#the brain bees won’t shut up until I post my thoughts.

[ishedadordaddy]

Me: *reblogs my own post to make an addition to it.*

Tumblr: SOMEONE REBLOGGED YOUR POST!!!!!

Me: I know. It was me. I just barely hit post.

Tumblr:

[jackrrabbit]

practice makes perfect /// Mitsuri x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Hey! I read your Shinobu NSFW thing. I was wondering if you could write a Mitsuri NSFW thing but not as intense? Like Mitsuri and her female S/o are cuddling and things get a really steamy so they start kissing and fingering each other? Please and thank you!

A/N: REPOSTING because when I posted this a few hours ago it was glitching and not showing up in tags and stuff :( sorry to anyone who has already seen it!

I love Mitsuri and I get so few f/f reqs so ty for the request 💕 Y’all know idk how to write true vanilla so this is a little more spicy (Mitsuri and reader are not in an established relationship), but I made it soft just for you anon

Summary: When the most popular girl in school offers to help you practice kissing, it’s not like you’re going to say no.

Tags/warnings: inexperienced reader, femme preppy Mitsuri, she’s a little soft dom? like just a tiny bit, mild orgasm control, fluffy smut, crushes, modern high school AU, heteronormativity, reader thinks she’s straight lmao, all characters are adults

Okay, Mitsuri isn’t just the queen bee of your school. She’s also the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be possible for a person to be that beautiful, much less fair—what was god thinking when he gave her that pink and green hair that would look clownish on anyone but her? Those thick, dark eyelashes framing eyes you feel like you could drown in? Those long, perfect legs?

(Not that you stare at her legs or something. It’s just—your school uniform skirts are kind of short, and she always wears those striped thigh-highs, and she sits next to you in senior Biology and sometimes she stretches her legs out in the aisle between your desks and flexes them while she sighs during long lectures, and seriously, her legs are perfect.)

Mitsuri is the kind of girl who gets asked out by a different guy every other day. She has a fan club. Boys write Mr. _____ Kanroji in their notebooks, circle it with hearts, and fantasize about marrying her. She has more ex-boyfriends than you have Facebook friends. So you’re really sure why, somehow, you two have become…close?

If you have to, you can trace your friendship back to that Biology class. The teacher has a bad habit of cold-calling students for answers to questions, which makes him pretty unpopular. You’ve gotten used to it over the months, deciding that rebelling is a less productive method of dealing with it than just making sure to review the textbook chapters at least twice before every class, but apparently Mitsuri isn’t quite as familiar with the material.

When the teacher calls on her (a bit vindictively, you think, probably because she’s chewing pink bubblegum and drawing cherry blossoms in the composition book she’s supposed to be taking notes in) to ask her something about determining whether an organism’s life cycle exhibits zygotic, gametic, or sporic meiosis, she just gapes blankly back at him.

You feel sorry for her. It’s always painful to watch when someone can’t answer a question in class—you might be a fairly good student, but you still sympathize with how embarrassing it is to be put on the spot like that. The teacher refuses to move on, repeating her name and prodding her until her face is flushed bright pink and her lower lip is trembling. You’re not trying to pity her, but you can’t help it, and before you can think better of it you’re writing ‘compare diploid and haploid forms’ in the corner of your notebook and surreptitiously sliding it her way.

After the class, she pulls you aside in the hallway to thank you, eyes bright, telling you you’re so smart and kind and thoughtful and wondering how come she’s never talked to you before. “What a waste! We sat next to each other all semester, and I’m only getting to know you now.”

No wonder she’s popular. Her exuberance is infectious, like her good mood is seeping into your skin from her hand wrapped around yours. Mitsuri isn’t just pretty, she’s the kind of person who makes you feel good about herself just by being near her.

You’re about 100% sure that’s the last time the two of you will talk (unless she needs help with Bio homework and decides you’re the best candidate to get answers from). But it’s not. Mitsuri insists on treating you to boba after class—you try to deny her but she refuses to hear it and you can’t say no to her when she looks at you with those pretty jade-chip eyes. You get milk tea with black tapioca pearls swimming in caramelized fried sugar; her drink is jasmine rose fruit tea with tiny cubes of green apple floating at the top. “It looks like your hair,” you tell her, motioning toward the pink-and-green drink.

“Really?” Mitsuri’s cheeks turn red, which you notice is a frequent occurrence for her. “That’s why I got it. Isn’t it cute? I love how pretty all of the drinks are at this teahouse.”

The two of you split a little matcha cake. And then a vanilla taro cake. And then Mitsuri orders sweet potato fries and gyoza and fried chicken and shrimp tempura and wow, this girl can eat. “I kind of have a big appetite,” she tells you shyly some time around her fourth order of hanami dango. “Sorry, is it weird?”

“Not at all! It’s cute,” you blurt out, and then immediately cover your mouth. Cute? Where did that come from? That’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to be saying to a girl you barely even know, or is it? Maybe you’re overthinking this. Mitsuri is so beautiful it’s hard to think straight around her.

You’re so busy staring down at your lap and blushing that you don’t notice she’s doing the same thing.

Mitsuri seems to take that teashop date hangout as permission to pursue a full-fledged friendship with you. Before you know it, she’s inviting herself over to your house after school, dragging you to cafés and picnics to study together on the weekends, and begging you to sit with her at lunch. Her other friends don’t seem thrilled at your being her favorite new playmate, but she doesn’t mind it so you try not to, either.

Like right now. It’s a weekend, and she’s decided that her house is going to be the setting for an overnight Bio study session slash sleepover in anticipation of the test you have coming up. You’re scouring the textbook for an answer at her desk while Mitsuri lies on her stomach on her bed with her feet kicked up behind her and crossed at the ankles. Graded quizzes are spread out in an arc around her on the cotton candy-colored duvet, and the sparkly gel pen she’s using to write flash cards is poking out of the corner of her mouth. With her fair skin barely covered by a tank top and shorts, loose hair flowing over her back, and dark brows furrowed in concentration, she looks like the centerfold of a teen magazine from the 90s.

I bet guys have wet dreams about her, you think. Then you shut down that line of thinking, shut it all the way down because you’re not supposed to be thinking these things about a female friend, no matter how pretty she is or how glossy her lips look even though she’s just wearing chapstick or how good she smells (like strawberries? honey? or whatever sweet she ate last, you’re not sure). But you can’t quite tamp down the feeling that you’ve stumbled on some unbelievable luck to get close to her.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing on your studies. “I’m done with this!” Mitsuri exclaims, throwing down her pen so it makes a stray line on the quiz she was reviewing before it bounces off the bed. “I’m so tired of studying, aren’t you? If I learn another thing about cell division my brain is going to explode. Can’t we take a break?”

“Sure, if you want to get another 43%. Didn’t your dad say he’s going to stop paying your snack food fund if you fail one more exam?”

Her pink mouth drops open. “Hey! That’s not fair, I didn’t tell you that to use it against me. Be nice.”

But after a second, Mitsuri’s pout turns into a giggle. She hooks her foot around the stem of the office chair you’re sitting in and pulls it toward the bed along with you. “Come on! Let’s talk about love. Do you have a crush?”

You roll your eyes but relent, sliding off the chair and onto the big, fluffy bed next to Mitsuri. You can always get back to reviewing after you take a short break, right? She gathers up the quizzes and notecards and dumps them unceremoniously on the nightstand by her bed to make space for you, all too eager to stop thinking about Bio.

“I don’t have a crush,” you tell her.

“Really? There’s no one you think is cute? No one you want to get to know a little better?”

Well…if that’s what she means… You glance sideways at her. There’s definitely someone you think is cute who you want to get to know better. She doesn’t have to know it’s her—not that you have a crush on her; that would be ridiculous.

If she’s going to get that excited about your potential crush, how are you supposed to tell her you don’t have one? You’ll just have to pretend, for her sake. “I guess there’s someone. I wouldn’t call it love, but…”

Long black lashes flutter up at you as Mitsuri blinks. “Oh my gosh, who is it?”

“It’s a secret,” you say quickly.

“Aww, but I wanna know who you have a crush on!” She scooches closer to you and pokes you gently in the side. “Do I know him? Is he a senior? What does he look like? What do you like about him?”

“Um yeah, you know…him. He’s a senior but you’ll never—seriously never guess who it is, so don’t even try. He’s…really good-looking, I don’t know. He has nice hair…and, um, nice legs. And he…” you trail off, wondering what you can say about your secret ‘crush’ that won’t tip Mitsuri off that you’re talking about her.

“…I like him. He talks a lot but you can tell he cares about what you’re saying when he’s listening to you. He’s kind of dreamy and self-conscious about dumb things but it just makes me like him more.”

Was that too much? Mitsuri is looking into your eyes in pure rapture, holding onto every word you say. Are you being obvious? But—no way. She’s so loved by guys that she’d never even suspect that a girl could like her too.

Not that you like her. Not like that, at least.

After a moment when you feel your heart beating so deeply that you’re sure she can hear it too, she smiles sweetly and pinches your cheek. “You’re really pretty when you’re talking about your crush, (Y/N). You look like a maiden.”

You bite your lip, not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. If any other girl as beautiful as Mitsuri called you pretty, you’d think they were being insincere, but she’s not like that. Her genuine affection shines through in everything she does. If you’re pretty, she’s Helen of Troy.

“What do you mean, ‘a maiden’?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuri says, tracing invisible hearts into her bedspread with a fingertip. “You just look…innocent somehow? Like this is your first love.”

You duck down, blushing.

“Wait, really?” She sits up and easily flips you over onto your back (sometimes you forget that a decade of cheerleading has made her at least a dozen times as strong as you are) so she can blink brightly at you. “This is your first love? Ooh…”

“Is that so weird?” you ask a little defensively. “I don’t get a lot of crushes.”

“No, it’s not weird! It’s cute,” Mitsuri says. “But aren’t you nervous? What if you fall in love with him and you guys start dating and you don’t know how to do anything?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Like, kissing and stuff. Aren’t you worried that you’ll have your first kiss with him and he’ll be like, ‘oh my gosh, you can’t even kiss, I don’t like you anymore’.”

“No one would say that,” you reply, but the scenario does strike a pang of anxiousness in your heart. You’ve always been too focused on school and friends and family to bother worrying about love, but the truth is you have worried about the fact that you’re soon going to be a high school graduate who has never so much as kissed another person on the lips.

“You have no idea,” Mitsuri sighs. “Boys are so mean. But I can’t believe you haven’t had your first kiss!”

“That’s rude,” you say, wrinkling your nose.

She flaps her hands in the air frantically. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that! Sorry! I just meant I can’t believe you’ve never had a boyfriend when you’re so pretty and nice. The boy who locks you down is going to feel super lucky that he gets to take all of your firsts.”

You sit up next to Mitsuri and lean back on her cushioned headboard. “I don’t care about that. Honestly, I’d rather have some practice before I get involved with anyone.”

A beat passes. Then— “Really? You want practice?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess? But it’s not like I can just pick up some random guy and tell him to let me practice kissing.”

Mitsuri cocks her head to the side and long pink fringe falls away from her face. “You don’t need to do that. Just practice with me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” What, is she going to give you tips on tongue technique or something?

“…Like this,” Mitsuri says softly—and then her delicate hand is stroking up the side of your jaw and carding into your hair, tilting your head to face hers and pulling you closer. She hesitates before she makes contact, looking in your eyes as if to confirm are you okay with this? But (maybe because you’re caught off guard, maybe because you think you do need the practice, or maybe because that angelic strawberry-honey smell is way too intoxicating up close) you don’t stop her, and she leans in and completes the kiss.

It’s soft. Smells sweet. Tastes sweeter.

Mitsuri’s lips are velvety and glossy-damp moving against yours. The scent you thought was honey is really honeysuckle—there’s a fresh floral quality to the taste as her lip balm is transferred from her mouth to yours.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but by the time she lifts back from you your lips are tingling. You cover your mouth with your hand like a damsel from a Victorian-era novel and stare wide-eyed at her.

“How was that? Your first kiss?”

“I—um, I liked it I think?”

Mitsuri smiles at you and it’s like a ray of sunlight falling down through a break in the clouds. “Yay! I’m glad.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and you wonder what you’re supposed to do now. Go back to studying? You’re not sure you’re capable of that when you feel like she’s…still kissing you. It hasn’t quite hit you yet that this is your first kiss—something special, something you’ll never forget. The feeling of Mitsuri kissing you is going to be written on your heart for the rest of your life.

What have I done? you think, but it’s not condemnatory. It’s a question, maybe neutral, maybe hopeful.

“Come on, come here,” Mitsuri says. “You need a little more practice.”

And then she’s kissing you again, all the while pulling you closer, closer, into her lap. She breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur to you to open your mouth. When you do, her tongue slips in, prodding gently between your lips and sliding up against yours. It’s a weird feeling—you can’t say with certainty that it feels good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It feels like something you could get used to.

This kiss is longer and deeper, and Mitsuri is sighing into the place where your lips meet. The kissing sounds are both embarrassing and thrilling. You can hardly believe that you’re actually doing this, kissing Mitsuri Kanroji in her bedroom and sitting in her lap with your thighs hovering over hers because you’re scared to let yourself press any deeper into her.

By the fourth kiss, you think you’re getting the hang of this. Your fingers are laced in Mitsuri’s hair, pulling her bangs out of the way so you can see her face clearly. Her eyes are hazy and intense, a warm glow suffusing her cheeks, and her lips are reddened. The feeling of not knowing whether you like having her tongue in your mouth or not is gone. You like it. You want more of it. You could do this all day.

…But apparently Mitsuri has something else in mind. She moves back and looks at you like she’s got a secret she’s dying to tell you. Her hands slide up your thighs, almost reaching the hem of the skirt you’re wearing—it’s knee-length, comfortable and practical for the weather—but with your legs spread over hers, the fabric is bunched up at the juncture of your hips and legs, exposing your thighs to view. Mitsuri’s fingernails (manicured, short blunt French tips, pale pink with stripes of gold near the nail bed) scratch painlessly into your skin. “You learn really fast, (Y/N).”

“Thanks…” you pant out.

“Can I do a little more? Just a little. ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done this yourself—”

Oh. Oh? Mitsuri’s hand is creeping up under your skirt.

“—but it’s really good to have some experience with this, too, before you do anything with boys.”

She’s touching your pussy through your underwear. Those pretty manicured hands are stroking you through the fabric, fingertips sliding up between your lips with practiced precision. Oh god, can she feel how wet you are? You’ve felt that dewy heat growing at your core for a while, but you didn’t think she would touch you and feel it. “Mitsuri?”

“Are you already wet?” Two soft fingers pet your clit, moving over it side to side through your panties. “Did you get wet for me?”

“Mm—mm—Mitsuri…”

“Can I touch?” She pops her chin up and kisses you on the cheek, and then again on the other cheek, the side of your mouth, your forehead, all the while rubbing your pussy.

On the sixth teasing little kiss, you gasp and kiss her fully on the lips. “…okay?”

“Good…” Mitsuri smoothly pushes your ass up so she can hook fingers under the waistband of your panties and tug them down past your hips. You shift and let her do it—it feels like her touch is too hot, sending trails of warmth over every place where your skin meets. Her touch lingers even as you awkwardly straighten out of her lap for just as long as it takes to remove your panties and deposit them gracelessly on the floor.

Are you doing this right? Even with your shirt and skirt on, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been in front of another person. You’ve never done anything remotely like this before—how weird is it that the first person to touch you is going to be a female friend? That you’re not doing this for the right reasons (and what are the ‘right reasons’? love? intimacy? desire?), but for practice?

Mitsuri settles you back onto her lap and slowly drags your shirt up over your bra. When the undergarment is exposed, she bites her bottom lip and sucks in a breath, and you feel eternally grateful that you, by some coincidence or trick of fate, decided to wear one of your nicer bras today. She cups the side of your breasts and runs her thumbs over the lacy wine-red fabric. “Beautiful…you’re so sexy, (Y/N). I can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

Your cheeks feel hot. Maybe desire is part of the equation after all.

Leaving your shirt bunched up over your tits, Mitsuri returns to your pussy, petting over your thighs and stroking up your mound. Her index finger dabs into the wetness leaking out of you and then circles around your clit.

Around your clit, not on it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she’s deliberately not touching the place where you want— need to be touched. Her fingers are light and fluttery, not forceful in the least but making you crave more anyway. You try not to let your hips move, but before long you’re twitching on her fingers, trying to get her to do what you want. Your hands are braced uselessly on the headboard, but you hesitantly pick up your right hand to replace hers and touch your clit properly.

She isn’t having it. Her free hand catches yours before you can do anything. “Arms around my neck,” she tells you.

It’s frustrating to be unable to touch yourself when she just keeps building and building with these little flutters, but you trust her. Mitsuri’s a lot more experienced than you are. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her neck and wind your fingers into her loose hair.

Whatever she’s doing, though, it’s working. Even if you couldn’t feel how wet you are, you’d be able to hear it, the slick sucking sounds of your cunt dampened with your arousal. You’d be humiliated by the way it’s so obvious that you’re turned on if you were cable of thinking straight. Besides, Mitsuri doesn’t mind—at least not judging by the way she’s looking at you.

“Mitsuri…Mitsuri, can you…” You don’t know how to ask her, but you need more.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Two fingers brush over your clit again and you almost flinch, the light contact sending a spark directly through you. “Tell me what you do when you do this by yourself.”

“I…um…it’s embarrassing…”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Mitsuri lays a short peck on your cheek. “Do you know how pretty you look? I could fall in love with you right now.”

It’s not serious. It’s just the kind of thing Mitsuri says without thinking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Touch—a little harder…”

“Where?”

“You know where!” you tell Mitsuri, with as much bite as you can muster.

Mitsuri smiles. “Here?” She pushes a finger into your pussy and you whimper. “Or…here?”

And she’s touching your clit, rubbing over it quickly and franticly, the first direct contact you’ve had since she started. The muscles in your back tense, legs stiffening, toes curling in your fluffy white socks. “Oh— oh, oh, oh— Mitsuri…”

“Does that feel good?”

After all her teasing, it feels more than good. It’s like you’re being filled up with something, some kind of heat that her fingers are bringing out in you, and it’s about to tip over and spill out. You rock your cunt against her fingers, trying to get her to go harder—but she’s already rubbing against you so quickly that you can’t think straight.

Two fingers slip deeper into your pussy, spreading you apart and pumping your slick cunt while her palm provides sloppy stimulation to your clit. You mewl and fall forward onto her, head thrown over her shoulder, so you can feel the vibration of her soft laughter in your chest. “Do you like it? I can tell…you know, your insides are holding me really tight….”

How does she say such dirty things with that pretty mouth? You’d tell her off if you thought you could speak without moaning. “Unff…mmm…”

“I’m going to make you cum, baby,” Mitsuri hums. “You’re going to cum on my fingers, okay?”

She’s right. You’re about to tip over that edge, overflow, get off with Mitsuri fucking you with two fingers twisting and hitting your g-spot and sliding over you so deliciously that you don’t even care that all of this is wrong. “I’m— I’m cumming—“

“Uh-uh.” Mitsuri’s hand stops, still touching but no longer moving, and the heat in your pussy plateaus and then dips.

You’re so frustrated you want to scream. “Mitsuri…!”

“Can you do something for me?” She resumes the teasing movements from before, edging over your clit but not finishing it. “Tell me who you really like.”

“What?”

“I know you like me.” Her free hand, around your waist, slides up and presses her thumb into the divot between two vertebrae in your spine. “When you were talking about your crush, I know it’s me. Tell me you like me.”

“I—I don’t—“

“No, you do. You like me. Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you cum. You want to cum, don’t you? You need it? I’m going to give you what you need, so tell me you like me…”

It’s not like she’s being cruel. Mitsuri’s tone is as sweet and kind and caring as ever. Her pace is agonizingly slow and she’s right, you need it. You’re lucky your chin is resting on her shoulder because you wouldn’t be able to stand it if she saw the look on your face as you choke out, “I like…I like you, Mitsuri! I like you!”

“I like you too, (Y/N),” Mitsuri gasps, and then her fingers are moving again, rubbing your clit, making you crazy, and it’s only a second but you want it so bad that you only need a second before you— you’re— you’re falling apart—

“Mitsuri!”

Oh god. Oh god. It feels good, it feels crazy. You can’t think. You can feel the muscles in your pussy squeezing down intermittently on her fingers. She holds you still as the shocks race up through you, letting you twitch and convulse in her arms.

“See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mitsuri sings in your ear.

It takes you a long moment to get the strength to sit up, flopping bonelessly backward on her thighs so you can look her in the eye. “I don’t know,” you sigh finally. “Wasn’t exactly easy.”

Her eyes close when she smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You just need a little more practice.”

[vorish-musing]

Please Don’t Go (I’ll Eat You Whole)

U//nbrella A//cademy Vore Fic!

Hey guys! its been for FUCKING ever since I’ve created a story, its a bit shorter,, but if you guys want i do have a bit of a follow up fic I can post later on!

but this is the Klaus Hargreeves fic i promised y’all!

Spoiler Warning for Umbrella Academy S1 and S2.

Trigger Warnings:  this story contains soft, safe, G/t vore. if you do not like this, I suggest not reading. this story also mentioned digestion and death--neither of which happens! there is also substantial alcohol mention-- klaus is literally drunk the entire time. 

It was chance that Dave came by to the house, wanting to apologize to Klaus for the argument and the fight in the diner-- and even though Klaus was happy to see him, the fact that he was piss drunk made it a whole lot harder to keep his mouth shut about what he knew about Dave. the alcohol in his blood wanting to word vomit his way into telling Dave everything. 

From his favourite food, favourite book-- and to some details Dave didn’t even want to know about himself. Walking through the garden, it was very apparent that Dave could not believe one word out of Klaus’s mouth.

Klaus didn’t blame him, all he really did was lie and con-- exactly what he was doing with the cult. If Dave was talking about anything else, he would’ve been right.

But he wasn’t. And Klaus had to make him believe, had to try and save the kid, even if that meant Dave would never be with him. 

It had all come to a head as Klaus stumbled, trying to get him to not enlist, and he let it slip. Dave's death date--and where he had died.

As Klaus spoke, he could see Dave's hand shaking as it balled into a fist, “Even if I believed you. It wouldn’t matter, it's an honour to die for your country”

Klaus laugh at the naïve patriotism, “that's Bull--” 

“I’ve already enlisted.”

Dave's words sliced through Klaus’s hope like a sword, his breath hitching as the words escaped daves mouth, the kid looking at Klaus with anger and confusion. 

“you...What?! That's not supposed to happen yet.” 

“The other day after i saw you, my uncle took me down to the recruitment office” He looked Klaus down, clearly trying to make it seem like he was disgusted by the man before him, but no matter what Dave did or said, Klaus knew him, knew his secrets, almost like he knew his thoughts. 

‘It's all some kind of parlor trick, he’s a con artist’

“He made me sign up, I ship out next week”

Though Dave couldn’t shake the strange feeling that crept up his spine, like he knew who Klaus was, he could feel his face go red

‘Don’t let him get in your head’ 

Klaus almost fell to his knees at the reveal, he couldn't save him, he was going to that war and he was going to die, and there's nothing Klaus could do to stop him. 

He couldn’t stop thinking back to the nightclub, when they were dancing together, holding each other-- even if he could never have that again, he was willing to do everything in his power to make sure Dave wouldn’t have to suffer a death to a stupid war that ended in the same way it had started. 

“I have to go, save this story for the next time you want to recruit someone” Dave blinked a few tears away, looking away to quickly wipe them, as if he wasn’t phased by this at all. 

As the man tried to walk away, Klaus took his chance-- he had no idea what chance that was, but he was going to do whatever his mind came up with. 

“W-wait!” he blurted out, erratic and desperate, making Dave turn around, shocked at how loud the outburst was, not hearing him speak louder than a regular speaking voice before now.

‘Shit...he's staring at me’

“Y-you….” Klaus took a deep breath, calming his voice, trying to sound more rational “you got me.” he shrugged. 

Dave blinked, “...what?” 

His curiosity peaked, Dave turned around fully, Klaus let a smile slip out 

“You’re got me, I’m a fraud” he spoke these words almost gleefully, his own pain being masked by the pure glee of someone he could finally tell the truth to “I didn’t mean to start all of this, but I’m so fucked up, I can’t stop” 

Dave straightened his back, looking Klaus up and down “I thought so...glad you could admit it?” 

Klaus smiled a big, toothy grin “can I get you a drink? What you’re….23 correct? I can get you the best drinks that’ll knock your socks off-- think of it as a going away present--O-or better yet, a congratulations to finding out my con” 

Klaus stumbled over to Dave, who stepped back slightly. 

“This...isn’t another attempt to...convert me, Right?” Klaus laughed, shaking his head--like Dave was crazy to even think that-- “fine. One drink, then i'm gone.” 

“Of course” Klaus lied through his teeth. Taking a deep breath as he walked towards Dave, right passed him. “One drink.” 

The two of them walk to the house, Klaus leading Dave, who was apprehensive, but putting on a brave face. 

Ideas swarmed into Klaus’s head on what he could do, he could try get Ben to lift him up again and show he’s not actually lying, and he could also just keep him here for a few days, convince him the war was idiotic. 

With every thought pulsating through his head, an even more ridiculous one came to light, it was like his brain was trying to one-up itself.

Suddenly, it was like a lightbulb flashed into his head, it was the perfect plan--

Klaus jumped back a few steps as Ben appeared beside him, almost making him fall--he looked at the drunk man with annoyance before speaking, “Klaus, show him to the door and leave, I know what you’re thinking” 

Dave jumped back as well “what the hell are you doing?” 

Klaus looked to Ben, who almost had a pleading look on his face, then to Dave--it was clear he was on thin ice with the kid. 

“Sorry sorry!” Klaus brushed himself off “thought i saw a bee, disgusting things” he turned to Ben-- he turned to nothing in Dave’s eyes--”Such pests, I think they need to stay in their own business” 

As ben rolled his eyes, Dave's face twisted into more concern for Klaus, rather than anger, “...Right” 

“Anyways” Klaus cringed at the look Dave gave him as he turned to the house again, and quietly, as Ben walked back up to him, he spoke to his dead brother.”

“I won’t if I can convince him.” 

“You’re plastered, you won’t convince anyone”

Klaus waved his hand in the air “wow! These bees are crazy tonight! Don’t you think, Dave?” he turned to the man, who just stared back, following him sheepishly as they got to the door. 

“I don’t see any bees.” he spoke matter-of-factly. 

As Klaus opened it, gesturing for Dave to come inside-- he almost felt like the Witch in Hansel and Gretel, luring the man inside. “I guess you’re not looking hard enough.” 

Dave could feel a pit in his stomach as he walked into the giant manor, paintings of Klaus plastering the walls with plants up to the ceiling. 

With every step Dave could feel something sinking deeper and deeper in the already established pit in his stomach-- he couldn’t put his finger on it, it just felt so...off.

Surly he wasn't the only person who had found out his Con, and why was he being so nice about it all of a sudden? He was denying and Denying all he could a little bit ago, what was going on? 

Klaus looked over his shoulder to look at Dave from time to time-- almost to make sure he was actually following-- Through the corner of his eye he could see Ben following, giving Klaus a death glare--- which technically every glare would be a death one since he was….dead. 

Klaus finally stumbled into his personal room “This is my sanctuary away from the mob” 

It was a small room, only a small bed, and the floor was covered in pillows, it actually looked quite comfortable. 

“Feel free to sit wherever you want. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Once Dave had taken a step into the room, Klaus closed the door quickly, making the kid jump ever so slightly. 

Finally, Klaus had hit all of Dave's red flags, “Actually I need to be back to my Uncle, I should get going before he finds out where--” 

“Sh sh shh.” Klaus shushed him, “Sure you don’t need a drink, but just stay a bit longer? We still have so much to talk about” with those words, Klaus popped open a random half full bottle of alcohol, and without another moment to lose, drinking almost all of it, cringing as it burned going down his throat. 

Dave stared, just shocked that one person could drink so much alcohol, since he was already drunk.

“Talk about?” 

Klaus, now losing any more of his sobriety that was left, finally spoke, his words slurring ever so slightly, “I know you’re all ‘patriotic’ and shit, but joining a hopeless war and--”

He was cut off 

“Are you kidding?” Dave scoffed at Klaus, “I fucking knew it. I knew you wouldn’t just admit to me that you’re a fucking con.” 

Klaus shook his head, “you have to listen to me, Dave. I may not be an actual prophet but i do  know when you’re gonna die, you have to believe me” 

“Shut the hell up! You’re just… a wannabe commie with a shit for brains group backing you.” Dave turned around, preparing to leave without another word.

That was before Klaus bolted up, practically sliding into the door-- a loud bang following as he used himself to barricade the door. 

“You are going to die on February 21st, 1968--”

“Get out of my way--” 

“Its on A Shau Valley, Hill 68--” 

“Shut UP!” Dave pulled away from the drunken man, “I don’t care--Whatever you’re pulling out of your ass, you need to stop. This is ridiculous.” Dave backed up until his back hit the closet, startling him slightly, making him flinch. 

‘Why am I so scared?’

Klaus turned to ben, as he sat on the bed, watching-- as if he was witnessing a car crash and couldn’t look away.

“Let it go, Klaus. Let Him go.” 

“I fucking CAN”T” Klaus yelled at Ben, “He’s going to DIE.” tears threatened the older mans eyes as he wobbled back and forth. 

Dave took the chance he got as Klaus was (or what he thought he was) hallucinating, He bolted for the door, pushing Klaus to the side, who fell to the floor with a yelp. 

“Just stay away from me!” Dave grabbed the door handle, about to twist it-- until he felt Klaus grab onto his ankle, making him look down. 

He was sprawled on the ground, hanging onto His pant leg tightly.

Pain, anger, and sadness, mixed with a shit ton of alcohol finally took control, bubbling up into him as he allowed his emotions to take control.  

 Dave couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “You have to know that's not going to stop me.” 

“I’m not stopping you.” Dave's stomach dropped as Klaus chuckled back at him, a deep, almost menacing chuckle. 

“Wha--” Dave couldn’t finish the word as a deep, dizzying feeling washed over him like a tsunami.

“Be careful, I don't want you hurt you”

Dave fell to his knees, which seemed like a much farther drop than he would’ve thought, he could feel Klaus’s hand slip off of him. 

Klaus watched, sitting up into a crouched position, elbows resting on his knees, hands on his face, almost like a child, a smile wide as he watched in fascination as Dave fell to the floor and began shrinking. 

He was always interested in this part, how each person he would shrink, reacted once they really understood what was going on, he called it his own guilty pleasure-- he would never admit it-- people would think he was nuts. 

Not that shrinking people isn’t nuts.

“Wh-Whats happening?” 

The same thing everyone said-- Dave held his head tightly as the dizzying feeling got worse and worse--though he opened his eyes as wide as possible, though his vision was extremely blurry--he could see one thing. 

