#My school painted whiteboard paint on their desks and it’s been the best thing for my ADHD

[annoyingdonutfan]

I made lots of Dante drawings this week.

[leviiattacks]

teacher!levi and teacher!reader headcanons please 🥺

author note :: i expected for this to be better but idk,,, um, you know maybe it’s just me who wishes i executed it better but i wrote this at 3am that’s my excuse. ANYWAY I HOPE U ENJOY ANON :-))) i know it’s not headcanons but here!! also my ask box is always open to feel free to drop by !! 

word count :: 5.4k (after i had to severely cut the word count down because my tumblr wouldn’t let me post the longer version with more detail,,,,)

honestly you’ve never fit in well with the math teachers in particular but you’re still amicable with most

however, there’s one unbearable member of the group that happens to want to play jump rope with your patience constantly

and that person just so happens to be mr ackerman

every single staff meeting the both of you sit furthest away from each other whilst silently exchanging bitter glares

maybe it’s his stony disposition or his unrealistically harsh grading system that makes him seem so off putting to you.

or perhaps it’s your soft and gentle approach to teaching that drives him up a wall

but to make matters simple, the two of you have never got along. nearly everything he says you disagree with and nearly everything you say he has to rebuke.

every outlandish suggestion of his at meetings is met with firm disapproval from you and every time you bring up wanting to provide the children with more time for extracurricular activities he sneers in annoyance

today he’s proposing a plan to set exams as soon as possible

???

you wonder if he’s even thinking with his head attached to his neck because it’ll be impossible for the children to handle all of the content in the form of an exam paper so soon

the workload he’s been pushing onto his math class has become far too ridiculous for your liking and you want to put an end to the man’s reign of terror

it just so happens your classes are scheduled in the blocks next to each other meaning he always sees your students an hour before you do

it’s got to the point where your pupils trudge into english class completely EXHAUSTED

the other day a boy fainted because of lack of sleep and now mr ackerman has the audacity to put forward the exam dates???

“we need to instill these children with discipline. taking them by surprise will give them a much needed reality check.”

you groan at his speech and raise a hand

“may i interject?”

professor ackerman’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek the irritation is painted on his face but he nods although he seems reluctant

“these children do not need standardized exams to-”

“would you like for me to completely scrap exams from the curriculum?” without even allowing for you to present your argument he has to cut you off with a mocking grin

“levi, i think-”

“that's mr ackerman to you.”

his blunt correction has you rolling your eyes because YES!! you understand the two of you aren’t exactly the best of friends but he doesn’t even want to be on a first name basis with a colleague of two years??

his pettiness has your blood boiling in searing displeasure

“you have to stop going so hard on these children.”

he’s shuffling through some paperwork not even batting an eye in your direction.

“personally, we aren’t hard enough but of course the english teacher has trouble understanding that.”

the jab he makes at your job only causes the anger inside of you to bubble up again

why does teaching english have ANYTHING to do with this???

“you teach math yet you can’t calculate the reasoning behind your subpar love life. do not insult english.”

personal insults are your favourite to throw at him because he always gets so riled up

and actually for once you have the answer to a math question.

the reason why his love life is so uneventful has to be because of this :

his personality + his obnoxious humour + his looks = a good looking but undatable man

his jaw clenches and the grip he has on the stack of papers in his hands strengthens

ok,, that is kinda hot but that is not relevant at all

you’re able to make out miss ral one of the other math teachers make a move to speak and god you fight the urge to punch her every day because she’s always gushing about mr ackerman

seeing as you don’t want to punch her or anyone for that matter you turn to give her a “if you speak right now i swear to god i will lose my shit” look

she gets the memo incredibly quickly because her mouth closes shut immediately

mr ackerman takes a sip out of the cup of black tea next to him. “i would appreciate if you just sat back and let me do what’s best.”

“children fainting in my lesson is not what’s best.” your rebuttal catches him off guard and he seems more than a little surprised

“wait- fainted??”

you eyes flick over to mr zacharias, you had told him to pass the message on but the way he’s sheepishly looking at the floor avoiding your eyes clearly tells you all you have to know

“looks like someone forgot to pass the message onto you but the other day falco fainted in english.”

“is he- is he okay?? did he say why?”

eyebrows raising you’re quite surprised to see any sort of reaction from him let alone concern

“he stayed up all night completing your homework.”

lips pressing together into a fine line it almost looks as if he’s guilty

“i’ll talk to him about it later.” his voice is back to its usually plain tone and any trace of his previous worry has been masked.

an awkward silence follows. he coughs choosing to not continue the discussion about exams.

principal smith takes the hint and moves on to discuss planned school trips

HOORAH victory!!!

yet another day where you’ve saved your students

“who is fallacy and why are they pathetic?” a few snorts and giggles are heard around the class and you force yourself to laugh at falco's miserable attempt at a joke

you’ve noticed falco’s been cracking more jokes around his new seat mate gabi.

she’s small but feisty always willing to debate and she’s really a joy to teach although she can get a little bit aggressive with the others at times

honestly it’s quite obvious that falco has a fat crush on her. well, actually it’s been obvious from the moment she step foot into your class

and... you couldn’t just ignore the way falco looked at her could you?? and there was an empty space next to him too sooooo, what harm would there be in placing the two together?

it seems as if your attempt at getting the both of them to talk has worked. gabi and falco compete desperately for the top position in the class and are two of the best students you’ve had in a while

also after the day falco fainted in class gabi has been noticeably nicer. things like asking if he’s drank water or how much he’s slept

you have a small inkling that she may like him back

and the budding romance is adorable to you because you too once had childhood crushes

it feels rather nostalgic to see the two interact

but today you notice the two aren’t in

in fact, you notice half of the class isn’t?

“where are the others?” your question sends a jolt through one of your present students but he stays silent choosing to pretend to clean his glasses as a distraction

crossing your arms over your chest you walk over towards his desk

“udo, you can tell me what it is.”

“professor ackerman said not to tell.” udo looks petrified and you’re just kinda wondering what in the hell is going on

lucky for you his resolve is thin and he quickly cracks under pressure

“okay. you can’t say i told.”

nodding in agreement he looks around making sure no one else hears what exactly it is he’s about to disclose

“he’s kept some people back to talk to them about something top secret. i don’t know what but he asked for the students who like you.”

at that you feel a little bitter because if he asked for the student who liked you why on earth is half the class still here??

but oh well, you guess you can’t please them all

“oh no, no, no. you’ve got it wrong. we all wanted to stay but he didn’t let us.”

udo looks genuine so you let it slide

either way it doesn’t really matter as long as the majority prefer you over that sick and twisted math teacher you’re alright

“he does know he’s cut into my class time right?”

“falco told him that and he whispered something about how you’re bothersome.”

you???? bothersome???

WHEN HE’S THE ONE BOTHERING EVERYONE?/!:£:!/)

you don’t even look back as you walk out frankly furious at what’s happened

english is important

ACTUALLY!!!

ENGLISH > MATH

you will stand by that till the day you die

your knuckle meets with the wooden surface of your sworn enemy’s classroom door and almost automatically you’re able to hear the shuffle of chairs and padding of numerous footsteps approach

the door swings open and you step aside to allow your missing students to pass through

they look nervous but one look at your reassuring smile lets them ease up and relax

“well.” a voice behind you snaps “look who paid me a visit.”

“we’re talking about this later.”

you try your best to sound serious but you don’t know if you pull it off as well as he does because he just ends up giving you a disappointed sort of look

“y/n. stick to being the good cop it suits you better.”

“we are not on first name basis. you said it yourself.” is your narrowed comeback

finally turning to face him you’re surprised when your eyes travel to the triangle of space behind him and you’re able to get a peek of what looks to be a list of books on his whiteboard

pride and prejudice

wuthering heights

jane eyre

ville-

before you’re able to read the rest he moves in front of your line of vision

he’s got quite the selection but,, when did he of all the people on this planet start showing any interest in literature?

“the books on the board what’s that about?”

your inquiry flies over his head and he shuts the door behind him completely

his face doesn’t move and if it does it only shows the slightest hint of confusion

“what books are you talking about?” he replies and don’t know why your knees feel a little weak when he looks you straight in the eyes

snap.

out.

of.

it.

“i saw books on the board.”

“you saw wrong.” he barks back and he’s getting agitated now

maybe you did imagine it...

and you have to get back to teach your class so okay fair enough you’ll let it go because you do know you have a habit of daydreaming randomly

however that doesn’t stop you from giving him another skeptical look before you leave because there is NO WAY you imagined it, but it is you and it really could be a possibility

the click clack of your heels against the floor sound out as you remove yourself from the conversation

you assume he’s returned to his classroom

that’s why it catches you by surprise when you hear a hesitant voice behind you

“there were no books on the board.”

you don’t know why he has to tell you that again because it only makes himself look all the more suspicious

“but if they were a list of book recommendations then what would you recommend i read?”

the question is peculiar coming from him

are you in an alternate universe?

is this a dream?

are you talking to a clone?

a robot?

because this can NOT be the same man you’ve been working with for two years

maybe he’s having a change of heart?

but that sounds unlikely

maybe he’s planning to read the book and somehow with that big brain of his formulate a calculation to score it a measly two out of ten

yeah. that sounds more likely.

nevertheless, you still want to give him a recommendation, maybe he’ll find out he’s into books this way

“you should totally check out pride and prejudice :-)”

for once you’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to do because the change is sudden but he doesn’t say a word after that

instead he retreats into his classroom

god.

now you’re sure he’s just asked to form a stupid calculation or whatever the hell it is math teachers do.

“he likes you.” hange has a shit eating grin on their face and you can’t help but narrow your eyes and sigh in exasperation

no he does not like you but you don’t try to correct hange because you know they’re firm in their stupid belief

“would you ever date him?” hange fiddles with the last of their potato salad absentmindedly waiting on your reply

the question literally has you choking on your lunch

“i would rather fight for survival in the wilderness. thank you for asking.”

“oh come on... he’s got a thing for you. you read romance novels all the time you should be able to tell he does.”

