#it took me fifteen minutes to finally decide I'd just use both of them

[hellparkri]

The Morning After

No one could sleep that night... Everyone was still remembering that experience with the Ouija board that happened just a few hours ago: they all slept together that night, not out of fear, well... Clyde did, but the reason they slept together was to have a good time... And somehow that thought of what happened a few hours ago was still haunting them, they even took turns for two to fall asleep while two watched that nothing paranormal or out of the ordinary happened.

While none of them had a dream that they could consider "good", "none of them were even minimally close to it", the one who had it worst was Craig Tucker; All night, both on guard and "sleeping" she could not stop thinking about her beloved: Thomas... "Could I see him again? What if I could talk to him? Is he thinking about me?" were some of the doubts that Craig had in his mind. She spent all that night thinking about her late boyfriend, that maybe she can see him again, what had happened was completely real, the possibility that she could contact the soul of her beloved was quite plausible... Alone... I needed to find a way to get back in touch with him, maybe I could make a deal... "I'd do anything..." he constantly told himself that he shook his head to make his brain forget everything and just let him sleep in one go...

"Craig, I hate waking you up now, but you have to see this." Tolkien shook his friend slightly; as he did before.

.Uh? Do I have to stand guard already?-.

-Not yet. It's still about fifteen minutes away, but you have to see this." Tolkien pointed to his window: Strong red and blue lights could be made out in the distance, the sounds of those sirens echoing faintly throughout the village. They were all awake looking at those sirens in the distance. Everyone thinking exactly the same thing...

-Do you think it has to do with the Ouija board?-. Clyde asked as he wiped his tears.

-C-c-what would be the p-possibilities? S-I just don't-see it p-possible-.

Jimmy is right. Craig added. "Who knows, and all this doesn't even have anything to do with what happened this afternoon..." We should first investigate what has just happened, then see if we can provide even a single ounce of useful information."

The discussion about what they had to do continued for more than an hour. But in the end they simply decided to wait until they have more information about what happened; They took turns on their guard duty again and just let the night pass. Everyone was becoming more and more paranoid about what happened, but no one wanted to say it out loud.

Craig's dream didn't improve either: as soon as he closed his eyes he could see Thomas smiling at him, as if he were waiting for him from beyond...

It was the longest night they had in their lives, but finally, at 5:20 AM Craig and Jimmy woke up their two other friends. They discussed whether they should go to school in the conditions in which they were, but their argument had to be interrupted by a call from Jimmy's phone. It belonged to a friend of hers: Esther.

-Hello? Jimmy?-. Esther asked with some seriousness and sadness in her tone of voice. "T-I have to tell you~ K-Kevin was killed tonight~-. Esther's voice broke into tears, they began to be heard through Jimmy's cell phone, quickly the boy's expression turned into one of absolute horror; Everyone thought something like that would happen, but never that it would happen to a person they were relatively close with. Esther only had the strength to tell him that if they had any information about what happened to please contact the authorities, who had already begun the investigations, they had even assigned two policemen to visit the school where Kevin lived and would be all day gathering students who,  either they wanted to provide some information, or they simply wanted to know what the murderer's face looked like. Esther hung up and wished Jimmy and company a good day. They were all left with a lump in their throats that was difficult to describe; Craig was the first to decide to speak.

"Well, I'll take a shower and go tell the police what I know: Pretty much nothing." What's more, we didn't even think that maybe all this is a horrifying coincidence. Or suppose it wasn't and that the same "thing" that almost killed us attacked Kevin, and then? What do we tell them? Shall we tell you that a demon knocked over a bookshelf and closed a door out of nowhere when we were partying? For God's sake they'll think we were high! They wouldn't take us seriously for a million years." Craig said in an irritated and nervous tone; His whole body was too weak because of lack of sleep, his dark circles looking more like dark bruises than anything else. Without saying more, he left Tolkien's house.

Elsewhere in South Park; Far away in the woods, a young man with blond hair and blue and white clothes was rinsing his face in a large river located in a dense forest mass located on the outskirts of South Park.  His entire previously elegant suit had been completely stained with blood. And far from feeling panic or at least some concern about having been discovered, his greatest concern was now not being able to find his beloved without having to sneak away. That was the sole purpose of my being in the world of the living in the first place.

"Hell, Pip... What have you done?" I must start controlling myself-... The blond said to himself in a low voice as he brushed his teeth in the river. Pip couldn't stop thinking about his partner as he wiped wet leaves off his clothes. His beloved he thought about so much was named Damien Thorn; with hair as black as coal and as pale skin as a dead man's, dressed all in black with only a small orange Hawaiian jacket with little black decorations, Damien was the only person who showed Phillip real attention, Damien was the only person who took him in when no one else did.  Damien was not only a love interest, he was now her spouse... And he was also the king of hell, or well, on paper he was supposed to be, he spent more time by Pip's side, he even spent more time on earth doing God knows what there. Damien always disliked ruling, but he was the only person who was treating the souls of hell as human beings, under his rule, hell stopped being so cruel and ruthless, this angered quite a few, but it was what Damien wanted, and it was what would be done. That's why I didn't want to quit, it would just cause all that hard work to go to hell overnight.

But, even with all this utter chaos, Damien was always strangely gentle with Pip, in the eight years they'd been together, "two as friends, five as boyfriends, and one as husbands." Damien had never, ever said a single foul-sounding word to his boyfriend. After more than seven years together, they finally decided to marry and live together for all eternity. That day, the day of their wedding, was impregnated impregnated in Phillip's mind as if it were the ink on the page of a book, he remembered every second of that day, how could he not do it? He remembered everything from the clothes worn by all the guests, to the journey they both took through the world of the living. It was a wonderful day, it was almost a year of that... Time flies by... doesn't it?

Phillip looked at his wedding ring for a few seconds, his eyes were completely focused on that piece of metal with shiny red diamonds and purple pearls decorating the entire ring. In the center was located the largest diamond of them; It was adorned with two silhouettes of the two of them dancing in the sunset, Phillip was able to see that ring for hours, well, that was because he always did, every day of every week he took time to admire that testimony to the eternal love for his partner. It was beautiful, even when she saw it she blushed just like the first time Damien showed it to her.

Although not everything was perfect, lately Damien was starting to be absent more than necessary, their one-year wedding anniversary was approaching very quickly, and those beautiful first months in which they only talked until they fell asleep were over... They didn't talk so much anymore, Damien was less attentive; more forgetful, more rude, above all, **much** less detailed with the blonde. Pip found his beloved's behavior too strange, even when they barely knew each other he was so distant, he had tried to talk to him about it, but without success. Damien hadn't even tried to pretend he cared about ruling hell, he just went to earth, spent hours and hours there, and came back without much explanation. And Phillip? Well, now, there he was, thinking about all the catastrophe that was happening down there in hell, and pondering where his beloved was going for so long.

He finished washing his face and got up; His face showed that he now seemed to be much more tense, he was beginning to squeeze his hands against each other. Pip simply felt horrible when he didn't have Damien, he tried to distract himself, but he had simply gotten to the point that without Damien, he just didn't feel happy, his mind was filled with doubts and anguish in seconds if Damien wasn't there, he knew deep down that that was horrible and terribly wrong, but he didn't want to admit it...  He got rid of any thoughts of infidelity and simply watched the sun; He had only been out for a few hours. Phillip needed to meet the rest of his comrades, he had to explain to them the mistake he had made. They had agreed to mark a small cave to the north of the forest; They had already marked some subtle landmarks to help them get there: Scratches on trees, stones piled up around bushes, and branches pointing in the direction of the location of the new one. The sun at dawn rose to the east, so he simply went in the opposite direction from where he came out and followed the signs until he reached that dark cave, took a breath and said wearily to his three comrades while wiping the sweat from his forehead:

"I would like to apologize in advance for not being able to stand the hunger, I just came to tell you that now we have a huge little problem..."

[drtanner]

It's cold and shitty outside so instead of walking the dog and making both of us miserable, I'm going to tell you about the blessed roulette experience I had the other day. ( b ._.)b

After being a bard for long enough to get it to level 90 and never having tried anything else, I decided I wanted to make the most of the EXP the MSQ was giving me and start working on a new job. I'd been tempted to try tanking for a while but as some of you will know if you've been here a while, I'm terrified of doing anything that I can't guarantee I'll instantly be good at, so I'd been putting it off. However, since the MSQ requires level 60 for all of its quests in Stormblood, I didn't have any jobs levelled enough to qualify with the exception of Gunbreaker and Sage, which both started at 60, and I wasn't nearly ready, mentally or emotionally, to try being a healer, so Gunbreaker was the obvious choice. It took me a few hours to understand what the fuck I was doing and what my new abilities were, but after putting it off for a day I finally decided I was going to chance some roulettes and get some proper grinding done.

So I get into these roulettes near-instantly, which is a nice change of pace from playing DPS and waiting for ten or fifteen minutes for each one, and I greet the party in the chat window as we're loading into the dungeon to say HEY JUST SO YOU KNOW IT'S MY FIRST DAY AS A TANK SO PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME, I'M DOING MY BEST :') so that nobody gets their expectations up or gets mad when I don't do big pulls or whatever. This generally goes pretty well! My first roulette dungeon results in one (1) wipe because a boss mechanic caught us out but I perform decently well otherwise and everyone is very nice to me. I do my 50+ dungeon, my levelling and my trial before getting into a main scenario roulette, which is Praetorium because of course it is, so I do my little HEY HEY HEY I'M A BABY TANK IT'S MY FIRST DAY PLEASE BE NICE TO ME bit and everyone is lovely, and I gather quickly from the banter that these three people are in their own party together.

This is fine because Prae has loads of long, unskippable cutscenes that you can just talk through. If I have a good party and they like to talk, I enjoy Prae a lot just because of that! So we bond a little bit and partway through I tell these people that I'm grateful for them being so kind and patient and that I'd give them all my commendation if I could, and they get bantering again trying to decide who should get the commendation until one of them goes I HAVE AN IDEA.

YOU SHOULD GIVE YOUR COMMENDATION TO WHOEVER IS CUTEST.

At this point I actually look at their names in the chat window and realise they're all girls, so I go ALRIGHT THEN BUT I HAVE TO TELL YOU, I'M SUPER FUCKING GAY.

(In fairness, they should have worked this out already given that my character looks like this:

... but there's a lot of youngsters in this game and one can't expect everybody to recognise Stelak for what he is, so I told them. You know, just to be sure.)

So I explained to these girls that this would be a measure of purely aesthetic cuteness, platonic cuteness, if you will, and one of them was like THAT'S COOL, I'M ACE SO I CAN GET BEHIND PLATONIC CUTENESS LOL and I went OH SICK ANOTHER ACE FRIEND FOR MY COLLECTION OF ACE FRIENDS. I'M COLLECTING YOU. and she went LOL THAT'S COOL ERIKA COLLECTS TRANS FRIENDS and I said WELL I GUESS SHE BETTER COLLECT ME TOO THEN LMAO. And there was a moment of silence before someone went:

WAIT, ARE WE ALL TRANS????

And I went OH WHAT???? SAME HAT????? and they all went SAME HAT!!! and I went SAME HAT!!!!! and we all had a little moment until one of them actually did notice Stelak's outfit in a cutscene and they all started telling each other to look at him, lmao. So we roasted the shit out of Nero and Gaius in the chat and had a blast and after we were finished they lined up and I made my pick of Cutest Girl to give my commendation and they all gave me theirs, and then we parted ways, probably never to see each other again. :')

Anyway I'm going to remember that until I die, I think.

[sweetiesicheng]

kun - fire drill

word count : 736

-

"stupid essay..." you mumbled as you submitted your assignment. you looked at the time on your laptop and saw that it was just about to be three o'clock.

so sleepy...

you closed your laptop and climbed into your bed. you pulled your blanket over yourself and closed your eyes.

but all of a sudden, the fire alarm started going off and you just opened your eyes.

is this a fever dream?

you got out of bed and peeked your head into the hallway.

"is this a drill?" someone asked a few doors down from you.

"i think so," another person spoke while walking past you.

you stayed quiet and slipped on your sandals before walking out of your room. you went downstairs and went into the lobby before exiting the building.

"y/n!" you heard your name being called out and turned around to see some of your friends standing together. you walked up to them, where your boyfriend immediately hugged you.

"it's cold..." you mumbled your words.

"why are you wearing shorts? you should've put sweatpants on or something," kun scolded you before kissing your forehead.

"if there was an actual fire, i'd probably be running for my life, not worrying about sweatpants," you spoke.

"and yet you put sandals on?" ten asked you.

"oh shut up," you replied. kun let go out of you and took his jacket off. he draped his jacket over you and hugged you again. "can i spend the night in your dorm?" you asked him.

"you can, just don't go into the bathroom. you really don't want to go in there," jaehyun spoke up.

"yea, somebody threw paint all over the floor and shower and we're still cleaning it up," kun added. "you're sleeping in the hallway tonight, jungwoo."

"what did i do?!" the accused whined and pouted.

"why do we know this dude?" lucas asked.

"you're no better! you threw my textbook out the window and almost hit someone!" doyoung complained.

you looked at the time on kun's watch and saw that it was fifteen minutes past three o'clock.

"hey, where's everyone going?" jungwoo asked and you saw some students walking to another building.

"i guess we're all going in there," jaehyun said and all of you started walking towards the basketball center.

kun held your hand and both of you started walking. "were you asleep?" he asked you.

"i had just fallen asleep," you mentioned. "i was trying to get something done before today, but i procrastinated. were you awake?"

"me and jaehyun were dealing with the idiots, so yea," he replied. "i was on ra duty anyone so i just decided to stay up.”

"i still can't believe you took the job. you work way too much and just piled on more work for yourself," you said to him as you walked into of the student center.

he shrugged his shoulders as you guys followed your friends. "i'm up late because of them anyways, so it's alright."

you and your friends were gathered in a corner. kun sat down and made you sit down on his lap while he hugged you to keep you warm.

"do you think they'd notice if we took this?" lucas asked, trying to lift a giant pot with a plant in it.

"i swear to god, i'll actually write you up if you do something stupid while we're here," jaehyun spoke and pulled lucas to sit down with us.

all of the guys talked while kun rubbed his hand up and down your back. you were in the verge of falling asleep before everyone started leaving the student center to go back to the dorm hall.

"babe, we need to go," kun said to you.

you buried your head in the crook of his neck and whined.

"i can take over tonight if you want to be with her," you heard jaehyun say to kun.

"you sure?" kun asked.

"yea, it's fine. i need to get some work done anyways," jaehyun replied.

"okay, thanks," kun replied. "babe, come on, at least walk back."

you grumbled and finally stood up while rubbing your eyes. kun walked his arm over your shoulders and walked you back to the dorm hall.

he brought you to his room, and you instantly laid on his bed and hogged his blanket. kun chuckled and laid down next to you, "sleep well," he said and kissed your forehead.