Klaus standing over him. 

‘What the….fuck?’ 

Klaus looked down at the shrinking man, getting smaller and smaller by the moments passing by “What's happening? Exactly what you think.” 

Ben rolled his eyes “Give him a chance to change his mind, please” 

“I will!” I will! Now go haunt someone else”

Finally, as if by some miracle, Dave’s vision  came back-- though once he saw what was in front of him, it seemed like regaining his vision was more of a curse.

Seeing a drunk, probably psychotic Giant in front of him staring him down, and he was talking to himself. 

“I-I” Dave finally found his voice in the turmoil his head was put through, “w-what the fuck did you...you do?!” his voice started out small, but it was like it grew with every word he spoke. 

Klaus couldn’t help but giggle softly, “Sorry, I know this is probably really bad for you but, you just look so goddamned cute~” Klaus reached his hand out slowly, and to that, Dave backed up right into the doorframe. 

Klaus was wrong, this wasn’t just ‘really bad’ for Dave, it was Terrifying for the young lad, he felt the wood hit his back, his eyes darting around to find another way to get away from the looming man. 

‘I could run under the door’ he paused for a moment ‘He’d get me before then’

“But…” Klaus pulled his hand back and shifted, so he was sitting with his legs crossed, hands still resting on his face. “To answer your obvious question; I shrunk you” 

“I--How--you…” Dave sputtered, his mind scrambled in between what was really happening and how to stop it “Make me normal again!” Was all he could come up with, having to deal with the fact that this was actually happening. 

Klaus then frowned, “Well that's entirely up to you, pal” The normal-sized man shrugged at Dave, who just blinked in surprise “You just have to do one thing for me.”

Dave could feel his heart sink at his words--‘what the fuck did he want?’

“s-Sure man, Anything, what is it?” Dave spoke, not even trying to mask the desperateness in his voice.

“Two words.” Klaus held up two fingers, “Draft” one finger down “Dodge” the other finger went down. 

‘It’s still about this?’--Dave was almost surprised at what lengths this guy went to so he could just simply not go to war--”I-I can’t, I wasn’t even drafted--” 

Klaus just waved a hand “Oh sure you can, millions of men did the same, some for multiple wars, its not too much of a big deal, just lay low for a bit. They’ll stop eventually” 

‘Multiple wars?’

He was fucking crazy.

“I-I can’t” 

“Why not?” 

Dave couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just agree with this man, his uncle would probably say his pride to honesty or some shit like that----“My uncle will kill me! I’d rather die for my country instead at the hands of my shitty family!” Dave paused, realizing what he had just said-- he wasn’t lying, which is really what surprised him.

There was a pause from Klaus as well. Seeing the shock climb onto Dave's face made his fall into a frown, shaking his head. 

“You could live here. No Cult shit needed.” Klaus tried once again to get him to agree, just a simple ‘ok’ would work for him, anything that could make this man stop his own death sentence… though one look from Dave made him realize that it was a dumb idea, letting out a slight sigh that turned into a chuckle “Scratch that, they never leave you alone--Fuck they never leave me Alone.” 

Dave Stared up into Klaus’s enormous eyes, though Dave's eyes wandered seeing Klaus smile--his Mouth, it was huge-- Don’t think about that, you’ll give him ideas, Dave. 

Though unbeknownst to the shrunken man, Klaus was already thinking it. 

And his brain was close to considering it. 

Klaus stared down Dave.

Dave stared up at Klaus. 

It was a standoff.

Klaus could hear ben-- right beside his ear, in a hushed whisper “Let him go.” 

He shook his head

“If i let him go, he dies” 

“w-What?!” Dave called out, his heart sinking lower and lower as he watched this man seemingly talking to air.  “w-what are you doing?!” 

“He won’t forgive you for this if you do it.” 

“---I don’t care! You're not the fucking angel on my shoulder--fuck off!” Klaus slurred throughout his tirade, turning to Ben with a glare “dead people don't get an opinion on what I do with the Living”

When Klaus turned, Dave took his chance. 

The boy turned--stumbling into a run towards the door, he could barely feel the steps he was taking, it almost felt like he was floating--his heart pounded right outside his chest, if he was just fast enough maybe he could get away before Klaus even noticed.

Maybe. 

Possibly.

No. 

“h-HEy!”

Dave spun around at Klaus’s outburst, being caught red handed, right by the door, ready to crawl under it--- his stomach sank in, forming a large pit in the bottom of it. 

Though before Dave could register what he was looking at, a pair of extremely large hands scooped him into their clutches, and he could only think of one thing---

getoutgetoutGETOUT

Klaus held the man tightly as he pushed against his fingers, kicking, screaming, punching--you name it, he was doing it--- all in an attempt to get out of the giants grasp. 

“Come on, you didn't have to do that! I wanted to let you go.” 

Dave paused, hearing the soft, almost disappointed tone Klaus’s voice produced, the tone hiring with each word, it was eerie how hurt the man was by this. 

Klaus was even more upset on the inside, his gut twisting and his chest tightening. He didn’t look up to Ben, but the ghost could tell who he was speaking to.

“I have to do this” 

Dave was about to yell out the obligatory “do what?!” 

That was until he was brought closer to Klaus’s face, he cringed at the lingering pungent smell of alcohol on the mans breath. 

“h-Hey...Klaus-- Listen I--”

“Don’t talk, It’ll make it worse” 

“W-what?!” 

Klaus didn't need to use words, as his lips parted, it was all too clear what his intentions were. 

Dave's mouth hung open for a moment, waiting for a yell to claw its way out of him, something that would at least make sure that he was fighting back. 

But nothing arose, he was just frozen in time, as the man before him simply pushed him into his mouth. 

Dave's eyes watered as the smell of alcohol burned through the air, making him slightly gag. Fucking gross.

Somehow, this was what brought him back out of his shock. 

Klaus laid back, smiling softly he rolled his eyes back in pleasure, it had been so long since he had eaten someone...at least someone that he actually wanted to eat. 

For the first few years, having the cult members beg for him to eat him was exhilarating, he had never gotten to eat people before, and having these people basically put themselves on a silver platter was fantastic. 

Until it wasn’t 

He didn’t realize that he could actually get sick of this feeling. 

The feeling of being actually full, having something alive inside of him, moving, breathing. 

When its said like that I sound like a psychopath. 

Dave let out a yell as Klaus began rolling him around, pushing him against his tongue, tasting the poor lad. The thick drool clung onto him, he couldn’t fight back, his limbs sliding against anything he tried to push against, the tongue, the teeth, he couldn’t grip onto anything.

This was really happening, he was in another human beings mouth. 

He couldn’t stop himself, he had to yell out “HELP ME! ANYBODY PLEASE!” every second he yelled, the more hoarse his voice was. 

Klaus couldn't help but smile, maybe the arrogance and narcissism in him was bursting at the seams, it was strange how some of the people in that very house would be on their knees--begging Klaus to do this to them. 

Klaus rolled his head backwards slightly, head hitting the wood of the bookshelf as he did so. 

“You can still let him out”

Ben sat right in front of Klaus, staring at him with disgust. 

This hadn’t been the first time he had watched this same scenario, though it usually involved drugs and alcohol.

“Mmmm!” Klaus shook his head, shushing the ghost, and rattling dave around, the man sliding from side to side across the tongue below him. 

“Come on Klaus the kid learned his lesson--” 

“Mmm!” 

Ben should’ve known this wouldn’t work, Klaus being angry, drunk and overconfident--it was a bad concoction destined to go wrong. 

“Just let him go!” 

“Mmfine!” finally, a slurred out word ben could recognize emerged out of it. 

Klaus’s lips parted as he opened his mouth wide for Ben to watch. 

Dave wheezed as his eyes adjusted to the light before him. He was staring at the other side of the room, the mountain of pillows and blankets on the other side of the room. 

Out….outside!

Through the slippery and slimy cave, Dave pushed himself forewards, which was less of a push, more of a slide foreward. 

Ben couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor dude, and if he was alive, he’d probably just outright snatch him out of the drunkards mouth. 

But alas, being dead sucked. 

And simply out of spite, Klaus swallowed. Staring into Ben's eyes as he did so. 

Dave let out a loud gasp as his legs were pulled into the darkness, forcing himself down his throat 

“NO!”

The throat muscles began to drag Dave down, pulling his body deeper and deeper into the tube below him.

Klaus shut his mouth, his point made very clear to Ben, who just sat there---mouth agape and looking disgusted at the man. 

Though Klaus paid no mind to this, letting his head roll back into the bookshelf, a small thud following.

He wished he could just enjoy what he could, without his brother bothering him about every little thing under the sun. 

It’s not like he was hurting the kid!

Klaus brought his hand to his throat, prodding, feeling the lad kicking through his skin as he began his descent into the esophagus. 

Dave couldn’t believe it.

But he had to. 

He was being eaten alive. His body being shoved down an esophagus. 

Actually no, ‘being’ shoved, would imply that it was force. No. he was being pulled gently down, just another piece of food for the stomach to enjoy. 

As dave traveled down his throat, slowly but surely, klaus found himself grinning, a hand on his stomach prematurely, waiting for the moment his prey arrived. 

Though a small pout on his face formed as his tongue dragged across his lips 

“Dammit Ben!” Klaus lifted his head, “I didn’t even get a good taste of ‘im!” 

Though as he looked to face the ghost, Ben was nowhere to be found. 

The room was empty. 

“Fine! Be like that!” 

Dave cringed as his body spilled into Klaus’s stomach, the putrid smell of alcohol pungent in the air. 

Dave could’ve gotten drunk right off the fumes. 

“no….nononoNONONO!” Dave pushed against the organ, cringing at the squelching sound it made around his hands. “PLEASE---PLEASE STOP!” 

Klaus dropped his hand down to his bare stomach, the organ slightly mishapen, he blamed it on the kid, not the massive amount of alcohol he consumed. 

He pushed back at the skin below his hands as Dave struggled, “thats not gonna do much, its best to just relaaaax” 

Klaus began softly massaging the organ, small circular motions, though it didn’t help much, feeling the man continue to kick and yell to him. 

But damn, it felt good. 

As he continued to ignore the yells-- the pleading from within the confines of him, he could feel himself growing more and more exhausted. 

“Well then, davey” Klaus patted his stomach, covering his mouth as a small burp escaped his stomach. “this has been a great time, but I am exhausted.” he groaned, getting up from his sitting positon, bringing his hand back down to his stomach. 

Daves heart sunk...that meant...that meant….”p-please klaus…” his voice choked out “please don't kill--” 

Dave let out a loud gasp as his surroundings shifted with each step, feeling a sickness inside of himself as if he was on a ship at sea. 

Klaus shushed the man, “I already said you're gonna be fine!”  did he? He couldn’t remember “I’m not going to hurt you, and if i was, I wouldn’t be this elaborate, trust me.” he fell right back down to the mountain of pillows, the softness engulfing him all around. 

It was hard to believe a man who had eaten him alive. 

Klaus brought his head up, poking his stomach. “Hey dave?!”

The kid paused his struggling, feeling the finger specifically prodding at him, “w-what?!” 

“If its any consolation, you tasted really good” 

“...its really not.” the disgusted tone in his voice growing slightly.

“Welp, can’t blame me for trying. Try and get some rest now.” 

“W-wait you can’t just leave me in here!” dave pushed at the slimy walls, his hands slipping and sliding around, it was hard to get a grip. 

Klaus just shifted around, making Dave wobble even more-- Placing his hand overtop of the organ containing the young man. 

It didn’t take long for klaus to pass out, his full stomach mixed with the comfortable position, it was almost instantaneous. 

For dave, it took a few more hours. 

He fought for quite some time as klaus slept, seeing if he could do anything that would annoy the man into spitting him up. though as the hours droned on, and the fact that he was still fully intact, not even a tingle or twinge of pain started to dawn on him. Sure, he was okay, and sure, he wasn’t going to die in there--

But how long was klaus going to keep him in there for? 

It really didn’t take long for the adrenaline he once had to wear off, his body begging for sleep, and even as the kid protested, not wanting to lower his guard, he couldn’t help but feel his eyelids pulling shut, the warmth and darkness almost forcing him into sleep. 

He hated to mention it, but the sounds around him were quite helpful too. 

Sure, he had bouts of anxiety with every gurgle and groan klaus’s stomach created, but he ended up growing used to them, the low drum of his heartbeat calming and rhythmic, even as klaus breathed in for air, he could hear the ‘wind’ going back and forth from his lungs. 

As he finally gave into his own body’s pleas for sleep, he hoped to god that Klaus would let him out in the morning. 

And with that thought, he was out like a light.

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

and that’s it! please let me know what y’all think! I’m glad i’ve been able to share this with you guys and show off the fic i’ve been hyperfixating on for so long! and as i said above, if y’all want a part two i am so happy to do so for you guys!

-Q

[nxrthmizu]

-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Fifteen: In Which Operation Damian Wayne Is A GO!

---

/Part One//Part Fourteen/

---

Patrol was fairly uneventful. Kitty had come to enjoy the sheer thrill of practically flying through Paris’s night sky, watching the city light up in whites and yellows. Wind vibrated in her ears sonorously, a rhythm forming in the tap, tap, tap of her feet as she touched down on roofs and balconies to provide the momentum for her next jump. Her technique had improved vastly into a flawless dance that her brain could activate without thinking much: It was like her eyes just immediately saw a path on the roofs and her body just carried out the action. 

Music rumbled in her ears as she neared the docks, hearing the faint strum of Luka’s guitar. The teal-haired boy was lounging casually on the dock, guitar in his relaxed hand. Looking up, aqua eyes met bluebell ones, and he gave her a soft, kind smile, which she returned with a wave. In the next moment she was gone, soaring over rooftops and streets with the agility of a natural feline. 

“Goodnight, Paris.” She whispered, the quiet aura of the city surrounding her, comforting her, thanking the hero for protecting the city and everyone in it. Baton extending, she leapt off the Eiffel tower, making one quick route around the city for good measure. 

Adrien yawned, peering out of the giant window by the side of his room. It was getting late, he thought, and was about to head to bed just as he heard the familiar, clear, metallic note of a baton extending. His green eyes trailed up towards the window, aligning with the fates in a moment to catch the cat-hero leaping past his bedroom. His jaw dropped. Her dark blue hair was dancing behind her in a braid, her bluebell eyes refined and sharp in comparison to the dark sky. 

For a single moment, the blonde model could feel his heart stop. 

And the next, she was gone. 

---

The transformation wore off just in time, because Robin was knocking on her skylight in the next. Had he been a moment earlier, he would’ve caught Kitty Noir standing in Marinette’s room, and the bluenette would have to come up with the most convincing ‘correlation does not equal causation’ explanation ever, and she didn’t have that much confidence in her ability to convince him otherwise. 

“Evening.” He greeted politely, smiling at the beaming bluenette, who (Suspiciously) looked slightly breathless. 

“Evening!” She replied brightly, catching a little more of her breath. “I made some lime-flavoured pastries today. Would you like some?” 

Robin shrugged and smiled thankfully. “Yes, please.” 

Marinette beamed, pleased that he wanted to try the pastries she’d made. There was the same, warm, polite glow inside Robin’s eyes that made him, undoubtedly, Damian. The bluenette smiled with growing affection, leaving the vigilante in confusion as he stayed perched on the balcony. 

A few lime macarons later, they had fallen into a comfortable conversation, which consisted majorly of Marinette talking excitedly about the ideas she had for funding, and where she was hoping the whole club could go once they had gotten all their funds. Robin watched the bluenette fondly as she chattered on in excitement, the spark of passion in her eyes making him fall even more. 

Halfway through their conversation, Marinette’s phone dinged- Without a doubt, it was a text from Chloe regarding Operation Damian Wayne. She ignored the text, continuing to talk animatedly about her ideas and so. 

Glancing at his watch, Robin decided it was getting late. “Thank you for the pastries, angel.” He thanked softly, reaching for her hand so he could press a kiss on it. A pleased feeling spread through his body like heat as the bluenette blushed. “Goodnight, angel.” His grappling hook shot off into the sky, his eyes catching sight of the gleaming silver ring on her hand as she raised it to wave at him. 

“Night, Robin.” 

---

Queen Bee, clad in her superhero attire, wrapped in a dark jacket (Because was she that hard to spot in the dark if she was wearing bright yellow?), eyed Damian’s window with an amazing alertness. Marinette had shot her a text, saying that Robin had left her balcony minutes ago. Knowing the bird-themed vigilante, it wouldn’t take him more than two minutes to basically fly over half the city. 

Sure enough, the whizz of Robin’s grappling hook sounded a few moments later, followed by the vigilante himself. He glanced around, slipping into the window when he thought no one was looking. The window snapped shut after a few moments, Queen Bee smiling victoriously as she concluded that yes, Damian Wayne had to be at least Robin, if not Lordbug, too. 

[Queenie] 11.36pm

Operation Damian Wayne is a positive. 

[Minette] 11.37pm 

Drop by my place if you want some macarons~ 

[Queenie] 11.39pm 

As if I would stoop so low as to go to your balcony at 11pm just for pastries- 

[Minette] 11.40pm 

You’re on your way, aren’t you? 

[Queenie] 11.42pm 

... Just to discuss the results of Operation Damian Wayne. 

Queen Bee huffed, landing on Marinette’s balcony and wishing she would wipe that innocent smile off Marinette’s face. The bluenette knew that Chloe loved the newly-created lime-flavoured macarons, and just wouldn’t admit it. 

“Just to clarify,” Bee announced. “I’m just here to discuss the results of Operation Damian Wayne.” 

“Sure.” Marinette hummed in agreement, already pushing a macaron into Bee’s hand. 

---

A/N: Hello everyone! I know this hasn’t been updated for a long time but... I’m back! Comment if any mistakes were found~ 

***Important!!!***

Since quite a number of people commented on wanting to join the tag list, I’ve decided that I’ll add everyone that comments on this post (And this post only, if you commented that you want to be part of the tag list on other chapters I won’t be adding you as I can’t keep track of where the tag list requests are coming from). I’ll add everyone who comments for tag list on this post until 14th of August, 12.00am (Malaysian Time). 

On another note, requests are open! Check out the rules and specifications on my profile and request once you’ve decided on what you want! It might take me a while to get back to your request, but I’ll give all my effort into it when I do get to it. 

Tag list! @yin-390@mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland@rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume@graduatedmelon@thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu@screamingtofillthevoid@serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95@roseinbloom02 @beautym3@resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil@tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry@lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue@dannyelric301 @daminett4life@loysydark@sparkle9510 @nataladriana9@maya-custodios-dionach @myazael @sassakitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @emootaku-666 @moonlightstar64 @r0sebutch @maggiecc12 @gaeasun @bluefyoto94 @sam-spectra @toodaloo-kangaroo @queenmj10 @animegirlweeb @saays-bitch @kaithehero @toodaloo-kangaroo @user00000003 @akkirasfics

[vanchlo]

Under The Bed / Chapter Three, “Down”

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WARNINGS: Mild swearing???

WORD COUNT: 5.9k words

LEGEND:

* : jump in time

* * : change in point of view

TAGLIST: IDK HOW TO DO THESE, BUT IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED SO YOU KNOW WHEN A NEW CHAPTER IS POSTED, JUST LET ME KNOW! :)

@berrynarrybanana

@wotamelonsugar​

SNEAK PEEK OF COURSE ->

Even after I slipped under the bed, and back into my world, her sobs still wrench at my heart and fill my head. It doesn’t matter how far I get away from her door that looks like a pixie threw up on it, pink as can be, I still hear them. If anything, they get louder and swarm around in my head. I shake it a bajillion times, wishing they would leave, and that when I pass other monsters who pat me on the back for the sound of her wails, I wish all the more for them to be gone.

THEN

He kept doing that thing, and by thing I mean, showing up and scaring me.

Every night, he popped out from underneath my bed without fail, and scared the bejeezus out of me. He left me crying into my butterfly pillow from an impossibly horrible face he made, an insult he made that I took to heart, or because he wrecked one of my stuffed animals. I didn’t know how to get him to stay away, even if he was kind of cute I’d never tell him that, and when he screws up his blue face to look like a goblin, it’s not very cute. 

I dreaded him coming tonight, just like any other night for the last two weeks. He never missed a night, and I had gotten used to staying up past my bedtime until he arrived, sure that that would save me some pain instead of getting woken up to frogs in my bed and gum stuck in my hair. He had told me about doing that to Polly down the street last week, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain that to my parents in the morning. So, I stayed awake even though it was so hard on so many nights. Tonight, it was hard, but in a different way, because I wanted more than anything to be asleep after my third horrible day of school. I had no choice in the matter, and it worked out that Harry showed up right at nine-thirty. 

“Wakey wakey, bratty!” a voice booms, and I jump awake. 

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” I moan, unsure of who or why I announce myself. 

“Shiiiiiiit, I was hopin’ ya wouldn’t be. ‘s much mo’ fun t’ scare ya awake, ya hardly made a peep jus’ then,” the voice tuts with a clicking of their tongue. A puff leaves my lips when the light flicks on and his menacing figure appears before my eyes. “Welcome back t’ tha world o’ yer nightmares, Josie, loud and proud. Afraid ‘m back fer anotha night t’ scare yer socks off.” 

The My Little Pony covers slide off of me, and I fix the sleeve of my flowery night gown that rode up my shoulder. Ignoring him, I’m met with relief when my fingers grasp the cold familiarity sitting on my nightstand. 

“What tha hell, are ya givin’ me tha cold shoulder now?” he retorts with a volume in his voice, but I kn- I hope that he won’t talk loud enough to wake up Mommy and Daddy. “Since bloody when d’ya do that, Josie?”

“I’m reading, shhh,” I tell him, turning past the first few pages of a Clifford the Big Red Dog book until I find the first page with a picture of him and his owner, Emily Elizabeth. 

“Oh my days, I can’t believe tha nerve you have, girl,” the monster spits back at me, but with shaking fingers, I try to shove his voice away. I have an even harder time finding happiness in the pictures when it’s so hard to forget that he’s standing right there, ready to attack. “Ya think ya can talk t’ me like that, a full-on monster? Tsk, tsk, you dunno who yer talkin’ t’ here, ya li’l-.” 

“Eh-eh-v . . ugh . . Eh-eh-v-r-e-e . . ,” I try to sound out the word at the bottom of the page, but it’s so long and I don’t know this one. “Eh-ev-ree . . won loves Clifford, b-b-b-bee-c-c-cah-ssssss-e he has good m-m-m-a-a-a-n-n-er-r-r-r-s. You don’t have good manners, Harry, that’s something you need to work on.” 

“‘Scuse me, Josie Stephens? I reckon ya don’t even know what tha hell manners are, now d’ya, ya li’l shit?”

Gulping, I tear my eyes away from his angry green pair. Looking back to the book, I try to focus on reading the next part. I get the first two words, but then I’m stuck again, sounding it out like a dummy. I don’t understand how so many of my classmates already know how to read, and I don’t! 

Creeeeeeeeeak!

My eyes shoot up and find Harry is closer, he must have taken a step towards me. As soon as I had looked up, his feet inch away from me, and I wish I hadn’t. Rubbing at my eyes sleepily, I take a deep breath and try again. 

“M-m-m-m-y-s-s-s-eh-l-l-.” 

“Myself,” Harry pipes up, and when I forget the book to look at him, we’re both shocked. “Tha word ‘s ‘myself’. ‘I taught him myself,’ it says,” he tells me slowly. Maybe, just maybe, he sounds normal and like me. Who would have thought that could be? “Duh, ‘s an easy word, even a Kindie like you shoulda known that, stupid.” 

Shaking my head, I move the hair out of my eyes and continue to read, quieter than before, and yet I feel his eyes on me like a hot pair of sun rays. 

“Clifford says p-p-p-l-eeeeee-s w-w-he-n he a-a-s-s-. Why are you laughing at me? I’m only five, we don’t know how to read yet,” I say, pointing my eyes at him. A sound flies from his lips that I’ve never heard before in that way. I think it might be a laugh, a happy one. 

“Sounds like I jus’ heard a five year old swear right there. Looks like me job ‘s done, ruining you by teachin’ you yer first curse. Ass,” he titters, walking away and towards the end of my bed. 

My throat begs for a glass of water and the words that didn’t make sense anyways become blurry in front of me. Swiping under my eyes, I get rid of the tears the second they warm my cheeks. 

“W-What’s this word?” I ask nervously, keeping my head down and refusing to look at him. I know that he likes to see my tears, and I don’t want him to, because then he only becomes meaner. Sniffling, I listen as his steps creak along my floor and his musty smell tickles at my nose. 

“Which one?” he groans as if I had asked the most stupid question in the entire world. I don’t answer out loud, and instead, I point to the one that starts with an ‘s,’ but my tired brain doesn’t want to figure it out. 

“Sumthin’,” he responds, and it pulls my eyes up and over to him. The light catches in the caramel colored streaks in his hair, and the gold bits in his eyes. Shocks of pink around my room from posters, stuffed animals, books, and my Hello Kitty clock look funny behind him. “Something,” he repeats clearly, yanking the book from my hand to point at a word. “D’ya know this one at least?”

“P-p-p-puh-l-,” I begin, but he interrupts me with a whine of ‘you jus’ read it, c’mon now,’ and I continue until he nods when I say ‘please.’

“And this one?” he continues, pointing to one that starts with a ‘t’ that takes me a few tries until I get it. “What comes afta ‘thank’ usually?”

“You,” I tell him, and he nods, at some point perching himself on the side of my bed like a bird. I almost think I hear him say ‘good,’ but it’s gone before I can decide if I did or not. 

The books lining my shelf across the room under the window itch for me to go and grab them, and sound out the words with him that look like nonsense to me. I hold back, and ask Harry to repeat what he said. 

“Yer fallin’ ‘sleep,” he notes, bumping shoulders with me. I shake my head and blink hard, knowing that he’s right. “He says ‘thank you’ when he gets sumthin’. And he writes a thank-you note when someone gives him a present . . ,” and before I know it, the words from the pages are dropping from his lips, slowly, telling the story. 

I don’t remember my head falling onto his shoulder or him letting it stay there. I definitely didn’t know that when I let my eyes rest for one second that I was going to fall asleep, and that the next time it would all feel like a dream, a far away dream that could never be true. 

Because there’s a monster under my bed who’s really gross and mean to me, and he just read me a bedtime story and was maybe nice to me. 

That couldn’t be, could it? 

* *

The ripe smell of mothballs and wet dogs welcomes me back, ripping away the sweet relief of berries and cream that graced my senses for the last however-long-it-was. My feet land with a loud clap! onto the shambles of wooden decking below. I kick the forgotten remnants of a Scooby Doo stuffy away with the torn toe of my Converse. Loud, raucous laughter echoes around me and is followed by a spit and whizz of a bottle rocket nearby. It paints the ink black sky with shocks of gold and white for a few moments, suddenly making me miss the light. The next thought makes me stumble over a lost pink ukulele with broken strings. I think I miss the smell and the warmth, no matter if I never get cold.

How the fuck can I miss that obnoxiously sweet smell of ripe red strawberries, and decadent cream that they’re drowned in? 

Would you shut the fuck up, Harry? What, are you finally going nuts here, on your four hundred and eighth year? 

“Oi!” somebody shouts, yanking me from my thoughts much to my gratitude. “Wait up, would ya?!” they continue in their familiar lilt. Stuffing my hands away in my pockets, met with the typical cool temperature of my own body, my feet kick up sand clouds when they stop suddenly. 

“What d’ya want, Ni?” I spit back, not bothering to turn my head. His cackle accompanies my boring slide down the Hill of Doom Jr. that he rides like a wave. 

“Who put a stick up yer arse, ‘arry?” he gripes, almost losing his footing once we reach the end. “Not a good night with yer kiddies or summat?”

“Sure,” I answer stubbornly, my eyes flitting past the weathered signs slapped onto the pole, pointing every which way with words scrawled onto them. Minneapolis. Chicago. Detroit. Los Angeles. Washington D.C. 

“I found some peanut butta at one o’ mine. I s’pose I could be a good mate and give ya some, but y’know what ‘s gonna cost ya. Figure I should get even mo’ than that seein’ as how ‘m deathly allergic.” 

“Don’t want any,” I retort, walking around the scuffed Spongebob skateboard and Kim Possible figurine lying beside it, missing her signature head of red hair. But it’s forgotten when my foot steps on something, and I lift it to find a plush Hello Kitty with its head torn off, the white more like a light brown now from all of the shoe prints muddling it. A little stuffy that I know all too well, and had forgotten my handy work with until now.

Somehow, it bothers me more than it should, and tips me over the edge. 

“What d’ya mean ya don’t-.” 

“I said I don’t want any fuckin’ peanut butter, Ni, and I never said I wanted yer company, now fuckin’ did I?”!” I explode, whirling around and scaring him to the point that he almost runs into me. His unruly eyebrows sink and the neon purple in his eyes shrinks, the scaring of a monster quite comical in the thought. 

“Fuck you, ‘arry. Dunno who shit in yer bed, yer always high as a kite afta gettin’ done with that Stephens girl. Jus’ cuz ya couldn’t scare tha lights outta her dis time doesn’t mean ya hafta jump down me throat cuzza it,” he says curtly, shaking his head of silver hair that sticks up at all ends. Muttered words float past me as he walks away with the pep out of his step. 

“‘s not that I couldn’t . . ‘s that I didn’t wanna . . fer tha first time,” I curse under my breath, kicking a pink stone riddled with holes off the edge, not waiting to hear its plink! at the bottom of Ghastly Gorge.

Clenching my jaw to stop me from saying all of the words that ricochet inside of my skull, I take a few turns until I step onto a rickety lift. Ignoring the two vampires who cling to each other’s necks with loud suckling noises, I tip my head back and close my eyes against the yellow light of the naked bulb above me. I don’t even lose my footing as the contraption whips from side to side and up and down with the loudest of screeches, lastly halting with a piercing ding! 

Sulking my way off and back to unsolid ground, the giggles from the ghoulish pair continue behind me, suddenly making me wish Liza was here. Biting my tongue, I try to forget about her, and the other her. Yanking open the door, it falls off its top hinge and I leave it there hanging, not giving a shit clearly. The squeals of the fireworks are almost out of earshot, but now, the shouting from some kind of game trickles past. 

“Can’t even get peace and quiet here o’ all places?” I mutter with a long sigh, pushing harshly at the metal gate. It hits the fence with a deafening clang! of metal on metal. 

“Heya, Harry!” somebody shouts and I nod and wave. More ‘hellos’ follow between the gravestones as I kick my feet along the black dirt path. “Oh, on your way to The Rotting River, I see . . Let’s leave him be, lads, he doesn’t look too terrible, the poor bloke,” Henry the Horrid whispers ever so loudly and I toss a hand up in the smallest of thanks, only bringing the memory back bigger and brighter.

Since when do I have fucking manners?