“yeah and that thing he has for me is wanting to shove my head onto a pitchfork. you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” shoving a piece of pasta into your mouth you sigh dreamily at the taste. it serves as a momentary distraction

you get one lunch break and you are not!!!! in the mood to talk about him whilst you’re on that break

he’s attractive

and you have to admit he looks handsome in his crisp white button up and pristine black suit AND his cologne is really...

okay, you are digressing from the point

none of what you just said means anything!!!

at surface level he seems like a catch but it’s what’s on the inside that matters and he said he finds english stupid

that’s more than enough of a reason to dislike the guy?

he thinks stuff like the pythagorean theorem and y = mx+c are entertaining

y = mx+c ??? over literature???

you read books to teach and you read books for your own enjoyment

it would be a complete travesty if you had a crush on a book hater

and levi ackerman most certainly can be classed as a book hater.

a pessimistic book hater if the specifics are needed

“OH! SORRY Y/N GOTTA BLAST MOB’S OVER THERE!!!!!”

you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye because hange makes an eager run towards moblit

hange and moblit are inseparable, both are the shared heads of the science department and since he’s been off on sick leave recently you understand why hange’s rushed off to greet him

you wish you had a teacher friend like that but the sad truth is you’re pretty much a lone wolf. the other english teachers are wrinkly old pickles and talk about antiques or quiz shows :-(

“this seat free?”

no way.

it’s not him

it can't be

what does he even want??

“um, well yeah it is free b-.”

“good.” he takes the seat without you even inviting him and now you’re stuck in an awkward situation you didn’t even expect to be in today

you're about to burst into tears because is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch period???

mr ackerman clears his throat and places a book in the center of the table. “pride and prejudice although not my cup of tea was... mildly enjoyable.”

wait...

is this him...

admitting defeat!??

HELLLOOOOO

you are over the moon right now because you know he really had to have enjoyed it a lot and is simply choosing to withhold that information for his own reputation

“i’m happy to hear you took a liking to it.” you’re munching away at your pasta a little more upbeat now

“okay but the start of the book assuming all single men want a wife? no, all i want is a good night’s rest for once. also mrs bennet needs to calm down, elizabeth can marry who the hell she wa-”

“someone’s a little passionate aren’t they?” you giggle into your glass of water and you catch mr ackerman frowning

“i liked it okay.”

“i thought you said it was only mildly enjoyable just now?” grinning and looking at him through your lashes his cheeks become red

you guess he’s angry or something but that’s the usual with him

“yeah, whatever. i just wanted to play fair and apologise.”

“apologise?” oh wow, now your interest has really peaked because never in the past two years has he apologised to ANYONE

not even principal smith for the one time he flipped out and nearly cursed at a mouthy student at parent's evening

grimacing a little before he does it he finally speaks again.

“english is important. i’m sorry.”

your lips tug up into a bright smile

well???

this is a great interaction??

an apology coming out of levi ackerman of all people

“apology accepted! i’m glad to know you liked the book but now that we’re a tad bit friendlier with each other i wanted to ask for a favour.” your eyes gleam and he swears he can see specks of shining stars in them

“...okay, it depends.”

he’s warming up to you so he considers it

“please don’t cut into my lesson time levi.” his name slips out of your mouth but it’s so natural you don’t even care to correct yourself

“i’m sorry about that too y/n.” your name now ventures out of his mouth too as it tests the waters

wordlessly the two of you agree to first name basis

BUT more important matters are at hand such as how he’s issued you yet another apology?

this is satire surely

because why is he so willing all of a sudden...?

well, that's the power of pride and prejudice, wow you’re really thanking the heavens for blessing this world with jane austen’s existence

jane austen. a woman capable of remarkable things, she's even managed to make an unmoving book hater somehow become a lover

poking at your tuna pasta you and levi are now quiet.

“soooooo, any opinions on mr wickham?” you ask the question hoping to initiate a longer conversation than before

and luckily for you your attempt works

SUCCESS!!

levi pinches the bridge of his nose and the creases on his forehead show he clearly isn't particularly fond of wickham

“don’t get me started he’s so indescribably annoying?”

ok, ok, ok

you don’t even know how it happens but you and levi really hit it off

weeks have passed and you and him have even become lunch buddies

it was so shocking to moblit at first that he dropped his lunch on the floor when he saw you and levi enthusiastically exchanging words

then again, two mr wickham haters are bound to get along

you’re seriously wondering how the two of you ever survived as mortal enemies

yeah, you still disagree a lot but you’re getting there!!

sometimes he helps you out when your computer stops running and in exchange you’re willing to offer him book recommendations

he swears he doesn't want any recommendations from you but you know he enjoys it

yesterday he got microsoft excel out and showed you how useful it really was and you went :O because you never really understood the need for it at all

you’re a little bit of a granny when it comes to tech...

and just today at lunch you recommended he checks some plays out but his nose wrinkled at the mention of shakespeare so the both of you went through a long list of dramas and eventually you were able to interest him in j.b. priestely's an inspector calls

another victory for you!!

anyway, right now the two of you are sitting inside of the staff room seeing as it's that time of the month again.

time for the monthly staff meeting

it's the first one you've had since you and levi became friends and you're worried the both of you will be back at it butting heads

wait, are you friends?

well, you wouldn't mind if that were the case but to be honest you would like to be a little bit more than friends mayb-

no!!! no!!! no!!! stupid thought!!! you retract that statement immediately

no you do not want to be more than friends with levi ackerman, yes he's lovely to a degree but you are not going to elaborate on why it's a terrible idea to fancy him

okay wait, let's elaborate for the sake of elaborating

he's surprisingly charming and wittier than you thought he would be. the fun conversations are making your days now and to be honest it is nice to have someone to spend lunch with (hange usually skips out on lunch all together to tinker in the science labs and set up experiments)

wait... weren't you suppose to explain why you don't want to get with him?

you're an idiot and you don't notice how dumb you really are until everyone just kinda gawks at the both of you because it's so odd seeing you in the same room let alone within a three feet radius of each other.

fuck, you completely forgot you and levi sat at opposite ends of the room

principal smith enters and even he looks visibly shocked at the change in seats but he doesn't mention it and you're grateful he doesn't because you didn't purposefully sit here it just happened on accident

erwin turns in your direction and smiles

"would you like to start off with your proposition for extracurriculars?"

nodding your head you begin passionately.

"well, i'd like to say i don't think we offer the children enough. we have spare funding so why not open another club? cooking perhaps? i understand many of you may not understand the importance of teaching them how to cook but-"

"do you have an obsession for setting these children up for failure?" tensing up you notice it's levi who's spoke and he doesn't sound remotely happy

blinking once and then twice he realizes his tone isn't the best and he mutters an apology "sorry, go ahead i'll add in when you're done."

whispers travel through the room straight away

"did he just say sorry?"

"actually why are those two sitting together?"

"do you think they're you know...?"

miss ral who's sat a little further away is the next person to disagree with you

"i understand the intention but would it not be better to let them have extra math lessons?"

"oh, so you can get a pay rise?" the comeback you make is aggressive and dripping in displeasure

she sits up face burning up

"no- no- absolutely not i take pleasure in teaching all of my classes." flustered and trying to hide her nerves she takes a sip out of her water bottle

you want to pour all of the water out onto that ginger hair of hers

the reason why her interjection is getting on your nerves is due to the fact you overheard her and another one of the math teachers plan to bring this specific point up

and you are well aware that her reasoning behind it has nothing to do with the children

she couldn't care less about them

"do not make me repeat what you and mr bozado were chit chatting about earlier today."

the threat is enough to silence her and just when you think you've handled the situation levi has to give his input

"let's ignore petra's motivations and talk about how teaching these kids how to cook means nothing if they have no tradable skills to offer in the real world." levi's not looking at you. he's either too annoyed or too preoccupied with his thought process

at that moment you feel naive, you thought maybe he would try to understand your opinion seeing as he's been spending so much time with you as of recent but that looks to not be the case

murmurs of agreement fill the room at his statement and you feel pathetic

it's practically the entire room against you now

genuinely how is it these people can manage to be such spoiled sports about everything?

"recently, i asked all of my classes to write an essay about school stress. maybe you won't understand my views because you haven't read their pieces but they need a fucking break." the expletive flies out of your mouth without warning and you flush in embarrassment

that

was

not

professional.

"oh god, i'm sorry i got worked up i shouldn't hav-" fumbling over all of your words you feel even more mortified

the principal raises his hand signalling you stop and you clamp your mouth shut. you're in huge trouble that's for sure

but,,, in spite of the clear difference in opinion between you and the other teachers, soft and well spoken principal smith says the unthinkable

"i have the final say and i believe you are coming from a good place after reading your student's work. how would you feel about running the new cooking club?"

scanning his face for a second you can tell his question is legitimate and the wave of relief that washes over you has never felt better than ever

sighing contently you agree and as the topic of conversation shifts to something else entirely you sense your heart rate picking up

you feel like you're back to square one with levi.

it's yet another day where you’ve saved your students and you should be feeling overjoyed but if anything you feel a little deflated

you wish he would have come around and understood but you can't teach and old dog new tricks

again, the feeling of disappointment wears you down

two weeks have passed since then and your favourite time of year has come. it’s spring term meaning MACBETH

the english curriculum includes plays and it just so happens that today is your first lesson covering shakespeare

and you LOVE shakespeare

something about all the intricate foreshadowing always has you excited

but some children are missing

and it’s way too many to blame on sickness

so you wait for a few minutes but it's consistently radio silent

the last time this happened the culprit had been levi and he promised to never cut into your lesson time

but you could count on him to break his promise after the fiasco that was the monthly meeting

is he back to hating you and hating literature?

well, that's his loss if that's the case!! and no!! you will not upset yourself over the loss of the budding friendship

sighing you get to your feet making a beeline to the door but gabi and falco rush to stop you

awkward chuckles activated they wave their hands to get your attention “OH NO, they’ll only be five minutes!!” their sentence comes out as one big blur of words but you manage to understand them

now you’re doubtful because you know falco and gabi would usually ignore you and allow you to walk out

giving them a knowing glance the pair look between each other

their eyes are clearly communicating and asking if it’s alright to tell you

“i promise i won’t be mad.” you sigh

perhaps if you reassure them they’ll be more likely to spill the beans

“it’s not that you... i don't know. you might be upset.” gabi isn't one to care much for other's feelings so you're slightly anxious even though you shouldn't be

but you’re a tough nut to crack. so, absolutely not. you are not going to upset yourself over whatever it is

“i won’t be hurt. i’ve suffered through reading some of the most emotional classics to ever exist.” hitting your chest with your fist you wince a little because you hit yourself a little too hard

falco’s seems to be too shy to come out with it so gabi takes the lead as she normally does

“some students were talking badly about you so mr ackerman kept them behind to have a talk.”

oh.

yeah, actually you are a teeny weeny bit disheartened because you think you’re nice to all of your pupils but it’s nothing too bad, not everyone will like you

“if that’s all i’ll go get them. thank you for letting me know.” giving them two thumbs up you leave the class immediately

levi is probably scolding them to hell and back

not because he cares for you but because he hates disrespect in general

as you’re nearing the open door of his classroom you hear something you never thought would emerge from levi’s room

“final question. why does mr darcy say he doesn’t want to dance with elizabeth at first?” oh yeah, that’s levi’s voice for sure

an english question?

is he quizzing them on pride and prejudice?

you wait hoping your students don't fail you and are able to provide the correct answer.

