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schrijverr · 1 year ago

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It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

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tactical-jellyfish · 5 months ago

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Wisdom Teeth (drabble)

I've been mean to y'all. Too much angst. Take some fluff for the winter (me having a test this week)

Warnings!: Wisdom tooth removal. Bloody spit, at one point reader is in enough pain to verbally request an opioid pill. Pain and pain medication. Fluffy <3 prob leads up to poly, they're fruitcakes about it.

The SAS teams have had to pause ops for a wide, wide range of reasons. The odd health complication is very much among them.

That being said, Price never thought he would have to pause a mission because one of his star players got a wisdom tooth infected.

You had been off on Tuesday, chewing on only one side of your mouth and not drinking anything that was even a little hotter than room temp.

Kyle gave you funny looks for it, but that was all.

Wednesday, you didn't leave your room for much at all, but that was fine. Resting up before an op wasn't uncommon. Simon did it all the time.

However, at some point between you disappearing and Johnny saying he heard crying from your room all bets were off.

The door was kicked in, to reveal a grown sergeant, teary-eyed and crying a little as they clutched their cheek with a hand.

Kyle was already at your side, trying to coax you to open your mouth for some painkillers. It wasn't working well.

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

You cried a little before the surgery. Maybe out of nervousness, maybe out of pain, but the nice nurse was kind enough to ignore it as she explained that you would be waking up in a few hours down four whole teeth.

She explained it to you as you sat in the stupid fucking chair, she repeated it as she gently tucked a I.V. with a small blister containing medicine into the veins of your arm.

"Alright, first the anti-anxiety drug will be administered, okay?"

She doesn't wait for your confirmation, but gently pats your shoulder and continues.

"You should start to feel a bit fuzzy, then, you'll sleep."

It takes a few sickening seconds for you to actually feel the drugs kicking in. You want to get out of this chair, to scream at something.

You never liked the dentist.

But then... the world starts to fade out. It's like you're being locked out of your body as your mind turns itself off.

You hear her counting with the surgeon–a much more awkward woman, though no less polite.

Three.

Two.

On-

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

The waking up is slow, and messy.

Cotton pads lie in either of your cheeks, and you can't do much but oblige as the nurse gently coaxes you into a wheelchair, giving instructions to the bearded man who's standing in the corner.

"Make sure they don't sleep for at least a couple hours, okay? I know it'll be hard, but try to have them keep pressure on the site."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remember the usual course, and we're also giving you five opioid pills. Only in case it gets really bad."

"Affirmative."

You know this voice, but when you see the boonie hat and the slightly furrowed brows, a spark of muffled recognition fires off beneath the haze of anesthetic and misery.

"...Old man."

Your voice is slurred, foreign to even you at this point, but he seems to know it, because he sighs frustratedly before taking the chair by the handles and steering your down the hallway out.

"I swear to- mgh, olright. Better than Soap at least."

You're loaded into the back seat of the car with the most basic consideration.

Dumped in like a sack of flour, actually. Your butt hurts now, but there's Kyle.

He snorts when he sees you, reaches forward to wipe whatever is dripping from the corner of your mouth.

It's bloody spit, but he doesn't seem surprised.

The car ride back to base is quiet, but Kyle keeps you awake.

Beyond that, there's nothing you can remember. Not till the next morning.

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

Johnny is perched at your bedside, scrolling through his phone until he sees your eyes blearily opening, hears your groaning as you recognize a new pain in your cheeks, and he gently coaxes your mouth open to take out the bloody gauze.

"Och, there ye are, bonnie wee thing. You look like an eejit, just thought ye needed to know."

Your tired glare is met with a laugh, but followed shortly by a pat to the shoulder.

"A'hm kiddin', leannan. Just jokin' with ye. Brought ye breakfast."

He holds up a small container of yogurt, shakes it like one would cat treats to entice a stray. You grimace as much as your painfully swollen cheeks allow, but when you open your mouth to tell him off, there's a sharp twinge that makes you close it.

This seems to earn Johnny's sympathies, because he gently guides you so you're sitting up on the bed, holding one of your shaky hands as he peels back the foil on the cup.

"Easy. Still fresh, aye?"

Your wet-eyed nod is met with a sympathetic huff.

"Aye. Dinnae fash. I'll help ye."

You should smack him for implying that you need help eating yogurt, of all things, but... you kind of do need the help.

Your body is still lethargic, sluggishly stumbling through its tasks with hazy edges and poor motor control.

He raises a glass of water to your lips, and has you take a few sips.

Breakfast takes a long time, but before you fall asleep again, he gently sets a painkiller in your mouth, and tells you to swallow.

When you do, he smiles, and bends down to kiss your forehead while you drift back off.

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

So, here's something you didn't know before getting your wisdom teeth out.

You can't swallow for a couple days.

It's gross, yeah, but you're supposed to drool out the bloody spit in your mouth, so you don't get dry socket.

Thankfully, Kyle is there for this.

He sweeps your hair back as much as possible (to the point of getting bobby pins from the corner store for the baby hairs), and rubs your back as you drool out your toothpaste.

"I feel disgusting."

"I know, luv. You're not gonna feel good for a while."

Still, his mother's cure is the only thing he trusts himself enough to use on you. Warm, salty water. A childhood staple.

He's sympathetic to your plights, rubbing your back again as you clumsily swish it by turning your head to the sides, cheeks too swollen to move properly.

"Good job. One more."

A firm, warm hand pats your back again as you "spit" (if you can even call it that) for the final time, offering a sweet smile just for you.

"Perfect. Now you can lay back again, yeah? Nice n' easy."

You're not suffering like you were yesterday. It's new.

Your motor function is back, just sluggish.

No, no, your biggest issue right now is the swelling. Your cheeks were so puffy it hurt, and you had them on ice as often as you could.

This is where you have to thank the lord for John Price. Your captain, distant as he can be, must have at least three sets of cheek-size ice pads, because every time you come into your room, there's a new, fresh set waiting for you.

Kyle gently guides you to sit in your bed, offering a sympathetic smile as he eases you backward until you hit the pillow-ramp Johnny had built so your head would be upright.

"You wanna sleep, luv?"

"No."

Your voice is still quiet, limited by your stupid cheeks, but he smiles anyway, and sits next to you.

"You wanna hang out, then?"

"Yes."

The afternoon is good, for you.

Kyle is there. The whole time.

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

Of course, every surgery comes with the odd fuck-up.

No one should be up, but you're going insane with pain.

It's a sharp, stabbing thing, focused in the gum of your lower right jaw. Almost as sharp as the tooth's initial infection, but more than enough to bring significant distress.

Simon is an odd man, and you two have never been the closest, but when he opens your door in a t-shirt and boxers, you don't even care a little bit.

"Wha's happenin'?"

The Mancunian gruffs concernedly at you, watching as you hold your cheek and shakily take in vain breath in the hopes of calming yourself.

"Get an opioid, Lt. Please."

"Fawk."

Right after that, he's off like a horse to the races, and you're in the silence again, holding your cheek as you try to ignore the way your eyes swim with tears that you refuse to shed.

It's a mercifully short two minutes, even if it feels like half an hour.

Simon's hands are gentle, opening your jaw and setting the horse-pill on your tongue, looking into your wet eyes as he raises the glass to your lips.

"I know, I know. Jus' swallow."

He stays with you as you pant for the breath you've lost, wide, scarred hands on your shoulders.

He exaggerates his own breathing so you see the clear rise and fall of his chest. His lips lose their frown as you slowly start to mimic it.

The dispersal of the pain med is fast, thank goodness, but then Simon has a tired you to deal with, still trembling in the fingers from the sudden spike of debilitating pain, though you can't feel it.

"Are those skeleton boxers?"

He's starting to think your favorite pastime is asking stupid fucking questions, but still, some part of him feels relief.

You could have asked about the lack of mask, but you didn't. You just wanted to know about the halloween boxers.

"Sergeant."

His voice isn't as firm as it should be, but when he sees your exhausted look, he still sits down on the mattress with you.

"Stay. Jus' till I fall asleep."

You don't have the balls to ask for it. Not when you're this vulnerable. So you treat it like an order.

Simon won't be chewing you out for it.

Not now.

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

Kyle and Johnny stand in the doorway to your room, snickering to themselves.

Never thought they would see big boy Lt with the firecracker that drove him up the wall, surely.

Still, after taking a couple pictures (blackmail for Johnny, photo album for Kyle), they just... stand and stare a little.

"Ye ken... we could jus'... join in?"

Johnny poses the question. Kyle nods.

"Yeah. To make sure they're sleeping well."

They both know damn well that's not why. But fuck it, a cuddle pile never hurt anyone.

Especially not you, considering how gentle the pair are when maneuvering your sleeping form.

If Simon opened his eyes and just so happened to see this buffoonery in action, he closed them right back up after.

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

Price sighs in exasperation when he sees it, but smiles as he tips down his cap just a little.

"Fuckin' rookie. Gonna be the death of me."

But he knows you won't. Because he sees the way Simon's lips curve up in sleep, or the way Johnny and Kyle cling to you.

He should call Laswell, finalize your placement.

The boys wouldn't complain.

#x reader #tf 141 x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #x gn reader #oh my god it's just fluff #everyone loves them #they have no opps #Reader is well-taken care of and adored.

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rel124c41 · 1 year ago

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THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE IS THRILLING, AND I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF IT. jade leech

♛: It’s coming. It is the end of the world, armageddon and doom’s day. It is the feeling of walls closing all around. It is like missing on a pre-order sale of a figure you had coveted for months! It’s coming. Crashing right into Idia. Jade places a hand on his shoulder and Idia fights with the sudden numbness in his legs. “Idia Shroud. How fortunate of me to have run into you.”

tags: mind manipulation, emotional constipation, pining, not actually unrequited love, pop culture refrences, manga & anime, male-female friendship, board gmae club (twst), fights

Azul and the word ‘mistakes’ are oil and water. They keep themselves separated from one another, boundaries drawn quite clearly. Though it has been his pride since his first year attending Night Raven College, Azul cannot always be there during its operating hours. Schedules eventually collide and two events overlap. And though it was an honest mistake of Azul’s to forget a club meeting, Jade was surprised to see which had reigned more important to his house-warden's attention.

“Keep a keen eye on the bar. Most tables are already in rotation for waiters. I do not anticipate any unruly customers this evening,” Azul says, folding the scarf five times in his arm.

Dorm coat draped on his chair and dorm hat rested on the hanger, it seems evident that Azul will actually be leaving. Of course, Monstro Lounge has managed to sail without her captain. It has perhaps experienced a few scratches in the helm but nothing more. Truthfully, the worst she had suffered was under the hand of her own captain during his incident. Jade smiles at the memory: tables splintered down the middle, a flower field of glass shards, dehydrated fish upon the marble floor. Since then, nothing that they cannot handle! But still Jade wants to push, just a bit!

“And if we have the misfortune of taking in an unamiable student?”

It is unlikely to happen. Today is a Tuesday, they are not in the middle of any exam season and no holidays are around the corner. Today is perhaps one of the most quotidian days of the year.

“The same old, same old, you know. Call in Floyd if you need assistance. No stains this time.”

“And if Floyd is wrapped up in something else? Would you really leave me here, with no protection?” Jade puts his fingers to his lips and bats his eyelashes once. “Poor and unfortunate me.”

Azul makes his way to the door and fixes him with a glare. “No stains this time,” he repeats.

“Of course.”

Jade lifts a hand to push the bridge of Azul’s glasses up. How entertaining it is when he bristles under the slight touch. Scoffing, Azul leaves his office to the roaring waves that await him. The eelmer giggles as his captain abandons the ship. And when an hour later, a customer gets short with him at the bar, Jade is benevolent enough to remember the little pledge of his and simply wrings the breath out of him with his own tie instead of anything more drastic. However, the customer falls limp off his stool and Jade judges this might be the best time to retrieve their captain.

He puts down the drink for the Diasomnia student’s friend. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere ~” his tone is saccharine but his grin is venomous. And the terrified student does not dare to move an inch as Jade abandons the ship.

It is very unusual for something other than profit to capture Azul’s attention. What matters most to Azul is coins and contracts, then whatever monetary profit that he can squeeze from each item. Perhaps a game of poker that he is betting on would prove more profitable than a mostly uneventful Tuesday in the lounge. But, valuable time spent playing board games? Jade surmises that is a bit strange of his housewarden. He takes a right turn down the college’s hallway.

The Board Game Club’s meetings were typically Wednesday, but the designated classroom for the club was empty both Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. Perhaps they bummed up the date of the club meeting because of a riveting match of Sorry. Not that Jade himself would get the appeal. To each their own. He takes another right.

Jade guesses that Azul won’t be too upset by his disturbance. If that fae student had simply refrained from species targeted insults and focused his animosity towards his drink being made wrong, it would have been smoothed over. Not that Jade made his drink; as rare as mistakes are from Azul, they are even rarer from Jade Leech. He takes a left and opens the clubroom door.

His eyes widen momentarily before his typical expression returns. Jade expects to be met with a crowd of people that he would have to navigate through to locate Azul. But the place is desolate besides the table where Idia Shroud and Azul reside. And as Jade is an observative person, he does not fail to notice the claymore resting on the table’s edge. His skin buzzes. Oh are you perhaps –The thought is snipped when he feels a ruffle of limbs push through the space made by himself and the corner of the door. He lowers his gaze to apologize when his eyes widen much larger than before.

“Excuse me, Jade,” you move deeper into the clubroom, a bowl of watermelon in your hands.

“No, my apologies, Prefect,” Jade assures and places a hand over his heart to cover the wrinkles in his purple dress-shirt. Are his clothes wrinkled? He had not even considered checking after incapacitating that Diasomnia student. He straightens his already straight posture and discreetly pats his clothes down. Gloved hand over his breast, he can feel that quivering rabbit pace of his organ.

Diligently, he follows after you. “Have you switched from Track & Field to Board Games this semester?” It is unexpected of you. You had only ever missed one of the twenty-six Thursday club meetings due to an illness. Perhaps, your physical prowess was complete and you were focusing upon intellects. If that is the case, he could tutor. His strong suit was not board games but with a mind that is always mapping out the second or third steps of a plan, he could prove to be quite of use. Would you use him? Should he ask you if you –

“No, I'm still running at Track. But, today is the final day of the big Idia versus Azul showdown,” you place the bowl of watermelon down on the table. “To be frank, I think both of them are liars and this will go on till graduation.” You take your seat … to Jade’s displeasure, in a chair shoulder to shoulder with Idia Shroud.

“Oya, knowing them both, I’d wager you might be correct, Prefect,” Jade smiles despite your seat. “Have you –”

“Jade.” His organ quiets down, regaining the typical pace of a wolf rather than a rabbit. “Did I not put you in charge of the lounge today,” and though Azul smiles, he has just barely managed to leash the snarling beast of aggression that wants to make itself known on his face.

“Oh yes, but you see, there has been a complication. I endowed the lounge to Floyd for the time being. Perhaps, we should switch positions?”

False kindness melts off his face as Azul groans into his gloved hand. Jade notes it is odd of him to release his guard in front of you. To show genuine dissatisfaction, unhear of. Idia, he can understand as Idia seems to be the only one Azul finds on equal standing but you? Have you two perhaps gotten closer? “Not necessary. I will take care of it.”

“Rung in a friend to avoid losing Azul-shi, fufufufu,” Idia grins. “What a cheat~”

Azul sends Idia a glare. “Nothing of the sort. I’ll get this matter sorted then we shall continue. Unless … you would like to phone in an excuse to prolong your inevitable downfall? Ortho perhaps?”

“Damn, and it was just getting riveting.”.

“Can you really call a game of Monopoly riveting,” Idia asks you.

“Well, not riveting in like the terms of Evo Moment 37 but riveting in like entering the basement in RE: Biohazard. The anticipation of it all,” you defend. Idia chuckles at the comparison. However, the laugh is snipped by Jade’s irate voice.

“Don’t worry, Prefect. I shall return Azul so he may defeat Idia shortly.”

Idia shrinks back at being acknowledged by one of the twins. He puts a cube of watermelon in his mouth to avoid carrying on conversation. You, everlastingly polite, supply both vice housewarden and housewarden with a wave. “Looking forward to it.”

Jade flashes you a smile. A tiny centipede of teeth wiggling on his pale features. Teeth that are sharp enough to bite into steak like dull human teeth bite into whip-cream. And despite his unnatural teeth that unnerve others, your lips inch up a slight bit. As they say their own goodbyes, you hum and return to analyzing the Monopoly board too. Outside the door, Azul turns towards Jade sharply. Where Jade’s teeth are razor-edged, Azul’s glare is of a similar caliber.

“There are no stains, just as promised. Aren’t I too good to you?”

“You’re comparable to a splinter.”

“Fufufufu, so cruel, Azul.” The words hardly mean anything. It was an unexpected but welcome surprise to see you. Perhaps, Jade could even manage shrinking off the responsibility of Mostro Lounge to return and spectate with you. Yes, that sounds ideal.

──────────────────

Jade did not get to return to the club meeting nor was the scolding from Azul pleasant. If Jade was more impressionable like Floyd, he would have spent the last two days sulking around. But his brother is who he is and Jade is who he is. So, he continues along seemingly unbothered.

Jade did thrive in observation, however. Collision of two stars was too ephemeral; Jade preferred being the satellite, influencing slowly. Glimpses of you fed him until today where he could feed you. Of course, he would not deprive himself of food either. The returning violetish-red heat of the lava lamp of blood under your skin, hand, and fingers, passing by him to grab another serving. That pleasant burn of your body heat would soon return to him tonight.

He had attempted various times for you to open up about your interests. They were as successful as trying to get a flower to bloom during the off-season. You wilted at the emotional tweezers snapping at your petals. Resolutely, you bite your tongue. Though, he admired your foresight to never reveal too much. He still remembers three weeks ago that you had mumbled into your hand “, no, you wouldn’t find my interests all that interesting.” And Jade should have denied that acquisition or at least persuaded you otherwise. But he predicted that if he had pushed, it would have revealed his hand of cards. Instead of balancing a bit of mushroom on his fork, he would have been balancing his poor, unfortunate heart on the prongs. He too had the foresight to never reveal too much.

So while he took great delight in your shared Thursday nights, you two were crashing into an inevitable pause. But, no, he should focus on cooking. After Track and Field, body hot and stomach empty, you dragged sore feet to Mostro Lounge all to see him. He provided free food and you provided the conversation. And if you stop providing conversation, he’d resolve to beguile your pretty tongue.

Afterall, you were a busy student. You made the choice he was worthy enough for your time. Jade was no stranger to the value of that ticking march. So the conversation too must become valuable as what fills your stomach, or Jade would be seen as an inadequate provider.

The timer dings. Putting down his pen, Jade crouches to the mouth of the oven. You are unexpectedly optimistic about trying new foods — a trait both of you share that makes him more endeared towards you. He pulls the mushroom lasagna from the steel tongue.

Unlike Azul and Floyd, you will humor him in trying his mushroom-themed plated meals at least one. At the very start, he tested you and put a slightly paralyzing type of mushroom in both of your portions. Your reaction was amusing, poking at the dead pink member with fork prongs, seeing if you would start to slur certain letters, not the least bit unnerved. Perhaps, you thought it unintentional because you did return the following week. You even made intriguing observations on the meals he served you. Enoki blooms: you compared those to coral reefs. Hen-of-the-wood mushrooms: you compared those to a dissected brain.

Jade is delighted to hear your pending reaction about tonight's dish, cutting into the pasta. You should be here soon.

Once the dish is sliced and portioned, he moves to check the voices coming from Mostro Lounge. Some unorganized customers? Some intruders? He keeps the cutting knife on him, concealing it behind his back. Cannot have you getting you harmed by any brutish students, though with that sword on you, you should be — hm. Oh, you are here!

Under the gleam of the lounge’s cobalt lightning, you look riveting. Stubborn droplets of sweat remain on your biceps and cheeks but it does not subtract from the sight of you. Your forearm muscle slightly bulges as you hold your sword’s handle to your hip. As you talk with whoever is on the other side of the entrance, you slightly straighten up. Jade wonders if something is wrong and tightens his once relaxed hold on the knife. However, the grip is nothing to the tremendous squeeze he gives the knife upon hearing your huffing snickers.

Now who was making you —

“No, I promise! Gojo’s feats can walk Diavolo like a dog.” You start forming words around a laugh. “When Diavolo looks into the future, he’s gonna see the strongest sorcerer kicking his ass.”

The other voice starts growing louder, so you join along. “Dude! I swear! — No, Jotaro is not winning! He literally has infinity, no JoJo is beating him — But you can’t! Wait! Hahaha, Joseph and Gojo would be drinking instead of fighting — Come on, Dio is not winning that.”

You are so caught in power-scaling that Jade’s presence surprises you. Muscles bulging, you jump slightly as an aerial voice sings, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too pressing. Am I, Prefect?”

Jade has both of his hands on the door frame. Faithful cutting knife still clutched in his dominant hand, he crowds over you. His body bent forward, left foot toes tapping on the ground. A weaker individual would have swooned or shivered at the lack of distance between his chest and your skull. His presence engulfs and swallows you like you are Jonah sitting like a pill on the whale’s tongue.

Instead of shivering or swooning, you relax and answer, “No, just some power-scaling between Idia and I.”

Smile dropping, Jade turns his focus onto the eldest Shroud. He had not realized the two of you were so close. What meets Jade’s glare is just the floating tablet that Idia uses. And though he is safe in Ignihyde, a full body shiver spiders its way through Idia’s bones. Despite his polite smile, Jade’s eyes are two coals of vexation.

Is that a knife in his hand! All the blood drains from Idia’s already moon white face.

“Hm, power-scaling. How interesting. Is that a method of testing your own strength against one another?”