Their transparent white bodies float away with their silent steps, and from the corner of my eye, I see Marcus speed away like a flash of moonlight. 

“Why? Why? Why in tha fuck why?!” I scream, pitching the hundred pound rock into the black water, far and away. “What tha absolute fuck am I doin’? ‘m gonna ruin it all, everythin’ ‘ve ever built!” the red rock crashes into the water and under the green cast of the orb hung in the sky, it smatters onyx droplets across the green. I pluck another one from the ground at random, in between shards of bones, glass, and lost lovers necklaces, propelling them into the lazy waves of the river, wishing it was crashing tonight like the throes of my heart. Something I thought I hadn’t had for the last few centuries, but here I am, low and behold, seeming to have one.

That doesn’t happen, it’s not supposed to be. My kind . . we’re not supposed to use them, or even have a working one. 

How is it that when I saw the glassy tears in Josie’s eyes tonight, it felt like it was being squeezed in my chest? I can’t explain away the warmth I felt in it when her head fell onto my shoulder, and then when I pulled the covers over her tiny, sleeping body. 

I broke a hundred dozen rules tonight, enough to get me sent to the headstones just over the hill, and I can’t decide whether I care or not. 

* *

The tater tot casserole sitting in my stomach tried to lull me into an early sleep that next night, but with determination, I ignored it. I sat in bed with my school books in my lap, flipping through the pictures and trying to find familiar words. I knew that I wouldn’t find many, if any, but it didn’t stop me from trying. 

I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there after dinner looking through the books and making up my own stories, until my tired eyes glanced to the window. There I sat, watching the last few rays of sun be sucked back into the ground, or that’s how it looked. 

Smack!

“Arentcha a li’l old t’ be havin’ shit like this?” a voice pipes up, and before I see him, I smile. I really wish that I hadn’t, because when he turns around, that dark glint in his eye has returned. I don’t know why I thought his voice sounded- what did it sound like, like it had last night? When the words from the Clifford The Big Red Dog book fell from his chapped lips? 

All of my questions are answered when there’s a loud crash! and my Hello Kitty pink clock smashes into a puddle of glass at his feet. “Whoops,” he giggles as I suck in air loudly, the dirty bottoms of his shoes crunching through the glass that I’m sure I’ll never get out of my carpet now.

“What, ya think ‘m gonna bloody read t’ you again or sumthin’, brat?” Harry says, nodding to the pile of books that I tighten my grip on now. “Not gonna speak t’ me, are you? Y’know that’s never a good bet, Josie Stephens,” he continues, each word laced with disgust from his lips. He licks them with his chalky pink tongue as the floor creaks with his nearing. 

“Don’t!” I squeal when he reaches for the books, but I put up a fight. 

“It never does any good fightin’ me, li’l shit, ya should know this by now,” he retorts, giving one last yank with his hands and painfully ripping the books from my grasp. “Ooooo, what d’we got here, huh? More stupid Clifford, Scooby Fucking Doo, Pussy Tom and that minx Jerry, and Peter Bloody Pan. Hmmm, looks like a good lot ya got here, Josie. I reckon they won’t be very easy t’ read if they’re in shreds.” 

“Harry, no! Please, those are from school, they’re not mine! I’ll get in trouble with my teacher,” I beg, getting on all fours and crawling across my bed towards him. One look is all he needs to get me to stop, because I know if I took one more step towards him he’d pull out one of those faces that’d make me wet the bed . . again. 

“Even better then, love,” he smiles that mischievous smile with his yellow teeth that he swipes his tongue across. I feel a lurch in my chest when the first book begins to look like rainbow snow falling from his fingers, then the next, and the others while he laughs loudly. My pleas for him to stop don’t make any difference, and I fear that they only make his devilish smile brighter and wider across his blue tinted cheeks. 

“Why’d you do that?!” I almost scream, and one of his unruly eyebrows raises in answer. 

“How many times do I gotta bloody tell ya t’ shut yer mouth?” he lips back in return, tossing the last handful of papery snow behind him. 

“No, I won’t! Why’d you read to me last night if you were just gonna do that?” I sob, angry words flying with the tears. It’s only a second, but I think that I surprised him. “I thought you could be nice!” 

“Ya well, ‘m not nice, Josie. ‘m a bloody monster, I dunno why you expected that I could ever be nice. Me job ‘snt t’ be nice, ya brat, and that was a fluke - a one time thing that’s never gonna happen ‘gain, ya hear? Stop cryin’ ‘bout yer bloody books and fuckin’ go t’ bed, ya cry baby,” Harry hisses, tightening the frayed red and black flannel tied around his body covered in holey black clothes. 

“But you can be nice, I saw it! You are nice, Harry, if you just try!” 

“What’d I say, li’l girl, huh? Go t’ bed befo’ I make ya, and ya don’t wanna see that happen, I can promise ya that,” he answers with a stern finger pointed at me. The lights flick off with no warning and I fall back when he pushes me onto my covers. I don’t remember when he left, because I was too wrapped up in the tears flowing down my cheeks, and the fear leaking through them. 

He’s right, I am stupid for thinking that the monster who lives under my bed could ever be nice. 

*  *

Even after I slipped under the bed, and back into my world, her sobs still wrench at my heart and fill my head. It doesn’t matter how far I get away from her door that looks like a pixie threw up on it, pink as can be, I still hear them. If anything, they get louder and swarm around in my head. I shake it a bajillion times, wishing they would leave, and that when I pass other monsters who pat me on the back for the sound of her wails, I wish all the more for them to be gone. Suddenly, I’m not proud of them, and I had thought that the few tears she shed the other night bothered me, but this is anything but that. It rips apart my insides how they dig into the crevices of my mind, and how they pull me back to her. 

With every step past the cracked headstones weathered of names and dates of life, my feet become heavier, like cement blocks. With each step, they grow a pound in weight, and the stones and boulders I chuck into the blackness can’t even compare. The shrieks and requital of the pissed off mermaids and slimy grindylows below don’t throw a damper on my exaggerated rock skipping. 

“We’re tryna sleep here, ye fool!” one of the pinched faced mermaids bellows at me, propelling the sharp edged stone back at me. 

“Does it look like I fuckin’ care what yer doin’?” I scream back, chucking a bigger stone in her direction. She yelps before her muddled neon pink hair disappears below the murky surface. “Fuckin’ mermaids, bloody lot still hate me afta I broke tha heart of yer beloved Hera last century,” I mutter under my breath, at last falling to sit on a smooth, red boulder. Prying the minuscule shards of glass from the soles of my shoes, my dormant lungs beg for air, something that stuck with me past my days as a human.

I don’t need to breathe or let alone be gasping for air, but it never escaped me, although most other mortal things certainly did. 

It feels as if a stone stronger and wider than those beneath my feet sits lodged in my throat when I try to swallow, her face stuck behind my eyes. My throat soon feels akin to Darkly Desert a few miles away and the emerald reflected on the toiling waves grows messed up in front of me. 

“What tha bloody hell?” I curse, swiping a finger across my cheek and feeling wetness greet my chalky skin. “Christ Almighty,” I breathe, feeling the cool tears scatter my cheeks as my nose sniffles accordingly. “I can’t remember tha last time I had a bleedin’ cry, certainly not since ‘ve been a monster. Tha fuck ‘s happenin’ t’ me?” I croak, my head collapsing into my hands. 

“Gotcha heart broken by another girl, Harry?” a slinky voice asks, waves lapping against the rocks at my feet. I don’t need to peek my eyes open to know who it is, their revolting voice and squeaky, wicked laugh tells me the whole story. 

“Would ya fuck off, Freya? N’body asked you,” I crack, toeing my shoe through a puddle of rotten weeds that I fling at her. She scoffs loudly and it’s unbeknownst to me whether she scurries away or lingers. 

“Me’s hopin’ she did good work on it, if ya even have anythin’ left in there. Guessin’ ‘s a shriveled ol’ black thing by this time,” Freya bites back, making a loud exit and whipping her tail to spray me with the water that reeks of rotted corpses and fish. 

“Like you’ve ever had one, Frey, it takes one t’ know one!” I shout, standing to my feet and tossing one more stone in her direction. “N’body likes yer kind anyways, jus’ glorified fish with boobs, you are,” I groan with a shake of my head, my feet crunching with every step over the tiny bones that her and her posse toss to the shore like it’s their own garbage bin. 

Questions swim through my mind as I hike up the hill muddied by last night’s boiling hot rain showers, wondering how I can fix this. I jumped right past the wondering and decision making, and have landed right at the ‘how.’

I really do have a problem here, but the one that concerns me isn’t the existential one of sorts. 

“Open alfucking ready!” I shout, pounding my fist on the chipped wooden door, streaked with red. I’m not sure if I want to ask the question of what made it red. “Zekey, c’mon open up , you git!” I continue, lifting my fist for another blow right when the door swings open. 

“Da fuck d’yeh want, ‘arry?” he sighs in return, rubbing at his eyes and only further smearing the black makeup surrounding them. “Shouldn’t yeh be out on yer route, and not buggin’ me?”

“‘m uh, in between kiddies right now, Z. Ya busy, mate?” I explain softly, biting at my nails but there’s not much left to bite. 

“Apparently not, and would it even matta if I was? ‘m sure yeh’d still barge right in, wouldntcha?” he tuts, turning around and leaving the door open for me. “By tha way, did yeh fookin’ tell Ly’ that I revoked his invitation? Told yeh not t’, I found him snoggin’ me girl and that’s reason enuff t’ banish him from here, I reckon.” 

“Nah, that wasn’t me. Maybe it was Ni, I dunno. Can we get on with this, ‘s important,” I rush, tip toeing a careful trail through his doorway littered with empty beer bottles, cardboard pizza boxes, and cigarette butts. “D’y’know how t’ bloody pick up fer once, Z? Yer not even a monster, so ya can’t fall back on tha ‘messy monster’ cliche, mate.” 

“I dont’ rememba askin’ yeh, ‘arry. Now, what tha fook d’ya want that I had t’ wake up fer?” Zeke responds with disdain laced in his voice, collapsing onto his maroon sofa that’s by far seen better days, perhaps last century even. 

“‘m takin’ up that favor o’ mine ya owe me, and don’t even say sumthin’ like, ‘oh, what favor?’ Cuz ya bloody well know what favor, need I remind you?” 

“No, no. My bloody God, ‘arry, jus’ name it already. ‘m not gettin’ any younger sittin’ here waitin’ fer yeh t’ explain yerself away, am I now?” he sighs, raking a hand through his spiked, electric green hair. I nod and with an unnecessary breath, I steady myself, and prepare the sentence that I’ve rehearsed over and over. 

“I need some o’ yer Fix-It Dust,” I say slowly, waiting for his reply.

“That’s all? God, yeh scared me, thinkin’ I needed t’ hex somebody, bring a lover back from tha dead, or wipe a memory,” Z chuckles, springing up from the sofa and across the room to his bookshelf that’s never changed in appearance since that day I met him at the Wobbly Waterfall and came back here. “There, easy ‘nough,” he announces a moment later, tossing a small, dark bottle at me. The bookshelf behind him slides closed, and the fluorescent bottles coloring the rainbow disappear behind the moving novels. 

“Thanks, Z.” 

“Don’t mention it, Hare. I dunno why yeh think that warrants a favor,” he replies with a soft laugh and shrug of his shoulders. 

“What d’ya mean?” 

“‘s bloody dust, mate, not a bleedin’ spell, jinx, or body swap. Tell anybody I did this fer you, and yer screwed, but tha favor still stands. Good luck with whateva tha fuck it ‘s, I don’t care and don’t wanna,” he insists, waving a hand at me. 

“I appreciate it, mate, thank you.” 

“Since when d’yeh have fricken manners, Hare? Yeh gettin’ soft on me, or sumthin’?” he giggles, crossing his pale arms riddled with black ink, one or two of them my own handiwork. 

“Oh, would ya learn when t’ shut yer fuckin’ mouth, Zeke?” I scoff with a tut of my head, turning around and kicking a few beer bottles out of my path. 

“Hare, a softie? It really mus’ be tha end o’ days a comin’,” he titters from behind me, soon the sound of his TerroVision roaring to life. 

“Mention that t’ anyb’dy and ‘ll knock a few mo’ o’ yer teeth out, mate!” I counter, hearing the last few licks of his laugh before the door slams behind me. 

“This shite better magic me way back onto her good side,” I sigh, turning the dark bottle over in my hands, watching the flecks of fluorescent orange trickle around, and wondering just what the hell I’m doing. “I need t’ fix me fuck up befo’ ‘s too late,” I say, shoving it into my pocket hurriedly and padding down a flight of chipped steps, my heart thumping harder with every step that nears her. 

* 

Her decadent smell of berries and cream welcomes me back first, and then the sound of her slow snores. Her Scooby Doo night light smiles at me ironically, shedding light on the piles of torn paper on the cream carpet. Never, did I feel so guilty. The dried tears staining her cheeks and the heart wrenching sniffling in her sleep only make matters worse. Her mattress sags under my weight and I watch how her chest rises and falls with every breath, a sensation I can’t remember experiencing, but then again, I’ve never tried to remember it. I thumb away the strands of golden hair cast over her face, her smell wafting over me when I brush my thumb against her warm skin. Toasty breaths against my hand remind me that they feel like icicles, and that somehow long ago, they used to feel like her. They used to feel human, and so did I. 

“‘m so sorry, Josie, for ruinin’ yer books and clock. Pinky promise ‘ll fix ‘em. Right here and now,” I whisper softly, placing the wild strand of hair behind her ear adorned with an earring of a little, pink ice cream cone. Standing up, I look over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t wake her. 

She’s not really a heavy sleeper or a light one, I’ve found, somewhere in the middle instead. With my back to her, my grimey shoes come to freeze before the flurry of colored paper below me. Nibbling at the inside of my cheek, fretting, I fish the bottle from my pocket. The brown cork slides from the opening easily with a pop! before I turn it around in my hands, finding Zekey’s chicken scratch on the other side. 

After sprinkling on your screw up, chant these words and it’ll magic your mistake away, like it never happened. Three times is a charm. 

Fixus Motalus 

“Easy enuff,” I mutter, stuffing the cork away into a pocket. Tipping the bottle to the side, I tap my finger against it to watch the glowing dust fall to the floor. “Fixus Motalus. Fixus Motalus. Fixus Motalus,” I recite and within a blink, the pile of torn books sparkles before an imaginary wind kicks them up into a tornado of sorts, mending themselves back together before my smiling eyes. 

My steps leave creaks along her carpeted floor, something I’ve always hated, because it gives me away. I just hope it won’t do that very thing now, when I need to remain in secrecy more than ever before. 

“C’mon, Posie, where’s yer markers? They’ve gotta be here sumwhere, bein’ a little kiddie and all,” I sigh, my eyes searching her desk that, of course, is a baby pink. Only when I pull open a drawer do I find a stack of plain paper, and a plastic box chalk full of markers. 

Plucking one of the papers from the stack and a blue marker, I quickly scrawl a note on it before the cap clicks! back onto the marker. I’m careful to shut the drawer quietly and to not move a thing from its place, besides the Aladdin water bottle on her bed stand. Beside it, I find room to place the shiny pile of books with her teacher’s name written on the front, and with my note sat on top. 

She continues to snooze away, unknowing of my presence, and ignoring the crackling of glass below my feet at the end of her bed. As silence trickles through the house, I watch until every last sparkling fleck has fallen from the bottle to the floor, leaving it empty. A small tornado of sharp glass whirls into the air above the floor, and like a puzzle, they fit themselves back into the pink frame of the clock. With a whooooooosh!, it flies itself back up the wall and to the nail that it hung from, a shiny glint on its glass. 

“I dunno what yer doin’ t’ me, Josephine May Stephens,” I cluck softly, hands stuffed in my pockets as I trudge over to her bed and find a seat in front of her. “But I know ‘s no good, that’s fo’sure . . cuz I think I may be gettin’ a soft spot for you . . and monsters don’t get soft spots for kiddies, we hate you lot typically. Yet, here I am, thinkin’ I might be likin’ a kiddie. ‘m in fer real trouble with you, aren’t I, lovie?” 

* *

Sun stretches through my blinds the next morning, trying to reach me. Groaning, I turn over in my bed and call back to my mom when she knocks on my door, asking if I’m awake. Flying up to sit, my eyes race around the room, hoping she won’t walk in. 

“Alright, honey. Breakfast is ready, come and eat before it’s cold.” 

“Okay, Mom!” I reply, swinging my legs over the side of the bed as I lift the covers, accidentally hitting my bedside table. Something falls to the floor with a slap! and my tired eyes follow curiously.

“What was that? I didn’t have anything on the table last night,” I yawn, my feet falling onto the carpet. “Huh?” I exclaim with wonder, falling to my knees and picking up the pile of books, the very same stack that Harry shredded to pieces last night. Questions roll through my head and no answers come as I flip through the pages that are just like before, not even a page tear in sight. “This is really weird . . Am I still dreaming?” I mumble. Something tells me to lift my head and when I look at the wall, there sits my Hello Kitty clock with her arms telling me the time, ticking along just fine. 

Huffing, I glance back to the books but they’re forgotten when I see a piece of paper on the floor. Wait, that wasn’t there before, was it? I never wrote a note or colored last night before bed. Reaching a hand out, I pick it up and find that this morning can only get weirder, and weirder. 

“If only I could read you, because I bet you’re from Harry, and then all of this silliness would make sense to me,” I huff, stashing the note in my side table’s drawer and trudging downstairs, wondering what to expect tonight from the monster under my bed who signs his notes with a really bad drawing of a monster.

[whumpiary]

#15 from this prompt list, requested by @mildly-distressed-bee-with-knees​. this spiralled into something entirely else so i very much hope you’re not disappointed!

(also a special mention to @ashintheairlikesnow who, upon me making a vague post about whether to make this spicy or plottish she responded with the galaxy brain concept of “both?????”. thank u!)

[content warnings: starvation/food and hunger talk, implied drugging, intimate whumper, and strong strong dubcon (fade-to-black). stay safe!]

-

“I’m so hungry”

“I know, darling boy, that’s by design”

Cassius almost gives up straight away at the dismissal. He doesn’t want to argue. He doesn’t want to fight. To be honest, all he really wants to do is bring his hand up to touch the sleeve of Christopher’s cotton pullover, see if it’s as soft as it looks. Christopher never dresses formally when he’s not entertaining. He doesn’t need to. But the fabric is pretty and still probably more expensive than anything Cassius has ever owned and it looks so so soft.

And then the empty aching in his belly sends another fit of dizzy through his head and even though he’s already sitting he steadies himself against the carpet with two flat hands and reminds himself what he’s meant to be doing. 

“I want something to eat,” he says through gritted teeth, begging his voice to sound demanding “Give me something to eat”

“Have another chocolate Cassius”

“Don’t want another fuckin’ cho-”

A hand grabs him fast by the jaw, squeezing either side of his slack jaw until his lips pucker like a fish, the inside of his cheeks biting into his teeth.

“Language,” Christopher says, lowering his face to be eye to eye with his charge. Cass scowls but lets his head be lifted as Christopher’s hand slides down, holding him softly by the chin. Cassius doesn’t push away the hand or pull back like he normally might. He’s dizzy. His limbs are heavy. His head’s full of fog and stardust.

“You said you were hungry,” Christopher says, his thumb tracing lightly down Cassius’ jaw, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like another chocolate?" 

There’s the sound of crepe paper fluttering against tin foil, and Cassius’ eyes slide down, trying to focus uselessly on the burgundy tin being offered towards him. The chocolates lie in a pretty spiral; individually wrapped, intricately patterned, glistening like stars in the soft light. Cassius lifts an absent hand, barely aware of how his fingers dance along the edge of the tin, as though coaxing a wine glass to sing. It would be so easy to just pick one up and out, unwrap the pretty golden foil and let it fall to the floor, lift it to his lips and… Christopher shakes the box again impatiently and Cassius jerks his hand back with a start. The rustling seems to meet his ears half a beat too late. He blinks as his mind comes back to him.

"Are they your chocolates or mine?” Cass asks, looking up to the man at the  desk.

“Does it matter?”

Cass tries for a glare but his eyes won’t focus on anything solid, the soft light blurring and crystallising in front of his eyes. He gives up, letting his eyes drift, instead. Across the stubbled jaw, a little too softened by age to be chiseled. Across greying blonde hair, just long enough to show a wave. Across hazel eyes, almost pretty, framed by crows feet and laugh lines. Was Christopher attractive once, maybe? When he was younger? Is he still? Cassius can’t see it anymore. He can’t remember if he ever could. 

“Yes or no, Cassius?” Christopher prompts, voice hard with impatience.

“I want dinner”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘No thank you, Christopher’”

“The words I’m looking for you banned last week”

The older man sighs deeply, seemingly exasperated, and puts the lid back in place with a hard snap, “Fine”

Cassius regrets saying no as soon as the chocolates are out of sight. His stomach lurches again, clenching around the nothing it keeps ruthlessly trying to digest. He leans his head against the leg of the desk as a fresh wave of dizziness hits him, and he squeezes his eyes shut. His head aches,  just a little, a constant pressure across the front and down the sides of his neck. He probably needs water too. But the whiskey from earlier quenched him enough that he doesn’t feel thirsty anymore. 

“I want dinner,” he repeats. Christopher’s hand slams down flat on the desk, enough to make his glass jump, landing with a little small tink. It’s a warning. A… firm suggestion.

“Enough, Cassius,” Christopher says, voice quiet, carefully level “You are in my house, and you will eat when I say you can eat”

“I just want food. I’m so hungry I can’t even think”

“Why don’t you ask me nicely, Cassius? Maybe I’ll change my mind”

Cass almost growls, almost bares his teeth like an animal and launches himself at Christopher’s face. Instead he clenches his jaw, listening to his own teeth grind together. He hates when Christopher does this. He hates having to perform like a show dog. But if it’s the line Christopher’s told him to toe. If it’s the trick that will earn him food…

“Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜi-" 

"Uh, uh, uh. Careful. There are a lot of somethings in this room I could give you to eat,” he says, turning away from his work to look down at the boy on the floor next to him "All sorts of horrible, sickness inducing things. I’m sure that’s not you’re asking for”

“Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ғᴏᴏ-”

“Are you certain that’s what you want?” he says, cupping Cassius’ chin in his hand again “The only food I have here is in that tin”

He wraps his knuckles on the ornate lid of the chocolate box. A sharp double tap. And Cass does growl then, does bare his teeth, tearing his head out of Christopher’s grip. He sits up on his knees and for a moment he doesn’t feel the nausea from the movement or the weight of the fog in his head as he fights.

“Why won’t you feed me?”

“Why won’t you ask me nicely?”

“I’ve been nice”

Christopher smiles, eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. He pushes out from the desk and leans back in his chair.

“Have you?” he asks, voice playful and teasing.

Even through the fog in his head, and the weight of his bones, and the sparkling of the light behind Christopher’s head that keeps dragging at his attention, Cassius feels a horrifying thrill surge through him at the shift of the energy in the room.

This was Christopher’s favourite new game, Cassius had realised over the last few weeks. Finding a particularly enticing opportunity for something interesting to happen and then clearing the stage so he could watch the events unfold. No direction. No orders. Just interest in what Cassius will do. Like opening your front door nice and wide, just to see if your guest will walk through the threshold without needing to be invited in. 

Cassius knows the rules of this game. He knows how to win this game. 

He props himself up, unsteady but upright, and reaches forward, a hand on either one of Christopher’s knees. Easy smile.

“I could always be nicer,” he says, voice low, looking up through his lashes. He lets his hands curl just enough around Christopher’s thighs, running up towards the belt of his jeans and then back. “If that’s what you want”

Christopher tilts his head back, keeping eye contact, parting his lips in a little sigh. Open the door. Extended invite. See how far the guest will walk past the threshold.

“You tell me, Cassius. Is that what I want?”

Cassius pulls himself up, taking advantage of the way the dizziness tilts him forward until he’s sitting on the Christopher’s lap in a lazy straddle. This kind of want is one of the easiest to feel. Base. Simple. Uncomplicated and animal. Even through the fog in Cassius’ head, continuously tilting the world off its axis, it is so so easy. Like sliding a key into its corresponding lock. He loops his arms around the older man’s neck, his face splitting in a relaxed grin as he finds the threads of Christopher’s wants, pulsing like the bass notes of a song, tangling with his own.

Darling boy- just move in to the- hope he does that thing with his tong- so hungr- when the left- darling darling boy- food give me food give me food give me- fucking delicious

Cassius plants a kiss on the corner of Christopher’s jaw. The mess in his head feels less like fog and more like a cloud he can ride higher and higher.

“I think you want it very much, sir” he sats, lips grazing against the older man’s jaw as he drops his voice low. Christopher tuts his tongue, his hands tensing along the small of Cassius’ back. 

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that”

“But you like what I do to you when I call you that,” Cass murmurs, letting his teeth find Christopher’s earlobe, letting his hips roll closer still. The older man lets out a low hum of agreement and Cassius laughs, nuzzling into the vibrations of his throat. Christopher’s hands find his waist, his thumbs lifting his shirt just slightly, running light little lines over his skin. Cassius keens at the touch and Christopher lets out a soft chuckle.

“You enjoy this too much, darling boy”

Cassius’ breath only hitches for a fraction of a moment. His hands don’t falter at all. He leans in, pressing soft lips to Christopher’s and letting a low groan fall into his mouth. Cassius does enjoy this. He has to enjoy it. It’s safer to enjoy it. Easier. There’s no space for shame or guilt or fear or questioning when he enjoys it. Just focus and pleasure and want. He’s not going to let it anything else in now.

“I still might not feed you,” the older man murmurs against his skin “You understand that, don’t you?”

Cassius smiles leaning his head back as Christopher’s hands run up to wrap carefully around his throat. He sinks into Christopher – into his body and into his thoughts – like this is the only thing he could want in the world. Not food. Not rest. Not freedom. And falling back into the fog, back into the echo of Christopher’s wants pressing into his head, back into that space in Cassius’ mind where survival locks in and takes over, that’s almost true. 

“And you haven’t even mentioned Chook”

Cassius tries to pretend the skip of his heart, the flip of his stomach is just arousal, just excitement. 

“If I didn’t know any better,” Christopher says, his thumbs running over the younger man’s Adam’s apple “I’d say you’re starting to like this”

Cass closes his eyes, breathing into the tension of the hands at his throat. It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters. He lets the fog wrap around him, lets Christopher’s wants flood him so much they may as well be his own. 

So good when he- intoxicati- darling b- that throat is made for-

"Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ”

Christopher groans low in his throat as his hands drift down Cassius’ chest, mindlessly reaching for the box beside him. He runs his mouth against the length of Cassius’ throat as he unwraps the sweet for him.

“God I love it when you do that”

[lyricaldissonance]

Me: *does something to improve myself, is feeling optimistic*

My Brain: You're trash and it's cute you're trying to pretend to be likeable. These people are only being nice to you because they don't know how bad you suck yet. You're going to fuck this up the same way you ruin every good thing you've ever had, because you're a miserable failure who is only likeable when you're trying to act like you're a person capable of consistently maintaining competence and decency for any real length of time. And the reason why you can't is because you really aren't either of those things because otherwise it wouldn't take all of your effort just to be fucking normal and exist without constantly burdening everyone around you.

Mental illness is so cool, wow

But yeah, the reason why I avoid employment is because I'm lazy, not because I view it as a painful reminder of my inability to function in society unless I go so hard I break out in hives every day and lose the will to live even when my job isn't the hardest or most stressful and I still can barely pay my bills. Because apparently being a baseline functional person is so stressful that it takes everything I have, and that just further drives home the point that I'm weak and disgusting and useless and maybe people who find existing so hard shouldn't exist at all.

Hahahahahahahaha

I love my new job and everyone seems to genuinely like me but I'm so scared of fucking things up that it's like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I literally don't know how to not feel like an imposter. At least 70% of my stress could be relieved if I wasn't poor and in debt because of my own mania and impulsivity and unable to do anything about it or willing to ask for help because my mom gave me 3k and I still did this shit to myself AGAIN and I can't even tell you how or why, and I'm just so ashamed at this point that I can't ask for help and it's never going to get better. It's no one's fault but my own but I can't fix it and I've been treading water for years and I'm just tired. But I can't help myself because I can't ever repay someone else so I refuse to ask for outside assistance because I already live in a constant cycle of self-perpetuating guilt that feeling even more indebted to others isn't helpful.

Being "smart" fucking sucks unless you hit the nature/nurture lottery. Like wow, how cool it is I can write this little post exploring my diseased mental state, but it 0 percent helps me to feel better or enacts any kind of directly helpful changes, so self awareness can suck my dick. I'm just another someone with an emotionally toxic upbringing who grew into an emotionally stunted adult with a poor sense of self worth who may've won a junior high spelling bee once or written a story that other tasteless rubes liked. I'm not special and now I sure as hell never will be.

What is even the fucking point. Sometimes I wish I were suicidal or more of a moron who isn't regretting the egregiously offensive former half of this sentence. Intelligence is honestly a burden to me sometimes and it's so fucking sad because sometimes I really like myself and think I'm a good person but I'm not good at making money and I guess that's all that matters.

It's funny that my life went downhill after I tried to go to college. 5 years of savings evaporated before my eyes in a single semester of formal education that has yet to give me any material benefit in life, and all of the elders who blew sunshine up my "gifted" ass who told me higher education was my golden ticket shut the fuck up real fast, and also blamed everything on my lack of dedication.

I just feel robbed. And I'm "mature" enough to know that assigning blame won't solve anything. But I've had this destructive thought process/manner of coping with things for so long that, in the absence of any healthy reinforcement that no one owes me (and that I absolutely am too proud to ask for because, well, see aforementioned), I don't know how to proceed. I'm tired of compartmentalizing myself, but time and again, I've been shown that attempting to be seen is even more dangerous because you usually just make yourself vulnerable to people who then deliberately misunderstand you and try to make it your fault or act like you tricked them. As if pretending to be an untroubled, likeable person is a more malicious act than the messy atrocity that is your real personality that. . . Oh yeah, immediately just makes you "crazy" and even more unlikeable.

The one thing I learned from my childhood is that keeping the fragile peace was paramount, even if it was at the expense of denying the truth, because poking holes through someone else's carefully constructed reality was of more concern than the people who were hurt by their actions. Addict Stan 101, amirite? A family intervention was actually staged against me about how I should care less regarding my dad's drinking and the resulting emotional abuse because it was selfish to make it "all about me".

So now I view myself as the discarded piece of beach trash I was raised to. I guess everyone just assumes value is inherent, when you don't know to care about it until someone makes you aware based on their own biased set of metrics. I'm intelligence with no purpose, because my diseased brain and developmentally stunted ass couldn't hack the one advantage I was given to my own advantage. I'm literally a masturbatory fantasy.

All the people who raised me are flawed human beings with their own demons who really didn't mean it. But I can still be impotently mad. I didn't ask to be brought into this world.