“ummm... she’s not pretty enough!!”

levi hums “you answered all five questions right. do you all know why?”

you can’t see the children’s faces but they have to be confused if there’s no immediate response

he grunts in agitation “because your english teacher works hard to teach you every single day. have some respect because that teacher of yours is one in a million.”

taking your bottom lip in between your teeth you fight the urge to smile

“do you know how at every single staff meeting there’s only ever one teacher fighting for you all and what you want. i can assure you that teacher isn’t me, but i believe you can all guess who i'm talking about.”

your heart does a back flip in your chest and you feel jittery but in that really fuzzy good way

like that super duper fuzzy and hazy good way

he’s really very sweet for saying all of this and you're now smiling like an idiot

one pupil takes a chance to make amends “we’re sorry mr ackerman.”

but before levi can give them a response you clap your hands together and walk in unannounced 

“apology accepted, now if you want to all be forgiven forever please return to class and answer the questions on the board!” directing them to the door with your hands you make sure they're conscious fo the fact you aren't mad at them

still, never have you seen them so eager to run off to analyze macbeth. you guess levi's deathly stare is the cause for it

holding back a laugh you clear your throat after the last student leaves

“thank you levi :-)”

it’s quiet for a second and you think to ask him about what has been gnawing at your mind

“you didn’t have to do that. you disagreed with me before so... why did you?”

“i say this at every meeting and you never listen but children need to be disciplined.” his unchangeable tone is unwelcoming

again it’s awkwardly silent and you sorta regret even coming over to see what was going on because now you and levi are just having an uncomfortable staring contest

then he scratches the back of his neck and heaves a heavy breath

“it may also be because i really fucking like you, but i look like an idiot saying that when we’ve been at each other's necks for two years.”

oh.

the sudden and brutally honest confession has the wind knocked out of you, you’re stunned

and then you get hit by it too. the realization hits you like rain hits umbrellas on stormy days. you like him too.

you like him for his witty sense of humour, his pure honesty and his hatred for mr wickham only serves as a bonus

yes, you have your differences. many of them. but you like him

he’s no longer a book hater and so by default you can fancy him. he goes against none of your guidelines essentially

you like him, he likes you back?’//’.;

[SCREAMS]

“well, what do you say? will you be this mr darcy's elizabeth bennet?” hearing the cheesy pickup line from him of all people has the butterflies in your stomach exploding in delight 

“you sound weird, where's the grumpy math teacher from before?" now you and him are simply shamelessly flirting but HEY!! you have no complaints at all

he scoffs at your sarcastic question

"do you want the equation for a two dimensional heart on a graph beca-"

"can i just kiss you?"

wOWIE are you being bold today y/n???

thankfully you don't have to wait for his answer. levi’s right hand pulls your face in and he slams his lips against yours. he gives your waist a squeeze and you hold him tighter by the neck in response. he has a way of somehow making it all feel gentle and relaxed in the same breath

and... you know what? maybe you should have recommended pride and prejudice to him earlier

but oh well.

what matters the most right now is that you're kissing your mr darcy!!

and he’s kissing his elizabeth bennet

:-)

[inkybinkyboink]

alright no thoughts head empty just clopin as an elementary school teacher bc thats what its come to i am cringe but i am free

at first he was like “i would never become a teacher” like 100% had his mind set on other careers

but then after a while he was like skkkdfjkfjgjnmmmmmm maybe it wouldnt be so bad

and then he did his substitute teaching hours and it all kind of really grew on him

and then he applied at an primary school in the area and they hired him to teach little grade 2 kiddies

he arrives in like mid-august and immediately after his first day he’s like “esmerelda we have to go staples and walmart oh my god my classroom is a mess i bet the person who taught before me was the math teacher” or something like that

he gets permission to repaint his classroom from this boring white to this really soft gentle yellow 

he cleans the chalk and whiteboards and repaints the chalkboards with this black chalk paint instead of green

painstakingly puts little fabric grips on the bottoms of every single desk and chair so that they dont scrape across the floor so loudly. 

he puts the desks in cluster squares of 4 and then tapes little name tags to all the little assigned seats. 

man gets a fuck ton of lamps so he doesnt have to worry about the fluorescents bothering anyone including himself.

has a corner with beanbags and stuff and comfy chairs 

a big ass bookshelf full of books that kids can take from as they please 

he gets so nervous the night before that everything’s gonna go to shit and the kids wont like him 

spends the first week of school making sure everyone’s settled in, takes a good chunk of time to introduce himself, simple things the kids can understand. little cool facts like “ive been to 4 different countries” and “my best friend has a pet goat”

he tells them like “ive assigned your seats for you but if you really really dont like them we can definitely switch you around”

he makes sure to keep things like,,,stimulative? like if its nice out they go outside to learn, or instead of making them read independently he reads them a book. they have movie fridays

he has plants in the window

man is so patient

doesnt get annoyed at the kids being loud or chaotic bc he knows theyre kids and they have a lot of energy and if theyre mimicking like internet trends its bc theyre again, kids and that’s part of learning in a fucked up way

he’s always there for them. like constantly. they need something clopin has it. a kid is sad? mr. trouillefou has a pep talk and a jolly rancher waiting for you

this might be self projecting but he never does anything competitive. like everyones a winner in his class

he brings in “special guests” to tell them about stuff and its just phoebus answering questions like “had you ever fight anybody?” 

man is the first to volunteer if theres a field trip hes a sucker for those

he has a little drawer of snacks incase kids forgot to bring something

worries about his kids too and worries he didnt show each and every one he cares for them enough 

knows theyre getting too old for nap time but still ocassionally has little meditation sessions where he asks them to get comfortable anywhere in the classroom and he goes around and walks and talks and “i just want you to breath for a moment and know that here you are safe, and loved, and cared for.” and just have a moment of downtime.

his boyfriend popping in and bringing like doughnut holes for all the kids a couple times a year.

oh my god he brings in his dog and its just this incredibly gentle golden retriever who loves all the kids and lays down by their desks to keep them company 

ok that is all goodbye

[sunmoonandeddie]

don’t forget to sing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,973

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  An alley is six feet apart, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, mention of sickness

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

This was just fucking perfect.

Of course.  Of course you’d move to New York City three weeks before a fucking pandemic.  Cities were a cesspool for illness, and the Big Apple was no exception.

Your dreams of going out and exploring the city and finding little spots that you could call your own now that you were a real New Yorker and not just a tourist anymore were gone.  You’d been so busy unpacking and getting set up at your new job that you’d only gotten to go out for groceries.

And now all of New York City was shut down.  Broadway was closed, for heaven’s sake.  You couldn’t remember a time when that had ever happened in your lifetime.

It was mildly terrifying.  And by mildly, you meant extremely.

Thankfully, your job was primarily online anyway.  You were a playwright and you were basically an intern and assistant for Tony Kushner, possibly one of the greatest playwrights of all time.

But you were lonely.  At least before you were ordered to stay home, you could go out and get a little human interaction at the grocery store, even if the cashier was just telling you your total.  But now, everyone at the grocery store eyed each other warily.  Like you’d infect them with the virus at any second.

Which, it was possible.  It was why you only went late at night in order to avoid most of the crowds.  And also why you’d sewn a mask out of an old t-shirt in order to protect yourself.  And also why you’d stocked up on groceries so you wouldn’t have to go for about two weeks.

“I don’t know,” you said as you held the phone to your ear, wandering back and forth in your tiny little apartment.  Your best friend was on the other side, a thousand miles away.  “It’s getting really bad here.”

And, of course, she could try to understand, but Hope was all the way across the country.  She’d gotten a job in her hometown in California after graduation.  “I think we’re starting to head that way, too.  Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so,” you said, trying to be cheerful as you sat at your desk, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “I’m used to being alone, remember?  I’m a writer.  All I need is coffee and my laptop and I’m ready to hibernate.”

Hope let out a sigh, and you could hear the creak of her bed as she laid down.  “I don’t know.  I just think that maybe you should come out here.”

“I can’t.  I don’t have that kind of money.  And I just got here.  I don’t want to run away at the first sign of trouble,” you said as you opened up your laptop.  “Besides, I’m probably safer here locked away in my apartment by myself than I would be in your big house with you, your parents, and Scott.  Your parents work in a lab with hundreds of other people.  They have no idea if any of them have it.  It’d probably be safer for you to come stay here with me.”

“Me in that shoe box?” She scoffed.  “As if.”

Your laptop whirred to life as you ran your finger back and forth over the mouse pad.  “We talked about this.  You’re a California girl.  I’m New York.”  A smirk settled over your face as you cradled the phone between your ear and your shoulder, typing in your password.  “Two households, both alike in dignity—”

“Jesus, theatre kids are the worst,” she muttered.

You barked out a laugh as you pulled up your latest word document.  “I’m a grown woman, you know.”  You reached over your desk and opened up the curtains, figuring you could use a little change of scenery, even if it was just the apartment building across the alley.  The red brick was illuminated by the setting sun, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold.

There���s a tense pause between the two of you.  There’s a lot of unspoken words.

The both of you know that this is serious.  People are dying and there’s nothing the two of you can really do except hope and stay inside as much as possible and wash your hands.  And this is the first time the two of you have lived apart since your sophomore year of university.  It’s a big change and of course, all this happens right when you’re on your own.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hope asked, her voice cracking.

Taking in a shaky breath, you rest her head in your hand.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll be okay.  You just worry about staying healthy yourself, okay?  And take care of your parents.”

Her parents were both a little older, and they were at risk with everything going around.  They’d become your second family in the years since you’d first met Hope, and had even let you live with them for a while after graduation while you saved up for your move to New York City.  Hell, they’d paid for you to come spend school breaks with them.  They were your family.

And now you were all alone with no way to get to them.  Even if you did want to fly, all incoming and outgoing flights were being canceled.  They hadn’t officially announced that they’d be closing the airports, but it was coming.

A light in the apartment across the alley from yours flicked on, and your eyes were immediately drawn to it.

“Oh…,” you breathed out, accidentally cutting off what Hope was saying.

“What?”

“There’s a…  There’s a man.”

“A man?!  We are in a pandemic!  There’s no dating in a pandemic!”

