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helloalycia · 4 months

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𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

summary: when Jackie surprises you with a kiss, you're excited at the possibility of what it could mean, only to discover she's got back together with her boyfriend the next day.

warning/s: implied internalised homophobia i suppose?

author's note: and here’s the third and final part - i hope you liked this one, loved writing for jackie 🥰 i have amother jackie one done and another in the works bc apparently i was super inspired recently lol, and i’ve also got some other stuff in progress. But the next thing I post is gonna be an alycia debnam carey imagine (gotta stick to my roots haha)

one / two / masterlist / wattpad

I groaned inwardly as I looked all around the darkroom, my locker and my school bag for my lens cap, but I just couldn't seem to find it. That's when I wondered if it could be in the bleachers on the soccer pitch – maybe it fell out of my pocket when I was shooting recently.

Like the lazy girl I was, I went outside with tunnel vision, immediately searching the bleachers for my lens cap, but I still couldn't find it. As I paused, looking up for a moment to think, I realised someone was on the pitch, and upon closer inspection at the waving figure, I realised it was Jackie. Huh.

When I climbed down from the bleachers, she jogged over to me with a confused expression, but smiling nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, a little sweaty from practice, and it was annoying because she still managed to look good.

"I lost my lens cap for my camera," I said with a sigh. "The last place I remember having it is here."

Her fingers played with her bottom lip as she glanced around. "Oh. That's annoying. Erm..."

"It's fine," I said, not wanting her to worry herself over it when it was my problem. "I'm just having a look around, but I don't think it's here. Might pick up a new one from the camera store. Anyway, what are you doing out here? Where's the team?"

At this, she rested her hands on her hips. "No practice on today, but I wanted to have some me time. Thought I'd put in some extra practice. I've finished now anyway."

I quirked a brow. "Isn't Shauna usually your lift? How you getting home?"

"Shauna is helping her parents with something," she said, before flashing me her signature smirk. "I was planning to flirt with some sophomores and get a ride."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Of course you were."

She winked playfully and, though I didn't doubt she could find some desperate sophomore to give her a ride, I couldn't just let her do that. Besides, it seemed she was getting lifts off me a lot lately, so what was one more to add to the list?

"I'm done in the dark room if you need a ride," I offered.

"Oh, I wasn't hinting at anything," she said, giving me a genuine smile, but I shook my head.

"I know, but still. I don't mind."

Appreciative, she nodded. "Thanks. Do I have time to shower?"

"You have all the time in world, darling," I said as I looked around. "I am still yet to find my lens cap."

She stifled a chuckle. "Good luck with that. I'll go clean up. Meet you at your car?"

I hummed in agreement, already mentally retracing my steps with my camera, and she left me to it. After spending half an hour more searching all around for my lens cap, I finally gave up and went to sulk in my car. It wasn't actually a big deal, especially because I could just buy a new one after dropping Jackie off, but it was the inconvenience of it all.

Not long after I got in my car, Jackie joined me, tossing her backpack in the backseat before sliding into the passenger's seat. Looking refreshed, she shot me a smile.

"So, where to?" she asked, pulling her seatbelt on.

"Your house?" I replied, thinking it was obvious.

"But I thought you wanted to get your lens cap from the store," she said with confusion. "Oh, wait, did you find it?"

As I started the car, I said, "I didn't, but it's fine. I can drop you off home."

"I don't mind going," she said, leaning her elbow on the door. "It's on the way anyway."

"You sure?"

She hummed in agreement, so I drove us straight to the camera store, knowing I wouldn't be long. Luckily, it was still open for the day, and when we headed inside, she immediately began to wander around the small store, intrigued by the cameras on display.

I began to talk to the shopkeeper about my lens size and what camera I had, hoping he had a replacement cap I could buy, and then he left to have a look in the back.

"Y/N, there's a photo booth!" Jackie suddenly called as I was waiting for the shopkeeper to return.

"Yep," I acknowledged, having seen it a million times so not sure what the hype was.

"We have to use it, c'mon!" she pleaded, already grabbing my hand.

I rolled my eyes, having gotten used to Jackie so much that I knew to just go with the flow at this point. She was grinning as she looked at the button and money slot.

"It's fifty cents," she realised, before elbowing me in the gut as she rushed to find some coins in her pocket. Eventually she pulled out a quarter and looked at me. "You got another quarter?"

"I guess? I don't–"

"Look!" she encouraged, and I grumbled to myself as I dug around in my own pocket, managing to pull out a quarter. Before I could even offer it her, she grabbed it from my hand and put both of them in the machine.

After fiddling around, a manual timer ticked to signal the first photo was going to be taken, so Jackie moved closer to me to fit in the lens.

"Smile!" she said, and I had no choice but to listen.

The photo was taken and, just as quickly, the next timer was going off.

"Funny face!" she instructed immediately, before pulling one of her own.

I rushed to stick out my tongue, managing to do bunny ears behind her head without realising, and then the final timer was ticking.

"Okay, a kiss on the cheek for the grand finale," she said with amusement, and because we'd been so rushed up until now, I didn't really think to question who was kissing who.

As the last tick went off before the photo, I turned to kiss her cheek, but she must have done the same, because for a brief moment, our lips touched and then the photo was taken. Embarrassed, I quickly pulled away, as did she.

"Sorry," we both blurted at the same time, and suddenly this photo booth felt too small.

"Y/N?" the shopkeeper called, and I was grateful for the interruption as I stepped out the photo booth and saw he was back at the counter. "Got your lens cap. This should fit like a glove."

I swallowed thickly as I approached the counter, acutely aware of Jackie stood behind me, looking as awkward as I felt. After paying the shopkeeper, the two of us left and returned to the car.

"Er, did you want the photos or–" Jackie started to ask when we got in the car, holding the strip that the machine gave her.

"It's okay, you really wanted them," I said quickly, before distracting myself with starting the car.

To say the car ride home was awkward was an understatement, even with the radio filling the silence. I wasn't sure why, since we both knew the poor attempt of a kiss was an accident, but my fear was that I'd made her feel uncomfortable. It was the last thing I'd wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to speak, and neither could she.

I barely got chance to put my parking brake on when she got out the car and avoided my eyes.

"Thanks for the ride," she muttered, before walking up the long path to her mansion of a home.

I would have left it there, but it felt wrong to, and then I noticed she'd left her backpack in the backseat, so I called her from the open window and grabbed the bag. Jumping out the car, I jogged to meet her halfway, glad she'd stopped.

"You forgot your bag," I said, holding it out to her, and she accepted it, expressionless but staring holes into my face.

Knowing I couldn't leave it like this, I started, "Jackie, what's–"

But she cut me off instantly – and to my surprise – with a kiss. I stumbled back as she grabbed my face, kissing me with such intensity that it took me a second to realise that Jackie fucking Taylor was kissing me. And she was really good at it.

I closed my eyes, reciprocating the kiss, breathing in every part of her floral perfume, tasting every bit of her strawberry lipgloss. There was a second where we paused to take in a breath, but she closed it just as quickly, desperate and sudden and surprising.

Finally she pulled back, and then as if realising what she'd done, her hands let go of my face and she avoided eye contact like I'd make her go blind.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, before spinning around and speed walking to her front door.

"Wait, Jackie–!"

But she fumbled for her keys and was already at her front door, not bothering to turn around. I swallowed hard, my lips still tingling from the sensation of hers, and went back to my car. Did that really just happen?

All night I was thinking about it, replaying the afternoon in my mind. She'd made me question a lot about my feelings for her in the past, and at one point, I was certain I was just projecting onto her – maybe that flirting was just who she was? But no, it had to be real, because she'd just made out with me on her own accord, and I liked it. I'd liked her, sure, but she'd always been unattainable to me for obvious reasons.

Well, until now.

The next day at school, I was hoping I could talk to Jackie about everything properly, maybe get some clarification on what she was thinking. So, you can imagine my surprise when I walked past her in the hall and saw her standing with Jeff, her supposed-to-be ex-boyfriend, leaning on his shoulder as he had an arm wrapped around her.

As soon as I saw them together, my heart dropped, the surprise easily replaced by humiliation. God, how could I have ever thought Jackie Taylor and I could be a thing? Was I stupid?

Turning to walk a different way, I fought back the urge to cry, feeling used and stupid and like an absolute fool for thinking yesterday was anything special.

"Hey, Y/N, wait," Jackie suddenly called, and then she stopped before me with apologetic eyes. "I didn't–"

"So you're back with Jeff, huh?" I got straight to the point, glaring at her.

She avoided my eyes and nodded weakly.

I scoffed, feeling much better hiding behind my anger than my sadness. "Why did you even do it, Jackie? Why d'you kiss me?"

She frowned. "I don't know."

The longer she avoided my stare, the more upset I became. How dare she do all of this, make me fall for her, force herself into my life, only to throw it back in my face.

"Just wanted to test it out?" I muttered bitterly. "Kissing a girl?"

She winced. "No, it wasn't like that."

"Then what?" I asked, searching her expression for a clue, but she refused to answer, either not having the words or not wanting to upset me anymore. Too late for that. "You should figure your shit out," I said harshly. "And don't speak to me again."

Finally, she looked up, but I was already leaving, ignoring when she called my name. I should've known she'd go back to him, she always did.

Fuck Jackie Taylor.

It was impossible to avoid her and Jeff over the next few days, since they were in a lot of my classes and always on the way to my locker, but I tried my darn best to.

Unfortunately for me, I was out grocery shopping with my mum when I spotted a familiar blonde head of hair further down the aisle from us, standing with her best friend. I was hoping if we stayed put long enough, they'd just keep going and we wouldn't bump into them, but my mum, who was oblivious to our falling out, spotted Jackie instantly.

"Oh, Y/N, your friend is here," she pointed out, and before I could tell her to keep it down, she started to call out Jackie's name, earning her attention.

"Mum, no!" I whisper-shouted, but it was too late because Jackie and Shauna were already approaching us.

I considered walking away, finding somewhere else to busy myself, but my mum would have just found a reason to make it a big deal, so I stayed put and kept quiet.

"Hey, Y/M/N," Jackie greeted my mum in her usual chirpy voice, before I felt her looking at me. "Hey, Y/N."

I ignored her, suddenly interested by the handlebar of the trolley.

"Jackie, it's so great to see you again," my mum said, genuinely happy to chat with her, since the soccer player had made quite the impression on her. "And your friend, it's Shauna, right?"

"It is, it's great to meet you," Shauna greeted her kindly before shooting me a smile. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey," I mumbled, giving her a quick smile before looking at the bananas on display.

"You know, it's a good thing I bumped into you," my mum said to them, particularly Jackie. "I wanted to thank you again for your help at the fundraiser! We raised over five thousand dollars!"

"That's amazing," Jackie said with disbelief. "I didn't know."

At this, my mum glanced at me questioningly. "Didn't you tell her, hon?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Must've forgotten."

"Oh, Y/N," my mum scolded lightheartedly as Jackie looked away uncomfortably.

She continued to talk the girls' ears off before finally realising she was holding everyone up and saying her goodbyes. Taking the trolley from me, she began to push it forward and I was about to follow, but Jackie suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Y/N–"

I pulled my arm from her grasp, not bothering to meet her gaze. "Don't you have a soccer game to practice for or something?"

She didn't reply, and I rejoined my mum's side, remaining quiet for the rest of the trip. Why couldn't Jackie just leave me alone?

I was making notes in my English workbook as the teacher continued to explain the variations and development of children's language AKA the topic of our next assignment.

"...and I think that, just like children, students like Jackie Taylor can't seem to focus when they're supposed to be," Mr. Collins suddenly said, pulling me from my focus. "Miss Taylor, is there something particularly fascinating about the back of Miss Y/L/N's head?"

A few students giggled to themselves as I flushed with embarrassment, too afraid to turn around to see what he was talking about, though it was pretty self explanatory.

Jackie cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Of course not, sir. Sorry. Continue."

"Thank you," he said sarcastically, before continuing to read through his presentation, but my face was still flaming and I was unable to focus for the rest of class now, aware of the hazel eyes staring a hole in my back.

God, she was seriously not helping with this whole getting over her thing.

About a week after the whole Jackie thing, I unfortunately couldn't seem to avoid her forever as I had to take photos at the Yellowjackets' away game. I told myself I'd just do my job and be gone to avoid any awkwardness, but of course, that couldn't happen.