Something was wrong with me. A really common, explainable thing, as it turns out. But of course, smart girls don't have problems. Mental illness is for parodical freaks tied up in straightjackets. There are starving kids in Africa. Do you really have it that bad?

So I learned to conflate my own personality and sense of self with my neurodivergence and now I'm 30 and I have such a tenuous sense of self-confidence that I literally just cosplay whatever version of me people like best from a capitalist perspective.

Haha jk. Sike, I'm a hyperemotional reactive and I will go off for everything, nothing, and all inbetween, even though I'm very chill and the things that set me off are on no one's radar. Just usually not in a way you can immortalize on TikTok. I used to apologize for having an emotional response, because I used to prize myself on being a robot, but as it turns out, I'm just a big stupid tsundere and no one cares how tough you look if the only person you're hurting is yourself.

I lost touch with the narrative.

Apparently I wrote this while wine drunk. Hm.

It's weird how suddenly I can turn to self loathing when I feel like things are getting better and I'm doing ok. I'm just starting to ignore things again and I don't want to let it spiral out of control again. I'm so feckless that I'm not sure how I manage to survive as an adult sometimes.

[chaoticgeminate]

Recover

As a thank you for the AMAZING response I got to Exposed, as well as a few questions on why I chose certain things to happen, I have now written the companion piece that comes through Adrien’s perspective through a majority of it.

Like Exposed this contains:

Minor Class Salt Minor Ladyblog Salt Minor Alya Salt MAJOR Lila Salt Adrinette Fluff Supportive Gorilla (I have named him Leonard and I stand for him as the one true Adrien parent canonically) Supportive Gabriel Agreste (reasons exist, but will not be explored here, you may speculate) Supportive Dupain and Cheng parents (when aren’t they) Mentions of birds and bees talk (*gigglesnort*)

[AO3]

Adrien had been on a three-day trip to Marseille when Lila struck, a fact that tore at him and led to more guilt festering within him, the liar had been prepared and was waiting for Marinette's only ally to be gone. "I should have done something sooner." His knuckles gripped the strap of his carry-on as he read the barrage of posts in the Class Chat, unsure of whether he wanted to even reply to these at the moment. A notification about a new meme on Catbug News was lost to a flood of Ladyblog notifications, his guilt spiking to an all-time high as Alya very savagely slammed Tom and Sabine's.

From his current place, getting ready to head back to Paris, he couldn't do much; he couldn't transform and go throwing himself across France to find out the whole truth, especially since Marinette wasn't answering her phone.

Why would she? I abandoned her?

Plagg's claws pressed into his shoulder and Adrien scrambled to follow his bodyguard as they went to board the train, Leonard didn't seem too concerned with the distraction and instead cleared his throat once they sat down. "You good, kid?" Adrien was reminded of the very few times he'd ever heard the Gorilla speak, always deep and rumbly, usually it was one or two words.

"Not really." He wanted to curl up and hide, or explode and scream how unfair this was to the rooftops, Adrien's brain and body at ends with how to process and unpack his emotions without looking like a mental case.

Leonard's hand settled on Adrien's head and the man shifted so he could squeeze Adrien's shoulder instead, gently of course but firm enough to help ground the boy. "Talk me through it, kid, you look close to fainting." Adrien's mouth opened and closed a moment, it was the most he'd ever heard his bodyguard say, it was the first time any of the adults in his life had wanted to hear his thoughts on anything.

Adrien hesitated but Leonard was patient, not taking back his request and instead just watching. "You remember Lila," This made Leonard scowl and nod, letting out a deep sigh that Adrien could practically feel in his bones. "and you know my friend Marinette, or you've seen her at least. She wears her hair in cute pigtails and-" Adrien flushed and stopped himself, but Leonard's scowl had faded to a calm expression.

Plagg, who had already shifted his hiding place, vibrated in Adrien's pocket out of contained snickers. "Marinette knows Lila is making stories up to impress the others and get out of doing work, she tried to call her out on it before, but since they were all just stupid tall tales I had thought Lila would have been figured out by now. Spoiler alert, she wasn't, and now she's framed Marinette and gotten her expelled a second time." Leonard's brow furrowed and the man retracted his hand to cross his arms, Adrien realized that he hadn't exactly told his bodyguard about that event either.

"The first time Lila planted the answer sheet for our geography test in Marinette's backpack, Madam Bustier called Marinette out in front of everyone, but Marinette always has high grades and especially in geography she does better than I do. But Marinette accused Lila when the latter said something, which got them both sent to the Principal's office. Lila then accused Marinette of pushing her down the stairs and saying that it was bullying, that Marinette stole her grandmother's pendant, the Principal expelled her on the spot." Adrien squeezed his hands until his knuckles hurt, he'd let her down even though he had tried, his ultimatum with Lila wasn't going to protect her.

Hearing the rumbling noise from his bodyguard, seeing Leonard watching him fairly intently, Adrien canted his head. "Sounds to me like no proper investigation was done, aside from investigating Lila's two claims of theft. No CCTV footage, no asking the staff about their observations between the two, or even getting in touch with the parent's privately. Not sure since I don't know law that well, kid, but seems like that teacher and Principal of yours are blatantly ignoring protocol." Adrien stared at the man, what else could he do, the fact that there should have been more done -that hadn't been done- was both a relief and another added stress point.

Leonard shifted to slouch, elbows on his knees with his palms pressed together, it put the tall man a little closer to eye-level with Adrien. "Kid, I'm going to guess you said you'd be there for Marinette since you both knew Lila was faking everything, that you didn't want to rock the boat because of how often akuma pop up." Adrien's throat felt tight and his eyes burned as he nodded, unable to even come up with a reply, it had felt like the right thing to do at the time.

"I'm not going to lecture you, kid, it won't do much more than make you feel worse. You made a choice in that moment, what you have to do is learn from that choice, your friend trusted you enough to let her own feelings on the matter go. What you have to do now is follow through with your choice to be there for her, regardless of the consequences, or her trust was misplaced. You're a good kid, Adrien, you wear your heart on your sleeve and that's okay too; if someone hurts you, or your friends, you are allowed to be angry and upset. You are allowed to want to help no matter what your Father says, you can't live in his shadow forever and he won't be there to make all your choices for you, there are some things you need to do for yourself."

Leonard took a long sip of water and Adrien felt the burning in his eyes grow before he squeezed them shut, trying not to burst into tears while on a very public train, but his body won out and Adrien managed to at least quiet himself so he didn't make a scene. Once he was cried out the teen spent the rest of the ride scrolling through the class chat to figure out what happened, since Mari still wasn't answering her phone or texts, even as an admittedly petty idea formed in his head and wouldn't go away.

By the time they had reached Paris there had been a return fire from Nadja Chamak and TVi, as well as the numerous loyal patrons of Tom and Sabine's, Adrien had the day off from school since he had gotten back so late and took advantage of that. After asking to be left alone until dinner, which wasn't something he knew would be a problem with his Father and Nathalie involved in a video conference with a fabric supplier, the teen found himself heading right for the TVi studio.

Nadja Chamak practically flew out of her skin when he entered the recording room, Aurore was prepping for her first major story and he was glad to have caught them. "Chat Noir? Is there an akuma?" The reporter was probably expecting it, along with all of Paris, but they'd been lucky so far.

"No, Madam Chamak. I wanted to make a public statement against the Ladyblog, on a factual source of news, since Ladybug hasn't done so yet. We don't tolerate tabloids and slander against reputable businesses and good people." The bite in his voice was present and Nadja seemed to relax, gesturing to have him seated across from Aurore at an interview setting instead of a news table.

He listened to the student reporter as she started, cameras trained on her calm expression as she blatantly called the Ladyblog out for slander and the staff at Françios Dupont for power abuse and an inability to follow board mandated protocol. It was only after he managed to reign in his temper, insult Alya and the school, that he found himself on a rooftop panicking because Ladybug was going to murder him. Even admitting he'd met Marinette was a very stupid, risky, and dangerous thing with Hawkmoth on the loose.

He'd just put a target on her back, worse than anything Lila could have done to her, and he very nearly broke his foot kicking a wall. He had to talk with Ladybug first before he risked visiting Marinette, let the hype die down so he wasn't caught showing up on her balcony in the suit, it sucked but Hawkmoth couldn't know how close they were.

By the time Ladybug had shown up the hero was done trying to beat himself up, physically at least, and his ears jolted upright as his tail went still the moment she hugged him. It was a long hug, like longer than usual, but the moment it registered just what she'd done the heroine threw herself away from him and looked something between cross and flustered. "For Marinette." She had said, which really went to show how important the designer was to Ladybug if she was willing to hug him that long as a show of thanks.

"I purr-omise to stop by and see her, when it's safe since I already was a jackass and put a target on her back today. I was just so- Ladybug I was so angry; she doesn't deserve this." He mussed up his hair and paced, slouched shoulders combined with a runway walk made it look like a big cat slinking around.

He heard the soft sniffle. "No, she doesn't, but it's okay that you defended her. I think now more than ever she needs to be reminded who she has in her corner, yea?" There was something in her expression that was soft and fond, but lurking behind it was the glint that she usually got when thinking how to take down an akuma. "Let's get patrol out of the way, Chat, I would like to back up your statement earlier and talk with Aurore tonight." His heart swelled that she wasn't going to make him do this alone, but why would she? Ladybug had never failed to support him, even if she'd never really reciprocated his feelings she was still his very best friend.

All he could do was purr noisily and nod as he grabbed his baton. "Thanks, Bug." He earned a smile before they split up and his chest felt lighter knowing that Ladybug was going to give her public support too. He knew he couldn't go see Marinette for a few days, in or out of the mask, but maybe by then she would be able to accept his apology for not doing something sooner.

[Marinette, I am so sorry! I got caught up on the class chat on the last day of the shoots when we were leaving, I didn't think this would happen and I'll do whatever I have to in order to make things right. I know you probably hate me and I understand why, I'm sorry that I didn't have your back and wanted to handle her the way Father taught me to handle tabloids. I didn't think it would ever get this bad and I really messed up, Mari.]

He'd woken up to a text from Marinette, his first one since the incident, and while it didn't take all the guilt from him there was an acknowledgement to his apology.

[I don't blame you for this, Adrien, though I hope you see why I wanted to get the others at least skeptical of her before this. I'll admit that before her first attempt at getting me expelled it wasn't a bad idea to just let her expose herself, but once she targeted me then I should have said something instead of being afraid you'd be disappointed in me.]

A break of five minutes lingered between this and the next message.

[Don't go into school rampaging and chewing the others out, don't bring that on yourself, my parents are on my side this time and the board is involved.]

Adrien still felt guilty, he still felt angry, but he trusted Marinette and her family; he was going to support them however he could, even if it meant giving his friends the cold shoulder. Which made him wonder if they even really were his friends, would they have trusted him more or less than Marinette if he tried to call Lila out?

[I can't go in there and be smiles and sunshine after what they did to you, Mari, but I'll avoid confrontation for you.]

[Thank you, Adrien.]

His drive to school was silent as Adrien spent some time looking into what he could that might help Marinette's case against the school and maybe a case directly against Lila, his bodyguard said nothing as they pulled up to the street as his classmates defended her from the various other students who knew and trusted Marinette. TVi's return fire had left a huge mark and his statement as well as Ladybug's had turned Alya's blog sideways in a night.

"Adrien, please make them stop!" Lila's loud cry made him freeze in place and turn his head to look at her, the rest of his class wore similar pleading expressions, but he wasn't going to stay quiet. He wouldn't scream or spit fire, not yet at least, but Adrien was done with playing stupid.

Channeling his Father's most potent dead stare, shoulders tense, the model made sure to look right at her. "Marinette is my friend, someone who is very important to me, I know she didn't do what she was accused of and I'll believe her over you every time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've missed enough class." Adrien turned and stalked inside, nearly throwing Aurore when the reporter came up and looped her arms around one of his.

He did jerk in surprise but she had a surprisingly good amount of balance and strength to not stumble. "That was amazing, Adrien, thank you for standing up for Marinette like that. If they give you any trouble at all just let me know and I'll make sure to include it in the PSA on CatBug News. Someone is going to wind up akumatized and I'd rather Paris be as aware as they can." Aurore's tone was firm, proud too, which served to further his opinion of the former weather girl.

He offered her a smile, at least the best he could manage right now, before pausing at the classroom door. "Thanks, Aurore, I should be okay but I'll keep you updated. Ladybug and Chat Noir definitely picked the best person to be their go to for news." Aurore preened and thanked him with a grin before heading to her own class, Adrien took his seat and got out his books, not bothering to pretend to be the dutiful student as he brought out his phone to tell Marinette what he'd done and said to the class. Nino was the first to walk in, though Adrien could hear the others whispering outside the door.

He was glad, though, since it meant less time before their teacher appeared that he'd have to listen to them if they stayed out there. "Dude?" Adrien set his phone down but didn't bother turning his head or saying anything. "I know you have this whole 'see the good in people' thing but Lila has photo evidence that Mari burned her homework. Like, she took it herself when she realized what was happening, there's no arguing that." This made Adrien tense up, gripping his textbook tightly, two things crossed his mind in that moment as the rage burned through him for how far Lila was willing to go.

But he did level Nino with a look. "Photoshop exists, Nino, I'm a model and I get to watch them edit out any 'flaws' from a shoot. I still stand by what I said, I believe Marinette over Lila and I always will, if you can't deal with that I'll move seats but I'm not going to hear anything else about it." His friend took his seat and the rest of the class walked in without a word, though Kim and Alix did shoot him dirty looks, he didn't really care now.

"Alright, class, we've got a lot to cover."

Madam Bustier looked pale, shadows under her eyes, the vengeful little part of Adrien was pleased.

Without a reporter in sight, now that night had fallen, the hero landed gently on the balcony and made sure there were no cameras or pedestrians that saw him before he tapped on the skylight. Marinette looked up and opened the latch, though he did hesitate because he'd never seen the redness in her eyes that she had now, a rumble of thunder in the distance made him drop down so his knees hit the bed first. "Uh, hi Princess, I wanted to check on you; Ladybug pointed out-" Slender arms wrapped around his body and her wail muted whatever else he'd planned to say, he tensed up momentarily before relaxing as she cried into his suit, his hand rubbing her back.

He hadn't been prepared for his own breakdown, though, her grief only seemed to make the guilt swell within him until they were both a crying mess. Having her comfort him wasn't the plan but he did feel so much better once he was able to cry, even if it still sucked, and hearing her compliment him out of the suit was enough to make him feel better too. But something made him curious, based on the photos on her walls and the tone of her voice, it wasn't the same tone she used when talking about any of her other friends or even Luka. It was very similar to him when he used to talk about Ladybug.

Having the chance to maybe get a direct answer he prodded a little about her relationship with Adrien, he did not expect to learn that his friend liked him. As in wanted to hold his hand, go on dates, kiss, and cuddle; he couldn't control the high-pitched sound that escaped him or the way his face erupted into a blotchy mess of red. Hearing her recount their disastrous meeting, hearing her so fondly tell him that she'd fallen for him when he sought out to fix her mistake despite how he didn't have to, was like a curtain being drawn back to her stutter and general panic around him.

When he confirmed, not that she knew it, he wouldn't ever reject her and find it too awkward to even want to be her friend -because who wouldn't want to be her friend- the feline now understood all those times Nino and Alya would ditch them when they went out. Hearing that Alya tried to brute force them together, despite knowing Marinette wasn't ready, only lowered his already low opinion of the girl he'd once thought to be cool.

Once he was safely in his room, after he managed to get Marinette into bed and asleep, he looked at Plagg as the Kwami snagged his cheese. "Plagg, Marinette likes me." The cat looked at him and made a gesture along the lines of 'I would hope so?' before shoving camembert into his mouth. "Not like- I mean she wants to date me; she wants to hold my hand in a non-platonic way." The Kwami swallowed the bite he'd taken and sighed.

"Not new news, kid, why do you think all your classmates kept trying to shove the two of you together? They were all pairing up and she was hardly subtle about it." Adrien's gut lurched at Plagg's statement, he had suspected but she never had said anything, even when he asked she made up excuses. Honestly it was confusing and she hadn't exactly denied liking Luka either, nor had she mentioned past crush on Chat Noir.

He just wanted answers. "Why didn't she say anything? Why did she try to hide it?" But he knew the answer and couldn't acknowledge it, she was terrified of rejection and losing him, he would've tried to let her down easily but she would have still been hurt. "Plagg, what do I do?" He had tried giving Ladybug up and going on a few dates with Kagami but it hadn't worked, he had to break it off with Kagami already.

But Ladybug didn't want him, she'd said it numerous times, Adrien knew exactly what he'd be putting Marinette through if he thought he was over Ladybug and tried dating when he wasn’t. "You have to make a choice. You can pretend you don't know, chase the Bug, and maybe there'll be a slim chance she chooses you but it's unlikely. Or you can acknowledge what she said, can you picture yourself being happy with pigtails?" Adrien didn't even need to hesitate on that one, of course he could, Marinette was incredible.

"Easily, she's so kind and compassionate, Marinette really genuinely loves with everything and-" His ramble was cut off as he realized what he'd said, what he was feeling, his eyes widened and the blush returned full force. "Plagg, I think I like Marinette." He sat down on his bed and felt that creeping warmth spread down his neck, his ears felt hot as he thought of the sunny smiles and kind actions she was known for, even more so warmer than when he thought of Ladybug.

Plagg hummed and then disappeared, dropping into the trashcan, Adrien looked up at his Father when the door opened. "Adrien, are you alright?" The model nodded and then immediately shook his head, groaning as he buried his face in his hands.

How embarrassing. "I don't know, I just found out that Marinette likes me, but I can't- I like her too but I don't know if things would work between us and-" He couldn't exactly tell his Father that he liked Ladybug, it would be silly and no doubt the man would remark it was a passing fancy, nor did he think his Father would care about Adrien's potential romantic relationships aside from making sure they didn't tarnish the business.

A hand landed on Adrien's back and his Father hesitated before sitting down. "Miss Dupain-Cheng?" This made Adrien nod and turn his head to look at his Father's expression, it was oddly soft compared to his usually blank face. "Why do you think it wouldn't work?" Adrien blinked and then cleared his throat; he had not expected this.

"Honestly? She's liked me since our second day of school, after I gave her my umbrella, I never even noticed. How can I say I like her if I never noticed how she felt for me? How do I know I'm not just reacting to her confession? What if I mess up so bad that she doesn’t want to be friends?" Though she hadn't meant to confess to him at all, she said it to Chat Noir, so how could he just swoop in and claim the Princess without even being remotely obvious?

Hearing his father hum in consideration, a sound he was used to before runways, felt strange here. "You gave her your mother's umbrella? You must have wanted her to think highly of you, not even Nathalie was allowed to handle it." Adrien's world spun at that revelation, his mother's umbrella from her movie Solitude was nestled in Marinette's room, he hadn't even made the connection and the rush of feelings mingled with guilt for his lapse in memory of his mother.

How could he admit that to his Father? "I want this to work." He did, Adrien wanted it to work with every fiber of his being, Ladybug had someone and Adrien found a girl who liked all of him even if she didn't know it yet. He found an incredible, kind, loving, girl with a heart of gold and a backbone of steel. Every second the idea lingered in his head was another second that he could truly see himself being able to get over Ladybug as long as Marinette was by his side.

He was pulled into a hug and Adrien relished in the gesture. "It will work, you just have to be honest with her, talk to her before you come home for lunch tomorrow." But that was just it, this wasn't waiting at school or stealing moments between classes, he had to go to her house to do that.

Adrien bit back his fears. "Father, she was framed for some crime by Lila and expelled without proper procedure being followed, I have to help her and I don't know how." He had a man who was used to dealing with a media circus, who had experience with teenage drama and people abusing their positions, Adrien had access to help and he wasn't going to fail Marinette again.

"Tell me everything."

He did, Adrien told his Father every scrap of the story from the Volpina incident and up to the most recent development, he threw his own apologies in for eavesdropping and stealing the book but made sure he mentioned Lila's constant unwanted touches and her akumatizations. "I'll have to get in touch with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng's parents, as I refuse to allow that girl to get no punishment for sexual harassment, but they can sue for unlawful photography. As it is illegal to take photographs without consent, especially of a minor." Hearing this made Adrien's heart swell, he could pass that information on, there was hope.

But a glance at the clock indicated it was late, he had to sleep now, but he'd see Marinette tomorrow. Adrien thanked his Father and earned a second hug, getting ready for bed and laying down before he got wound up again, he would make sure to talk to Marinette tomorrow.

If the cold shoulder treatment was supposed to hurt his feelings, his classmates hadn’t even glanced at him today, then it wasn’t working at all. Madam Bustier looked worse off today than she had the day before, the investigation was in full swing and everything was being pulled into the open, Adrien could only imagine just how badly she and the school were being torn up for their lack of protocol. “Alright, class, I’ll see you after lunch.” As he traded his books out Adrien frowned when Lila leaned heavily against the locker beside his, eyes narrowed in anger and lips curled into a sneer, she’d certainly timed it well enough to be alone with him.

“You made a mistake, Adrien. You think getting her expelled is the worst I can do to that self-righteous pushover? With parents in the food business it’s far too easy to get the health department involved, you can fall back in line and be my boyfriend or that little shack of theirs will be shut down.” Lila’s words were spoken softly and dripping with venom, he was glad that she was done faking the cute act with him, because she didn’t see what he did; from the mirror on his locker wall he could see Nathaniel and Juleka staring from their place behind him.

Adrien’s tall frame masked the pair of them, along with the door of his locker, from Lila knowing they were there. “You really think threatening me is going to get you what you want? Unfortunately for you Lila, especially with Ladybug and Chat Noir supporting Marinette and her family, it’s over. I hope you’re prepared; you built that tower of lies really high and it’s coming down fast, Lila.” He closed his locker and moved back, allowing Lila to see Juleka and Nathaniel wearing incredulous looks that morphed into disgust.

Panic filled her expression briefly before she stormed by them, no doubt going to destroy their reputations, but Adrien wasn’t too concerned. “Shit.” Hearing Nathaniel curse was rare but hearing that from Juleka was a surprise, especially since she wasn’t mumbling any longer, the two whipped out their phones as Adrien walked by them. He had to see Marinette, he had to talk to her about the lawsuit, Adrien was already rushing over to the bakery with an apology to Leonard.

“Hello Adrien, Marinette is upstairs in her room.” He thanked Sabine and rushed up the steps to the apartment, alarm on his phone set as a precaution, taking the steps up to Marinette’s room as Sabine called out that he was here. He stared at the back ears that were standing up on a hood, blanket wrapped around her bottom half, the onesie was cute and Adrien felt his face warming up again. “Hey Marinette!” He almost panicked, had that been too chipper? What if she realized he knew something and figured him out?

Her surprised shriek was kind of cute but he had to lunge forward to catch her before she could hit the floor, watching the rosiness grow in her cheeks as she stared at him, making sure to help her back to her feet and keep his hands on her shoulders for a fast grab if she fell again. But in his glance down he realized she was wearing a Chat Noir onesie, the waist had a fabric belt tail and the feet were like paws with the gray ends like his boots. He couldn’t help but interrupt her ramble, seeing that she was getting anxious, by squeezing her shoulders and then pressing one finger to her lips.

Watching her lashes flutter in wide-eyed wonder, watching that look, he ducked his head a little to hopefully hide his own blush. “You’re so cute, Marinette.” Adrien had a brief moment where he could swear there was an airhorn somewhere and shrieking of ‘what the hell was that Agreste’ echoing, as if someone had deafened him and stolen his ability to react, he scrambled to recover something remotely resembling a cool composure.

He managed to blurt out his original message for her, as far as a means of getting back at Lila once and for all, but he hardly expected her to throw herself at him and moved to stabilize her as a reflex. But when she mentioned kissing him it was like his brain short-circuited, his heart was racing as he delivered some sort of line to make her aware that he wouldn’t be opposed to kissing her at all and had no idea what he even said, but whatever it was had her staring at him in wonder and hope and he couldn’t resist.

One her consent was given, because he was not going to push any boundaries, Adrien kissed her; her lips were warm and tasted like berries from whatever chapstick she’d used, their teeth clicked together and he hoped that was he was doing with his tongue was okay. One kiss split and broke into many others, his head was fuzzy and his heart was full and Adrien decided that there was officially nothing better than this. He sprang back from her when his alarm chimed and he felt like a right asshole for having to dash out after that, promising to call her because he wasn’t going to risk her thinking that he didn’t want to commit or something, Plagg snickered as he paused at the bakery.

Sabine was coming up to the apartment, Tom talking with the staff so he could eat lunch with his family, Adrien was glad that both of them were there. “Excuse me, um, I had a question for you both.” Their fond smiles made him hope to all above that he wasn’t going to get a hard rejection from the duo. “If my father allows it, I would like to date Marinette; I really like her and if I have your permission, I would like to take her on a date.” He felt his nerves spike at their momentary silence before Sabine wrapped him in a hug as Tom scooped them both up.

“Of course, Adrien, you’re a sweet boy and one of her very best friends. As long as you treat our daughter right and make sure she’s happy we won’t mind at all.” Their acceptance made him teary eyed as he grinned, thanking them to leave when Leonard texted him, he had to get home since he had a brief Mandarin review over lunch. Rushing inside, telling Nathalie that he needed to talk with his Father and that it was very important and related to Marinette, he ate quickly and began working on his review as he hoped that the sudden attention from his Father would continue.

Hearing the footsteps and then having his Father enter his room, Nathalie joining him too, Adrien forced down his excitement at how he felt with the sudden change. “Father, I kissed Marinette today. I have her parent’s permission to date her and I’d like yours as well, I just- it’s important to me that you’re okay with it as well.” Adrien met his Father’s gaze and found that soft look was back, it earned him another hug and a pat on the head.

“Could you please contact Miss Dupain-Cheng? I would just like to ask her something.”

He started the video call and debated ending it to text her first, acting too late though sine she answered, seeing her with her onesie was still adorable and he felt guilty that she nearly choked on her lunch. He was jealous though since he spied noodles and something like dim sung, his usual diet monitored his carbohydrate intake after all, but Adrien’s confusion bloomed to a full blush as Marinette complimented him in front of his Father. The arranged dinner date was exciting and Marinette’s reaction to her mother’s teasing was even cuter, Adrien wasn’t sure what all needed to be discussed but he was fine with it.

Or he would have been until his Father and Nathalie gave him a crash course on STI’s, contraception, menstrual cycles, and consent.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation, welcome to our home.”

Adrien would have said something but his breath was stolen by the vision of beauty in front of him, his throat felt dry and his face was hot, Marinette’s dress was a short cheongsam paired with round-toe wedges. The base fabric was a darker purple with red and blue peonies printed on it, but she’d added a whole layer of lace over that with its own floral pattern that created an illusion of water color fabric. The skirt came to her knees with a short slits on the both sides, the Mandarin collar had a lighter purple edging and a double sided round front with a single peony shaped pankou on each side, it was gorgeous and Adrien felt like the entire French dictionary had been wiped out of his head as well as half the Chinese dictionary. “Welcome, please come in, may I take your coats?” He rushed closer for something to do, his hands shaking as he accepted the jackets, taking great care with them as he hung them up in the hall closet.

His Father didn’t even hesitate in asking questions. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, I must ask, did you make that yourself?” His eyes scanned the edging, the lace layer, and Adrien was prouder when his Princess nodded as she slowly turned for them with a proud tilt to her head.

“Yes, Monsieur Agreste, I actually made this dress as well as the clothing my parents are wearing and our coats. Maman and Papa are my go-to models and walking advertisements.” Adrien was impressed with the fit of Tom’s button-down since he was a broad-chested man with height, the fact that there were no signs of the fabric being stretched or hanging too loose meant the measurements were exact. Even his Father was nodding as he took in the attire, Adrien knew that everyone had gotten pretty dressed up.

Adrien didn’t stop himself any longer. “You’re incredible, Marinette, those are all very well-made and incredible designs; men’s wear isn’t as flashy but it all depends on the fit, which even some of Father’s staff would have difficulties fitting your Father right due to his shoulders and chest being so broad compared to his hips and legs.” It was why models were all preferred to be slender, so that clothing lines were easier to tailor and fit, the straighter the body and the better chance you had at modeling.

Sabine, who handed off a covered platter to the chef’s assistant, hummed thoughtfully. “Marinette has had years of practice with her Papa’s measurements, most of our clothing is custom made by now and we don’t actually have to buy that much outside things like undergarments.” Adrien stared at Marinette in awe, he’d known she was amazing and tonight proved it but that she even made their casual clothing was more than enough to make him want to melt, he wanted to wear something she designed too.

“Impressive, I look forward to seeing your work in the future, should you have any questions or wish any assistance I will be more than willing to provide such.” Hearing his Father offer that was another shock, everyone had joked about Gabriel the Recluse but Adrien knew the public had a point, few people on his Father’s staff were allowed to even try and discuss help or requests from him. It was like he was looking at a whole different person, the man he’d been prior to his wife going missing a year ago, all Adrien could do was hope that this was going to be permanent.

Soft chiming made them turn, the chef’s assistant bowed at the waist, the door to the dining room open. “The first course of dinner is ready to be served.” Adrien offered his arm to Marinette and she placed a hand into the crook of his elbow as she came to stand beside him, pulling her chair out and ignoring the looks as Tom and Sabine effectively made him sit beside Marinette with his Father at the head of the table on Adrien’s left. He didn’t mind that they allowed him to sit beside his girlfriend, why would he complain?

As the bowls were set down, a wild rice and mushroom soup, Adrien prayed he was mentally prepared for this conversation since he’d been blindsided once already. Their parents kept the topics away from school, mostly skirting it by asking about what Adrien wanted for his future, he’d confessed to not really liking the modeling aspect of fashion but that he didn’t mind doing it because he was good at it and it helped his Father. “Now, I understand Adrien speaks Mandarin?” Sabine looked very much like she had a mischievous idea and Marinette made a soft sound, as if going to protest. “I’ve been teaching Marinette, after she had Adrien help her when my Uncle came to Paris, I’d be more than happy to take over his Mandarin lessons and have him work in the bakery.” Adrien blinked rapidly at that idea, he hadn’t thought to ask to change to a native speaker for Chinese, it wasn’t even a bad idea.

More surprising to him was that his Father was nodding at the suggestion. “In return I can begin having Miss Dupain-Cheng attend his photoshoots outside school hours, I can have a staff member assigned to teach her the management side of the industry, I don’t need to focus on the design or crafting aspects yet as I am impressed with what I have seen thus far.” Their parents were planning them supervised time together, in areas they could work on things they already were doing or wanted to do, and Adrien met Marinette’s eyes as she blushed.

“But we do have to set some rules.” Tom’s stern voice was soft still but it was clear he wanted their attention. “You both have other responsibilities and cannot let your relationship cause you to forget them. Gabriel, would you say eight thirty or nine in the evening as the cut-off for week-day phone curfew?” Adrien hadn’t thought about that one and his Father hummed in thought before looking at them.