“Um, close. It’s more like between,” but you slowly trail off and do not finish your sentence.

“Ah, you’ll have to tell me more over this lasagna I prepared. Mushroom ragu and prosciutto cotto. The pasta sheets are even handmade.”

“Hah, yeah I will. Um, Idia, I—“

“I’m afraid I only have enough servings for two.” That is a lie. There are enough servings to provide you and Grim a week’s worth of dinner. There is a second lasagna already tinfoiled for you that you will be taking home.

He knows your routine to prepare protein meals. He also knows that Dire Crowley provides low income that makes meat a rare treat instead of what it truly is, an everyday diet necessity. And though you two at ten P.M. will go through the same dance of ‘oh, i can’t accept this much food’ and ‘I insist’, Jade smiles at the thought of cornering you once again into taking his cooking home.

“A-ah, that’s completely fine. I have to run maintenance with Ortho. I’ll see you around, Prefect?”

“Yes, yes, see you, Idia.”

“Bye bye~” When you are not looking, Jade reveals the front gallery of his teeth. Thin lips pushing up and up to give Idia a warning smile rather than a winning smile.

Intelligent Idia Shroud employs the unused emergency motor to make a swift escape.

──────────────────

To be honest, one of Jade’s favorite days is the day of Azul’s overblot. Unfathomably cruel, others would criticize if they knew. Trey might even shrink away from the friendly terms they established; Jade smiles at an image of uneasiness etched on the baker’s face. Though Azul’s foundering had been entertaining, it was not the fondest memory of that day. No, it had been you. You and your scrambling friends. You and your sword. You and your wrath.

You always had that claymore on you. Perhaps even more commonly than you were seen with Grim. Snaked around your waist with a baldric, no matter where you spent your time, it stayed. It was an extension of your body.

Jade came to learn much about it through honed investigation. One: you acquired it from Sam’s Shop after Riddle Roseheart’s overblot. Two: it was prematurely infused with magic to give the user support, ideal for some magicless as yourself. Three: it had a blessing put upon it by Malleus Draconia, making it unbreakable. Jade’s mood had soured quite some time ago from unearthing the third fact. Though his own magic was not on par with the prince, he would have bled and forgo sleep if it meant he could add a spell you wanted added to your claymore. To protect you, he melts at the thought.

Despite that, it was still magnificent seeing you work with your sword. Raw, nude desperation to attack each movement. If you missed one counter, you would suffer far most of all. Jade mourns that you had not actively participated in the fight against him and Floyd in the Coral Sea. Your physical prowess was both elegant and gauche. You reminded him of a shark-mer locking onto the smell of blood but you reminded him too of a struggling seal with its neck between a shark-mer jaws. Winning and losing. Volatile in every swing that you did. Most people were at the very least stunned when seeing his mismatched eyes; however, they were nothing compared to the color of yours. Two moons trapped in red skies. When Azul had thrown your body into Mostro Lounge’s centerpiece aquarium, you had broken a blood vessel in your eye and it only made you more irresistible. Watching your stumble, crawl, limp back to your claymore, past the flower field of glass and starry night skies full of dehydrated, dead fish, lifting back up your secondary arm and yelling out in pure wrath, “ Azul Ashengrotto!”

He shivers at the memory and almost drops the glass he was polishing.

Yes, you had acted as splendid entertainment that day. When both Ramshackle and the photograph were temporarily taken, your eyes were weak. You glared at him and Floyd but it was a childish glare. The hardened stare of a child who had gotten their favorite bear taken away by an adult or older sibling. A powerless yet vexed look. You were pitiful and laughable to Jade before the hour of Azul’s overblot.

But since then, Jade had yet to see any of it resurface. Not that that disappointed him. As you had already caught his eye, he would be even harder to shake off than Floyd. He was going to remain. A flea that can only be torched off and, in removal, singe the skin it has burrowed into.

Sighing, Jade put the last polished glass up on the bar-shelf. Enough reminiscing. He keeps remembering those bright, evocative sclera and iris, he will be forced to retire to his room and take care of a physical burden. Now, next Azul wanted the aquarium whipped down, then I should check upon Floyd’s process in the kitchen. So much to be done. As Jade crouches to grab the window cleaner, he realizes one essential thing.

He never wants you to look upon anyone but him. It’s a desperate, unattractive yearn in him. If he could capture your precious face in his hands, eyes tilted up towards him, glaring, it would feed him to the fullest he had ever known.

──────────────────

Idia tries to keep his physical presence in school down to one time per week. If it is a good week, he physically enters Night Raven College zero times. If it is a terrible week, he steps foot on college ground twice.

This week has been horrible to Idia. He entered the college once each week for the Board Game Club. The rules he and Azul mapped out stated that both of them needed to handle the dice with their own flesh and blood to avoid a cheating move. Then, he is entering Night Raven College a second time to retrieve the paperwork from Dire Crowley on Winter Break preparation. Today Ortho’s ancient curses exam was keeping him busy. Oh, woe is him. All of this grows into pulling the blue of his lips into a desolate frown. His glum mood is already making him anticipate the worst to come.

“Just get this done as quickly as possible” he mutters through gritted teeth .

His anxious nature makes him more susceptible to what he knows is going to go wrong. It is written all in the air. It’s coming. It is the end of the world, armageddon and doom’s day. It is the feeling of walls closing all around. It is like missing on a pre-order sale of a figure you had coveted for months! It’s coming. Crashing right into Idia.

Jade places a hand on his shoulder and Idia fights with the sudden numbness in his legs. “Idia Shroud. How fortunate of me to have run into you.”

Sevens, please hear Idia, and let his death be swift and please don’t let anyone see his browser history. Amen.

“Classroom 3-B is void currently. Come.” Not like Idia has much choice. The door clicks behind them. Shivers convulse in Idia as Jade pushes him to sit down at a desk.

The look on Jade's face is deadly. Shadows cut and slice over his oily pointed features. Almost Rembrandt-like, the darkness on his face is painted by the jaw of the light overhead. The intensity of his glare would cause even wool to ignite in seconds. His eyes glimmer like yellow embers or olive beetles of hate hate hate. Idia could envision smoke starting to float up from his eyelids with the fire they held within. The housewarden is glad for the seat because his legs are numb now. Terror pins him down as Jade calculates.

This might not be effective, Jade surmises. Idia Shroud is a third year student, advanced in magic studies, and sometimes resistant to magical attacks. But – an image of your wrathful eyes appears in his head. But he had calculated all the risks beforehand, plan after plan, for days. Manipulating his premature failures to even turn into successes. Idia Shroud was a skittish individual, if his resolve was shaken then he could win this battle, here on the stage.

Jade slams his hands down to the desk. The sound will disrupt his mental fortitude. One of his gloved hands striking out to grab Idia’s face in a vice grip, he pulls his mug forward. The close proximity will unnerve the touch averse housewarden. With his index and thumb, he pulls the blue shaded skin of Idia’s eyelids. “Shock The Heart.”

Jade waits with bated breath. Searching in the housewarden’s face for a twitch or spasm. He cannot feel if his magic was effective, which wasn’t too surprising, but … “What are your opinions on the Ramshackle Perfect?”

“Hm? (Name)?” Jade’s eyes turn sharper. He still can’t gauge if Idia is influenced by his unique magic. Yet, as panic settles in, the word vomit that Idia drools out is satisfactory enough.

“Um, well! They’re kind of stoic and standoffish but really staunch too. Energy is trying way too hard to be ‘mysterious’. And they don’t make friends easily because of it. But they’re great! You know, Mifune from Soul Eater and Teresa of the Faint Smile, totally their kins.”

Kins? Are you perhaps related to someone that he hasn’t heard of? The thought of missing information about you vexes him. His grip tightens up on Idia’s face and his lips are squeezed together, hushing his sentence.

“Do they have relatives in Twisted Wonderland?”

“N-No, they have no family in Twisted Wonderland.” Idia speaks through the hole in his squished lips.

“Hm, then who are you comparing them to?”

“Anime characters. Ones that stand on business. Same personality and same True Neutral Myers-Briggs type. They both wield swords and their strength is unnatural.”

Yes, Jade knows this. Impatience burns his skin. He knew because when you and Jack Howl had been helping around the lounge by proxy of your trio of friends, you had broken off a bit of a table in your hand with the ease of snapping a graham cracker. Your unexplainable strength was perfect for you surviving in the Coral Sea. And he knew you wield a sword, anyone with eyes knew!

You were stoic, loyal, and strong. All of this Jade knew because he had been observing you!

His unique magic might not hold for too long with Idia. He needs information that is new and valuable, or else he will be stuck with prodding Ace or Deuce or either of their acquaintances for information. Already, Jade had calculated out how to talk to you and get you two on friendly terms. Thursday’s meals, offering help with botanical garden exams, and being ready to assist. All that paled in comparison to the friendly terms settled between you and Idia. What did he have, that spineless housewarden? If intellect was the key to your heart, Jade had that and then some.

His nose scrunches at the question he is about to ask. “What does the Ramschakle’s Prefect find … desirable in people?” What do they look for in a mate? If anyone knew, it would be Idia or that senseless trio.

“Formal with ulterior motives. They’re totally into your character archetype. Really gets them going. Shit, last week, they were being super cringe and ranting about the Falling Devil when she –” Idia luckily stops himself when he sees the startling intensity that Jade is staring at him with.

Was this perhaps … a code of sorts?

“My character archetype?”

“Your personality is appealing to them,” Idia seems to gag around the next word “, ugh, romantically. A normie crush”

Idia immediately regrets his words. Because as the spell starts to splinter off him, his brain returning, the look he is confronted with is even more terrifying. Idia panics that he might be in the hands of the more openly unhinged twin because Jade’s face is split ear to ear in a wide grin.

“Fufufufu, is that so~”

──────────────────

Night Raven College’s beauty is most prominent to you during the night. Up the stairs, down the hallways, into the Hall of Mirrors, there is an inkling of hypnotizing beauty in a college that is otherwise a pain in your ass. Burning cat eyes of lanterns dance on the top strip of walls. Marble statues in the Hall of Mirror seem to shine, oily in their strict features. Mostro Lounge is exceptionally gorgeous with its low cobalt lights.

As winter draws nearer, days shorten. You have gradually lost the fear of walking alone at night. Everything that went bump in the night seemed trivial in the face of a rose tyrant or dethroned lion. You felt what bruises on bones felt like. That causes anyone’s well of fear to eventually dry up.

So, stepping into Mostro Lounge, you are quite surprised when a tiny droplet of fear falls on the tip of your nose and rakes down your body. Because, well, the scene in front of you is quite startling.

This can’t be – No, it’s definitely not.

What catches your eye is not the company. The company, though weirdly dressed, is expected. You are fearful of the way all but one of Mostro Lounge’s booth-table has been cleared away to Sevens knows where. On the tabletop rests a delicate medusa lamp. The five heads are nude fluorescent bulbs blown to the shape of jellyfish. Plates and silverware for two are present too. Even a tea kettle has joined the group. Why won’t you two be sitting at the bar like usual?

You try to shift your attention to the meal in the center, avoiding what you do not want to acknowledge. From this distance, it perhaps looks like a type of filet of steak or chicken. Something you have never tried before obviously. You try to distinguish what mushrooms were used. Maybe if you focus all your attention on that, you can avoid it. Steam still rises from the plate. And your foolish eyes follow the gray wisps up to the nightmare. A vase of red roses decorates the frightening table – coincidentally or purposefully? Your favorite flowers. Roses still are your favorite despite Riddle’s overblot. You had only told your Heartstlabyul friends that.

Trying not to panic, you decide to look at your company, especially since he is approaching you.

Usually, Jade stuck with his student uniform despite how late you two kept each other. Personally, you hated peeling off layers to change at night. But tonight, he has switched his attire for a simple button-up and his usual slacks. His tie and gloves are still on but his sleeves are rolled up. In your scan, you notice he is wearing Floyd’s Santoni charcoal gray shoes.

You look past Jade, trying to gauge if you can grab that chicken or steak and make a run for it. Tragically, Jade is already in front of you. You innerly grumble because you know Track and Field has mostly drained you of most of your energy. Well, nothing you can do now.

Hand over his heart, the eel-mer greets you with his polite, trained smile. “How lovely of you to make it tonight, Prefect. You look quite breathtaking.” He closes his eyes and hums at you. Trying to appear less predatorily? You remain tight-lipped but the silence does not deter him. Instead, he scoops your callous hand and presses a kiss to it. “I have prepared a, let’s say, compulsive meal tonight that I would be honored to share with you.”

EW! You repress a shiver quickly. “So-sounds good.” Jade drops your hand and, once he is turned, you quickly scrub the kiss off on your sweats. This isn’t what you think it is – It’s a mind-game of Jade’s and you love deciphering those. Try to enjoy it, (Name), the inner voice scolds.

You follow and take your seat when he gestures at it with one hand. Still standing, he begins to cut up the portions of your shared meal. Ah, so it is chicken and typical field mushrooms.

“I believe I have already disclosed this information to you, but please let me continue, Prefect.” He grabs your plate and starts filling it. “Agaricus campestris, known by many as field mushrooms, actually share a resemblance with one of the deadliest mushrooms, amanita phalloides. It has been used in many assassins attempts. It has snatched the life of a Pope, Roman Emperor, and a Russian tsaritsa.” Returning your plate, full of half of the main course’s field mushrooms, he reaches out to fix a bit of your hair. “How cleverly deceitful Mother Nature can be, yes?”

Okay, this is more like it! Though Jade is certainly acting more Jade-like tonight, you can deal with this in stride. You refrain from lifting up your fork as he starts to fill his own plate. “Mother Nature certainly has a sense of humor that is both sycophantic and prepotent. She is such a whore.”

Jade openly laughs at that. Finishing his own portion, he sits and continues, “I think she is giving her subjects a word of warning. Those who don’t finish their food will taste death.”

Your first hint? No, it is too early and you should not jump like a humping dog on every word of Jade’s. “Even she plants her roses with thorns. Her prettiest creation even bites. That warning that she will certainly turn on you, eventually. She would take her tea with both poison and honey. Don’t you think, Jade?”

“An astute image of her. ‘Mad honey’ and regular honey on her spoon. Would you perhaps like to try the blend tonight before we feast?”

“Of course,” you chirp. As he pours you a cup, you continue, “Tonight’s blend won’t happen to be roasted oolong?”

“A keen nose on you, Prefect.” You assume that this one is safe and you waste no time in sipping it once it is in your hands. This seems to be the right move in the game because Jade’s expression flickers. It … It grows a bit softer around the edge, happier? You drain your cup to the middle and absentmindedly stroke the ridges on the ceramic squid design.

“Perhaps, a tea made for a Pope?”

“Ah, more commonly, oolong is a blend dancing on the tongue of a Russian tsar.”

Your pride takes a hit; you got one of the answers wrong. Finger moving down the squid’s arms, you take in a bit of the scenery. Usually, clues are not in the backdrop but it is never an impossibility. You look back at Jade and see he is staring at you with a certainly strange look. Hm, odd. You turn away. But you think you finally got it.

Confidently, you push your plate into the middle of the table and finish your tea. Perhaps the outfit and scenery change was only a red herring to deceit you away from the real mind-game. The meal is most certainly poisonous! Inside, you beam at guessing correctly until you hear a hesitant voice.

“Are you not going to eat?”

“No, I don't think I will.” Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.

“Is the food perhaps not to your liking?” Well, that tone of voice is certainly concerning. You turn away from the aquarium you had been looking and return to Jade’s sight. Panic is almost dotting his features; his teeth pulled back in a vulnerable grimace. “It was my mistake to make a meal you hadn’t tried before for this. I know your fondness of trying new meals but I might have overstepped. I’ll remedy this. My apologies, Prefect.”

HUH! You quickly grab back the plate before Jade can touch the edge. Why did that voice unnerve you so – “No, no, I just.” Great, now you have to find a way to remedy a mistake you made. “I just wanted to test your resolve to this.”

To you, you are talking about the mind-game Jade is playing. To Jade, he thinks you are talking about this date and the relationship that he wants to foster with you. Rejuvenating, he chuckles and shows his full smile. “I want you to know I am very committed to this.”

Still, unsure of your steps, you wait till Jade takes a bite of mushrooms first as you focus your fork at the chicken. The conversation dims down like the autumn sun. Though, it has never been unpleasant with Jade. Eating and nourishing your bodies: that is a big part of Mother Nature’s hierarchy of needs. Company is less than food, but it has never been absent from that hierarchy either. You always enjoy meals with Jade.

Am I doing this right? Jade questions.

Jade peeks around the roses as he watches you eat what he can provide. He is grateful that you are eating the mushrooms; field mushrooms were both fascinating and delicious. He knew how to differentiate between various mushrooms in the fungi field and had yet to make any mistake when selecting them. Moving onto the next step, Jade hopes that your aversion to eating at first was just a malnourished mistake.

Finger by finger, Jade removes his gloves. Delicately, he plucks one of the roses out of the vase. He had retrieved them from Trey that morning, specifically asking for the thorns to remain to the baker’s confusion. The thorns prick at his rather soft human skin. Under your watchful eye, he takes the stem and squeezes off the head of the rose.

“Roses, your favorite flower, correct?”

That fear comes back like a returning tidal wave. You feel your spine lock up and you swallow around your bite. “Yes, I enjoy them very much. How did you know?”

“I have my ways~” He takes the rose and tucks it behind your ear. Anxiously, he wanted to feel some warmth on the tip of them but nothing sits there but cold sweat from Track and Field. “Though I have a fondness for the ecosystem of fungi, the floral kingdom is not without its appeal.”

Your heart hammers. No, no, no need to panic, (Name). Perhaps you are jumping to conclusions and are mistaken, an inner voice speaks out. Slowly, you unfurl your tensing hands and ignore the blood you had drawn. Yes. You are mistaken, you reason.

“I actually grew a fondness them because –”

“Because it is your middle name.” You only revealed that to Grim. And well, the recorded files that Crowley had on you in your school information center. So, your surprise is a guarantee.

“Yes, hah. It is.”

“Both of you are parallel in your looks. I can see why Heartslabyul graciously accepts your company. Though, really, I sympathize with anyone who wants to keep your company.”

“Hah, well, being a Prefect is certainly time consuming. Grim, Ace, and Deuce are certainly not the best at dodging trouble.” You place one of your hands on the leather and squeeze your nails tightly into your skin.

“Yes, I certainly remember that. Some of my fondest memories actually came from the time after those three made their deals with Azul.”

You stay silent.

“(Name), you know that mistakes are a rarity from me. However when I am around you, I feel that I am always balancing off the edge of falling into one big mistake. And though I take everything in stride, I find the thought of making mistakes with you is far from thrilling. But, I’m willing to remedy those mistakes whenever the time comes.”

This – This, you realize it with impending horror. Harshly, your teeth snap together. This is – Your palms are slick with new sweat. THIS IS A DATE!

“And, I know, that perhaps —“

“Please, Jade, please stop.” The look on both of your faces is shared: a pained expression for entirely different reasons. Immediately, his faux politeness is dropped to reveal worry. You, terrified you, cannot handle a confession in this world.

“(Name)…”

“I have to go.”

You quickly push away the plate and stand. Stirred by the motions, the rose balancing on your ear falls to the ground. “The meal was delicious. You’re a brilliant cook, Jade. I just —“

“Please, let me apologize to you.”

“No. No, it’s alright.”

“(Name).”

Your strict avoidance of looking Jade in the eye is ruined as he grabs you by your wrist. Quickly, your eyes climb up to meet his face. What returns your look is terrifying. No, it is not a smoldering look of anger that three-fourths of the student body is terrified of. The vulnerability in his eyes terrifies you. In Jade’s face, there is the slight hint that this was not a meticulously crafted confession. In his face, you can tell he does not like the action of confessing. Showing his hand of cards, slitting his wrist, wearing his heart like a cufflink on his uniform.

Well, fucking hell, you don’t like this either! Romance, you simply cannot. “I have to go, Grim needs me back at Ramshackle.”

By some miracle, you manage to free your wrist. And the look on his face is easy to tear your eyes away from.

──────────────────

Has anyone ever been isekai-ed twice?

You gnaw around the cover of your phone. You know you will be scolded when Idia gives your phone another upgrade for higher speed or more data space, but that concern pales in comparison to the terrifying concern you’ll need to face. Now you understand Idia’s apprehension to leave his dorm. Perhaps, you can lay here and rot away. Wait till your skin sinks down like pastry crust and your bones moss over the sheets. You will nourish yourself slightly. Perhaps, three cigarettes? Or another bottle of vodka? Which would be more of a soothing balm to the flame that has engulfed your skin? Your thoughts are cut when the phone in your mouth buzzes.

Isekai Shoukan Wa Nidome Desu, not worth the watch bro was trying too hard to be Guts LOLOLOL

Good, reliable Idia. Despite all your stress, you can always smile at someone who has similar, admittedly nerd-routed humor such as yourself. You type back, Do you think the black carriage can cart me to another universe?

u probably haven’t buffed up your stats enough to cash in another isekai

Is that your ‘sweet’ way of saying I don’t deserve a second try in a new universe?

not sweet, just based

Kys actually. I have like a real problem this time.

something you can’t just punch through? u’re literally Saitama just punch your problems

This is emotional, I can’t punch it.

EW! IDIA LOGGING OFF. NO NORMIE EMOTIONS HERE.

Idia

Okay, you forced my hand. Yoko Littner ¼ Bunny Scale Figure. You patiently wait. The dots appear, sink away, reappear until …

boxed? You are already digging the box off your display shelf when your phone vibrates. You confirm it is boxed, even sending a picture and verbally highlighting how the tape is still intact. You can almost feel the bone-deep sigh Idia must have taken as the bubble returned. k normie, what’s going on?