[thetrespasserfrontier]

Security Record: Poachers Incident

(Report by R. Muldoon)

The inevitable has finally occured: poachers. The eventuality has been discussed time and again, and has finally happened. Perhaps I was the only one who took it seriously. This past week, a routine survey of Sector 023, along the Parasaur game trail, turned up several animal foot traps. Management decided long ago not to employ such devices, and so it was relative certainty not to be from InGen personnel. Less than a week later, an empty Benelli shotgun was found on the edge of Sector 024, where Ornitholestes are known to hunt. For my part, the evidence was conclusive. I put together a team of myself, Mr Andrews, and Dr Carter to seek out and locate the poachers. We took a standard InGen survey Jeep and eventually found footprints near where the traps had been found. Getting out of the Jeep, Dr Carter and I advanced on the prints' trail while Mr Andrews attended to the wheel. What we found next was more than I expected. The shredded remains of a tent, a multitude of empty shells, a broken gas lanturn. Human and Dinosaur prints in all directions. The Dinosaur prints were indeed Ornitholestes, but we found only a dash of blood on the tent. After searching the campsite another fifteen minutes, I finally discovered where all three individuals had gone, into the bush. Dr Carter had found a tuft of human hair, but it wasn't anything to go by. We followed the prints. I thought briefly that we would end up right in the Ornitholestes nest. But no, all three sets of prints passed it by. Eventually we passed out of Sector 024, then through 025 and 026, when we came to a stand of oaks. Already cautious, we suddenly heard a growling nearby, and I signaled to halt. The growling continued, and then there was a shot. It was unclear if the shot hit, but the growling continued, more aggravated this time. After a moment, one of the poachers yellwed out, something to the effect of "Get back you Devil!" It was a sothern American accent. Then a different voice, something in Spanish. More shots were fired. I had a plan. Dr Carter and I circled the large oak, where it was evident the voices had come from, somewhere in the canopy. There were a good deal of branches low to the ground; we scaled the tree quietly. Coming around the trunk, we saw the two men standing, not seven feet away from us. The American was shaking. Then, without a thought, I fired my tranquilizer at the Ornitho. It stood in surprise briefly before collapsing to the ground. The two men turned to face me, my gun already aimed. They looked at each other a moment. They did not seem as upset as I'd expected, but they threw their weapons to the ground and lifted their hands. No sooner had I begun to step forward than a screaching sound came from behind me. Not moving my aim, I looked back just in time to see a Dimorphodon racing toward me. I had no time to react; it scratched my face as it flew past. I had just enough time to see the pterosaur land on a poacher's shoulder before falling head-first out of the oak canopy. Dr Carter was fast. He gripped my ankle and held it, the rest of me dangling there like a piñata. I heard both poachers laughin briefly, then exchanging words and jumping to the ground below.

We never found out what happened to them. After Carter and I got down from the oak, a storm began, and the mud became too difficult to track through. Either they are still out there, or they got smart and left. That Dimorphodon looked unusual, I'm not sure it was ours. But this incident will be our first reminder to add what new security measures are necessary.

[harktheharold]

we’re only getting older baby

[teasty]

hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● warnings: chan acts like a dick but he really isn't | illegal gambling/street racing | established relationship | angry sex | (of course) car sex | hair pulling | degradation + praise | dom!chan, sub!reader | fighting :( | semi - public sex | profanity | suggestive dialogue | reader slaps chan once :( | unprotected sex (please be safe!) | choking | kind of a quickie???? | super happy ending because i'm sappy like that

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

[giaourtopita]

oh no i was summoned by a religiously traumatised 17 year old and now i gotta babysit them

i wrote most of this chapter while watching kpop mvs and all i have to say is that the mvs REALLY helped. they kept my brain so stimulated that i couldn't get distracted (for the most part). if you have trouble concentrating maybe try something similar? idk it helped me so i thought i'd share

warnings: religious trauma, isolation/bullying, strict (verbal abusive) parents, angst towards the end.

<previous part

*mc was at school, the bell had just rang but they didn't want to go to the field where p.e. classes were taking place. they were already clowned enough for not agreeing with the teachers and causing fights all the time, they didn't want to be made fun of for their lack of athleticism too.*

*when they finally got there they made up an excuse at the spot and were able to avoid exercise.*

*they went to the back of the school building so they could be in peace on their own. they looked at their grimoire, which they had with them at all times.*

*they looked carefully at the pages, reading small details about the demons satan had told them. before deciding to summon a demon they looked around and were able to find a soccer ball that no one seemed to care about, after that they looked at the snacks they had packed with them and decided they were enough.*

*after doing the spell a tall figure appeared, they were used to seeing all these tall demons but this one was the tallest they've seen so far. he looked intimidating but since satan told them about him they weren't so scared of him.*

*and even if anything happened, both satan and lucifer taught them a few protection spells so they were safe. each of the already summoned brothers told them that they would help.*

*the demon approached them cautiously, not wanting to scare them since he was aware that people found him intimidating due to his height and body mass.*

???: uhm, hi i'm beelzebub. you must be the human that keeps summoning my brothers.

*mc introduced themselves and rushed to get the ball they got a few minutes ago.*

beelzebub: so, why did you summon me? you're at school, shouldn't you be in class right now?

mc: well, right now i am in class. it takes place outdoors and i was convincing enough with my excuse so i'm not participating right now!

beelzebub: well that's not a good thing. do you want to play with that ball?

mc: sure! and i summoned you because, well it's p.e. and from what satan told me you like that stuff. plus, you guys are much more pleasant to spend time with than anyone in this school.

*mc told him while kicking the ball. beel kicks it back while trying to match the power mc used in their kick.*

beelzebub: why is that? humans don't summon demons just to hang out...

mc: well, i don't really get along with the people here, they don't like me and neither do i to be honest. we don't really agree and they make religion sound like it's such a good thing when in reality it's really not. not to mention that a lot of them make me feel uncomfortable with their beliefs.

beelzebub: oh, i see. well, i think it's good thing that you support your opinion so fiercely.

mc: thank you.

*mc said while frowning and kicked the ball using a tiny bit more strength than the last time they kicked.*

mc: wait! don't pass me the ball yet!

*mc ran to their backpack and took out a big packet of biscuits, and signalled beelzebub to come near them.*

*mc took out a few cookies for themselves and gave the rest to the demon.*

mc: here, everyone likes cookies so i got the big packet in case i had someone to share them with.

*the demon sat beside them and before eating he thanked them since was very hungry.*

beelzebub: do you always do that? bringing cookies in case someone wanted to share with you?

mc: well, i don't exactly do it everyday because i know people don't really like me very much but yes sometimes i do bring extra stuff!! did you like the cookies? they're my favourite!

beelzebub: yes, i did! do you want to continue playing?

mc: sure!

*the two continued playing for about fifteen minutes until the weather darkened, mc suggested that beelzebub goes back home because it will probably rain soon.*

*beelzebub said goodbye to them and teleported back to the devildom.*

*mc started walking towards their peers but since they were pretty far away from them, it suddenly started raining heavily. they managed to get inside but they were already soaked.*

*once they got into the classroom, the rest of the students started loughing at them for being soaked. they couldn't think of a reason why people were making fun of them, this could have happened to anyone, mc thought while trying to hold back their tears.*

*they were used to not being liked but this, this was a little excessive. mc packed their school bag and rushed to the principal's office so they could call their parents and go home.*

*when their father got there and mc entered the car, he lost it. he started yelling at them, calling them stupid for staying outside and getting soaked. he started complaining about how he shouldn't have come to pick them up and how they made him seem unprofessional at work and then he started talking about how he was a good parent for coming to get them.*

*they finally got dropped off in front of the their house, their father immediately left and mc was alone again. at least no one will yell at me now, they thought.*

next part >

[mr007pennyworth]

Let's play a game - Headcanon

[v; give me one more night to ruin my life again] - Paintball.

"Okay so I gotta tell this one...it was my fault, after all so, it's late 87' I think when this happened, we were in southern Germany, and both squads, that was about, 70 men, we had to take it in turns to be off-duty, anyway, my lot go first, I got given Lt Colonel around this time too, I was off to join the SAS in about six months-"

" I decided we needed a team-building exercise after a lot of fighting had erupted over the past week because many lads failed the exam to get into Major and were all feeling a bit stressed out about trying it again. So, one afternoon I'm out with Gareth, walking about this farmland and I see a sign, there's a paintball grounds, and there's me thinking, why not, we got the full tactical gear, we could even use the smoke bombs, we just need to make three teams and we're good to go, Gareth said to me, 'no, bad idea, they'll target me like a bull", I'll get to that bit in a second, So, we go back and everyone agrees to play"

"The next morning, we've got three teams, it's uneven for a reason, there's, myself, and three other Lt colonels, making up one team, then the Majors & Captains and below that, all the Lieutenants"

"So, we split off to three corners of the grounds, we got head sets the lot, it was a real show of who can use what they know in a game where none can get killed right? I mean, they learnt a lot about stealth fighting here, I mean, Gareth, god, right so, my team were Green, Major's and Captains were Red and Lieutenants were Yellow"

"Within about, half an hour, I'd shot down, six yellows and two reds, but I was very surprised I'd not seen Gareth...I chose to hunt about a bit, Lt Colonel Matthews and Mcgregor were just hardcore standing on a deck and shooting at whatever moved and shouting insults which helped to be a great distraction, a few more yellows down, I found a place to hide, it was a small cabin, I reloaded and sat waiting to see if I could see Gareth go by, took over an hour, I was bored by this point, I could hear the younger men screaming every time they got hit and god the stuff...I swear I heard someone at some point screaming 'he shot me in the dick'"

"Men had bruises left right and centre, even in full gear..."

"So, I get up thinking I'd just seen his coat, I'm leaning in the window with my gun up trying to spot him again but he's gone, anyway, it's about ten more minutes and I saw him again, I pretty sure he saw me because he dived and I missed...so, I pull back from the window thinking right, I'm going out there and I head for the doorway...like an idiot, I'm not watching my back, way on earth I didn't, I think I was a bit over-excited about trying to get Gareth when I hear a creak..."

"The pain...of being shot EIGHTEEN TIMES...dear lord"

"I looked over my shoulder and there he's climbed in the fucking window and fires, three in my back, two in my arse, one in the leg I turn shocked and he just keep shooting, god, I had bruises on my bruises, I managed to run for it, but he was following all the way back to my side of the barracks. We hadn't made a rule to be out, so you could be shot as many times until you ran out of ammo, or you tapped out, that was an option too, many of them caved early on, in the end, there was about...fifteen out of thirty-four left standing, only one of them, only one of them without a shot mark...and it had to be Gareth. How the hell, he'd done it I don't know...I shot him in the arse in retaliation after I noticed. But, yes, I mean, I won't lie, Gareth got Major two years before he should have, why, because four Lt Colonels got shot in paintball and this plucky young Captain didn't get even one mark on him. He deserved it, he'd finally had the one moment to show off just what he was capable of and he did, I've still not forgiven him for the dimple in my left butt cheek, he shot me straight in the arse with no hesitation...fucking proud of him, he managed to evade thirty-four players in that game, and shoot me...Mcgregor never let me live it down"

@dontcxckitup

[hot-wiings]

Leave An Ask Or Comment To Be Added To A Specific Characters Taglist.

Requested By: Anonymous

Edited: 11-5-2020 

Katsuki Bakugou fidgeted with his hands as he sat on his couch. He was nervous, a foreign feeling for him. He didn't get nervous, he didn't get scared. Katsuki was confident. Confident and bold. Yet, here he was, acting like a nervous little baby.

“Kacchan...?” 

Your voice called out to him from across the house. Your voice was soft and sweet, a reminder to Katsuki how nervous he should be for what he was about to ask of you. It was big, it was huge, something you both promised to never ask for. 

You made your way over to him and knelt in front of the brown couch. With a concerned look on your face, you grabbed your boyfriend's rough, fidgeting hands. You had never seen Katsuki so nervous and you'd been with Katsuki for a long time. You had been there with him for every fight and stress since the beginning of UA high. You had been there for every struggle on his journey as a hero. It was you two against the world. 

“Babe, what's wrong?”

“I- I want a baby.”

As if his words had burned your skin, you immediately let go of his hands and stood up. You soon began pacing the room nervously. Betrayal and hurt ran through your veins as you turned to him and threw your arms up in the air. 

“You can’t just spring that on me. You never even hinted at the thought of a family.” 

“I thought the feeling would pass... But every time I see a child, I realize how much I want one.”

“We can't raise a child katsuki. We wake up, go to work, come home, eat dinner. We barely even have the time to make one! Children, they require a lot of attention.”

He knew that. He knew they required care. He knew they needed attention. But he wanted one so bad. He wanted one with you. He wanted to be a father. He wanted a mini-him, someone to look up to him. Someone he could teach right and wrong.

“I know. I know they need attention, and I know we promised each other kids would never be in the books for us... But I want one, so bad.”

Your hard gaze on Katsuki softened as you took a spot on the couch next to him. You slipped your hand into his warm one and squeezed it. 

“Look, I'm not ready for a baby. I'm not saying never, just not right now. Maybe in a couple of years, maybe once we're married.”

A deep frown made way to Katsuki's face. You weren't ready for children and you wouldn't ever be. You weren't a kid type of person, you hated them. You would never be happy with children, you would force your self to have them for Katsuki's sake, but you would grow to resent and hate him. 

With a deep sigh, Katsuki squeezed your hand then withdrew it from your grasp. There was only one thing he could do in this predicament. 

“We should break up. I received an offer to work in America and I'm gonna accept it.”

“What the fuck Katsuki? What about us? You don't even wanna try long distance?”

“As far as you're concerned, there's nothing holding me back here anymore.”

He didn't want to hurt you. He hated himself as he saw the tears dribble down his face. He felt sick and disgusted with himself, but this was the only way you'd let go of him. 

With a loud clinking sound, you slammed down a shot glass you had previously downed onto the bar top. Quickly, you waved over the bartender and yelled to get their attention.

"Another one! Please and thank you!"

The barman immediately hobbles over and pours you a new glass. In all honestly, he probably should have cut you off, you were loud and obnoxious, not to mention so wobbly and unstable it was a surprise you were still sitting on the barstool. It was good publicity to have a hero of your caliber in his bar, you'd also been his best customer all night. In fact, you'd been his best customer all week.

You'd been crying over Katsuki for the last two months. During the first month, you were sad. He had started staying at Deku's place and you were sure he'd finally get fed up with his old friend and come back. You were so sure he'd change his mind about leaving. That he'd change his mind about leaving both the country and you, but he didn't. As his plans progressed, he slowly moved more things out of your once shared apartment. During the second month, all you did was cry and drink. Or drink and cry. He was leaving you, he was really leaving you tomorrow. He was at his mother's tonight, and he was heading straight for the airport in the morning.

You down the shot and you're about to flag over the bartender again but you're distracted by the back of someone's head. Dark green hair, even in your drunken state you'd know him anywhere, Izuku Midoriua was in the same bar as you.

"Deku!"

He turned at the sound of his name and smiled as he walked over to you. You both stumble as you walked closer to each other, it looked like he was as drunk as you. Izuku was usually so responsible, guess there really is a first time for everything.

"Hey! I saw on snap chat that you were here, figured you could use a drinking buddy."

His words were slightly slurred but you understood him. It was a surprise Deku was this drunk. While he liked getting a drink after work, he never, never, ever, got plastered. Although you weren't surprised, Kacchan was leaving. His childhood friend was leaving. Though they acted like enemies, they still had their friend moments, they worked in the same agency, they seen each other every day.

However, Izuku was not drunk for the reasons you thought. He was angry and upset, both at himself and Katsuki. He had been the one who introduced you to Katsuki in the first place. Deku had strong feelings for you back then – he still did. He had feelings for you, but you and Katsuki hit it off. He trusted his friend with you, but to see him so callously hurt your heart pained him.