“Eight thirty, I think, for a week day. We can discuss if there are extenuating circumstances, though I can’t think of many at the moment; but if those situations arise, they can be handled at the time. Weekends I think extending that time to nine thirty is fair, an extra hour is plenty.” Here was where Marinette’s mother nodded and looked right at them, both Adrien and Marinette nodding in agreement since it was very fair of an agreement.

Adrien was almost afraid to ask. “May I- every other week, may I take Marinette out? Even if it’s for a light brunch or a walk in the park, with Leonard following at a distance?” He would have preferred as often as he could, truthfully, but they were already proving to be willing to extend a bridge and he wanted to meet them in the middle. He couldn’t ask for no bodyguard, that would never happen, but he could ask for distance.

Tom and Sabine shared a look and then looked at his Father, who shared their look and made some gesture with his brows that Adrien didn’t catch, before they nodded in some kind of an agreement. “I think once a week is fair for an unsupervised date, though you will be required to send us a text message when you reach your date location and check in every hour that you are both safe, we will create a group message specifically for check-ins. As well as a code for if you are in trouble but are unable to relay such safely.” Adrien’s chest swelled and Marinette squeezed his hand, their second course arriving as the bowls were cleared away from the table, this was already more than he expected from his Father. He was getting unsupervised dates, once a week, the check-in was no problem at all.

Nathalie whispered something to his Father, Adrien had never quite seen the shade of red on the man’s face before, but whatever it was made him gesture to Tom and Sabine; neither of them reacted quite the same, Tom did sigh reluctantly, it was clear Marinette figured it out though when she squeaked and looked to be seven shades of red. “Alright, so, we’re going to address a very… private subject. If you two decide you want to try being intimate,” Adrien’s ears burned at that and Marinette’s crimson face started matching the purple on her dress. “please tell us first before you try sneaking around. We will make sure you have condoms, birth control, and privacy if you don’t lie to us about it.” This made both teens nod even though Adrien was sure it wasn’t happening any time soon, not that he wasn’t curious about it but he could hardly handle the idea of kissing Marinette at the moment without turning to mush.

“That’s not going to be for a while, we just started dating, but thank you for being open with us about it. I’m not- I wouldn’t ask for anything like that until we were more comfortable with each other, I’m just happy to be able to take her out on dates and show Marinette off.” Adrien wasn’t going to mess this one up, not a relationship with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, if she wasn’t ready then it wasn’t happening and he knew she felt the same way.

Those blue eyes of hers burned with a will of steel. “I’m not planning on doing anything like that right now, though I won’t lie and say I’m not excited at the idea, but we’re still leaning the simple things about one another and throwing that into our relationship now isn’t going to make it a better relationship. Besides, with Adrien being a model and used to people tugging at his clothes and limbs, I’m going to be a little wary of his consent because he didn’t realize he had a right to tell Lila or Chloé to stop grabbing at him until I said something about it.” Adrien had forgotten about that, he hadn’t realized that he could tell them to stop hugging his arm or grabbing at him without it being seen as impolite, it was after a few talks with Marinette about consent and his rights to his body that he started speaking up about it.

Which made sense then that she’d be more cautious to his consent, she would need to figure out when he was really okay with something or just agreeing because he felt like it was normal. Their second course were figs with bacon and a chile sauce, one of Adrien’s favorite things the chef had made for him, their parents accepted what they said and Adrien even earned an apology from his Father in regards to being so lax on explaining consent and his own right to his body to him. They returned to topics like school work, agreeing to one study session at the mansion per week as long as their grades stayed where they were at or improved, while Adrien and Marinette avoided the discussion as much as they could.

When the chef brought out the main course, a seared Chilean sea bass, Adrien realized his Father had gone right for the best options on the chef’s specialty menu and seemed to be looking for approval; he practically fluffed up when Tom and Sabine remarked at how delicious the food was. It was as if his Father was trying to impress them, even sparing looks to Marinette for her opinion on their choice of sides, having opted for roasted green beans and hasselback style mini potatoes with a garlic herb butter rather than their usual honey-glazed brussel sprouts. Adrien met Marinette’s eyes and saw that she also looked as amused at the situation, her parents were delighted and charmed by the normally stern man, Adrien had to wonder how much of this was for show and how much was genuine. Because he’d never seen his Father like this even when his Mother was around, thought he suspected it was just something about the trio of guests because they brought home with them wherever they went.

After clearing the main course away, the dessert was brought to the table, an artfully made dark chocolate and raspberry tart that had the bakery logo done in the center with powdered dried raspberry and the fruits decorating the top. “Marinette was the one to do the decorating, I just made it.” Tom’s grin held a smug pride as Marinette blushed and confirmed his statement with a shy smile, it tasted as amazing as it looked and Adrien was quite frankly in heaven, the rich velvety chocolate contrasted with the tart raspberries and the crust had all the sweetness needed to counter both strong tastes without overwhelming it.

Dessert’s arrival brought on much lighter conversation, branching into Tom and Marinette’s shared bonding over video games and convincing Gabriel to at least watch them play a few rounds of Ultimate Mecha Strike, Sabine didn’t play but she was an excellent cheer leader and Adrien learned she was an instigator between her husband and daughter’s hilarious banter. He watched Marinette as her hands danced on the controller, that she held differently than her Father did, even as Tom alternated between playing the pity card and smart mouthing her.

“Someone kneads to practice.” The emphasis on the word was confusing until Tom’s look was amused annoyance.

His eyes danced. “Whipping out the baking puns? You should expand your horizons, cupcake.” Adrien felt a touch of shock at the fact that Marinette punned, that Tom had punned back, and that it seemed to alight a competitive something in his girlfriend.

Sabine chuckled behind her hand as Marinette jumped on a reply. “I would but they’d be whey too complicated and go over your head.” Adrien’s heart raced and he was sure that she was sparkling or something, he thought anime had exaggerated the glitter and hearts but there was no other explanation for the sudden glow.

Tom’s whoop of delight as he got off a nasty combo attack on Marinette’s bot was silenced when she locked him into her grab technique and KO’d him with her Marinette Super Combo before he could land the last few hits he needed to win. “You cheddar brie-lieve I plan to get you back for that.” Adrien was going to bounce out of his seat in excitement at the new puns he was hearing, he couldn’t wait to find a way to slip them into a chat with Ladybug to see her exasperated face.

“That was a silky delivery, but cheese puns are only sew-sew.” Marinette’s head whipped to look at them, as did Tom and Sabine, even Adrien couldn’t hide his shocked delight as he stared at his Father after Gabriel’s two-in-one pun was delivered. A smirk was present on his Father’s face and Adrien found himself wondering just what sort of magic Marinette and her family had, keeping Marinette in his life was a bigger priority than anything now.

Marinette watched the video with unmasked glee, Tikki was perched on her shoulder as they replayed the arrest and Lila’s reaction to it, the sweet revenge was enough to make her feel a little better. Representatives from the School Board had promised to be here just after lunch hour to discuss the outcome of their investigation, explain the punishments for all involved parties, and determine if Marinette would benefit more from going back to school or if keeping her enrolled online would be a preferable choice.

Even with Adrien telling her that the other students were whispering about apologies, Alix and Kim talking about possibly trying to come see her, Marinette didn’t want to forgive them. There shouldn’t have even been an issue because they should have trusted her, she hadn’t even bullied Chloé back for all the hell the mayor’s daughter had put her through, they had taken Lila’s word over Marinette’s and allowed themselves to be misled. Doctor Mazur, who she decided to continue therapy sessions with if only to deal with her bad habits, had been firm in reminding her that she didn’t have to forgive anyone or become friends with them again.

His calm tone and soft voice had been what she needed in another panic fit about how awkward she would feel if she did choose to go back, having them all staring at her or begging her to forgive them, terrified she would fall back into her routine of doing everything without taking care of herself again. Doctor Mazur had calmly reminded her that, aside from the School Board most likely overhauling the staff and school administration, it would be more likely they would most likely put her into a different school completely to guarantee her mental health wasn’t compromised.

Nathaniel, Juleka, Rose, and Ivan had all messaged her before her date with Adrien; evidently Lila had tried to force Adrien’s hand and revealed her true colors because she didn’t know Nathaniel and Juleka were in the room, Myléne apparently was having a hard time with accepting the truth but she trusted Ivan and the others more. But she hadn’t yet apologized to Marinette, as she still thought Lila was kind and sweet at the time, but today there were messages from everyone. Doctor Mazur had suggested to her parents that they change Marinette’s number too, an extreme move they had decided against at the time, she was starting to see why he mentioned it.

Hearing a knock made her look over to where Kagami stepped up into the room, eyes practically dancing with joy as she hustled over, sliding into the seat and looking eagerly at the tablet. Lila had outed Kagami as being interested in Aurore, something she had learned when she pilfered Adrien’s phone during one of their joint photoshoots apparently, the Tsurugi Matriarch hadn’t taken it the best in the beginning and Kagami had needed someone to talk to. Their friendship only continued to grow when Marinette became that shoulder, since the fencer refused to talk about it to Adrien at all, after a week of fire the older woman had finally sat down and listened to her daughter.

Kagami had been just as eager for Lila’s takedown as Marinette. “Adrien is coming over for lunch today, correct? Are you sure I am allowed to be present?” The nerves in her voice were clear and Marinette hugged the fencer with a nod, just because she was dating Adrien didn’t mean she was going to ignore her friends. Saying such made Kagami blush and smile, it was nice to see the frosty attitude was just a suit of armor, Marinette played the video and Kagami was snickering by the end of it.

Adrien’s arrival was greeted warmly and the three students ate noodles as they discussed plans for Marinette’s newest contest entry that required a male and female design with a model for each, Gabriel had been hesitant but permitted Adrien to act as Marinette’s model once Tomoe gave Kagami permission to be the female model. Marinette made sure to take their measurements before Adrien began showing Kagami his runway walk and making suggestions for her own, all while Marinette sketched away at a few designs.

The rules were that the clothes had to be casual, the contest winners would be featured in a summer travel book so the clothes were for summer weather, and accessories had to come from the list available online. Sun hats, shell jewelry, and an island feeling to the pieces did help with keeping Marinette from going off on her own trail of ideas. “Oh, I like that dress.” Kagami had leaned over her shoulder, to see what she was doing, Marinette studied the sketch again as she considered it. The wrap dress was kimono inspired, with elbow length wide sleeves with a band of fabric about 7cm thick that was sewn into the back and would cinch the waist of the dress together before hooking to itself in the back when the dress was closed.

Keeping the sleeves to be a light material, possibly a rope weave if she could find one soft enough and fine enough, would be ideal to match the straw hat with plum blossoms decorating the base of the crown. “I think I could make this work if I get the right fabrics.” Marinette hummed as she thought about going to the fabric store the following afternoon at lunch to explore a little, maybe she would find something that just spoke to her. A kiss landed on the top of her head and she looked up at Adrien as he leaned over her other shoulder.

“You can do it, Marinette, I think that’s an amazing design.” His praise made her smile, wrap dresses inspired by kimono closures weren’t exactly new or unique but she hadn’t seen any incorporate an obi into the look before either, if she could get this right without it looking too bath robe then she would be proud. “I have to say, I don’t think Father has ever let me wear a tank-top on camera before.” Which struck her that he was right, she’d never seen him without some sort of overshirt, Marinette wondered just how much she’d swoon herself seeing his shoulders.

Sometimes it was still hard to believe that Adrien liked her back.

Kagami shoved him playfully. “Probably because you’re so pale that you’d reflect too much light from the camera flash.” It was so unexpected a comment that both Adrien and Marinette stared, to the point that Kagami shifted in a little discomfort as her face fell, but Marinette burst into laughter and Adrien pouted dramatically at the barb.

“At least I know when to let it go, ice queen.”

The mock rage on Kagami’s face turned into a playful grin as she delivered a pillow strike that made the model yelp, his laughter loud as he tried to flee, Marinette giggled into her hand and watched them with a smile on her face. Only to be drawn into the fight when a stray pillow hit her in the back of the head. Once the fight was ended, with Marinette the victor, they cleaned up and had lunch before Marinette found her friend and boyfriend leaving with the arrival of Monsieur Richmond from the school board.

His stern face worried her, truthfully, but she was ready for the verdict. “Thank you for your patience in the matter during our investigations, Sir and Ladies, I am here to give you a brief summary of the decisions made as a result of our findings. Principal Damocles was removed from his position, as well as Caline Bustier, the pair of them replaced with Board certified staff to have proper training on handling threats and protocol for reported illnesses as well as classroom conduct.” Which they had expected at the very least, truth be told, but it was nice to hear confirmation that the issue was handled.

Marinette decided to ask the real question. “Will I… am I going back to school?” Part of her wanted to go if only for the normalcy, to be able to talk with Adrien between classes again, to see the friends she had left there. But the other part of her wasn’t ready to face the rest of her classmates yet, not wanting to be bombarded with more apology attempts.

Monsieur Richmond handed her a piece of paper. “You are, Miss Dupain-Cheng, but you will be reassigned to the class of Madam Priscille Mendeleiev rather than return to the class now under the care of Baxter Kennedy. Nor will you be asked to return to a role as classroom representative, you did a good job but we feel you need a little bit of a break.” Marinette sighed in relief because it was a compromise she was willing to accept, especially since she knew students in Miss Mendeleiev’s class and didn’t have to be worried about not having friends.

Hearing her Papa thank the man, even as she burrowed into her Maman’s hug, Marinette decided to surprise Adrien the next morning instead of telling him what was happening. With her bookbag on her shoulder, hair pulled up into twin buns rather than pigtails, Marinette checked her outfit one last time. Gray denim overalls ending in a skirt, pink half-sleeve blouse underneath, with pink and white high-top sneakers and thigh-high white socks; she felt cute and casual, definitely targeting her boyfriend’s fondness for anime.

Once she turned in her papers with the new Principal, Madam Roche welcoming her back with a warm smile and promising to do better for all students, the grin on her face as she spotted Adrien in the courtyard below only grew wider when Juleka pointed at her after tugging on his sleeve. He’d changed too, wearing a black overshirt today with a green and gray shirt under it, his dark jeans and black converse were far different from his tendency to wear lighter colors. “Mari?” It took all her control to head down the steps at a normal pace, sliding into his arms as he rushed over, her face warming as he peppered her cheeks with light smooches.

“I’m going to be in Madam Mendeleiev’s class, Adrien, but I’m back. I’ll see you in the halls, okay?”

“Alright, should I tell the others to let you approach them first?”

“Please? I’ll talk to them when I’m ready to, until then I just want to be able to move on.”

“Alright, Mari, I’ll let them know. Have a good day in class.”

He delivered one final kiss, right on the lips, that left her head fuzzy and heart racing; Tikki giggled from inside her pocket and Marinette hurried to her new classroom before sliding into the empty seat beside Aurore. Things were going to be fine, she’d recover from everything and come back better than before.

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

EPILOGUE (AO3)

AN: There is discussion of symptoms of post-traumatic stress in this epilogue. It's nothing too dramatic, I don't think, but I wanted to note it for anyone who is sensitive to the topic. Please take care of yourselves, readers.

Jake was right – the ceremony was no New York Public Library gala. The room was decorated with wilted streamers and a few drooping mylar balloons, and it had a stale high-school cafeteria aroma. All of the appetizers plus the sparkling cider – which was definitely not Champagne – were an unappealing room temperature. The metal folding chairs were stiff and unforgiving, and Amy’s butt was falling asleep.

But as she sat in the front row among the cops and politicians who made up the bulk of the audience, as she watched Jake stand square-shouldered in his dress blues – as the commissioner thanked him for his bravery and hung the Medal of Honor over his chest – Amy blinked back tears and thought: This is exactly right.

An elbow nudged her gently, and Amy looked down to find a tissue pushed discreetly into her hand. She glanced to her right and caught Melanie’s eye.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Melanie whispered, quickly brushing a stray tear from the corner of her own eye.

Amy looked back at the stage, where Rosa was now getting her medal, and she saw the barely-there smirk on Jake’s face as he caught her eye.

“I think they’re onto us anyway,” she muttered to Melanie, and they both laughed under their breath and dabbed at their eyes.

+++

The weeks after they’d been kidnapped had been rough.

It started a day or two after she’d gone back to work. At first Amy noticed that she startled easily. Car alarms, the bang of a door slamming shut, the thud of a stack of newspapers dropped on a newsroom desk – any loud, sudden noise made her heart race and her breath catch in her chest. She thought it was lack of sleep or stress about work, then Charles came up behind her one day at the copy machine and she was so surprised – so scared – that she elbowed him in the gut and very nearly stomped on his hand when he fell to his knees. Terry took her aside after that and gently suggested she take some time off. Later he slid a business card into her hand and said it was his own therapist, and Amy should make an appointment.

She dismissed his concerns at first, but then she called in sick two days in a row when it was too cold to walk and the thought of getting on the subway, surrounded by the noisy chaos of too many strangers packed into a too-small space, sent her into a panic. So she called the therapist, and after one nerve-racking visit she was diagnosed with acute stress disorder.

Though Amy knew it wasn’t logical she felt instantly, deeply ashamed. She told herself that she couldn’t be traumatized, that she’d come through it all fine, no injuries, barely even a bruise. So she’d been scared for a few hours – they’d been held in a penthouse suite the whole time, lounging on a king-sized bed with silk sheets and embroidered throw pillows.

But she couldn’t stop feeling scared, and sometimes she couldn’t stop crying, and sometimes she felt so angry that her blood pulsed in her temples and her neck. The worst was when she was overwhelmed or overstimulated and seemed to float out of her own body, like the real world was slipping away while she stood by, cotton-headed and paralyzed. Her therapist called it dissociation. She said it was normal. It made Amy feel like she was losing her mind.

Jake figured out pretty quickly what was going on, and he told her it was understandable that she had post traumatic stress, that he’d been there too, in the past. He was gentle with her and he validated every one of her roller coaster emotions and he didn’t judge her or patronize her. And when she threw him out of her apartment one night because she fucking needed to be alone, she texted him an hour later and he was at her door instantly, because he’d stayed in the hallway the whole time, waiting for her to come back to him.

After that they talked about trust some more, because it always seemed to come back to trust between them. Amy realized she needed to trust that she could lean on Jake, that he wasn’t going to break and neither was she if she let him take care of her sometimes. And Jake realized he needed to trust Amy when she said it was time to handle things on her own. Amy knew she’d gotten the easier deal, because she couldn’t imagine watching Jake hurt and letting him go.

But it had been eight weeks since the Vulture. Amy could take the subway to work again. She didn’t jump out of her skin every time a taxi honked or Gina suddenly swore at someone on the phone. She still sometimes cried in the shower for no obvious reason, but she hadn’t yelled at Jake since that one night.

And Jake – he was so good. They were great.

+++

Jake and Rosa were swarmed by reporters as they walked off the stage after the ceremony. Normally this kind of commendation wouldn’t get any media attention, but the Vulture story was still huge, and now every local publication was present. Amy spotted Hitchcock in the fray – he was pretty much the only person on the Bulletin staff without any ties to Jake, at this point – and also Adrian Pimento, their new photographer. Pimento was a talented shooter but had a tendency to go rogue on his assignments. Amy avoided working with him.

Amy and Melanie watched with amusement as their significant others braved the throngs, and Amy couldn’t help the flush of pride at how Jake handled himself. She’d drilled him over the weekend on how to handle the press, and the practice seemed to be paying off. She could read the signs of stress in the fine lines between his eyebrows and around his mouth, but to a casual observer he would look courteous and professional. Rosa, on the other hand, was standing just behind his shoulder and scowling. Amy couldn’t hear what either of them was saying, but every now and then she saw Rosa frown even more deeply and respond with a “no comment” Amy could read from across the room.

When they finally broke free, they bee-lined for Amy and Melanie and both couples exchanged the briefest of cheek-kisses before everyone seemed to deflate with relief and the simple joy of being on their own in the crowd.

“I still can’t believe we got the same medal when only one of us was kidnapped and stabbed,” Jake said to Rosa, who smirked at him.

“Not my fault you got your ass captured,” Rosa said, and turned to Amy. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Amy said. “But if anyone should be annoyed, it’s the woman who helped take down the Vulture and got kidnapped and nearly died and isn’t getting any medal at all.”

Everyone laughed and Jake gave her a quick one-armed hug. Melanie said, “I thought there were rumors that the mayor was going to give you some kind of civilian commendation?”

“Yeah, but probably not after that piece on the mayor’s slush fund she wrote last week,” Rosa said.

“Plus, she’d never take a commendation from the mayor,” Jake added. When everyone glanced at him he shrugged and said, “Conflict of interest. Right, babe?”

Amy just beamed at him and said, “You do know me.”

+++

Amy had met Jake’s mom the weekend after the kidnapping, when she had a well-timed lull between breakdowns and Karen came by Jake’s apartment with a bag of frozen meals to get him through the couple of weeks his arm would be in the sling. Jake had met Amy’s dad and the rest of her brothers over Christmas. They both made great first impressions – Amy because Karen was kind and sweet-natured and basically impossible to scare off, and Jake because her family had decided he had saved Amy’s life, despite Jake insisting that it was mostly the other way around.

She’d been exhausted after the holidays, burned out on anxiety and too much family, and they spent New Year’s Eve in her bed, watching old TV blooper reels and favorite SNL sketches on their phones until they both drifted off, well before midnight. And Amy thought if it was true that how one spent the last hours of the old year would be echoed in the new year, she was all right with that.

They mostly stayed holed up in her apartment or Jake’s after that, though they met Rosa and Melanie for drinks more than once. Those two were an odd but charming couple, a sweet-and-sour combination that clearly brought out the best in both of them. Melanie was warm and easy to just be with, even when Amy felt socially exhausted. And Amy found in Rosa a surprising ally as she worked through her issues, because Rosa was an attentive listener and also brutally no-nonsense. Sometimes Amy needed to spiral a little bit, but sometimes she needed someone to shut her down, or to help her put things in perspective.

“I’m just tired of having a panic attack every time the Uber Eats guy buzzes my apartment,” Amy said morosely one night at Shaw’s, when it was just the two of them at a table while Jake and Melanie dueled over darts.

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous,” Rosa said.

Amy froze. She was getting used to Rosa’s bluntness, but there was blunt and then there was insensitive. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m ridiculous-”

“Not you,” Rosa said. “Our brains are wired to turn trauma into chronic stress sometimes. It’s dumb. I hate it.”

Amy stared at her, mouth agape, because it wasn’t every day a revelation was dropped in her lap. “Yeah,” she said. “It is dumb.”

+++

Jake slipped Amy’s glass of (flat) sparkling cider from her hand and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. Then he turned and offered her his arm.

“Time to mingle?” he said.

And it was a small gesture, but it made Amy’s heart rush to loop her hand over his bicep and let him escort her toward the crowd. Rosa rolled her eyes as he led her away, but Melanie gave them a playful wave and mouthed “good luck.”

“So now I’m just arm candy?” Amy said to him.

“Always. Wait- never,” Jake said. “Is that a trick question?” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

They hadn’t actually discussed that this would be their first big outing as a couple. Somehow, despite all the press around the Vulture and countless interviews with Amy (and a few with Jake) and multiple in-depth stories about the night they’d been kidnapped, the fact that they were dating had not been made public. Amy wasn’t sure why anyone who wasn’t family or friend would care at this point. Still, given their history, she’d expected Jake to be nervous about coming out.

But his only reservations in the days leading up to the ceremony had been for her sake – making sure that she was going to be okay with all of the people and the socializing. They’d walked into the venue hand-in-hand, Jake in his crisp uniform and Amy in a wintery-green day dress. She’d felt a flutter of nerves in her belly, but only for a moment, and he’d pressed her fingers as if he sensed she needed the reassurance. They’d met up with Rosa and Melanie inside, and Jake had found Amy a seat and he’d stayed by her side until the ceremony began, and she wasn’t sure if his attentiveness was out of concern or affection or both, but she appreciated it all the same.

Now, as they moved through the celebratory mob, Jake was enthusiastic with his introductions. Amy met men and women he’d been in the academy with, and former partners and mentors from before his time under the Vulture. Everyone seemed to have a story about Jake to share – some prank he’d pulled, an amazing solve he’d made, how if anyone was going to take down a captain they would have put their money on Peralta. There were also an alarming number of stories about horrible bouts of food poisoning, and Jake apparently had a bizarre tendency to accidentally pants people. She thought that was some kind of running joke until she caught Jake blushing furiously after the third story.

After a while they found themselves surrounded by a few high-ranking officers, stumbling over each other to congratulate Jake and make some comment about how they’d always had doubts about Pembroke, which was as hilarious as it was insulting because men like the Vulture didn’t climb the NYPD ladder without support from the top. Jake introduced her to his new captain too, a man who insisted she call him CJ, and who seemed pleasant enough; both Jake and Rosa had said the jury was still out.

Amy was glancing around the cluster of brass, thinking how odd it was to be standing with so many gray-haired white men who looked the same, when she noticed a faint buzzing in her ears and a tingling in her fingertips – signs of an impending dissociation. She fought it for a moment, impulsively chastising herself for becoming overwhelmed in such a non-threatening place, but then she reminded herself that it wasn’t her fault and she wasn’t alone. She was still holding onto Jake, and she squeezed his arm slightly. He glanced at her and must have recognized something on her face, because he interrupted his captain, and with barely an “excuse us, sir” he led Amy away.

He took her to a quiet corner of the room, where they could watch the clutches of people talking and laughing, wait staff slipping in between to pick up used glasses and plates. A DJ set up near the stage was playing something Amy couldn’t quite make out. Jake slipped behind her and tucked his arms around her waist, holding her to him. She felt him kiss the top of her head, felt his thumbs rub over her knuckles, felt his chest solid and reassuring against her back. She leaned into him and breathed through the anxiety. Keeping herself in the moment. Letting him ground her.

When she felt like herself again, she closed her hands over his briefly, and turned in his arms to face him. He gave her a careful smile, and she nodded back at him that she was okay – because she was, truly.

She let her eyes fall to the star-shaped medal on his chest, and she reached for it, holding it in the palm of her hand. It was heavier than she’d expected, and cool to the touch. She ran a thumb over the points of the star.

“You realize,” she said, now tracing the engraving with the tip of a finger, “I’m going to need you to wear this all night.”

She looked up at him with a coy smile, expecting a flirty smirk in return, or a whispered suggestion of what else the night would bring. Instead, the smile he gave her was soft, even wistful, and the warmth in his eyes made her stomach do a slow flip.

“You realize that I’m in love with you,” he said.

Amy felt her cheeks flush, felt the warm rush of tears in her eyes, and she nodded, because yes, she did know. She’d felt the same for a while now, and maybe it had been petty of her but she’d needed him to say it first. She thought maybe they’d both needed that.

“I know,” she said, when she thought she could trust her voice. She brought her hands up around his neck, felt his hands at her back, pulling her a little closer. “I love you too.”

The kiss was just a brush of their lips, but also a promise.

+++

Rosa and Melanie came up not long after, Rosa complaining that she was straight-up insulted that there was no open bar. “Can we leave for your mom’s now?” she said.

Jake pulled out his phone and glanced at the time, and he noted that they would be a little early to the after-party that Karen was hosting but she wouldn’t mind.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Melanie said, ditching a plate filled with half-eaten appetizers on a side table as the four of them headed toward an exit near the stage.

“We might want to stop somewhere for a snack first – Charles arranged the catering,” Rosa said.

“Smart,” Melanie said.

They disappeared into the lobby, Amy and Jake right behind, but Jake paused when someone called out his name. Amy turned, and it took her a moment to recognize the man jogging toward them, an anxious smile on his face – he ran a new Brooklyn newsletter-slash-gossip blog. She’d seen him at a few recent press events. She thought his name was Teddy.

“Can I get a photo?” maybe-Teddy said, addressing both of them.

Amy opened her mouth to say no, but Jake was faster, and he said, “Sure” and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. Teddy grinned and lifted his phone, and just before he snapped the picture Jake turned and planted a kiss on the corner of Amy’s mouth. It was sweet and it was chaste but it was also a kiss, and Amy blinked in surprise as Jake pulled away with a sheepish smile.

The photo ran on the top of Teddy’s blog that night. Two days after that, Amy found a printed-out copy of it on Jake’s refrigerator, under a Donatello magnet. The image was slightly out of focus, and the quality of the black-and-white print was not good, but it was impossible not to see the warmth and the love between them. Jake’s eyes were closed, his lips curved into the hint of a smile against her mouth, and Amy looked like she was a breath away from laughing, utterly charmed by her impulsive boyfriend.

“It’s not the first time we made news together,” Jake told her, when Amy asked why he’d put the photo on display. “But it’s the best.”

Amy told him that was the cheesiest thing he’d ever said and she was never going to let him forget it, and he said, “Promise?” And she kissed him.

The photo ended up on Amy’s refrigerator when Jake moved in with her six months later. She laminated it.

And that, officially, is the end. <3

[joiesomer]

bees and the bees

Who: Somer & Jeff ( @xjefferxx​ )

Where: dance studios, Somer’s room

When: 4 August 2019

Notes/Triggers: hard discussion, nsfw

Jeff was still coming out of his bipolar manic phase, which left him feeling off and very much in a place that made it easy for him to snap one way or the other. So he was off doing the one thing that kept him level. He was dancing, he was dancing slowly to a soft and sweet ballet song. One that seemed to make him move in such a way that it calmed his mind.

Knowing from Sam that Jeff wasn't in his room at the AXi house, and also knowing that Jeff was not in Somer's room at Schuester, Somer checked the last most logical place: the dance studios. And there Jeff was, moving in a way that brought a lump to Somer's throat. He slipped into the room, closing the door with a nearly-silent click, and sat down on the floor to just watch.

Jeff let the song end, coming slowly to the floor. Looking up, he saw Somer there. He curled his legs to sit criss-cross there as he shut the music off. "Hi," he smiled, panting softly.

The redhead smiled at Jeff, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging them. "So is this rehearsal or is something else going on?" he asked, head tilted.

"This is me just letting go some ... I guess. Trying to work through my brain more." Jeff shrugged and sucked his lips. "Sam said I needed to talk to you about sex things ... "

Flushing up to the tips of his ears, Somer ducked his head. "Ooops," he mumbled, into his knees. "I didn't know he was going to do that. I just ... wanted some reassurance. And the topic got onto that." He couldn't look at Jeff, scared now that this was truly where things would go wrong. "If you need to work through things, I can go ... "

Jeff shook his head. "No, we can talk about it, I think he's right. I just didn't like that he thought he should know the reasons and all that. I thought it should be just between us."

Somer nodded, head still hanging. "I just ... " He swallowed hard. "I just want to touch you ... the way you touch me ... and you don't like me to do that. And I'm just confused."