So, you recount it all for him. Fleeting touches, warmth on your tongue, the ease of banter, and the security that you had felt in your long-standing friendship only to be disarmed by words that sent a ripple of lightning down each vein in your arm. You could not comprehend it. Just … Jade Leech? Fucking Jade Leech. One whose intellectual prowess could perhaps even puppeteer the downfall of any house-warden. And he had looked upon you with such affection. The whirlpools of his eyes reaching out towards you. His eyes … mutilating your common sense … God, why did you long to see that look again? Why did he say that to you? To manipulate you for what purpose?

You wish you had punched him.

As soon as you revealed to Idia that the person who had confessed was Jade Leech, your steady back and forth came to a halt. Idia? Idia. What do you know? Two minutes passed. Idia Shroud, remember Yoko.

okokokok listen, he used his unique magic on me! i am not in violation of any normie code, none! but … a week ago Jade caught me off guard and asked me your, uh, type. pls don’t be mad.

A tiny tiny part of you is flattered to see Idia try to keep benevolence in your friendship. The oldest Shroud is not one to worry about friendships. However, that tiny part is smothered by something much bigger. Crunch. You look down at the electronic you have broken in your grip. Anger growing, you start to scream. Not even words, just ah, ah, hah, ah, AAAAA!

──────────────────

“If the Prefect takes down one of those eels, it wouldn’t be so bad. I still haven’t forgiven them for the exam scheme.”

“Yeah, but wouldn't they have a vengeful Floyd on their hands?”

“I say one down, one more to go. My Henchman’s got this.”

“Isn’t it so romantic! The tenacity to fight for another’s hand in love. The agonizing beauty of having to harm that certain someone. Like a lioness who sees herself unfit to be a mother devouring her cubs. Quelle vue! Blood drawn by the brawn of love. Hah.”

The three shiver at the intruding voice. Maybe if they do not look at him, he will find another person to entertain himself with. Minutes pass by and they still feel his presence. Cracking first, Deuce is the only brave soul who turns around to greet Rook Hunt.

“Bonjour to you too, Monsieur Spade. Do you know how long Monsieur Mastermind has been coveting our fair Trickster?” It seems like he is asking out of genuine curiosity instead of bragging that he himself knew before.

“Actually, none of us knew. Apparently, it’s been a while. The Prefect said Jade integrated Idia before confessing.”

“Hm, and Roi de Ta Chambre is missing from attendance. Perhaps jealousy?”

“Nah, more like fear. (Name) almost tore his tablet apart when they crossed paths on our way to potionology.” Ace chuckles at the memory.

“My Henchman isn’t too happy about it.”

“Still, I figured (Name) would just ignore it forever. Any emotion they can’t solve with anger is just pushed to the side.”

“Their emotional intelligence is sooo low.”

At Ace’s words, they all cast a look out onto the center of the track-field. Jade stands, arms folded behind his back. Oddly, he has only chosen to waive his jacket and rolled up his button-up’s sleeves. He is comparable to concrete whereas you are like a spinning power-drill. You are pacing back and forth, randomly swinging your claymore at times, pacing again. You switched your uniform for a tight black shirt and white tai chi pants. Content is Jade’s expression, watching you warming up to fight him.

The crowd has grown quite a bit. On the farturn and backstretch, most of the crowd has accumulated. And at the start of that farturn is Azul behind a fold-out table, sign shouting “Place your bets. Jade Leech vs Ramshackle’s Prefect.” Outstretched like a cat, Floyd is the only one of the crowd lounging on the bleachers.

Deuce is quite surprised to see that every housewarden has shown up. Even Malleus Draconia is flanked by his two bodyguards, his vice-housewarden floating a bit off ground and excitedly rambling in the taller fae’s ear. There is a sizable gap in where Malleus is standing among the crowd.

But, he also feels quite bad because he isn’t too sure who to support. You had gone to Azul Ashengrotto with a proposition that you said should reach the ears of a certain eel-mer. Your conditions that you and Jade would battle on the upcoming Sunday morning. If Jade bested you, he would be granted a date. If you bested him, the matter would be dissolved. Deuce was anxious about seeing perhaps one of the brutalest rejection of his life. To surely be beaten up by the person you desired, he groans at the idea. Poor Jade.

Thankfully, Rook Hunt leaves to stand by his own housewarden. The crowd waits anxiously, wondering who will start, before Ortho Shroud enters the green of the track-field. To the trio’s surprise, you do not seem agitated at the interruption. The boy comes up to you both, hand altering itself into a megaphone.

“The rules are,” the crowd hushes “, if either opponent is knocked into the red of the track, they lose. If either opponent's injuries stop them from fighting, they lose. If either opponent vocally forfeits, they lose. Jade Leech will be fighting to win a date with Ramschakle’s Perfect (Name). Please start in 59, 58, 57…”

You track Ortho leaving the green. Somberly, you take steps to make a little gap between Jade and yourself. You gradually stop fiddling with your claymore; from flipping it to and fro in your hand to letting it lie cement at your thigh. Victory was simple and foreseeable for you. Ace had asked you before if you planned for a fight against Jade Leech, one of the finest alchemical students. But you recited what you said during each overblot, “All I gotta do is win.” The simplicity was laughable, even you know this but, you glance up at Jade, all you really have to do here is one thing: win.

“4, 3, 2, 1. Go.”

Magic in Twisted Wonderland comes in categories. The basic elemental forms are flora, water, fire, and cosmic then it branches off into sub-genres. Certain magic in Twisted Wonderland is palpable and, most important to you, able to support the weight of a body. So when Jade miscalculates and flings a beam that you can jump upon, you waste nothing.

Being airborne is thrilling. You tuck your legs up to your rear as you cup your claymore’s handle in your hand like a child holding a fragile insect. Ground rapidly approaches you. Arms up, back arched, eyes front. You swing down with all your might with the full intention to slice Jade Leech down the middle like an unbirthday tart. These first three minutes will give you plenty of time to judge how he fights. You got to observe him in the Coral Sea; that gives leverage.

Jade goes to counter what seems like an attack raining straight down. You maneuver your body with the pressure of the spell, drop your right foot, and snap right towards Jade’s body. Got in, now deal a blow. Shoulders inches from each other, you wind up like a baseball player and go to lock eyes with Jade.

You expect frustration. You expect his typical calculated yet distant look. Yet - tch! You drive your sword into a swoop. No matter what his eyes look like, time to win.

You two dance in a tsunami of black-red sparks and thumping air. You two whip around each other, arms repeatedly tearing in and out to the collision of yours and his attacks. When either of you stumbles, the other relentlessly pushes. You can admit as a flora attack pushes you back that Jade, despite his eyes, is calculating each motion of yours. Trying to get two steps ahead but stumbling along. You both stumble in your little dance, too evenly matched.

But, the count in your head ends; three minutes have passed. Time to get serious. As Jade raises his pen to the sky to send a wave of energy at your body running towards him, he stops. Not in submission but because you have disappeared from his sight. Where did you –

Hm, Jade’s back is surprisingly muscular. Swimmer muscles? You can feel it through the tight shirts both of you are wearing. On your own latissimus, the turbulent avalanche of blood roaring through his system pounds at you. Back to back, you gently decline your head to rest on his dominant shoulder. His scent is quite sweet too when he is sweating like a cooked lobster.

You move your mouth near his ear. The words you speak cause his sturgeon scales to sway a bit. “Jade.” His back shivers under yours. “I’m gonna show off a little, kay?” Then once more, you are gone.

Jade catches a flash of silver, swooping right down to his neck. Time does not even allot for him to counter against your claymore specifically. Instead, he sums up magic to bubble around him and push everything back. Finally, you return to his vision, feet dug in soil and running right back at him as soon as the magic presence wilts off his pen.

To the left, to the right, to the left again, the dance resumes. Cornered right back into defense, Jade mourns. You attack faster than before, faster than what he witnessed at Azul’s overblot. Your claymore moves like a flickering light. You move around him and manipulate him to twist like a puppet to counter each strike. Down to his legs, up at his shoulders, behind his back. Unlike the noticeable strain in Jade’s face, you remain pouting.

His scent. You attempt to cut his left arm off and he counters. His scent. Why was it still distracting you! You pivot your feet, fall down in a swooping arc, and attempt to cut his tendon. That scent was all you could think of. Not that anyone could tell as you were moving both faster and more dynamically than before. He smells so good, you agonize. It bleaches the inside of your memory. To rid yourself of it you would probably have to crush up peppers and grind them into your nose until it bled. You had been around sweat enough in Track and Field but none sweated so saccharinely. With a vertical swipe, you try to cut off the hand of his that holds his magic pen.

Jade counters and you two are caught in a standstill. You two push at each other, magic pen and claymore vibrating against one another. Speckles of dirt start to fly up from the ground. The jet black strand of Jade’s moves wildly at the air pressure. Is that bastard locking you close to him on purpose! Sparks start to fly off the middle of your blade. Elbows lowering, you strain against the spell but you will – you – you will find that weak area in his counter.

It comes in one explosive burst as you push harder and send Jade a mile or so back from you. The ground settles. Typically, you would make no mistake to run back in and continue, but - ugh! Quickly, you start to rub at your nose. Murmurs start up again but you keep scrubbing. The stench of bacteria from blisters and new blood is a welcome relief. Once his smell is thoroughly gone, you get right back into it.

You planned to close that distance but it seems Jade Leech did not let an opportunity go to waste. As expected of him –

You sweep underneath the crackling violet of a cosmic attack and redirect a burst of thorns aimed for your heart. Some time was allotted for Jade to think when pushed down, but you will not allow that to be unfortunate for you. You said you were going to show off, so show off you will. Tucking your non-dominant hand to your breast, you cut a canyon’s mouth into the fire attack Jade sent at you.

Again, you two clash, synthetic grass leaping up like a million frogs. You unlock from the exchange, tilt your blade, and start stabbing at him. “Tch,” is all you get from Jade as he tucks himself to become smaller and dodge each incoming stab. By the shoulder, by the ribs, by the tip of his nose. Rapidness and precision is your groundwork. Jade jolts back and forth to dodge each incoming strike, playing into your hand.

Then, unexpectedly, you abandon your claymore by the effort of launching it into the air. You can see it in Jade’s eyes that he sees this as an opening. Then in his next blink, your foot is connected to his ribs. His heart pounces on your sole. You grant him a small smile then thrust all your strength in your kick.

He has to use two air spells to stabilize himself. Two caverns blown into the field. Damn, you had meant for that kick to knock him into the red.

Without looking, simply outstretching a hand behind yourself to catch your sword, you wonder if Crowley will make you pay for property damages. So be it. With that too enticing smell drawn out of your nose, you can go all out.

You start closing distance when – shit! You are suddenly knocked off your feet when Jade lands an attack at the place your running feet were going to land. The fall you take is not elegant. Your dominant shoulder bounces once then twice more on the ground. Your bones clang but you manage a grip on your sword. Metallic warm blooms on your tastebuds, did you bite your tongue? Groaning, you go to stand up when suddenly Jade Leech is towering over. Face shadowed, eyes bright.

Ah, teleportation magic.

Instead of threatening your life like all the overblots did or moving in to kill you, Jade says with his typical sycophantish smile, “I was thinking of cooking maitake mushrooms for our first date, Prefect.” Smug bastard!

You smile wide around the blood coating your teeth, “I actually prefer portabella.” In a blink, you pivot your body to wrap around the back of his leg. Like a scorpion launching an attack, you swipe at him. The connection is perfect. You watch a squirt of blood spit from the back of Jade’s thigh. As you are rounding your body back up around him, you laugh, " if you really want to win this, you need to fight with at least seventy percent more effort.” Then, another perfect collision that makes you giddy of all things. His head is thrown back by an elbow to his nose.

And to complete the full rotation, you aim your sword towards his neck once more. But you are caught by surprise when that elbow did not knock around his brain enough to disorient him. Where your sword should have landed is intercepted by his magic pen. Another time-wasting standstill. This time feels different though. Rotating your wrist up and down as you might, you cannot gauge a weak point and you are forced to look at him.

Red is slick down his upper lip and chin. It shines violet, blue, and a blackish-green in the light of his counterspell. Tidiness is swept and rustled out of his typical hair-do. The ‘J’ of his black stand resembles more of a combination ‘K’ and ‘Z’ the way it is blown through. His matched eyes? Arrowed directly onto you. Olive brown and canary yellow, wide and crazed. And that look – That look!

Di-Did your heart just skip a beat? No. No. No. What is wrong with you today! You are never so distracted by an overblot or sparring partner. You never had some kind of revelation during your training with Silver or battles with Riddle, Leona, or Azul. Are you falling ill of all things!

Your face luckily does not change. The only indication of your inner crisis is a bulging vein in your arm. Relentlessly, your claymore and his magic pen scraping against each other, you try to dictate where his weak spot is. Clump by clump, ground starts to be serrated by your combined efforts. Then, fuck! Your face crinkles with pain. Bits of magic jump over your weapon and start to cut paper-thin lines on your cheek. One. Two. Three. Tiny whiskers of hot pain. You grind your red teeth and push even harder. You silently mourn the opening you lost before as Jade starts to push you back. You are growing angrier.

Separate from this moment, Silver mutters under his breath, “The Prefect is going to win.” He meant to keep it to himself, but –

“Huh? How can you tell?”

“I- Master Malleus. Well, because,” and before Silver can start, there is an explosion of noise in the crowd. Joined by an explosion of red coming from Jade’s left shoulder.

Crouched on the ground, behind Jade, you cross both of your arms to your chest. Red rain drops down onto your back as the appalled noises grow in volume. Uncaring, you spin back and once more throw your sword into the dry blue skies. You plant your feet. Instead of feeling the pulse of Jade or smelling his sweat, you shift all attention to the Earth like you should have from the start. The gumminess from the blood in your mouth gradually fades away. Your labor torn veins gradually relax. Air is cold. You are warm. As Jade struggles to comprehend where you even went, you perform tomoe nage on him backwards.

Jade only sees four images: your face when locked in a standstill, emptiness, emptiness again (in the form of sky), and then he is blessed with your face again as you retrieve your claymore from the air and hold the tip of it to his throat. Laid on the ground, he gasps. That expression has returned to your face. Wrath. Your scleras are white but it is still the same. A tightened and angered expression that one would think could cause a head to implode with a single look. Crazed and wide. The rhythm of your wrath thumps around him like crashing waves. The ferocity of predator’s teeth and riptide’s rocks in your eyes. Sevens, he wanted a life with you. Yearned for you to join him, Floyd, and Azul. If this is the last time, you’ll talk to him – if this is the last time, you’ll see him – His heart aches like a fresh bruise at the thought, hurting more than the slash from his shoulder. If you will no longer cross paths with him again, then he needs to say what he always wanted to. He needs to reveal his hand. Pierce his heart on a fork so you can eat it whole.

“Sevens, you’re beautiful,” Jade rasps.

HUH!

You leap back. Your claymore clatters to the ground. You care little for the starting murmurs of confusion, spinning your head away from him to put a hand over your mouth. Mortified, your fingers collide with skin and reveal you are starting to blush of all dreadful things. You turn your head back towards Jade. He is looking at you with th-those soft eyes again. You turn away faster the second time.

Your fingers start to climb up towards your nose bridge and eyelids. Mortification is an inadequate word for you now. Hotter than Grim’s or Idia’s flames, you swear your cheek could start expelling smoke in the dry autumn air. Instead the air whispers and theorizes: “Is it over? Who won? Did Jade poison them before the fight? Is that a forfeit? Do I still have a chance with the Prefect?”

For the first time ever you do not care about retrieving your blade from battle. If you had to encounter those eyes, you could not direct the head on your shoulders to act civilized. Why did he have to be so – ugh!

With a huff, you start walking towards Ortho. Your eye must be drawn in a monstrous glare because the robot boy turns his head back and forth to avoid your gaze. You school your features as you get closer. When in front of him, you raise your dominant hand and say “Announce Jade as the winner. I sprained my wrist.”

Ace and Deuce vocally make it known that they are confused and bewildered. You do not spare them a glance, watching as the yellow of Ortho’s eyes shift, little rectangles in the artificial irises shrinking and rotating. His gaze lasered down on your arm. “Prefect, your wrist is not –”

“Announce that Jade won.”

With a smile, you turn towards Ace, Deuce, and Grim. Somewhere that feels as far off as another country, Ortho’s hand changes back to the megaphone and announces “Jade Leech is the winner! As a result of injury!” That makes little difference to your overall mood. Your smile grows and you ask your friends, "Are you guys willing to walk poor, unfortunate me to the nurse?”

“S-Sure, Prefect.” Deuce agrees, catching on.

Sighing, Ace crosses his arms and remarks “ Always relying on the magic-able students, aren’t we, Prefect?”

“Yeah,” you agree, knowing you saved them both four times over. “A magicless student like myself needs all the help she/he can get. Come on, Grim. My wrist is injured, but my shoulder’s completely fine.” You crouch and Grim reclaims his usual spot.

“(Name),” he whines in your ear “, you better not skimp on feeding the Great Grim because of your new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. And it’s just one measly date; you three will always be more important.”

“You got a good head on you, Henchman!”

“Damn right.”

“Still, Jade Leech? Do you want bodyguards for this date,” Deuce asks you as you all start walking.

Another tiny smile crawls on your face. Now that you are a safe distance away, you think you can finally look back. The crowd is peeling away in sections. Some students are cheering. Others are forlorn. The most miserable of them seemed to be gathered near Azul Ashengrotto’s betting table, where the octo-mer is counting his thaumarks. In the center are your claymore (which you are slowly itching to retrieve) and Jade Leech and his twin brother. You chuckle watching as Floyd goes through the motions of shaking his brother excitedly by the shoulder, throwing his own arms up in the air, whooping and hollering, and taking Jade’s limp arm to raise to the sky.

At this distance, Jade’s eyes are blurred upon his face and safe to look at. He is staring straight at you. Hm, he does have some appeal, you muse. Raising your ‘injured’ wrist, you wave to him. “No, that won’t be necessary. I would’ve mopped the floor with him.”

“Huh? But you lost?”

“Huh? Did I say something,” you respond to Grim, faking a sheepish look. You return your arm to your side. “Ow, my wrist really hurts, guys. Ow ow ow~”

──────────────────

The worst part of it all was the wrist splint. That black, velcro monstrosity wrapped on your lower arm seriously took a nasty chip off your pride as a student of Silver Vanrouge. You bowed so low to him that your forehead hit your knee. However, that was not even the cherry on top. You had to cry out in pain every time Ace or Deuce took your ‘injured’ arm and pinned it behind your back instead of fighting back like you wanted. Though Riddle did collar them, the day the nurse ‘cleared’ you, you made it known that that would never happen again. Ace did actually have to borrow your wrist splint after.

You did get your sword back. You swear on the Seven, you were having withdrawals from the first night away from it. Tossing and turning enough to cause Grim to bite your ankle. Jade was gracious enough to return it two days after the fight, just as you were zippering up your coat to meet up with Tsuntaro. He even polished it for you!

You exchanged your thanks and then stood for too long at your threshold, waiting for him to leave. You were unsure if you could really look him in the eye. When he knocked and you received him, you busied yourself with looking at your sword.

“You know, I could provide a spell that might be of use to you for your weapon. Free of charge. I know that it already has –”

“Jade.”

“Yes?”

“I really don’t want our date to be at Mostro Lounge. There’s an ax throwing place on the island. We can take a bus route to get there.” You finally look up.

Wrathful eyes are not what makes you swoon. To you, there is little appeal being crushed by pulsing anger. Jade’s eyes are completely antonymous and devoid of that fiery emotion, but they still burn you because, because — Well, he is looking at you as if you yourself hung stars in the sky and whittled the mountains’ edges by your hand. He is looking at you with such warm affection. And you, emotionally constipated you, are smitten with that warm expression.

Ears tinted pink, Jade says “, Yes, arrangements can be made for that. This weekend?”

“This weekend.”

When the cloud of jade green fireflies arrive by your gate, you actively have to ignore the way Jade bristles and glares. You learn that day that a hand placed upon his lower back calms him down perfectly fine. A trick you will use later. And use it later you did~

It had been about two months since your first date. The winter break came and went. You defeated Jamil Viper, suffered a few snake bites but nothing tremendous. Then at Kalim’s party, you had to defeat Jade’s seven evil attempts at getting a kiss from you. Both successful, as expected of Night Raven’s Prefect. Another success of yours? Defeating the newest game Idia gifted you as an apology with an S rank, which you were journeying to Mostro Lounge to tell a certain someone about.

“Hey, you can’t just cut the line!”

Well, that might not be good. Steadily, you place your hand over the auburn pommel of your sword. Eyes narrowed and piercing to find the line-cutter, you turn. And for some reason, the host panics. “A-Ah! It’s just you, Prefect. Go ahead. Sorry!”

Hm, did the matter resolve itself? Well, you hope the host finds the line cutter eventually as you venture deeper into Mostro Lounge. You scan briefly over the tables and aquarium lighting. Persistent cobalt shadows are quite enchanting to you now. Gratefulness pushes your lips up a small amount when you locate Jade Leech among the swimming blue.

“Jade!”

The vice-housewarden’s head almost comes off his neck at the speed he looks towards you. That familiar, once tortuous look returns to his eyes. “(Name), what a pleasant surprise.”

“Jade, put down your tray.”

“Hm? Whatever for?”

Well, at least you gave him a semblance of a warning. Advancing on him the whole time, you reach chilled hands to the back of his neck. His pulse is relaxed; you think it’s a shame because you love hearing its rapid speed. One hand cups his cervical and he reasonably tenses because last time you did this, you spun him into a headlock. But that’s not the agenda and he can start to piece it together as you push his head down to meet lip to lip. Ah. That beautiful pulse is back.

His lips are well kept, soft and thin. This close you can smell the sweat of a hard day on him. You tilt your head to the left to deepen your first kiss. It is no question to invite tongue into the kiss, though it certainly catches Jade by surprise.