You went quiet as your elbow rested on your desk, your chin in your hand.  “He’s… gorgeous.”

And gorgeous, he was.  He looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower, with the towel swung low on his hips.  Dark hair was smattered across his broad chest like some hero on the cover of a trashy romance novel.  He ran his fingers through his long, damp hair as he opened up the drawers of his dresser, picking out boxers and sweats.

“God…  He looks like he just walked off a photoshoot with, like… Vogue,” you said quietly.  Drool was starting to drip from the corner of your mouth, you were so entranced.

“Wait…  Really?” Hope said, her voice rising.  “I need details!  Now!”

Brows furrowed, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.  “You have a boyfriend.”

“Who I haven’t gotten to see in over a week.  Scott is the love of my life, but I need to live vicariously through you,” she said.  “The most romance we have right now is when his internet actually works and we get to FaceTime.”

You were in a trance, just watching him move around his room.  “You know how cute I thought Jimmy Woo was?  He was in my Econ class and then we went on, like… two dates?”

“Yeah.”

“I would feed Jimmy Woo to a pack of hyenas if this man asked me to.”

But of course, nothing good could last.  Your elbow slipped off the edge of the desk and your face slammed down onto the wood.  “Oh, my god,” you groaned as you fell to the ground, clutching your mouth.  “Holy fuck…”

Hope was shouting at you through the phone, demanding to know whether or not you were okay.  She was more frantic than you’d ever heard her.

Pulling your hand away from your face, you winced as you saw the dark red blood.  “Shit. Shit, shit, shit…”  You didn’t think you’d knocked out a tooth, thank god.  You were sure that you’d be able to feel that.  “Yeah…  I think I’m okay.”  You started to pull yourself up, glaring at the blood that was on the edge of the desk.

But when you found the Most Handsome Man in the World staring at you from his window, looking just as worried as Hope sounded in his towel, you quickly ducked back down, willing him to go away.  You don’t think you’d ever been so embarrassed.

“Hope, I’m going to throw myself from the Brooklyn Bridge,” you hissed into the phone as you sat on the floor, leaning against your desk.  “He saw me bust my face open!  Or he heard it!”

There’s a pause, and then a snort.  “You have to admit, it’s kinda funny.  And the type of thing that would only happen to you.”

“Gee, I’m so happy you’re having fun with this,” you said.

You stayed down there for an extraordinarily long time, hoping to whatever god was out there that he’d stop looking.  When you finally emerged from your hiding place, you found that he was watching a movie with his bedroom light off, his eyes completely focused on the television.

And there was a whiteboard leaning against the window, messy scrawl in blue marker.

Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too bad!!  And I’m glad you enjoyed the show ;)

More than a little appalled at how blatant he was, you grabbed a piece of notebook paper and a Sharpie, writing out your reply before sticking it to the window with a piece of tape.

Nothing but a busted lip and broken pride :(

You shut your curtains, carefully cleaning your wound before getting to work on your latest writing assignment.  Though occasionally, you could remember the strange interaction and a smile would creep across your face.

Which would then cause you to wince in pain as the cut on your lip came open again.

Right before you went to bed, you peeked out of your curtains to see if he’d replied again.

Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what I saw :)  Goodnight!

You quickly wrote out a reply, taping it up before heading to bed.

Pinky promise?  Goodnight!

When you woke up, there was already another note left for you, and the man seemed to be gone.

Good morning!  I hope your lips feel better!

You had no idea when he’d be back or why the hell he’d left.  It was a pandemic after all.

Granted, a lot of people still had to work in this whole mess.  It was ridiculous.

Feeling a little bold, you wrote out a message.

You wanna kiss it better?

But you quickly crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it away.  Despite the fact that you’d seen him almost completely naked the night before, you didn’t know him.  He’d only said three sentences to you so far, and they were written out.

It was the quarantine equivalent of sliding into someone’s direct messages on Twitter or Instagram.

Should you even reply?  He was…  He was the kind of guy you saw on Love Island.  Too perfect and too ripped and sweet and mysterious and friendly, all at the same time.

You’d been getting into a lot of shows you wouldn’t have watched before while quarantined.  You’d watched the entire first season of the American version of the show, and you’d probably start the United Kingdom version sometime that day.  It wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

“Have you written back to him?” Hope asked as you set up your laptop on your desk, pulling up Spotify.

“What?” You asked, your phone cradled between your ear and your shoulder.  “No.  It was a one time thing.  It’s done.”  Before she could reply, you said your goodbyes and hung up.  You really needed to clean and that wasn’t going to happen if you chattered away on the phone with Hope like you usually did.

Music blasted from your laptop’s speaker after you hit play, and you threw open the window, letting the late winter air in.  It had started to get really stuffy in your apartment and you needed something to do other than work and binge watching or you’d go insane.

You didn’t even notice that your neighbor that lived across the alley had come home, and was watching you with a delighted smile on his face.

You were half-dancing, half-cleaning, belting out the lyrics without a care as you got more and more into it.  “Didn’t even know it!  No punches left to roll with!  You got to keep me focused!  You want it?  Say so!” You sang, twirling around with your trash can in hand as you picked up all the various little items.  “Let me check my chest, my breath right quick!  He ain’t ever seen it in a dress like this!  He ain’t ever even been impressed like this!”

Unseen by you, the mysterious stranger took a few steps forward, grateful that he’d left his window open.

“Prolly why I got him quiet on the set like zip!  Like it, love it, need it bad!  Take it, own it, steal it fast!  Boy, stop playin!’  Grab my ass!  Why you acting like you—”  You turned around, breaking off with a squeak as you saw him standing there watching you, your trashcan and an empty mug in hand.  You were completely frozen as he stared at you with a slight smile, leaving you a deer in headlights.

Suddenly, you were hyper aware of just how awful you looked.  Your hair hadn’t been washed, or your face.  You were wearing a men’s two XL hoodie that you’d stolen from some guy you’d fucked for a few months in college and a pair of sweatpants that you’d had since you were on the middle school track team that were still too long in the feet.  You’d done shot put and discus.

Why the fuck were you thinking about shot put and discus?  You hadn’t thought about it over twelve years.  It wasn’t like you were ever any good at it.

The Most Handsome Man in the World was staring at you, holding a takeout box at a mug of tea.  But at least he was fully dressed, even if that didn’t awake away from how attractive he was.  “Hey,” he said with an easy smile.

“Hi.”  Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you’d never wanted to slam your head against the wall more.  How could you be this much of a fucking loser?

“I like your music choice.  Who is that?” He asked curiously as he set his food on the bed, kicking off his shoes before sitting down.

Yeah, he was definitely just as attractive fully clothed as he was naked, which was truly a feat in itself.  Surely there was some kind of award for that, right?

You realized you’d been staring at him in silence and coughed, replying, “Doja Cat.”

“How’s your lip?”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The two of you stared at each other, him happily munching on the chicken nuggets he’d picked up.  You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m James,” he said after swallowing.  “But my friends call me Bucky.”

You gave him your name as you slowly moved a few steps closer, sitting down in your desk chair and pulling your knees up to your chest.  “What kind of a name is Bucky?”

He chuckled, dipping his next nugget into the sweet and sour sauce.  “My middle name is Buchanan.  My best friend, Steve, started calling me Bucky when we were in kindergarten, and I don’t know… it just stuck.”

“I mean…”  You shrugged, wrapping your arms around her legs.  “‘S alright.  I like James though.”

“You can call me James.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

It felt intimate, somehow.  Calling him by his first name.

The quarantine was forcing people to revert back to Victorian ways of social conduct.  If you were lucky, you’d get your own Mr. Darcy.

But with the sweats you had on, it was more than likely that you’d end up an old spinster.

How did he find it so easy to talk to a complete stranger?  Granted, you were a lot less intimidating than he was.

“How’s your lip?” He asked, his head tilting to the side as he peered over at you.  “You don’t need stitches, right?”

There was an unspoken worry there.  Needing stitches meant you’d probably go without, since all the hospitals were so backed up with those that had fallen ill.  And going to the hospital just meant you’d risk your own health by coming in close contact with those going to get treated for Covid-19.

“If you do, I have a first aid kit I keep here in my apartment with the stuff to do stitches,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  “But I wouldn’t exactly be able to come over there to help you.  You’d have to do the stitches yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.  “Why do you have the stuff to do stitches in your first aid kit?  I did see this one episode of one of those crime shows where they used safety pins to hold a gash open, but I can’t remember what show it was.”

Mirth sparkled in his eyes as he watched you.  “I’m a nurse.”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing.  But then you remembered, and your heart sank.  “Oh.  I… James.”

James looked rather sheepish as he looked down at his feet.  “It’s nothing really.  But I can’t use the elevator since it would risk someone being in an enclosed space with me.  So… you know.  I don’t really need leg day, right?”  He let out a weak laugh, clearly trying to blow it off.  “I’m not allowed to use the gym anymore.  Not that I would.  I don’t want to risk infecting anyone, even if I don’t have it yet.”

The way he said ‘yet’ hurt your heart.  He knew the position he was in, how dangerous it was.

There was nothing you could really say to him.  What the hell could you say?  Thank you for your service?  Technically, you could, but you remembered how your dad had felt about it.  He’d been a field doctor over in Afghanistan until he’d died on his fifth tour.

“I was just doing what needed to be done, sweetheart,” he’d said to you when you’d asked.  “Trying to save as many people as possible.  I don’t need thanks for that.”

But fuck.  James was going out everyday to fight an opponent that he couldn’t see.

“My lip is fine,” you said eventually, breaking the silence with a weak smile.

“Good,” he said, clearing his throat.  “I’ll let you get back to your solo concert.  I’ve gotta shower.”

Things went on as normally.  Or, at least, as normal as things could be in a time like that.  Only now, you had someone to talk to that wasn’t Hope every night.

He wouldn’t tell you about what it was like at the hospital though.  He’d get this far away look in his eyes and his face would pale.  “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, darlin,’” he’d croon, a sad smile on his lips.  “You let me worry, and you just keep yourself safe and inside, okay?”

Sometimes you’d miss him.  He’d be at the hospital for days on end, sleeping in on-call rooms and eating from vending machines.  That’s when you’d leave little notes all over your window for him to read when he got back.

But then one day he came home and you could just tell that he was more worn down that usual.

“James?” You called out softly as you pushed the window open.  You hadn’t seen him in two days.  “Are you okay?”  You leaned half out the window, your elbows resting on the ledge.

He took in a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he willed himself not to cry.

“James?”  You’re about to repeat your question when he looks up, staring blankly at the wall.

“Steve has it,” he said quietly, his voice cracking.