Jeff bit his lip. "It's not that I don't like it, I do. I just get nervous and when I get nervous I get scared and then I can shut down and if I shut down on you, then I know it will be bad and I'm trying to find the middle ground, I've told you that ... "

"I know!" The redhead looked up, frowning sadly. "I'm trying not to push you, I am. I'm sorry I brought it up. At all." He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes, and blinked fiercely to keep them away. "We'll go at your pace. I'm always only going to do what you want, Jeff."

"Somer ... we're not going at my pace, we're going at yours. We've been going at yours since the day I kissed you or do you not see it?" Jeff said, moving closer to him. "There are so many things I want to do with you but you don't want it, you're not comfortable with it so I don't even try or ask. I want to make out with you when people are around, hold your hand, pick you up and kiss you. I want others to see how much I love you in every moment but you don't like PDA so I don't do it. You want to get sexual so we do ... I had to ask to slow down ... "

Flinching back, Somer hit his head on the wall and grabbed the hit spot. "Ow." He squeezed his eyes shut. "'m sorry," he mumbled. "I ... I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say. He felt awful, hearing how much he was holding Jeff back from what his boyfriend wanted.

Jeff sighed some. "There is a wall there," he pointed out. He shook his head. "It's fine, really. I want to go at your pace, I want you to be ready for those things. You were so new to being with a guy, I wanted to make sure you were in a good place at all times."

Somer cracked one eye at Jeff. "You know," he said, voice rough with the tears he was holding back, "some of those things might change. But." He sighed, shoulders slumping. "I get it. That I'm not ... enough, sometimes, and other times I'm too much."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "You are more than enough all the time. I mean, sometimes you are a lot." He chuckled softly. "You are crazy but Somer, I wouldn't have it any other way ... we just, we gotta work on talking still ... talking and not getting too emotional about it, I guess." He shrugged as he bit back his own tears. "I get it though, if me being scared makes you want to walk away."

"No!" Somer grabbed at Jeff like he thought the blond was going to get up and leave. "No I don't want to walk away, please, please don't go. Don't ... go."

Jeff shook his head. "Somer, I told you. I'll only leave if you ask me to. You need to trust that I mean that, trust me fully. Please," he whispered, holding his hand tight. "We have to trust each other's word. So do you trust me when I say I love you and I won't leave you?"

Somer whispered, "I want to. I want to so badly." His grip almost crushed Jeff's hand. "I'm trying. I'll try more, I'll be what you want. If you want to -- to do anything where people can see us, I'll do it. And I won't push you about anything, I promise."

Jeff sighed softly. "I want you to be you ... I want my love to be himself and no one else. We just gotta work together,"  he said, kissing his hand. "I mentioned a hotel room to you ... and I wanted to talk to you about some things ... if you're up for it."

The redhead shook his head slightly. He couldn't just be himself; hadn't Jeff just said that there were things he wanted that he wasn't getting because Somer was broken? He had to be what Jeff wanted. He turned the headshake into a nod, hoping Jeff hadn't seen. "What? I'm up for anything you want."

Jeff raised a brow. "Somer, stop hiding it from me ... please."

His cheeks went pale, and his heart seemed to drop like a stone into his gut. "What?"

Jeff sighed. "You're trying to hide things from me and I don't like it. So honesty ... please."

He blinked, and a tear slipped down his cheek. Angrily Somer swiped it away. "You say I make you nervous, but I don't understand how that can even be? I'm just ... nothing. Compared to you. You want so much, and I want to give it all to you, and I know -- I know, okay, I see exactly how hypocritical I'm being -- if I have a little time I can give you everything you want, I'm just scared of being laughed at. By other people, okay. Not you. But when we're alone, then I can be brave, and you get nervous and I don't understand it!"

Jeff sat back, letting him get it all out. "Because I thought you were ashamed of being with me because you barely let me touch you when we're in public," he replied.

"No!" A few more tears fell, and Somer rubbed at his eyes with his shoulder. "No, I'm scared they'll laugh at me, that it'll be like that anon said, everyone will see and say how much better than me you could do. That ... it'll be like Benji all over again."

"But no one did that, no one said a thing after that photo was posted, except that they were happy for you, for us," Jeff replied. "Benji was being immature and a jerk but did you see how everyone else reacted? No one laughed but him ... no one but that stupid asshole who is too damn scared to show their face is going to care or laugh!"

"And I said I would do anything you wanted! I'll push it away, I'll pretend I'm not scared until it sticks! What more do you want?" Somer took his hands back, clenching his fists, frustrated at how no matter how hard he tried to get into what was bothering Jeff it always seemed to come back to him, to his fears.

"I want you to try, I want you to be willing to try things with me outside of the room like we did in your room and mine." Jeff finally sucked on his lip. "I don't want you to fear being with me because if anyone makes you feel down then I'll be the first one to make them hit the floor. Somer, you can't let the fear or striking out keep you from playing the game ... I'll stop being scared too because I want so much with you."

He could feel his fingernails digging into his skin with how hard his hands were clenched, and forced his fingers open. "Jeff, I am not afraid to be with you. Not ever. Not like you mean. Every single thing with you, I've had to push this fear aside of being used, of being made fun of, of being mocked. Okay? Everything. All the time, it's there. Except when we're alone together, then I can be free of that. And that's the one time you start pulling away from me. When I think we're safe. I don't want to hide what we have, and I'm not ashamed of you, just I'm tired of having to fight the fear all the time, I'm so tired of it." He bit his lip hard, feeling tears well up in his eyes again. "I just want to be with you in all the possible ways."

"So do I ... I want to be with you in all ways in all places ... well I mean, I don't want to do like sexual things in public ... " He blushed.

"About that ..." Somer rubbed at the tears again, hating the way he cried so easily when he was frustrated. "Um. About that ... can you just ... ask me? Before you pick me up? In public. That's all. Everything else. I can. Like when I was dancing, and you came up -- I liked that a lot. A lot. You just surprised me, with picking me up."

Jeff nodded then, looking to him; he licked his lips. "Okay but you can't tell me no every time," he replied. "I like holding you and picking you up. I like that you're littler than me." His eyes cast down once more. "Somer, I'm going to explain something to you but after I explain it to you, you can't ask me anymore about why I'm scared. You can't ask and we're done talking about it after I say it. Meaning when I'm done talking, I'll give you three questions I will answer then the subject is dropped. Do you agree?"

Somer pinched his lips together, doing Jeff the courtesy of actually thinking about his answer. "Okay," he said finally. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was going to be hard for the blond to talk about, and hesitantly Somer reached out and took his hand again. "C-can I get mad about it? Because it sounds like someone did something awful to you. And you already said nobody abused you, so ..."

"You can get mad but please try and hold it back for me," Jeff replied, pulling his hand back. He didn't need to be touched when he spoke about this. "I told you a while back that I used to do a lot of giving and I meant that. That's all I did, I gave the handjobs, the blowjobs, I was the one they made out with because they wanted to make out with a guy. I was hidden under tables and behind curtains. I was used for what I could do for them, it was never about me. I've never been touched before you," Jeff explained. "I've only ever given, so receiving, it's not something I know how to do. I know things work in theory but I've never felt it or done it. I'm a virgin too, Somer. I've always been the one to care for others so letting you in, letting you take care of me is really hard to do. I am trying but you hiding me, or at least feeling like you were hiding me, I just felt like I was back there."

Somer tried hard not to be upset when Jeff took his hand back. Some people needed to be strong in themselves when they looked into hurt places. He couldn't stop the way his jaw clenched when Jeff explained, or his hands curling into fists, but he tried to make himself relax.

"I'm sorry," he said intensely, almost on the heels of the dancer's last words. "I'm /sorry/. I never meant to make you feel that. Never." He swallowed, searching for a question, but there weren't any, just a pure determination that Jeff should never have to experience that again. One floated up, though, and he asked it carefully. "How old ... were you?"

Jeff nodded. "I know you didn't but it's how it felt when you were so open behind closed doors but so scared in front of others. I get why you are scared, I do. I just ... if you really want to be more public, I want you to want it, it just do it for me," he explained. "I was about 15 when I really started ... "

Five years, Somer's mind supplied. No, four. Maybe Jeff had been free of that since coming to Joie. Still. His muscles twitched, wanting to reach out and pull his boyfriend into his arms. "I don't know if these are the right words," he said slowly. "But they're the words I have right now." Somer licked his lips. "I ... want to be more public. But I also ... am afraid. It's both. Right now the fear overrides the other. More often. But I do want it. And I'm sorry that my fear made you feel ... used." He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the way his heart was pounding. "And. When ... I feel like I owe you. To reciprocate. I feel greedy and selfish when it's you touching me, but not the other way round. So ... I've been pushing."

Jeff nodded some in understanding. "I know you don't mean it that way but like I said, I need more outward for me to let you in like that." He shook his head some then. "You're not because I don't want it ... I mean I do but yeah. Okay one more thing then we're done with this topic okay? I can't keep going over it."

That would be hard, not feeling guilty about his perceived failure to reciprocate. But Somer nodded anyway. He would try. "What?"

Jeff furrowed his brow. "I said you got three questions then you agreed to drop this ... I was saying you still have one more ... " His eyes cast down.

"What?" Somer suddenly understood what Jeff meant. "Oh. I don't ... I don't have anything ... anymore to say. Except I'm sorry." Tentatively, he held out his arms.

Jeff moved over, for once straddling Somer's lap as he rested his head on the boy's shoulder and hugged him. "I want you to touch me, just need to know you love me in public too, okay?" he whispered. "Kiss me, now."

Somer buried his face into the dancer's sweaty shoulder, holding him tight. After a moment he kissed the fabric under his lips, then turned to kiss Jeff's cheek until he found his mouth. That kiss was as gentle and undemanding as Somer could make it. He tried to say, with it, that he was here, that he loved Jeff, that he would work harder to be his best self.

Jeff kissed him back, even this, even this feeling of kissing him where anyone could come in and see was more then enough for him. It was the best start to it all for him. He made him want this, want more and want Somer's touch a bit even. Jeff pulled from the kiss. "There is one more thing we should talk about ... sex ... like actual sex ... I don't think we're ready to go there yet ... "

Blushing, Somer nodded. "I ... if it's okay, I ... don't even know how." He scrunched his face up, annoyed at the way the words didn't want to come clearly. "I mean. I don't know how boys have sex together," he tried again, "and I would ... I feel right now like I need that -- no." He shook his head. "I can't get the words right right now. But, um ... sometimes we -- I -- get carried away. And I'm really curious ... so. Uh. We should be prepared?"

Jeff smiled at his blush, kissing his cheeks. "I know how it works, how to do it, even if I've never done it myself so we're good there and I am prepared ... Sebastian and Hunter took me to the sex shop to get some things, so yeah ... I'll explain it to you another time ... but good to know we agree on waiting."

Somer blushed even hotter. "You -- you talked to Hunter about this?" His voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat. "I know sometimes I want more than you're ready for ... it's. It's like an addiction? The way you make me feel."

"Yeah, more Sebastian than Hunter, but yes, they know I wanted to know how it works and I found out some juicy details about them both." He smirked to his boyfriend. "It's called lust, I get it for you too, I love watching you cum and being the reason that you are."

When Jeff smirked at him, and said those words in that tone, Somer had to cover his face in a strange mix of embarrassment and desire. "Is it bad that you saying that makes me want you?" he asked, peeking through his fingers.

Jeff shook his head. "No because you just kissing me now, it makes me want you too," he said, moving Somer's hands away from his face.

Letting Jeff hold his hands like that, Somer's eyes darkened. "If I don't think about trying to make things fair," he said, voice a little rough, "it's really ... good, when you do that. When you hold me still." He swallowed hard, trying to put a lid on his hormones. "I'm being good, though. I'm good." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you, do you want to carry me out of here? I don't ... really have any plans for tonight."

"How about I give you a piggy back ride and you can tease me while I carry you?" Jeff slid from his lap. "Also, you like when I pin you to things? I didn't know that ... I'll have to remember it from now on." He winked as he licked his lip and grabbed his bag. "Ready?" Then he bent down for Somer to jump on his back.

"You're sure I'm not too heavy?" Somer asked, hesitating a bit. He climbed to his feet, shaking himself out, and got carefully on Jeff's back. Then he murmured in the blond's ear, "When you pin me, it makes me remember that I don't have to reciprocate. I can just let you take care of me. I like that ... " He wrapped his arms around Jeff's shoulders, making sure not to choke him. "You know Sam is going to make cowboy comments if he sees this, right?" the redhead said suddenly.

Jeff chuckled a bit, then looked back to him. "Sam can say whatever he wants, you will ride me one day, we all know it," he whispered back to him. "And I'll try to remember that, that you like being a good submissive boy for me." Jeff teased him as he made his way to Somer's room. "Also, I was really thinking about the hotel thing, just so we can get away for a night ... what would you say?" Holding Somer under his ass as he started up some stairs.

The pictures that brought to Somer's mind made him shiver, and he nosed at Jeff's ear. "I thought I was supposed to be teasing you," he whispered, "and that you wanted to slow down sexually. Because I'm just saying, you make it hard. I'm being good, but you make it hard." He closed his eyes, pressing his face into the blond hair, breathing in its scent. "If you're going to keep saying things like that then I definitely want a hotel room. Even if we don't. Go very far."

"For our anniversary and your birthday, maybe we'll do some pinning, okay?" he whispered, stepping into Somer's room he set him down and turned to press a kiss to his lips "But yeah, for now, for tonight, we should maybe just kiss and cuddle ... or you know ... you could ... touch me." He blushed.

The redhead hooked his arms around Jeff's shoulders to kiss him back, then pushed his boyfriend into the cup of the papasan. Then he climbed into the blond's lap. "I'm gonna go slow," Somer said softly, smiling. "Okay? So you tell me if you get nervous. I want to take care of you this time. Please." He leaned to softly kiss at Jeff's throat.

Jeff laughed as he pushed into the chair, humming into the kiss and then the kiss at his neck. "Okay, I will ... " His hips were already responding as he pressed up to Somer, wanting something, some sort of friction between them.

With a little squirming and awkward limbs, Somer got himself positioned so that he could reach the parts of Jeff he wanted to reach, while his boyfriend had something to rub against. "That's right," he encouraged softly. He mouthed his way down along Jeff's throat, fingers sliding up from the blond's waist and up under his shirt.

Jeff smirked. "Tease, you are a tease," he chuckled, grinding against him still a bit. He couldn't feel a single bit of nerves in his body right now. He was comfortable and almost aching to have Somer touch him more. With his hand on his body like that, Jeff sucked his lip, his heart racing.

With his fingertips gliding over Jeff's skin like he loved to do, Somer leaned back up and kissed the place the blond was gnawing on. "Shhh," he breathed. Then he lifted off his boyfriend's shirt.

Jeff kissed him back, just giving in a bit. Though he was still the boy that wanted the control, he didn't mind watching and feeling how Somer touched him.

"My turn to count freckles," Somer said, grinning at Jeff. "It won't take me so long." He had to squirm back a bit, so he could reach the blond's torso easily, then went looking for marks to kiss. He found a lot, eyes dancing as he rubbed his nose through Jeff's chest hair. The redhead made a happy hum, kissing and lightly scraping his teeth over the pale skin.

Jeff wasn't sure what he meant, then he suddenly knew. His hand came to rest on the boy's hair, tugging it some as he pressed more into his kisses and bites. "So going to get you back later for this," he murmured, not sure if Somer heard him, his fingers still carding through Somer's hair a bit.

Green eyes laughed up at Jeff, delight clear on Somer's face. "No you aren't," he whispered. "You love it. You love me." He tossed his hair out of his eyes, sitting up and twining his arms around Jeff's neck. "So if you want me to go on?" He kissed the blond's ear. "I think we have to move somewhere I can stretch you out."

Jeff smirked. "I do love you and this nice ass of yours." Grabbing him by it, he picked him up and shifted them around some, but he just set Somer on his feet. "I think you're up for the challenge." Dropping his shirt, pants and boxers, Jeff sat back down in the chair, his hand on his cock. "So think you can handle it?"

Somer gasped in a breath, surprised at how quickly Jeff had shifted. He licked his lips, staring with wide eyes, then knelt down in front of his boyfriend. "Do you ... want me to ... suck you off?" he asked slowly. "O-or something else?"

"Do you want to try it?" Jeff asked. "You can try if you want, I can walk you through it ... or you can do what you want. I told you, I want you to touch, I just kind of want to sit, not lay down ... if that's okay with you."

"You know you can't hold me if you're sitting there like that ... " Somer said, trying to remember the things that he'd been told before that made this hard for his boyfriend. He put his hands on Jeff's knees, leaning forward. He couldn't help pressing a kiss there, in the dimple, or drawing his tongue forward and up.

Jeff giggled. "That tickles ... and I'm okay right now, so if you want to sit on my lap and get me off, you want to grind your ass on me ... or suck me off, just do it." He was still stroking the head of his own cock. "Or I'll just finish myself off."

"Nope!" Somer's hand shot out and grabbed Jeff's wrist. He stood up, slowly, eyes fixed on the blond's face. He kissed the hand he had, and let it go. Without ever looking away, he stripped off his own clothes and crawled back into Jeff's lap, arranging himself with knees on either side. "You're mine, Jeff Sterling," the redhead whispered, kissing him before he could answer. He pushed his hand down between them, catching both their cocks in his grip.

Jeff gasped, then growled as Somer got possessive. It was very hot on the little man that he loved. Kissing him back, he presssed up into his touch. "All yours, Somer Rainault," he whispered. "All yours." He moaned now, loving the feeling of their cocks together like that.

Very quickly Somer found his hand just wasn't big enough to do what he wanted, and he let himself go, choosing to focus on Jeff. Just the brush of his hand against himself, as he worked the blond, was more than enough for him. He drank in the sight of his boyfriend's face, relaxed and moaning, then leaned close to touch their foreheads together. "Mine," he murmured.

Jeff looked up to him, moaning softly. His eyes were locked with Somer's. He didn't know if he'd last much longer. His eyes closing, he gripped at the back of his boyfriend's head, pulling him into a hard kiss that showed how good it felt to him to feel Somer's hand on him like this.

When Jeff kissed him like that everything in Somer responded. His hand tightened around his boyfriend, and although he was the one who was supposedly in control, he submitted utterly to the kiss. He crushed himself to the blond, rutting against his abs, breathing hitching. "Come for me," Somer gasped between kisses. "I want to feel you. I want you."

Jeff was lost still in the kiss; he moaned into it. Once he heard Somer asking so nice of him to come, he couldn't help but  to come. He moaned out Somer's name as he came along his chest and Somer's ass well, panting now, and pressing a soft kiss to his lips as he tried to catch his breath.

Even though he hadn't come himself, Somer felt as high as if he had. He exchanged small kisses with Jeff, gentling them both down and smiling down at the way his boyfriend looked. "I love the way you look right now," he whispered. "I can't even find words for it but I love it."

Jeff smiled, reaching down to stroke Somer now. "Hmm your turn ... I love it too, love your hands on me and my hand on you."

Somer pulled in a sharp breath as soon as Jeff's hand closed on him. His head went back, want climbing his spine in a rapid line, mouth falling open. "Bed," he gasped. "Please. Before I fall over."

Jeff wrapped his arm around his back. "I got you, you won't fall, I got you," he said, still stroking his cock and pulling Somer back to him so he could rest against him. "Come for me, baby," he whispered.

The redhead whimpered, trying to twist and give Jeff more room to work, but his limbs didn't want to obey him. All he could focus on was that hot, welcome hand wrapped around him. "Jeff," he gasped raggedly, and moaned in rhythm. He hadn't been expecting to receive, so it took a little longer for him to come, but he did, pressing his mouth to Jeff's in a sloppy kiss.

Jeff gladly kissed him back when he came, smiling softly. He just held him, his hand finding his shirt to wiping his hand off on. Cupping Somer's cheek, he kissed him still. "You are amazing," he whispered to him. "Thank you for this ... "

A soft laugh answered him. "Me?" Somer said, with a slight shake of his head. "You put your fears away, and I know how hard that is." He leaned against Jeff, blissfully limp, with a loopy smile.

[heyitstords]

Dear.

Good evening! Welcome to my word vomit of pure emotion. It’s 12:41 AM, and I have to let out my feelings. I just finished listening to Cavetown’s new EP called Dear., and it’s the best thing I’ve heard this month. This is not a review, not a rant, not anything special; it’s just me letting out unfiltered thoughts and emotions because I am so in love with this EP. I am unable to form beautiful sentences right now. 

Dear. has four tracks; Just Add Water, Banana Bread, Dear, and Talk To Me. Every song struck a nerve. The lyrics are raw, so full of emotion, that I can’t help but feel things every time I listen to the songs. I’m a mix of sad, happy, and fragile right now. 

Just Add Water

Leave without me because I don’t wanna go Just add water and let me grow Please forget me and be happy on your own Just add water, let me go

I’m feeling salty, but I’m not the sea I’m fungus in fresh water, cobwebs in your cupboard I saw my friends leave after the party I wasn’t invited, never invited.

I relate to these two conflicting verses so much. Someone posted on Genius: “He wants to be alone, but he’s also hurt when his friends don’t invite him places. He wants to be hugged and loved, but he asks his friends to leave him. He isolates himself because he wants someone to love him enough to stay.” AND HONESTLY??? SAME!!! Even though I don’t want to leave the house sometimes, I think it still feels nice to be included and remembered by people you consider your friends. It’s such a sucky feeling to see everyone hanging out without you and you really begin to question your self-worth. Am I that forgettable? Replaceable? It’s such an ugly, unhealthy feeling that always finds it way to my brain, convincing me that I am unimportant, unloved, unmemorable. 

Banana Bread

I hope you’re alright I didn’t wanna wake up last night Cause I quite liked the dream I had of holding your hand It’s funny how slowly time goes when my thoughts have been racing all this time It’s alright to feel a little bit of darkness now and then I know I’ve said it once but I still tell myself again and again You’ll never be enough, but what is enough, you’re selfless Isn’t that enough

This song. It’s so beautiful. It’s romantic, but it’s also realistic. Every day is not going to be a good day, but that’s okay! Some days are wonderful, some days are terrible. The line “Banana bread before I go to bed will put the bees to sleep / Otherwise they’d buzz and sting my lungs all night inside of me” reminds me a lot about anxiety-ridden 3 AM thoughts. They’re so toxic, and you just keep on spiraling down this black hole. The demons in your brain are so alive, holding you back, not letting you breathe. This song is deep and wonderful and true and ufghruhgr!!!!nkjewhfke I am at a loss for words.

Dear

Everyone's got a thing A thing they don't like A thing that makes them stare in front of the sink With tears in their eyes Everyone's got a thing Maybe they won't cry Maybe they can't even bear to utter the words The doctor prescribed

I won't even lie I'm screaming inside all the time It seems like a breeze It feels like a dream But I don't wanna die

Even though this song is really sad and serious, I find it to be also hopeful. Despite everything going wrong, your mind relentlessly telling you that you’re worthless, you still want to fight. Stay alive. I think that’s really admirable. I think the lyrics speak for themselves.

Talk To Me

You don't have to be a hero to save the world It doesn't make you a narcissist to love yourself It feels like nothing is easy it'll never be That's alright, let it out, talk to me You don't have to be a prodigy to be unique You don't have to know what to say or what to think You don't have to be anybody you can never be That's alright, let it out, talk to me Anxiety tossing turning in your sleep Even if you run away you still see them in your dreams It's so dark tonight but you'll survive certainly It's alright, come inside, and talk to me We can talk here on the floor On the phone, if you prefer I'll be here until you're okay Let your words release your pain You and I will share the weight Growing stronger day by day It's so dark outside tonight Build a fire warm and bright And the wind it howls and bites Bite it back with all your might Anxiety tossing turning in your sleep Even if you run away you still see them in your dreams It's so dark tonight It looks nice, fall asleep It's alright, come inside, and talk to me

I’m attaching the full lyrics to this song since it’s my favorite out of all of them. This whole song was like a tight hug. It was hard to choose a favorite, but something about this song almost made me cry. This song was beautifully reassuring; from the melody to the lyrics. God, especially the lyrics. When you’re anxious about something, hearing “That's alright, let it out, talk to me” is heaven. This song reminds me about a person, someone really important to me. Personally, I prefer listening to other people, and I rarely talk about myself. This person? I could talk about the most boring mundane thing in the universe and he will still express so much interest in what I have to say. So many times in my life I just keep my mouth shut, since I feel like the person I’m talking to is not interested in what I have to say, yet this guy never fails to make me feel like I’m worth listening to and that I have nothing to be afraid of. He’s the human form of reassurance. He makes me feel like I’m okay, I will be okay. He always listens, he’s always concerned about me, he’s genuinely interested about my life, even in the most boring part about my day. Whenever I’m sad or scared or anxious, he always reminds me that I can talk to him about it. Anything, everything, nothing. He is the line “I'll be here until you're okay”, because it’s true. He’s really there for me. Ah, I shed a tear. Look at me. 

That ends this emotion-fueled post! I’m thankful I have this blog slash online diary, that way I’m really able to let all my feelings out. I feel great too because I was really able to release my thoughts, opinions, and overall love for Cavetown’s EP. He is a genius, and I’m so happy I found him and his music. I’m not going to proofread this because these are my raw, unfiltered thoughts. 

To more beautiful music,

T

[mikeshanlon]

he’s all that: chapter one

fandom: it

pairing: reddie (richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak)

word count: 3.8k

on ao3

summary: 

Richie smiled smugly, “You’ve got spunk Kaspbrak. I like that.”

“Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up Tozier,” Eddie retorted as the line moved forward, “So what is this, if not some ploy to get me to tutor you? Some sort of dork outreach program? Because I’m not interested.”

---

Or: The one where Richie Tozier has six weeks to get into a relationship and make someone fall for him. Only problem? That someone is the anxiety ridden, goody two shoes Eddie Kaspbrak, and he can't even stand to be in the same room as Richie.

warnings: there is drug use in that bev/mike/richie are HUGE stoners. 

a/n: hello!!! hope you enjoy this fic, i will try to update it at least every other sunday (i'll figure out the exact number of chapters before i post chapter two, but it probably won't be more than 10). you don't need to have watched she's all that to get this, although there will be some small easter eggs/quotes from the movie. but the movie has not aged well and is very Heteronormative so like.... no need to watch it lmao. 

Senior year— it was what just about any kid in the public schooling system looked forward to. You were high school royalty, enjoying the last hurrah with booze and dancing before being sent off to make your mark on the world. Lanky limbs that weren’t yet grown into became muscled and toned, hips were wider and swayed. Brains were wiser, skin was touched more, and smiles were brighter. It was a time of transformation and change.

Except, senior year was almost over, and Richie Tozier felt like he hadn’t really changed at all. Sure, in the last four years he shot up to 6’2, his voice was deeper, and he wasn’t such a fucking outcast; but really nothing else felt different. He still only passed his classes on genius alone, had a problem respecting authority figures (partially due to the fact that his parents were still pieces of shit), and never knew when to shut the fuck up.

Derry, Maine itself stayed the same too, like a town in a snow globe encased with mom-and-pop businesses and ignorance. Other than iPhones, the small Starbucks on the corner of Main and Belmont, and the fact that the townspeople were slightly less homophobic and racist (slightly being the operative word); Derry was pretty much a time capsule for banana bikes, bullies, and double features with popcorn that had too much salt and not enough butter.

Take the cliques and social hierarchy-- a staple in any American high school, especially one in a small town. Despite it being the 21st century, the cafeteria still had tables for jocks, geeks, nerds, and preps, straight from some 80’s or 90’s teen flick.

Richie, like most things in his life, didn’t necessarily fit into one group or the other, toeing the line between social pariah and popular party dude. He supposed it was the side effects of being the class clown with too-big-for-his-face glasses, a diagnosis for ADHD, and his tendency blazing at any given moment. Funny and wild enough to show up to any party, but not exactly cool enough to hang out with for anything else.

Honestly, it didn’t matter either way, because instead of worrying about what table to eat the cafeteria’s barely edible food at, Richie usually spent his lunch smoking with his friends. It was time to catch up and unwind before the last few classes of the day— and there was no way he could get through chemistry without being high.

As soon as the shrill bell rang, Richie hopped out of his seat, grabbing his shit before placing his (probably failed) history quiz on the teacher’s desk on his way out into the halls.

He weaved through the couples sucking face and the worried AP students, his unruly black curls bouncing like a hyperactive halo around his head as he walked towards his locker.

“‘Sup Tozier!” someone called out to him, a familiar face at the weekend ragers, although he never learned his actual name.

Richie nodded, “Hey, what’s up Keg King?”

“Not much. Hey, you coming to see me defend my title this weekend?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Richie smiled lazily, patting the other boy on the back before strolling along.

It wasn’t a coincidence that his smile faltered as he passed what was left of the Bower’s gang. He and Hockstetter had graduated the year prior, although like most bumfuck racists hellbent on beating up ‘dorks and queers’, they stayed in Derry. The remaining two, Belch and Victor Criss, weren’t nearly as powerful or psychotic as their elders, but they had a reputation to uphold. They weren’t exactly slamming him down on the asphalt in front of the arcade like they did in middle school, but they weren’t friendly either. Mutual respect was even a stretch. He’d enjoy seeing them get their asses handed to them, and he was sure they felt the same.

Richie popped open his locker, catching the loose papers and pencils that inevitably fell out. A small mirror hung on the blue metal door, rendered practically useless because of all the smudges covering it. The remaining space was littered with stickers of indie bands, and post-its with doodles and notes to himself or from his friends.

Have a great day trashmouth <3- bevs

Sparknotes ‘Pygmalion’

Come to the quarry after school!-mike

It’s a good day to be gay

Next time u get drunk enough 2 facetime us reading the entire bee movie script pls invite us so we dont have 2 deal w/ that sober- b+m

Buy more cigs and weed

U lewk hott big sexxxi ;) - xoxo

Richie was unashamed to say he wrote the last one to himself one day when he looked particularly good.

He struggled to stuff his history folder into the looming mess, but eventually crammed it in there, slamming the door shut before anything else could fall out.

After checking that he did indeed have his lighter, bag of weed, and papers in his denim jacket, Richie made his way to their usual spot. They liked to smoke at the stairs behind the art room, which was tucked away in the back of the school, overlooking the field that separated them and the middle schoolers.

Throwing open the orange door to the stairs in his usual dramatic fashion, he found his two closest friends, “Ms. Marsh, Lord Michael, how fare thee chaps today?” Richie greeted in his (awful) british accent.

Beverly Marsh rolled her eyes as she lit her joint, “Fine, until I heard that horrible voice.”

Richie threw a hand on his chest, a pained expression painted on his face, “Oh, how you hurt me so.”

“Hey, I mean it is his best impression,” Mike Hanlon commented from the steps, fist bumping Richie as he sat down across from Beverly on the top of the stairs, back to the railing. The sweet boy lit up the bowl in his pipe, inhaling deeply.