He put you both together, but here you were crying your heart out, the same way he did when you and Katsuki first got together.

Izuku is about to take a seat and buy you a drink when the bartender turns him away.

"You're both drunk off your asses and I'm not properly equipped to deal with a bar fight with a prohero like him in it."

Girl heroes were often underestimated. You surely weren't coming back to this bar or paying your tab.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact he's been thinking of you for years. Maybe it was the wanting feelings he had stored up since the day he brought you to Katsuki. Izuku grabbed your hand and gently tugged you towards him a huge smile on his face.

"You want me to call you an Uber? Or take you somewhere else?"

He offered you an Uber. Even drunk, Izuku was still a hero who cared about civilian safety.

"How about we go back to your place?"

It was an innocent question to a friend, but it was a bad idea. You were both drunk, and things were bound to happen. You were both tipsy and weren't thinking straight. Yet you both entertain the thought and walked out together, hand in hand, like a drunk couple.

Katsuki didn't cross your mind as Izuku took off your clothes. Katsuki didn't cross your mind one bit as you let Izuku fuck you. All that you thought about was the way Izuku grabbed, held, and pounded into you. Katsuki certainly didn't cross your mind the next morning either when you woke up with a naked fucked mess next to Izuku.

Despite the hangover, one thing was for sure. Izuku could fuck.

"So we..."

"Yeah..."

You both had blushes among your cheeks. It wasn't every day you woke up naked with you coworker and friend.

"Do... Do you regret it? I'm sorry, I'm not much of a hero am I? I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, I should've never gotten drunk."

"No, you're a great hero Izuku! It's not like I said no... I didn't push you away, we both wanted that."

You grabbed Izuku’s hand and intertwined your fingers.

"I'm undecided on if I regret it, but I definitely did enjoy it... I hope you did too..."

"I did... Maybe we can in sick to the agency, we could spend the day together. You know, to decide if last night was worth regretting?"

"I'd very much like that."

You looked up at Izuku and smiled at him. It felt good and domestic. You in his bed with a shining smile. It felt like you were his. Like he never lost you to Katsuki. He was determined not to lose you to anybody again.

Katsuki Bakugo maneuvered around people as he looked for you. It had been five years since he last saw you. Five years since he broke your heart and ran away to America. He was back now, and you were the first person he wanted to see. He didn't just want to see you, he needed to see you. 

He had hurt himself as much as he hurt you that day. He thought it would be better to break up, but five years in America taught him that he would never find another person like you. He would never find another woman that could measure up to you. You were so perfect, and in return, he was so shitty. 

All for what? Because he wanted a family and he didn't think you'd be happy giving him one? It didn't matter now. He didn't need a family. He didn't need kids. He just needed you. He didn't have to have kids if it meant he couldn't have you.

Seeing as he doesn't have an apartment, Katsuki had been staying with Eijirou since he got back. They had immediately fallen back into a bromance as if they hadn't been apart for five years. That was how Katsuki got to where he was now, discreetly standing in your home. Eijirou had told him about how you were having a house warming party, despite their friendship, Eijirou couldn't tell Katsuki about the truths and secrets he wasn't privy to in America. All Eijirou could do was stare in sympathy as Katsuki got ecstatic at the idea of seeing you again.   

Katsuki had been there for about fifteen minutes and he still hadn’t found you. With every person he passed, he got annoyed. Most of them were people he knew, Denki Kaminari, Mina Ashido, Ochako Uraraka. People he used to work with, people he went to school with. They all gave him weird, sympathetic looks as they said hi and stopped him to catch up. It was as if they were all apart of some big elaborate secret. Although, he supposed five years apart will do that.   

Katsuki excused himself from a conversation with Denki, who practically begged him to go out for drinks with him sometime. Apparently, he had developed an American accent and Japanese chicks dig that, Denki hadn't changed much. With one swift turn, Katsuki stumbled into a little kid. 

“I-I'm sorry, sir. I was looking for my dad he said he was going to the bathroom and he'd be right back but there are so many people and me- I- I-”

Katsuki could tell the kid was on the verge of a panic attack so he crouched down to the kid's height to speak to him. He had green hair and freckles, for a second Katsuki was taken back to that wanting need for children. He wanted one so bad, but he was prepared to give it up for you. 

“Don't worry about it kid, how about I help you find him?”

Katsuki took the kid's hand. While he didn't want to deviate from his search for you, he couldn't leave this little kid on his own. Although most of the people here were heroes, he couldn't be too safe.

Katsuki had thoroughly searched the downstairs of the house already on his endeavor for you and he hadn't seen a bathroom. He had no choice but to look upstairs, maybe he could find you and the kid's father. Two birds with one stone.

While holding the kid's hand, Katsuki guided him upstairs. He made sure not to pull or yank the kid, he had to go his pace.  

Katsuki couldn't help but look at your house. It was nice and pristine. He felt remorseful for breaking up with you. If he hadn't you two would just be at home, chilling together in the old apartment you used to share.

Katsuki reached the upstairs floor and made his way to the nearest door. He knew it was rude to open random doors and pillage throughout your house but he hadn't a clue which room was the bathroom.

Katsuki turned the nob and pushed the door open. It wasn't the bathroom, however, Katsuki wished he hadn't come in.

This room appeared to be your bedroom. You were inside leaning against your dresser and in front of you was a man. Not just any man, but Katsuki's old childhood friend, Izuku Midoriya. He had his hands on your hips and his face was in your neck, leaving little kisses and whispers into your ear. Worst of all, you were laughing and smiling as he let his damn hands wander over you.

"Dad!"

The little kid rushes over to you and Izuku with relief laced in his voice. Izuku breaks away from you and crouches down to the kid's level. The kid immediately grabs onto Izuku as if his life is hanging in the balance. You crouch down to and rub the child's back soothingly. The way Katsuki remembered you rubbing his back when he was sick and puking his guts up.

"What's wrong buddy? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

"I- I couldn't find you and there were a bunch of people! This house is so big, I wanna go back to grandma Inko's."

The child buried his face in Izuku's chest and you were both so enamored with him. Worry and concern dripped from your voices. Katsuki didn't know how he didn't notice earlier. This child was obviously Izuku's kid, but he just couldn't believe that he was yours. He couldn't believe it. He refused to believe it.

"Bud, we were only staying with Grandma while we finished moving, you'll get used to the big house, I promise."

"Once all the guests leave you'll feel right at home. Besides... You know me and daddy will always protect you, right?"

With his sniffling and tears now coming to a stop, the kid rubs his face and nods at you.

"I know."

It was then that you looked up and saw Katsuki. He hadn't aged much these five years. He wore the saddest face as he watched you and Izuku interact with your child. His heart was breaking and yours broke with it. Of course, it did. He was your first love. He was what led up to the events of your pregnancy.

"Katsuki?"

Izuku's head craned up at the mention of his old friend's name and he frowned. Truthfully, he felt bad for Katsuki. He had what Katsuki wanted, a family. Not just any family, but one with you.

"Hey bud, let's find you some food while mommy talks with her friend."

Izuku picked his son up and carried him out of the room to give you two privacy. He knew how loud Katsuki could get when he was upset, and he did not want his innocent son to experience that. While Izuku didn't want to leave you alone with your ex-boyfriend, he knew you and Katsuki needed to talk. You were each other's first love. There was deep history there, along with deep hurt.

"What are you doing here? It's been five years."

"I missed home... I missed you."

"You broke my heart five years ago. You hurt me, you left me."

The feelings you had for Katsuki were gone, but you still had the urge to cry. He was your everything, you would've married him, but he broke your heart and ran away to America. If it wasn't for Izuku, you would be a drunken hero. If Izuku hadn't been at that bar that night, if you hadn't slept together, if you hadn't gotten pregnant, you would've continued down your path of destructive behavior.

"You broke my heart, you broke me. You don't get the right to come back five years later acting like everything is fine."

"I know that! I know I hurt you, I know I broke you. I can fix it, let me fix it. Leaving you was such a mistake. I never should've done it.

Tears were brimming your eyes as you twisted the gold wedding band around your finger. Katsuki hadn't noticed the band before. He had no choice now but to believe the kid really is yours. Yours and Izuku's.

"You can't fix what's already been mended."

"You married him."

You smiled over at your former lover as you talked about your new one. Katsuki was seething on the inside. Once again, Katsuki had lost to Deku. He was the world's greatest hero, and now he had you.

"I did... One drunken night after you left led to a pregnancy. [Son's Name] wasn't even intentional, he was an accident but Izuku stuck by me. He stayed by my side, he's made me feel loved and safe."

He would beg you. Beg, and beg for you to be with him. Fuck, he wouldn't even care if he had to be a stepfather and share your kid with Deku. He would do it because he wanted a kid, a kid with you. But he couldn't. It was too late. You and Izuku were married, you had a family now. Maybe, had Katsuki stuck around and waited for you to be ready, maybe you'd be a family with him, but he didn't wait. He left. He broke you and left.

With deep regret, Katsuki smiles at you and pulls you into a big hug. He missed the way it felt. The way your body felt against his. He knew he'd never feel it again after this, so he pulled tight and did what he never did. He apologized.

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

Katsuki pulled away from you and walked to the door.

"The kids cute, I'm happy for you."

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

I spent more time on this than I thought I would :/ (I had to add a little visual to this but the amount of hentai I had to scroll past to find that pic-)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: fem!dom!reader, sub!Hongseok, roleplay (teacher/student), use of toys (strap-on), public sex (kinda???), oral (f recieving on strap), hands free orgasm, crossdressing

Extra Credit

An exhausted groan left your lips as you finally finished grading the last essay on your desk, throwing your head back as you massaged the back of it. You had been hunched over your desk for the past 30 minutes, grading your students essays they were told to turn in that day. Sometimes you truly wondered why you decided to teach high school literature when literally no one cared about it. The upcoming exams only seemed to make matters worse, leaving students too tired from hours of studying the night before to comprehend the information you were giving them.

     You jumped when you heard a knock on the back door of your classroom, almost making you fall out of your chair. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to think of reasons anyone would be at your door at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. You cautiously crept towards the door, only slightly pulling back the curtain you had put over the window to see who was outside. A sigh of relief escaped you as you saw your boyfriend on the other side of the glass, though you couldn't tell what he was wearing under his large black coat. Hongseok spun around when he heard you open the door, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

     "What are you doing here? I was just about to start heading home." You asked, letting him step into the classroom.

     "What, I'm not allowed to visit the love of my life every once and awhile?" You raised your eyebrow at the pout on his face when he turned to you. You looked him up and down, trying to spot anything that would indicate an actual reason he was here. He simply giggled at your stare, walking over to you and resting his arms over your shoulders. "I just missed you." The slight whine in his voice made you chuckle and lightly push him away.

     "You couldn't wait fifteen minutes for me to get home?" He whined as you turned around to move back to your desk, starting to pack up a few of your things. 

     "I could've waited, but I wanted to try something." Intrigued, you turned to him. A wide smirk settled on his face as you eyed the bag he had set down on one of the desks. "Close your eyes." You huffed as you leaned back against your desk, half sitting on it as you closed your eyes. You only heard his excited giggles and the unzipping of his coat, increasing your curiosity. After a few more seconds of clothes ruffling he finally told you to open your eyes. The sight in front of you made your breath hitch in your throat.

     Hongseok stood in front of you wearing a skimpy schoolgirl outfit. The top cut off a little less than halfway down his torso, showing off his chiseled stomach. The high waisted skirt he wore cut off halfway down his thighs, showing off a little bit of his thigh since he was wearing thigh highs. The socks were all white except for two stripes of navy blue at the top that matched the skirt. He gave a little twirl as you eyed him, almost making you drool as the skirt lifted up just enough to reveal the white cotton panties he was wearing to complete the "innocent" schoolgirl look. 

     "Soooo, what do you think?" He asked, looked up at you hopefully, the silence slightly scaring him. 

     "Fuck baby." Was all you managed to get out as you walked toward him, letting your hands rest on his waist as you continued to ogle over his outfit. "When did you get this?"

     "Yesterday. I was gonna bring it up when it got here but I thought it'd be better if we did it here." He said, gesturing to the classroom you were in. You hummed in response, your hands trailing up and down his sides.

    "I like the way you think." Hongseok whimpered when your hands landed on his hips again, squeezing harshly. "If I had my strap-on with me I'd bend you over my desk and pound you as hard as I could." He shivered at your words before reaching in the plastic bag he had brought with him, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he let said object hang from his fingers by the harness. You didn't have time to react before he pulled the toy between both of you, fingers loosely wrapped around it as he slowly pumped it.

     "Y'know, sir, the finals are coming up next week but I don't think I'm gonna be able to pass." He said, faking a pout while he ran his index finger up the vein on the underside of the silicone cock in his hands. "Is there anything I could do for some extra credit maybe," your breath hitched in your throat when he looked at you through his eyelashes, slowly bringing the tip of the toy up to his lips to lightly kiss it, "anything at all?"

     A light gasp flew past his lips when you pressed your lips to his in a rough kiss. He immediately melted into you, his knees almost giving out from under him had he not been leaning against a desk. You grabbed the toy from his hand, leaving a few love bites up his neck before growling in his ear.

     "On your knees, in front of my chair, now." He whimpered at your tone, nodding with a quiet "yes sir" as he stumbled over to your desk. You quickly removed your pants, tossing them to your desk and adjusting the silicone toy around your hips. Hongseok hungrily looked up at you as you sat down, eyes practically dripping with lust. He let out a quiet grunt when you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer so the tip of the strap entered his mouth. "Alright baby, show me how badly you need to pass this test."

     Hongseok's hands flew up to your thighs, using them to steady himself as he started taking more of the toy into his mouth. He took as much as he could into his mouth, using his hand to pump what he couldn't fit. He let out a moan around the fake cock everytime he went back down, his eyes closed in bliss. His eyes suddenly snapped open when you grabbed his hair, pulling him a little closer to you.

     "C'mon baby boy, you can take more than that." He whimpered quietly around the toy, trying to push himself down farther and making him whine. His small noises were cut off with a gag when you snapped your hips forward, making his nose touch your pelvis. "Guess I have to do everything myself, don't I." 

     He wasn't given a chance to react before you started fucking his throat. A gag was heard every time his lips reached the base, tears slowly collecting in his eyes. You looked down at him and noticed his hips rutting forward into nothing, desperate for any sort of friction. You scoffed.

     "Is my little slut getting off on this? You enjoy being roughed up and used?" His loud moan was cut off by another gag as his eyes rolled back in his head, nodding as best he could. You smirked down at him, pulling his head almost all the way off the dildo before harshly thrusting forward again. His eyes rolled back in his head as you kept him there, the tip of your cock resting against the back of his throat. You could hear his rapid breathing through his nose as he continued to rut into nothing, drool spilling out the side of his mouth. 

     You started thrusting again, using shallow thrusts that would always hit the back of his throat. Not long after, his breathing started to become more like high pitched whimpers before he let out one last muffled cry, his eyes rolling back and his arms going limp. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked down, a smirk settling on your features when you saw the dark patch over the front of his skirt. You lovingly combed your fingers through his hair as you pulled the toy out, biting your lip at the sight of his red, puffy lips that are slick with drool.