You can tell Jade is upset that he had not put down his tray because the dishes upon it are rattling. And his one free hand is tightly holding onto your waist like a snapping turtle locked onto a finger. You push up harder into the kiss and almost start laughing when his reaction is a muffled groan. “Ag - Agh,” his throat hums at you.

During this rather inappropriate display, your hands have been focusing on running through his hair or gliding over the skin of his neck. Boldly, you inch one hand down his arm and wrap it around to hold the middle of his back. AH! His pulse is exploding now. This time you actually do need to pull away to laugh a bit.

Your laughter gradually stops as you hear Azul Ashengrotto emerge from the kitchen, chastising both of you for your display. In your ear, Jade asks “Do I get to know what I did to be rewarded with such a pleasant surprise?”

And in the face of teeth that could tear your throat out, you hum “I just ranked S on my new game.”

“In my lounge of all places! You two are so indecent. You have dorm rooms; Perfect, you have an entire house to yourself. You couldn’t have possibly waited; you just had to come in during rush hour on a weekend!”

Jade smiles despite being clueless of what you mean. “Well aren’t I one lucky eel~” And he means it, the efforts and mistakes made to get to this moment … Jade’s smile grows as he watches you and Azul bicker. All that effort was worth this.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader #jade leech

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justinspoliticalcorner · 3 months ago

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Robert Tait and Chris Stein at The Guardian:

The White House on Wednesday labeled the federal judge challenging the Trump administration on whether it defied his court order to halt flights deporting migrants without a hearing “a Democrat activist”. The press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, singled out by name at a White House press briefing federal judge James Boasberg, who weighed the legality of Donald Trump’s deportation of suspected Venezuelan gang members to El Salvador under the Alien Enemies Act, and is now evaluating the government’s compliance. Boasberg had attempted over the weekend to prevent planes carrying the migrants from leaving, and has since demanded from the government details of the aircrafts’ exact itineraries to determine if they complied with his order. That argument is continuing in court, with the administration saying all flights took off before Boasberg’s order, while that is disputed and the judge has demanded a detailed itinerary. On Wednesday he threatened consequences if his order was violated, while giving the administration more time to present evidence. Leavitt said: “The judge in this case is essentially trying to say that the president doesn’t have the executive authority to deport foreign terrorists from our American soil. That is an egregious abuse of the bench. This judge cannot, does not have that authority.”

She added: “And it’s very, very clear that this is an activist judge who is trying to usurp the president’s authority under the Alien Enemies Act. The president has this power, and that’s why this deportation campaign has continued, and this judge, Judge Boasberg is a Democrat activist.” Republican president George W Bush appointed Boasberg to the district of Columbia’s superior court, then Democratic president Barack Obama elevated him to the federal court. Boasberg is considered a centrist Democrat and was a roommate of US supreme court justice Brett Kavanaugh, a Trump appointee, while both were studying at Yale University, the New York Times reported, as an aside. Meanwhile, Trump has repeated his declaration that he would not defy a court ruling, even as controversy swirls about whether his administration has already ignored several of them following a spate of negative judgments that threaten to block his governing agenda. Asked by Fox News on Tuesday night if he would ever defy a court ruling, Trump said he would not – but launched an attack on Boasberg, though without naming him. “I never did defy and I wouldn’t in the future, no. You can’t do that,” he said. “However, we have very bad judges, and these are judges that shouldn’t be allowed. I think at a certain point you have to start looking at what do you do when you have a rogue judge. “The judge that we’re talking about is you look at his other rulings … He’s a lunatic.” [...] Fears over the administration’s readiness to defy the courts – widely seen as the only obstacle to Trump’s rampant agenda in the absence of meaningful resistance from a Republican-ruled Congress – seemed likely to intensify after high-profile negative rulings on Tuesday. In one, a US district court judge, Theodore Chuang, ruled that Musk and his “department of government efficiency” (Doge) unit had violated the constitution in “multiple ways” in attempting to dismantle USAid. A separate ruling barred the Pentagon from enforcing Trump’s order banning transgender people from serving in the military, saying it was “soaked in animus”.

Rancid liar White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt pumps out the false talking point that Judge James E. Boasberg is a “Democrat activist” because he ruled against Donald Trump on his illegal declaration of the Alien Enemies Act. In reality, Boasberg has had a centrist judicial record.

Also, on Tuesday night’s edition of The Ingraham Angle on Faux, Trump told a giant lie that he “wouldn’t defy a ruling.”

See Also:

Zeteo: 'Radical Left Lunatic'? The Judge Trump Hates Has Actually Helped Trump in the Past

From the 03.18.2025 edition of FNC's The Ingraham Angle:

youtube

#Donald Trump #Courts #Laura Ingraham #The Ingraham Angle #FNC #James E. Boasberg #Theodore Chuang #Lyin' Donald #Karoline Leavitt #Alien Enemies Act

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hospitalterrorizer · 16 days ago

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diary617

6/10-11/25

tuesday - wednesday

more music stuff...

plus i listened to a bunch of stuff today. i think ano's solo album is okay, her first one, and the yurumerumo ep that looks like the suicide s/t has a really great great great closer, but today i'm most amazed by oomori seiko's pink, which is an ep i haven't heard yet, it seems like it might be one of her most liked things though, or some of the songs off it are. i really love a lot of it, the title track + party dress:

youtube

i love that this one has a warning, the lyrics i guess warrant it.

ときどき手首を切らないと幸せがわからない - If I don’t cut my wrists every now and then, I don’ understand happiness

thankyou to this user for tling these.

i really like them. i mean i dunno what else to say, about them, this one made me tear up, even not really understanding what was being said. i just really liked the song itself. she's so good at performing these feelings/ welling them up in herself. seeing her do it live, in videos, is also really awesome. i love how messy she is.

youtube

great thumbnail this user used, for this one. it describes the song really well. i love the noise in this one a lot. and the shouting. it's really beautiful. the rant, too. it's really moving, somehow, someone called it beautiful, and i think it is like actually beautiful, i dunno how she does it. maybe it's just because i like her already but there is something so beautiful about it, the wailing, the way the song drops out, the sense of place it creates, it's like how things feel internally sometimes, i swear!!

From the bottom of my heart I’m truly, truly helpless and weak-minded, but even so I want to spend my time happily. And just repeat that as many times as it takes. Again and again and again and again, repeat it until I die! Repeat it until I die! And then finally, 50 years, 100 years later in a pure white hospital I can say “Thank you” from the bottom of my heart. People like you, people like me want to say “Thank you” to all the people, all the love, all music, all art. One day, one day, one day, one day!!!!!

once again thank you to this user. like really actually so much really. even if they're a little weird/seem imperfect, it gives me enough to help me out in understanding, a bit more, and it also helps me pick up japanese a little better.

given it's a translation it's hard to parse it entirely, the song at points feels like it's responding to how she's been condescended to in ways, not just for being a woman but in part, and this is at once a plea and an expression of the frustration, kind of detonating the song completely.

but yes... this is a release i love entirely. it's very tiny, which works out in its favor. i like muteki a lot but it's not like i can listen to it all the way through very much, it's very very long. this is a bit like if muteki were razor sharp, instead of a massive freakout.

youtube

love the synths here, just little things accompanying her guitar. i wish she was doing that kind of thing more with the higher productions she can do, stuff surrounding/accenting her guitarwork more, although i do like the super freakishly arranged pop songs she gets to do. i like all the comments on her videos... everyone seems so nice.

youtube

it's insane that warner has this uploaded on their channel. that always makes me feel something funny, that shinsei kamattechan are signed, and noko was always this forward with their feelings and problems, in videos like this. it makes me want to cry... someone left a comment on this video and the translation says "life is still shit and makes me cry," which is probably going to be stuck in my head for a few days. i sort of want to make it a song title, but it might make people scared or something. but it resonates, you know.

oh no... it's 5 am...

well, i was working on a bunch of music stuff today, didn't draw, i thought, i'll put in a replacement for drums in a song, to get it up to snuff, and that turned into me doing a little bit more work on it, and i still need to do more. have to do the busywork of adjusting alll the snare hit velocities. which isn't so hard or bad but it's annoying. just need to make moment in the song pop more and i think part of the issue is the snare, the other issue might be the bass? i dunno. i do like the sound and with the new mix it sounds better for sure. everything sound better on it, everything is clear and audible in the song, the snare eats a lot of space though, because i wasn't writing thinking much about velocity at the time. but at least it's all basically not clipping now, so now its mp3 version isn't messed up. that's something i realized a while ago, since the stuff i make is so loud, it's mostly only listenable on wavs, meaning if i wanna share the mp3 on discord or wherever else of something i'm making, it's not going to be heard correctly, a lot of the time. i mean, mostly, more or less you get the gist of the thing but it's usually redlining. which is bad i guess but that's what it's like working with lots of distortion and weird things. everything is running very hot, intentionally. but there's also 2 new songs and i really like them. uh oh!! and one's grindy, the other has a grindy part but it's kind of catchy too. i want to really force myself to do 20 second long songs... tomorrow maybe. but maybe i should also just do the velocity thing and then draw and stuff. that might be good. thursday we're going to a friend's show which will be nice i'm sure. i was listening to some of his music today, i hope the next time they record he's happy with how it sounds, i think he's always really frustrated with how things come out sounding from whatever studios he's worked with... i hope he home records and has me help out or something.

i did some writing, i guess i can't say i did no drawing, but mostly i looked at what i did last night and did some tiny adjusting. i want to do 2 more faces, i just want to at some point feel solid about what i'm doing. i dunno. it's probably a kind of ocd thing or whatever where i have to prove it. but it's healthier that it's in drawings than torturing myself over being evil or whatever.

i had a dream, i remember where we were, some island in japan, and a forest, a really big forest that seemed like it had to be attached to a continent, on top of a hill, a drive thru for jack in the box, i was sitting, trying to decide if i should get a burger which had too much stuff on it but seemed basically really good, but i'd hate myself after, and then something less satisfying looking. i kept flip flopping and i think my stepdad was driving and he was really really mad at me it felt like. in the forest, a big world destroying thing, hundreds of years later, rediscovering things as in some kind of video game, little items with lore attached. how odd.

the sun's getting brighter... i hate the sun...

not really, i guess, but i hate having to go to sleep. i ate these biscuits called... um, coffee joy? something like that. the box is in the kitchen. they were really good. they tasted like coffee, now i'm wondering if they actually have caffeine content, i didn't look... that would be horrible!! but they are rather good. i wonder if that's why i am awake like this.

i did important chores today too, which is good, too. oh, i found out some manga is getting an adaptation as a movie and ano did the theme for that, i think i will read the manga. it's called takopii no genzai, i read some of it, i'm worried it might end up super awful. but for now it's a kind of miserable that i think can end up good. it's like doraemon crashing into the most miserable child ever.

it's soo late now. i am sooo dumb!!!!!!!!! it sucks that it is hard to sleep because of the problems with peeing that i have for some reason, and that i will probably never get an answer for because going to doctor is like, how could we ever justify that... even if i need to get bloodwork for stuff done, it seems like it's just difficult to manage... whatever....i need to sleep now,

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#Youtube

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multipleentities · 11 months ago

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Today's Agenda

Apples, hatred, and the divine.

I eat a Cosmic Crisp apple with peanut butter almost every morning. I’m not sure I like hot coffee anymore. Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me. Today while listening to Florence + the Machine’s “Girls Against God”, a raindrop fell right on the tip of my nose.

“When I decided to wage holy war

It looked very much like staring at my bedroom floor

But, oh God, you're gonna get it

You'll be sorry that you messed with me”

August is always like this. A year ago this week I was working a shit job, grieving a hook-up, and getting high. Today I have no job, no grief, and haven’t smoked weed in five months. August is always staring at my bedroom floor. At least there’s rain.

Rain means bugs come up from earth and into my bedroom. I dislike centipedes. I dislike most creatures with more than four legs. Does not seem right. I’m having trouble crystallizing my point.

It’s easier to cut an apple standing up, though I often sit. Here are my steps for breakfast:

Press go on coffee machine

Wash apple

Cut apple in quarters

Collect coffee from machine

Add two aspartame packets to coffee

Cut core from apple quarter

Slice apple quarter in at least five pieces

Repeat steps six and seven for the other quarters

Milk in coffee (2%)

Get peanut butter

Enjoy

I wish I could say god will be sorry that it messed with me, but I haven’t been feeling much divinity these days. Eleven steps seems like a lot for breakfast, but I spread it out a bit. Takes less than ten minutes.

The last good day I had was Monday.

Tuesday was shit, Wednesday was shit, Thursday was shit. Today is Friday and also shit.

Divine intervention would be a welcome interruption. My apples are getting boring. My holy war is on the bedroom floor. I have nothing to hate these days, aside from myself. Self-hatred is tired anyway. It’s old news, a washed practice.

I must find another outlet for this hate. Though I guess it’s like, morally wrong to direct it towards other people. (Life is so impossible when I want to be joy.) I could hate people I know, celebrities, family, the concept of a Paul Mescal brand Brooklyn woman, but I’m trying to treat others how I’d like to be treated. Also a washed practice. Maybe I can hate persimmon or incense or plastic beads instead.

A few weeks back I drove out to write and be alone, as all annoying people do.

Here’s the draft:

I feel like sticking my hand into the garbage disposal I think it could chew me up and swallow me right I think that I’m thinking too much about me but what else is there to do inside an empty house? The problem always sticks around So what the fuck is my name again? I’m stuck at the top of the page and my feet are a feast for the mosquitos Home feels like a word in stone and that's just plain unfair I should camp the night in the bed of a pickup designed for murdering children I should start breaking my ankle again I should always turn it off

I haven’t looked at this poem since then. It is not good, but I think there is something to be said about swallowing right. I will ponder.

I went to CVS earlier, the uptown one. Bought nails and soap and hair ties. Used two coupons, it was great

#poetry #poem #diary #introspection #portrait

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la-principessa-nuova · 1 year ago

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My weekly schedule I’ve been stuck in:

Monday: I’m so tired from staying up late doing homework yesterday. I need to just relax after work and watch TV or something.

Tuesday: I want to do something, but by the time work’s over I’m too tired. I’ll do a relaxing activity after work while listening to a podcast or something until it’s time for bed.

Wednesday: OK. I really need to start doing something today after work. But D20 is today. I should watch it. Oh look it’s 3 AM and I’ve done… NOTHING??? I really need to figure out this whole therapy thing. Let me continue compiling a list of potential therapists. This one seems good except for the multiple 1 star reviews alleging very serious breaches of trust and they have no website and I’m not sure if they’re still in business. Well, now it’s too late to send an email anyways, so I’ll table this until morning.

Thursday: At least I can watch D20 and Adventuring Party right in a row after work. Oh, I zoned out and missed the last 20 minutes of the Adventuring Party because I’m so tired from not sleeping enough last night. Now I’ll just get ready for bed early. Wait, HOW IS IT 4AM AGAIN???

Friday: OK, last work day. I need to get to sleep on time tonight even though it’s Friday night. Oh, but I’m falling asleep now at like 7. Just need to push through for another couple hours, then I can go to bed. Oh, it’s now 11 and I’m wide awake. I guess it’s Friday night, so I could go play a game for an hour or two. Oh look, it’s 4 AM again.

Saturday: OK, I woke up still technically in the morning. Time to go do my homework before it’s the last minute again and leave tomorrow for my personal projects. Oh wait, I’m still in bed on my phone and it’s 5 PM. How did that happen? Well, time to go have… lunch? dinner? What is time? Well, it’s now midnight and I’ve not been awake long enough to sleep, so time to stare at the ceiling until… yup, it’s 4 AM. Probably going to fall asleep finally soon.

Sunday: OK. I really need to do my homework now. No excuses. Going to get started now. Wait, what’s this? A text? My mom needs something? What a welcome distraction! Oh look I’ve just gotten home and it’s 11 PM. Time to do homework? Nope! First I need to have a snack and pace around for a couple hours. Now that it’s 2 AM, I can start my homework that’s due at 8 AM. Cool, I’m finally done now at 6 AM. Time to go to sleep and be online for work in 3 hours.

Repeat.

0 notes

waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

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Brutal Out Here

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter gets jealous when you get paired with Brad for a project

Masterlist

“Okay, class. For this project, I’m gonna pick your partners so that we don’t repeat what happened last time.” Your professor announced.

“Hey, what happened was not my fault.” Flash spoke up. “I didn’t know he had a peanut allergy.”

“Peter, you’ll be with Ned.” Your professor ignored him.

“Nice.” Peter and Ned fist bumped.

“Brad, you’ll be with Y/n.” The professor continued.

“Nice.” Brad smiled and held out his fist. You awkwardly smiled back and fist bumped him. Peter watched the interaction and frowned before shaking it off. He figured you were just doing it to be polite and he would probably have done the same if he were in your shoes.

During your lunch break, you all sat together in a dining hall to discuss the upcoming project.

“I can’t believe you got paired with Brad.” Ned said. “I heard some of the girls calling him “braddy” before. As in a combination of “Brad” and “daddy”. That guy cannot be good news.”

“I know. You’re so lucky you get to be together.” You sighed. “Ugh. Why do I have to be with Brad?”

“You really got the worst case scenario.” Peter teased you.

“I hate working with the jocks.” You groaned. “They always say they can’t meet up because of practice and make me do all the work. It’s so annoying.”

“I think we get graded separately on this project. Just do your half and if he doesn’t do his, that’s on him.” Peter tried to comfort you.

“All right. That makes me feel a little better.” You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder. “It just sucks that he’s my partner for this project. It could’ve been fun if I was with someone I knew.”

“Hang on. He’s coming over.” Ned warned. As if on cue, Brad slid into the seat beside you and rested his basketball on the table.

“Hey, Y/n. Hi Peter. Hi Ned.” He greeted everyone at the table. “So when do you think we can work on the project?”

“I’m always out of class by 3 but I work Tuesday’s and Thursdays.” You told him. “When are you free?”

“I have basketball on Monday, Wednesday, Friday.” He said. “I end at 6 though. Is that too late? I bet you have a few 8 am’s.”

“6 is fine.” You shrugged. “I go to bed super late anyway.”

“Same.” He chuckled. “Do you want to swing by practice tomorrow and then we can work in the library?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. See you then.” He held out his fist, and you hit yours against it. Peter frowned as Brad got up and walked away.

“He seems kinda nice, right?” You asked the table once he was gone.

“Yeah. I guess so.” Peter shrugged, feeling jealousy bubble up inside him.

“I don’t know. He was respectful of her schedule and seems like he actually wants to do his part.” MJ cut in, making you all jump.

“How long have you been here?” Ned asked.

“MJ just described the bare minimum of being a good partner.” Peter pointed out. “He’s still a jock which means you’ll probably end up doing all the work.”

“And if you’ll look to your left folks, you’ll see a jealous boyfriend in his natural habitat.” MJ teased. Peter made a face at her while you and Ned laughed.

“Come here. You got pen on your face.” You squished Peter’s face between your hands and loudly kissed his cheek.

“Did you get it off?” He smiled, feeling his jealously dissipate.

“Honey, I’m home.” You announced as you entered Peter’s dorm room a few days later. He laughed at your joke as you climbed into bed with him.

“Hi, princess.” He kissed you hello. “How was your project? Worse than you thought?”

“Actually, no.” You chuckled. “Did you know Brad was a math major?”

“No.” Peter said flatly. “I didn’t.”

“Yeah. He’s insanely good at it.” You said. “He’s gonna do all the equations and I’m gonna do the research. I’m actually really excited about this.”

“Oh. That’s good.” He frowned and absentmindedly played with your hair.

“Yeah. It’s such a relief that he actually pulls his weight on projects. I got so worried for nothing.”

“Hm.” Peter chewed his lip as he listened to you. He wasn’t worried about you spending time with Brad until Brad proved to be a decent guy. Now, he felt like he had something to worry about.

“Anyways, I’m done talking about school for the day. I feel like I haven’t seen you all week. I’ve just been so busy with Brad. How was your day?” You kissed his chest before propping your head up to look at him.

“It was good. I missed you.” He smiled a little as he pushed the thought of Brad out of his mind.

“Did you? What specifically did you miss about me?” You teased before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Everything.” He told you before kissing you again. He propped himself up on his elbows to deepen the kiss, only to be interrupted by your phone buzzing

“Oops. Hang on.” You pulled away and grabbed your phone. You looked annoyed at first, but chuckled once you read the text.

“Who is it?” Peter wondered.

“Brad just texted me a few ideas for our project format.” You said as you typed something onto your phone. “Okay. I’m done. Sorry.”

Peter welcomed you back into his arms, but frowned when you couldn’t see. You had definitely laughed at something Brad had said, but chosen not to share that with Peter. If Peter was worried about Brad before, it was only amplified now.

As the weeks went on, Peter saw you less and less. You were spending all your afternoons with Brad to get your project done. Everyone Peter saw the two of you together, his jealously grew.

“How was the project today?” Peter asked you on a rare afternoon you were free at the same time.

“It was good.” You said. “We got a lot done.”

“Do think you’ll finish early?” Peter hoped.

“I’m not sure. We ended up taking on two topics because we couldn’t decide. It’ll be a lot of work but I’m excited for it.” You told him.

“Oh. Wow.” Peter frowned, knowing two topics meant you’d be spending even more time with Brad.

“Are you and Ned almost done with yours?”

“Almost.” He mumbled, still deep in thought over Brad.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re so quiet.” You noticed.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” He lied as he rubbed your arm.

“Me too. I’m exhausted.”

Peter was silent for a moment until he heard your phone buzz again, followed by the sound of you laughing.

“Is that Brad?” Peter asked, a little too quickly.

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “He’s surprisingly very funny.”

“Oh.” Peter said flatly.