“Aw, thank you Mikey, you sure know how to make a girl swoon,” he cooed, mimicking a southern belle.

“Well, you don’t really have any good one’s in the first place,” Mike smirked, blowing out the smoke in his mouth while Beverly snorted, taking another drag.

Richie rolled his eyes, taking out his bag of weed, “Fuck off Hanlon.”

Mike extended an olive branch in the form of paper lunch bag filled with a sandwich, chips, and a can of coke. It was a daily occurrence for them— the Tozier’s rarely had any food, and even if Richie wanted to eat from the cafeteria, he didn’t exactly get a lot of money from them.

“My upcoming munchies thank you dear friend.”

He opened his bag of weed, attempting to balance the paper on his knees so he could roll his own joint. This failed miserably as the weed fell out, getting all over his Radiohead t-shirt.

“Shit.”

Beverly sighed, holding out her hand, “Let me roll it Tozier, you and I both know I’m better at it anyways.”

“What?! I’m perfectly capable of doing it by myself. I roll a damn good joint Marsh,” he shot back incredulously.

She plucked a stray piece of weed and gave him a pointed look. Richie groaned before handing his stuff over, Beverly handing him her own joint to smoke on in the meantime.

“How’s your day been Rich?” Mike asked from his spot on the steps. Typical farm boy, concerned with his friends. Richie often wondered how such an angelic person hung out with him and Bev, but Mike had his fair share of rebellious traits.

“Ah, well, you can tell it’s been just dandy. I can’t wait till we get out of this fucking hell hole,” Richie scoffed before taking a hit.

“Only seven more weeks,” Beverly reminded, eyes and hands focused on rolling.

Mike nodded, “Crazy. Can’t believe we’re finally graduating.”

“Thank fucking god, Derry is a suffocating shithole,” he said, “I know I’m an idiot, but Jesus, everyone here is a fucking bigot.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, not saying much else. They understood. It was hard being one of the only black kids in school, let alone pansexual (although most people didn’t know this about him). The prejudice he faced wasn’t something he often spoke about, trying to be as positive as possible.

“This kid in english was saying bisexuals are sluts today,” Richie successfully blew a few smoke rings, “Like, I am one, but not because of my sexuality, asswipe.”

Bev laughed humorlessly, handing Richie the freshly rolled joint and taking back her own, “No need to tell me what that’s like.”

No, the redhead had been getting called a slut over nothing since the seventh grade; the rumors and shaming only getting worse when she too came out as bi.

A comfortable and reflective silence fell over the three, occupied with their thoughts and getting high. Richie placed the joint in between his chapped lips; struggling to light the tip as his white lighter sputtered, on it’s last moments of life. Mumbled expletives fell out of his mouth before he was successful, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in before letting it all escape.

His dark brown eyes scanned the poorly maintained sports field, filled mostly with middle schoolers running around and yelling. Part of him envied the carefree nature of it all, but the other remembered how fucking shitty middle school was and any jealousy washed away.

Not too far from them was what was dubbed as ‘the kissing tree’. The old trunk was littered with carvings, initials surrounded by hearts claiming that their love was ‘forever’. It was juvenile, small town as fuck, and heteronormative— though most things surrounding romance in Derry were.

Of course, Richie had been obsessed with it as a preteen, and knew his own name was on there (a few times).

What caught his eye now were the couple under it, making out passionately, flush against one another, like if they stopped they’d die.

Honestly, that would be preferable, as one of them was Gretta Keene, one of Richie’s biggest mistakes.

Gretta was one of the most popular girls in school, and she was also a grade A bitch. Her green eyes sent glares akin to daggers, and her lipgloss covered lips provided insults that went too far. Including frequently calling Beverly a slut.

It wasn’t like Richie had a huge crush on her or anything. Their relationship was merely born from constantly being at the same parties, cross faded and wanting a quick hook up to distract themselves. Mike had commented that it was only a matter of time, except one became many more, despite the fact that Gretta only got with jocks.

Their arrangement caused Bev to freeze Richie out for two months last semester, breaking their four year streak for best couples costume at Betty Ripsom’s annual Halloween Party. Bev was more important to him by a long shot, but per usual, he kept fucking everything up.

Most of their ‘moments’ were shared in some stranger's bed, or dancing in a kitschy living room to pop music, sharing a blunt or swigs from a bottle of whiskey. None of it was on purpose, but rather a byproduct of being intoxicated and having a high sex drive.

In fact, they had only been on two actual dates when they were together. The first was at the drive-in a town over, the pair sat in Richie’s beat up station wagon, some shitty b-movie playing on the large projector. Gretta shared a pack of cigarettes with him, and it was probably the only kind thing she had ever done. Richie tried to make conversation, so that their relationship actually had some sort of substance other than weed and alcohol; but Gretta quickly shut him up, sticking her cherry coke flavored tongue down his throat.

He took her out to his favorite diner for their other date, figuring that they might have a chance to actually get to know one another without an acceptable place to make out. They sat on opposite sides of a booth outlooking Main street, an old-timey song playing on the jukebox.

This plan proved to be a grave mistake, because Richie finally understood why Bev often said, “Satan himself thinks Gretta Keene is too cruel.”

He repressed the memory, if he remembered it he’d get too pissed off. Instead, Richie thought of their break-up, how she had beat him to the punch.

He had been waiting at her locker, leaning against #405 and picking at his nails, humming a song by The Smiths under his breath. Gretta approached, clad in a pink mini-skirt and a tight crop top, smacking her half-priced bubblegum.

Richie cleared his throat, standing upright, ready to chew her the fuck out for being such a horrible person, “Gretta, let’s talk—“

“We’re through Tozier.”

“What the fuck?!” He had gaped at her, “No, I was going to breakup with you!”

Gretta shooed him away with her manicured hands, “Please, you’re a fucking nobody. Irrelevant. You should be glad we even fucked around this long.”

A small crowd had formed around the two, “You’re the one who kept coming back for more.”

“And you’re the one who actually thought this could be something. So cute. But I don’t date losers and I don’t date attention-whores like you.”

Like he said, grade A bitch.

“Jealous?” Mike snapped Richie from his thoughts.

His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that he was caught staring, “What? No. I pity the poor bastard that’s with her. Fucking breath smells like a fucking dog ate a pack of Winston’s. Straight up ass.”

Beverly chuckled, but her eyes held a little bit of resentment, “You used to smoke those Winston’s with her.”

“I thought we had an agreement that we would never speak of the Great Gretta Keene Mistake again?”

“Sure, but you’re the one watching her,” Mike pointed out, packing a new bowl, “Missing the one that got away?”

The other boy’s tone was joking but Richie sent him a glare, “She’s fucking irrelevant to me okay?”

They hummed in agreement, but he could see the slight doubt on their faces.

Richie ripped open his bag of chips and threw one in his mouth, “She thinks she’s such hot fucking shit, but she’s so replaceable.”

“Richie, it’s rude to speak with your mouth full,” Mike admonished his bad manners.

“That’s not what your ol’ pops said last night when I was suck-“

“Beep beep, Richie,” Mike warned.

Bev shook her head, “Really Rich? His grandpa?”

“When opportunity strikes,” he flashed a shit eating grin before taking another hit.

“Anyways, while I second the sentiment that Gretta isn’t all that, you haven’t exactly had a relationship since her,” Bev accused.

“Okay, what the fuck is this, ‘pick on Richie day’?” he said, readjusting his position, “Besides, I’ve been with plenty of other people.”

“Please, this isn’t middle school, and I’m still not buying the whole ‘my bedpost is covered in notches’ bit,” Bev inspected the joint between her fingers, now just a stub.

“Well, obviously it’s not. I’ve had sex in many different beds. Yours included,” Richie smirked.

“Beep beep. You know you aren’t allowed over after you almost burned down my aunt’s apartment.”

“The apartment was fine. Everyone knows if you put the temperature up super high food cooks faster. Those tater-tots would’ve been delicious. Bon-appetit,” Richie spoke in a poor french accent, and his eyes widened, “Bon-appetot. Bon-appetatertot.”

He fell into a fit of giggles and Mike chuckled across from him.

“You are a walking disaster Richie Tozier,” Bev said, though an amused smile sat on her lips.

“Richie’s poor life choices aside… One night stands and drunken make out sessions don’t count,” Mike returned to their previous topic, “I mean something sort of serious. Something you put effort into.”

“I don’t put effort into anything Michael dear,” Richie countered.

“Not true. You put effort into a lot of dumb shit,” Bev put out her joint, “Like when you tried to climb the water tower at 3 am naked. Or the time you tried to get the principal to grind with you at homecoming.”

“You can’t blame me for that. Mrs. Marton is a vixen. Can’t believe she resisted my charms.”

Mike laughed, shaking his head, “Point is, it kinda seems like you’re stuck in a rut.”

“I get plenty of action,” Richie boasted, taking a drag from his joint, “Plus, I could make any girl or guy in this piece of shit school fall in love with me.”

“That a bet?” Bev grinned mischievously.

“You know what, why the fuck not?” Richie shrugged. He was bored, and he wanted his friends off his fucking back, “Terms and conditions?”

“Mike and I get to choose the sorry fuck who you’ll be pursuing—“

“No, I don’t wanna be a part of this. Isn’t it kinda fucked up? Getting with someone for a bet? Why don’t you just try to date someone without an ulterior motive?” Mike suggested.

Richie rolled his eyes, adopting an Australian accent, “Now where’s the fun in that mate?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You get till prom to sweep this person off their feet. A committed relationship, not just a hookup. If you win I’ll get you a shit ton of the finest weed the county can offer,” Bev continued, “If you lose—“

“No need to tell me, because I won’t fail,” Richie smirked, “I’m a total knockout.”

Bev’s face mirrored his own, “Fine, it’s your funeral.”

Both of them spit into their palms before shaking their hands, bonding the bet.

“C’mon, let’s go find them— you only have six weeks.”

The three of them packed up their shit, passing around the rest of Richie’s joint so it wouldn’t go to waste before they headed inside. Bev spritzed some perfume on them in an attempt to mask the smell of weed, making Richie smell fruity and floral. He popped a stick of spearmint gum in his mouth, deciding to save his sandwich for AP Calc next block.

It was a rare occurrence for them to roam the halls before the lunch bell rang, so a few of the students stared at them as they went on their search. Mike smiled at just about everyone they passed, a fucking angel per usual.

“What about him, he’s kinda cute,” Bev suggested, nodding her head to a blonde boy holding a skateboard.

Richie shook his head, “We made out at that beach bonfire over the summer. He almost vommed in my fucking mouth. The money maker! These beautiful lips are fuckin sacred— how could I smooch and tell amazing jokes if he fucked em up? These babies ooze charisma and sex appeal.”

“More like ooze bullshit,” Mike quipped.

“I think you’re just jealous that you won’t be the one I’m wooing Mike n Ike.”

Bev snorted, “I pity the poor fuck who you’ll be annoying till prom,” her eyes lit up, and she turned to Mike, “Hey, we might be able to enjoy some peace and quiet for a while!”

“The minute we became best friends with Richie I gave up all hope for tranquility.”

“Hey!” He protested, although Mike was right.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” the other boy finished sweetly.

Richie planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek, “Oh Mikey, you are the most wholesome-est boy I ever did meet,” he slipped into his southern belle persona, “What about you Bevvy darlin’, got any words to butter up my biscuit? To milk my udder?”

She rolled her eyes and continued walking ahead of them, turning into another hallway.

“Fine, I know you love me Marsh,” Richie used his long lanky legs to his advantage, catching up to stroll alongside her quickly, “What about Betty Ripsom?”

Bev scoffed, “Please, too easy.”

“What?! She’s like, a good ol’ Christian girl. I’m a deviant! My skype username used to be tozier666! Or wait, it was tozier42069… I can’t remember.”

“C’mon Richie, we all know she had a massive crush on you freshman year,” Bev replied.

Mike nodded in agreement, “You wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Like most things,” Bev said, “Anyways, you’d just use that to your advantage. Although, I am liking the whole ‘polar opposite’ approach.”

Richie groaned, of course he had a hand in his own misfortune.

They continued to travel the halls, Beverly’s baby blue eyes scouring for a victim.

“You sure are digging your own grave today Rich,” Mike commented.

Richie nodded, “R.I.P. Richard Tozier. Big Mouth and even Bigger Wan—“

“Found ‘em,” Bev interrupted, a grin on her face.

She pointed down the hallway in front of them, where two boys conversated as everyone walked around them. The taller one had auburn hair, and was lanky like Richie, although the other boy seemed a little more muscular. The other looked like a fucking middle schooler, and Richie wasn’t sure how the little brat even got in there.

It took a minute, but Richie realized that he did actually recognize them. They didn’t interact much, not being in the same circles, but the two boys had been going to school with him since the days of recess. And they had been bullied since then too.  

So, correction, she pointed to where two of the biggest losers in school were talking about what was presumably some nerdy shit. Great.

“What, Big Bill?” Richie raised an eyebrow, “He’s not too bad. Ignore the stutter and the fact that he’s best friends with total dorks and you have a shy lil cutie. Nice handiwork Marsh.”

“You know, you’re a total dork and we’re still friends with you,” Mike quipped, his own way of chastising Richie.

Bev shook her head ‘no’, “Not Denbrough, the other one.”

Richie’s eyes settled on the smaller boy, and the realization that he was totally and utterly fucked set in.

Eddie Kaspbrak. The kid peaked at 5’6, and his lack of muscles along with the fact that he wore an honest to fucking god fanny pack didn’t help his 12 year old boy appearance. Of course, the fanny pack got worse— it was full of pills, eye drops, hand sanitizer, lotion, chapstick, and most importantly, his inhaler. Yes, Eddie was a fucking asthmatic hypochondriac and germaphobe, with an equally insane mother. Richie didn’t doubt that the asshole spent more time perusing WebMD than texting or checking social media.

He wore chunky turtlenecks in the winter, and in the hotter months, his tanned legs adorned tube socks and short-shorts (they were awful, although Richie had to admit they made his ass look great). His small hands gripped onto his stuffed backpack (kid already had a fanny pack full of shit, what else did he have to bring to school?). Eddie’s brown hair was always found in a overly gelled comb over, not a hair out of place. He reminded Richie of an off-brand Fred Savage with severe anxiety.

Mostly, Richie knew Eddie Kaspbrak would hate just about every little thing he did. There was no way they’d even be friends, let alone anything more.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me Bev.”

a/n: thanks for reading!!! richie and eddie will actually talk next chapter, don't worry. also for any concerned about the gretta/richie thing it's not Too Big of a Deal as it is in the movie, i just need it for some plot points (but overall richie is like 100% over gretta and it was just something stupid he did).

[fixxofvixx]

Stay With Me -Demon Leo AU- Chapter 5

Hello! I have another update for you! Like I said in the previous post, its lengthy because i couldn’t stop writing..lol.  But, apparently, thats ok with a few of you~~

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  Ravi’s chapter will most likely be up next~

Please, please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you guys!! <3

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Leo’s arms tightened around you as you felt the all too familiar feeling of your feet leaving the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not knowing where he was taking you this time. You refused to open them again. Partly from embarrassment and partly for fear of what you’d see if you did.

“I’m going to let go if you don’t open your eyes.” His lips touched your ear and you shuddered.

Knowing he would definitely follow through on his threat, you cracked one eye open. Sure enough, you were no longer in the room he had gifted you. Curiousity getting the better of you, you opened both eyes fully. You instantly wished you hadn’t.

Apparently, he thought you’d like the view from the roof. Your heart sputtered from being up so high. It wasn’t as high as the tree he’d put you in yesterday but it was still at least 3 or 4 stories high.

“Why did you bring me up here? You know I hate heights.” Your voice was muffled since your face was buried in his chest.

“I wanted you to see something. I come up here a lot and wanted to show you. Come on, turn around. You wont fall.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and gently turned you away from the safety of his chest. You were watching your feet so you wouldn’t slip. The roof had just a slight angle but flattened out towards the edges.

You decided it was at least safer than a tree branch and relaxed slightly. A glow began to take over the forest and you looked up. You inhaled sharply at the beautiful sight before you. Right outside the house was a lovely meadow with a sparkling pond. Reflected in the water was a beautiful sunrise. The reds, oranges, and yellows took over the trees. Everything glowed.

“What do you think? Maybe heights aren’t so bad sometimes?”

“No, heights still suck but I will admit, its so beautiful. I don’t usually get to see the sunrise.” You were saddened a bit by what you’d missed all these years. Mornings spent cleaning and cooking followed by more chores and then trips into town for supplies. You never had time for things like this.

“I can bring you up here every morning if you want. Well, maybe not during the winter. I don’t feel the cold but I assume you would freeze.”

You still couldn’t understand fully why he was so accepting of your company. But the feeling of someone wanting you around was making your heart cave in. He had put so much thought into making you comfortable here.

“Can I really stay here?”

“Of course you can. Who else is going to use that room down there?” He chuckled and you smiled.

“There’s no statues in my room that move, right?”

“No, there isn’t. And those three had it coming.” He whispered behind you.

You turned your head to look at him. He shrugged his shoulders and winked. The smirk on his face told you that he didn’t regret his actions. Perhaps one day you would gather enough courage to want to hear the story.

“So you’ll stay?”

You nodded and turned back towards the sunrise. The glow had dimmed and the magic was gone. Once again, you were faced with the fact that you were on the roof.

“Can I get off the roof now?”

“Yeah, sure.” He chuckled.

You waited for him to blink you back to your new room but nothing happened. Whipping around, you found that he was no longer there. He had completely deserted you. Your legs gave way and you landed, hard, on the roof.

“Leo?” Your voice was shaking and you searched desperately for the demon. “Come on, this isn’t funny.”

You scooted back until you were flush againt the large stone chimney that stood high towards the edge of the roof. It served its purpose in blocking your view of the ground. You brought your knees up to your chest and waited.

“You know,” You jumped at the sound of his voice. “We need to work on some things. You are far too accepting of people being mean to you.”

“Is that why you left me on the roof?”

“It was an experiment. I just wanted to see what you would do. You are fearless when it comes to saving foxes in traps but you curl into yourself and take it when you are picked on.”

“I…” You honestly had no idea what to say. You had never thought about it in that way before. You supposed he was right. Unless you were really backed into a corner, you just let things be.

“Come on, let’s get you back on the ground, yeah?” He stuck his hand out and you instantly took it, desperately wanting off the roof. He pulled you up beside him and wrapped an arm around your waist. He leaned down a bit and put his other arm under your knees, securing you against his chest.

You screamed loudly when he leapt off the roof. You threw your arms around his neck and squeezed. He landed on the ground after what seemed like forever but you made no effort to move. He lowered your feet to the ground but kept his arm around your waist.

“You’re back on the ground now.”

“Did you have to JUMP off the roof?!” You looked up at him and immediately moved back. His face being a bit too close to yours, causing you to blush slightly.

“You said you wanted down. You just didn’t specify the method.” He shrugged and smiled. A genuine smile that made your heart flutter. Startled by the sudden rush of emotion you stepped back a bit further. Oh, he was dangerous. That you knew for a fact.

“Um, anyway. If I’m going to be staying here, I’d like to take one more trip back to my old room and get a few things?”

“You can go where you please, Y/N. The entire forest is yours to explore. You needn’t my permission to venture out from it. I can escort you, if you’d like.” He took a step in your direction and you locked your knees to keep from backing away.

“No! I mean, thats ok. I don’t want you to have to take the risk of beeing seen. And I’m sure you have things to attend to here. It shouldn’t take long. Maybe Serix or Kona can show me the way?”

“They could. But I could just as easily take you to your room instantly.”

But then you would have to be in his arms again. And you were not exactly sure that your heart could take it right now. You needed time to think about what was going on in your brain…..and heart.

“Um, maybe we shouldn’t risk over-exposure again. I…don’t really fancy passing out again.” You laughed nervously, hoping to end the conversation.

“Ah, yes, well, I suppose you are correct. I can get Serix to go with you. Kona doesn’t like to come out during the day if he can help it.” As if on cue, Serix popped out from behind the trees and bounded over, coming to a stop at your feet.

You knelt down to scratch his ear and pat his head.

“I won’t be gone long. Perhaps when I get back, I can get a better tour?” Leo nodded in agreement and began to follow Serix away from the house. You dreaded going back to the old house but there were things there of sentimental value and feared they would be lost forever.

It took longer than you had anticipated getting to the edge of the trees that lay behind your house. The forest was bigger than you had originally thought but that excited you more than anything else. A whole new world for you to explore away from the madness of your parents suited you just fine.

You left Serix at the tree line, wanting to keep him out of harm’s way. Racing across the back yard, you prayed that your parents were in town. You climbed up to the balcony just as you had done countless times to sneak away from home. As you entered your bedroom, your heart sank. Everything had been destroyed. Your bed lay in pieces. Your closet was devoid of clothes. What was once in that closet lay strewn in shreds on the floor. You had sewn the clothes personally, proud of your work. Now, it was all useless. Panicked, you rushed to the closet to search for the things you had hidden. There was a loosened floorboard in the left side of the closet that held the things that really mattered. They were mostly heirlooms from your grandparents, given to you in secret before they died mysteriously in a fire.

Before you could lift the board, you heard the floor creak outside your bedroom. You froze, listening. You scrambled to a standing position when you saw the doorknob turn. As quietly as you could manage, you hid in the corner of the closet, pulling the door to close as best you could. Footsteps sounded in your room and you prayed that they wouldn’t venture to the closet.

“Are you sure you heard something? Everything still looks the same.” Your mother’s voice.

“I know what I heard. I guarantee that little bitch will come back. She can’t stay in those woods forever. I made a deal. We get nothing if we can’t find her.” Your ‘loving’ father sounded frustrated. Little did he know, you planned to stay in that forest for as long as you could.

“She’s probably dead by now anyway. Gus said he saw that demon run after her as soon as he’d killed his brother.”

Your heart slammed in your chest. Someone had seen you with Leo. A new fear gripped your heart now.

“You better hope not. If she’s dead, we don’t get any money. I had just sealed the deal to sell her off to Norman right before Gus came into town spouting his nonsense.”

Norman?! Your jaw went slack as you tried to make sense of what your father was saying. Norman was the town’s only lawyer and had just been accused of beating his wife to death a month ago. He had gotten cleared of all charges, of course, considering that no one would speak against him. You had always made sure to steer clear of him and the way his eyes would leer at you.

You heard the door shut again and you were once again enveloped in silence. Tears were streaming down your face as you mourned the thought of having caring parents.

Shaking your head to clear it, you knelt down, picked up the loose board and grabbed the bag that lay underneath. Carefully, you slipped out of the closet and across the floor to the balcony. You looked around to see if your parents were outside but the coast seemed clear. You swung yourself over the banister and dropped down to the ground beneath you. You looked out at the backyard and noticed Serix running at you, full speed. Not wanting him to be seen, you tried to wave him away. He was almost to you went you felt something hard hit the back of your head. The bag you had been holding flew out of your hands and landed in front of Serix.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as you could feel yourself falling to the ground. Before everything went black, you looked up to see your father holding a shovel in his hands.

————–

When you came to, you felt paralyzed. You tried to shake your head but that caused pain to radiate throughout your body. You wanted to hold onto your head but soon realized that your hands had been bound. You tugged on them uselessly. A foul-smelling cloth was tied over your mouth, effectively gagging you. When the fog had cleared out of your head a bit, voices filled the air. Looking around, you noticed that you were in the middle of the town square. Your hands were tied to the steel post of the announcement board in the center of town. In every direction around you stood the townspeople, shouting various profanities at you.

“Ah, nice to see that you’ve finally joined us.” You looked up to find the pock-marked face of Norman. “Imagine my surprise when I was told that you had perished in the woods at the hands of a demon, just like Gus’ poor brother. Then I find out that you had apparently become the demon’s whore, considering you are still alive.” He grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head back painfully, whispering into your ear. “And I paid good money for a virgin.”

Norman turned to the townspeople and spoke.

“This wretch has made deadly deals with the demon of the forest! Surely, the demon has been plotting against us. You know he has bewitched her! We have to cast out the spell! We must act now or she will be lost to us forever! Bring forth the iron!”

His last words had you pulling against your bonds. You knew exactly what he was talking about. Fire brands. Irons specially made by the blacksmith to 'burn the devil’ out of people. They had been used for many occasions. A thief had to be punished for their wrongdoings. Adultery was stamped out this way as well. They were especially handy for coaxing information from those who had a secret.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the fire red tip of the iron. The blacksmith had been nice enough to place a design on the tip; a simple 'x’. This was so whoever sported the burned flesh of an 'x’ on their skin would be avoided and shunned.

The blacksmith handed the iron to Norman and then walked over to stand behind you. You pulled desperately on the ropes cutting into your wrists but they were too strong. The blacksmith placed a large, callused hand in the center of your shoulder blades and ripped the whole back part of your blouse off. You squeezed your arms together as best you could over your chest in an attempt to save your dignity. You wanted to scream at them in protest but the cloth was too tight around your mouth.

“Will you admit your wrongs? Tell us where the demon is.” Norman asked, but you didn’t respond. He must have taken that as a no as he drove the iron into the center of your back. White hot pain seared your skin. You screamed in agony but you knew no one would help you. You nearly passed out from the pain before he removed the iron and stepped back. You pulled in deep breaths through your nose but you felt as if you were slowly suffocating.

“Stand her up.” Norman commanded and the blacksmith pulled you up to stand in front of the lawyer. The ropes slid up the pole, causing them to tighten even more on your wrists. “The demon must have done a number on you if you faithfully keep his secret. I must admire your tenacity, however. Usually even the strongest men will break after one touch of the iron. Perhaps we need something a bit stronger, hmm? I wonder how many x’s we can fit on your body. Strip her.”

At his command, you flailed desperately. You tried to keep your body close to the pole but the blacksmith was pulling on your clothes relentlessly. The look on Norman’s face was disgusting as you kicked out with your legs, aimlessly trying to hit something.

Suddenly, gasps filled the crowd but Norman didn’t notice. He was still smiling and twirling the iron in his hands. You were sure you were starting to see things when tendrils of black smoke curled around Norman’s neck. Before he could react, he was plucked into the air and slammed mercilessly into a brick wall.

The black smoke grew until it parted the people in the square, forcing them to form a path. Your eyes followed the smoke until it reached the narrow entrance to the town square. Finally, a wolf emerged from the smoke, then another, and another until six black and grey beasts stood at the entrance. They continued forward, snapping and snarling at the townspeople, who were all frozen in fear. The wolves started forward and a new creature appeared from the smoke. Your heart jumped as you saw wild red hair, electric blue eyes, sharp fangs, and…..wings? You stared in awe at the demon moving towards you. Magnificent wings encased his being. Pitch black feathers that looked like the tip of each one had been dipped in bright red blood.

Tears of relief streamed down your cheeks as he finally stood in front of the platform you were on. He broke eye contact with you and turned to the blacksmith. The brute who just a moment ago was eager to hold you down, now backed away in fear. Leo’s short whistle prompted the wolves to advance on the blacksmith. They lowered their bodies down, preparing to attack. The blacksmith backed up and turned quickly, wrapping his arm around your throat. He squeezed tightly, bringing even more tears to your eyes.

“Just a minute! What the hell is going on here?!” Your father’s voice rang over the crowd as he stepped around the people. Judging by his tone, he was drunk….again. “You have no right to be here demon! Leave us to our business!”

Leo stilled. His head turned slowly to your father. By this time, Norman had regained consciousness and stood behind your father. When Leo’s gaze met theirs they shrunk slightly. His eyes were completely black again.

“Your business?” Leo’s voice was raspy with anger and his fists clenched. “You have no business with her. She’s MY business. She wandered into MY forest. She IS mine.”

“Well….if you want her, you’ll have to compensate me!! I paid a good penny for that girl!” Norman spoke up from behind your father, clearly out of his mind.

“Fine. I won’t kill you. That will be your compensation. Now,” Leo turned back to you and the blacksmith. “release her before I burn this pitiful village to the ground, starting with you.”

The blacksmith squeezed his arm around your neck even tighter and your vision darkened. You heard a growl before the blacksmith screamed, resulting in him releasing you. You felt yourself falling but didn’t quite make it to the floor. Two arms wrapped around you and pulled you upright again. You looked up to see Leo’s face next to yours. He held you with one arm as he untied your hands with his free hand. Once they were free, you immediately clutched your shirt which was threatening to fall off completely. He removed the cloth from around your mouth and you pulled fresh air into your lungs.

A large coat seemingly appeared out of nowhere and Leo wrapped it around your shoulders before hauling you into his arms, careful not to touch the burn on your back. You placed your head on his shoulder, exhausted and relieved. You hadn’t expected him to come for you.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and Leo twitched. His arms tightened around you as he grunted. It took you a moment to realize that he’d been shot. You looked around his shoulder to see your father holding a rifle.

“Leo?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” You nodded and he turned, walking back towards the entrance of the town square.

Once he reached the village gate the world blurred. In an instant, you were on the plush couch in Leo’s living room. His wings were gone and his eyes were back to normal. He pulled the coat off your shoulders and turned you so he could see the burn from the iron brand. You flinched when you felt his fingers touch your skin. His fingers were cool against the damaged heat of your skin. You needed a distraction.

“I….I didn’t know you had wings.”

“I don’t really use them since I can teleport. I mostly use them to scare people out of the forest.”

“I don’t think they’re scary. I-I thought they were beautiful.” Your voice was low but you knew he’d heard you.

“Yes, well, you’re a bit different, aren’t you?” The pain in your back was subsiding and you almost fell over on the couch in relief. He turned you again and placed his hands around your wrists, taking a few moments to heal them.

“I’m sorry you had to expose yourself to the town. I know you like to stay hidden.”

“Well…I couldn’t just stand around while they tortured you. Besides, I don’t feel threatened by them. I doubt they’ll follow me into the forest anyway.” He stood up for a moment and went to the front door. He bent down and picked up something but you couldn’t see what it was.

A moment later, he stood in front of you again and extended his arm. In his hand was the bag you had taken from your house. You looked up at him in surprise.

“Serix brought it back. I am sorry that it took me so long to get to you. When you were attacked, Serix went after your parents but they got him pretty good. He managed to grab the bag but it took him a while to get back here.”

“Is he okay?!” You tried to get up, but the world started to tilt and forced you to sit back down.

“Be still. He’s okay. He’s resting. You should be doing the same.” He reached for you and, this time, didn’t teleport. Instead, he turned and carried you up the steps. He came to a stop when he reached your bed and placed you on the edge of it.

“Go ahead and wash up. You should have everything you need in there. I’ll put some food in the fridge in case you feel like eating later. But get some rest first, okay?” You nodded and he disappeared. You took a shower in record time and found that Leo had decent taste in clothing. Deciding that food was more important, you slowly made your way down the stairs. The light in the kitchen was still on and you hoped Leo wouldn’t scold you for choosing food over rest.