     "Aw, did my baby enjoy himself?" He answered with a hum as he nuzzled his cheek into your thigh, pressing a quick kiss to the exposed skin as he closed his eyes. You lightly pat his head, motioning for him to get off of you as you stood up. He let out a whine as you started to put on your pants and pack up your things. You chuckled as he pouted on the floor. "Get up babyboy, we're going home."

     "But I wanted to make you cum." He whined, reluctantly getting up from his place on the floor. You gave him a quick kiss on the nose.

     "And while I would love that, the janitor should be here in about 5 minutes to clean out the classroom and I don't really wanna be fired." He let out a quiet huff but grabbed his coat to cover himself up from wandering eyes. You chuckled as you both headed for the back door, grabbing his waist to stop him for a second. "Don't worry baby, I'm going to absolutely wreck you when we get home." A shiver went down his spine before he jolted in his spot when you landed a harsh slap to his ass.

     "Hmmm. Maybe I should come visit you at work more often."

[deadlyweapon10]

Honey

Paring: Mina Ashido x reader

Synopsis: Where Y/n secretly crushes on her fellow classmate, Mina Ashido.

Words: 3.5k

Earthy warm, rich, with a hint of sour components along with heaviness of a cocoa.

The aroma of a simple yet delectable coffee wafted into the nose of the (hair color) as she inhaled its exotic scent. A warm feeling growing in her stomach region as she sipped said drink from her favorite one-of-a-kind mug.

She snuggled into her jacket as she sat outside on the chair that was placed on the deck. With the sun barely rising, the air was perfectly warm and gentle, flowers beginning to bloom and birds chirping, typical for spring weather.

As she sat there with a smile on her face daydreaming away the sound of a door opening brought her back to reality.

"Jeez it's barley 6:30 and you're already up? You're the opposite of Aizawa-sensei I swear, always up while everyone is asleep! Have you even eaten yet?" Said the red-head as he walked into the view line of the coffee-filled (hair color) as a chuckle escaped past her lips. "We've lived in the dorms for a month and a half and every single time you catch me out here it's always the same questions Kiri."

The gentle blow of a breeze passed by as the sound of a busy buzzing bee was faintly heard.

Kirishima smiled. "Do you have any plans for today? I'm trying to see if Bakubro, Sero and Denki are down to go to the arcade. If you're not doing anything then would you like to go with us?" He asked while sitting on the chair next to her. The girl thought for a few seconds before opening her mouth. "I would but I feel like reading today. Besides I'd rather let "the boys" have their fun and do whatever it is that you do."

The sound of an apple being bitten into broke the silence, crispy yet sweet. The second Kirishima swallowed he started talking yet again. "You know, "

"Hm?"

"Mina is also coming. You should take the chance to confess-"

"EH?! I have no idea what you're talking about Kiri! Where did you get that idea that I like her. No wait more importantly how did you find out? Ahhhh I practically just told you I do-" Having out her mug down minutes ago, the girl who was in the middle of freaking out continued talking in a fast speed as images of said female flashed in her mind, making her stumble around with her words.

The poor girl could feel her heart thump in her chest and felt all warm inside. If there's anything that could get her to react in such a way then it was simply by mentioning her crushes name. Oh how easy it was to get her all worked up.

"Woah woah calm down! Forget I said that alright. But seriously hang out with us, you need to get out more often. I mean how is it that you have such good fashion sense yet you never leave your room unless it's for food or classes?" He spoke while rubbing the back of his neck, a smile plastered on his face. The both of them stood up at the same time with him grabbing the apples core in one hand and the girls mug in the other before handing it to her. She nodded.

As they walked into the building, now dubbed as their home, they walked through the lounge past the dining room and into the kitchen. Clearing his voice while walking to the blue sofa he looked back at her, "We're gonna be leaving at around 12 to get lunch and then to the arcade that's in the mall. See ya." "Alrighty! See you in a bit."

•°¯'•• 🎀 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒-𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓅 🎀 ••'¯°•

Having been back in her room for just around two hours gaming on her counsel, she got up and looked at the clock on her pastel (favorite color) wall. 'Mm it's only 9:15. I should go shower now so that I have enough time to dress on my very own existence and to choose an outfit.' That means I have two hours and forty-five minutes, which means at least a good hour and thirty minutes to shower and that leaves me with an hour and fifteen minutes which then means I have a good thirty minutes to think about my life while sitting on the corner of my bed in a robe and forty-five minutes to get ready. Perfect.'

And with that she grabbed her towel, bathrobe, shampoo and conditioner, razor (only if you shave, if not then forget that), body soap, deodorant and comb. Taking a quirk look to see if she has everything, she walked to the bathrooms that she shared with the other girls and instantly began her shower. (If you're african american/any other person I didn't include and you wear a wig then instead of shampoo and conditioner you grabbed a shower cap to protect it. I heard it's not supposed to get wet but correct me if I'm wrong.)

•°¯'••   🎀  𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒-𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓅  🎀   ••'¯°•

After her shower she made sure to brush her hair to untangle it before it went back to being straight/wavy/curly. (If you're like me and you have curly hair then obviously you have to put curl smoothies, protection sprays, etc.) and young-life crisis thinking, she began to look through her closet. Before picking out two different options.

(Option 1)

(Option 2)

After a minute on deciding what to wear, Y/n choose the (1/2) option and quickly slipped on the clothes before putting on her shoes. Glancing at the clock and seeing that she only had ten minutes before they were gonna meet up she grabbing her phone along with earbuds/airpods and closed her bedroom door before soon heading towards the elevator.

Scrolling through her phone she clicked a song and began humming along to the lyrics.

By the time she arrived in the lounge, a new song started playing. Looking up she soon spotted the group and started to walk to them when she realized a certain person was missing. "Hey guys where's MinaAAA!" She shrieked as a pair of slim arms wrapped around her body and a head full of pink hair and yellow beady eyes peaked freon behind her. "Hey silly. I'm right here and ready too rumble!"

'Thump.. Thump.. Thump..'

Y/n's heart started to beat like crazy again once her brain processed what just happened. Before she could even talk someone started talking. "Let's get going you extras. I'm hungry and I don't wanna wait around all day." Ah yes, Bakugou. "On it bro." Denki replied as Mina stepped from behind me and walked up to Sero and striked a conversation with him. Speeding up a bit Y/n walked next to Kirishima just in time for Denki to start cracking jokes.

"Hey L/n why do bees have sticky hair?" He asked as Bakugou and Kirishima were listening. "I don't know, why?"  "B-because they use honeycombs!" He shouted as he busted out laughing while Y/n giggled. "How do you idiots find that funny? Is your humor that broken." Bakugou muttered as he turned his attention to Sero's and Mina's conversation.

Feeling sorta left out from the group due to the fact that she doesn't exactly hang out with them as much (except for Mina and Kirishima), she took out her earbuds/airpods and turned on her music again. This time 'it's not u it's me' by Bea Miller and 6lack started playing.

Smiling to herself she began to sway a bit to the music as they neared the mall. As cliche as it sounds, music was always there to comfort Y/n. No matter what would trouble her, she'd always turn to her favorite playlist. Once they all entered the mall and headed straight to the food court she turned off her music and tuned in the the groups conversation.

"Hey L/n," Sero began as the girl turned her head to gaze at him and hummed quickly to show that she was paying attention. "What are you gonna get to eat?" "The only place I ever go to grab my food. I'm gonna head to (restaurant) to grab my usual." Nodding, he soon turned to Mina and quickly talked. "Mina since you said you wanted to try something new to eat you should totally go with L/n." "Holy cow dude! You're totally right." She said as she pumped her fist in the air and walked towards me. "Let's go L/n, I'm super starving." Grabbing my hand she started dragging me. "H-hey broski you're going the wrong way." She chuckled as the Pinkette stopped in her tracks, said a loud "Oops." And took the girl in the right direction. (Is Pinkette a word? Probably not.)

Once both girls ordered their desired meal and sat down, they began to eat in peace for a good few minutes before Mina's phone rang. Smashing the accept call, she out it on speaker. "Whafs uf-" She managed to say as her mouth was filled with food. "Hey Pinky, tell L/n that me and the guys decided to skip the arcade and headed to Game Stop and grabbed the new Cyberpunk game. We're currently on our way to the fast-food place near the school and then we're heading back to the dorms." A loud Denki said, as we heard grunts and insults from Bakugou from their side of the call.

'Wait wouldn't that mean that Mina and I are now alone... Is this considered a date? Of course not. As if she'd even like you.' She thought as she then asked Mina why they suddenly decided to switch their plans so suddenly without saying a word in the first place until now. Without a word the girl hung up the call and continued eating.

"N/n you know that American movie where the princess and prince turn into a frog for the whole movie and then they fall in love and miss then poof, they're human again?" Mina asked breaking the silence that once stood there. "Hm? Oh yeah! 'Princess and the Frog'. I watched it before. Sucks how African Americans finally got recognition from Disney and instead they get bullshit since the two main characters are frogs for three/fourths of the movie!" The (hair color) shouted angrily as she stabbed her food. Laughing at the girls reply, Mina leaned forward in her seat. "You know that dessert they show in the movie a lot? Beignets? I wanna try one so bad." Both girls sat in silence as they got lost in each other's eyes.

'Thump.. Thump.. Thump..'

Feeling her heart flutter, her gaze shifted back to her food. "How about we buy the ingredients and make it? I made it once for a school fair and everyone seemed to like it. Only if you're down of course!" "Wait for real? Like for real real? Big bet let's hurry up and eat!" And with that the Pink haired girl began scarfing down her food, cho.king a few times.

Once they were both done and cleaned up after themselves, both girls left the area and walked to the supermarket. The duo sparking a conversation about their hobbies and interests, soon made it into the supermarket. Walking down aisle after aisle grabbing ingredients left and right, Mina suddenly grabbed Y/n's hand. "Since it's Saturday me and you should totally have a sleepover in my room. Let's go grab more snacks!" And just like before, she dragged you out of the aisle and into the candy and chips one. 'My poor wallet.' Y/n thought as she silently cried. 'Then again if it means I get to hang out with her more ... Ahh! I need to be more social with her. I mean we do talk a lot but I get so freaking flustered and it messes me up. Then again at least I can talk to females unlike Midoriya. Ha in your face!' Feeling pumped the girl grabbed the snacks that were occupying her friends arms, shoved them in the basket and speed walked to the check out line, payed for everything and with both girls holding two bags in each hand they soon began their journey back to the campus dorms.

•°¯'••   🎀  𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒-𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓅  🎀   ••'¯°•

Entering the dorms, both females headed straight to their rooms and quickly changed. Mina wearing blue shirts with a yellow shirt while Y/n wore (f/c) satin shorts along with its matching tank top.

Both now in the kitchen with aprons on, they took out the items they brought for the beignets and placed it on the counter. 'MISS YOU!' by CORPSE was blaring from Y/n's phone as she bopped her head and hummed along to the lyrics while she added the warm water, sugar and active yeast in a bowl and whisked it while Mina measured the other ingredients, which Y/n soon regrets for the face that a mess of flour was all over the counter.

After mixing the rest of the ingredients in the watery liquid and letting it set on a lined baking sheet, Mina took out the fryer and added oil so that it could be ready for later. "Hey n/n can I play a song?" "Of course silly. I wanted to change the song anyways." Laughing like a maniac, Mina grabbed the phone and quickly typed away before placing the phone back on the counter.

"Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me

I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed

She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb

In the shape of an "L" on her forehead"

The voice of both Smash Mouth and Mina's rang out in the air as the girl started singing the lyrics. "Heyyy you should sing with me! Come on." She said as she twirled around the kitchen floor. Giggling as she put the bowl filled with the dough in the fridge, she began shouting the lyrics right along with Mina.

"Well the years start coming and they don't stop coming

Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running

Didn't make sense not to live for fun

Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb

So much to do, so much to see

So what's wrong with taking the back streets?

You'll never know if you don't go

You'll never shine if you don't glow"

Now moving her head to the beat, both girls grabbed each other's hands and began dancing like crazy with not a care to the world, swaying their hips side to side as they sang the next verse with all their heart.

"Hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play

Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid

And all that glitters is gold

Only shooting stars break the mold"

As they continued singing, they began to clean the dishes and put most of the ingredients they wouldn't be using anymore away and took out a pair of tongs, paper towels, powdered sugar and honey from the cabinets. After a good 30 minutes past Mina turned on the fryer, the familiar 'click' of the knob sounding. Taking out the bowl from the fridge, Y/n placed the soft, glutinous dough on the now flour dusted counter and began following it out with the rolling pin until it was a good quarter inch thick and began to slit the doughy flesh making two inch squares just as Mina grabbed a few pieces and dropped it into the hot oil.

As time went by, they were finally finished frying. All they had left was to dust powdered sugar and drizzle honey to it. The second they did so, they took half the batch with them along with a few drinks and the snacks they brought and went to Mina's room. Closing the door on their way in the brightly pink room, they sat down on the bed and hopped on Mina's laptop to watch 'A Slap On Titan'.

"Armin had broken the silence as the video zoomed to the top of the wall, the starry night sky coming into view. "Do you ever with that humans could photosynthesis?"

Eren surprised with the sudden question, instantly replied. "What? No."

"I do... I think it'd be cool to be a plant." The scene then changed to show the Survey Corps coming back from a mission."

Liquid shooting out of her nose, Mina laughed as she grabbed a tissue and wiped her face, watching as Y/n pressed a pillow against her face to muffle her loud laughter. The now chuckling girl took the pillow from her face and noticed Mina's smile that was directed at her direction. Shooting back a toothy grin, she got lost in her eyes yet again.

'Ah jeez she saw me laugh... She looks so cute.'

"You know the beignets were really good." Mina said as she scooted next to her and leaned her fuzzy head on the girls shoulder. "You think so? I hope the others enjoyed the ones we left for them. I'm so happy we got to spend today together! I would have never expected this to happen ya know?" 'Play it cool Y/n. This is no big deal at all, she's probably just a bit exhausted from all the walking and baking we did earlier. Yeah, that's right-'

"You know, I'm the one who told the boys to leave us alone and to head back to the dorms."

That caught her off guard.

"Excuse me?"

Humming to herself, Mina life's her head slightly to look at the (eye color) girl. "Listen silly, I know when it comes to academics I'm not exactly smart, but when it came to you it was easy to figure you out." Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she urged the girl to continue talking. "I know you like me." Y/n's breathing stopped for a second, her heart beating rashly against her chest. How was it possible that the girl she's secretly liked from a distance knew? "Listen I-" She was cut off as a pair of soft pink hands covered her mouth.

"Hold up! Hear me out before you start talking. I sorta found out a few weeks back when I overheard you tell Iida about your feelings. Ever since then I confronted him and I made up this plan for both you and I to hang out alone. Like a date but it's not a date since you wouldn't know? Ahh anyways after I came up with the plan I began noticing how you'd act completely normal around the other girls, but when it came to me you'd barley mutter a word, despite you being super-duper confident." Y/n felt herself breathe again as she stared at the girl, her eyes now filled with curiosity and her head amused at the girls statement. She took the words to heart and found it to be true when she said she'd act differently around her. I mean how could she not when her heart would beat fast, her stomach flutter in nervousness and her brain would completely shut down on her.

"So wait... You like me?" She spoke slowly to make sure her voice wouldn't just randomly give up on her. Now sitting up straight, the pink haired girl nodded as she shyly smiled and rubbed the back of her neck. "I do."

'She likes me..'