“What?” You looked up in confusion.

“So you’ve chosen violence.” He half joked, half meant.

“Don’t do this.” You laughed. “I just said he was funny.”

“Funny. Good at math. Drop dead gorgeous.” Peter shrugged.

“I never said he was drop dead gorgeous.” You sat up a little and gave Peter a strange look.

“I know. But he is. He’s like crazy hot.” Peter insisted as he got off the bed.

“Woah. Do I have something to worry about?” You tried to lighten the mood when you sensed Peter’s indifference.

“No.” Peter sighed and turned back around. You sat in awkward silence for a minute as something chewed at Peter.

“Do I?” He asked suddenly without looking at you.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Tell me more about your day.”

“It was good.” You shrugged. “Nothing too eventful.”

“Me either.” He replied before thinking of something. “We should hang out on Saturday. It’s been too long since I’ve taken you on a date.”

“Sounds good to me, Petey. I’ve missed you. Even thought you’re grumpy today.” You teased him.

“I’m not grumpy.” He pouted.

“Sure.” You said sarcastically. “You’ve been working too hard on your project. It’s making you cranky. You need to take a break. What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“I was gonna stay at the Tower pretty late tomorrow night to help Mr. Stark with my suit.”

“Oh, okay. That works out nicely then.” You nodded. “I just got invited to a party.”

“Oh, really?” Peter perked up. “Who’s party?”

“Brad and some of his friends were gonna do a campfire by the lake.”

Peter stilled at the mention of Brad. Now, your interactions with him had branched out from strictly school related to hanging out for fun.

“And he invited you?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. Do you think you’ll be with Mr. Stark all night? I could wait for you to come with me.” You offered.

“No, it’s fine. He said he’ll most likely need me all night.” Peter lied. He could probably go if he wanted to, but he wasn’t interested in seeing you and Brad hang out all night.

“Boo.” You playfully pouted. “I’ll miss you. Text me updates. And ask him to add a ventilator to the body of the suit. You stink.”

“I will.” Peter chuckled at your joke, momentarily forgetting about you and Brad.

The next day, Peter was barely paying attention to his class. His mind was preoccupied with the thought of Brad Davis and how much time he was spending with his girlfriend. As he was walking out of his class, he got a text from you and pulled out his phone to read it.

“Text me if you need me. I’ll be at school with Brad.” The text read. Little did Peter know, Flash was reading his texts over his shoulder.

“Parker, my heart goes to you, man. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Flash said as he clicked his tongue.

“What am I going through?” Peter frowned.

“Getting cheated on.” Flash said simply. “At least you can listen to Olivia Rodrigo and get the fully experience now. Remember, even if she didn’t cheat, shes still a traitor.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter felt his face heat up.

“Haven’t you heard? Brad and Y/n are the schools newest couple.” Flash smirked.

“What?” Peter clenched his jaw. “No they’re not. They just have a project together.”

“Really? Because I heard Y/n’s been going to his practices. All his practices.” Flash emphasized. “I’ve never done that for someone I was paired with for a school project.”

“She just meets him after practice so they can work on the project.” Peter explained as he walked away from Flash.

“Interesting, interesting.” Flash tapped his chin. “And what about his games?”

“What?” Peter stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, you didn’t know? I saw her last night at the game. She was cheering on her boyfriend.” Flash stated.

“He’s not her boyfriend. I’m her boyfriend.” Peter said angrily as he took a step closer to Flash.

“Then why didn’t she tell you she was at Brad’s game? Seems like she was hiding it from you.” Flash shrugged. Peter stopped being angry for a second to consider that Flash might be telling the truth.

“You really saw her?”

“Front row.” Flash confirmed. “Cheering for his every move.”

“Face it, Parker. It was only a matter of time before you lost Y/n to someone better. I mean, did you really think you stood a chance against Brad Davis?” Flash snorted. “He’s the taller, stronger, better looking captain of the basketball team. He’s got a car, he’s got money, he’s got friends-“

“-Are you in love with Brad?” Peter cut in.

“Maybe.” Flash shrugged. “And best of all, he’s got your girlfriend. He’s got it all.”

Peter fell silent as Flash’s words went straight to his head. He was already feeling insecure about your relationship with Brad, and Flash just confirmed his worst nightmare. Flash could tell that his plan to mess with Peter worked from the look on Peter’s face.

“Damn. It really is brutal out here.” Flash patted Peter’s shoulder before walking away. Peter clenched his fists into balls and stormed all the way back to his dorm. He was in the middle of thinking of ways to confront you when he heard a knock at his door.

“Hey.” You smiled brightly when Peter opened the door.

“Oh. Hi.” Peter mumbled as he walked back into his room. You frowned at his odd behavior and let yourself in.

“Is everything okay?”

“Did you go to Brad’s game last night?” Peter asked you, hoping you’d say no.

“Yeah. I was at the basketball game.” You told him, making Peter’s face redden.

“Why?”

“Well we worked on the project between practice and his game. He asked me if I wanted to stay and watch, so I did.” You shrugged.

“You didn’t tell me you were doing to his game.” Peter said flatly.

“Well, it was a last minute decision to go. And I knew you were on patrol so I didn’t think I’d have to update you on what I was doing.” You replied, still not realizing that Peter was upset.

“Don’t you think you going to Brad’s game is something I’d want to know?” Peter grumbled.

“Not really. I told you I was gonna be at school with Brad. I was always where I said I’d be.” You answered, starting to get annoyed with his condemning tone.

“But I thought you guys were working on your project. I didn’t know you were at his game.”

“Why does it matter what we were doing?” You laughed awkwardly, not understanding what Peter was getting at.

“Are you serious?” Peter scoffed.

“Are you?” You asked. “What am I missing here? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you not telling me you were at Brad’s game.”

“Why do you keep calling it Brads game?” You wondered. “It was our schools basketball team playing another school. I had nothing else going on and I was already there, so I stayed. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you seem to be getting awfully comfortable with Brad. Since when do you even like basketball?” Peter whined.

“I don’t. But Brad is my friend and he’s on the team, so I watched the game. Why are you so upset?”

“I’m upset because you’re spending all your time with some other guy. I can’t believe that you keep hanging out with a guy you know I’m jealous of.” Peter said as he angrily folded his arms.

“Jealous? Since when are you jealous of Brad?” You asked.

“Since always.”

“How was I supposed to know that? You have never mentioned that once.” You pointed out.

“Yes I- oh. Wait.” Peter stopped himself when he realized you were right. He has been jealous of Brad since the beginning, but this was the first time he actually told you that. He looked at you apologetically but you were already picking up your stuff.

“I’m not a mind reader, Peter.” You sighed “If you were uncomfortable with my friendship with Brad, you should’ve told me. Not that I ever gave you a reason to be uncomfortable with him.”

“How could I not be?” Peter said quietly. “You talk about him all the time.”

“I talk about him when you ask about my project.”

“Well, you went to that party with him. Without me.” Peter tried to continue his argument, but he knew he was in the wrong.

“I invited you to the party.” You reminded him. “You couldn’t go.”

“He’s still Brad Davis.” Peter insisted. “He’s freaking 6’3 and the captain of the basketball team. And the girl says he’s the hottest boy in our school.”

“Have I ever said that?”

“No.” Peter realized.

“So why does it matter what the other girls say?”

Peter stayed silent as he thought about what you were saying. His jealously seemed so silly to him now and all he could think about was how he wrongfully took his frustration out on you.

“Because I’m insecure and I convinced myself you were cheating on me with Brad Davis.” Peter admitted as he hung his head in shame.

“Peter.” You sighed and set your bag down. You wanted to leave, but you knew this was something that needed to be talked about.

“Flash is also to blame!” Peter said quickly. “He’s the one who put it in my head that you were cheating on me with Brad.”

“So you’ll listen to what Flash says before you listen to me?” You got angry again.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I got in my own head. This is all my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did you really think I’d cheat on you? Do you really not trust me?”

“I do trust you.” He promised. “But he’s Brad freaking Davis.”

“Yeah. And Brad freaking Davis has been a lot nicer to me today than you have.” You picked up your bag again and went for the door. Peter opened his mouth to stop you, but you were already in the hall.

“I’ll see you later Peter.” You rolled your eyes before shutting his door. Peter let out a loud sigh and buried his face in his hands, knowing he messed up big time.

Peter didn’t hear from you all day, despite the numerous apology texts he sent you. He was shuffling his feet in the hallway between classes as he tried to come up with a way to get you to talk to him.

“Peter! Wait up!”

Peter turned around when he heard his name and turned to see Brad running to catch up with him.

“Oh. Hi Brad.” Peter mumbled.

“Can you give this to Y/n for me? I took it by accident when I was getting my stuff.” Brad explained as he handed Peter your notebook.

“Sure. I’ll give it to her.” Peter took the notebook but kept the fact that you weren’t speaking to himself.

“So how long have you guys been together?” Brad politely continued the conversation.

“Since high school.” Peter smiled a little. “Sophomore year.”

“Wow. That’s impressive.” Brad nodded. “You’re really lucky to have her.”

“Why do you say that?” Peter felt his jealously seep back in.

“Because she’s crazy about you.” Brad told him. “She brags about you all the time. Hearing her talk about her relationship really makes me miss my girlfriend, though.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Peter’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. We’re long distance now but she’s coming up to visit soon. We should all hang out once she comes.”

“Yeah. I think that would make Y/n really happy.” Peter said quietly as his guilt ate away at him. If Brad had a girlfriend this whole time, Peter had even less of a reason to be jealous. He looked down at your notebook before making a decision.

“Thanks for the notebook, man.” Peter said. “I’ll go give to her room right now and give it to her.”

“No problem.” Brad shrugged.

“And uh,” Peter awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “thanks for being such a good friend to her. I appreciate it.”

“Aw, it’s my pleasure dude.” Brad smiled. “See you later.”

Peter waved to Brad before running off towards you dorm. He knew he needed to make things right with you and fast. He hastily knocked on your and waited for you to answer.

“What are you doing here?” You sighed when you opened up.

“I have something to tell you.” Peter began.

“Okay.”

“I’m really stupid.” He continued.

“You didn’t have to come here to tell me that.” You told him. “I knew that already.”

“You never gave me a reason to be jealous of Brad. I was over thought everything and read into things that weren’t there.”

“I also knew that.” You told him.

“I’m really sorry that I ever thought you cheated.” Peter apologized. “I’m just really scared of losing you. And really stupid.”

“You mentioned that.” You cracked a smile.

“I’m so sorry.” He said again. “I’ve been a jerk to you all week. How can I make it up to you?”

“Brad has another game tonight.” You said coyly. Peter gave you a tight smile, not wanting to go to the game but knowing he needed to make it up to you.

“Let’s skip it and go on our date.” You continued, making Peter’s smile widen.

“Sounds good to me, honey.”

Tag List 🏷

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@nowayhomeparker @willowestelle @imobsessedzs @spideyspeaches @bookfrog242 @hihiweezing @mathletemadison @mackenziejanine @dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @aayaissaa @loudthoughts-softspoken @hallecarey1 @tom-holland-is-bae @adayasgeorgia @sam-hollandsgirl @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu @noimaginationforblognames @mrs-brekker15 @celestialholland @ciarahollands @nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @supermouse1234world @boogywoogywoogy @freakofmusic25 @elizabethraymond @tom-softie @big-galaxy-chaos @crowleysqueenofhell @televisionboy @tomholland85 @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @laic2299 @daydreamingchaos713 @marvel-asgard @marajillana

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker jealous #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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trumpets0ng · 3 years ago

Text

227 - “Arrangements”

Beginning / Previously /Next

((Mutual Friend - Jessie Reyez))

For easier reading, please see transcript below:

W: *deep yawn* Sorry.

P: So, what time did Obie get in?

W: He landed about 9:30, but we didn’t get home until about 11.

P: *smirks* That wasn’t my question…

W: *both laugh* Ew! None of your business!

P: *still laughing* Come on! I am officially living vicariously through you and Dev!

W: Now, that’s just sad.

P: Tell me about it. I haven’t had a drought this severe since sophomore year!

W: Ali—

P: Ali has a girlfriend. That ship has sailed and sunk.

W: What about Kareem or better yet; Drew?

P: Dirk’s Drew? *Walker nods* What about him?

W: You two seemed to have had a nice rapport going in Sulani.

P: I mean, he’s cool… but I think Olivia or Zhi are more his taste, to be honest.

W: You sure about that?

P: No. But that’s not a road I really wanna go down. Right now, I just wanna get through Harvestfest with the Lane-Dreamer clans.

W: Remind me again how you got stuck with that?

P: Hell, if I know. But I’ve already rsvp’d at Dev’s insistence. Should be fun though. Her brothers fly in Tuesday night. Ooh! You should come have a drink with us! Bring Obie.

W: Can’t. We fly out first thing Wednesday; and I mean, first thing! *Penny chuckles* He insisted we go early to get an extra, “full” day.

P: It’s cute how much he loves your family.

W: Yeah, and a little annoying. I think they like him better. *smiling to herself*

P: Nervous?

W: *confused* Should I be? *Penny shrugs, shaking her head noncommittally* They’ve already met and absolutely love him.

P: And Xander? I assume he’ll be there…

W: *softly* Probably… who knows? If I call him, he sends me to voicemail.

P: When was the last time you spoke?

W: Actually spoke? *Penny raises an eyebrow* He’ll text from time to time… like my birthday. But we haven’t actually spoken since Winterfest.

P: Seriously?! *Walker shrugs uncomfortably* Are you ok?

W: Does it matter? *Penny sighs* Look, if it were normal circumstances, I’d be pissed! But they’re not. I woocked up… and now he’s struggling.

P: He’s a big boy, Wawa—

W: I know that. But this isn’t all on him. I dropped a bomb and ran—

P: Which he decided to detonate—

W: After I handed him a lighter! I’m not saying it’s not entirely my fault. I know it’s not. But a major part is. *awkward silence* I just wanted to touch base before we got out there—

P: Why?

W: You didn’t see him at Winterfest! He was gaunt… drinking too much… and now from everything I hear… I don’t want to blindside him.

P: He’s not an idiot. I’m sure he knows you’re coming.

W: Even so—

P: No! Walker, listen… I know what he meant—means to you. But there’s nothing you can do right now. This is one journey, that he’s gotta take on his own. If he needs you, he’ll say so. But the fact that he’s not reaching out, is all you need to know for now. Focus on your life and your man. You can’t afford a repeat of last Winterfest and expect Obie to be ok with it. Xander will be fine with or without you. And though it sucks, you need to be prepared for the possibility that it might just be without you.

#always walker #Walker Pearson #penny pizzazz

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hockeylvr59 · 3 years ago

Text

Here With Me Part 5 || Taylor Makar

Author’s Note: Things are changing and that makes it all the more complicated. aka Kelsey and Taylor spend time together without having sex. This one is a little shorter and a bit of a filler. FC: Marina Laswick (@marooshk on instagram).