The game happened to be at East Rutherford High which wasn't a big deal, but as I was setting up my camera on the side of the pitch before the game, Olivia found me.

"Y/N, hey!" she called, and I turned around before remembering she went here.

"Liv, hey," I said with a smile, before hugging her. "I totally forgot you go here. Big soccer fan?"

She chuckled. "Not really. But my friends are so I said I'd come watch. Don't know why we bother though, the Yellowjackets always kick our arses."

I tried not to laugh because it was true. "Way to support your team."

"As a school, we've kind of accepted our defeat," she joked, before nodding to my camera. "You're taking photos for the paper, right?"

I nodded, letting my camera hang from my neck. "That's right."

"Your photos are always so good," she complimented, and I was surprised she'd seen them, so she clarified, "Sometimes our school paper look at examples of nearby schools and whenever they show us yours, I always see your photographs."

I smiled with embarrassment, though touched that she'd noticed. "Thanks, Liv, that means a lot."

She shrugged. "Just stating the truth." She paused, glancing out at the pitch as the players started to file out. "Surprised your friend, Jackie, isn't here. Didn't think she'd like me talking to you."

At this, I grew embarrassed for a different reason. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry if she was standoffish with you last time. I didn't–"

"I'm teasing," she assured me, trying not to laugh. "But it's all good. I should go find my seat anyway."

I sighed, nodding, and she smiled sweetly at me before leaving. Rubbing my face, I tried to push any thoughts of the soccer captain out of my head, hating that she was still being mentioned even when she wasn't here.

Instead, I focused my efforts on photographing the game, actually quite enjoying that it was an evening match so the lowlight gave me something to practice with. During half time, Olivia stopped by again and I welcomed it, enjoying getting to know her a little more. She was actually really chill to hang out with, but Jackie's words were still in my head about her 'textbook flirting'. Either way, Olivia was fun.

It was a given that the Yellowjackets would win, and after the game ended and I snapped some celebratory pictures, I moved to the side of the pitch to pack up my things. Olivia approached me again and I smiled.

"Great game, huh?" she said with amusement.

"Always is when the Yellowjackets play," I said playfully, and she raised her brows with mock disbelief.

"Wow, you're already starting the soccer war? That's low, Y/N," she said, making me laugh.

"Gotta support the home team," I said with a shrug. "Especially when they're that good."

She rolled her eyes, suppressing her smile. "Yeah, yeah..." As I shouldered my camera bag, she asked, "You heading off now?"

"That's the plan," I said with a tired sigh. "Why? Aren't you?"

She locked eyes with me, smiling softly. "I was going to ask if you're free to hang right now. Could grab some food or something?"

"Oh," I said, realising she was asking me out. "I– erm–"

It sounded fun, and why couldn't I enjoy a dinner with a cute girl? Smile forming on my lips, I was about to agree, but then the devil's spawn herself decided to appear.

"There you are," Jackie said, looking to me, either oblivious to my annoyance or choosing to ignore it.

"Didn't take long," Olivia mumbled to herself, but I heard it. Clearing her throat, she said to me, "I'm gonna guess you're busy tonight?"

"Oh, there's an after game party," Jackie answered for me, making me clench my jaw. "Kind of a tradition."

Olivia forced a smile. "Right."

"I never go anyway," I said quickly, earning her attention, and receiving a glare from Jackie who I so desperately wished would leave. "I can–"

"The others are asking if you'll go tonight actually," Jackie interrupted, flashing a sickly sweet smile at me.

If looks could kill, she'd be toast right now. Who the hell did she think she was to step in right now? She'd shown me how she felt – she didn't have a right to do this.

"Never mind," Olivia said, already backing up. "Enjoy."

Losing my glare, I looked to Olivia, ready to apologise, but she'd already walked off to join her friends and I knew I'd only make it worse.

"Huh, I was right," Jackie mumbled to herself, which reminded me she was still standing there and very much the reason Olivia hated me now.

"What the hell d'you do that for?!" I shouted at her.

She raised her brows, feigning confusion. "Do what?"

I clenched my fists with frustration. "No! You don't just get to do that!"

She shook her head. "What?"

I scowled, looking between her eyes with annoyance. "Care. You led me on. Used me as– I don't even know what! Some sort of rebound? An experiment? Either way, it was horrible, and now you don't get to just come in and stop me from accepting dates. You're nothing to me, Jackie."

As I spoke, she began to frown, only serving to piss me off further. How could she act like the victim right now? I was the one who'd been played!

"I didn't use you," she said weakly, but I could only step back and fix her with a glare.

"Leave me alone," I warned her once more, not bothering to stay behind to see what she'd say.

The weekend passed and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of Jackie the whole time. I wished I'd never found her crying after her breakup with Jeff because then I wouldn't have felt the need to check on her and she wouldn't have felt the need to be my friend. My life was a whole lot easier when she wasn't in it, and yet I still couldn't stop thinking of her. She was bad for me, so why did I still care about her?

I hadn't seen her since the game on Friday night, and despite the fact that she'd literally humiliated me, I still felt guilty for shouting at her. I wasn't someone who got angry easily, but truthfully, it wasn't anger. My heart hurt and who else to take it out on than the girl who broke it?

It was foolish of me to even feel that way, since we weren't anything. She'd never said she cared about me as more than a friend, she hadn't really done anything out of the ordinary except kiss me, which had clearly been a mistake. Her flirtatious behaviour was just typical Jackie. I knew what I was getting myself into. I guess this whole thing was my fault in a way.

Trying to take my mind off it, I stayed back after school to start putting my end of year portfolio together for photography class. I was grateful that nobody else was here, needing the quiet to simply get lost in my school work and nothing else.

I was considering some photographs on the desk when the sound of the door opening startled me. Nobody was supposed to be here, but when I turned around, my surprise faded into irritation at the sight of Jackie.

"Okay, seriously, do you need me to sing it you?" I asked with disbelief. "Write it down? Get a fucking sky writer?! Leave me alone, Jackie!"

"Wait," she said quickly, closing the door behind her and letting herself in, making me groan. "Please, I just– I have something to say."

I rolled my eyes, looking back to my photos with hopes she'd get the hint. "What? You finally figure your shit out?"

It was sarcastic, so I definitely didn't expect her to say, "Yeah. I broke up with Jeff."

My brows knitted together with confusion when I looked to her again. "You what?"

She licked her lips, grateful for the relief in tension. "After the game on Friday. I ended it."

I was certainly shocked to hear that she'd done that, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. Crossing my arms, I tried to appear indifferent. "So what?"

She exhaled softly, steadily approaching me until she was stood right in front of me. Her hazel eyes, looking brown as they met mine, held my gaze with determination.

"You weren't an experiment," she said guiltily. "You weren't a rebound either. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N."

I frowned, eyes flickering between hers. Both my frustration and distress were building up because she seemed to be telling the truth, and it wasn't fair. She still did it. She broke my heart.

"Then what?" I asked, hands trembling. "How else can it seem when you–" I paused, glancing at the classroom door which was closed. Still, I lowered my voice for her sake. "When you kissed me – which, by the way, you initiated – then, before I can even discuss it with you, you get back together with your boyfriend? How?!"

She frowned, shaking her head as she looked down to her hands. "It was horrible, I know. You have to know how much I regret it."

"Gee, thanks," I said bitterly, and she was quick to look up again, worried.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant," she explained. "I regret getting back together with Jeff, not kissing you. I– I liked that a lot." She was unusually nervous, swallowing visibly. "I like you."

My heart was confused as I studied her expression, seeing nothing but honesty.

"I should've said something," she admitted. "I didn't know that I'd fall for you, Y/N. I've never even liked a girl. Especially not one who's so sure of herself."

I scoffed, meeting her confused look with a knowing one. "Seriously? You're Jackie fucking Taylor, the most confident girl in school."

"Not always," she said with a wince. "Clearly."

I watched her, struggling to accept what she was saying.

"I understand if you hate me," she said, straightening up and meeting my gaze with a solemn one. "And I'll truly leave you alone, as you wish. Just say the word."

I pressed my lips together, seeing the serious expression on her face. I couldn't just say the word, because no matter how hard I'd tried to hate her, I just couldn't. All I'd really wanted was for her to like me, too.

She stood patiently, probably would have stood there for the rest of the day, waiting for me to speak. And I hated it because she'd hurt me deeply, but now I understood why. And even after everything, I still wanted her.

"Y/N?"

For once, I stopped overthinking and just kissed her, eyes closing when my lips met hers. She breathed out and lifted her hand to rest on my neck, pulling me closer and sending shivers down my spine at the contact. It was desperate, I was aware, but I couldn't get enough of her taste, her floral scent reminding me of last time, the adrenaline rush.

Without meaning to, her back hit her the desk behind her, but other than a brief readjustment, we continued to make out, my head spinning with thoughts of how good she felt so close to me. Stupid pretty girls and their stupid pretty faces.

We pulled apart for air, but I didn't let go of her just yet. My heart was thumping in my chest as I caught my breath, lips tingling as they craved for hers yet again.

"I really like you too," I said without thinking, eyes flickering to hers. "That's why it stung when you did what you did. Why I was so angry."

She nodded slowly in understanding. "I'm sorry."

I sighed, closing my eyes as I tried to collect my thoughts, but it was pretty damn difficult when she was still invading every sense of mine and I welcomed it.

"I don't know how I can trust you," I admitted, opening my eyes and being met with her determined expression.

"You can," she promised.

"What if you decide you don't want this anymore?" I asked, not wanting to doubt her feelings, but not prepared to start something that could end in heartbreak. "What if you think you've made a mistake? Start to miss Jeff? Then what, Jackie?"

"That won't happen," she said with certainty, thumb stroking my cheek.

"But it could."

She frowned, eyes boring into mine as if trying to make me understand. Finally, she said, "I'll spend forever proving you wrong."

I got lost in her eyes, so full of conviction that I had no choice but to believe her. Maybe some things were worth the risk. She certainly was.

"I'd love to see that," I said after a moment, an attempt at a joke.

She paused, trying to digest my words, and then she cracked a small smile.

"I forgive you," I told her. "I know how hard it can be to admit your feelings to yourself, especially for the first time."

She was hopeful, and I was suddenly overcome with an excitement because Jackie Taylor was stood in my arms, telling me she liked me, and I wasn't dreaming.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, making me smile.

A simple nod and then she captured my bottom lip between hers, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter a storm. Unlike before, this kiss was slower than the others, more considerate, and I knew then and there that I'd never get sick of her lips.

She pulled away after leaving me breathless, her eyes half lidded when they looked from my lips to my eyes. "How was that for proving you wrong?"

I let out a breathy chuckle, admittedly a little flustered. "It's a start."

A smug smile appeared on her lips and then she was kissing me again, laughing as she did.

Lil bonus scene:

This was the least peppiest pep rally I'd ever been to, producing the worst photos I could take because everybody looked bored. As the principal made a speech about how 'good' the baseball team were doing this year, I snapped a few photos but ultimately sat bored in the front row. Everybody was much more excited for the star of the show – the Yellowjackets.

And after what felt like forever, the school band began to play their instruments and the soccer team began making their way in. Like a switch had been flipped, all the students in the bleachers stood up, cheering and applauding and celebrating their favourite sports team.

A much better subject, I began to photograph the crowd, all dressed in the bright yellow and blue school colours, waving signs and beaming with painted faces. And then my focus shifted to the team themselves, who were lining up before the crowd, grins on their faces. Despite the principal trying to calm everyone down so he could make his speech about how great they were doing, nobody would listen, still cheering on the team.

As I was snapping photos of them all, Jackie caught my eye and a playful smirk was on her lips when she winked at me. Even after the month we'd been together so far, she still left me nervous sometimes, thought I'd accepted that was what came with dating someone as self-assured as Jackie Taylor. We hadn't broadcasted our relationship by any means, but students at school weren't stupid and they were beginning to put it together. I didn't mind though, and I hoped she didn't either.

Finally, the principal managed to quieten everyone down long enough to make a speech worth listening to, expressing his pride in the Yellowjackets and wishing them luck as they prepared for the game tomorrow which would determine whether they'd make it to nationals.