The second her brain processed the two words, she locked eyes with her and then shut them down before slowly leaning forward. The feeling of her plump, powdered sugar dusted lips faintly against hers before both girls lips soon meshed into one and began harmonizing as if creating a symphony. It felt passionate and intense, yet delicate and sweet.

Sweet like the honey from the beignets they had moments ago. The floral yet earthy taste now onto her very own lips. Deliciously golden and wild. The strong fragrance drifting slowly to her nose, similar to a white dandelion falling slowly to the ground after being blown by the wind on a vibrant, sun-filled day.

They both soon pulled away, gasping a bit for air. Y/n felt her body get warm as she realized what just happened. "I like you, Mina. A lot. And I'm glad you like me too." She finally confessed. "Finally n/n, I've been dying to hear you say that. Now then let me ask you this, will you be my girlfriend?" Mina asked, her eyes shining as bright as a star in the dark. Y/n leaned forward and kissed the girls nose before speaking. "I'll be happy to be called yours," Both girls soon in each other's arms, held one another until she spoke again.

"Out of all the pretty girls in this world, I'm glad to share this space with you."

[imalifegen89]

A Legacy Left Behind - Chapter - 5 - The Gemmond Incident

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Stargate SG-1

Relationship: Steve McGarrett/John Sheppard

Characters: John Sheppard, Steve McGarrett, Danny "Danno" Williams, PO Higgins (OC), Kono Kalakaua, Adam Noshimuri, Alicia Vega, Laura Cadman, Bates (Stargate), Original Stargate Wraith Character(s), Original Characters, George Hammond, Jack O'Neill, Catherine Rollins, Evan Lorne

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Character Bashing, Not Catherine Rollins Friendly, Violence, BAMF John Sheppard, BAMF Team, No DADT

Summary: Team SG-11 goes on their first off-world mission. It's supposed to be a 'walk in the park,' easing them into the hectic life at the Stargate Command. But things have a way of going off the rails when this particular team is involved. One way or another, they'll prove that they've got what it takes to fulfill their mission.

-o0o-

The first official mission of SG-11, yay!

As always, Salchat, you are the best!!! Thank you so much for all your hard work. I'm improving but I'm still a lot of work for my Beta.

If there are any mistakes, they'd be my own.

Part - 1

Officers Quarters, Pearl Harbor-Hickam Base - Hawaii

The Naval Intelligence Command Analyst, Lieutenant Catharine Rollins, was tired. The 18 hour or so trips from Hawaii to Libya and back were taking a heavy toll and all she wanted to do was go to her quarters, take a long, hot bath, and collapse on her bed for a long, uninterrupted sleep until the next day. Both she and Harrington had been dismissed by Commander Joe White with orders to take the rest of the day off and report for duty the next day when they had returned to the base. Harrington had invited her to go out but she had declined politely, citing jet lag and the need to rest. In her mind, she had been cursing at the damn idiot to stop trying to get attached to her like a freaking limpet and just leave her the hell alone.

She sighed in relief as she finally reached her quarters without having been called away for something or other, despite her being off duty. That had happened a couple of times before and that was part and parcel of her glamorous career as an Intelligence Analyst. She entered her quarters, threw her traveling bag to a corner, and started taking off her sweaty and dusty uniform while fantasizing about a nice, hot, bubble bath. But being just a lowly analyst, she only had a cramped shower in her quarters. 'Ah well, at least it's not like I have to go for a communal shower.' She shuddered at the thought.

Her much-needed long shower turned out to be only fifteen minutes as the hot water got cut off. She sighed and got out, still quite travel weary. Then she found her most comfortable and baggy sweats, an old t-shirt that was a few sizes too big, put them on, and got under the blankets in her bed. She was hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before she had to go out for dinner.

Despite the physical exhaustion, her thoughts turned to the past few hours.

'Why is it that the handsome ones are always either taken or gay?' she asked herself rhetorically.

She had tried her damndest to flirt with the navy SEAL she'd had her eyes on for a while now. But the stupid asshole had been completely oblivious. She had been sure, when they were on their way, in that transport - his loud-mouthed friend had pointed it out clearly to the Commander. But the man had seemed utterly uninterested and even annoyed at his friend. Catharine had been reeling at that response, although she had kept up the pleasant conversation with the idiot, Harrington. Then she had seen the subtle drama between her SEAL and that rather unremarkable pilot. That had given her a clue as to the lack of interest from the guy. She knew she was a very pretty woman and was not quite used to her rather demonstrated feelings going unreciprocated in that manner.

'But he’s got to be bi, hasn't he? So there is still a chance. Claire was pretty sure when she told me that McGarrett used to go out with Anna from the Enterprise during the first year after he got his trident. Pff... I'm a much better catch than that woman, certainly much better than a damn pilot...a plain guy with dumb hair-do, at that...Argh. Besides, fighter pilots don't really have that long life expectancies now, do they? Oh, Steven, you could do so much better, really..' She let her thoughts wander about the latest individual that had caught her attention and his rather ungainly love interests.

She was dragged away from her musings by a certain ringtone on her phone that had only rung twice before. She sprang up in her bed as if she had been electrocuted.

'Shit, shit, shit! I should've anticipated this,' she berated herself, especially after what had happened and where she'd been.

She hurriedly got off the bed, found her personal laptop, and plugged in the special USB/Dongle she had been given about a month ago when she was recruited. She then switched it on, disconnected her internal internet connection to the base, and connected to a different server - a server with an IP address that bounced off several satellites and countries making it impossible to track the connection. She finished running the encryption she had been given along with the USB when a window opened on her screen, indicating an incoming call. She clicked the button to accept, with trepidation.

As usual, a black screen greeted her as the call connected. She had taken steps to protect herself as much as she could and had her camera already covered. She was reasonably sure that whoever was on the other side wouldn't see her either, but she couldn't guarantee it.

"Agent CR-17, this is Zero. We have questions for you," the disembodied and distorted voice coming through the connected call informed her. She grimaced at the 'handle' she'd been given. Then she took a deep breath to clear her mind and remember the details of the past 30 hours.

"Yes, please ask your questions," she replied when she was sure her voice was even and polite.

"You have participated in a certain meeting. Give us the particulars," the voice ordered.

'Well, that's easy enough,' she thought as she mentally listed the main points of the meeting. And then she launched into an account of the meeting that happened at the base between her, Harrington, SGC, and the SEALs, the gathering at the Wheelus Air Base in Libya, the points they discussed there, and the revelations that came to light about the alliance between the Wraith and the Goa'uld agents.

The voice was quiet for a long time before it answered. "Are you quite sure of this, Agent? They have seen our involvement at the Detention facility?"

"Yes, I am. I'd advise you to take precautions if you are going to conduct further operations in this manner. I'm certain they will be able to track your transporter movements. The scientists they have at the SGC seem very competent," she answered truthfully.

"Very well." said the voice, with grim finality.

"Now, this is your next task. Send the personal files of the members of the SEAL team who were involved in this meeting. We need to deal with this before things get out of hand - well - even more out of hand. Do you understand?" the voice asked with emphasis.

Rollins felt sweat running down her spine despite the shower she had just taken only a few minutes ago. Giving them verbal reports once or twice in a while was one thing, but sending highly classified personal files was something else entirely. But she knew that refusing was not an option, not if she wanted to keep her career or her life for that matter.

"Yes, I do." She answered the only way she could.

"Make sure we receive it all by the end of the month. You do not need to send them all at once. Take steps to cover your tracks. But make sure we have what we need by the deadline." The voice cut off abruptly, just the way it always did after it finished giving orders.

She stared at her now empty laptop screen for a few moments, trying to wrap her mind around the conversation she'd just had. Not for the first time, she regretted the circumstances that led her to accept this arrangement. Having a fat retirement fund to return to when she finally took her early retirement from the navy after putting the minimum years in, was a nice feeling. But she certainly couldn't enjoy it from a military prison or an early grave.

She shook her head and switched her laptop off. It was too late to do anything now. She had to concentrate on planning how to get around various security restrictions and get her hands on the files that were requested by her beneficiaries. She needed someone from the Human Resources Administration for this, didn't she? Then she felt a small smile creeping up on her lips - She knew exactly the person she could easily persuade into letting her take a glimpse of such things! Feeling quite satisfied and making further plans for her treasonous mission, she decided she was hungry enough and started to get dressed to go out in search of a proper dinner.

Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain - Colorado

Embarkation Room

(Four weeks later)

"I know you said renaissance age, but what does that mean, exactly?" Danny asked as he adjusted the strap of his MP7.

Everyone in SGC was issued FN P90 Personal Defense weapons. But the SEALs were partial to their own submachine guns and other weapons. The first thing they'd done when they began the training, was to raid the armory in the SGC to make sure they had those specific weapons and ammo they needed. The Master Sergeant in charge of the armory had gleefully sent out requests for the Navy to re-supply them with the standard weapons and kits for the Special Operators. The Navy had reluctantly given in, needing to keep up their standards.

"Like you just stepped into a Rome-Egypt hybrid planet in the 14th century," Bates replied with a grimace. He was not a fan of the planet. He had been on one of the Gate teams who had visited the planet before it was reformed by the SG-1. He hadn't been impressed.

"Hey, it's a nice enough planet,” Major Evan Lorne interjected. “Well, they were a bit uptight before, but then SG-1 sorted them out. They are good people now, took on refugees from Nasya and everything. It's safe enough for first-time planet hoppers. Besides, they are having their harvest celebrations this time of the year. Food, drinks, and merry people all around. And we have a standing invitation every year for the party," Lorne had visited the planet two years ago for his first 'travel through the Gate' experience and it had been a blast. He was very much looking forward to an encore.

"So, what do we do there?" This was from Higgins.

"Nothing much. We go and say 'hi' to the leaders, go to a party or two and come back home," answered Cadman. She had heard good stuff from Lorne and was looking forward to the experience as well. It would be nice for once, just to go to a planet and join a celebration, just enjoy the visit other than fighting or running for their lives, for a change.

"Nice," Higgins agreed.

The Stargate Command's newest addition - or the newly re-arranged SG-11, was waiting to go on their first extra-planetary mission. Four weeks had passed since Colonel Sumner initiated the first-ever SGC team combined with the SEALs and the CIA agents. They had all been heavily involved in training for all sorts of scenarios they could think of since then. Their days had been full of weapons, physical, tactics training, going through all available information about galaxy's bad guys, and then a couple of weeks spent in earth's Alpha site for field training. Sheppard and Lorne had had to beam down to Antarctica in between for projects at the Outpost and then visit Peterson Base a few times to keep up their flight qualifications. Altogether, those six weeks had been hectic and they were all looking forward to this outing. Listening to Lorne and everyone else who had already been to planet Gemmond painting a merry picture of their culture, had them all eager for the visit. The Wraith and the Goa'uld had been silent and hadn't made any noteworthy moves so far. They all knew that when they finally did, SG-11 needed to be ready to move. This trip to Gemmond for their harvesting celebrations was sort of a break before they had to go to war, so to speak.

"Dialing the gate now." Sergeant Harriman's voice could be heard over the speakers. He had started the dialing sequence for the planet designated P3X-422, aka Gemmond.

"Chevron One encoded,"

"Chevron Two encoded,"

"Chevron Three encoded,"

"Chevron Four... not encoded."

That was not the usual script during a dial-out. Sheppard exchanged a glance with Steve and turned back to look up at the dialing station. They were all waiting in front of the ramp while Harriman dialed. The day's duty officer-in-charge, an Air Force Colonel called Dixon, was standing behind the station where Harriman was sitting. He was also frowning at the diversion from the norm.

"What's happening, Sergeant?" They could all hear the Colonel asking Harriman over the speakers.

"Sir, the gate is not connecting. It's almost as if someone from that side is already dialing. You know, it's like, we're getting the 'line busy' tone," Sergeant Harriman guessed.

"That doesn't make sense. They know we're visiting them today. They usually like it when we visit," said Colonel Dixon, his frown deepening as he glared at the dialer. Then he looked over the see-through window to stare at the group waiting to go off-world. He grimaced as if SG-11 personally had something to do with the Gate refusing to connect.

Colonel Garry Dixon wasn't a big fan of the newly initiated team. His personal opinion was that the lot of them were too arrogant and cocky for their own good. And he hadn't really tried very hard to keep his opinions to himself. But SG-11 didn't let it bother them. They hardly needed validation from the opinionated Colonel. The man had only earned his stripes just by spending the required years in service without a single active combat tour under his belt. He had somehow landed his position as head of Public Relations for SGC, mostly thanks to his political connections.

"Well, dial again," said Dixon after a pause. The Sergeant did as ordered.

"Nope, still not connecting," Harriman said after the third failed attempt. The fourth Chevron refused to connect and the Stargate stubbornly stayed dormant.

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Something's not right," Bates muttered, shaking his head.

Sheppard stared at the Gate, thoughtfully. He could feel it in his mind. The Gate was trying to establish a connection with the input destination. He knew that Walter had guessed correctly; something was blocking the connection from the other side. Moreover, he could feel the Gate trying to force the connection, but not succeeding because something was lacking from SGC's side. It gave John an uneasy, itchy feeling in the back of his mind - like a puzzle piece that's been forced to fit into a place that it didn't quite belong. It gave him an idea.

"Sir, permission to take the Puddle Jumper on this visit?" Sheppard addressed the Colonel.

They had only just found this super-cool, little spacecraft back in Antarctica a week ago, and John had felt like he had been given a gift. He had been on the Chair running a diagnostic on weapons systems when the link had guided him towards one of the storage areas that was recently uncovered to show him the ship. He had finished the routine quickly and taken off towards his prize, with the mental connection in his mind laughing softly at his eagerness. He and Rodney had spent two days going through the ship top to bottom and declared it safe for flights. He had taken the newly named 'Puddle Jumper' (Rodney had insisted on calling it ‘Gateship,’ but John had exercised his veto power as the pilot and put a firm stop to that nonsense) on a few rides and returned with it back to the Mountain at O'Neill's orders. Jack O'Neill had promptly jumped in with Jackson, Carter, and Mitchell in tow, and taken it on a tour to space. He had returned after a few hours with all of them grinning like kids on Christmas, and then given his official stamp to put the Jumper on active service.

"What can you possibly do with the Jumper, Sheppard? We can't dial. The damned line is busy," said the Colonel, starting to lose his patience.

Sheppard mentally rolled his eyes. He knew that Dixon was quite skeptical when it came to believing in Sheppard's affinity for all things Ancient.

"I know that, Sir. But I also know that the Jumper's got a DHD in it, an Alteran designed. As advanced as our dialer is, it's still primitive compared to the real thing,” he replied. “And when there's the real thing, there's a chance that I could do something with it," he put on his most innocent expression and stared expectantly at the Colonel.

John could see Danny openly rolling his eyes and Steve trying hard to hide a snort. Bates was staring stoically ahead, staying away from the officer's spats. Agents Kalakaua and Noshimuri were staring at the Gate serenely, not letting this petty nonsense bother them. Cadman and Higgins were grinning ear to ear, watching the drama unfold. Lorne and Vega were doing the same as Cadman and Higgins, but they were carefully hiding their grins behind blank masks.

"So sure of yourself, Major?" asked Dixon, not bothering to hide his disdain.

It was obvious that he didn't believe for a second that Sheppard could do anything about the situation. The Ring was busy on the other side - there was not a damn thing they could do from this side until it closed, period.

