, as I do every night. It was late.

The train was filled, but not crowded. I had the privilege, as a lone white woman, of sitting in a row of seats by myself. Or it could have been that I was in the back corner, a place reserved for the handicap or half passed out drunk college kids at 2am.

A group of young men occupied the row beside me and in front of me, whooping and hollering like a gaggle of monkeys, dangling from the ceiling rails as they pursed their lips outward, echoing each other’s cries of misogyny and ego.

My eyes glanced over at a businessman, sitting half hidden behind the group. His face taut with concentration as he stared at his phone. I snorted silently to myself as I saw the reflection of his screen in the window behind him: he was playing Candy Crush.

Rolling my eyes, I looked to the other side of the car. My gaze fell on a young woman, probably in her early twenties. Her sleeveless blouse was loose, gently hugging the curves of her chest before billowing out around her slim waist. I lingered on her toned arms, tanned from the summer sun. I thought of my eyes as Kyle's, admiring her femininity with lust.

I looked down at the novel my friend recommended, that had been sitting, neglected, in my purse for the past few months. It was a classic, and the character discussed her prospects of marriage too much for my tastes.

I glazed over the words, my mind lingering unwillingly on Kyle’s scent. He smelled warm and clean, like laundry detergent, yet no one else I knew was followed that much by the scent of clean clothes. He couldn’t be the only one to use that detergent. How does he smell so strongly? It’s like an aerial glue, that pulls at me in every conference, or when he pops by my office to pick something up. It catches in my nose, like the hook on a fisherman’s line, and tugs at me, despite how unwilling I am to follow.

My legs were crossed, and I bobbed my dangling foot in the air. I’ve never been one for sitting still. I’m sure Rachel would say that’s somehow related to that time I walked in on my parents having sex. Five years after their divorce. Not that it was the first time I’d walked in on my father having sex. Just the first time it was with my mother. I remember being nine and seeing his girlfriend’s bare breasts, her large dark nipples protruding as I looked on, wide-eyed, at a scene I couldn’t fully comprehend.

Rachel wasn’t surprised to learn, that the few times I’ve had sex with other women, I seemed to have quite the tit fetish.

I sometimes wonder if that’s why my ex-husband eventually wanted to get a boob job. Or if it was his gender-fluidness I was attracted to in the first place. Or if that’s why I was attracted to Kyle. And Scott. And Jared. They were bros, through and through. Maybe I wanted less female influence in my sex life. Rachel would say that was me fucking less like my dad, and fucking more like I was being fucked by him.

Fucking therapists and their Oedipus complex.

My foot shook with the impatience of sitting still, the old-fashioned yellow subway seat beneath my bare thighs as my business skirt hiked it’s way up towards my lap. I didn’t care. Modesty was never my thing.

I thought of my lifeless corpse, bloated with murky water and cold to the touch, being dragged up from the Hudson, a dull red slit from ear to ear. I imagined the detective, his hand expertly crawling up my thigh, as he examined the bruises my killer left. His signature on my pale skin. Kyle getting a call, telling him I was dead. Him nodding silently, the phone clutched to his ear as he remembered my warm, living body beneath his. As he imagined the spreadsheets he didn’t know how to fill out, left half empty in my work folder on the shared hard drive. My expressionless face lingering in his mind as he glanced over to Jacelyn, her low cut shirt exposing too much cleavage.

I knew from experience that Kyle also had a bit of a tit fetish.

I brought the plastic straw to my lip and took a drink. The warm, bitter taste of beer hit my tongue with pleasure.

The train skidded to an abrupt stop. Looking up, I glanced at the electronic map. Four more stops till I was home. I groaned, and looked around. The young men hadn’t even noticed, the businessman was still engrossed in the sweet falling pieces of brightly colored candy.

I continued to read the words of a woman entwined in the social construct of sex and marriage and the myth of love. I had seen love before. And I knew it to be fake. A half-thought out blend of hormones and evolutional training. Maybe it wasn’t laundry detergent Kyle smelled of, maybe it was pheromones? Sparkly, clean, fabric softening pheromones.