After he finished, the band played them out, along with the audience's cheering, and then everybody began to leave. I was one of the last few to go, making my way out of the sports hall, only to be pulled to the side suddenly, realising Jackie had been waiting for me.

"Someone took their time," she said impatiently, crossing her arms, now wearing her varsity jacket over her soccer uniform.

"Someone was doing their job," I reminded her with a smile, wiggling my camera in the air.

At this, she quirked a brow. "You got my good side, right?"

I laughed. "Jackie Taylor doesn't have a bad side. She knows it too."

She began to smile, flicking her hair in agreement, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You look cute with your face paint on," I told her, referring to the little yellow jacket painted on her cheek.

"It's called school pride," she said, before giving me a disapproving look. "You didn't dress up."

"Again, I was busy photographing everything," I said, raising my camera for emphasis.

"Well, we can't have that," she said, tutting, and then she pulled off her varsity jacket and attempted to wrap it around me, but I stopped her.

"Wait," I said, realising what she was doing.

"What?"

I stared at her knowingly. "It's your jacket."

"Duh."

"Yeah," I agreed in a matter-of-fact tone, "but–"

"I'm giving it to you," she said simply, confused when I wouldn't put my arms in it as she held it open.

"You can't," I said, wondering if she was playing dumb or what.

She furrowed her brows. "What? Why?"

I amended my comment, "I mean, yeah, you can, but you know that people will put two and two together, right? You give me that and it'll be, like, an actual confirmation to everyone that we're dating."

Still, she wasn't following as she stared with raised brows. "Okay? And...?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. "You don't mind?"

Finally catching on to why I was questioning her, she relaxed and lowered the jacket momentarily. "That's sweet of you to ask, but no, I don't mind." She paused, before glancing at me worriedly. "Wait, do you?"

I sighed, before an amused smile formed on my lips. "No, I don't. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to."

Her expression softened, smile appearing on her lips and matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I want to. Now, come here."

This time, I let her help me into her jacket, immediately engulfed in her scent and warmth and not minding in the slightest. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork, eyes looking me up and down for several seconds too long and leaving me with a warm face.

"I should've given you this sooner," she said, impressed, and I rolled my eyes at her pride.

She chuckled before pulling me in for a quick kiss, and then we walked hand in hand down the hallway.

"You know that this means you have to be my number one fan now, right?" she asked, giving me a sideways glance.

I tried not to laugh as I said, "But I already supported the team–"

"No, not the team's fan," she cut me off nonchalantly, "mine. Me. Player number nine."

At her dead serious expression, I began to chuckle quietly. "Nine. My new favourite number, darling."

A smile crept on her lips. "Good."

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor #ella purnell #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets

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quandaryqueen · 1 year

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Since requests are open again, could you perhaps do some headcannons for Yandere! Young Justice Riddler?

White knuckle jerk

Yandere Young Justice Edward Nygma X Reader

Yandere? YJ Eddie? Oh my god my loves 😍💕 oh lordy labacamoo, I love you for requesting this. I am so sorry it took too long, I just really needed the time to think about how I can do this request justice and I really hope I did

Also, I'd love to try something new for the Reader's role. You'll see.

CW: Yandere Content, Toxic Relationship Dynamic

💚 Yanderes are a different kind of breed, aren't they? Just the absolute worse, to think they are entitled to a person just because the object of obsession looked their way once and now the Yandere won't stop until they're satisfied on how they have their darling in their grasp.

There are myriad classifications of Yandere. There's the sadistic, protective, delusional, laid-back, vouyeristic, etc etc.

Then there's Edward Nygma, the Riddler, the pathetic one. The one who tries to hold over control over his darling in a way that's degradingly cute of him to try and cuff you to the bed, only to apologize, kneeling, crying, clinging, pleading for you to forgive him, as he kisses your feet for forgiveness.

💚 You were caught as object of obsession, the hot topic among circles of villainy, you've made a name for yourself, an instant terror struck upon the masses and a threat to be snuffed out... All he ever wanted.

And so he set out to watch you for his pure fascination. How does one person in which a calibre like yours operates?

Well for one, he kept a record of your agenda and had managed to track footage of you through various security cameras from wherever you go. It was difficult at first but it's certainly a tell of his determination. From the direction of your headquarters, the bank you recently robbed, a construction site you rigged with explosives as bait for the heroes, your life as a civilian as well, wherein he'd observe you go on about your alter ego where you managed to hide your identity very well. It's simply laughable how you aren't cuffed by the police yet with this amount of footage.

Seeing you go from the cold, masked monster to a warm face that smiles back during encounters was jarring, but fascinating to him. And he can't even tell which one was an act and which was genuine.

💚 Now, the tricky part was making himself known... Wait... Isn't he already known? He has to be, he's been trying to establish himself as one of the greatest threats of Gotham, of course he'd be known! You'd know who he is! Who doesn't?

Anyways... He has pinpointed your latest agenda, striking up a deal with a little known rogue who has yet to make a name for themself. It would be easy to acquire access of their contacts, plus he thinks his reputation would be a great addition to be considered when he plans to make himself known to them as an ally and as a result, get to meet you.

💚 A crush? No. Fascination is the correct word. He isn't above admitting he looks up to you, that he admires your way of doing things and would like to emulate that.

💚 When the time came, he establish himself as an ally of the team, he finally met you.

"V/N, I presume? Your reputation precedes you,"

"Ah, I forgot. Y/N, this is the Riddler." Edward glances at the third person, who is apparently on a first name basis with you. And not to mention, how they sound more at ease around you.

"Riddler... I've heard of him. The one with the question marks," You merely looked over your friend with disinterest as if he weren't there. "And what other help can he offer our cost? Other than being utilised for a... Questionable bait." You paused, trying to find a word less offensive.

"I can assure you-- I'm quite effective in wide ranges of cyber-related needs, strategies, techs--"

"I suppose we can make use of you. Now, if you were to excuse us for a moment, I'd like to talk to Gaslight alone."

Edward practically shrank under your intensive gaze, before wordlessly excusing himself.

💚 One would think he'd be turned off after your display of decorum (lack thereof), he was not. For one, this treatment wasn't particularly new for him and second, he expected this. He has been watching you after all. What's more, he was compelled. How it will all feel worth it once he has done the unthinkable, the impossible. Little ol' him.

He was on the team. That, he can tick off the checklist. Now all to do was to get along with you or Gaslight, the rogue who has agreed to work with him. You seem to get along with them very well and perhaps through a mutual friend, he can develop a bond with you.

It was no easy task, he was prepared from the mount Everest of a research, you would be the most difficult person to conquer in any way. There was nothing you find more repulsive, like submitting under someone. Let alone someone like him. But he felt in control.

He knows what to do, what to expect.

💚 Everything about you wasn't easy. You are irritable to anyone you don't like, save for a few people you tolerate. You also pick up one of the myriads of masks and use it for your own benefit, building a beguiling reputation for being a soft-hearted, thoughtful angel to some, not so much when they turned around.

He was aware of just how you are when you're at your worst, striking unprovoked and ruining someone's life for your benefit without much an ounce of regret and how you can do that to anyone, including those who you seem to have deceived that you have bond. By the looks of it, you might do the same thing to him. But he doesn't care. If that makes him more to you, then take whatever you want from him.

💚 Stupidly persistent, determined, willing to take damage if it means pleasing you. Everything he takes from you, from the verbal hits to the bruises and welts, he was going to take it. Somehow, someway, he is going to have you under his control soon, pull the rag from under your feet...

And in his delusions, he sees himself as this soon to be dominant, in-control, ever so merciful Yandere who will be your everything. In his head, that's his conclusion. In reality, he couldn't hurt you, he couldn't bear the thought of making you cry, let alone lose all the things you want... But if he had to do that, then so be it. It would have been for a better cause, he justifies.

💚 It just so happens your second-in-command, best friend, Gaslight, first name Gayle and last name Ilaw happened to have failed to escape an exploding building from one of your missions... But don't worry, Edward was there for you, he will be your new best friend... Or more, if you'd like.

"What did you not understand about what I said?" You utter coldly, sparing no glances at the hindrance that is Edward. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"I am so sorry for your loss," Edward approaches your slumped figure standing by the balcony. He felt as though he was in your good graces to be excluded from the goons you've yelled at to leave after receiving the news of Gaslight's death.

Gaslight... Long time friend, someone you considered as family. Second-in-command, confidante... An important piece of you Edward had to yank out in hopes of filling her role. It was a massive gap to fill, but you should know by now, he would do anything.

"If you need someone to talk to, I am always a call away."

Edward could not help but to smile as he exit.

The normal you would have barked at him... This development was just what Edward needed, to see the cracks form and soon enough he'd be there to pick up the pieces for you. It will only be just a matter of time until he reduce you into nothing but broken shards of what used to be you, needing to be made whole again with him by your side.

#edward nygma #riddler x reader #dc x reader #edward nygma x reader #dc x you #edward nigma #request #young justice riddler #edward nygma x you #yandere cw #labacamoo #young justice edward nygma x reader #young justice riddler x reader

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starstruckwillows · 1 year

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♡ van halen's pretty great - e.m ♡

requested by anon<3

eddie munson x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, missing!reader, upside down, note: the song referenced uses she/her pronouns, no pronouns are used for reader

there are two things the upside down can't take from you; music, and eddie

it was one thing for vines to so cruelly and perfectly entrap you, twisting and writhing around your limbs, spreading up your neck, tangling into your hair.

that was one thing. for the vines to be alive? part of a conscious being?

that was another thing.

but as they crawled further and further up your body, neither of those things crossed your mind. your mind was too preoccupied.

for days you'd heard eddie shouting. you'd heard his panic, his fear, his anguish. you wondered if he felt yours, despite your silence.

but you knew the volume of his yells meant nothing. he wasn't down the other end of a tunnel, waiting to save you. he was down the other end of a hallway in a completely different world. parallel to your imprisonment.

most of you had ventured to the upside down at least once now.

for yourself, robin, steve, and nancy... this was the first. and it seemed about appropriate of your luck that you'd become seperated from the group so fast.

you blinked rapidly, still trying to get accustomed to the murky, grimy air. everything seemed tinged an unflattering shade of red and grey.

how did will survive for so long?

songs. he'd sung.

you tried to do the same, quietly, under your breath. the song playing when you first properly met eddie.

it was so hard to remember. you knew that song like you knew yourself, you could play it on almost any instrument, you cited it in daily conversation.

dance the night away, van halen. but how did it start?

you squeezed your eyes shut now. desperate, cold, and thirsty.

eddie was shouting frantically again, yet his voice was ever so faint in your ears, "have you seen her? anywhere?" pleading.

but your eyes snapped open with new hope. that was the first line.

have you seen her? so fine and pretty-

you shivered violently, vines tightening. did they know you were remembering?

as soon as you were warned to steer right clear of eddie munson, you were confused. you'd seen him, even briefly spoken to him as his locker was next to yours. he didn't seem anything like a devil.

a tiny smile crept onto your face as you recalled the firm decision to ignore those telling you he was insane. you'd been so intent on finding out who he was, really. you found yourself slightly in awe of his bravado.

this was a town who actively shunned him, and he'd turned around with his middle fingers up and claimed he didn't care one bit.

in wake of his apparent confidence, you'd tried to act sauve around him, when you wanted to stutter out something likely embarrassing.

fooled me with her style and ease.

the melody came to you then, and you could hum it to yourself. maybe it was your imagination, but the vine around your neck seemed to flex, and ever so slightly slide down.

it had been his trailer.

you were walking through the park anyway, posters in hand for a friend's missing dog. there were only two left in the stack, and you were taping one to a lampost right outside eddie's home, though you didn't know that at the time.

"hey!" he called from the doorway. you spun quickly to face him, already feeling the heat rising to your face.

yeah, i feel her, from across the room-

it had been thumping out from his trailer, and always curious, you'd asked him about the music, walking over.

the way eddie spoke about music was the way eddie spoke about dnd. excitement, passion, genuine enjoyment from a thing. he wanted to share that with anyone who'd listen, and recently, that had only been you.

oh it's love in the third degree.

the song had played again when eddie told you he loved you for the first time, at a record shop you took him to for his birthday.

you desperately clung onto that, his hands, his skin, his lips, his voice, and the process of it all fading slowed. the words were flowing now, the song creating a minimally effective aura that repulsed the vines by the smallest amount.

ooh, baby, baby, won't'cha turn your head my way

three days later, you were found. extracted, the scientists said.

and it felt so wrong.

until eddie called you baby. he called you a million overbearingly sweet names that made you cry with relief in a stark hospital room, feeling like you were learning to breathe right again.