Warnings: minor bodily injury, tension // Word Count: 2,167

~~~~

Four

Kelsey hadn’t even realized how frequently she talked to Taylor until it all went quiet with him 5 hours ahead time wise on a completely different continent. And though she’d only had classes Monday and Tuesday, the week seemed to drag. Even when home helping her mom prepare their contributions to Thanksgiving dinner, Kelsey couldn’t get him out of her head.

Thanksgiving itself was nice enough, after all, Kelsey certainly wasn’t going to complain about not having to spend it with her uncle. But once she had consumed way too much food, her brain once again fell on the boy she couldn’t shake. The way his hands touched her body, his sweet smile, the press of his lips on her forehead. Every moment played on repeat. And that was dangerous.

So she tried to focus knowing that she was in the home stretch of the semester. There were papers she had due in the coming weeks and it wasn’t a bad idea to get an early jump on studying for final exams as break ended and classes resumed. Still, she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed when she still didn’t hear from Taylor after she knew the team had returned to campus. But that was his loss and she refused to dwell on it too much even if it made her chest ache.

By Wednesday she had finally managed to put Taylor mostly to the back of her mind. She had hockey to coach and her girls deserved her all. She had a few new drills she wanted to try with them and a few new games as well. It was going to be a fun time.

And it was fun. Kelsey laughed loudly and often and by the time they finished her legs were burning from the exercise and she had a thin sheen of sweat on the back of her neck and forehead.

Stepping off the ice after sending her girls to their parents in the lobby, Kelsey found Taylor leaning against the hallway door.

“Wow. He lives.” Kelsey mumbled, unable to keep the bite from her words.

“Ouch. Claws.” Taylor said softly. “Look, I’m sorry. The time change fucked with me big time and I’ve been trying to catch up on the classes I missed and shit. But I should have sent you a snap or something. That’s on me.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as Kelsey slipped on her skate guards and reached for her bag to go change into street shoes.

“Kels.” Taylor murmured. “I’m sorry.” Sighing, Kelsey nodded signaling that his apology was accepted and she brushed her hand against his under armour covered stomach as she passed through the door.

“Come over tonight?” He questioned as his fingers reached out to touch hers. “I’ll make it all up to you.”

“Yeah. Just message me.” Kelsey stated, trying to dampen her anger because it wasn’t helpful in any way.

Leaving him there, Kelsey changed and headed home to grab something to eat and shower knowing that Taylor was going to be tied up in practice for a couple hours at least. She knew that she probably shouldn’t have snapped at him but it had hurt that he ignored her and then just appeared like that hadn’t happened. When she had last been with him she’d been at her most vulnerable and that had only made things worse in her own head.

Pushing that aside after letting herself have a moment in the shower, she changed into sweats and a hoodie and munched on some pretzels while she waited for Taylor’s message.

Getting the snap that he was headed back to his dorm, Kelsey took a few deep breaths and replied that she was on her way before adding her wallet and keys to the phone in her hand and heading back out to her car. When she arrived she let Taylor know she was there before making her way inside. Meeting him at his suite’s door, she followed him back to his room not noticing him limp slightly.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed by the time she closed his door and kicked her shoes off. Placing one knee on the bed beside him, she quickly straddled his lap and kissed him deeply just needing to shake all of the hurt feelings once and for all. Though Taylor responded, there wasn’t quite the same eagerness she was giving him and doubt swirled in her belly again. If he didn’t want this then why did he seek her out, why did he invite her over. It didn’t make sense.

Continuing to kiss him for a few minutes hoping to get him more engaged, Kelsey finally pulled away ready to ask if she should just leave. It was only as she shifted, bumping against his leg that she heard his soft hiss of pain. Taking in his face, she noticed the grimace in his expression and the pain in his eyes and knew that something was wrong and that it had nothing to do with the two of them.

Moving off of him Kelsey squatted on the ground reaching for Taylor’s pant leg as he murmured for her to come back. Ignoring him, she carefully lifted the fabric revealing a dark bruise the size of a puck.

“Kels leave it.” He pleaded. “Come here.” Though his words were saying one thing, his tone was saying something completely different and Kelsey went with the latter.

“Have you iced this?” She asked, fingers examining the bruise softly and pulling away when he winced again.

His lack of response told her that no he hadn’t and she sighed, letting him haul her up onto the bed.

“Supposed to be making my stupidity up to you but you’re making it difficult.” He grumbled quietly.

Kelsey knew that they weren’t going to be having sex tonight but apparently his stubborness needed to run its course so she slid up the bed to rest against his pillow.

“Come here then.” She stated, waiting for him to join her. Taylor shifted onto the bed beside her, wincing again, and kissed her. Kelsey enjoyed being kissed by him but knowing he was in pain made it a little harder to just let go. Still she played softly with his hair and let him touch her, mentally shaking her head every time he winced from moving wrong.

After five minutes or so and Taylor making multiple attempts to progress things and being stopped by his pain, Kelsey had had enough.

“Taylor you gotta stop.” She whispered. His mumble that he was fine was muffled against her neck and Kelsey sighed again. “Tay c’mon. It’s not arousing for me watching you in so much pain and it’s definitely not going to be arousing for you. Let me go get you some ice.”

Before she could try to slide out from under him to get him ice and meds, Kelsey felt Taylor’s body shake softly and wet drops hit her shoulder causing her to realize that he was crying.

“Oh Tay.” She whispered, carefully tugging him tighter to her, rubbing her hand over his back while threading the other through his hair.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you took a puck to the leg, we didn’t have to do this.” Kelsey whispered after a few minutes. Taylor didn’t answer right away, just continuing to cry but after a few minutes she felt more than heard his answer that he didn’t want to let her down again.

“I’m not that much of a bitch Tay.” In a way she understood, but all she ultimately wanted was for him to communicate with her. “Now can I get you some meds and ice?” She asked softly, brushing some hair from his face.

Though he didn’t explicitly agree, he also didn’t make any effort to keep her there and so she carefully slipped out from under him, moving from his room into the kitchen portion of the suite. In the freezer she found ice packs and after grabbing one and a bottle of water, she moved to ask whether he kept meds in the bathroom or his room. With Taylor’s silent point toward his desk, Kelsey nodded and dug around until she found them, grabbing two pills before moving to sit beside him on the bed.

Kelsey handed him the pills and water and watched him pop them before she murmured for him to get comfy.

“You’re not leaving are you?” He mumbled softly, his voice weak.

“Not unless you want me to. But you’ve got to get settled so I can put this ice pack on you either way.”

As he shifted slightly on the bed, Kelsey was sure she heard him faintly whisper ‘don’t leave’ and it made her heart hurt. Letting him settle, she pulled her hoodie off and used it to secure the ice pack to his leg over his thin pants. Once that was in place, she laid down beside him and pulled his body close, playing with his hair again. “Just need you to talk to me Tay. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Kissing his head, Kelsey just worked to soothe him softly, rubbing his back and playing with the hairs on his neck. When she felt the moisture of his tears on her skin again it was hard not to cry herself but she just swallowed hard and focused on helping him through whatever emotions plagued him.

Eventually his body went limp and Kelsey let out a breath. This was not at all how she had expected tonight to go. But then again, had anything with Taylor gone how she’d expected?

With his body half on top of hers and his heat radiating into her from head to toe, Kelsey felt herself getting sleepy and it wasn’t long before she dozed off.

****

A soft groan. A shift of the uncomfortable dorm mattress. A lack of weight against her shoulder.

Unconsciously, Kelsey reached out to soothe Taylor again, her body just acting on instinct. As she slowly woke up, her brain processed the ringing of a phone and Taylor’s soft assurance that he was okay. Blinking sleepily, Kelsey looked over at Taylor who was sitting on the bed, rubbing at his face.

“Tay…” She inquired softly, everything taking longer to filter through the fog of sleep.

“Just hungry and need to pee.” He assured her, twisting to kiss her head. “Want to go get food?”

Nodding, she yawned and stretched, sitting up to hug him from behind.

Letting her for a moment, Taylor got up and took the ice pack off, handing her her sweatshirt back. Feeling that it wasn’t all that cold any more made her crinkle her nose in confusion and as Taylor moved to use the bathroom, Kelsey checked her phone as she slipped on her shoes and her eyes went wide. It was almost ten which meant that they had just slept for over two hours. She had not planned on being here even half that long.

But while she had things to do, she knew deep down she needed to make sure that Taylor was okay and she could use food after a light dinner earlier.

As Taylor used the bathroom he shot his parents a text in response to their two missed calls that he’d had a tough practice, fell asleep, needed to get dinner, and that he would talk to them tomorrow. Then he stepped out assuring Mercs that he was fine as his roommate headed back into his own room and moved back to his room asking if Kelsey was ready to go.

By the time she climbed into her car after using one of Taylor’s guest dining swipes, it was almost midnight and her mind was even more jumbled than it had been during the entire duration of Taylor’s silence.

She couldn’t for the life of her recall the last time that she had taken a nap and she certainly couldn’t recall napping for two hours unless she was sick. Yet somehow tonight she was certain she would have slept for even longer if Taylor hadn’t woken up.

And while just hours ago she had been so hurt to the point of being mad at him, now she hurt for him and all of that anger was gone.

And while she’d wondered before if this was more than just sex, now she couldn’t deny that it clearly was even if she had no clue what it actually was. Sure tonight had been intended as sex but it certainly hadn’t gone that way and yet that hadn’t made her run for the hills. She’d wanted to stay, needed to comfort him, and looking back there was absolutely no way she would have done that for any of her previous hookups.

This was different. And it was going to drive her crazy as she tried to figure out just what it all meant.

#taylor makar #taylor makar imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #046

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enhyupn · 4 years ago

Text

⧉ enhypen as your classmate that has a crush on you! ᝢ ∷

pairings: ot7 enhypen members x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence in jay’s one

genre: pure fluff + high school!au

a/n this also. Was in my drafts 💭 i was contemplating if i should post this or not but here i am 😫 i Post too much sorry everyone iJust have no life outside of school 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

⌗ heeseung

heeseung is definitely the type of person that tries to talk to the person he sits beside all the time

he nudges you all the time and whispers your name whenever he wants your attention

and the fact he had a huge crush on you also added to it

enhypen always have to listen to him since he never ever stops talking about you. like ever.

“oh my god you will never know what y/n told me when i—” and suddenly he’s cut off by the rest of them yelling “we know!”

you never snap at him because you kinda... enjoy the attention

maybe thats how you knew you kinda liked him too, since you could never let sunoo get away with this if he ever called for your name in class

your relationship only stopped there for a while, since the two of you lowkey scared of each other

“no i feel like y/n’s gonna snap at you one day, like completely just punch you in the face” jay once told him and ever since, he’s never looked at you the same

you think heeseung’s just intimidating, the amount of times you’ve jumped in your seat whenever he’s called your name is numerous

although, one day you fell asleep in class due to the fact you left your english essay last minute the night before

heeseung, noticing you drooling on the table, wrote down the notes for you

he handed them to you after class and you were so touched that you couldn’t stop telling sunoo about it

“his hand writing’s so neat and—” “i get it, you can shut up now!”

you even told heeseung his hand writing was the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen for a week straight

he was happy of course, but honestly unsure how he was supposed to reply to the compliment

he figured out by himself that all he needed to do was ask you if you wanted him to write your name

“heeseung, i mean it! i can’t get over how you write ‘the’, it’s just so— so neat!” “oh really? let me write your name out”

being the smooth guy that he was, wrote down his number instead of your name

and you being the oblivious person you were, ended up being utterly confused

“heeseung i think—” “I WROTE MY NUMBER ON PURPOSE”

you never really got over the shock, nonetheless still took his number and texted him that night

you ended that night by kicking your feet in the air with your face feeling like it was on fire

oh, you also ended up planning a date with heeseung on saturday, not a big deal

it was actually the biggest deal ever

the rest of the head canons are under the cut!

⌗ jay

jay was 100% the type to tease someone when he had a crush to get their attention

he wanted all your attention and the way he got that was through telling you your portrait of a dog looked stupid

well yeah, it did but he didn’t need to point it out

everyone in your art class knew jay had a raging crush on you

he just didn’t know how to express it

his friend jake told him the way into your heart was talking about a mutual interest

jake was, sort of, right about his advice. well, until you and jay started bickering about a character you loved but he oh so hated

“mabel in gravity falls was annoying and weird” “jay if you say that one more time i will shove this paint brush down your throat”

jake, who was trying to play cupid, could not understand why he was so bad at this

i mean jay had no problem getting girls to like him but you? did you genuinely hate jay or something?

“no jake i don’t hate jay” well that answered his question

“he’s just weird” “weird? i’m weird?” “yeah do i need to repeat it again? park jay is weird” you two were a match made in heaven

jay didn’t know when but he had a revelation, maybe this wasn’t the approach he should take to get your attention

after that, he started to be extremely nice to you

it definitely scared you

“d-did i do anything?” “what no? i’m just saying your painting looks beautiful y/n” “oh no something’s definitely going to happen”

he was finally tired of trying so hard while ending up with nothing achieved

jake, being the one out of the two who had the most realistic ideas, decided to give him one more tip

“do you think it’ll work?” “it’s fool proof”

the tip was simply him asking you out to the movies, something that was a little too forward for jay

“no i don’t think it’ll work jake” “jay i swear to god you are going to end up single For the Rest of your Life”

it took... many attempts... and many insults towards you for him to even get the first line out

“Y/NPLEASEGOTOTHEMOVIESWITHME” “the movies? sure” “wait, really? i meant it in a romantic way by the way” “oh? sure i’m free on friday”

turns out you were into him too i mean it was kinda obvious from the way you dealt with those insults

even when you started dating after that date, the insults never stopped

it just now targeted jake, who really is just asking for it at this point from the amount of times he’s asked for credit for ‘getting both of you together’

he was never getting that credit

⌗ jake

jake would leave secret love letters in your locker every time he walked past it

i mean the action wasn’t as secret as he thought it was due to the fact you knew he was the one leaving those letters

for god’s sake the boy was literally in almost all your classes, you were walking the same way as him when he slipped those letters in???

you still were very grateful for them

without them, i think you would of not coped with school

they were all incredibly detailed and even had little doodles drawn around them

you once had remembered he mentioned that he wrote these in the morning before school started during first period

he also told you he was really really shy you found it incredibly cute

the only way he could speak to you without melting was through these letters

somehow you decided that the best thing to do was put replies in his lockers too

his first reaction was complete embarrassment, the fact you knew who he was had his face heating up like nothing else

but he soon realised you didn’t think it was weird or creepy, you actually looked forward to his letters every school day

he mustered up so much courage after that to talk to you in person, to personally thank you

“THANK YOU Y/N!” “NO IT’S FINE JAKE YOU DON’T HAVE TO BOW”

he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before pulling something out from his back pocket

the final letter in his series of love letters showing up in his hands

“open it” his shy smile making your brain Melt in endearment

the letter contained the usual, the hello y/n! and the usual chatter about his day

what you didn’t expect was the fact he had asked you out at the bottom of the letter

“y/n i’ve liked you for a while now, will you go out with me?” you read out loud before realising what you had just read. “OH MY GOD YOU ASKED ME OUT?”

you pull him into a tight hug, something that jake heated up at

“is this a yes?” “are you seriously asking that right now? of course we are”

you two became the most sickly sweet couple ever

plus the fact you still placed letters in each other’s lockers made enhypen gag (in an affectionate way)

they were just jealous nobody was putting letters in their lockers

⌗ sunghoon

sunghoon always seemed to be there whenever you needed help

especially since you two helped out at the library together every wednesday

he looked forward to it every week, you could tell from the fact ever tuesday he’d remind his friends that the next day he was seeing you again

“tomorrow’s wednesday you know what that means” “yes sunghoon we know, you’re seeing y/n tomorrow”

whenever he’s finished his work (which he does at an incredibly fast pace) he always seems to end up trailing you

constantly asking if you need help, desperate to do something

you find it endearing, always ending up chuckling at his whiney words

“y/n! do you need any help i’m finished” “not at the moment but if you wanna chat i can!”

out of all the enhypen members i feel like sunghoon would have the softest feelings for his crush

like even outside of your assigned library work, he’d constantly check up on you during lunch

“here y/n! it’s a packet of those gummies you like” “how sweet that you remembered! thanks for them”

you, even with sunghoon’s constant affection, couldn’t realise he had a crush on you

you thought that he was like that with everyone, you didn’t think that you were particularly special to get any type of unique treatment from park sunghoon

it wasn’t until your classmate asked you if you and sunghoon were dating

“hey are you and sunghoon dating?” “ummmm no why” “oh my friend wanted to know, they like him that’s why”

that didn’t sit well with you.

you thought long and hard about it but there was literally no reason for you to be bothered about it

i mean? you didn’t like him like that right

wrong

you decided to ask his dearest friend heeseung for help

“heeseung what do i do why do i feel like this” “i don’t know ask sunghoon” “...you aren’t helping”

heeseung being the big blabber mouth he is, told sunghoon all of this

“y/n won’t shut up about you” “really? you’re telling me the truth right? please don’t lie to me”

from many many uplifting comments from his friends, sunghoon was able to talk to you without mentioning the library

“so... what did you do in art class today?” “oh? i don’t do art” i mean at least he tried

after a few attempts he finally hit the nail on the head, securing his place as one of your friend... not the position he was aiming for but at least it was something

that’s when he prepared himself for the final boss (that’s what heeseung called the plan)

interrupting the conversation you both had on what disney show was the best, he popped the big question

“no but mulan was pretty good too also do you wanna go on a date with me” “oh sure! that was really random though”

i mean his timing was incredibly terrible but you were over the moon

even with the calm messages the both of you had sent, the two of you were screaming at your screen, unable to contain any composure

i mean it’s sunghoon... even if he handed you a piece of trash to as his way of asking you out you’d still say yes

⌗ sunoo

no but sunoo definitely asks your friend what your favourite song is and puts it on his story so you can slide up and be like “omg!! i love this song”

OH he also texts you randomly at 11:11 and 22:22 so you think it’s a sign

he so so so desperately wants your attention all the time

he goes up to you at lunch even when you’re with all your friends and makes conversation with you making you forget all about your friends

he sits in front of you in maths! so he knows how bad you are at the subject, he can hear your muttering about how you got a question wrong every morning but don’t Worry! he finds it adorable for some reason

at first he started to pretend he wouldn’t understand a question so he could find a way to talk to you

“hey y/n! what’s six times five again” “are you serious?”

he’s actually kinda good at maths so you’re always confused on how he doesn’t understand basic multiplication but can get 90% on the algebra test

he loves, and i mean loves, talking to you during class

even if the teacher scolds him he doesn’t care, it’s simply the highlight of his day

he gets so pouty and jealous when you excuse him in the middle of a conversation to talk to someone else

he gets jealous especially whenever you talk to his friends instead of him

“hey ni-ki! what did you get for number five?” “oh i got—” “I GOT TWELVE FOR THAT ONE Y/N!”

you kinda adore it not gonna lie

at one point your teacher got incredibly fed up with you two talking class

so! sunoo resorted to passing notes to you

‘y/n did you hear? oh my god, jihan from the maths class beside us told me that yeojin from the year above us got suspended because she started fighting the teacher over her phone. can you believe that? i mean i would of done the same thing’

it was quite clear sunoo talked a lot even through notes too

i mean as if you didn’t reply with the same energy

‘I HEARD THAT TOO!! gowon from her class told me, plus! intak said he saw the whole thing too... omg honestly i think yeojin’s so cool for doing that. maybe i should fight our maths teacher if they try and yell at us for talking again?’

they were one of the many things sunoo loves you for <3

one day ni-ki, being the number one shipper of you two, decides to play Cupid on the two of you

he drew out a note that looked too similarly to a middle school confession text and placed it on sunoo’s desk

“do you like me y/n... tick one. yes. no.” “do you like it?” “what the fuck is this”

i mean sunoo Took it anyways, he knew you’d find it funny too

as usual, you prepared yourself for a long class of sliding notes to each other

you looked forward to it, you found it as a source of entertainment and you liked talking to sunoo anyways

“pssst, y/n!” “thanks— wait did you give me the right one?”

after many whisper shouts and glares from your teacher, he finally convinced you that they were the real deal

obviously. You chose yes

that’s how you landed a date with sunoo to a picnic at han river

sunoo and you were. Kinda.... thankful for ni-ki

you two just never wanted to admit his stupid cupid-ry worked

⌗ jungwon

definitely the type to ask you “what homework did we get?” so he can start a conversation with you

replies to your private story with like “omg that’s so funny” or like “PLSSSSS me too”

you do exactly the same with his ps honestly

he always talks to you before class and you have heated discussions about the homework the night before

YOU ALWAYS ALWAYS end up sitting beside him in every class you have together

like it’s not even on purpose anymore (it’s actually fate)

always lends you pens and pencils when you forget them

he also never Asks for them back so you Have like a stash of them at home beside your bed because you always forget to give them back to him

you and jungwon are the kids in pe class that walk around the track gossiping

“jake told me that half of the soccer team aren’t getting along these days because they all like the same person” “no way really? what about their team work, isn’t there some sort of huge match next week?”

the gossip only stays between you two but only ever during pe

you two talk about more, interesting things outside of pe

since you two are in basically every class together, you walk with him everywhere

once when you were about to trip over, jungwon caught you and when you realised you were in his arms, you just blankly stared at him for a good five seconds

once you got off of him your face started to heat up so fast jungwon’s too

every time you have homework due and you didn’t do it he lends you his word

“y/n take this! it’s the french homework from last class” “thanks so much jungwon!”

the real story starts with when you and him were practicing speaking french in the library

you, being terrible at french, needed some sort of help with this

jungwon decided that, even though he completely sucks at french, he should tutor you!

and there you were, ten reasons why i hate you style, in the library struggling on how to pronounce beaucoup

“bow-cewp” “good job y/n!” “jungwon i know for a fact that you don’t know if i’m saying this right”

you stuck up with it because, well because he’s jungwon

“je t'aime you”

i mean you were Terrible. at french but even the stupidest person in the world could figure that out

“i like you too jungwon, now help me with question six” “YOU COULD UNDERSTAND THAT?” “i had a paris phase when i was younger of course i did”

turns out the Parisian style bakery across the street is the perfect date on an afternoon after school

what was even more perfect was that you got 85% on your test with the help of your boyfriend

⌗ ni-ki

he was your partner in cookery class, the both of you had no cooking skills in your bones but you still made it work

you were in the class since your family constantly nagged at you for being terrible in the kitchen

while ni-ki enrolled because he needed the something to show his friends after school

ni-ki thinks he fell for you at first sight

you were baking cookies as your first task and you basically saved him by reminding him to put on oven gloves before getting the cookies out

“that’s the bare minimum” jay tells him. “i don’t care... you wouldn’t know what love feels like”

he looks forward to cooking class because if you every week

he even has it scheduled on his calendar

honestly it’s kind of a miracle the food you two make is some sort of eatable

he always asks you for help even if it’s the simplest thing ever

“y/n? which one is a cup?” “the one that literally says one cup?”

you don’t care though since you think it’s cute

you always end up doing most of the cooking and chopping whil ni-ki just washes the dishes and watches the pot boil which eagerly waits for the food to finish

you’ve met all of enhypen before since ni-ki likes them to gather around your creations and take pictures of them together