"I don't see any harm in trying," Sheppard drawled with a shrug.

The Colonel looked for a moment like he wanted to refuse. Then he seemed to realize that it would be more fun to let John try and then berate him afterward when he inevitably failed.

"Fine then, knock yourself out. Just don't break the Stargate or the Jumper, Major." Dixon gestured grandly for them to get on with it.

...........

The team reached the next level where the Jumper was parked. The floor of the level had a trap door that could be remotely opened to let the jumper fly vertically down until it came face to face with the Stargate.

They all got themselves situated comfortably inside the craft. Sheppard took the pilot seat with Major Lorne as the co-pilot at his side. Lorne hadn't had the chance to take it out for a spin yet and Sheppard wanted him to familiarize himself with the controls during the flight. Steve and Danny took seats behind them in the cockpit. The rest of the team made themselves at home in the back where there was plenty of space for them and the equipment they carried.

"So, you think you can force a dial-in?" Lorne asked while he watched Sheppard going through the pre-flight.

"I don't know yet, Lorne. It's not like I've tried it before," said Sheppard with a crooked grin, not bothering to look up from what he was doing.

"Well, you sounded awfully sure back there," said Lorne.

"Let's just say, I have a feeling." Then he turned to look at Lorne and give him an impish grin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

"Ah, Jesus! Please tell me it's not going to be like the time when we were doing that thing in Baghdad... Please! I'm begging you," Danny implored. His eyes had gone wide with what looked like genuine fear.

"Fucking hell, Danny, you had to bring that up," said Steve, trying to hide his fear behind annoyance.

"McGarrett, tell me that is not the case now - cos man, I'm gonna climb outta this tin-can right now." Higgins was already halfway up from his seat and looking furtively at the back door of the Jumper.

"Come on guys, relax. I'm pretty sure I know what I’m doing." Sheppard had finished checking on the flight controls in front of him and was now fiddling with the switches directly above him. He looked completely at ease, in direct contrast to the mounting fear in the atmosphere inside the craft.

"What happened in Baghdad?" Bates piped up from the cargo bay, stoic demeanor forgotten as his curiosity was piqued.

"Don't ask man. Just. Don't..." Higgins was shaking his head from where he was inspecting what looked like an electronic keypad with door controls.

"Oh come on, you can't just say things like that and expect us to let it go. Now you've got us all intrigued and shit," Vega cajoled.

"She's right brah, you gotta spill," Kono seconded. They were all getting increasingly curious as to what could possibly have these badass SEALs shaking in their metaphorical boots.

"Okay, people calm down. If we make it through this mission in one piece, I'll get drunk and tell you all about it - there’s no way in hell I'm going to talk about that shit while I'm sober," Danny promised the group, visibly collecting himself and.

"Stop exaggerating, Williams, it wasn't that bad. Got you all out of there, didn't I?" Sheppard defended himself with a full-blown, mischievous grin. Whatever he'd done, John was enjoying the memory, Lorne could tell.

"I was never the same again, man - none of us were - for a long time," Danny said petulantly. Steve nodded his agreement.

Sheppard finished off his flight checks with a chuckle and gently guided the Jumper above the opening on the floor. The technician outside opened the trap door, obeying Sheppard's signal. The little craft descended smoothly and came to a stop in front of the dormant Stargate, hovering just above the ramp.

..........

Sheppard dialed the address of the planet Gemmond on the Jumper's DHD. He could feel the connection failure even as he dialed due to the disturbance from the planet. He concentrated. He could feel the Jumper in his mind, wanting to co-operate eagerly.

'The Astria Porta is open on the other side. Is it imperative that we gain entrance to this specific planet, at this time?' John knew the inquiries that appeared in his mind were unmistakably Alteran, but he had no difficulty understanding what was being asked.

'Yes,' John thought confidently.

'Please enable the emergency override.' Another smaller, Ancient equivalent of a keypad appeared from the side of the DHD where John's palm was resting. He replaced his palm on the new sub-dialer, thinking 'Override.’

The new keyboard went back inside the DHD and John removed his hand to place it back on flight controls. The DHD started dialing the Gate address by itself and then dialed another sequence at the end. The Stargate in front of them came to life and the Chevrons started locking at double their usual speed. When the seventh and the final Chevron locked, the wormhole burst into life with a swoosh and stabilized with a splat. Then it waited patiently for the Jumper to fly through the gently rippling, blue surface.

The team chuckled, hooted, laughed, and whistled their praises.

John tapped his ear and activated the comms. "Sheppard to Control. Permission to visit Gemmond, Sir." He waited for the 'Go' order from the Colonel.

"Permission granted, Major." They all clearly heard the sour note in the Colonel’s voice, but they refrained from commenting, wanting to get going without any more delays on their first mission as a team.

[trash-writes]

hey darl, since you opened the requests i'd love to make one! a little fic where jon is just constantly bumping into this one gal in the library to the point they worked up a routine and basically come there every week, same hour, both of them really not coming to read anymore but just to meet up and talk, and jonathan working up the courage to finally ask her on a real date? i'm so sorry if this doesn't make sense, i seem to have lost the ability to form coherent sentences lmao

It’s totally fine and thank you so much for being my first request! I hope you like it and don’t mind that I didn’t do reader insert since I’m not good at those. Enjoy!

It’s well known that the Gotham City library is home to thousands of books on thousands of subjects, so it isn’t unusual for a gothamite to come across a rogue or two while browsing for a new book to read. Of course nobody ever really does anything out of fear of being attacked or pursued by said rogue, and so the library at some point became a sort of neutral ground between the civilians and the villains (cops not included).

----

It started with a book.

All Jonathan wanted to do was find something new to read since his collection at the hideout was getting boring. While it was normal for his acquaintances to be approached in one way or another by civilians, people tended to steer clear of him, and he honestly couldn’t have it any other way. Of course, all good things have to come to an end at some point or another, and for him, it consisted of a four hundred page copy of Rebecca to be dropped just inches away from hitting him.

“I’m so sorry! Oh my god, are you alright? Did I hit you?” A female voice came from the other side of the bookshelf as a hazel eye peered at him through the small gap between two books before vanishing. He could hear said person scrambling to get down from whatever they were standing on as they obviously began to rush over to his side of the bookshelf, presumably to apologize once more and retrieve the book that they had just almost dropped on him. Within moments he was staring down at the woman’s curly mop of hair while she picked up the book, still apologizing. “I’m so so so sorry! I swear, being short is a curse considering the fact that they seem to put all of the good books on the top of the shelf! Are you alright? Did I hit you? Wait I already asked that-” She cut herself off when she stood back up and looked up at Jonathan with crooked glasses, “oh, you’re Dr. Crane!”

He gave a small smile (that he quickly got rid of) when she addressed him by his title instead of his villain name, and upon noticing what book she had picked up he decided to respond instead of just walking away like how he originally intended. “Yes, I am. Might I ask who you are?” 

This seemed to make her somewhat happy considering the fact that she smiled while fixing her glasses. “I go by Kat, with a ‘k’ of course because apparently everything has to be spelled weirdly for some reason, it actually started as just a nickname from one of my friends. I don’t really know why they began calling me that seeing how my name had no ‘kat’ in it and I honestly think that they just started calling me that to see how long it would take for me to correct them, which I obviously haven’t done yet considering the fact that I actually changed my name to...Oh sorry! I’m rambling aren’t I?” The woman who he now knew went by ‘Kat’ glanced up at the clock on the wall before looking around and grabbing a book off of the shelf, thrusting it into his hands before rushing off. “Sorry, If I don’t hurry I might miss my bus! I recommend this though! Most people think that it’s just for kids but it’s still really good. Have a nice day!” 

With that, she was gone and Jonathan Crane was left with a copy of Coraline in his hands. Raising an eyebrow, he read the flap copy before shrugging and continuing his search for more books, keeping the one that she gave to him as he went to leave.

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

It didn’t take long for Jonathan to finish his stack of books, and so he returned to the library the following week to get more. He would never admit to anyone that he read the book that the woman from last week (Kat, he remembered) gave him, and he would also never admit that he found it interesting. 

That promise to himself went out the window the moment he bumped into her, well, more like almost tripped over her considering the fact that she was seated on the floor while looking at the books on the very bottom of the shelf.

“I’m so sorry! Are you alri-Oh it’s you! How are you? Did you like the book? I know a lot of people say that it’s just for kids but I think it’s really good and I thought that maybe you might like it, of course everyone has different tastes when it comes to books so may-Sorry, I’m rambling again.”

To be honest, Jonathan didn’t mind the rambling, in fact, he found it a little cute, but that was something that he would never tell anybody. “No no, it’s fine. The book was good and I really liked the ide-are those….pumpkins on your glasses chain?” He asked, leaning forward a tad bit to get a closer look and he was in fact correct. Kat had little jack-o-lanterns on her glasses chain. How cute.

“Oh....well….yes. My other chain broke last week after it got caught on something on the bus. I don’t really wear this one unless it’s September or October but I couldn’t find any of my other chains and so I decided to just go ahead and use this one. Besides, who doesn’t like Halloween?” Her eyes widened once she remembered who she was talking to and she began to fiddle with the book that she had in her hands, opening and closing it nervously.

Chuckling at her nervous behavior, Jonathan held a book out to her. “Relax. I don’t intend to cause any trouble today, and yes, Halloween is nice. By the way, I recommend this to read.” 

With a smile, Kat took the book and thanked him before gesturing to a small and slightly hidden reading area. “Care to join me Dr. Crane? It’s fine if you don’t want to, I just thought that maybe since I don’t actually have anywhere to be this time that mayb-”

“I’d love to.”

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

This went on for a while, the two of them meeting up at the library to exchange book recommendations and sometimes read together, and as time went on they began to read less and talk more. Over time Jonathan began to learn small things about Kat, like how she was a student at Gotham University (“You know I used to teach there.”), how she was currently getting her masters in professional writing, and her love for rats (which he only found out about when she brought a small bag that she revealed to have her pet rat in).

It didn’t take long for Jonathan to realize that he was slowly falling in love with Kat. He couldn’t ignore the way his heart sped up whenever she suggested that they go sit, or how it jumped whenever her hand brushed against his when she pointed to something that she found exciting. Eventually, he found himself talking about her to Edward, who would just get annoyed and say that he should just ask her out. 

The idea of asking Kat out was one of the few things that made him worry. What if she rejected him or only thought of him as a friend? He couldn’t possibly live with just being her friend. She was his Mistress of Fear! He needed her! It took a lot of convincing from Edward, but he eventually decided that he would ask her out the next time that they meet up.

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

Sitting in his usual seat at the library, Jonathan looked at the clock on the wall every so often while he waited for Kat to show up. 

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and eventually thirty as he waited nervously. What if she decided that she didn’t want to associate with him anymore due to his status as a villain? It hadn’t been an issue before but maybe something happened that changed her mind? Thankfully his worries were put to rest when he noticed her walk up and sit in her usual seat next to him.

“I’m so sorry I’m late Jonathan! I had to go to the bank to straighten some things out with my account and I got caught up in a robbery because apparently everyone thinks that they can rob a bank, then my bus got stuck in a traffic jam because Poison Ivy apparently escaped today and so the GCPD were checking every vehicle to make sure that she wasn’t hiding in one, which honestly I think is kind of stupid because why would she hide in some random person's car or on the bus when she hates people so much? It’s much more logical that she would immediat-Oh I’m rambling again, aren’t I?” Kat stopped talking and reached into her bag to pull out the book that Jonathan had earlier lent her from his personal collection and held it out to him, “thank you for letting me borrow this!”

With a smile he took the book and sat it on the small table between him, “it’s no problem Kat, I was honestly surprised that you had never read this one before considering the fact that it’s so popular with fans of the horror genre. By the way, I have a quick question for you.” This was it, this was the moment where he would ask her out. There was no backing out of this now.

“Would you want to go to dinner sometime?”

“Do you want to go out for coffee?”

Jonathan looked at Kat with wide eyes, who in turn was looking at him with equally wide eyes.

“Did you just-”

“Are you-”

Kat covered her mouth and nodded eagerly before lowering her hand and grinning. “We both had the same idea, didn’t we?”

“More or less.”

[cheese-greater-official]

The Great Gatsby .. I think antibucci Summary: Literally just the great Gatsby. Nothing else here. Absolutely no changes. Definitely use this for class, or reference. The Great Gatsby is public domain now after all. Anyways here's the totally unaltered and complete book of the Great Gatsby. I swear nothing was changed, most definitely. Of course credit to F Scott Fitzgerald for writing this commentary on both his life and the world he was in. A lot of this can still relate today, so keep an open mind when reading. Notes: I'd like to preface this by saying... This is really I mean REALLY just the Great Gatsby. I swear. There is nothing going here that is out of the ordinary! Nothing at all! Chapter 1 Chapter Text Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry “Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!” - Thomas Parke D'Invilliers. In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.” He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought — frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth. And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction — Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament.”— it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No — Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men. My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the

wholesale hardware business that my father carries on to-day. I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him — with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe — so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why — ye — es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two. The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog — at least I had him for a few days until he ran away — and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove. It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road. “How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly. I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighborhood. And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees—just as things grow in fast movies—I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the "Yale News"—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the "well-rounded man." This isn't just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all. It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western Hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size. I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented

rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby's mansion. Or rather, as I didn't know Mr. Gatsby it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eye-sore, but it was a small eye-sore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbor's lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month. Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed and I'd known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago. Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he'd left Chicago and come east in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance he'd brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that. Why they came east I don't know. They had spent a year in France, for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn't believe it—I had no sight into Daisy's heart but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking a little wistfully for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game. And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red and white Georgian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold, and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch. He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy, straw haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining, arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body. His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts. "Now, don't think my opinion on these matters is final," he seemed to say, "just because I'm stronger and more of a man than you are." We were in the same Senior Society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own. We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch. "I've got a nice place here," he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly. Turning me around by one arm

he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep pungent roses and a snub-nosed motor boat that bumped the tide off shore. "It belonged to Demaine the oil man." He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. "We'll go inside." We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling—and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea. The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor. The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless and with her chin raised a little as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in. The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room. "I'm p-paralyzed with happiness." She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I've heard it said that Daisy's murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.) At any rate Miss Baker's lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me. I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth—but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered "Listen," a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour. I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way east and how a dozen people had sent their love through me. "Do they miss me?" she cried ecstatically. "The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath and there's a persistent wail all night along the North Shore." "How gorgeous! Let's go back, Tom. Tomorrow!" Then she added irrelevantly, "You ought to see the baby." "I'd like to." "She's asleep. She's two years old. Haven't you ever seen her?" "Never." "Well, you ought to see her. She's—" Tom Buchanan who had been hovering restlessly about the room stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder. "What you doing, Nick