"you're gonna be just fine, my love." he whispered, smoothing wisps of hair to your head as he murmured the sickliest things he could conjure him.

the expected tears of yours never came. you weren't sad. you were just numb, but the brunette curls splayed across your chest sparked feeling in your heart.

"y'know how i survived?" your voice was hoarse, sore with misuse and leftover panic.

he shook his head.

"you. and van halen."

the smile he let cross his face was so cautious, as though any slither of happiness would break the spell. he'd wake up and you'd be lost again.

"well, what can i say? van halen's pretty great."

you're original intention was to force energy into the both of you, to talk all night about everything. you missed the sound of his voice, the real sound, not the one in your head.

but by hiding his head in your arm, breathing become deeper than usual, he'd fallen asleep, caved to those dark circles that the weeks' sleepness nights had wrought upon him.

you succumbed not long after.

taglist:

@anordinarymuse @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kingshitonly

#starstruckwillows #hurt/comfort #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson hurt/comfort #x reader #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #stranger things

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kazutora-lover · 1 year

Text

I rarely ever rant like this but listen,

If there's one thing I have a problem with, then it's people who complain about anything and everything. Yes, this is about the Blue Lock anime.

It's come to my attention, that a LOT of people are making fun of Rin's and the other's (voice actors') English. And I'm here to ask a genuine question, because it just irks me.

What exactly is your problem?

I hope that, whoever of you make fun of his accent and the accents of the other non-English speakers, will someday start to understand that there's a reason accents exist.

These people have been speaking their native languages basically since they were born. Some people might've just recently started to learn a new language. What gives you the right to make fun of those people? And what would you feel if someone made fun of you for having an accent too?

If you come and say crap like, "I wouldn't give a fuck because who even are they?"

Good for you.

And before someone comes and say's, "It's only fictional characters, why are you so pressed?"

Because this isn't about the fictional characters but rather about the people behind them. They do this so that WE can enjoy ourselves and yet a LOT of you are sitting on that high horse like you're perfect. Believe me, you aren't ;).

It's so easy to criticize people when you sit behind a screen, isn't it?

This is for the native English speakers and the wannabe native speakers out there who just love to complain. — Why do you expect people to speak "your" language without an accent?

Is it to compensate the fact that other people, unlike some of you — apparently — actually take the time out of their day to learn something new? That they actually show interest in things other than themselves?

Or is it maybe the fact that you felt your ego deflate because other people actually own those two extra brain cells you lack?

It's perfectly fine if English is your second, third or even fourth language and you manage to speak it accent-free. But not everyone can do that and that's perfectly fine too.

I think accents are something beautiful because they show that we were capable of learning something new but we didn't lose our roots. And we DON'T have to lose our accents just to sound more pleasing to your ears.

That's the point about diversity. It'd be boring if we all sounded the same.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, mixed with passive aggressive remarks and some compliments to EVERYONE who has an accent. You guys are loved and appreciated. Never lose yourself, please.

— in love, a non-native English speaker ♡

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock anime #i'm sorry for ranting but i had to get this off my chest #this also goes for other anime and shows with voice actors in the shadows #i took blue lock as an example because i just noticed it AGAIN #kazutora-lover

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nerves-nebula · 8 months

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my dad sent us videos of some weird objects and then broke down in an extremely long text how each of the objects relates to things that have gone wrong in his life, and how these objects were dug up from beneath his house.

this was like, a juju thing apparently? like basically a curse to stagnate him financially, to stagnate his family life, to make him and his kids impotent (his words), and to prevent us all from ever returning to Nigeria to like, take over his estates if he died.

he then goes on to talk about the kidnappers who were supposed to kill him a while back (seems pretty recent but i don't remember him telling me about these kidnappers, only the ones from when i was a kid. don't worry about it i guess!)

he mentions a pentacostal prophet (i do not know what that is) who dug up/removed these items from his house who said they might have to do with some of the family issues he's been having (which like yeah man. your wife is abusive and your kids hate you cuz you are also kind of abusive but w/e)

sooo now apparently his driver and carpenter are detained (i didnt know he had those things) cause of something to do with the kidnappers?? like idk maybe they were related to that happening?

this is all to say that his evil half brother is probably to blame (it's always fucking something with that guy. don't ask me his name, i don't know it)

ANYYYYWAY I'm telling you guys this because 1- i want to remember when i scroll back through this blog and 2- a while back while playing wizard101 in Zafaria (yikes, i know) they said some generally racist stuff about Juju and i got so genuinely offended on my dads behalf despite not having thought about it in years.

like first of all fuck off second of all shut up third of all juju is a real thing and just cuz i don't really get it doesn't mean it's not clearly important. some motherfucker stuck a key through a snail to fuck with my dad like !!

it's kinda interesting cuz i dont really know what juju is? my dad mentions it now and then, but he's also strictly christian, so it's like, christian with his own cultural Tiv background. so like, this is all distinctly non-christian witchcraft, which is clearly taken as a serious threat. but with the addition of stuff like him saying that "god is clearly at work here, let us put our faith and trust in Jesus Christ, the author and finisher of our fates"

so like. interesting stuff going on here. they put the objects in a bag and burned them, so i hope this helps him out. i also hope he doesn't die violently.

#nnstuff #rambling #racism tw #violence tw #juju #my dad is bad lmao

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satancopilotsmytardis · 9 months

Note

🌈☯️

I need you to know what a profound impact your fics have had on my life. They helped pull me out of a troubling mindset and were the driving force behind me picking up writing again and genuinely makes me feel understood and acknowledged dispite have nothing to do with me, I'm not fighting a war I have only a third of a chance at winning against superpowered child soldiers. But the the scale you bring your stories down to the focus on the internal aspects, the self understanding (and lack of sometimes) present in every situation and the way the characters relationships effect each other... Ugh your fics are both killing me and giving me new life. So thank you.

Oh man, wow. I really don't know what to say, I'm so glad that you're getting so much out of my silly little stories. I'm also so happy to hear that you've started working on your own! I personally think that the act of creating something (anything) is such a great way to examine the self and one's relationship with the rest of the world, I hope that doing so can keep helping you the way it seems like it already has! Thank you so, so much for always having a kind word for my stories, it always encourages me to keep creating more!

🌈 Is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

Ha ha, you all know by now that I am really actively still struggling with Shattered and have been for a few months now. I think I've determined that I just absolutely fucking hate writing in chaptered segments. Something about breaking things into chapters ruins my brain and flow of writing because I also struggled constantly with Playing Favorites and that's a multi-chap too.

☯️ how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

Oof, fucking coming for my kneecaps with a serious question that I don't have a strong answer for. I'm going to be honest, I haven't been active in fandom spaces for many years because while interacting in fandom spaces can be really encouraging and create a wonderful community, it can be really toxic too, which I don't think is a controversial take. I don't think I have room to talk on this subject because I am a person who isn't social and who experiences social anxiety. I'm very sensitive and just a bad experience or two is enough to poison an entire thing that I liked and make me give up on it, so I really avoid going into bigger and more generalized fandom spaces. I live by the rule of creating my one little tiny corner and then making everything in it work for me, and if other people see it and like it then they can come and hang out and we can all have a nice chill time, but if I see something I don't like, then I'm very liberal with my block button and policing my own internet experience. This blog is the little corner I've made recently! So far everyone who has joined me here as been so sweet, kind, and encouraging and that has been so good! It makes me want to make even more things and then I get so excited because the things I've made have apparently inspired other people to make their own things too! That feedback loop of inspiration and encouragement is definitely the best and most healthy thing that can come out of fandom experiences to me!

#tanco speaks #writer asks #asks #ask

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alextheavoidant · 6 months

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Kinda forgot about this blog for a minute. I have a tendency to start things and then get distracted by something else and forget what I was doing before, lol. Sorry about that.

Anyway.... i have been hesitant to talk about this... Mainly because it's so painful. But I've been dealing with losing what I guess you would call my best friend. No, they didn't die or anything. But my idea of who I thought they were has. They're my cousin. Basically a sibling to me. And after knowing them since they were literally born, I have finally had to face the hard truth. That they themselves, even though I thought we were on the same wavelength, even though I thought we were the ones who saw the dysfunction in our family, the ones who fought against it, who were going against the grain in hopes of better, healthier lives... They, too, have been corrupted by the narcissistic family system. That their understanding of me, attempts to emulate me, mirror back my sentiments... we're all manipulative. Nothing about them was ever genuine. I went no contact about two months ago when they showed me who they really are. It was the third occurrence when they engaged in overt abuse and manipulation against me. And after two months of having them out of my life, of speaking with my therapist and members of support groups extensively, and reflecting on our entire relationship... I can only come to one conclusion.

Obviously, I am not a therapist or a professional of any kind, and can't diagnose anyone with anything... But I am absolutely convinced that this cousin of mine is a covert/vulnerable narcissist.

The past two months have been hard. There's been a lot of having to accept things I don't want to. Re-educating myself on things I learned years ago, and learning new things, all of which support this hypothesis. A lot of having to reframe things that they have done and said and determine if it makes sense in this new reality. And it does. As much as I wish it didn't. It all makes too much sense not to be true.

I have struggled with wanting to contact this person for different reasons. Wanting to call them out. Wanting to see if they are ready to apologize. Wanting to tell them what I see in them for the purpose of making them aware so they can do something about it, if they want to. I have to keep reminding myself they are not my responsibility. That they will most likely not listen to anything I have to say and I'd be wasting time and just giving them an opportunity to hurt me more. That I can't save or change them. And that, narcissist or not, they have not only abused me, but are just generally not a healthy person to have in my life, period.

I've seen the red flags for a long time. I have been suspicious of things. Had questions. Noticed inconsistencies and lack of empathy. Lies. Deceit. Manipulations. Not just of me, but others. But thankfully, this person finally put their true I tent on full display. I guess they decided they had me in so deep I would take their abuse and wouldn't walk away, because id been in it for so long. Or maybe they felt they already lost me, because I had recently started taking better care of myself, learning to love myself, and as a result paying less attention to them and their need to dump all their problems and negative emotions onto me.

I am glad they are no longer in my life. In a sense, I think I've been wanting this relationship to end for a while, but I had no reason to cut them off until now. And yet, it hurts. I have had days lately where I've been feeling depressed for no apparent reason. I have anxiety about the smear campaign, because I know it's happening. She gossips and complains about people all the time, even when they mildly annoy her, so I know she's on the war path against me. Even though I never got close to her friends and don't really care about what they think (in a logical sense, my AVPD would beg to differ), and I'm fairly certain my family and other mutual people would know me well enough not to believe her, unless they do for their own purposes, which is definitely a possibility with my narc family. It's hard to know for sure. But the fear of what will happen next is looming.

#venting #blog #dysfunctional family values #abuse #narcissistic personality disorder #narc family #covert narcissism

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thestingerblog · 2 years

Text

Nathan Fielder's Unique Approach to Comedy

Read on our site

Aero: Welcome to the Stinger Conversations! This is the 2nd edition of this new format – we hope that you are enjoying it so far. This week we’re going to be talking about Nathan Fielder.

Nathan Fielder got his start in comedy television. He had a segment on a show called This Hour Has 22 Minutes, which is like The Daily Show in Canada. He worked with Jon Benjamin on his show before landing his own show: Nathan For You. He recently created and stars in The Rehearsal on HBO. This week, we’re going to discuss what makes his work so special and why some people are so divisive about it. His comedy really isn’t for everyone, but nobody’s comedy can appeal to everyone. I think it should be pointed out that if you think his comedy is exploitative or cruel, that’s clearly not the intent.

A profiler for New York magazine reached out to Fielder’s clients from Nathan For You to ask about their experience, and Fielder apparently seemed genuinely upset when he found out that some people had felt exploited or made a fool of in the show. We personally don’t think that what he does is malicious but it is worth looking into his approach to making comedy. We’ve both been really enjoying The Rehearsal so far, and Sam, you just watched the new episode, right?