Your heart stopped inside your chest.  “Oh.  Oh, James…,” you breathed out.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks, his hands clenched at his sides.  “I went into a room in the ER and there he was.”

You’d heard so many stories about his best friend since childhood that you felt like you knew Steve already.  Bucky had met him when they were just five years old, on the first day of kindergarten, and it’d been history from there.  But Steve had been sickly and small up until they were about seventeen, when he’d undergone some revolutionary clinical trial.  Fixing his heart and lungs had kick started his entire system and it was like everything magically went away.

“Not even that stupid treatment prevented him from getting sick,” Bucky said quietly.  “He looked…  He looked like he was on his deathbed.”

You paused, before crawling out of the window and out onto the fire escape.  “James, take my hand.”

You knew it was stupid.  It was really, really stupid.  He was around those with the virus daily, but he needed you.  You’d risk it to give him a little bit of comfort.

“What?” He said, looking at you like you’d grown a second head.  “No.  No.  I can’t.  What if I give it to you?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you said, insistently holding your hand out to him.  “Take my hand.”

Sniffling, he reached his hand out of his window and took yours, your fingers intertwining.  He took in a shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears coming on as he squeezed his eyes shut.  “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted after a long moment just holding your hand.  “I’m so fucking scared.  I don’t want to go in there day after day.  I know people need me but I…”  He looked up at you with sea glass eyes.  “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to,” you said firmly, with as much conviction as you could muster up.  “You hear me?  You’re not going to die, and neither is Steve.  We’re going to make it through this.”

“Sometimes I just… hold their hand,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear.  “They’re dying alone.  Their family and friends aren’t allowed in to see them.  So I just… stay with them.  So they have someone there.”  Bucky lets his head fall into his chest, his shoulders slumping.  “And then I have to call the family to let them know.  And I just hope that maybe…  knowing I was there with them helps a little.  But it’s not the same.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, not daring to look down because you’re several stories up and if you lean a little too far, it would result in a trip to the hospital you can’t afford.  You haven’t been outside in days.

You don’t realize that you’re crying right along with him until you taste the salty brine of your tears on your lips.

“We’re going to be okay, James,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.  “This won’t last forever.  And I’m going to be here with you, okay?  No matter what happens.  I’m here.  I’ve got you.”

He squeezed your hand once more before letting go, nodding for you to go back inside.  “Go wash your hands.  Now.”

A smile creeps across your face as you surrender to his wishes, crawling back through your window.  “Yes, sir.”

He’s touch and go the next few days.  Sometimes he seems upbeat, positive even, about the whole situation.  Others…  Well.  He had plenty of reason to be down.

“You know, you’re a pretty good singer,” he commented one night.  He was sitting against the window, leaning his head against the frame.  You had climbed out onto the fire escape again with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.  “That night that I heard you singing to that song…  The Doja Cat one?  You’re good.”  His head tilted to the side in the way that a puppy might.  “Why don’t you sing more often?”

“I used to,” you said after a deep sigh.  “I used to sing a lot.  I was going to be a musical theatre actress.  But I got told so often that I was better at writing than performing so… I don’t know.  I guess I just decided it’d be better to pursue something I was better at.”

His lower lip was caught between his teeth as he looked at you.

You’d never had someone look at you the way he did.  Like he wanted to see all of you, like he craved it, needed it, even.  It was exhilarating.

“That doesn’t mean you stop singing.”  He moved to rest his chin in his palm.  “Even if you don’t become a performer professionally, you don’t stop singing.  Especially in times like these.”

“What?  Like those fake videos of people in Italy?” You asked with a snort.  A breeze wound through the alley and you tightened the blanket around you.  “The one that Katy Perry retweeted?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said with an eye roll.  “My ma used to sing around the house.  Hearing you…  It made me feel like I was home again.  Just for a little while.”  He smiled slyly.  “And you have pretty sick dance moves.”

Groaning, you climbed back into your window, shooting a glare at him.  “You promised not to talk about my dancing!”

“It was cute!”

“Was not!”

“Was to!”

You took in a deep breath as you stared at him with narrowed eyes.  “No,” you said, pointing a finger at him.  “No, it’s not.”  Before he could reply, you started to shut the window, calling out, “Goodnight, James!”  The window shut with a definitive click and you winked as he flipped you the middle finger.

Steve came home three weeks later, completely clean of the virus.  The quarantine finally ended on May 22nd, 2020, the amount of cases down to maybe a hundred that were contained within the hospital.

In that time, you’d gone outside a total of six times to get groceries.  You’d gained ten pounds, even with the basic exercises you were doing in your apartment to keep you active.  You’d also saved up two thousand dollars, since you weren’t going out and you’d put a parental lock on your laptop and phone so you couldn’t go online shopping until further notice, but you were lucky in that way.  You had an extremely well-paying job that you could do online, and your boss wasn’t an asshole.

Millions of New Yorkers flooded the streets, crying and hugging and touching everyone.

You hadn’t been touched in so long.  The last time had been when you’d held Bucky’s hand on your balcony, and that had been the only time he’d allowed it since he didn’t want to get you sick.

He’d been lucky that he didn’t get it himself.  Most of those that had fallen ill were healthcare workers.  Overworked, tired healthcare workers.

You stepped out of the front doors of your apartment building, feeling an overwhelming sense of elation.  You’d already talked to Hope that morning on FaceTime.  Her and her parents were celebrating by going to their favorite restaurant that was allowing dine-in again.

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched the people around you.  It reminded you a little bit of those pictures of V-Day in New York City at the end of World War II.

But where was Bucky?

He’d been at work yesterday, and since you hadn’t seen him, it probably meant that he’d passed out in an on-call room instead of coming home.

But you needed to see him.  You didn’t care if he was all gross and greasy.  You just needed him.

You loved him.

Your eyes locked in on a familiar head of long, brown hair sticking a little bit above the crowd.  He was awful tall.  When he turned his head, it only confirmed it.  “JAMES!” You shouted, trying to break through the roar of the crowd.  “JAMES!”

His brows furrowed, his head turning a little towards the sound of his voice.  When his eyes landed on you they went wide as saucers, his lips forming your name even though you couldn’t hear him over the people.

The two of you pushed through the hordes of people, trying to reach one another.  When you finally broke through, you threw yourself into his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck as he twirled you around.  The both of you were crying happy tears, wide smiles on your faces.

“We made it,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “We’re okay.”  You pulled back enough to cup his face, so many words you wanted to say getting caught in your throat.

But before you could say them, he pulled you into a kiss, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip.  Grinning against your lips, he dipped you just a little, holding you tight.  To passerby, it was a remnant of the iconic V-Day kiss.  But you couldn’t think about that.  All you could think about was Bucky.

“Hi,” he said softly as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

Your nose nudged against his as your eyes fluttered open.  “Hi.”

He stole another kiss, your heart skipping a beat inside your chest.  “You better not stop singing now that this is over,” he said quietly as he held you to him, refusing to let go.  “Can’t go a day without hearing your pretty voice.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Your sap.”

“My sap?!”

He had a cheeky smile as he looked at you, cupping your cheeks.  “Does this mean I can take you on a date now?”

You were lucky.  You knew people who got the virus, but none of them had died.  Others didn’t have the same luck unfortunately, and it was a tragedy.  But you don’t stop singing during dark times.  You just sing a little louder.

[radiorenjun]

I Don’t Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn't stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Masterlist here!

• Chapter: iii, iv

"Hey Jaemin!" you exclaimed, bumping your shoulder against his teasingly as you manage to catch up to the poor boy. Jaemin sighed before turning to you with a soft smile, "hello y/n."

"So how are you today?" you asked, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets as you walk side by side in the halls during recess. Jaemin felt his blood boil at the sight of you, after the day he had, he just didn't feel like dealing with your nagging.

"Y/n, I’m-" Jaemin sighed heavily before he felt an arm wrapped around the two of them, his good friend, Haechan stepping in between the two. "If it isn't my favourite couple!" the boy chirped, his bright smile lightening Jaemin's mood.

"Hi Haechan!" you giggled, ignoring his arm laying lazily around your shoulder. "How are you two doing in this terrible school day?" he grinned. "Just amazing." Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Looks like Nana here is having a bad day," Haechan used his hand that was swinging against Jaemin's shoulder to pinch the boy's cheeks.

Jaemin clenched his fists, "Hyuck, I-" Jaemin took a deep breath before being interrupted once again by the obnoxious school bell. Jaemin groaned internally, feeling Haechan's arm sliding off of his shoulder quickly before bolting away from them with a short "oh shit."

"Wow, not even a goodbye." you muttered with a chuckle before looking up at Jaemin who's expression looked grim, eyes cold and emotionless and his usual smile nonexistent on his beautiful face. "We should really hurry to class, Nana." You tugged on his sleeve as students ran by the two of you, only to have him jerk his arm away from you harshly.

Your eyes widen slightly at the action, his eyes not meeting yours. "You go on without me, I gotta meet Coach bout the next game." he mumbled. "Um, okay." you bit your lip nervously, "you want me to tell Mrs. Choi for you?"

"No, thanks." Jaemin replied dryly before walking away from you. You felt sadden as Jaemin walked away, starting to walk the other way to class. This was usually what you're looking forward to everyday. That one subject where you both had the same class at the end of each day.

It's not a big deal, he just gotta talk to Coach. He is the captain now that Mark graduated. He's got more things to do now, you shouldn't be so sad at his success.

You apologized to Mrs. Choi on being late to class which she just waved off before telling you to sit down. You sat down on the empty seat next to Huang Renjun, the Chinese student who moved in a few years ago, who was also one of your close friends.

"Hey Renjun," you waved as you drop your bag on the table. "Good to see you, loser. Why aren't you sitting next to Mr. Captain of the Football Team?" Renjun chuckled, not sparing you a glance as he fidgeted with his brand new watercolor set under his desk as to not get caught by your teacher.

Renjun was in the arts club with you, that's basically how you two met. The day you met was a truly iconic moment in your friendship, which ended with you accidentally shoving the end of an acrylic paint brush into his mouth.

"He got some things to discuss with Coach, so he couldn't make it to class." you pouted, crossing your arms on the desk as you began to write down whatever your teacher was explaining on the whiteboard. Renjun looked around class, now noticing that Jaemin was nowhere in sight of the room.

"I'm so glad to be your second option, y/n." he said spitefully, earning a poke on the temple by the end of your pencil. "Hey," he gave you a death glare. "Shut up, Huang. If he didn't reject me so much maybe I wouldn't be this desperate." you muttered, writing down sloppy notes at the speed of light.