However, all thoughts of eating vanished when you stepped into the kitchen and saw Leo lying on the floor, deathly still.

[art3mislance-blog]

How Physics Scored Kim a Date

Here’s my entry for Trimberly Week! Also posted on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11643270 

          Everyone told me not to do it, that there were much easier courses that I could be taking to fulfill my physical science requirement. Take astronomy, geology, even food science. But no, I had to insist on taking the harder course so that she could prove her friends and family wrong. That I wasn’t just a pretty face, that I actually had a brain and not just looks and cheerleading skills. But I never expected it would be this hard.

           The course from hell that I was talking about was Physics 151: General Physics I. To the naked eye it seemed like a generic, easy gen-ed. But it was actually a two-faced bastard, made to cause procrastinating students to sign up without further investigation past the name, lulling them into a false sense of safety. That was until they showed up to the first day of class to find that it was not as easy it seemed to be, that this physics was the one for the engineering students, one of their prerequisites. Stupidly I had stayed in the class even after hearing this, I mean if a bunch of engineering freshman were taking the course, then surely I, a superior sophomore, could handle it. Right? God was I wrong.

           I got a C- on the first exam. My heart had jumped into my throat when I had seen that score staring back at me from my laptop screen. After that I had really buckled down and made sure that all my homework was done and that I was studying a little bit each day and attending every class. But it still wasn’t enough, I just scraped by with a solid C on the second exam. I still had two more exams in the semester and I needed a B+ on both of them to be able to get a good grade in the class. But at the rate I was going it didn’t seem like that would happen. I couldn’t even hate the teacher because he was really nice and understanding, but I just couldn’t seem to grasp the material.

           I groaned and ran my hand through my hair, still surprised a bit when my hand stopped short, unused to the short locks. I shouldered the door open, not even looking up at the old auditorium. It had been jam-packed with around three-hundred students for the first few days, but now only around sixty or so showed up. I bee-lined for my unassigned seat, second row, three in from the left. I shuffled in, slipping my bag off my shoulder, ready to throw it under my chair, only to stop short when a pair of legs come into view. I narrow my eyes and allow my eyes to travel upward. My heart stutters in my chest as I take in the girl who has claimed my seat. Her dark brown hair falls in waves to her shoulders, a yellow beanie covering her head. She’s decked out in a pair of skinny jeans and a yellow, plaid shirt to match her beanie. She’s doodling something in her notebook, lost in her own little world. Before I can even think I blurt out, “You’re in my seat.”

           I press my lips together, regretting saying it as soon as the words leave my mouth. The girl’s eyes lazily looks up at me, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

           “That’s my seat, I sit there every day,” I wave my hand at her, emphasizing the seat she’s in specifically.

           A smirk makes its way over her face and she leans forward, looking behind her. She scans the back of the seat for a moment before her eyes turn back to me, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I don’t see your name on it.”

           I huff, “I’ve been sitting there every class since the start of the semester.”

           She shrugs her shoulders, turning her attention back to her doodles. “Well you should have gotten here sooner, princesa. Besides there’s plenty of other seats open,” her eyes dart along the row, which is completely empty except for her.

           I frown, heaving a sigh before dropping my bag and taking the seat next to her. I pull the small desk out before I begin to riffle through my bag for my notebook and pen. When I have them and I’m all settled I look up to find the girl staring at me. “The entire row is empty and you had to take the seat right next to mine?”

           “I like the view from my seat and this is the closest thing that I’m going to get to it. If you’re going to steal my seat then you’re going to have to deal with me,” I say stubbornly.

           She glares at me for a moment, but I maintain eye contact, though it’s not easy. Her eyes are pools of chocolate and I could feel myself getting drawn into them. I want to allow myself to get lost in them, but at the same time I know I should look away, lest I scare her off. Thankfully she just narrows her eyes at me before dropping her eyes, going back to her doodle once again.

           For the next few minutes an awkward silence hangs over the two of us. She scratches away at her paper, doodling random things like lightning bolts to pass the time. Meanwhile I glance around the room, taking in all the bored faces, staring at their phones until the teacher starts the lesson. I soon get tired of this though and turnmy attention back to her, “I’m Kim by the way.”

           “Nice to know, princesa,” she mutters, not taking her eyes off of her paper.

           “You’re not going to tell me your name?” She glances over at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Unfortunately the teacher takes this moment to start teaching and I have to tear my eyes away from the beautiful stranger, diverting my full attention to the PowerPoint. I sit through the lesson, hastily writing everything I can down, barely understanding anything about it. I know that we’re learning the conservation of momentum, and I get the basic principle of it down. But when it comes to the practice problems he shows I can’t make head or tales of it.

           By the end of the lesson my hand was cramped from all the scribbling I had been doing and I tighten it into a first before relaxing it, trying to ease the ache. “You really like physics, huh?” the mystery girl asks, causing me to jump lightly.

           A snort breaks past my lips before I can stop it, “Quite the opposite, actually.” She raises an eyebrow at me, “I’m actually doing horribly in the class, I need to pay attention to try and get better than a C on my next exam.”

           She furrows her brows, zipping up her bag before standing. I follow suit and we both shuffle out of the row, slowly walking out behind the other students. I figure that is the end of our conversation and that we’ll part ways once outside the building, but she surprises me when she asks, “I could, uh help you sometime if you like.”

           I shoot her an incredulous look, “You don’t even like me!”

           She frowns at my words, “Why do you say that?”

           I roll my eyes, starting to walk in the direction of the dinning common. “You won’t even tell me your name for starters.”      

           She rolls her eyes at me, checking her watch. “Look I have chem in five minutes, we can talk more during class on Wednesday.” With that she abruptly turns and starts speed walking away.

           “I still don’t know your name!” I yell out.

           “See you Wednesday, princesa!” she calls over her shoulder.

             Giddy excitement rushes through me, I haven’t been this excited to go a physics class since, well, ever. Next to me Jason nudges my shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows at me, “Getting pumped to see your girlfriend?”

           I ram my shoulder into him, making him stumble to the side. “She’s not my girlfriend, and can’t I just be excited for physics?”

           “No you hate the class,” he deadpans, “Besides, all I’ve heard for the past day and a half is about this sarcastic little shit in your physics class who stole your seat. Going on and on about how beautiful her eyes are, how her raspy voice is just great, and-”

           I punch his shoulder, “Shut up, so maybe I have a crush on this mystery girl, but nothing’s going to come of it. I don’t even think she likes me.”

           He shoots me a glare as he rubs his shoulder, “Dude she said she’d help you in physics, if she hated you she definitely wouldn’t be signing up to spend more time with you.”

           He’s got a point, even though everything else about our interaction makes me believe that I’m just a nuisance to her there’s no denying the fact that she offered to spend more time with me. Clearly she can’t dislike me that much, right? Unless she plans on making fun of me the whole time for being unable to grasp General Physics. I groan, “I’ll see you later, Jace.”

           He sends me an encouraging smile before I break away from him to head into Hasbrouck, the building I have come to loathe. When I make my way into the auditorium I find that the mystery girl is in my seat again, glancing up at the door. We make eye contact for a moment before she looks away, a bit of pink tinging her cheeks. My hope rises, maybe I do have a chance after all.

           I make my way over to the seat next to her, hesitating for only a moment before sitting down. “Hey there, Sarah.”

           She turns to me, confusion plastered all over her face. “Who’s Sarah?”

           I shrug, “Not you, I guess. I don’t know your name so I thought I’d give it a go.”

           She rolls her eyes at me, “So you’re struggling with physics?”

           Deflecting I can deal with that, “Yeah it’s not my strong suit, I took it to get rid of a gen-ed. Obviously it’s not my strong suit, unlike you Carry.”

           She sighs in exasperation, “Not my name, princesa. Besides, physics not for everyone, what’s your major?

           “Journalism, how about you, Lucy?”

           She groans, “Would you quit it with the names?”

           “Not until you tell me yours,” I shoot back.

           She just shakes her head at me, “I’m a mechanical engineering major,” she mutters, “So what are you struggling with?”

           I shrug, “The problems, I guess. I usually can understand the theory behind everything, but when it comes to putting it to action I crash and burn.”

           She nods, biting her lip. My breathe catches, oh god was it hot in here or was it me? Actually it’s the mystery girl, she was definitely causing the room to go up a few degrees with her presence. I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry as I find myself staring.

“Kim!” she says, snapping her fingers in my face.

I blink, dragging my eyes away from her lips up to her eyes. “I can’t meet with you tonight at 4 if you want? We could go to the library and I can see if I can help you.”

           “Really?!?” I ask, excitement evident in my tone. I throw my arms around her without thinking, “You are literally a life saver!” She squirms in my grip and I let her go, unable to stop smiling. “I can pay you if you want? I’d feel bad if you helped me with nothing in return.”

           The girl hesitates for a moment, her hands playing with a hairband, showing her nerves. “Well you could buy me dinner, in return.”

           Oh my god. Did she mean as in a date? Was I making this up? I didn’t even know this freaking girls name, Christ I had only known her for a few days. But god would I love to take her out on a date. “D-dinner?” I somehow manage to squeak out.

           She blushes and turns red, dropping her face down to her notebook. “Forget it, it was a stupid idea.”

           “No!” I yell, drawing the attention of a few people in the area, I don’t care though because a pretty girl might have just asked me on a date and I can’t let her think that I don’t want it. “I would love to have dinner with you! Would, uh, would it be a date?” My voice cracks on the word date and I cringe, god I just sounded like a fifteen-year old boy.

           She looks at me through her lashes, biting her lip once again. “Yeah, as a date.”

           A grin stretches across my face. “Deal, but only if you tell me your name.”

           She rolls her eyes at me, but holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

           “That’s not your name,” I shoot back, even though I’m unlocking my phone and handing it to her anyway. She rolls her eyes at me and takes the phone. She messes around with it for a moment before handing it back to me.

           I look down at it to find that she has created a new contact and sent a text to herself with my name. I quickly look at the top of the screen to find the name Trini with a yellow heart next to it. I grin, turning back to her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Trini.”

[mindpalaceofcorina]

Vigilante

Ok, so it’s been a loooong time since I last posted something. To be honest, I hit a writer’s block. This is something that popped into my head while I was in Mexico last year. Honestly, I don’t know how this will be received. I may delete it. I don’t even know what categorize it. I know I write smut, but this is not one of them. Sorry.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: roughness (?)

Notes: There’s a brief part where the reader gets sexually harassed (breast grabbed). That’s it. I swear, I’m not condoning anything nor does the story go to, I believe, an uncomfortable place. This is something different that my brain came up with and I needed to type out. Again, I may delete it. Please do not hesitate to tell me off if it’s bad.

Looking up at the clock on the wall, you saw the second hand ticking closer to the big hand, ready to move it over the eleventh hour. You look to the window, seeing the moon creeping over the building across from yours, realizing that you hadn’t stepped out of the office building all day. Today consisted of a few, but long, meetings and papers that needed to be filed, typed or signed. You had barely gotten a break for yourself to eat and catch your breath. With a sad sigh, you clicked off your desk lamp and walked over to the elevators.

There was a chilly breeze in the night, making you hug yourself for warmth as your heels' tap tap tap echoed down the street. You felt nervous to be out late at this hour of the night. You weren't on the bad side of the city, but that didn't keep thieves away from looking for pockets to pick here. You calmed your nerves by distracting yourself with the thought of a warm bath you had waiting at home.

"With a glass of red wine and everything will be fine," you whispered to yourself.

The sound of a can rattling from behind startled you. You looked back to see it being softly pushed across the street by the breeze. You shook off the goosebumps and picked up your speed. Ahead, you could see the lights of downtown getting closer and felt yourself relaxing with each step. Local business stores were closed on both sides of the street, but a few had their lights on at the windows to provide you with just enough illumination for some guidance. 

You passed an alleyway and counted it as the second last to pass before reaching the subway station’s entrance. In the distance, you could hear cars honking and people’s voices being carried in the breeze. You felt your stomach growled at the scent of food making its way towards you.

“Ugh, hopefully there’s a food stand still open nearby.”

With food on your mind, you almost missed the sound of footsteps coming from behind. They were quiet at first, but began to sound closer and matching yours. You tried not to show discomfort, but walked faster. When you did, the footsteps did the same.

“Don’t panic. Maybe it’s just someone else coming out of work late, too.”

You were getting closer to the last alleyway. Just a couple more steps and you’ll be safe.

“Don’t look back. Just keep going. Don’t look--”

You looked back and saw a tall man in a coat with his head hunched down, face hidden behind a baseball cap. Before turning back, you saw him look up and smile.

RUN.

You clutched your purse and ran. You internally scolded yourself for choosing today to wear a knee-length skirt. 

“Just a little more! Just--”

A pain digging into your left shoulder abruptly stopped you. You were pulled back into the alleyway and shoved up against the building wall, your hands being pulled up and held over your head.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. A pretty bird all by herself,” the man chuckled.

“P-please. L-let me go. You can have whatever is in my purse. J-just-- I won’t call the police! Just let me go, please!”

“Oh, but I was thinking we could have a little fun first,” the man purred.

Hot tears began to brim, and roll down your cheeks. You struggled against the man, desperately trying for a loose end to escape. He growled and shoved you against the wall once more, roughly tilting your chin up to look at you.

Looking into his dark eyes, your mind began racing through horrible, ugly thoughts. You looked to the street, internally yelling and praying for someone to pass by.

“It’s just you and me pretty bird,” the man chuckled.

He moved your wrists together into one of his hands, using the free one to roughly grab your breast through your shirt.

“Please- Please no.” You pushed against him to no avail. “Let me go!!”

“Not before I make you sing pretty bird.”

“No. I’m gonna make you sing,” a deep voice growled from the shadows.

“Wha--”

Before you knew it, something grabbed the man by his head and dragged him back into the shadows. It was too dark for you to see, but you could hear the man grunting and the sound of his bones breaking.

“Ah please! No more! I won’t- won’t touch her again,” the man cried. “I won’t come back! J-just please, no more!”

Silence. You could hear your heart thudding, your breathing, erratic.

“AHH!”

The man was thrown against the building behind you, falling limp on the ground. The deep voice from the shadows stepped forward and you could see the moon reflecting off, what seemed like, a metal arm. Shocked, you stumbled backwards and ran out of the alleyway. You ran past the entrance to the subway and kept running until a taxi abruptly stopped in front of you. You had ran into the middle of the road.

“Hey! Watch where y--! Hey, are you ok?”

You looked behind you, scared that the mystery man was following you.

“(Address), please,” you frantically ordered the taxi driver.

You opened the back door and hopped in. The taxi driver didn’t hesitate and sped off to his new destination. You watched the lights go by through the window, feeling the taxi driver’s eyes on you every so often. Feeling self-conscious, you hugged yourself.

When you felt his eyes again, you turned to catch his glance in the rear view mirror and, instead, noticed your own eyes. Dry mascara streaks ran down your cheeks, your eyes were red and your hair was a mess. Embarrassed, you attempted to clean yourself up without being obvious. 

“We’re here,” announced the taxi driver.

You felt for your purse and realized you had left it behind in the alleyway. Shit.

“I’m sorry, I left my purse. Just give me a m--”

“Don’t worry about it, hon. Just get yourself inside,” he responded softly.

Tears brimmed and you gave him a tiny smile before stepping out of the taxi, sprinting to the doors of your apartment complex. You walked in and over to the elevators and pressed for the third floor.

Stepping off onto your floor, you walked to the second door on the left, looking both ways before grabbing the spare key you hid behind the lamp on the wall. With shaky hands, you unlocked the door, closed it shut and bee lined to your bathroom. You quickly shed off your clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the knob all the way to the left.

Hot water streamed down your body, washing away the awful memories of tonight’s event. You tilted your face up at the waterfall and let your tears run along the water. You let out the sob you’ve been holding back, leaning on the bathroom wall for support.

A half hour later, your sobs had turned to hiccups, prompting you to step out. Using your hand to wipe off steam on the mirror, you saw your puffy red eyes and plumped lips. Annoyed, you walked out to your living room. You went to stand in front of your patio slide door, looking out to see the half-full moon surrounded by stars. You didn’t know if you should report what happened to the police. Fear and goosebumps began to build up at the thought of having to recount tonight. You wanted to call in sick for work tomorrow, fearing the man will be waiting for revenge.

You reached up for the blind’s wand, ready to close them when something flashed in the corner of your eye. You saw something move by the tree you had planted in your backyard.

“Oh my god, is it him? The man from the shadows? DID HE REALLY FOLLOW ME?”

Frozen in place, you watched as the black shadow walked towards you, and stopped just before reaching the moonlight. Crouching, the shadow pushed forward a bag with his boot. Your purse. You blinked in confusion as the shadow stepped back to where he had stood. 

“He...returned my purse?”

Keeping your eyes on the corner of your backyard, you slid open the door. You weren’t sure if this was a trap or he was genuinely returning your purse.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” answered the shadow. “I-- You left your purse behind and, I hope you don’t mind, I looked inside to find your license so I could return it.”

You blinked at him. 

“Really. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Still doubting, you slowly stepped forward and reached down for your purse. You turned around to quickly walk back inside.

“Wait,” he said, stopping you in your tracks. “Are you ok? Did he...he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No.”

“Good. He won’t be showing his face anymore.”

You turned back to face him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m-- Bucky.” He took slow steps towards you.

“Bucky. That’s an unusual name,” you pondered. “Thank you, Bucky. Thank you...for saving me tonight.”

At this point, Bucky was a mere steps in front of you, still in the shadows. But you could see that he had long, short, hair and was bulked. The light was still able to reach him and bounced off his left metal arm.

“No need to, m’am,” he bowed his head.

“I-- I’m scared,” your voiced cracked. You didn’t know why you were spilling yourself to this stranger, but it felt comforting in a way. “I’m-I’m scared that I’m gonna see him again.”

“No. You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”

You felt a tear escape and roll down your cheek.

“I-I can stay, if you like. Out here, I mean. I can keep watch, if that’ll make you feel better.”

You felt guilty for making him do such a thing, but honestly, it would be the only way you’d be able to get some sleep.

“I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Are you sure? I--”

“Positive. You should get some rest. It’s late.”

You gave him a tiny smile and walked back inside. Before closing the blinds, you watched as he walked back to the tree, seeing him lean on it. You pointed to a folded chair that was against the wall, indicating for him to use it. You gave him a small wave before closing the blinds.

Moments later after you had made sure everything was off and locked, you climbed under your bed sheets. You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. Had he been watching you? Or was he one of those superheroes that the news reported everyday? Could he be trusted? Whoever he was, you were glad he had showed up at the right time. Although Bucky was outside your window, you still feared the awful man. But Bucky said he was going to make sure the man wouldn’t return. You hoped. Your eyes became droopy, exhaustion lulling you to sleep.

The sun’s rays peeked through your window curtains, waking you. Jerking up, you remembered last night. Climbing out of bed, you rushed to the backyard. Bucky was nowhere to be seen. You looked around your small backyard, looking for any signs that he had been here. Before walking back inside, you noticed a blue flower sitting in the same spot he had put your purse. You reached down and took it as your sign. Holding it up to your nose, you thanked the skies for his security and hoped you would soon see him again.

If you reached the end, thank you for taking your time to read this. I know there’s many mistakes, I’m sorry! I hope you liked it, kinda. Again, thank you!

[imheresothedeadcanrestinpea-blog]

Do strong female characters still exists?

It’s me again. Been a while, right? well... this post has been created thanks to a random thought in my brain were I compared Sarah (from Labyrinth) and Tauriel (yes, her again, I know that many years have passed but I’m still pissed by her existence).

So what do we understand by “Strong Female Character” or, better yet, what do we want as one?

Lately the entertainment industry has placed in our brains that a Strong Woman is the one who can kick ass just as good as a man. Is it like that? My answer is no.

A Strong Character (male or female) is the one that doesn’t give up no matter if the odds are on it’s favor or not. Someone who literally has the world against but is still ready to fight in the name of whatever he or she protects because deep down he/she knows is the right thing to do according to his/her morals. It’s quite important to highlight the “ is the right thing to do according to his/her morals” so we don’t fall through the ilussion that everything this character does is good or in name of a greater good: no everybody is goodie-goodie, you know... a villain can -and should- be a strong character too. He/she must evolve by learning from his/her mistakes and assume the consecuences of his/her actions. Doesn’t it sounds more compelling than an “super awesome strong character”? It does to me.

Strong Female Character

In the field of “women inside fictional stories” you can find the typical “Damsel in Distress”, the (so feared) “Mary Sue” and, I’d like to believe, the “Strong Female”.

For several years the Damsel in Distress was the norm. That virginal, pure, sweet girl or princess that had to be rescued from the claws of evil so she could live happily ever after in the arms of her beloved was The Thing. She was a role model back on the day when girls had to marry beasts (that sometimes were kind of a good guy after all) like Belle, or “be nice” like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snowhite. Beeing physically weak was (apparently) quite appealing in a young woman and it was even better if she was ill as well (nothing to serious,off course, but enough for her to lie in a couch all day suffering... and I’m not making this up, I’ve read it in Agatha Christie’s autobiography. She complains more than once of how her grandmother seemed to wanted her to embody Camille’s -or La Dame aux Camélias- lead character so she could get a husband). All of us has seen this girl at least once.

Time passed by and women became a little more powerful year after year. And no, I didn’t made a big jump from 1700′s to the final days of 2016. I’m talking about those women who started to write and, while doing it, creating a new place for women. Louisa May Alcott, the Brontë sisters, Jane Austen, Mary Shelley are the names that all of us know and many might have read -I didn’t, I’ve only read Shelley’s Frankenstein, the others are not my cup of tea- and I’m quite sure that there are many many more. With them Strong Females were born. I know, “all of them dressed in pretty dresses and had no violent action nor knew how to fight... how could they be Strong Females?” well... maybe because they were always fighting to have a voice? or because they were trying to break the tradition of beeing a daugther to become a wife and later a mother? Jo March, trying to be a writer and not caring if anyone said that she wasn’t feminine enough (when she cuts her hair to get some money or because she whistles!), not to mention certain sacrifices she (and her sisters) do to live day by day, is a strong character. Would you deny it? Maybe she’s not “the one” that will end an evil goverment, she won’t beat the crap out of her enemies nor will face the world alone holding nothing but a pocket-knife... but she’s strong and anyone can relate herself with her (and a young woman who doesn’t like “Little Women” and never could read beyond the chapter of the party at Laurie’s -after trying to read the book twice- is saying that!). Josephine March can kick some serious Strong Female’s asses today and she was “born” in 1868! Those were real Strong Females and that’s why nowdays they are still considerated role models -maybe-.

The All Mighty Mary Sue: now we found a big jump in time... times where women gotta be everything (good, pure and innocent at the same time that she’s a master assasin who can kill a hundred men blindfolded in the middle of the dark). I know that “Mary Sue” has becomed pretty much a curse word specially among those who write this type of characters -or at least enjoy them-. No-one likes to say that they like a token character that is as empty as the head of a Barbie doll and brings nothing to the story beyond her charming presence. Ok, there is another kind of Mary Sue, the Lead Character, she and her issues are the main reason why the story exists (Bella Swan from Twilight is a good example). In both roles (side character or main one) she’s worthless and depends A LOT of the men around her. Main Character Bella is nothing without her relationship with Edward, Jacob and her dad. Sure, she’s got some female friends but, in comparison with those three guys, she hardly talks to them. How do you think the book would’ve been without the love story and the differences with her dad? Side Character Tauriel (sorry, I can’t help it) is nothing without her relationships with Thranduil, Legolas and Kili. And she has NO female friends. What other version of this character could’ve existed without all of it?

Strong Females in movies

As I said, lately we had wave after wave of “strong female characters” that are just amaizing in everything they do and, sometimes, are even better than the men around them. Is it bad? No, but it could be a big “yes” depending on the story or in how often we get to see it.

All movies nowdays seem to believe that having a super-powerful woman is good and having a more “traditional” one is as bad as having a damsel in distress. Times have changed, I know, we do not need to “have” a man to be someone as it used to happen in the ‘50s... we can save ourselves, we can use guns, we can fight but does that mean that we are strong? Physically strong: sure... Strong-strong? not quite.

Of course it’s awesome to see a good fight on a movie (I quite enjoy them) but beyond the fantastic moves of this character we love is there anything to back it up? Is there a good reason to take that road? Was there a better choice? Here’s the random thought on my brain that made me write this article. Scene comparison ahead:

Labyrinth (1986):

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies (2014)

Let’s see... In both cases the heroines (filled with anger while thinking of calling Tauriel like that) find themselves against someone who doesn’t let them go on or their journey to save a baby brother (Sarah) or hot dwarf  a bunch of dwarves (Tauriel). In both cases this obstacle is an authority figure, Sir Didymus -guardian of the bridge- and Thranduil, the Elvenking. It’s the same dilemma... but two different reactions. Sarah, a teenager, chooses to talk to the guardian, to be reasonable with him so she can get his permision... and she has it! Tauriel, an adult elf, chooses to shut up and threatens the King’s life.

“You idiot! Tauriel is trying to save the dwarves lifes, there’s no time to talk and be nice! It’s a war!” Oh, really? What if I tell you that Sarah only has 13 hours to save her baby brother before he turns into a goblin? Actually maybe she has less than three hours to save him in that scene, considerating that sometime later we see a 13 hours clock marking 11 sharp. She doesn’t have that much time does she? We saw that Ludo defeated Sir Didymus and that he’s also capable of holding him in his hand, Sarah could’ve easily asked Ludo to hold him until she crossed the bridge... heck! she could’ve kicked Sir Didymus out of her way and cross! But she didn’t because she didn’t needed another enemy behind her and she had no reasons to be a jerk. Tauriel decided that convincing her King to help her was a waste of time. After all why a man that knows her, raised her, gave her a job, and send his son to get her back to his kingdom (so she wouldn’t get into trouble) would care about her or her needs? He’s a  cold hearted King, after all (major eye roll).

Which one is the strongest (and again, we’re not talking about physical strength)? The one that chooses to be gentle and polite or the one that chooses brutal force? It can be resumed in this: wisdom or brutality?

It’s quite funny that the question of wisdom or brutalilty shows up since Tauriel is a Silvan Elf, and they are -as said by Tolkien- less wise and more dangerous. As I said before “less wise” doesn’t mean “stupid” nor means “savage” as everybody seems to believe. Tolkien was reffering to the way of living of this elves, who turned away from the Valar’s invitation to join them and decided to live in a more “natural” way. A possible paralel to our society would be the hippie movement... we wouldn’t call them savages, would we?

As a character that was created to show how merceful we are it’s quite shocking to see Tauriel taking such a violent turn to get what she wants. The worst thing now is that we (anti-Tauriel people) can’t even say that that’s how teenagers behave, since Sarah in her 15s has shown the opposite reaction.

I ask you: of all the movies you’ve seen this year... did all the women took the high road instead of the easy one -that one beeing beating the crap out of someone to get what they wanted-? If violence was used: was this choice the only option? Did them had a really good reason to do so? If the answer is a “yes” congratulations! you’ve watched a movie with a strong female character (or at least, a good try to be one).

Can a Female Strong Character fall in love?

Of course she can!

Many people believe that their favourite females are criticized because they’ve fallen in love. Once Upon a Time said it first: love is not weakness, it’s strength. Everything’s OK if the girl loves someone, the problem begins when this love is the only reason why she moves a finger or when there’s nothing more for her than it or when love blinds her and makes her take stupid choices (and even forget her awesome set of skills).

Believe it or not, there’s a title for those strong females that after falling in love became -pretty much- damsels in distress or that were never intended to be Strong Females: Trinity Syndrome (you can read more about it here)

A strong female who falls in love? Glad you ask. The first one that comes to my mind is Lisbeth Salander from the Millennium Trilogy by Stieg Larsson, she goes through hell and yet falls in love but it never really affects her personality in a negative way (she was distant to people around her and opens up to Mikael -the guy she loves- but only with him and SPOILER ALERT once her heart breaks she’s still the same one). What about Princess Leia (RIP Carrie Fisher) she was tough, and smart and completly capable of comanding a group of rebels... but she falls in love anyway and it doesn’t change her at all. Any ot Tolkien’s women who fall in love are still the same and because of their love they push the boundaries and accomplish great deeds (Lúthien), others doesn’t need to fall in love to do so (Éowyn, Haleth). There are many more examples, sadly no so many from the last decade.

I’d like to do just one more comparison before finish this part.

Singin’ in the rain (1952)

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)

Both of them ended up facing the love of their lives (yikes! in Tauriel’s case). Both men think that only because of their looks (probably) they got the girl and will live together happily ever after but first, they have to charm her and both go the wrong way with sexual innuendos, touches and glances. Kathy Selden (RIP Debbie Reynolds) knows what’s going on and thinks of the best way to get out of such situation, she even uses physical strength when it’s needed. She won’t let a men to get his way with her. Tauriel knows what’s going on and decides to go on with the game... say what? Girl, you hardly know him! He could be a dangerous prisioner... and you’re flirting with him? How did you get the title of Captain of the Guard? I wonder if any orc has pulled such a move on her and if she reacted the same way.

Again, we have a strong female and a female (I’ll even say that she’s how men would love to see women behave).

Conclussion

So? Do they still exists? Yes, I think. There aren’t many, but every now and then one shows up (Lisbeth Salander is the last one I’ve meet so far).

What about all the other women in the movies and books? They could be strong characters if the writers could put a little more effort. So far we have the male idealization of a woman (you know: super hot, awesome fighter, love-sick puppy, independent but not that much) and the female version of this male idealization (fighter, sometimes insecure, lives to love her man and protect him, etc). It’s quite scary if we see them like that. I wouldn’t be frightened if all girls grew up the way I did; I know, I’m not the best example out there, but I know that I was taught not to let anyone (male or female) to put me down or to “show me my place”. And this teaching came from my family, not movies, TV shows or books (at least not in my early years) this three tools were for entertainment purposes, nothing more.

Today we live in a different world were the image prevails and this is the same world were parents have no time to be with their kids or doesn’t know how to prepare them for the world out there or don’t want to be the kind of parents that smother their kids by controlling what they watch or read because that will make them “bad parents”. It’s not like that, kids depend on us all. WE have to be their role models, not a character or toy. How come that I grew up playing with my Barbie dolls and I don’t want to be a supermodel or blonde or super skinny? Because I had a good education at home. How is it possible that I grew up watching and admiring the Disney’s princesses and yet I’m not looking for Prince Charming nor I care if I look like them or not? Because I was taught the difference between a movie and the real life. I also learned, many years later, that gender doesn’t matter: if a character has a good set of morals we can apply them too... who cares if said character was a men or a woman?

I wish that newer generations could be able to learn that you have to be yourself, that makes you strong not your ability with the sword but the reason why you’re using it and the fears you’re facing.

I wish that newer generations wouldn’t need a Strong Female Character because they’ll be their own.