The train was still stopped. I looked up at the map again, as if it would have changed. I’m 15 minutes from my stop. Why am I still here? I uncrossed my legs, recrossing the previously bottom thigh over the other, the damp skin clinging to the yellow plastic. I thought of Jacelyn and her description of some new global social synergistic bullshit. I looked up at the young men in front of me, still hollering as if no one else was in the car with them. I tried to will one to look at me. To fuck me with his eyes.

They didn’t seem to notice. They never do.

I leaned back in the seat, and looked down at my book.

The main lights in the train went off with the low hum of electricity dying. The emergency lights remained on, illuminating the train car in a low white glow. The young men started whooping loudly, braven by the sudden mask of near-darkness. I shifted in my seat, slightly, trying to mask my discomfort. The men continued to pay no attention to me. The businessman looked around in confusion for a brief moment before shrugging to no one and continuing his game.

The emergency lights shuddered, and went out. I blinked in the blackness of the tunnel. I’ve been riding the New York City subways for more than ten years, and I had never seen the emergency lights cut out before. I listened, stretching my ears into the darkness, but only silence greeted me. The young men had become silent. I didn’t think the emergency lights could turn off.

I sat, as still as possible, not breathing. I closed my book slowly, turning my head from side to side, trying to make out any movement that might be coming towards me.

I felt something I don’t feel very often: vulnerability.

Placing the book back into my bag, I tightened my legs against each other, trying to protect myself from the darkness. Hugging my bag to my body, I listened intently. The train was disturbingly silent.

“Boo!” Yelled one of young men. I jumped in my seat and a high pitched scream from his friend followed, along with a chorus of loud laughing. My heart pounded and I sighed with relief. Voices now filled the car around me, normal speech volume increased to compensate for the lack of visuals. My body relaxed as the tension melted from my muscles.

The train filled with the sounds of strangers chatting, some joking about the situation, other freaking out, faces illuminated with the glow of screens and the small flashlight beams from phones traveling from body to body. The train’s speakers were oddly quiet, no staticy voice explaining the bizarre situation. I groaned internally, and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the greasy glass of the train window, now shrouded in nothingness.

I felt someone sit beside me. Alarms began to ring throughout my head as I shifted slightly away from their mass. I stayed sitting though, not wanting to be rude or to try and walk around in the darkness. The roving flashlights had stopped, pointed at either the ceiling or floor, or occasionally a book. The light illuminated some of the train, but mostly filled it with tall dark shadows. My end of the train remained fairly black. The young men had moved further down, probably trying to find a group of young women to comfort. I squinted towards where I remembered the businessman sitting, but it was too dark for me to see him.

Hot breathing climbed up the side of my neck. Goosebumps formed and I scooted further towards the wall, away from my neighbor. I felt the large mass move with me, pressing up against my side, squeezing me between him and the wall. From the size, I assumed it was a man. His body was firm and he was leaning on me, his thighs, stomach, and chest blanketing me.

I opened my mouth to protest, but a large hairy hand covered half my face. My bag fell to the floor with a quiet clang as I twisted in my seat, trying to force his body away from mine, but he only moved closer.

He rotated onto me, his chest against mine. I could feel his breath on my face. The hand he wasn’t using to cover my mouth grabbing clumsily at my breast. His pants stiffened, his erection pressing against my thigh as hot tears flowed down my cheeks.

My mind jumped away from the situation, and for just a moment, the heavy mass of my attacker was colored over with the sensation of Kyle on top of me. My brain was heavy with alcohol as I reached to him, encouraging his frame onto mine, kissing his neck. I dropped my head into the pillow, my hands on his shoulders as he looked at me, his eyes glazed with lust and beer.

“How’s Stacey?” I had asked.

He shrugged and looked to the wall, “I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

My hand grazed down his chest, relishing in the fine light brown hairs. So soft it felt like fur.

“How have you been?” He asked, not looking at me.

My attacker’s fingers grasped onto my nipple, pinching hard. I squeezed my eyes in pain, and pushed feebly at his form.