"Oh please, even if Jaemin accepted your love, you wouldn't even spare a glance at anyone but him in this whole room til Mrs. Choi actually makes you sit next to me." Renjun rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, putting his watercolour set in his bag before turning his head to copy the ones he hasn't written.

You sighed, playfully poking his sides in retaliation, causing the taller boy to flinch at the contact. "Speaking of that, it's been-what? Three years? And you're still going strong?" Renjun asked in disbelief. "Three- It's only been two years Renjun." you chuckled.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes, "but like, how are you still going strong with the countless amount of times where he would reject you all the time?" he asked again. You felt a slight pain in your chest at his words, your mind flashing back to Jaemin's cold demeanor a while ago.

"Jaemin's just really stubborn. Why are you even questioning this now?" you tried to play it off with a smile, forcing out a small laugh as you gripped your pencil tightly, trying to make your mind focus on what's being written on the board than focusing on your stubborn soulmate who kept rejecting you.

"Yeah I know, but it's been two years, Y/n. Two damn years. I admire your determination and all but are you ever gonna just give up?" he questioned. You felt your heart sank at the thought, you wouldn't know what to do without your soulmate.

Everyone told you that being with your soulmate always made you feel whole, with butterflies fluttering around your stomach and your heart would feel like it was raised up to the clouds in heaven like a bird sparing through the sky.

The euphoria when your skins touch, the same exact feeling when you and Jaemin were casually hanging out. Deep down, the dark part of you knew that he was gonna get sick of you sooner or later. Yet you still had some hope left lingering, hoping that things would turn out otherwise.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm your thoughts as you slowly unclenched your death grip on your pencil. "Shut up Renjun," you flashed the boy a forced smile, nudging him with a teasing look before going back on your notes.

But to be honest, you don't know if you could continue paying attention without your mind wandering around.

"You okay?" you asked when you got in the passenger seat of Jaemin's car, shutting the door to be meet with a very dark and grim Na Jaemin with his eyes not gazing away from his phone. You knew something was up.

You and Jaemin lived literally next door to each other. Ever since Jaemin got a brand new car for his birthday, he couldn’t help but offer you a ride. “Fine.” he spoke in a monotone voice. He started the engine with a twist of his key, not sparing you a glance as he started driving. 

“You sure?” you asked after a pregnant pause, “you don’t sound or look fine.Did something happen at practice?” you added. You could see Jaemin’s fingers tightening their grip on the steering wheel. “I’m fine.” he muttered once again, but nonetheless your stubborn self didn’t want to leave him alone. His happiness was your happiness, after all.

“You know we could just talk it o-” you said before flinching at Jaemin’s bold yet sharp tone. “I said, I’m fine, y/n.” he huffed with a roll of his eyes. “I’m just having those days, just drop it.” he added without meeting your eyes. You stared at him for a brief moment, raising your brow at his tone.

You clicked your tongue before taking off your seatbelt causing Jaemin to turn his head to you for a small moment before looking back at the road. “What are you-” he spoke before he watch you move to the back seat and press both of your hands on his shoulder above the seats, pressing your fingers down on his clothed skin. Jaemin let out a soft groan at the contact, feeling his body relax.

“You’re clearly not fine. So let’s just talk it out and relax.” you smiled, trying to keep your balance on the moving car. “Y/N, sit down. What if you-” Jaemin interrupted himself with a relaxed groan as you dug your fingers on a sore spot. “Shut up and tell me bout your day, you dumbass.” you chuckled. Jaemin sighed in defeat, focusing on the road and the calming sensation of your palms digging into his shoulders.

“It’s nothing, really. Coach just gave me a big talk bout the responsibilities of being team leader, and the risks I have to take since it’s our senior year. And we’re gonna have tryouts for new members next week and I’ll have to be there, too. Everything’s just piling up into one, not to mention the exams, assignments and practice every two days.” Jaemin sighed.

You hummed, nodding as Jaemin continued to vent out his emotions to you as if you weren’t the same girl who was constantly bugging him everyday with your undying love confessions. It felt as if you two were sixteen again, before the whole soulmate problem came up. “I get it, with Seulgi graduating, someone has to be the president of the art club. Everyone wants me to be the leader but I don’t think I’m ready.” you nodded in understanding.

Jaemin smiled as you spoke,”but like, sometimes you gotta take up responsibilities when they’re given to you, you know? We just gotta do our best and start taking slow steps at a time.” you continued, trying to focus on massaging Jaemin’s shoulders. “Thanks, y/n.” Jaemin chuckled softly, his heart warming up, knowing you got his back no matter what. “I’m glad you always got my back.”

“Of course I do,” you smiled. “I am your soulmate after all,” you bit your lip nervously, you almost hesitated saying those words. You prepared yourself for the dark glare that was now peering at you through the rear view mirror, “Y/N...” Jaemin spoke in an exasperated sigh. “I know, I know. ‘Y/N, you know this more than anyone in the whole world, I don’t want to have a chosen soulmate, or any at all. I want to fight against what fate has in store for me.’ I heard you say this a gazillion times, Nana.” you giggled, mocking his deep voice dramatically.

Jaemin let out a small giggle, shaking his head profusely as he felt your fingers disappear as you crawled to the front passenger seat beside Jaemin once again. He watched you hop on to the passenger’s seat, clipping your seat belt on. He bit his lip as he recalled his tone early, feeling guilty slightly at his previous actions.

Soon he let out a small smile, doing a u-turn to head to your favorite diner. “Whatever,loser. You want to get some smoothies?” he offered with his charming bright smile, pupils shining bright once again that you could feel yourself fall deeper for this boy. “Do you even have to ask, Mr. Captain Of The Football Team?” you giggled.

Jaemin laughed, shaking his head at you. “One hour,Y/n. One whole hour. That’s how long I left you at Mrs.Choi’s class to sit beside Renjun and now you’re becoming him.” Jaemin jokes, poking your sides teasingly. “Imagine what would’ve happen if I left you with him for a whole day, alone.” he hummed curiously.

“Shut up, Nana. You know very much I rather be left alone with you,” you winked, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes at you. “Do I really need to reject you again? I’m sure you have my whole speech perfectly memorized in that brain of yours.” he chuckled. You felt your heart sank once again at his words,but nonetheless you maintained a bright smile on your face. “Who knows? Maybe you finally fell for me,” you grinned.

“Stop dreaming, Y/N. That’s definitely not gonna happen.” 

[zertzertzhang]

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down CH.2

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

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First chapter link here > https://zertzertzhang.tumblr.com/post/627185848305270784/stand-and-deliver-my-life-turned-upside-down

Chapter Two: Circus

The second Vianne stepped out of the car, she realized her mistake. The school wasn’t what she expected at all. Garfield High broke the scale...in a bad way. Chipped walls decorated the main hall, flooded with overflowing trash bins and rusty pipelines. It had to have been decades since the last renovation, with the building looking like something she saw from abandoned prefectures. 

Like all other complexes she’d seen around there, the place was standing on its last two feet. This was supposed to be the best building around. 

Her white Giuseppe sneakers stepped on something sticky, and it was a challenge to hold in a disgusted snort. There was dried gum everywhere on the sidewalk, making Vianne wonder why they even bothered with trash cans in the first place. She winced when it was clear that her shoes would be torn to shreds by the end of the day.

Then came the worst part of her arrival; people stared. And it wasn’t some half-assed look you gave to a passersby on the streets. Students were either throwing her a look-over or straight on gaping. It could’ve been the way she was dressed, or the fact that she was probably the only Asian mingling in the midst of Latinos and very few Caucasians. Most likely both.

Ironed blouses and slim denim were not in fashion around here. Among the rest of the population with oversized shirts and baggy mom jeans, Vianne was the runt of the litter. She wanted to jump back into the car, go home, and put on an invisibility coat. The dirty look she saw from some of the girls did nothing to calm the queasy storm in her stomach.

“-That fresh meat?”

“It’s a fuckin’ chink. What’re they doin’ here?”

“Heh, looks like a lost puppy.”

The boys were doing a terrible job at whispering. Vianne wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at passive aggression or just plain stupidity. She glared in their direction, lips pulled into a slight frown as she entered the building. A cold sweat broke through her back, stretching its spindly fingers around her body in a tight cocoon. 

Ignore them and get on with it.

Her mind screamed at her to keep walking, and she obliged. Repeating the mental mantra, Vianne soon found her way into the main office with her slip in hand. A handful of police officers crowded in one tiny space, speaking in rapid Spanish. Order did not exist in this school; the secretary was talking to five people at once, without the time to think about the things she said. Voices filled with agitation hung in the air. 

Vianne was this close to thinking she had entered the wrong room when a small figure spotted her from behind.

“Miss? Can I help you?” A small tap on her shoulders sent her whirling around in alarm. Her little outburst startled the short woman behind her as well. When Vienne finally registered the lack of threat in front of her, her cheeks flushed bright red.

“Sorry! I’m looking for Racquel Ortega. It’s my first day and I was told to come here to get my finalized schedule.” The young woman spoke so fast she swore her lips would fall off. 

The curly-haired woman in the maxi dress looked surprised. “Ah, that would be me. Are you Vianne Yang.”

Vianne nodded. “I was supposed to meet my TA instructor for math. It’s my first period.”

Ortega smiled warmly. “Yes. Welcome to Garfield High. Please follow me.” She held out a hand, and Vianne shook them without hesitation. 

The duo weaved back and forth in the crowds, desperate to dodge the flying paper balls. Ortega would yell once in a while at a group of boys before pointing to the office behind her. The way her docile demeanor went from zero to a hundred freaked the young woman a bit. But Vianne couldn’t blame her. Had she been in her shoes, she would’ve quit before she even started.

As it turned out, her instructor was a retired engineer. Of all places, Vianne didn’t expect that to come from a high school teacher, particularly in this neighborhood. Ortega did an excellent job at filling in the details. It would seem that Jaime Escalante needed a breath of fresh air from the corporate environment. 

Vianne almost felt sorry for him. There was no relaxation here; she’d be surprised if the teachers weren’t dropping dead from exhaustion because of the students. Garfield, from what she’d seen so far, could drive a devout nun to insanity. 

The increasing voices of everyone around spiked her anxiety to new levels. She was doing her utmost best to not break down and cling onto the older woman for dear life. The mass of bodies was like an unforgiving current, threatening to wash her away if she slipped up.

They reached a door with the sign ‘Math 1A’ scribbled on the whiteboard next to it. Someone had decided that a drawing of a dick was appropriate to be placed right under the description. The person even added a smiley face onto the artwork, showcasing their enthusiasm. Real classy. 