?" "I'm a bond man." "Who with?" I told him. "Never heard of them," he remarked decisively. This annoyed me. "You will," I answered shortly. "You will if you stay in the East." "Oh, I'll stay in the East, don't you worry," he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more. "I'd be a God Damned fool to live anywhere else." At this point Miss Baker said "Absolutely!" with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room. "I'm stiff," she complained, "I've been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember." "Don't look at me," Daisy retorted. "I've been trying to get you to New York all afternoon." "No, thanks," said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry, "I'm absolutely in training." Her host looked at her incredulously. "You are!" He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. "How you ever get anything done is beyond me." I looked at Miss Baker wondering what it was she "got done." I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before. "You live in West Egg," she remarked contemptuously. "I know somebody there." "I don't know a single—" "You must know Gatsby." "Gatsby?" demanded Daisy. "What Gatsby?" Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square. Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips the two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored porch open toward the sunset where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind. "Why candles?" objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. "In two weeks it'll be the longest day in the year." She looked at us all radiantly. "Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it." "We ought to plan something," yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed. "All right," said Daisy. "What'll we plan?" She turned to me helplessly. "What do people plan?" Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger. "Look!" she complained. "I hurt it." We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue. "You did it, Tom," she said accusingly. "I know you didn't mean to but you did do it. That's what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great big hulking physical specimen of a—" "I hate that word hulking," objected Tom crossly, "even in kidding." "Hulking," insisted Daisy. Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here—and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself. "You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy," I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. "Can't you talk about crops or something?" I meant nothing in particular by this remark but it was taken up in an unexpected way. "Civilization's going to pieces," broke out Tom violently. "I've gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read 'The

Rise of the Coloured Empires' by this man Goddard?" "Why, no," I answered, rather surprised by his tone. "Well, it's a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don't look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It's all scientific stuff; it's been proved." "Tom's getting very profound," said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. "He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—" "Well, these books are all scientific," insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. "This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It's up to us who are the dominant race to watch out or these other races will have control of things." "We've got to beat them down," whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun. "You ought to live in California—" began Miss Baker but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair. "This idea is that we're Nordics. I am, and you are and you are and—" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod and she winked at me again. "—and we've produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art and all that. Do you see?" There was something pathetic in his concentration as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned toward me. "I'll tell you a family secret," she whispered enthusiastically. "It's about the butler's nose. Do you want to hear about the butler's nose?" "That's why I came over tonight." "Well, he wasn't always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night until finally it began to affect his nose—" "Things went from bad to worse," suggested Miss Baker. "Yes. Things went from bad to worse until finally he had to give up his position." For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk. The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom's ear whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing. "I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?" She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation. "An absolute rose?" This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing but a stirring warmth flowed from her as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house. Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said "Sh!" in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond and Miss Baker leaned forward, unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether. "This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbor—" I said. "Don't talk. I want to hear what happens." "Is something happening?" I inquired innocently. "You mean to say you don't know?" said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. "I thought everybody knew." "I don't." "Why—" she said hesitantly, "Tom's got some woman in New York." "Got some woman?" I repeated blankly. Miss Baker nodded. "She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner-time. Don't you think?" Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots and Tom and Daisy were back at the table. "It couldn't be helped!" cried Daisy with tense gayety. She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me and continued: "I looked

outdoors for a minute and it's very romantic outdoors. There's a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He's singing away—" her voice sang "—It's romantic, isn't it, Tom?" "Very romantic," he said, and then miserably to me: "If it's light enough after dinner I want to take you down to the stables." The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at every one and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn't guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking but I doubt if even Miss Baker who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy skepticism was able utterly to put this fifth guest's shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police. The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee. Daisy took her face in her hands, as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl. "We don't know each other very well, Nick," she said suddenly. "Even if we are cousins. You didn't come to my wedding." "I wasn't back from the war." "That's true." She hesitated. "Well, I've had a very bad time, Nick, and I'm pretty cynical about everything." Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she didn't say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter. "I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything." "Oh, yes." She looked at me absently. "Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?" "Very much." "It'll show you how I've gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. 'All right,' I said, 'I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool—that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool." "You see I think everything's terrible anyhow," she went on in a convinced way. "Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I've been everywhere and seen everything and done everything." Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom's, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. "Sophisticated—God, I'm sophisticated!" The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged. Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the "Saturday Evening Post"—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamp-light, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms. When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand. "To be continued," she said, tossing the magazine on the table,

"in our very next issue." Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up. "Ten o'clock," she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. "Time for this good girl to go to bed." "Jordan's going to play in the tournament tomorrow," explained Daisy, "over at Westchester." "Oh,—you're Jordan Baker." I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago. "Good night," she said softly. "Wake me at eight, won't you." "If you'll get up." "I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon." "Of course you will," confirmed Daisy. "In fact I think I'll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I'll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—" "Good night," called Miss Baker from the stairs. "I haven't heard a word." "She's a nice girl," said Tom after a moment. "They oughtn't to let her run around the country this way." "Who oughtn't to?" inquired Daisy coldly. "Her family." "Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick's going to look after her, aren't you, Nick? She's going to spend lots of week-ends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her." Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence. "Is she from New York?" I asked quickly. "From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—" "Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?" demanded Tom suddenly. "Did I?" She looked at me. "I can't seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I'm sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—" "Don't believe everything you hear, Nick," he advised me. I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called "Wait! "I forgot to ask you something, and it's important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West." "That's right," corroborated Tom kindly. "We heard that you were engaged." "It's libel. I'm too poor." "But we heard it," insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. "We heard it from three people so it must be true." Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn't even vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one of the reasons I had come east. You can't stop going with an old friend on account of rumors and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumored into marriage. Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he "had some woman in New York" was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart. Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red gas-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud bright night with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight and turning my head to watch it I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbor's mansion and was standing with his hands in

his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens. I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn't call to him for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and far as I was from him I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness. Chapter 2 Summary: Just chapter 2 of the Great Gatsby Notes: (See the end of the chapter for notes.) Chapter Text About half way between West Egg and New York the motor-road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud which screens their obscure operations from your sight. But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to fatten his practice in the borough of Queens, and then sank down himself into eternal blindness or forgot them and moved away. But his eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days under sun and rain, brood on over the solemn dumping ground. The valley of ashes is bounded on one side by a small foul river, and when the drawbridge is up to let barges through, the passengers on waiting trains can stare at the dismal scene for as long as half an hour. There is always a halt there of at least a minute and it was because of this that I first met Tom Buchanan's mistress. The fact that he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known. His acquaintances resented the fact that he turned up in popular restaurants with her and, leaving her at a table, sauntered about, chatting with whomsoever he knew. Though I was curious to see her I had no desire to meet her—but I did. I went up to New York with Tom on the train one afternoon and when we stopped by the ashheaps he jumped to his feet and taking hold of my elbow literally forced me from the car. "We're getting off!" he insisted. "I want you to meet my girl." I think he'd tanked up a good deal at luncheon and his determination to have my company bordered on violence. The supercilious assumption was that on Sunday afternoon I had nothing better to do. I followed him over a low white-washed railroad fence and we walked back a hundred yards along the road under Doctor Eckleburg's persistent stare. The only building in sight was a small block of yellow brick sitting on the edge of the waste land, a sort of compact Main Street ministering to it and contiguous to absolutely nothing. One of the three shops it contained was for rent and another was an all-night restaurant approached by a trail of ashes; the third was a garage—Repairs. GEORGE B. WILSON. Cars Bought and Sold—and I followed Tom inside. The interior was unprosperous and bare; the only car visible was the dust-covered wreck of a Ford which crouched in a dim corner. It had occurred

to me that this shadow of a garage must be a blind and that sumptuous and romantic apartments were concealed overhead when the proprietor himself appeared in the door of an office, wiping his hands on a piece of waste. He was a blonde, spiritless man, anaemic, and faintly handsome. When he saw us a damp gleam of hope sprang into his light blue eyes. "Hello, Wilson, old man," said Tom, slapping him jovially on the shoulder. "How's business?" "I can't complain," answered Wilson unconvincingly. "When are you going to sell me that car?" "Next week; I've got my man working on it now." "Works pretty slow, don't he?" "No, he doesn't," said Tom coldly. "And if you feel that way about it, maybe I'd better sell it somewhere else after all." "I don't mean that," explained Wilson quickly. "I just meant—" His voice faded off and Tom glanced impatiently around the garage. Then I heard footsteps on a stairs and in a moment the thickish figure of a woman blocked out the light from the office door. She was in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can. Her face, above a spotted dress of dark blue crepe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering. She smiled slowly and walking through her husband as if he were a ghost shook hands with Tom, looking him flush in the eye. Then she wet her lips and without turning around spoke to her husband in a soft, coarse voice: "Get some chairs, why don't you, so somebody can sit down." "Oh, sure," agreed Wilson hurriedly and went toward the little office, mingling immediately with the cement color of the walls. A white ashen dust veiled his dark suit and his pale hair as it veiled everything in the vicinity—except his wife, who moved close to Tom. "I want to see you," said Tom intently. "Get on the next train." "All right." "I'll meet you by the news-stand on the lower level." She nodded and moved away from him just as George Wilson emerged with two chairs from his office door. We waited for her down the road and out of sight. It was a few days before the Fourth of July, and a grey, scrawny Italian child was setting torpedoes in a row along the railroad track. "Terrible place, isn't it," said Tom, exchanging a frown with Doctor Eckleburg. "Awful." "It does her good to get away." "Doesn't her husband object?" "Wilson? He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He's so dumb he doesn't know he's alive." So Tom Buchanan and his girl and I went up together to New York—or not quite together, for Mrs. Wilson sat discreetly in another car. Tom deferred that much to the sensibilities of those East Eggers who might be on the train. She had changed her dress to a brown figured muslin which stretched tight over her rather wide hips as Tom helped her to the platform in New York. At the news-stand she bought a copy of "Town Tattle" and a moving-picture magazine and, in the station drug store, some cold cream and a small flask of perfume. Upstairs, in the solemn echoing drive she let four taxi cabs drive away before she selected a new one, lavender-colored with grey upholstery, and in this we slid out from the mass of the station into the glowing sunshine. But immediately she turned sharply from the window and leaning forward tapped on the front glass. "I want to get one of those dogs," she said earnestly. "I want to get one for the apartment. They're nice to have—a dog." We backed up to a grey old man who bore an absurd resemblance to John D. Rockefeller. In a basket, swung from his neck, cowered a dozen very recent puppies of an indeterminate breed. "What kind are they?" asked Mrs. Wilson eagerly as he came to the taxi-window. "All kinds. What kind do you want, lady?" "I'd like to get one of those police dogs; I don't suppose you got that kind?" The man peered doubtfully into the basket, plunged in his hand and drew one up, wriggling, by the back of the neck. "That's no police dog," said Tom. "No, it's not exactly a police dog,"

" said the man with disappointment in his voice. "It's more of an airedale." He passed his hand over the brown wash-rag of a back. "Look at that coat. Some coat. That's a dog that'll never bother you with catching cold." "I think it's cute," said Mrs. Wilson enthusiastically. "How much is it?" "That dog?" He looked at it admiringly. "That dog will cost you ten dollars." The airedale—undoubtedly there was an airedale concerned in it somewhere though its feet were startlingly white—changed hands and settled down into Mrs. Wilson's lap, where she fondled the weather-proof coat with rapture. "Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked delicately. "That dog? That dog's a boy." "It's a bitch," said Tom decisively. "Here's your money. Go and buy ten more dogs with it." We drove over to Fifth Avenue, so warm and soft, almost pastoral, on the summer Sunday afternoon that I wouldn't have been surprised to see a great flock of white sheep turn the corner. "Hold on," I said, "I have to leave you here." "No, you don't," interposed Tom quickly. "Myrtle'll be hurt if you don't come up to the apartment. Won't you, Myrtle?" "Come on," she urged. "I'll telephone my sister Catherine. She's said to be very beautiful by people who ought to know." "Well, I'd like to, but—" We went on, cutting back again over the Park toward the West Hundreds. At 158th Street the cab stopped at one slice in a long white cake of apartment houses. Throwing a regal homecoming glance around the neighborhood, Mrs. Wilson gathered up her dog and her other purchases and went haughtily in. "I'm going to have the McKees come up," she announced as we rose in the elevator. "And of course I got to call up my sister, too." The apartment was on the top floor—a small living room, a small dining room, a small bedroom and a bath. The living room was crowded to the doors with a set of tapestried furniture entirely too large for it so that to move about was to stumble continually over scenes of ladies swinging in the gardens of Versailles. The only picture was an over-enlarged photograph, apparently a hen sitting on a blurred rock. Looked at from a distance however the hen resolved itself into a bonnet and the countenance of a stout old lady beamed down into the room. Several old copies of "Town Tattle" lay on the table together with a copy of "Simon Called Peter" and some of the small scandal magazines of Broadway. Mrs. Wilson was first concerned with the dog. A reluctant elevator boy went for a box full of straw and some milk to which he added on his own initiative a tin of large hard dog biscuits—one of which decomposed apathetically in the saucer of milk all afternoon. Meanwhile Tom brought out a bottle of whiskey from a locked bureau door. I have been drunk just twice in my life and the second time was that afternoon so everything that happened has a dim hazy cast over it although until after eight o'clock the apartment was full of cheerful sun. Sitting on Tom's lap Mrs. Wilson called up several people on the telephone; then there were no cigarettes and I went out to buy some at the drug store on the corner. When I came back they had disappeared so I sat down discreetly in the living room and read a chapter of "Simon Called Peter"—either it was terrible stuff or the whiskey distorted things because it didn't make any sense to me. Just as Tom and Myrtle—after the first drink Mrs. Wilson and I called each other by our first names—reappeared, company commenced to arrive at the apartment door. The sister, Catherine, was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty with a solid sticky bob of red hair and a complexion powdered milky white. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish angle but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old alignment gave a blurred air to her face. When she moved about there was an incessant clicking as innumerable pottery bracelets jingled up and down upon her arms. She came in with such a proprietary haste and looked around so possessively at the furniture that I wondered if she lived here. But when I asked her she laughed i

Feel free to delete the first one. I would do anything for you if post this. The Great Gatsby in all it’s glory

im aware i was probably supposed to read the whole thing to find out if you changed anything and tnhen find out you hadnt and id wasted an hour of my life but i am way too lazy to do that

[iamknicole]

Deja Vú (2)

Florian Munteanu/OC

Its probably pretty awful but it was stuck in my head 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

After two weeks with her nieces their mother had finally picked them up from Angel. She didn't offer an excuse or extend a thank you but Angel wasn't expecting one either. She still checked on them while they were home because she knew her brother would want her to.

After work Angel decided to go to the hookah bar down the street from her house to relax. Her another friends usually went their together but they were all working but she didn't mind going alone.

She looked around the room as she sat in a booth waiting for a waitress. The room was dimly lit which is why she chose to sit at a booth with a small hanging light over it. Moments later, a brown skin girl dressed in black short shorts and a fitted black tee came to her table placing the hookah on it. She put fresh cubes at the top then smiled.

"Here you go. Its jungle juice flavored, love."

Angel looked at her strangely and took the hose from her, "Um ... this isn't mine. I didn't order this."

The waitress smiled. "It was from another customer. He asked me to send it to you."

"Oh no thank you. I'm good."

"Uh, no, I think you should keep it. Its the guy on the couch over there," The waitress explained pointing discreetly in the direction.

Rolling her eyes, Angel looked at who was on the sofa. When she did she spotted the man she had bumped into weeks ago sitting wide legged with the hookah hose in his hand. She smiled and sat back in the booth.

"Can you do me a favor and take it over to sit on his table? I'm gonna sit with him."

The waitress nodded waiting for Angel to get up and follow her. When she got to the table she sat beside him, turning her body sideways so she could look at him.

"Jungle juice?"

He laughed taking a pull from the hose.

"Seemed fitting. It got you here, didn't it?"