How had I been? Why the fuck was I having sex with someone who didn’t ask how I was until seconds away from being inside me? Why the fuck was I in love with a man who I wasn’t convinced would notice if I died? And why the fuck does he refuse to acknowledge me?

I bit down. Hard.

The man gasped, his hand flying from my mouth. I gulped in air from the train, no longer tainted by his sweaty grasp.

Kyle’s half-cocked smile filled my mind

“You’re adorable.” He said.

My hand shot through the black air. I found flesh, and I grabbed at it. It was thick and sweaty, but narrow enough for my fingers to wrap around it. The man gasped and tried to cry out, but the sound was only halfway from his lips before the air stopped and his plea was muted. The din of the train echoed around us as the man fell silent.

“I think we should just be friends.” He said.

I had found his throat.

I squeezed as he tried to fall back, but while he was heavy and strong, I was light and fast. I tightened my grip as I climbed on top of him, my knees digging into his lap. He tried to yelp in pain but no air could escape.

“You’re really good at that.” He said.

His wet throat felt more pliable in my hand than I would have expected. His skin pressed through between my fingers as I used the weight of my body to push into him. One large hand pulled at my arm as the other hit my chest. My breath caught with the force.

“I don’t want to cause any issues at work.” He said.

He grabbed the side of my head, and twisted. My neck strained with pressure, and the spots where his fingers dug into my flesh stung.

I reached my other arm up, squeezing his body between my thighs to keep myself balanced, and took his face in my hand. My thumb found his cheekbone, and then his eye.

“We’ll hang soon.” He said.

I dug my thumb deep into the organ, my other hand clamping his throat hard so his scream couldn’t escape.There was a wet popping sound as the eyeball burst with the pressure. Warm liquid spattered up my arm. The man convulsed, his arm hitting the side of my face hard. I was knocked forward, banging against the plastic seat in front of us. My head rang, and I could feel wetness in my hair.

“Fucking bitch.” He coughed, his voice weak from his damaged throat. His hand grabbed my knee and pulled me towards him. I felt my leg snap with the strain and the sides of the seat dug into me painfully.

I grabbed the man’s head in both of my hands, and pulled. He screamed.

“I’ve been busy.” He said.

“Are you ok?” Someone yelled. I could hear the rest of the train, finally aware of an issue at the back of the car, begin to converge.

“I don’t want you to take it personally.” He said.

I pulled again, kicking in the opposite direction, the hoarse screaming in my ear deafening me, until I heard a loud crack, and the screaming stopped. The weight of the dark mass fell on top of me. Dead.

I laid there, his body on mine, and panted. My eyes were blinded with flashlights and I squinted at the featureless crowd around me.

“What the fuck!?!” Someone screamed.

“He was… he was…” I sputtered, pushing the man off of me. “He was trying to…” I exploded into sobs.

A reassuring arm wrapped around my shoulders, and lead me away from the back of the car as the lights came on.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience.” The conductor's voice hissed above us, “this train just experienced a complete power failure. We will be pulling into the station in just a moment. Police and medical personnel will be there to assist in any issues that might have arose during the blackout. Please do not leave the station until we’ve confirmed all passengers are ok.”

I looked back at the last seat in the car and saw the businessman who I had noticed playing Candy Crush earlier. He lay on the seats, his mouth opened. One eye stared right at me. The other was a mess of blood, dangling from his eye socket.

Guess what, Kyle. I did take it personally.

I wasn’t convicted of murder. It was bloody and overzealous, but it was still deemed self defense. I found out later that the man who tried to attack me was named Bryan. He had served a two month sentence for sexual assault and attempted rape four years ago. The state appointed lawyer told me that was good. A past criminal record and Bryan’s lack of any family to press charges against me meant I was mostly in the clear.

I was in the news a lot, after it happened. A lot of people called me a victim. Some called me a hero, and some called me a psychotic bitch. I don’t mind though. It feels good to have affected someone. Because I'm affectual. I killed a man with my bare hands. You could even say I’m impressive.

#nosleep #shortstory #horror #nyc #meltingalphabet

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