Sam: Yes, and my two cents on this debate about Fielder’s comedy can be simplified as: I think Nathan fielder is a genius. I don’t usually idolize a lot of people, but what he’s doing with comedy is so innovative. It’s definitely something we need right now in this world where comedy is used as a coping mechanism. I feel like his newest series is super healing to watch, and his work is just great, to sum it up.

Aero: I’ve really liked The Rehearsal so far. I’ve only seen two episodes and the third one just came out as we’re recording this, but I think that you’re right. It is really innovative. There are a few people, his contemporaries, who are doing similar things, but those people are not doing it the same way he does. He essentially created his own genre of what is now called “reality comedy”. People like Sacha Baron-Cohen seem to want to humiliate people, and that’s not what Nathan does on his show. The Rehearsal just seems so… earnest.

Sam: The thing about his comedy is that it comes from a place of good intention. Even in his Nathan For You days, his intention wasn’t to humiliate people. He literally says in the opening sequence that he wants to help small businesses thrive. So you know from the beginning that he wants to help people. Some people interpret his show like he’s trying to hurt people, but it’s just that he comes up with methods that aren’t traditional or might seem a little outlandish. That’s where people start drawing the line where they’re kind of like, “Oh, this is not what we’re used to seeing so we’re going to be apprehensive about it.” Even though, deep down, Nathan’s just trying to help.

Aero: As people, we often instinctively think that anything we’re not familiar with is a threat. Yeah, his methods are unorthodox when he’s helping them; like, poo-flavored frozen yogurt isn’t a thing people make, so when people immediately see that, they get tunnel vision and think he’s trying to just prank these businesses. But in reality, you can see on the show that it worked. I think the means justify the ends in this case because the shop gets publicity, and it genuinely helped them even before the show came out.

Sam: The whole shtick of Nathan seeming – and obviously, on the show he amps it up – where he seems like he doesn’t understand why his suggestions might be seen as crude, but I think at the core, the show just wants to provide visibility for small business. The nature of the medium, of television, is to capture people’s attention and give visibility to something. So, even though it seems like Nathan might be sabotaging businesses on the show, he ultimately wants to give them more publicity just by including them in this show.

Aero: He understands that his show is a platform where people can grow more aware of the small businesses around them. It’s really clear because Brian Wolfe, the private investigator, had a show for a bit. The ghost realtor, Sue Stanford, also pitched a show that got a pilot. So, Nathan’s providing a platform for these people that they otherwise would not have gotten. I don’t get why people on the internet are so pissed about his methods when none of them are harmed. They’re all only gaining from this experience, even though it didn’t seem like it when they were doing the episode.

Sam: Another reason why people might feel like these people involved could feel exploited is that a lot of them seem like they don’t know what’s happening. But I do think another point to address is how the show as a medium factors into this because these people, for the most part, know that they’re being filmed, so they know that this is probably not real. When you see something being filmed, you never assume that the end result is going to be 100% what is happening in reality. That’s the assumption you make when you see that you’re being filmed or when you see something else is being filmed because you know that the edited result will be different. Even if they didn’t have any idea of what exactly was going on, they still knew that this was something that was going to be put out there on the Internet.

Aero: It’s not like the people didn’t know they were going to be on the show. Robbin Stone, the star, the scene stealer, of the second Rehearsal episode was approached by a producer and asked if he wanted to be on a TV show. Naturally, like everyone who’s on a TV show, he had to sign a release form, so he knew and consented to the camerapeople, to the producers, and to Nathan himself to show what he’s like. These people on the show know they’re being filmed when they said and did those things. It’s not like it’s going to be a huge shock to them when they see the final edit because they knew they were going to be filmed hitting a bong or admitting that they don’t drive with a license plate, you know?

Sam: People can also say no to being involved in this. If someone’s really uncomfortable, they can absolutely say no, so it’s not like they’re being forced into this. To be fair, a lot of them feel pressured to say yes because of the camera. That’s a huge part of the show: people are agreeing to do these things because they want to be on TV. The whole purpose of this show is to satirize the extent of what people do for the sake of the camera.

Aero: People are only blasting Nathan For You and The Rehearsal as reality shows because they can see the “exploitation” happening. Other reality shows do the exact same thing, but they hide it from people. They usually don’t include when the producer or host is asking open-ended questions to the people of most other shows. It’s very clear that Nathan’s shows are a commentary on how evil reality shows are.

And I think it is a big conversation about how people just want to be on TV, no matter what they’re doing. That’s why not many people said no to an opportunity like Nathan For You or The Rehearsal. But again, in the end, it’s not like they had a huge loss because of it. Kor (the Brooklyn teacher Fielder helped in The Rehearsal’s pilot) eventually confessed to Tricia that he’d been lying, and it proved that the rehearsals helped him.

Sam: Another thing I wanted to talk about was the difference between The Rehearsal and Nathan For You, which is that The Rehearsal is so much more emotionally raw, whereas Nathan For You was trying to be more comedic. Both of these approaches work so well because Nathan For You is able to satirize how people act on camera, but The Rehearsal brings into question why people would care about acting a certain way in front of a camera. The Rehearsal brings in so many scenarios of Nathan helping people in real-life situations that show the kind of people who want to be on camera or who are willing to be on camera. It’s interesting to go deeper into the causes of the behavior that’s satirized in the first show he made.

Aero: The way Nathan Fielder disarms his guests is also different between The Rehearsal and Nathan For You, where he obviously played a character who’s stilted, stiff, and shy. In The Rehearsal, he seems more human, more grounded; he’s also part of a rehearsal at this point and can’t put up the character 24/7 so he feels more like a real person and more human. That’s how people open up to him more.

Sam: A huge part of why Nathan Fielder is able to pull off this kind of comedy is… first of all: his delivery is always fantastic. He’s the master of deadpan. Second of all, it just goes back to the point that he’s doing this from a place of care and that his priority isn’t making fun of specific people – his priority above anything else is to help people, even if it’s unconventional, even if he may have accidentally misunderstood situations.

In the newest episode, he realizes that there’s an emotional component to what he’s been doing, and this sort of awareness is super new and really interesting.

Aero: What makes The Rehearsal so special is that he has an emotional connection to his rehearsal subject now. You can make that up, but it just doesn’t seem like it’s made-up. He seems so earnest in wanting a family and wanting to know how to raise a child and build a home. That could, in the end, be a manipulation tactic and we could all be wrong and we could take this back as the series finale comes out. But for now, I think it’s genuine in that not only does he want to help people, but he also wants to help himself. That’s what makes it so different, and that’s why it kind of bothers me that people are like, “Oh, Nathan is manipulating guests on his show.” But in this case, that would mean he would have to be manipulating himself as well.

Sam: So many people are just uncomfortable with the fact that he approaches things differently and that he’s able to admit things that we don’t want to. Honestly, given the chance, I think we would all want the chance to feel how it is to start a family before actually doing it. But a lot of us might be scared to actually admit that. Nobody – very few people – would honestly admit that they’re scared to start a family and want to simulate it first to prepare because some people would think that’s a weird or outlandish idea even though a lot of us would secretly want that.

The fact that Nathan is able to confront it head-on is what disturbs a lot of people. He’s able to do these ideas or explores these emotions that everybody experiences, but nobody wants to step out and say that they’re feeling this way.

Aero: What makes him a special person is that he has an acute understanding of why people act a certain way or how funny people can be even without much prompting. He’s observant in the way that John Wilson is observant. They can both see like weird things that people do and capture them on camera. That doesn’t mean they’re manipulative – they just know how to lead people into interacting with them and acting like themselves in front of the camera. So many people usually act fake or act really technical or professional in front of a camera when they don’t need to be.

Sam: I saw a lot of people on the Nathan For You and How To With John Wilson Reddits ask if these shows are really documentaries, and some people pointed out that even documentaries are edited. Documentaries about nature are even edited to follow a narrative about an animal’s lifespan or whatnot. So, we see media through this super filtered, artificial lens that John Wilson and Nathan Fielder are able to avoid as they present their material honestly or in a way that’s true to their nature and doesn’t make us feel blindsided.

Aero: Nathan’s shows make us question what artifice is because we do see more than we usually would in a reality TV show, but also Nathan’s work makes us question what is scripted and what is planned. We know the Daniel scene, where the guy admits to drinking his grandson’s pee, is real because Nathan actually breaks, but other than that, he never breaks. He keeps a straight face so we never know what’s real or not. He makes us question what is real, what is the narrative, and how that fits in the final edit.

Sam: Nathan Fielder approaches comedy in such an innovative way, and some people misunderstand his intentions. People just need to evaluate what he’s trying to do, and once they take that into consideration, they can understand where he’s coming from and what the whole purpose of his comedy is.

Aero: I’m excited that there’s a possibility that the Nathan Fielder discourse has been orchestrated by Nathan himself. There’s a non-zero chance that this could be true.

Sam: Yeah, I guess that would be one of the greatest pranks any comedian has ever pulled on the internet.

#nathan fielder #tv shows #comedy #commentary #the rehearsal #nathan for you

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jesslockwood · 3 years

Text

SOUR | T. Holland

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Warnings: angsty af, swearing

Summary: y/n and tom broke up, and when tom comes around with his new girl 2 weeks later, y/n is sour.

A/n: I was hesitant to post this due to everything going on with tom lmao but yk, fuck it lol. anyways lmk if you want a part two cause I this was pretty short and I have ideas! also I didn’t edit this much lol so sorry for the mistakes!

His brown guilty eyes were enough to know that he moved on, in two weeks to be exact, after you broke it off. He was spotted recently with a girl he said he was just friends with, what a damn lie.

You try to not let the tears out as you see them making their way on the red carpet of the movie premiere. He looked you straight in the fucking eyes, yet couldn’t even give you a heads up he was bringing a date tonight. You worked together for six months yet he didn’t have the decency.

He betrayed you. He didn’t cheat but he betrayed you.

You had even mentioned her by name before, yet he said you were paranoid and had nothing to worry about. What bullshit.

She was just a new trophy for him, one that he’d put on the shelf later, or smash like it like you were broken.

It started out so sweet and innocent. You had met working together and had started dating under the radar, and you fell in love with him so quickly, even at his worst, but it didn’t matter. He moved on with you still in the picture and that’s what hurt the most. But he would never see or care about how much you hurt. He wasn’t sorry.

Isn’t it funny how someone you thought could love you the way you loved them, was a damn traitor?

He played all these twisted games with your mind, thinking that he felt the same way about you, or at least cared.

God, you wanted to scream, she was sleeping in the bed you lied in and made with him. But she couldn’t care less, she got the prize, a shitty one at that.

You didn’t get it, he couldn’t have fallen in love with someone that quickly, not after what you had.

All you had done for Tom, it didn’t apparently matter to him, cause he’s dating her. He gave you his fucking word, that you were the one who meant something to him, you guessed he just used you.

She was gorgeous too, and she made you feel so small, unimportant and the paparazzi all turned to them, and barely any was paying any mind to you, the star of the movie. It sounded selfish but you put the blood sweat and tears into this movie, and all she had to do was walk with the man you put blood sweat and tears into, and she had all the attention.

He just had to bring her and was showing her off like a new trophy. God, you hated him. You hated him for hurting you like this. And yet, if he asked for you back, you would probably jump at the chance.

He seemed so genuine and true when you had first met him. Brown doe-eyed, attentive and listening to every word you said like it was the most important thing in the world, then things got ugly. He would play all these twisted games with you, making you feel like nothing one moment, and then his everything the next.

He even gave you his fucking word and a promise ring that he would always love you, But Isn’t it funny? He’ll never feel sorry for breaking you.

Suddenly one of your friends, well tom’s brother, wraps his arm around your waist, whispering to you, asking if your okay, before the paps get a few snaps in of the moment. Harry starts leading you away from the commotion before you cried. No one had asked you that until today. Which kind of shell shocked you, because you weren’t and he was the first person who seemed to care.

Harry at the moment couldn’t care less about the out-of-character way his brother was acting, especially towards you. Yes, he loved his brother but hated how he was acting. He couldn’t see how he could treat someone as lovely as you like that.

Tom didn’t even notice the way you were destroyed. He let you go, Harry couldn’t understand why because tom seemed so happy with you, until nearing the end of the relationship.

“Thank you, Harry.” you sniffle, once reaching the inside of the building.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me. I should be apologizing for my brother.”