when enhypen first collected him from cookery class, they asked him which one of your classmates were you

he literally shyly pointed at you as he hid his face with his hair

“them” “huh? ni-ki who are you pointing at” “them, beside the fridge”

your final exam was to decorate and bake a cake

it’s safe to say from the many burnt cakes you and ni-ki have done, you two were in trouble

you both wanted that passing grade so you practiced almost everyday after classes the week before

he was in charge of the icing, apparently according to him it was his specialty

“look y/n!” “how cute! a little unreadable but very cute”

finally. the Day of the exam came

you both had to prepare and bake the cake together under two hours

you were lucky that you both weighed the ingredients before you arrived

it was definitely. The most stressful two hours you two had ever felt

it also didn’t help that ni-ki shooed you away when he was icing the cake

by the end of it, your face was Dusted with flour while ni-ki’s apron had butter and frosting stains all over it

you were instructed by ni-ki and even your teacher, to stand where the fridge was, out of your sight to see what he was doing to the cake

you were hazily scrolling through your phone when jungwon snapped you back into reality

turns out jungwon was outside the room the whole exam because ni-ki told him he needed support and having him there comforted him

almost instantly after your jungwon interaction, ni-ki called you from your table, excitedly waving his arms in the air

“y/n! y/n! i’m finished!” “perfect! let me—”

your eyes widened realising his cake didn’t say anything like ‘happy birthday’ like you two had planned

instead the icing spelt out a prettily written out ‘y/n, will you go on a date with me?’

your eyes seemed to water at the gesture, unsure why you got so emotional at icing

“n-ni-ki... that’s so c-cute” “why are you crying? oh my god you hate me don’t you?”

it took you ten minutes to stop sobbing (happy tears) and you gladly accepted his proposal

so now you got a Good grade and an amazing boyfriend that can... sort of! Cook

while eating the cake you were reminded with something, remembering some words from earlier

wait did mr lee know about this?

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen timestamps #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader

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redbeardace · 4 years ago

Text

I was asleep.

Everyone remembers where they were. I was sleeping.

I was in college then. Summer quarter had ended a few weeks ago, and Fall quarter was a few weeks away, so I had nothing to do that Tuesday. I was sleeping.

My mother would get up to help get my father ready for work. He'd leave a little after 6 AM. Then she'd stay up and turn on the KTLA Morning News. We weren't in Southern California, but we'd lived there and had family connections there, so it felt like a "local" newscast, even though it was a thousand miles away. So most weekdays, I'd fade into consciousness, hearing the rhythm of the broadcast.

Carlos to Mark, Mark to Jennifer, Jennifer to Sam, Commercial, Repeat.

That morning, none of that.

I couldn't really hear what was going on, but it wasn't normal. There were no jokes, no music, no commercials, no changes. Just a steady drone.

I started to listen, to try to hear what was happening.

I heard something about the Pentagon and a bomb at the State Department.

Well. That's not good.

I roll out of bed and into the living room. It was a little after 7:30.

There's a helicopter shot of giant cloud of dust on the TV. Dust. A few buildings. here and there. But dust. Everywhere. It looked like Mt. St. Helens had moved to the city and erupted.

It wasn't the Pentagon. It wasn't the State Department. Was that New York?

"Planes hit the World Trade Center towers." My mother's voice is shaky.

Okay, then, somewhere in that dust are the towers. They build those things to survive plane strikes. It survived the bomb in '93. The Empire State Building got hit by a plane and it's still standing. She told me that they'd fallen, but I didn't believe her. I couldn't believe her. They're just hidden by the dust and the dust will clear.

The dust will clear. The towers can't just fall. You'll see.

The dust will clear.

There was nothing there.

---

We watched what was unfolding on the other side of the continent all day long. I think my father got sent home early and joined us.

Watching a day like that unfold live is an experience that's hard to describe. You look back now, and there's a clear timeline, there are clear events. But on that day, nothing was clear. The news was an unbroken stream of numbing repetition and confusion. The anchors narrating what's going on have a worse view of it than you do, because they're squinting at small monitors halfway across the studio. You can flip between CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, and pick up little tidbits here and there, but they can't. They only have what comes through their earpiece, what ends up on their TelePrompTer, what's handed to them on paper. No one knows what's going on, not even the people telling you what's going on.

That day was full of rumors and confusion. There were attacks at the State Department and the FBI, there was a plane that had crashed in rural Pennsylvania, there was a plane that had been hijacked in Alaska. We didn't know what was real, and what was a phantom of fear. But mostly, it was just the numbing repetition. There was nothing new to add. Nothing more to say at 1 PM that hadn't been said at noon. What got repeated is what had happened, what didn't get repeated hadn't. The plane crash in Pennsylvania got repeated. The attack at the State Department didn't.

All day long, it was the same video from earlier in the day. Maybe a new angle as reporters and survivors got their footage to a TV station. But we watched it again and again. Maybe there'd be a new detail to see, something to fill in another piece of the What The Fuck Just Happened puzzle we were now living in.

In a weird way, that day didn't seem as bad as it went on and the rumors subsided and the scope became clear. My morning started with a dust cloud that covered all of Lower Manhattan and obscured what had happened. Had the towers toppled sideways and crushed dozens of buildings for blocks around? It was 9 AM on a Tuesday, a work day, those buildings were full, and the area was a major commuter hub. 10000 people in each building, maybe tens of thousands passing through, hundreds of thousands in that cloud of dust. There's no one alive down there. The initial estimates they gave were 20-30 thousand in the collapsed towers alone, to say nothing of the people suffocated by that cloud of dust and smoke. And then Washington DC is under attack and they're even hijacking planes in Alaska. What are they going to do to us next? But the death toll steadily dropped, other rumored attacks were found to be false alarms, they didn't come back for a second round. But that "good" news didn't make us feel any better. What would've made us feel better would've been word that they had been rescuing dozens of people from the rubble, stories of survivors being found days later, but that news never came.

---

Where's the President? Why haven't we seen the President? Why hasn't he said anything?

"He's safe and in an undisclosed location."

On September 10th, George W. Bush was just a bumbling dumbass who'd stolen the election from Gore. He wasn't yet a warmonger, although he'd surrounded himself with them.

On September 11th, Bush was still a bumbling dumbass, but he was our President. I was actually glad that he was invisible and hidden most of that day. We didn't know what in the hell was going on. If I knew where the President was, then the assholes who did this to us would know where he was, and no matter how much I didn't like the guy, I certainly didn't want to see a terrorist attack on Air Force One or the White House.

But I was worried that he'd send in the missiles and bombers and turn everything from Morocco to Pakistan to ash, which is what some people were calling for before we even knew who was responsible. And that's not what happened. All that happened that day was... nothing. I respected that, and I still respect that. Rushing headlong into revenge isn't what we needed that day.

---

We ended that day, not with Dan Rather or Peter Jennings or Tom Brokaw, but with Hal Fishman, legendary anchor on the KTLA News at Ten. He was a plane guy. He'd know what happened. He was comfortable to us, familiar, and we needed to know there was still something out there comfortable and familiar.

---

The next day, my mother wanted a break from it all, so we went shopping. I don't think we needed to, and Wednesday wasn't the normal shopping day, but we just had to get out, so we went to Wal-Mart.

Throughout the store, there were TVs hanging from the ceiling. Normally, they'd show ads and music videos and things. Not that day. They were all tuned to CNN. People stopped in the middle of the aisle, watching Condoleezza Rice or Donald Rumsfeld or Colin Powell or whoever giving a press conference.

There was no break from it.

---

Does everyone else know it was a Tuesday? I mean, just know. Like somehow that is an important, integral part of what happened that day. Because I know it was a Tuesday with that same fierceness as I know that the towers fell. I don't remember all the flight numbers or which tower was hit first or which one fell first or even a single word of what the President said that night, but I know it was a Tuesday. And I don't understand why.

---

I've cried over it. I just did while writing all this. It's one of the few things I have cried about. But it's never sustained weeping. One tear. Maybe two. It feels like it should be more, but then it's like the scale becomes incomprehensible and unreal and it stops. What good will my tears do? They won't fix it. They won't change it.

---

"Never Forget", they say, but twenty years on, many of you have no memory of that day, maybe even weren't born yet. You've only seen the packaged videos from the perfect camera angles. You know what happened, the full story told from beginning to end across three acts in a two hour movie. You know the death toll, you know about the box cutters, you know how Osama Bin Laden ends, you know where the undisclosed location is, you know about the plane that said "Let's Roll". We didn't know any of that, sometimes for days or weeks or years. We only knew shock and confusion and sadness and anger and numbness and a giant cloud of dust that has not cleared and will never clear and still coats everything in our lives, even if we were thousands of miles away.

For those of us who saw that day...

Never forget?

How could we?

#9/11 #september 11th

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missskzbiased · 4 years ago

Text

Eggy First Date

Summary: You can’t seem to catch a break this week. You’ve run out of eggs, visibly stained your living room carpet with grape juice, and worst of all: your laundry machine has broken down. Such an event has resulted in you awkwardly shuffling your dirty clothes to the nearest laundromat, but hey, at least the boy using the machine next to you is cute!

WC: 2,3 K

Requested: By Stayndays <3 Thank you, Buddy!

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff, Humor (?)

AUs: College, (Implied) Classmates to Lovers, Crushes, Kinda Friends to Lovers

Pairing: Yang Jeongin X GN! Reader

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of food, Language (Crap/Shit)

////

Yep… Turns out it’s impossible to fix one’s life in a few hours.

You should have known better than letting everything pile up like that, but now it was a little bit too late to be sorry. As your phone insisted on reminding you ─ alarm shouting for anyone to hear ─, your parents should arrive at your apartment in about two hours. It didn’t sound too bad when you put it like this, but when you think in perspective, it’s kinda easy to see why you’re screwed up…

The first problem: You have no eggs.

It may not sound that alarming, but you promised your mom to flex your culinary skills and bake her favorite cake as soon as she came to visit you. Funnily enough, when you tried to fix some scrambled eggs on Tuesday ─ a hopeful attempt to eat anything other than cup noodles ─ you had to drop half of them to your recently cleaned floor. In other words, not only you had to clean your floor again but you also had only four eggs to make your lunch and survive the week… Which meant you ran out of eggs by Wednesday.

Now, you didn’t have to be a genius to know that having no eggs meant no favorite cake for your mom… And as much as having no cake didn’t sound like the end of the world, it was only the beginning. No cake meant questions, and questions meant answers, and answers meant you would have to either tell them the truth or lie to them… Unfortunately, you couldn’t tell them the truth or else you would expose your Thursday’s mistake, but we’ll get to that later.

That being said, you were left with two options: Lie to them ─ and risk being caught ─ or buy fresh eggs to bake her a cake. It was needless to say that you went with the last one. However, by Wednesday night ─ when, despite having no eggs, you had finals to worry about ─, buying your groceries after your exams, on Friday, sounded like the perfect plan. And it kinda was… At least for the next 24H that followed it, before you managed to screw everything up on Thursday.

The second problem: Grape juice.

You were stressed out, alright?! You had only one more day to go with your exams and it may or may not have gotten to your head. So drinking grape juice on the couch ─ since you had no actual food to eat and have been feeding on liquids ─ while watching a 20 minutes episode of Brooklyn 99 was a good way to relax. Perhaps, you should act more like the nonfunctional college student that you were. This way, you would be studying in your room instead of missing the coffee table as you laughed; spilling your juice on the carpet.

Of course, it couldn’t be a normal carpet that was totally replaceable… No, it had to be the very own carpet your grandma gifted to your father when he moved out… It happened to be the same one her mother gave to her when she moved out as well! Of course, it had to be this one and not the stupid carpet on your bathroom that meant absolutely nothing. It had to be the carpet your father gifted to you while saying that this new journey full of responsibilities ─ also called miserable college life ─ would be blessed by your previous generations or whatever!

Basically, you just drowned your whole family in cheap juice that tasted like purple! Because of a joke! A joke that wasn’t even that good! It definitely wasn’t worth it.

Whatever was the necessary skill to remove a stain from a carpet, you didn’t have it. And you didn’t have the time to learn it either. So, as a desperate student, you did the best you could: Blot the liquid with a wet cloth, pour about half of the ocean over the spot, mix the most random stuff you had, soak the carpet overnight, and go off to sleep so you wouldn’t botch your finals.

The third problem: The Rise of the Machines.

When you got home after your exams ─ no eggs, ‘cause your mind was too focused on saving the carpet ─, you were still hopeful that everything was going to be okay. The Internet blessed you with the ultimate knowledge to remove any stains from a sacred carpet and you followed each step as if your life depended on it. Because it did. You did such an amazing job that the spotless area turned into a clean spot on the dirty carpet… And that, dearest friends, was the real problem.

It was exactly 10:27 PM when you decided to shove your carpet into the washing machine and go downstairs to buy a burger on your friend’s stand. It was about 11:13 PM when you got back to your place, happily fed and unworried about your life. It took you less than a minute to have all of your happiness fading away as you saw that the foam spilled over the floor, bringing you a sad realization: Your washing machine had failed you.

In other words, you had a damp, dirty carpet to save, a dozen eggs to buy, a cake to bake, and a lie to keep in the next… Twelve hours or something. And you needed to sleep for at least half of that time. But that was okay! Everything was fine… You had six hours to fix your entire life tomorrow, right? Yeah… Except that not really, no. Because obviously ─ how didn’t you see that coming? ─, your phone had decided to not wake you up the next morning.

The fourth problem: Your parents.

The two hours ahead of you could mean twenty minutes or even a second… Knowing your parents, they could be standing right in front of your door, ringing your bell and asking themselves why you weren’t home. The answer would be because you were at the laundromat next to your building, which wasn’t the cheapest one but it was the closest thing you had to a miracle right now. Well, it would be, if the washing machine actually gave a shit about your struggles.

As the water slowly spilled over your carpet ─ instead of being gushed to soak the damn thing ─, you let your shoulders drop and a sigh escape from your lips. You didn’t know if you felt more relieved for finally having things working out or defeated for having to go through all of this. The exhausted eyes you met in your reflection were a good hint, though, and you got closer to the glass door to rest your forehead on the cold surface and take a small break. At least ─ as long as your parents didn’t arrive before the drying cycle ─, they would never know about the truth and everything should be just fine… You wouldn’t need to worry about being kicked out from the family.

“Crap” You grumbled, mindlessly knocking your head on the door on repeat.

“Tough day, huh?” The soft voice was familiar, but the warm hand preventing you from hitting the glass again wasn’t. You frowned before turning to check if you weren’t going crazy. To your misfortune, the cute boy smiling sympathetically at you was exactly who you thought it was “That’s bad for you” He pointed out, chuckling as he watched you snapping your head away from his hand.

“Hey!” You blurted; face burning to the thought of him seeing you like this. Why everything had to go so wrong in your life?! Why did Jeongin have to see you wearing the most sloppy outfit you could ever wear? Your hands flew to your hair to try and fix the nest on top of your head “What’s up?” You huffed playfully; hitting his shoulder lightly in the most unnatural way that you could.

Way to go, Y/N! Humiliate yourself in front of your crush!

“Just washing some stuff” He shrugged, pointing to the machine next to yours, “You don’t usually come here, though… Well, at least, I never saw you here before” He mused, arching his brow “Are you following me around now?” He whispered teasingly, cupping his hand around his mouth as he smirked at you.

“What?! No!” You panicked, widening your eyes and floundering your hands in the air “I’m not, I swear!” You insisted as he stared at you mockingly, “If anything you’re the one following me! I live nearby! Where do you live?! Is it even close?!” You defended yourself vehemently; poking his chest as you visibly lost your mind.

“I’m joking, jeez!” He chortled, rubbing his torso “Calm down, Y/N… It’s your neighborhood, I know” He reassured you, squeezing your shoulder and chuckling as you relaxed under his touch “I was just trying to make you feel better” He explained; hand sliding to pat your back “What’s up? Did you mess up on your exams?” Jeongin asked; tone wandering around curiosity and worry.

“No… I did just fine” You sighed; getting him to tilt his head in confusion ─ he’s so cute scrunching his nose like this! ─ while you smiled at him, getting back to your senses.

It was just Jeongin, for Lord’s sake… He was your classmate! He had seen you look way worse than this before, if you were being honest. Which wasn’t that reassuring now that you think about it… But anyway! He had seen you drooling all over your desk, and snoring, and looking like a zombie! There was nothing to worry about… Even if he kinda is really cute and you kinda have a crush on him.

“Wanna talk about it?” He offered friendly. Did he really have to be this kind and bubbly while smiling at you? Couldn’t he be a little bit less cute? Or just look like a normal human being while doing his laundry? Like having messy hair… Or messy clothes… Or dark circles under his eyes… Or just not look this fresh and perfect and… “Y/N?” He called unsurely, waving his hand in front of your eyes.

“Sorry” You rushed to say, ducking your head between your shoulders “I... I mean, there’s a lot going on in my mind now” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t quite the truth. You were just thinking about him, but he didn’t need to know that, “Mom and Dad are going to come and visit me today… I promised to bake her a cake, but I ran out of eggs” Now you were just spilling whatever was on your mind, hm? It probably didn’t even make sense for him.

“And you thought doing your laundry could get you some?” He joked confusedly, laughing as you pouted at him.

“No…” You whined, kicking him lightly “I knocked my grape juice on the family’s sacred carpet… So I’m trying to make it look okay or else my dad is going to kill me” You explained further, pinching the bridge of your nose “But they’re coming and I still have to buy those damn eggs, and bake this damn cake, and wash this damn—”

“Hey, hey” He shushed you, holding both of your shoulders to prompt you to look into his eyes. They held a thousand million stars… But that wasn’t really the point “Everything’s good, okay? Why don’t we go to buy some eggs, then you go and bake your cake?” He suggested calmly, massaging your skin as he smiled reassuringly “I can take care of your laundry… Mine is here anyway” He chuckled, seeing the way your eyes lit up to his plan “I can get it to your house before they get there… They’ll never know” He promised.

“No way” You chirped; hands jolting to his face and grabbing his cheeks firmly “Jeongin” You said seriously; eyes unwavering as you stared right into his “You’re my hero” You stated matter-of-factly, enticing a wide grin from him “I owe you my life, I mean it” You concluded, quickly letting go of his face.

What were you doing?!

“Ask me on a date and we’re even” He joked.

“Don’t be silly” You rolled your eyes, pretending not to be affected by his friendly banter.

“Fair enough… So go out with me on a date and we’re even” He smirked; eyes glinting amusedly as you let your mouth fall agape to his request. You took a while to react properly, and the growing silence seemed to get into Jeongin’s head, “I mean… I’d like to if that’s okay with you…” He shrugged, gulping down nervously “I’ve been wanting to… I was going to ask… I was just waiting for…” He floundered, clearing his throat to make it less obvious.

“Well, if it makes us even…” You fought back your smile, watching as his anxiety dissolved into relief before he beamed at you “I guess I’d love to go on a date with you...” He laughed wholeheartedly, taking your hands in his “What about next week?” You suggested coyly, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

“What about now?” He grinned like a fox.

“Have you listened to what I said before?” You chortled “I have to buy some eggs and –” You began to enumerate on your fingers, but he giggled playfully, interrupting you.

“You know what’s funny?” He smirked “My dream was to buy some eggs with you as a first date… I don’t think we’ll ever get this chance again” The corner of his lips twitched; dimples showing as he looked fondly at you “Shall we?” He asked in mocking politeness, extending his arm for you to take.

“I must say you have such a weird taste…” You hummed, studying his extended arm amusedly “But you’re cute, so it’s all forgiven” You shrugged, chuckling as he locked his arm with yours and took the lead to find a grocery store nearby.

#skz fanfics #skz x reader #skz fluff #kpopcatalog #districtninewriters #stray kids fanfics #jeongin x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #jeongin fanfic #jeongin fluff #jeongin imagines #jeongin scenarios

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lovelylogans · 4 years ago

Text

the words you read (my heart’s been displayed)

how did you know 'cause I never told but you found out I've got a crush on you the words you read, my heart's been displayed you found out I've got a crush on you —“crush on you,” the jets

warnings: awkward clueless teenagers, crushes, slightly overbearing matchmaking uncles, mentions of government surveillance, mostly fluff, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan, secondary patton/roman and janus/remus

word count: 5,761

notes: this is for day 5 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “vocab card/skateboard” and i have decided to write about vocab card! please enjoy!

⁂

In Virgil’s opinion, Logan Sanders is the cutest boy in all of the sophomore grade.

He was the cutest boy in freshman year, too, and eighth grade, and seventh, and all the way back to kindergarten, but Logan’s changed over the summer.

He’s sprouted up a few inches, so now he’s a half-head taller than Virgil. He still looks a little gangly, like he’s going to grow more. He’d always been shorter than Virgil before. He’d gotten new glasses, too, black frames that suit him way better than the silver ovals he’d used when they were little. His voice has gotten a bit deeper, his jawline’s gotten stronger, and Virgil’s helpless crush on him has only grown with Logan.

Logan isn’t just cute, either, he’s smart. He carries around stacks of notecards, blank and filled in, and there’s all sorts of things written on it—interesting fun facts and the latest slang terms, in rubber-banded stacks next to rubber-banded stacks of notecards of terms that will be on their next exam. Logan has a way of explaining anything and everything in a way that is really understandable and never makes you feel dumb. Logan’s always top of the class.

And to make matters worse, they’re next-door-locker-neighbors this year, because Chloe-who-was-between-them-alphabetically moved away. Which means that Virgil cannot quite get away with admiring Logan from afar, the way he has since they were little. Which means that when school starts, on the first day when Logan asks him what homeroom he’s in this year, Virgil’s brain can only go ahhhhHHHHHH and the fact that oh my God Logan is tall now oh my GOD Logan has the locker next to mine now! makes him delay his answer because he’s just staring at Logan, and Logan looks at him a little oddly and then repeats his question as if he thinks Virgil didn’t hear him, and Virgil kind of wants to crawl into his locker to hide there forever thanks.

“Oh,” he manages. He closes his locker. “Um. I’m in Mr. Morales’ homeroom this year.”

Logan smiles at him. Logan SMILES AT HIM. And then he says, “I am, as well. Perhaps we’ll be seated next to each other in homeroom, in addition to being locker neighbors. I would enjoy that.”

He would ENJOY THAT!!!!!

Logan clears his throat and fiddles with his glasses, finally just pushing them a little further up his nose, even though they’re pretty high up on his nose already. “Would you like to walk together to Mr. Morales’ classroom? I was in his home economics class last year, I know where it is.”

“Um, sure,” Virgil says, voice cracking embarrassingly, and he considers opening his locker back up again so that he can hide there. He’s pretty skinny, he might be able to fit.

So they walk to Mr. Morales’ classroom. Logan’s the one talking, mostly; Virgil’s grateful for that, because he’d probably just be rambling nervously the whole time, and it’d be tempting fate to have his voice crack in front of Logan again. But now he can just listen to Logan’s various opinions about their summer reading for their English class, which is much safer. He sure has a lot of opinions about it, which makes Virgil sweat a little nervously—Logan sounds like he’s ready to sit down and write an essay about it, as if they’re going to have to, and Virgil’s pretty sure that if he sat down to take a multiple-choice quiz about that book right now he’d flunk it.

They end up not being assigned to sit next to each other. Mr. Morales says to just sit wherever, since they’re all going to go to an assembly once he takes attendance anyways, and that he probably won’t assign seats for the whole year.

And then Logan ends up sitting next to him anyways.

Like he really meant that he’d like to be next to Virgil in homeroom.

Mr. Morales smiles at them, and then, inexplicably, gives Logan a double thumbs up? And then Logan’s cheeks go kind of red? Logan turns his face away from Mr. Morales, turning to more fully face Virgil.

“You were in his class last year, right?” Virgil says.