“Racquel please come to the front desk. Racquel please come to the front desk.” Ortega’s walkie-talkie crinkled pitifully, before choking out a command. The math advisor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She nudged Vianne closer to the door. 

“Here’s the classroom. Mr. Escalante should be there already. Good luck with your school year.” A tight smile appeared on Ortega’s face, and within seconds, she was making a mad dash back to the main hall. All alone, Vianne was left standing there feeling like a complete fool. She blinked at where Ortega was previously, and the sense of dread overwhelmed her. On cue, the bell rang its warning. Everyone groaned in unison like a chorus before the wave of students began flowing into the classrooms. 

Lucky for her, she had no need to run to class. Grabbing the nob with renewed strength, Vianne pulled herself into the room. There was one person at the front desk; a middle-aged man nearing his sixties stood near the chalkboard, hand moving furiously as he wrote down an equation. She prayed that this was going to be the right person.

“Mr. Escalante?” Vianne cringed at her pronunciation of his name. She herself knew what it was like when people screwed up hers in the past. But this man had an entirely different level of difficulty. Ortega’s way of saying it felt so natural compared to hers, which sounded like an insecure toddler butchering their first word.

The man turned his head to face Vianne, eyes widening a fraction. His oversized glasses gave him a sage-like appearance despite the head, or half-head, of dark hair. The bald spot in addition to his very casual attire made her think of a grandpa who was likely to yell at the kids across the lawn. 

At the sight of her dumbstruck state, he quirked his lips. “Yes, how may I help you?”

The slight South American accent trailed after his speech, giving away his ethnicity. Vianne felt her mouth open and close, but the nervousness took the words from her mouth. She stuck out her hand that held the transfer letter. Escalante better have known about this, or she’ll flip a lid.

“I’m Vianne,” she explained. “Your TA. I think Mrs. Ortega already told you about me?”

Escalante’s brows rose to new heights, his amused smile broadening. “Yes! Miss Yang, is it? Welcome to my class!” The elongated hiss in his way of speech, coupled with the wild gesture of his arms painted the picture of a mad scientist in her head. It was nearly endearing.

“I’m afraid there’s not enough chairs for an extra student,” Escalante said. “Please stand here and wait for everyone to arrive so I can take a headcount for the others.”

Vianne obeyed without a word and flattened herself against the wall next to him. In response, the door was barged open, and the group of students flooded the room like a swarm of wasps entering their hive. Restless chatter buzzed her ears as she took note of everyone that rounded the class. It was hard to catch what most of them were saying; Spanish wasn’t the language requirement she took back in Napa.

Knowing French wasn’t the best course to help her in this situation. And even then, she only took it up to level two. The people before her all wore the same dazed expression, jeering in loud volumes and hooting on the sides.

Someone shot a rubber band across the room, hitting one of the boys square in the face. Angry shouts erupted from both sides as the rest of them began to laugh at the brawling duo. More paper balls were thrown, and Vianne could hear some of them yelling ‘bitch’ to one another.

It was a fucking joke. The whole class was a joke––scratch that––the whole school was a joke. And Vianne was the poor audience that bought the overpriced ticket to the hellhole circus. There was not a word that could describe the boiling feeling in her gut. She couldn’t believe it; this was the place she had to deal with for another year. 

There was no way the teachers here could’ve survived each day without going into a catatonic state before school ended. Vianne drummed her fingers against her books without mercy. A panic attack was just inches away from happening if the class refused to settle down. And from the look on Escalante’s face, it would appear that they shared the same sentiment.

A scowl donned his face, creasing the heavy lines on his forehead. If it weren’t for Vianne’s distracted state, she would’ve been frightened by those narrowed eyes. 

“Come now!” Escalante’s voice boomed throughout the small room. “You don’t want no mama’s chancla when you get home, no? I’d love to see you fight with your parents around.”

The overt threat was not lost among the students, with some of them slinking away in defeat. Others ‘booed’ at the command, but made no extra attempts to disrupt the already late start of the lecture. It took about five minutes to get their total attention to the board, and that alone fried Vianne’s brain.

“Orale!” Escalante’s mood quickly brightened at the cooperating mass, his smile twinkling with interest. “Allow me to introduce my new TA. She will be your lovely assistant for the rest of the school year. Any extra questions, she will answer for you.”

His hands gestured to her like a magician preparing his new subject for a spin. But only in this state, nothing was magical. It became clear that Escalante was waiting for her to present herself; the man eyed her expectantly, his grin not budging an inch. 

Vianne felt her cheeks flush so hot that it put the musty LA weather to shame. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “Hi, uh, I’m Vianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you all...uh, hope I could be of some help.”

An urge to facepalm was strong. Had her grades been irrelevant to her stay in Math 1A, she would’ve made a beeline for the door. The reception after her introduction was a nightmare, because everyone began jabbering all at once.

“The fuck?!” A young man with a messy afro glared at her. His buddies around him sniggered in agreement.

In the front, a chubby male with curly hair snorted. “Booooring!” His female friends rolled their eyes and swatted him on the shoulders. But their giggles weren’t held in for long.

Vianne wanted to find the nearest cliff and throw herself from it. If she converted to Buddihsm now, maybe she’ll even have a decent shot at getting a nice reincarnation.

“First you, now the chink?! This is messed up man!” A few more hostile tones rose from the back. 

Her eyes flared. Vianne changed her mind; she didn’t want to throw herself off a cliff anymore, she wanted to throw them. Her body trembled with brewing rage under her skin. The nerve of the scoundrels! As if she wanted to be here! If it were up to her, she wouldn’t even spare them the time of day. Like an uncontrollable tick, her temper fired in sparks. A snide retort was about to make its way to the public when Escalante’s hands came up in a flash.

“Silence!” The tone of his command left no room for arguments. “Another remark as such, and all of you will be spending Saturday school for a month!”

The teacher was practically bristling from head to toe. His friendly disposition came and went at a dizzying speed, tugging Vianne onto an emotional roller-coaster. However, she was nonetheless grateful for the save. One thing was for sure, skin color was not up for debate in his classroom. At least she found an ally in desperate times. 

At his outcry, the students grumbled amongst themselves and quieted down. She still received dirty looks from the girls, but they were mostly silent. One youngster in the front row with earrings gave her a lopsided grin and tutted with refined casualness.

“Yo ese! Does that mean if you assign sex homework I can ask her number?”

A few other boys cheered from the back, throwing their thumbs up as if they heard the best joke in record time. The girls cringed and sent disgusted scowls their way, with one of them commenting about how horny the bastards were. Only one person in the audience didn’t react. The girl with short, curly hair looked at Vianne, a pitying stare adorned her guise. 

Humiliation wasn’t something Vianne dealt with on a daily basis. And the sudden onslaught nearly had her burst into a tearful temper tantrum. Glancing over to Escalante, she could see the patience waning from him as well. The class was saved from another wrath from either of them when the bell rang again. 

Without a second thought, everyone except for the girl with short hair bolted for the door. The insult Vianne had prepared was lodged in her throat, unable to make their move. Was this a mistake? She was sure that it wasn’t even halfway through the first period, they still had more than an hour left. Time was a foreign concept to her in this town, and she figured her mind must’ve been playing tricks on her.

“Um, is class over?” It was a rhetorical question. But what answered her caught her off guard.

“Give it a minute,” the girl said. Her pencil tapped with a delicate rhythm against the desk as she wore a tired expression. Vianne stared at her with disbelief before turning her head to the instructor. Like the girl, Escalante showed no interest in leaving, instead opting to go towards the window. 

Curiosity got the best of her, and she soon joined him by the blinds. “What’s going on?”

“They rigged the bell again.” From Escalante’s frown, she reckoned that this was a common occurrence. Following his gaze, her eyes landed on a group of young men congregated before the main school alarm. All of them were donned in dark clothing, wearing baggy jeans and beanies. The distance made it hard to see their faces, but Vianne thought she caught sight of a tall figure moving amongst them. He was laughing obnoxiously, while engaging in a bro-shake with a shorter male. 

None of that was relevant, though, because the bell rang again, this time from the superintendent. His red face deepened to a shade of purple as he and the principal began their rounding of the rioting teens. The mob of students were herded back to their respective classrooms, all groaning and whining at the ‘unfair treatment’ of their lunch break.

“Lunch isn’t for another two periods!” Principal Molina shouted. “Get back to class!” His finger pointed to the doors, and his eyes bulged like an angry bull’s.

“Shut the fuck up!” A few students jeered. More paper balls were thrown, but there wasn’t anything Molina could do about it.

All the while, Vianne and the girl sat dumbstruck as they stared at the whirlwind of people coming back to their seats. Vianne swore that if this was how it was going to be for the rest of the day, then she’ll gladly accept them leaving on their own accord.

After another ten minutes wasted on trying to get her classmates to settle down, Escalante wiped his brow with a handkerchief. The toll of the students had taken its effect on him as well. But the sly grin never left his face, unbreakable like hardtack.

“I told you it was futile to escape,” he taunted softly. “There’s always a bigger fish in the pond.” 

Vianne sent him a disbelieving look. Was the man not afraid of backlash? But the rest of the class only ignored him and glared, defeated. The class TA let out a breath of relief, for a moment she feared that it’ll lead to another brawl, this time at the instructor.

“Turn to page fifteen! And I want all of your homework turned in to Vianne right here. Once you’ve done that, work on problems one through ten on the multiplication of fractions.” The command was calm and precise, not a word stuttered. Escalante corrected the glasses on his nose and squinted at the chalkboard, not giving a fuck about the moaning teens.

It was Vianne’s cue to get to work. She didn’t hesitate, and began roaming around the room collecting wrinkled papers. With time, she learned that the girl who stayed behind was Ana, the frizzy-haired girl behind her was Claudia, and next to Claudia was the redheaded Lupe. Neither of the two gave Vianne much of a glance, preferring to ignore her existence as she took their homework.

Not bothering to tell them about the mutual disdain, Vianne clicked away happily. She soon found out that the man who kept asking for sex was Tito, his lopsided smile broadening when she came to take his paper. 

“How ‘bout we do a trade,” Tito suggested, licking his lips. “My work for your number.”

Vianne wished very much to flip him off and top it with a whack on his head. But she chose to snatch the homework from his hands without a word. A snort escaped her as she turned around.

The boy next to him, Frank ‘Pancho’ Garcia, hooted. “Rejected!” 

Tito scoffed. “Tsk, tsk. Playin’ hard to get I see.” He waved a casual hand and went back to his workbook. “It’s her loss.”