You smile weakly at him. He wipes the tears from your eyes, before suggesting,

“After they have you up on stage for the thank you’s and stuff, we should just ditch this and go back to my hotel and get room service and raid my candy stash, if you’re up for it.”

“I’ll think about it,” you say with a more genuine yet sad smile.

“Let’s get in there, shall we?” he puts his arm out for you and you link yours in his.

What you didn’t realize is that tom saw harry wiping your tears while doing an interview, and saw you link your arms together when he got inside. To say he was fuming doesn’t even cover how enraged he was.

Once getting in, you realized you and tom would be sitting next to one another, something you truly wished you could get out of.

“You’d better wish me luck.” You point to the seats.

Harry got the bright idea to just take his brother’s spot. He wouldn’t care anyway, he had his new girl Zabrina.

You and Harry had a small conversation about what both of you had been up to after he was Tom’s assistant for filming. You saw him almost every day when you and tom would hang out, harry being the third wheel. You had spent a decent chunk of time with him and definitely preferred the company over being alone, or with your ex.

“I can’t believe you dropped your SD card down the drain! Photos are your life, so you should have paid attention!” you laugh with him.

“Harry, You’re in my seat.” Tom interrupts, with a scowl on his face.

“Can’t you just move down one? Y/n and I are talking here.”

“Tommy I can’t see from that seat!” Zabrina pouts like a child.

“If she can’t see why do I have to sit there? I actually worked behind the scenes on this movie!”

“Harry, don’t make me-”

“You know what! Harry and I were leaving after we thank everyone. So you two lovebirds can have the whole row!” you say venom seething from your mouth.

“There you go, Tommy. Have a nice night you two!” Harry follows up, really sick of the attitude his brother was having.

Tom’s face turned red under the makeup he had on. He was enraged. His brother was betraying him.

“Have a nice time, fucking around” he said, seeing red. he saw your face soften, from anger to confusion, to sadness. You didn’t think he thought so low of you.

“What the fuck tom! We aren’t-”

“It’s not worth it Harry, he’s not worth it,” you say sadly. Standing up, Turning to go towards the stage.

That hit tom with a pang in his chest. He was just trying to get over you, to move forward. But maybe that was the problem. He just left you in the dust (peter parker is that you?) to navigate the way you felt over losing one of the best things you ever had. God, you wished you didn’t fall in love with him before he betrayed you. You wished he just would have thought it through before he ruined you.

Your director motioned over to you and Tom to go up on the stage.

“I’ll meet you outside, Y/n/n.”

That was tom’s nickname for you. He came up with it and he was the only one who could call you that. You were his and he was yours. But yet he knew that long-distance was so fucking hard. He couldn’t put you or himself, so he found someone who was fine with the distance. Zabrina barely paid attention to him unless he wanted attention for herself, but he didn’t realize how he broke much more of you than the surface showed.

“She’s really pretty, I hope she makes you happy,” you mention bitterly, hoping in a terrible way, he’d never be as happy as he was with you.

Before Tom, you scream out no one would make him happy as you did. Your director cut tom off.

After your director said thanks to everyone and the film started you grab your bag from your assistant, before heading to the exit, tom hurriedly tried to follow you, being caught by Zabrina, asking Tom to take a selfie with her, so she could commemorate her ‘prize’ when truly, Tom was using her as a rebound.

“Zabrina, I need to talk to harry!” he whispers yells.

“Why? He literally is taking to your wretched ex?” she says with venom in her voice.

Tom jogs around her, trying to get to you and Harry, While Zabrina dramatically calls after him.

He was too late, though, he saw you from the doors, you were already getting in your getaway car, with Harry. He ruined everything.

Harry and you were sitting in the limousine that was rented for you, before harry states, “He’ll be the one who crying, I promise you.”

“I always knew this is how He’d leave me. He found someone more exciting, and better than me. I was used a discarded like nothing.” you laugh through the tears.

“You’ll find someone who finds you exciting Y/n, and you’ll be their whole world.” he comforts you.

“Good for him I guess, but it’s like we never happened. Like what the fuck is that?” you ask.

“He’s acting like a damn sociopath.” harry shrugs.

You laugh at that one.

“So what do you want to watch Y/n?”

“Would you hate me if I said legally blonde?”

“Not if we can watch fight club after.”

“You have a deal, Sir!”

Tom however was stuck, watching you and him on screen. Reminiscing of how he fucked up.

It was getting close to an intimate scene, probably his favorite one he’s ever done. All he could think about was someone else getting to touch you, and be with you, he wanted that but at the same time, he couldn’t deal with all the shit of being with you. The relationship was too good, so much that Tom thought sometimes he didn’t deserve someone like you. It was probably crazy of him for thinking like that, but he couldn’t bring you down with him, not when he was so fucked up. He wished he could be the one but he couldn’t so he just hoped you were okay.

Tags:

@spideyspeaches

@greenorangevioletgrass

@queenofthepouges

@minejungwoo

@keithseabrook27

@lolooo22

@webmeupspiderdaddy

@harryhollandsgirlfriend

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #Tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #Harry holland

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gredandforgesmischief · 3 years

Text

long story short - f.w

title: long story short

pairing: fred x female slytherin reader

summary: fred has been in love with y/n since they were fifteen, but the universe was never really on their side. (idk i'm bad at writing summaries but basically best friends to lovers. this takes place during gof in the spring.) this is also vaguely inspired by "long story short" by taylor swift bc i'm obsessed w her (see if you can find the lyrics)

other characters/pairings mentioned: adrian pucey/y/n, fred/angelina, george weasley, harry potter, ron weasley, neville longbottom

content warnings: its all fluff, some parts can be construed as angsty?? maybe probably not. sad fred at some point. sad y/n at some point. fred and y/n are both clueless all the time for no reason.

a/n: i wrote this with my Head Empty, but I hope you enjoy (feedback welcomed) also this wasn't proof read so ignore any grammatical errors

“... right Fred?”

“Yeah that’s cool, whatever,” Fred grumbled as a very irritated George hit his side.

The pair were having breakfast at the Gryffindor table, and the two were supposed to be brainstorming shop ideas, but it was apparent that Fred’s mind was off somewhere else.

Regardless of how hard he tried, Fred’s mind was often clouded with his feelings about Y/N. The two had been best friends since third year, and it took him a long time to realize that he wanted to be much more than just her best friend. But just as expected, right as Fred realized, Y/N had gotten into a relationship.

“Dude, Y/N is with Adrian now, you need to get over it,” George said. While he did feel bad for his twin, there wasn’t much that either of them could do about it.

Fred nodded, but just as he was about to respond to his brother, he noticed a flustered Y/N get up from the Slytherin table. In all honesty, if Fred hadn’t been staring at her he wouldn’t have noticed how distraught she was. Without another thought, the ginger boy got up from his seat and followed her into the corridor.

“Y/N, wait up!” Fred called out, not quite sure what he was going to say to her. The Slytherin girl slowed down, waiting for her friend to catch up.

When it came to his and Y/N’s relationship, there wasn’t a lot they wouldn’t talk about, but Y/N’s relationship with Adrian was a conversation that was often avoided. Y/N knew how Fred felt about Adrian, so she made an effort to keep the two as separate portions of her life.

“Hi, Fred,” Y/N’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes glossy.

Fred winced. Up until she had started dating Adrian, Y/N always called Fred by his nickname. When Y/N started dating Adrian she pulled away from Fred quickly. He could tell she tried to make everything seem normal, but it wasn’t.

“Is everything alright? You walked out of the Great Hall a bit fast.” Fred said. The pair were now sitting on a bench in the courtyard.

“Just… some stuff with Adrian.” Y/N said, knowing that there was no way that Fred would allow her to leave it at that. There was an ever growing vendetta that Fred had against Adrian, and him hurting Y/N would probably be the worst thing that the Slytherin could do.

“Listen, I know I’m not Adrian’s number one fan, but I’m still your best friend.” Fred said, hoping that Y/N would talk to him. It had been months since the two had chatted about anything of substance and he feared their friendship would fall apart if they kept avoiding each other.

Y/N went silent for a moment, weighing her options in her head. After a short while she looked at Fred and started, “Have you ever been in love?”

The question completely caught Fred off guard. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected Y/N to say, but that wasn’t a question he was prepared to think about.

Sure, Fred had dated around during his time at Hogwarts, but the only person he had ever really loved was Y/N. It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to talk about with her, particularly because he didn’t know how great he would be at concealing his emotions. How terrible would it be for him to confess it to her while she was in a relationship?

Fred nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been in love before.”

“How did you know? What did it feel like?” Y/N asked, looking genuinely curious. Was Y/N truly asking him about this?

Fred looked at her incredulously, speaking once more, “Honestly, love, I think it's different for everyone,” The look on Y/N’s face was unreadable as Fred continued, “for me, I just knew.”

Y/N let out a deep sigh, “I feel like it’s all moving too fast.” There she goes again without any elaboration.

As Fred continued to give her terse answers, Y/N decided she had to describe what she meant. She had never really been great at putting her feelings into words, but she’d try.

“Adrian told me he loved me last night,” Fred’s face faltered, “and I didn’t say a word back.”

Fred wasn’t shocked by the idea that Adrian loved Y/N. The pair had been together for nearly five months, and Fred knew from experience how easy it was to fall in love with Y/N. If anything, it was more of a shock to him that Y/N didn’t say it back.

“But you do love him, right?” Once again, Fred hoped that Y/N would say what he wanted to hear. It was cruel of him to wish that Adrian and Y/N wouldn’t work out, but he couldn’t help it.

“I do,” Dammit. Y/N continued, “but I don’t think I’m in love with him. You know?”

Fred understood completely. He had loved a few of the girls he had dated, but he never felt in love. There was always some sort of hesitation that he had.

“I... just feel like I’m trying to force something that isn’t there,” The frustration was evident in Y/N’s voice. “And I thought that maybe I just needed more time, maybe we were moving too fast, but honestly I just can’t feel the way that I want to about Adrian.”

“Do you think there’s a reason why you can’t love him? You wouldn’t stop talking about him during Christmas break.” Fred said, recalling Y/N’s happiness after Adrian had asked her to the Yule Ball.

“What do you mean? I don’t think I acted any differently about Adrian during break.” Y/N was confused. If anything, Fred was the one who had acted strangely during Christmas break.

“No, I definitely recall you acting funny,” Fred said as Y/N shot him a glare.”You ignored me for two weeks Y/N.” Y/N frowned, shaking her head.

Fred remembered the two weeks in vivid detail. Up until six months ago, Fred and Y/N were attached at the hip. That’s why Y/N’s sudden absence in his life stung. In some way it felt like Y/N had picked Adrian over Fred, but he didn’t know why.

“Fred, I did ignore you, but do you really not know why?” Y/N said.

Once more, Fred tried to remember the events leading up to Y/N and Adrian’s relationship, but everything seemed normal. Adrian and Y/N had always been friends. It wasn’t strange for friends to date.

Fred shook his head, prompting Y/N to tell him what had happened.

It was a week before the Yule Ball, and the cheeriness around the castle was gleaming. The Great Hall was decked out with garlands of tinsel. Mistletoe was hanging in all of the corridors. It was nearly impossible to be unhappy with how much light was around., but as Y/N had watched what felt like the fiftieth person get asked to the Yule Ball, she was feeling less than cheerful.

“Y/N!” Fred greeted, earning an adoring smile from the girl in front of him. She was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, as she had just been working on an herbology project with Neville.

“Hiya, Freddie, what’s up?” Y/N was excited. She and Fred had been spending a lot more time together recently, and she was convinced that he was going to finally ask her out.

Fred smiled, “I need advice. ” Y/N nodded, encouraging the ginger boy to continue, “if you were to get asked to say, a ball, how would you want to be asked?”

Y/N was practically exploding with joy at this point, but alas, Fred still needed an answer.

“Well, for me personally, I’m not fond of the huge gestures. I feel like if you really like someone then you should just… ask? I know that’s a bit boring, but I wouldn’t want everyone to be involved in my business, so public gestures aren’t for me.” Y/N was getting rambly, a clear sign of her nerves.

Before Y/N could ramble anymore, Fred was marching up the dormitory stairs, calling out a short, “Thanks, Y/N!” over his shoulder.