"I guess it did," she hummed picking up her own hose, "Why is it fitting?"

"Closest thing to jungle fever, no?"

Angel laughed for the first time in a while. She shook her head taking a pull.

"What do you think?" He asked watchign her facial expressions.

"Minty and fruity. I like it."

He nodded. "I have good taste. Looks like you do as well."

The two sat for another two hours talking about nothing in particular. They'd gone through four refreshers before Angel's phone vibrated on the table. She saw her nieces' picture pop up and answered putting her hand over her other ear.

"What's up, Nyla?" She asked quickly.

"Auntie, come get us, please."

"Why? Whats wrong?"

"Mama not here and her boyfriend got people in the house. They doin drugs, Auntie. I had to lock us in Nia's room."

Angel took a deep breath before answering. "Alright, I'm on my way. Stay in the room till I get there."

When they hung up, Angel looked over and started to call his name realizing she didn't know what it was.

"We've been sitting here and I don't even know you're name."

He leaned in close so she could hear him, "Florian."

She smiled and stuck her hand out to him which he took. His hand swallowed hers. "Well, Florian, I'm Angel."

"Hmm.... Angel? Never thought I'd see on walk the earth." He responded cooly slowly letting her hand fall from his.

"Cute," she laughed, "But I need to go, my nieces need me. "

Florian flagged the waitress down, "Give me a second to pay. I'll go with you."

"You don't gotta do that, Florian. I assume you were just apologizing for bumping me. All is forgiven."

After handing the waitress two hundred dollar bills, he laughed under his breath and stood up. He offered his hand to her which she took.

"Not what I was doing. Sounded like you were upset, I want to make sure all is okay."

Figuring that arguing wouldn't work, Angel followed him outside. He walked her to her car then told her to follow him to his building so he could drop his car off.

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"Your nieces okay?" He asked fifteen minutes into their drive.

"As long as they're in their room, they are."

"Is there a problem where they live?"

Angel nodded turning into the neighborhood. "Yeah, their mama got shit for brains."

Florian laughed at the tone of her voice. He understood the seriousness but to hear her so upset was sort of amusing to him after she'd been so happy and carefree at the bar.

"Something funny?"

"Yeah, the way you said that. You sound pissed."

"Cause I am," she snorted. "Stop making me wanna laugh."

When they pulled up to the house, Angel parked across the street and killed her engine. She saw the cars parked in front of the house and shook her head.

"You mind coming in with me to get them?"

Florian shook his head and started to get out, "Not at all. Come on."

The door was unlocked when they got to the porch so they walked on in. Florian walked closely behind her looking around the small house. Angel went straight to the living room she spotted 6 men and 2 women sitting around it.

"Chanda know you doin this shit in her house, Rod?" Angel asked loudly.

Rod jumped then scoffed when he realized who it was. "Man, gone somewhere with all that. Take ya bougie ass on."

"Yeah, after I get my nieces I will. I don't know why she let your dumbass have a key anyway." Angel fussed turning to leave the living room.

"I don't know why she gave you a key either, bitch. Airways messing shit up."

Angel started to turn around but Florian stopped her telling her to grab her nieces. She knocked softly on the bedroom door then called their names softly promoting them to open the door.

"Come on. We leaving, yall. Yall got what yall need?"

Nyla grabbed both their bookbags then her little sister's hand and walked out the bedroom. Shaking her head, Angel followed them down the short hallway and found Rod pinned against the wall by Florian. She gave Nylah the keys telling her to go get in her sub then rushed to Florian pulling his arm to no avail.

"Let him go. Its okay."

"Its not," he said simply, "Apologize to her."

Rod stuttered out an apology prompting Florian to let him go. Nodding, Angel pulled her new friend out of her sister's house to the suv.

"Girls, this is Florian. Florian, these are my nieces, Nia and Nylah." Angel said pulling off from the house. "We're gonna take him home then get food. Okay?"

Florian turned in his seat to smile at them. "Nice to meet you, girls."

"You our uncle? We never had one and we want one." Nia said smiling.

Angel sucked her teeth, "Nia, hush. That's not your business."

"Correction," Nyla added, "You never had a uncle, Nia. I did. But Auntie said he wasn't shit so he had to go."

"Nyla! Watch your mouth!"

Florian laughed turning back around in his seat, "I like them. They're funny."

"We like you too, Uncle Flo!" Nia squealed. "You come over for dinner?"

"Sure, I'd love too."

Angel side eyed him as she drove, knowing this was another losing argument.

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After picking up some soul food, they all went back to Angel's house to eat. She sent her nieces upstairs to bathe and change before they ate leaving Florian and her in the kitchen. Her phone rung while she fixed their plates, she answered it putting it on speaker.

"What, Chanda?"

"You been to my house?"

Angel sucked her teeth. "You know good and damn well I've been there. What do you want?"

"I want you to stay the hell.outta my house when I'm not there. Every time Nyla lying ass call you, ya bougie ass come runnin. Aint shit happen."

Angel put down the spoon she was holding and stared at her phone. "She didn't say anything happened other than Rod had people over there with drugs so what are you talking about?"

Chanda paused for a second then spoke, "Oh well don't worry about that then. But you heard what I said stop running over here aint shit wrong with them. They just spoiled cause of you."

"My nieces aren't liars and I'm always gon pick them up when they ask. You need to worry about leaving them there with Rod ass." Angel fussed rolling her neck as if Chanda could see her.

Chanda sucked her teeth. "You know what since you think you know everything and you and ya stupid ass brother think you can raise them better than I can then you keep they asses. I aint want them no way, lyin ass lil children."

"Whatver, Chanda. Thats fine, they would rather be here anyway."

Angel hung up the phone without waitng for a response and put her face in her hands trying to calm herself down. Florian, who she'd forgotten about in the midst of the argument, came around the island and wrapped his arms around him to comfort her. He rocked them from side to side letting her cry on his chest.

"So we live here now?" Nia asked softly from the doorway.

Angel pulled away from the hug wiping her face and pushed her hair behind her ears. She went over to both of her nieces, who'd been standing there since the tail end of the conversation.

"Yeah, I guess yall do. Is that okay?" She asked both of them.

Nyla shrugged, "Took long enough. Been tryna move here for months."

Nia hugged her aunt's legs smiling. "I love it here! We get to live with you forever!"

Angel hugged her back laugjing softly, "What about when ya daddy comes back?"

"Then he can come live here!"

Nyla laughed going to sit to the table, "No, Daddy said we getting our own house plus Auntie and Uncle Flo need their space."

Nia pulled away from the hug and ran to the table to her sister.

"Space for what?"

"To make our cousins, duh, Nia."

Angel rolled her eyes playfully when she heard Florian laughing. "Okay, okay, lets eat and stop talking about cousins."

"But I can still be their uncle," Florian asked playfully as he walked over to the table to sit down.

[6ftslytherin]

Queer OC Questionnaire

Name: Sabine V. E. Lowell

1. What is your oc's identity?

Androgynous lesbian woman

2. When did they realize their identity?

In a way she's always known.

3. How did they feel when they found out?

(Trigger warnings: internalized homophobia and a suicide attempt)

Sabine had always felt like there was something different about her than the other girls. She never really understood how they could dream about getting married to a handsome gentleman. When she finally heard about other girls liking girls it was in a negative connotation. She hadn't thought that what she felt was bad but this was a respected adult saying it.

Her family being the famous Lowells taught her that one of the most important things that she could do was continue the bloodline by marrying a man and having children. When she asked about having children with a woman her grandfather Virgil laughed and told her it was ridiculous. She never brought the question up again.

Over the years the shame would build. It wasn't just her sexuality that made her feel bad. Her weird behavior caused her family to be ridiculed. She had indirectly killed her brother John. She was the cause of the argument that made Jacob leave. She wasn't feminine. Her parents deserved better. Being herself dishonored the Lowell name. She wasn't even sure if her parents actually loved her anymore.

She tried to be the best daughter she could be but she always felt bad about who she was. She couldn't even tell anyone because she didn't feel like her problems mattered compared to other's. Eventually all the shame and guilt built up which is when she decided to end things. She couldn't deal with the pain anymore.

She was fourteen when she stole a bottle of sleeping pills from a muggle pharmacy with the intent to take the entire thing. She decided on a date when the fewest people would be home and made peace with the people in her life. When the day came she wrote a note explaining everything and downed the bottle with a glass of wine. She became light headed and passed out a bit later.

She woke up in a bed at St. Mungo's. She didn't have the strength to argue when she was offered a spot in the pediatric section of Waterhouse Psychiatric Hospital and agreed.

4. How long did it take for them to accept themselves?

It wasn't until she was being treated in the psychiatric hospital that she began to let go of the guilt. Her parents hired a private psychiatrist to help them. The psychiatrist, Dean Garth, would help her and her family come to terms with their feelings.

She still sometimes has moments where she feels less than because of who she is. She now has technics and a stronger support system for those moments.

5. Are they open about their identity? Did they come out subtlety or dramatically?

She came out in her suicide note. She wasn't expecting to live so she didn't feel like it would be a big deal. When she woke up the day after she remembered the note and felt instant regret. When she had her first session with Dean she found out that her parents had read the note and given it to him. She felt deeply embarrassed about it.

After a few sessions with Dean he asked if she would be willing to have a session with her parents. She agreed. Sabine was surprised by how much her family really cared about her. They wanted to help her with her problems and felt like the worst parents in the world that Sabine thought the only way to stop the pain was to die. For the first time in years she cried in front of them. She no longer doubted she was loved.

She would slowly come out to her friends and extended family over the coming months.

She decided to be openly gay starting on September 1 1988.

6. What were the inital reactions of their friends and family?

Overall very positive. They were more concerned with Sabine's mental health at the time.

7. Did anyone know before they came out?

Her mother had an inkling by the time Sabine was 11. She thought she had a crush on Rowan. Her grandmother Colette knew by the time Sabine was 5. When asked to elaborate Colette responded with, "I just knew." Looking back on it, her grandmother had always been pro-LGBT. It turns out that Colette's uncle had been a closeted gay man that lived a double life until his death.

After she got out of the hospital she was hanging out with Rowan and told her. Turns out Rowan already knew. Not only that, but Rowan also liked girls and identified as a demigirl.

When she told Jacob his response was, "Yeah, no shit."

8. Was it a complete shock to some people?

Martinius Lowell, head of The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, a job that requires the ability to see minute details, had no idea.

Her oldest brother Sef came back from Switzerland to spend time with her. Turns out he wasn't aware either. He was embarrassed about never noticing.

One day when Marie was visiting Sabine in the hospital she told her cousin she liked girls. Marie responded by saying she also liked girls. That was when the girls realized they were both the gay cousin.

9. What has their love life been like?

There was a girl that went to the same ice rink as her when she was eight that made her feel strange. She loved watching her skate and talking to her. She wanted to say something to her. Then she remembered how her fellings were wrong. So she didn't say anything to her. She started avoiding her. Eventually her crush for the girl died off. They went to the beach when she was twelve and she saw an older girl she was unable to stop looking at.

Sabine joined the Slytherin quidditch team in her second year. There she met Skye Parkins. After months of training and playing together Sabine considered her a friend. Sometimes Penny Haywood would talk to Skye and make Sabine feel weird. For some reason she only wanted Skye to talk to her. After awhile she realized she was attracted to Skye. She felt awful for liking a girl again. She started to hang out with Skye less.

In the Summer of 1987 when Sabine was fourteen she met Yvonne Silverpot, a fifteen year old girl. She was doing some modeling work for Sabine's mother at the time and needed a place to stay. Yvonne took an interest in Sabine. She often asked Sabine to spend her free time with her, which she obliged.

Whenever Sabine or Yvonne were free they would be with each other, quickly becoming friends. One day Yvonne asked Sabine if she had ever kissed anyone before. She answered truthfully that no, she hadn't. Yvonne offered to be her first. This surprised Sabine. She tried to explain that girls aren't supposed to kiss other girls.

Yvonne closed her eyes and said, "I'm going to keep my eyes closed for five minutes. Kiss me if you want. I'd like it and I think you would too." Sabine fought against her instincts before she gave in and kissed her. Yvonne left a few days after that. Sabine knew she would probably never see her again.

It was late September when Sabine accidentally outed herself to Merula. She had felt so comfortable in the conversation they were having it had slipped out. It had clearly freaked Merula out. She didn't say anything. She just got up and left. Sabine sat there, marinating in her panic induced nausea. She closed her eyes and started to use deep breathing techniques.

Sabine could tell Merula was avoiding her. She wouldn't even look at her when they had potions class, even though they sat next to each other. In between classes Sabine asked Merula if they could talk in private. Merula agreed. Sabine asked her if she had told anyone, she hadn't. Sabine was relieved. She explained how she didn't want her to tell anyone. Merula agreed but stated it still made her uncomfortable. Sabine didn't like it but was glad she was being agreeable.

Weirdly Sabine and Merula started to get closer. Merula didn't seem capable of the venom she used to spew at Sabine. They even had a private sleepover to celebrate Merula's birthday, Sabine's roomates being gone due to Christmas. Merula had gotten comfortable enough to share a bed with her. Sabine had got to sleep happy that they had finally buried the hatchet.

That morning she woke up to an asleep Merula holding onto her. Sabine almost had a heart attack. That was when she had a thought; hold her back. She almost did. That was when she realized she once again had a crush. She would have to distance herself to keep her from getting hurt. She wasn't able to fall back asleep. When Merula woke up she apologized for holding her. Sabine said she didn't mind, even though she did. The day after she began to distance herself from Merula.

The problem with this being in the same house, having the same classes, and sitting at the same table. Merula often asked if Sabine wanted to hang out or study together. Everytime she would decline Sabine could see the hurt in Merula's eyes, even if she acted like it didn't bother her.

Then one day in spring Merula had enough. She challenged Sabine to a private duel at night. Sabine arrived at the location expecting an angry Merula ready to fight her. Instead Merula was quietly waiting for her. It was almost eerie. Sabine asked what was happening. Merula simply said, "Do you hate me?" Sabine would have been surprised by the boldness if it had been anyone else, she said no.

Merula then demanded to know why she was avoiding her. Sabine couldn't think of anything to say. How could she explain that she had developed feeling for her? Then something shocking happened, Merula hugged her. She said she wanted to be around her again. That it hurt not to be. Merula buried her face in Sabine's chest. She said, "I need you to stay in my life because your the only person that treats me like I'm worth a damn. I think I like you. And that terrifies me."

Sabine was in a daze. She liked her? Sabine was scared. She slowly moved her hand onto Merula's head. Sabine breathed in deep. She said everything she had been holding in her heart. She told her how special she felt Merula was. That was when a thought came to her. Sabine swallowed hard and said, "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Merula looked at Sabine. She said yes. The two of them started to cry out of happiness. It was almost bitter when they had to part. They agreed to meet up in Hogsmeade the week after, Sabine would come up with a date plan. They went back to the Slytherin common room while holding hands.

A month later Sabine asked if she could refer to Merula as her girlfriend. She agreed.

Strangely, Sabine's never been romantically attracted to Rowan. That was when Sabine realized she had a type. Tomboys.

How do they feel about their identity now?

Sabine is significantly happier since she was able to get the help she needed. She accepts the fact that she isn't going to magically wake up one day as a feminine heterosexual and she's glad she won't. Her family likes her girlfriend and she wouldn't want it any other way.

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