“Erm, yeah. Yes. I was.” Logan clears his throat, turning away from him. “He supervises my study hall, too.” Then he mumbles, “also he’s my uncle.”

“He’s your uncle?” Virgil repeats. This is news to him.

“Through marriage,” Logan explains. “Mr. Regnant is my father’s brother.”

Mr. Regnant is the arts-and-music teacher, and, though they don’t talk about it very much (students do, but then, students always gossip), Mr. Morales’ husband.

Mr. Regnant is also, not that Virgil would ever tell him so, Virgil’s favorite teacher.

“Which dad?” Virgil says, because Logan’s two dads were basically his only version of real-life gay representation when they were really little. He knows Mr. Sanders better than Logan’s other dad.

Mr. Sanders always volunteered to be part of the PTA moms who supervised them during holiday parties and field trips, though, looking back, he doesn’t think the PTA moms liked him very much. The kids, on the other hand, loved Mr. Sanders, who would treat them like very short adults and once a year would bring in his mamba Eve for kids to pet and hold.

Logan’s other Dad had been the one who encouraged the kids to throw paints and roll around in the mud and tear things up. Logan’s other Dad had come to supervise one holiday party and was politely asked to never do so again.

“Not Pa—I mean, Janus,” Logan says, looking briefly embarrassed. “He’s Dad’s—Remus’—twin brother.”

Virgil makes an “ohhh” sound, because that makes sense. Now he’s thinking about it, Mr. Regnant and Logan’s dad really do look alike, if one looked past their contrasting senses of style.

“That’s cool, though,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “That you’re related, I mean. Mr. Morales is really nice.”

“Yes, he is,” Logan says. “It’s been a bit strange to adjust to calling him Mr. Morales instead of Uncle Patton, though.”

“Yeah, I guess it probably would be,” Virgil says.

The bell rings, and Mr. Morales ushers them off to the assembly.

Logan sits down next to him on the bleachers at the assembly, too. Their knees bump together as they listen to the principal welcome them back from summer vacation and give some announcements.

And Logan keeps sitting down next to him.

At lunch, in their two shared classes, in homeroom. He wishes Virgil a good morning and good afternoon every day at their locker. As the months of the school year slowly creep by, Virgil definitely does kind of feel like crawling into his locker, sometimes, but less and less so, because.

Because he and Logan are kind of friends now.

Logan asks him about his favorite hot beverage and then starts bringing him chai when he and his uncles stop by a café before school. Virgil sketches out drawings of astronauts and space when Logan goes on a loving tirade about it that lasts, on-and-off, for a week.

He still definitely has a crush on Logan. His increased presence near him is both a blessing and a curse.

They share earbuds and laugh at videos in homeroom, they sit quietly side-by-side and do their homework together in study hall. Virgil even tags along, sometimes, when Logan takes time out of his day to visit his uncles. His uncles always seem delighted whenever Virgil drops by, which Virgil guesses makes sense—Mr. Morales is just kind of Like That, and he’s been taking classes with Mr. Regnant since freshman year, and they’ve been sassing at each other for just about as long.

Logan makes those visits rare, though. He always seems a little self-conscious about how excited his uncles are during their visits, the way they elbow Logan and give him thumbs-ups and wiggle their eyebrows. Virgil doesn’t really get it—he thinks it’s nice that his uncles are so excited to see Logan with his friend.

But then his mom unexpectedly comes by and drops off his lunch and ruffles Virgil’s hair right in front of Logan, and Virgil spends the rest of the day going beet red even Logan assures him that it’s okay and he thinks it’s nice, something in his brain... clicks. A little bit. Even though it doesn’t make sense.

Does Logan...?

No, his brain tells him. There’s no way.

But Virgil keeps an eye out for the next week anyways.

On Monday, Logan’s uncles give him a ride to school and also drive him by the café, so Logan hands over a chai for Virgil. Virgil smiles and thanks him.

Have Logan’s ears always gone red whenever Virgil thanks him for bringing him tea?

On Tuesday, their fingers brush when Logan’s passing over a stack of notecards for Virgil to study for an upcoming exam during their study hall. Simultaneously, they look away from each other, redirecting their attention to their textbooks.

Have they always done that?

On Wednesday, Logan and Virgil swing by Mr. Morales’ classroom. After Virgil laughs at a somewhat sarcastic comment that Logan says, and redirects his attention to the sketch he’s been doing to turn in for approval for his end-of-semester art project, he peeks through his bangs to see Mr. Morales waving his hands eagerly, and Logan go red and gesture sharply for him to stop.

Has Mr. Morales always been so excited whenever he and Logan spend time in his classroom?

On Thursday, Logan seems chilled by the overenthusiastic air conditioning, so Virgil gives him a spare hoodie he had in his locker. Logan looks at him, looks away, and then proceeds to huddle in Virgil’s hoodie for the rest of the day, even after the school adjusts the temperature and it isn’t quite so cold.

By then, his brain saying no way! No way, you cannot afford to be wrong on this so you aren’t even going to try, there’s no way—

It’s after school on Thursday, and Virgil makes sure Logan has already gone home when he descends the stairs to Mr. Regnant’s art-and-music studio.

“Oh, Virgil, hey,” Mr. Regnant says, distracted, looking up from the sheet music he’s laying out across four desks. “Gimme a second, I’ve got the feedback for your sketch on my desk somewhere—”

Virgil looks to Mr. Regnant’s desk. He can’t even see the mug of pens on his desk that Virgil knows is there, it’s so buried in papers and models and paint palette piles. It’s like an avalanche waiting to happen.

“Uh, that’s not—you can give it to me tomorrow,” Virgil says awkwardly. “Um. That’s not why I’m here.”

Mr. Regnant blinks at him. “All right.”

“I,” he wipes his hands on his jeans and grimaces, not quite believing that he’s about to do this. “I need advice.”

Mr. Regnant pauses, before he manages to find an empty desk and sets down the sheet music. “Okay.”

“Before I say anything,” he says. “I need you to give me this advice as Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Regnant says. “Yeah, ‘course, Virgil. I’m always—”

“Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club, is a separate person from Mr. Regnant, Logan’s Uncle Roman,” Virgil interrupts, twisting his fingers together anxiously. “Right?”

Mr. Regnant opens his mouth. Closes it. He gestures for Virgil to sit on one of the choir risers, settling there himself, but Virgil sits on the floor. This is a time in which floor-sitting is necessary.

“He could be,” Mr. Regnant says eventually.

“Well I need him to be,” Virgil snaps. “Okay?”

Mr. Regnant presses his lips together and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little higher pitched. His lips twitch and he clears his throat. “Yeah! Yeah.”

“Oh my God, you’re about to laugh at me,” Virgil says, horrified. “I knew this was a terrible idea, forget it—”

“No!” Mr. Regnant says hastily. “No I’m not, no I’m not. I swear I’m not. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is not about to laugh.”

“Is Mr. Regnant Logan’s uncle about to laugh?!”

“I thought they were different people,” Mr. Regnant sasses back, seemingly on instinct, and Virgil buries his face in his hands and screams a little bit. Just a little bit.

“Shi—shoot, I mean shoot!” He says, and tugs lightly at Virgil’s arm. Virgil peeks at Mr. Regnant from between his fingers.

Mr. Regnant’s face is very serious. There is no more sign of lip-twitching, throat-clearing, or mirth in his eyes.

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is here and listening,” he says. “Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any relatives to speak of. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any twin brothers or nephews. What on earth even are those? Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA would have no idea. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA doesn’t even have parents, or a husband, that’s how absolutely relative-less he is. Okay?”

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is an asshole,” Virgil mutters.

“Faculty supervisor of the GSA is starting to not sound like words anymore,” Mr. Regnant says, “also, you are so lucky school is technically over, otherwise I would have totally given you a detention for language.”

“You’re such a hypocrite, you literally just almost swore.”

“Almost,” Mr. Regnant says, “is not the same as did. Now. What can I do for you, Virgil?”

Virgil takes a deep breath in.

“What do you do if you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

Mr. Regnant’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, but otherwise, he doesn’t react.

“You could talk to him?”

“Okay, maybe I should be more specific,” Virgil says, “What do you do if you have an anxiety disorder, and you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

“I know you’re not gonna like this,” Mr. Regnant says, “but my answer is still you could talk to him.”

He holds up a hand before Virgil can protest. “I know it can be scary, I know it can be anxiety-inducing. I know that can be a deterrent for a perfectly neurotypical person, let alone someone who’s got a diagnosed anxiety disorder. But, I mean. Your only options, as I see them, are, A, tell him, or B, sit quietly and wait for him to maybe make the first move.”

“But how can I be sure?” He says.

“Well, why do you think he likes you back?” Mr. Regnant says reasonably.

So Virgil tells him. Virgil tells him all about it—thinking he was cute since they were kids, then suddenly becoming friends this year: the chai, the sketches, the music listening, the blushing and the awkward chats, and how they’re friends now but Virgil still really likes him in a romantic way.

“Does that sound like he likes me back?” he asks anxiously.

Mr. Regnant bites his lip. “As the faculty supervisor of the GSA? I think it could definitely be likely.”

“Likely?” Virgil wails.

“Well, as the faculty supervisor of the GSA,” Mr. Regnant enunciates carefully, “I can’t be certain.”

“I can’t go and tell him based on if it’s just likely! I need to be sure he likes me back or else there’s a chance he says he doesn’t like me and then I’m going to have a heart attack and die!”

“Virgil! As the faculty supervisor of the GSA! I really think you should go for it!”

Mr. Regnant looks like he’s about to reach out and start shaking Virgil by the shoulders. His eyes are huge, the way he always looks at actors onstage who have forgotten their lines, like by just staring at them he’ll be able to psychically impart the script to them.

“Forget it,” Virgil groans and reaches for his backpack, swinging it over his shoulders and standing up. “I’m doomed to suffer in silence. Thanks, I guess, I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Please don’t tell anyone I told you all this.”

As Virgil is closing the classroom door behind him, he’s pretty sure he hears Mr. Regnant screeching.

Honestly, Virgil should be the one screeching. He can’t believe he just told him all that—who knows if Mr. Regnant will be able to keep the information of a crush concerning his nephew to himself?!

⁂

“Okay, here’s your mocha-with-extra-espresso, please don’t tell your Dads,” Uncle Patton says cheerfully, passing back a to-go cup to Logan. “And the chai! I think it’s very sweet that you keep getting this for him, kiddo.”

“Gestures are a good way to express affection,” Logan says anxiously, carefully setting the chai in a cupholder. “I’ve been trying to vary my approaches based off the five love languages. I’m not sure if it’s working.”

Uncle Roman in the passenger seat, his arm thrown over his eyes, makes a sound of great discontent, the way he’s been doing for the past week whenever Uncle Patton has tried to give him any advice concerning Virgil.

“Are you okay, Uncle Roman?” Logan asks again.

“Thinking about being the faculty supervisor to the GSA,” Uncle Roman moans, as if in pain.

“Is the club schedule about to be particularly busy?” Logan asks, frowning. “You typically enjoy your work with the GSA.”

“You could say that,” Uncle Roman says tightly, then groans again.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do personally, in order to relieve any undue stress,” Logan begins, but is cut off by Uncle Roman shrieking.

“Um,” Logan says, looking to Uncle Patton, who snorts, shaking his head.

“He just, um,” Uncle Patton says. “Well, I think something’s happened, except he told me he can’t tell me what it is without betraying someone’s trust, so.”

“I see,” Logan says, frowning, except for the part where he doesn’t see, really. But that happens fairly frequently with Papa and Dad. Honestly, it’s rather curious that Uncle Roman has not acted in a way that seems strange to outsiders. Dad does it all the time, and they’re twins.

Oh, well. He’s sure he’ll understand eventually.

“I’m fine,” Uncle Roman says, and he sniffs loudly. “I’m fine, it’s all—fine.”

Uncle Patton pats his hand sympathetically, before directing their car to school.

Logan sips his drink, before he says idly, “I think I’m going to tell him I’ve had a crush him today.”

Uncle Roman immediately spews coffee onto the windshield in an impressive spit-take. It is hilarious. Even though Uncle Roman is choking a little.

Uncle Patton meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, his eyes bright with excitement. “Really?!”

“Really,” Logan confirms. “I mean, it’s been—it’s been a couple months. We are friendly enough. I do not think that Virgil will discard our friendship if I confess that I have had a crush on him since last year.”

“Well!” Uncle Patton says, so flustered that he accidentally turns on the windshield wipers when he means to signal a turn, and then when he tries to fix that he turns on his hazard lights, before he manages to get the car under control again. “Well, that’s great, kiddo! I’m so excited for you!”

“You are the smartest kid I know,” Uncle Roman says, turning in his seat to face Logan, his expression near-worshipful. “I love you.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“I know you don’t believe in psychics, but are you—?”

“Why are you bringing up psychics?” Logan says, perplexed. “I figured—well, I’ll tell him. And it is time that the Halloween festival will begin this weekend. That seems like a date that Virgil would enjoy.”

“Right,” Uncle Roman says. “Okay. Well—go for it! Please go for it!”

“I have already told you I will,” he says.

“I think it’s gonna go great if you go for it!”

Strange. Uncle Roman is acting as if he has had too much caffeine. As far as Logan is aware, the beverage they have just stopped to get is his first coffee of the day, and he does not metabolize the effects of coffee that quickly.

“Right,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of his coffee. Then, “Right.”

Then, “What if he says he doesn’t like me back?”

Uncle Roman throws his arm across his eyes and makes that same groaning sound again.

Uncle Patton absentmindedly reaches over and bracingly rubs Uncle Roman’s thigh, again meeting Logan’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Well, kiddo, if he says he doesn’t like you back,” he says, then frowns. “It’s understandable to be disappointed, or a little bit upset, but it’s important to accept his answer graciously and kindly. No means no. No is a full sentence. But Virgil seems like a very nice boy, I can’t imagine he’ll be very mean about it at all, and you two have gotten close over the past few months. It might be kind of awkward for a bit, but with a little work, your friendship will be able to survive it.”

“I suppose,” Logan says quietly, looking down at his lap.

“But,” Uncle Patton adds hastily, “I think the chances are really good for him saying yes to the date! We both do, don’t we, Roman?”

Uncle Roman lets out a very strangled “mm-hmm.”

Logan chews his lip, before he says timidly, “Can I borrow one of your phones to call my Dads?”

“Cupholder, just a bit in front of ya,” Patton says cheerfully. “You already know the password.”

Logan does. He swipes it in—his uncles’ wedding date—and presses on Papa’s contact number. Dad’s phone is lost more often than not, and almost always turns up in strange places, like inside the gateau he’d tried to make, or inside the neighbor’s rain gutters.

His father picks it up almost immediately.

“Patton, if this is about the adopt-a-thon, if I have told you once I have told you a thousand times—”

“Um, hi, Papa,” Logan says awkwardly; he does not want to get into the family squabble about sharing a pet between their households again. Eve is a sufficient pet, even if she’s not as cuddly as Uncle Patton might like.

His father’s voice transforms from chiding to concerned in a second. “Logan, is everything all right?”

“Yes, everyone is operating under adequate parameters,” Logan says. “Is Dad there?”

There’s the sound of something crashing in the background, as if on cue. Knowing Dad, it might have been.

“I’ll get him,” Papa says wearily.

He hears his Papa say Remus, our son is on the phone, please put down the—Uh, Jan, sexy-pie! I thought you were! On the way to work!—what the—REMUS, we’ve TALKED about this, how did you lay hands on a HERON—and then the conversation gets a good deal more muffled. He is pretty sure that Papa is shouting at Dad about capturing local wildlife again.

He waits patiently, before he hears the clatter of the phone being passed into someone’s hands, and Dad asks, “Did someone die?! Do you need help covering up a murder?!”

“Remus, please,” Papa groans, “the boy is too smart to implicate himself by opening the opportunity to be recorded over the phone lines.”

“That’s right, Logie-bear, the government is always watching,” Dad says solemnly. “Big brother, all hail. Also lean over and give my little brother a wet-willie for me, it’d be so funny—”

Logan, accustomed to conversations of this tone since birth, continues stolidly onward. “I’m going to tell Virgil I like him today.”

“Finally!” Dad hoots.

“That’s excellent, Logan,” Papa says placidly. “Please know that I am fully aware of the misogynistic roots of the what are your intentions discussion, and I’ve been doing research in order to make our version as feminist as possible. Also, your father has been warned to discuss minimal amounts of gore when he comes to our home.”

“What is the point of a shovel talk then!”

“We already agreed no shovel talk,” Papa says irritably. “When we threaten the boy, we’ll do it subtly.”

“Please don’t threaten him,” Logan says anxiously. “I don’t even know if he likes me back yet.”

“Of course he likes you back!” Dad says, outraged on his behalf. “Why the hell wouldn’t he like you back?!”

“How did you two know that you loved each other?” Logan asks. The question feels slightly childish, and he feels even more so when he curls up in his car seat, but he cannot deny the posture brings a certain level of comfort.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Papa says.

“I’m sixteen in a matter of weeks!”

Dad makes an absurd gagging noise, because he is ridiculously averse to the concept of Logan (and therefore, himself and Papa) aging. Logan thinks that it might have to do with a latent existential crisis, but he has not asked, because knowing Dad, he will spin it out into thirteen separate absurd reasons, and ten of them will make Logan cringe away, repulsed.

“Trust my judgment on this,” Papa says. “You do not want to know the origins of how our romance developed. However, when we actually had the discussion concerning feelings, your father—”

“I wrote him a beautiful letter in my best calligraphy,” Dad says proudly, then, “You probably don’t want to hear about the ink, do you?”

“Is it disgusting?” Logan asks warily.

“Quite, but,” then, in a voice that literally every other person wouldn’t realize is Papa’s version of profound sappiness, “that’s your father.”

There is the sound of kissing. Logan resists the urge to make a gagging noise of his own, because somehow, he is the mature one in the entire family.

“As it is, just,” Papa says, then sighs. “I cannot believe I am about to give such... Pattonish advice. But. As it is, just be yourself. If this boy likes you back—”

“—as he should, and if he doesn’t he’s in desperate need of a lobotomy,” Dad mutters.

“—then he will like you for you, just the way you are,” Papa says, as if Dad had not said anything remotely worrying. “Tap into your strengths, Logan. You are intelligent, and observant, and thoughtful—”

“—and the best son there is—”

“Well, that goes without saying, clearly,” Papa says. “As long as your confession comes from you, then there is no way that it can go wrong. You are simply too excellent a person for it not to.”

“Even if it turns out he doesn’t like me?” Logan says timidly.

“If it does, then have your uncle forge an excuse note for you to get out of school early today and we’ll plot accordingly,” Papa says evasively. “But I do not think that outcome likely.”

Logan chews his lip. Papa is the best liar he knows, but—

But hearing his encouragement is too comforting to really analyze if he is lying.

“Thanks, Dads.”

“Knock him dead, kid!” Dad shouts. “And if he doesn’t then I will!”

“What did we just say about discussing potential evidence over the phone lines,” Papa scolds, and Logan hangs up, smiling.

Just be yourself.

Uncle Pattonish advice it may be, it has given him an idea.

⁂

Waiting over this past week to see if Mr. Regnant will crack and spill to Mr. Morales, or even worse, Logan himself, has been absolutely agonizing and Virgil’s kicking himself over going to Mr. Regnant for advice surrounding Logan at all.

That morning, though, Mr. Morales is at his desk, and a chai is waiting for Virgil at their usual spot, but Logan is nowhere to be seen. Virgil tries his hardest not to act too much like he’s keeping an eye out for Logan, but he is pretty sure he’s not succeeding, because Mr. Morales is smiling at him way too wide.

He actually seems really excited about something. Like, Mr. Morales usually gets excited when it’s fresh chocolate chip cookie day at lunch, but this is beyond the pale for fresh chocolate chip cookie day. Maybe the assembly they have today is something special? Except Virgil’s pretty sure it’s to pass out honors for the last quarter and talk about fall sports. That’s nothing particularly special.

Logan slides into his seat just before the bell rings, though, wrapping a rubber band around one of his notecard stacks. It’s a thin stack, it must be for something that’s just started; usually Logan compiles every unit of every class into thick stacks, able to be differentiated by the different colors of the notecards. These are just basic white ones.

He fiddles with it, darting looks to Virgil as Patton takes attendance, and, as they’re all filing out of the door, Logan holds out the stack of notecards.

“Here,” he blurts out.

Virgil blinks. “I don’t think we have a test soon?”

“They’re not for a test,” Logan says. “Just—take them. Read them during assembly. Please,” he adds belatedly.

“Uh,” Virgil says and takes them. “Okay?”

“Okay!” Logan says and nods. “Okay. Okay. Great! Um—please take your time to consider them carefully, and I await your response,” and then he practically runs off to fall into line near Mr. Regnant.

So that’s... weird.

But Virgil sticks the notecards into his hoodie pocket, anyways, ready to read them during assembly like Logan directed.

He waits until the principal is droning on about the importance of school spirit to take the notecards out of his pocket.

He spares a glance for Logan—who is several rows ahead, near the faculty, sitting next to Mr. Morales and Mr. Regnant, Mr. Morales occasionally reaching over to rub Logan’s shoulder bracingly—and then angles the notecards so that a teacher looking into the crowd wouldn’t really be able to see them.

He stares at the title on the top notecard. Blinks hard. Blinks again. Looks down at Logan’s back, then back to the notecard.

Reasons why I have a crush on Virgil.

He reaches over to pinch himself. Nope. Not dreaming, then.

And Logan really doesn’t seem like the type of person to make a joke like this.

He flips the cards and reads them slowly, savoring each and every word written in Logan’s blocky, neat script.

He is exceptionally witty.

He is knowledgeable about a great many things, such as music, art, spiders, novels, and mental health issues.

He is sarcastic.

He is thoughtful and deliberate in the formation of his opinions, even ones as small as the proper preparation of chai.

He is very handsome.

He is never rude without reason, and when he is rude, it is usually because the other person is “an asshole” and should be receiving backlash.

He is a remarkably talented artist.

Virgil keeps reading on, he is, he is, he is...

When he gets to the end—I would like to take you on a date. I would also like to be boyfriends, though I understand if you would like to table that conversation until we have established a rapport. Please let me know if you would be amenable to that suggestion.—he feels kind of dizzy. His throat is tight, his heart is pounding, and his hands are so sweaty he’s had to wipe them off on his jeans twice already.

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would think of him so highly?

It’s like he’s describing someone entirely different—awkward, anxious Virgil couldn’t possibly be the snarky, witty, caring, deep-thinking guy that Logan’s writing about. There’s just no way. But, Virgil thinks, heart twisting, but Logan doesn’t lie about things like this. Is this the way Logan sees him?

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would have a crush on him at all?

He likes Virgil. He wants to take Virgil on a date. He wants Virgil to be his boyfriend.

There’s the rumbling of everyone standing up from the bleachers, and Virgil jumps—has it really been the entire assembly?—and hastily gets to his feet, so he won’t get swept up in the crowd of students returning to their classrooms.

As he’s heading for the door, Logan practically materializes in front of him, hugging his books tightly to his chest.

“Did you read them?” He asks fretfully. Now that Virgil’s close to him, face-to-face, he isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Logan so nervous. He isn’t sure if he’s seen Logan nervous at all. Logan’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, drumming his fingers on his books, holding the books like they’re a teddy bear.

“Do you,” Virgil says, his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “You really like me?”

“Since last year,” Logan admits.

“I’ve liked you since kindergarten,” Virgil blurts out.

Logan blinks at him, jaw dropping. Then he says, “Really?!”

“Really,” Virgil promises. “My mom has this journal entry saved where I kept writing about how I was going to be Mr. Virgil Sanders, oh my God, she’s going to be so embarrassing about this—”

Logan snorts, ducking his head. “You’ve withstood my uncles handily.”

“Your uncles are cool, though,” Virgil says, confused.

“My uncles are embarrassing,” Logan says, “and my Dads are going to be so weird, I’m very sorry in advance, but—but if you can handle all of that, then I’d—I’d really like to take you out to the Halloween festival. I’d really really like that.”

Virgil’s smiling so wide that it hurts his face. “I’d really really like that too.”

And then the bell rings, and the pair of them jump at the sudden loud noise.

“I—we have to go to class,” Logan says, sounding very put out.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, then, “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Logan beams at him. “Lunch sounds wonderful.”

Virgil hesitates, before he reaches out and places a hand on Logan’s shoulder. He leans in and presses his lips to Logan’s cheek.

Logan’s bright red when he pulls away.

“Lunch?” Virgil confirms.

“Lunch,” Logan squeaks out, his voice cracking.

They emerge from under the bleachers, and have to split ways. Even when Mr. Regnant pulls him out into the hall under the guise of talking about his project and starts whisper-shouting about “do you know how HARD IT WAS to keep QUIET when i KNEW all along that you both LIKED each other bacK,” even when Mr. Morales ducks his head into his math class to pass over papers and gives Virgil some super-obvious thumbs up, even after he texts his Mom and his mom sends him screenfuls of exclamation points and immediately asks him to invite Logan over so that she can show Logan all of Virgil’s baby pictures—

Virgil cannot stop smiling.

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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