Although Fred’s behavior was strange, Y/N brushed it off as Fred being, well, Fred. The boy often did things that were unexplainable. It wasn’t until dinner that day that Y/N had realized why Fred had asked her about the ball.

“Y/N, c’mon what’s on your mind?” Adrian asked, poking his friend in the side. Y/N was staring down her plate, pushing around peas with her fork. After her encounter with Fred earlier in the day, she had been on edge. The ball was coming up quick, and at this point it was now or never.

“It’s nothing important, don’t worry about me.” Y/N had finally put her fork down, flashing a sad smile at the boy. Adrian looked suspicious, but as he opened his mouth to talk, the pair noticed commotion at the Gryffindor table.

George was ruffling Fred’s hair, and Ron and Harry were laughing. Fred had a smirk on his face, his cheeks tinged a pink color. Just as Y/N was about to approach Fred to ask what the deal was, Fred walked out of the dining hall.

“I’ll be right back,” Y/N told Adrian, before walking to the Gryffindor table to ask George about what was up.

“Hey, George, what was that all about?” Y/N asked as she sat.

“Oh, Freddie boy just asked Angelina to the Yule Ball!” George replied, causing the two other boys to start to laugh again.

Y/N muttered a “thanks” to George before heading out of the Great Hall. She nearly sprinted to the Slytherin common room, not wanting to have a meltdown in the middle of the hall. Y/N was convinced that Fred would ask her to the ball, and it stung like hell to know that he had asked someone that wasn’t her.

When she arrived outside the common room, Adrian was waiting outside for her. Without any question, Adrian outstretched his arms, embracing the teary-eyed girl.

“You wanted me to ask you to the ball!?” Fred asked, mentally slapping himself for being so clueless.

Y/N nodded her head yes, clasping her hands together. She thought she had been very obvious about how she felt about Fred, but it was clear he truly didn’t know.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I never meant to make you upset. Angie and I went as friends anyway.” Fred apologized. He hated seeing Y/N cry, and to think that he was the reason made his insides churn.

While Y/N had cleared up her pre-Yule Ball behavior, there were still a few questions that Fred had.

“Okay, but what does any of that have to do with Adrian? If you wanted me to ask you out, why did you start dating Adrian?” Fred asked, despite knowing how forward all of those questions were.

Y/N sighed, this wasn’t the part of the story that she was particularly proud of.

“Other than you and George, Adrian is probably my closest guy friend. After I heard about you and Angie, Adrian was the person who comforted me while I was crying. I think somewhere along the lines I got my feelings for him all confused…” Y/N trailed off.

“Adrian was sort of an escape from everything. I thought that if you were dating Angie it would stop whatever friendship we had going. It felt like I got knocked off of some weird pedestal.” Y/N’s explanation made some sense, but it didn’t explain why she wouldn’t just talk to him.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me, Y/N? We’re best friends.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, “I sort of went down a rabbit hole when I stopped talking to you. I was embarrassed, and Adrian was sweet. But after it all, I think I was trying to emulate whatever feelings I had for you with him. I thought clinging to another person would stop my feelings. Clearly it didn’t work. It was just a bad time.”

From what Y/N was saying, Fred was hoping that this meant something for the two of them. But right now, Y/N was still with Adrian, and neither of them would ever do that to them.

“Y/N, you need to tell Adrian how you feel.” If the two were going to date, it had to be proper. Fred didn’t want to be some sort of secret.

“I did, that’s why I ran off actually. We broke it off yesterday, it was just a lot for me to be sitting with him today…” Y/N was slightly embarrassed.

“There goes your excellent communication skills again, why didn’t you start with that?” Fred teased, earning a groan from Y/N.

“Hey, the knife cuts both ways. If you had just said that you were asking Angie to the ball I would have never gotten my hopes up!” Y/N quipped back, intertwining her hands with Fred’s.

Fred sighed happily, “Is there any chance that you still feel the same way about me?” Fred was sure he knew what she’d say, but this situation had proved the two needed to talk more.

Y/N laughed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m all about you, Freddie.”

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foodieforthoughts · 3 years

Text

Third Time's The Charm

Summary: Walter sweeps you off your feet with his voice, making you both give your romance a third chance.

Pairing: Walter x Reader

Warning: lots and lots of feelings

A/N: This piece includes the song "In case you didn't know by Brett Young". Can you imagine Walter singing? Ugh. Puppy. 🥺

Title: Third Time's The Charm

It was a look of utter disbelief and shock that Walter had all over his face when your friends had extended an invitation to join your group for karaoke night. A bunch of your friends from the station were going to sing the night off at a regular watering hole and they wanted the Detective to join too.

You had awkwardly stood behind the group with your hands in your pocket, unsure of what you were supposed to feel. Things had turned platonic between the two of you after a failed second date. Your sour mood after losing a lead on your case and Walter's ever present love-hate relationship with his ex-wife was a disaster waiting to happen; escalating your budding romance to a halt on that faithful date night.

But your feelings for the grumpy cop never died and your were ninety-nine percent sure he felt something for you too. Although you had never voiced your displeasure, it had hurt you immensely when Walter started dating Rachel. You hated to admit it, but when things went south for the two of them, you had been delighted with a renewed hope of reconciling things with Walter. It was a lack of courage on your part and probably Walter's sheltered persona that had you both only exchanging fleeting glances throughout your days at the station.

After getting coaxed by others to join for a fun night out, Walter had agreed, much to your silent joy. Men being men had huddled together on an adjacent table for majority of the night, leaving you glancing towards Walter more frequently than it was acceptable for friends. Your heart fluttered everytime he caught you looking, sweeping your entire body with tingling warmth. After a series of drinks and everybody getting tipsier by the minute, someone challenged Walter for a song.

"No." He had blatantly refused only for everyone to protest.

"Come on! Don't be a sour puss!" His best friend had exclaimed. You meet his gaze at the same time as he had looked at you. You could see the corner of his mouth twitching to form a smile, the tip of his nose a faint pink and his cheeks flushed from the drinks. He ran a hand through his curls with a sigh, making you wonder if they would feel as soft as they looked against your skin. You had felt a glowing heat spreading to your cheeks as soon as the thought crossed your mind.

A series of hoots and applauses resounded in the bar when he stood up. Walter pulled the lapel of his jacket close, chugging the remnants of his beer before going up to the small stage with a microphone and a computer to select the song. You had no idea if Walter could even sing. It was difficult to make the stubborn man open up; his quirks urging you to fall for him even more and explore his deep seated thoughts.

When the slow strumming of the guitar emitted through the speakers, your group fell silent. The stage was illuminated with soft blue lights above it, fixed to cast a gentle glow on anyone singing. Walter looked angelic despite being build like a strong wall.

You thought you were ready to hear Walter sing, but when his lips parted and the lyrics poured out of his mouth in a string of mellifluous words, your heart skipped a beat.

I can't count the times

I almost said what's on my mind

But I didn't

Walter wasn't looking at you, but it felt like he was speaking directly to you. You felt your heart thump as he continued singing. The reason for him selecting a song that spoke about wanting to tell the person they love but being unable to do so, felt more like a choice than a coincidence. And the way he could sing the song without even looking at the lyrics on the screen, meant he knew this song by heart.

As the song progressed your friends who were recently married, stood up and started slow dancing to the tune. You swayed from side to side with your friend throwing her arm around your shoulder, glancing at Walter who had a rare smile on his face as he sang.

The way you look tonight

That second glass of wine

That did it

Walter looked up to peer at you, stealing your breath and piercing your soul with his glimmering blue orbs. He looked away though when a few other patrons in the bar stood up to cheer Walter on, raising his hand to wave at them. Being a place that the police department frequented, the regular customers must have recognised Walter almost immediately which explained the applause from them.

You've got all of me

I belong to you

Yeah, you're my everything

The way he could hit the notes, it was apparent that Walter could sing, or had been singing all his life. When he sang the bridge of the song, the intensity radiating off his emotions was undeniably transparent. He had one hand on the mic, the other holding the stand with his eyes closed. His foot tapped to the tempo picking up the pace, in sync with your own heart beats.

In case you didn't know

I'm crazy bout you

I would be lying if I said

That I could live this life without you

Even though I don't tell you all the time

You had my heart a long long time ago

In case you didn't know

You couldn't help but silently gasp when he opened his eyes, cerulean beauty digging into yours as he crooned the words. It didn't seem like it was possible, but you could swear that for a moment everyone and everything had just faded away. It was only Walter and you in that room, in that blissful split second, with the symphony of the song playing in the background as he declared his love to you.

The thunderous claps and the accompanying whistles pulled you back to reality as Walter strutted his way back to the tables. The guys patted his back with the ladies complimenting him while you could only smile along.

Walter and you were the last one's to leave, standing on the side of the curb as you bid your friends goodbye. You could hear your heart drumming in your ears with cold shivers running down your back with the wind and your nervousness. Taking a deep breath, you turned slightly to look at Walter who stood towering next to you.

"Hey-"

"I-"

You both spoke at the same time, chuckling awkwardly at the blunder. Walter nodded for you to speak, adjusting his beanie over his curls and pocketing his hands to shield against the wind.

"I didn't know you could sing so well." You rubbed your hands together from the cold but mostly due to the anxiousness.

"Thank you." He flashed a genuine smile before falling silent again. But his eyes bore into yours with an expectancy, finally making you muster up enough courage to speak.

"I know we ended things...in an unpleasant way. But, if you don't mind, I would like to try again." You gulped to wet your throat that had gone dry with anticipation.

Walter smiled at you, taking a step forward until he was right in front of you. Bringing his finger under your chin, he tilted your face up and bent down to capture your lips for a kiss. Your eyes widened at the unexpected, but welcomed, contact. Melting at the fervid passion of his kiss, you moulded against his body and wrapped your arms around his waist.

Walter rested his forehead against yours when your lips parted. His gloved hand felt hot against your cheek with his thumb caressing your skin as he caught his breath. You didn't want to let go for it felt like the thirst for Walter's affection had only grown by ten folds after that kiss.

"Walter," You whispered, resting your head against his chest as he stood up straight, "I take that as a yes. Third time's the charm, right?"

Walter chuckled, the deep rumble in his chest echoing through to your ears. He engulfed you tighter in his arms, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head as the wind howled.

"So I've heard." He said before kissing your forehead and raising his hand to hail a cab.

#walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x you #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fluff #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall #walter marshall nomis #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Permafrost: Chapter 1

Summary: After Virgil agrees to follow Roman into the Imagination, a shift in the weather and an unfortunate misstep sends Virgil plummeting into uncharted waters. If only it didn't take a matter of life or death and a race against time to realize the Prince might not hate him after all.

TW: Drowning, progressing hypothermia, effects of severe cold

Notes: Romantic Prinxiety (pre relationship, they’re pining idiots) Right now I think this will only be a couple chapters, but let me know if I should make a taglist for this story!

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“This is stupid,” Virgil said for the third time in the last ten minutes. “We’re gonna freeze to death.”

It was very clearly pissing Roman off, and if he wasn’t so miserable he’d be grinning like an idiot at the Prince’s clear exasperation. “We’re not going to freeze. Don’t be dramatic, Negative Nancy, that’s my thing.”

Virgil scoffed, glancing up at the expanse of snow covered trees towering overhead, branches bare and twisted, coated in sparkling white. It felt endless, everything around them perfectly identical and a little overwhelming.

He shuddered as the wind picked up again, drowning out anything he might have been about to say, and he absently shook off snow sticking to his shoes, really wishing he’d decided to wear his combat boots today.

Then again, he hadn’t expected to be trapped in the Imagination in below freezing weather.

“Let me complain, Princey,” he said, hoping that their familiar banter could make this whole thing suck a little bit less. “You’re the one that trapped me in here.”

“You’re the one that agreed to follow me,” Roman shot back, a little more sharp than Virgil had been hoping for. “You didn’t have to.”

“You invited me. And someone has to make sure you don’t get killed in here.”

“I’m perfectly capable,” Roman said. “The cold is no match for a dashing Prince! Besides, the beast is dead, my realm is perfectly safe when I need it to be- if it weren’t for someone refusing to enjoy the scenery, this might actually be a nice walk.”

“It’s freezing and we have to walk for another hour,” Virgil argued. “How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this?”

It hadn’t been snowing when they’d first stepped into the Imagination, some two hours ago now. It had been warm and sunny, the world around them lush and green, bright and inviting as Virgil followed Roman on his apparently routine adventure.

He hoped it hadn’t been obvious how excited he’d been when Roman had asked him to come along. He and the Prince had never been close, (that was putting it lightly, Virgil was all too aware of how much Roman hated Anxiety) but ever since Virgil had revealed his name things had been...better.

Not great, nowhere near perfect, but better. Their fights had started to devolve into banter, and Virgil found he actually enjoyed talking to Roman now. He wasn’t reduced to a villain anymore, and he’d never actually realized just how much he hated the tight feeling in his chest when Thomas had always dismissed him as the bad guy. He’d been pushing the hurt down for so long and now…

Now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time to focus on moving forward, as shaky as the progress was sometimes. It was still progress.

Virgil knew Roman didn’t like him, and he probably had no intention of even being real friends, any effort to be polite for Patton and Logan’s sake only.

Which Virgil might have been able to live with, if he hadn’t recently figured out that he really, really liked Roman.

He’d sort of...not actually hated the Prince for a while now, just another hopeless, gnawing feeling that drove him to consider ducking out in the first place.

The feelings had come out of nowhere, slowly sneaking up on him and only growing now that they were closer, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

The things Roman did that Virgil had once thought were annoying became...begrudgingly endearing. His rants, his dramatic gestures, the constant singing and humming under his breath...it was all so stupidly charming. Roman was funny and kind and passionate and brave and...and Virgil might have developed a little bit of a crush.

Dammit.

He knew nothing would come from it. He could be pretty stupid, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. Roman had declared him an enemy since day one, and Virgil was just beginning to hope the Prince might actually tolerate him enough to call him a friend. Just a friend.

But Roman had invited him into the Imagination today, to be an extra set of eyes while he slayed the monster patrolling the realm, and Virgil had agreed without a second thought. If he and Roman could just learn to coexist...Virgil didn’t need anything else. Anything was better than being hated.

And having Roman as a friend was far from the worst thing in the world. It still gave him the Prince’s smiles, his laughs, and his company.

That being said, trudging through the snow and freezing his ass off for the next hour was not how he’d like to be spending the day. Why couldn’t Princey invite him to do something normal like watching a movie?

“Aren’t you supposed to be Creativity?” Virgil called over the wind picking up. God, it was cold. “Why can’t you just change the weather back?”

Roman had his back to him, keeping a few paces ahead, but Virgil could practically feel his eye roll. “I don’t control the weather here. Thomas does.”

“Thomas?”

“Not intentionally,” Roman said. “When it’s snowing like this, it probably means he’s worried or…or stressed about something.”

Virgil didn’t miss the slight hesitation, the way Roman glanced back at him, and he instinctively hunched his shoulders and pulled his hood tighter around himself.

It wasn’t his fault. He knew everyone liked to point fingers and place the blame on Anxiety whenever Thomas wasn’t feeling his best, but Virgil wasn’t here to hurt him. He just wanted to help, and he’d been trying so hard to be better lately, but he still managed to be the bad guy.

He opened his mouth to mutter an apology the Prince would probably only scoff at, but Roman beat him to it.

“Ignore that,” he said quickly, tone suddenly nowhere near his usual bravado. “I didn’t mean to imply...nevermind. Sorry.”

It was clearly forced and a little desperate, just like it had been in front of the others whenever Roman would catch himself on an insult or a nickname, but Virgil found he appreciated the effort all the same. As awkward as it was.

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. “Seriously, it’s whatever. I’ll...I can check on Thomas when we get back.”

Roman didn’t respond, but he did look over once again to flash Virgil a genuine smile, and he forcibly pushed down the butterflies rising up in his chest. It was just Roman. He was not about to get flustered because Roman had smiled at him.

But maybe it was a sign that they were getting somewhere. Maybe-

“Shit!”

Virgil froze, Roman’s curse almost drowned out by the sudden CRACK that echoed through the snowy forest. A chunk of ice broke under Roman’s boot, just big enough for him to stumble, his leg disappearing up to his knee.

“God dammit that’s freezing!”

“I thought the cold didn’t bother you,” Virgil teased before he could stop himself. He moved to help, only for Roman to hold out a warning hand. “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The Prince wobbled a bit before he managed to pull his leg up and out of the ice, the soaked and dripping cloth clinging to his skin. “Except that my leg is going to fall off!”

Virgil couldn’t imagine how cold that must be, to feel icy cold wind against soaked clothes, but he could recognize that Roman wasn’t actually hurt or scared, despite the way he’d started shivering a bit. Thank god the water was only up to his knee.

“Stop panicking,” Virgil said, and smirked despite his own rising worry. “That’s my thing, Princey.”

Roman scoffed and shook out his leg, drops of water seeping into the plush white snow. The ice they hadn’t even realized they’d been walking on creaked under the movement and Virgil paled, eyes flying to Roman who quickly noticed the anxious side’s distress.

“Relax,” the Prince said. “It was just a weak spot, and it’s only a couple inches deep. I could reach the bottom.”

“We should still be worried about getting our clothes wet in this weather.” It seemed to have gotten colder, even as Virgil remained perfectly dry. “Didn’t Logan do a whole lecture about hypothermia a few years ago?”

“We’re not getting hypothermia, Panic at the Everywhere. Logan gives a lecture on everything. Worst case scenario is I come down with a little cold, and our dear Patton feels guilty and smothers me for a few days.”

Virgil laughed, carefully stepping around the hole Roman had created. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Patton’s fault you’re so clumsy.”

“No, but he practically forced me to bring you out here.” And just like that Virgil’s good mood was gone, stomach twisting uncomfortably as the words set in.

It shouldn’t be a surprise- of course Roman wouldn’t voluntarily spend the day with him. Patton wanted everyone to get along for Thomas’s sake, and he’d made Roman drag Virgil along like an unwanted nuisance.

“Oh.”

“So if we look miserable enough when we get back, we can coax Pat into making us cookies and hot chocolate,” Roman said, and he didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s shift in mood. “Just try to watch your step, ok?”

Roman clearly didn’t think he had said anything wrong, only scowling at his now soaking wet pant leg before turning to continue forward. He obviously thought Virgil knew this, that he wasn’t stupid enough to think he was actually wanted.

Well, at least Roman was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even if Virgil apparently was that stupid.

They kept walking, Virgil ending up trailing a bit behind with slightly numb hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets. Roman managed to make it even farther ahead, humming some vaguely familiar tune as he watched the snowfall, and Virgil wondered if he should just let the Prince make the rest of the walk by himself, kind of wanting to just lay down and let the snow bury him.

The wind was picking up, and Virgil was clearly finding it more difficult to trek through the snow than Roman was. The Prince didn’t seem inclined to leave him behind though, slowing down and smiling patiently at the anxious side every few moments, letting him catch up on his own time.

He wondered why Roman didn’t just quicken his pace and leave him. It wasn’t like Virgil would go tell Patton just to get him in trouble. As much as it hurt knowing Roman wanted nothing to do with him, that someone had to make Roman spend time with him, it hurt worse to think that the Prince had just been faking it.

He’d thought...God, he’d actually thought they might be getting somewhere. That maybe, maybe Virgil’s feelings for the Prince weren’t as pointless as they’d once been.

The soft little smiles sent his way, the light touches on Virgil’s back or shoulder, the quiet jokes meant just for him, the way Roman’s eyes would linger for just a second…

He noticed it a second too late, caught up in his own head instead of paying careful attention to where he was stepping like he usually would, only pulled from his thoughts by another ear splitting crack as a piece of ice gave way right where he’d stepped down.

It was sudden and loud, and Virgil yelped when he stumbled and fell to the ground, hands losing feeling completely as they grabbed at the snow and his foot disappeared under the ice.

“Fuck- Roman!”

He heard Roman laugh, but it was almost impossible to make out over the howling of the wind and the pounding of his own heart. The water was so cold, (thank god he’d managed to stop himself before it went past his shin) like a million little knives dancing along his skin, paying no mind to what little protection his clothes offered.

“You’re fine,” Roman called, voice small and distant like he’d kept walking. Virgil didn’t dare look up, eyes on the ground beneath his hands. “It’s not deep, Virge, you can stand up.”

Virgil nodded even though he doubted Roman could see it, his voice refusing to cooperate. He squeezed numb hands into shaky fists, took a breath, and pushed himself up to stand on his free leg.

The next moment happened so fast, Virgil didn’t even register that more ice had broken under his weight until he felt himself falling, and suddenly the icy cold water was much higher than just his leg.

It felt like he’d been hit by a bus- a very, very cold bus- and Virgil gasped as all the ice below him gave way, the water rising up to his chest, wrapping around his body like a vice and yanking him forward without warning.

It was like hundreds of frozen hands were grabbing at him and tugging viciously, shoving him along with the water’s surprisingly violent current while trying to drag him down below the dark surface. Virgil barely had half a second to force his arms to move, frantically reaching for the nearest chunk of intact ice.

He couldn’t feel his fingers, and his hands were shaking so bad he almost didn’t make it, but he managed to get a grip on the edge just in time.

He gasped as he pulled himself to a sudden stop against the relentless current, weakening arms protesting the sudden strain, choking and coughing on the frigid water that managed to lap at the corners of his mouth.

“Princey!” he tried to scream, but he could barely hear himself over the roar of the river. The water hurt, the cold seeping into his skin and stealing his breath, and it took all of his quickly fleeting energy to keep holding on. “Roman!”

There was no response, at least not one that Virgil could hear, and he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to see if help was coming, terrified that if he looked away from his hands he’d forget how to hold on.

He had to strain to keep his head above water, and he felt like there were boulders in his pockets weighing him down. He was left kicking desperately against the water, because it was definitely not shallow enough for him to stand.

Roman had said it was. Roman had laughed and kept walking and he’d...he hadn’t...he hadn’t left, had he? If he’d done this on purpose-

The dread and fear that came with the thought was almost more overwhelming than the thought of drowning, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as he tightened his hold, because Roman wouldn’t do that. He may not like Virgil, but he wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do this.

A grim voice in the back of his head told him Roman wouldn’t care, that Virgil would never be worth worrying about. Maybe it wasn’t the wind and rushing water blocking out the Prince’s voice...maybe he’d really just already walked away.

He choked back tears and put all his fading focus into staying above the water, the current’s pull growing stronger as his kicking became weaker and weaker. He couldn’t keep holding on. It was so cold and he was so tired-

“Virgil!”

Roman? It was so hard to tell for sure, everything distant and hazy compared to the roaring in his ears and his own too shallow breaths.

Oh god, he couldn’t hold on, he was slipping, he was going to fall-

“Virgil! Hold on, I’m coming!” Either that was Roman, or Virgil’s brain was being very cruel to him right before he died. The latter honestly seemed more likely. “Hold on, please just- I’m coming just hold on!”

He couldn’t feel his hands, barely able to comprehend anything around the all consuming pain settled around him like a blanket, leaving him shaking and numb, teeth chattering in his skull louder than a gunshot and he couldn’t do this- he couldn’t hold on he couldn’t-

“Virgil!”

Virgil didn’t even register what had happened, left only to wonder why the strain on his arms had suddenly been lessened for a single blissful second before realizing his frozen hands had slipped from the ice.

There wasn’t time to take another breath, the river seizing its opportunity to rise above his head and push him under the dark and freezing water, everything suddenly horribly silent.

#fanfiction #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #thomas sanders #sanders sides #hurt/comfort #this fic is so self indulgent you guys #writing

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greenninjagal-blog · 3 years

Text

The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means.

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place.

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking?

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his.

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today.

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way.

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan.

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!”

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.”

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.”

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile.

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried.

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life.

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism.

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want!

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart.

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time.

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

“But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much.

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line.

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one.

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!”

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour.

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made.

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them.

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good.

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into.

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog.

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie?

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun.

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,�� Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking.

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable.

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes.

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up.

Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this?

It didn’t matter.

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed.

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good.

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?”

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully.

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

#intrulogical #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #Far too many OCs gross #Rumor Mill Au #rumors #well fake marriage #sympathetic remus #Logan is bad at feelings #so bad #now with more logan angst #Patton is a good friend #This au is so old that I called Janus Dante and I decided to fix that #alcohol #drunk logan

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