That’s what every virgin says. Vianne rolled her eyes at the added comment. The stack of writings were presented to Escalante, who took it with a gracious ‘thank you’. His lack of reaction to the jeers made her question just how much he was going to take because of his job. The probability of him being numb to the antics was high.

 Just when Vianne thought her task was done for the time being, the door creaked open. She raised a brow; there were three more seats left in the corner, so it made sense that there were more people coming in. Facing the entrance, Vianne tried to get a better look than using the corners of her eyes. 

Her stomach lurched at the sight, and she had to bite her lips to keep from hyperventilating. If her memory served her right, then those were the exact same boys she saw loitering around the alarm. The shortest one with a bandana stalked up to the front, head bobbing with self-assured arrogance. His hollow eyes stared at her with mild interest before they hardened when Escalante came into his view.

“Kimo,” he drawled. “Who’s the freshie?” The languid demeanor gave away his stoned state. Vianne made a subconscious step away from him and his pals, eyeing them warily through her glasses. He smirked, showing off a row of white teeth, seemingly glad at her reaction.

“You’re late, Chuco.” To her side, Escalante came into the conversation. “Vianne’s your new TA and I need you to sit your ass on a seat.”

Chuco gave a slighted look her way before he sauntered past her to the back, followed by his buddies. Vianne didn’t realize how tall the teen she saw through the window was until she was mere inches away from him. Dressed in an oversized bomber jacket and jeans too big for his waist, the towering youth could easily pass as a man in his twenties. A good feet taller than her would be a low estimation. 

What on earth are his parents feeding him?! 

Vianne stared straight on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing her discomfort. Like Chuco, he also paid her no attention as he strolled next to the ‘leader’, plopping down on the desk in a bored manner. 

It made sense that Escalante would want their homework as well, so she made a begrudging advance in their direction. Her feet padded across the room, drilling needles of dread into her legs with each stride.

“I need your homework, please.” Vianne tried to sound as polite as possible. But the grinding of teeth made it hard to sound sweet. 

Chuco leered. “Ain’t got no homework, chica. Do the problems in ma head.”

One didn’t need a degree in astrophysics to know he was messing with her. Vianne grinned a little too forcefully and sighed. “Fine. Please turn to page fifteen and work on problems one through ten.”

She walked over to his tall companion, prepared for another unpleasant conversation. “Homework, please.”

The young man proceeded to pull his beanie lower over his ears. At that, Vianne was millimeters away from flipping her shit. Did the blockhead not comprehend? Or was he messing with her, too? Her father did say that certain people around the area couldn’t speak English, so she tried to push the excuse in a better light. Maybe he really didn’t understand her.

“Give me your tarea, por favor?” She tried to remember the basic Spanish from her previous encounters. But her knowledge decided to ditch her last minute. “Uh, Speak Ingles?”

He looked at her, eyes wide with what she hoped was understanding, and his lips twitched. Then his brows joined in, before he busted out laughing. Chuco howled along with him, slapping him on the shoulders with glee. 

“Sometimes,” the tall youth answered. He smirked, tilting his head in her direction. Vianne balled her hands into fists as she watched on. The tips of her ears burned with a passion.

“Orale Angel!” Chuco high-fived him hard. “Nice one!” The duo continued their chorus of laughter, completely oblivious to the subject of their jest.

Vianne wished that turning invisible was a possible feat. It was adamantly clear that this was going to be a long year. The storm inside her grew, barely holding the thunders at bay.

:

:

A/N: As per usual, shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for encouraging and helping me get over writers block and whatnot ;)

[trashfor-imagines]

If There’s Light There’s Hope | 3

Bakugou x Fem!Reader (BNHA)

Summary: U.A. High School was your dream. You wanted to save people. You never expected how wild your journey would be and you certainly never expected a hot headed boy to play as large of a role as he would. Warnings: Swearing

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7]

-

Mr. Aizawa and All Might arrived at your parent’s home a few days later to discuss students moving into dorms on campus. It was a little embarrassing to have these Pro-Heroes over. Your parents weren’t very wealthy so your home was quite sparse and simple. Your mom was always worried about money, your dad was constantly overworked. To your relief, your parents didn’t put up any kind of a fight. They had been pissed that as regular civilians they couldn’t keep you from sneaking out and getting involved in that mess. Your parents figured that living under the watchful eye of Pro-Heros would be more affective in keeping you safe.

It didn’t take long to move in three days later. Bakugou hadn’t spared you a single glance since he arrived. In fact, when you took a step toward him to just say “hi,” he walked off, moving to stand further away. You had to meet with Aizawa and the rest of your class where you were given a terrifying speech about being on the verge of expulsion before being given room assignments. When Aizawa was done, you immediately headed in, not bothering to see why Bakugou pulled Kaminari aside after the meeting.

You were one of the first ones to finish unpacking and you were relaxing in the common room after having showered, dressed in black high waisted leggings and a super cropped peach colored hoodie with the kanji for PLUS ULTRA on your chest. You had slipped your feet into a pair of cute fluffy bear slippers your parents got you as a moving present. It was thoughtful and it wasn’t often they could afford to buy you things. Most of your money came from saving up on your birthday or other special holiday occasions; sometimes you sold little handmade items at markets and worked different odds and ends type of jobs. The slippers really meant a lot to you.

One by one, your classmates started coming in to the common area, joining you. Kirishima plopped down beside you and struck up conversation with the boys. Soon after, the girls arrived and Ashido made the suggestion that we should show off our rooms. It was interesting to see everyone’s personality shine in how they chose to decorate. Soon it was turned into a competition and you were instantly disinterested.

Last to show for the girls, you felt a bit burdened by having to do this, but it was too late to back out now. Opening the door, you took a step back, letting your classmates file in.

Your room had a white, peach, and golden color scheme. The most notable thing in your room when you first walked in was the large half-cork / half-whiteboard mood board you hung on the left wall near the door. It was filled with ideas and inspiration, motivational quotes, newspaper clippings, hand written notes and cards, pictures, and doodles; every item placed aesthetically. Below it was a low traditional white coffee table with a cute assortment of succulents and some magazines on top of it; plush pillows were tucked neatly underneath it for seating purposes. The walls had fresh white paint and on the floor you had taken a large light grey rug and pieced it carefully to act as a soft and fluffy carpet. Actual carpet would have been insanely complicated to get installed.

Past the coffee table on the same wall, your bed was pushed against the far left corner with the foot of your bed against half the large sliding glass window so you could still lay in bed and look outside if you wanted; you made sure it didn’t block the other half of the window that slid open so you could go out onto the shared balcony. You had hung soft white curtains so that during the day the sun could still light up your room. 

Across from the bed, in the far right corner, there were cute succulents and little snow globes carefully placed on the very full book shelf and a comfy large velvety peach armchair close to the sliding glass door so you could read by the window. There were string lights strung up along the ceiling that gave your room that soft golden glow. Cute clips were used to attach polaroids of you with your family and friends to strings carefully draped and pinned to the wall above your bed in place of a head board and on the walls above your armchair and book shelf. Next to your reading area, since you had minimal clothing, your clothes hung on a fashionable garment rack with wheels and shelves for your shoes; you kept your underwear and other personal items tucked away in the sliding drawers under your bed. There was also a large full length mirror against the wall beside it.

After removing the rod in your original closet, you placed your desk in there, keeping the shelf for storage. Your reasoning for this was so that you could close the doors when you didn’t want to look at your work space. Sometimes studying gave you anxiety and you just wanted to relax after being at school all day. On the space above your desk hung a white board calendar and cork board, cute polaroids pinned to it. One of your favorite pictures was taken by Todoroki. At the end of your internship you submitted a written request to Endeavor for a photo with him. It had been pure dumb luck that his publicist had been there at the time and got him to agree with it.

“(Y/N) your room is so cute!” the girls squealed in delight.

“The string lights really make it romantic!” Uraraka chimed in.

The girls turned to the boys, waiting to hear their input. Mineta seemed to be sweating up a storm, but you refrained from asking if he was ok. That boy was certainly never ok.

“It’s lovely.” Todoroki spoke up plainly.

Kaminari and Kirishima slung their arms around each other and enthusiastically voiced in unison, “If we had girlfriends we’d hope their rooms looked like yours!”

Jirou and Hagakure quickly bonked them on the heads.

“It is certainly sweet,” Tokoyami agreed.

“How did you get so much done so quickly?!”

With a blush, you scratched your cheek, embarrassed. “Thanks, everyone.”

When it came time for voting you definitely voted for Satou. He’d been so sweet to make that chiffon cake for the whole class. Just as you headed for bed, Uraraka stopped you and the others who had gone to save Bakugou and led you outside to meet Asui. She made such a confession to you all and spoke from her heart about how she felt regarding the incident. It was touching and you all reassured her. You might not have been as close as you could be with your classmates, but you promised to keep out of trouble - for their sakes.

Time seemed to move on without much disturbance after everyone moved into the dorms. You developed a Super Move, upgraded your costume, and you were all off to the Provisional Hero License Exams.

Mr. Aizawa had a huge hand in helping you develop your move, Finale. Its goal was to focus the explosions repeatedly on the same spot instead of being so scattered. You also figured out a way to propel yourself through the air from being grounded by using your quirk, but because you had to use maximum energy stored up, it wasn’t useful in combat, just for retreating.

Your hero costume originally consisted of a weather and heat-resistant catsuit with light armor and accent panels. You asked the Support Department to see about developing a way for you to store the excess energy you absorb, that way you wouldn’t be stuck in a “use it or lose it” situation or having to carefully ration it ever again. Additionally, you requested the soles of your boots to be equipped with minimalist air thrusters to help you stay airborne if the occasion called for it.

During the Provisional Hero License Exams, despite how much the other schools were gunning for U.A., you gave it your all.

Reflecting back on the exams, you blushed, recalling when you all originally arrived. Yo Shindo from Ketsubutsu Academy was extremely charming, grasping your hands and being extremely forward with you.

“I remember you from the sports festival. You’re quite beautiful and strong too! I hope you don’t mind, but I’d love to talk with you more after the exams,” he confessed, smiling. There was something odd though. You had the feeling there was an ulterior motive. Before you could respond, Bakugou elbowed you, drawing Shindo’s attention to him. That was the first time in weeks he acknowledged your existence.

“And Bakugou, it must have been hard for you what with that whole kidnapping incident. You have an especially strong will don’t you? Today I’m going to do my best to learn from you. I really hope you don’t mind.” Shindo extended his hand.

His hand was met with a slap as Bagukou showed his disinterest and turned away. “Stop pretending. What you say doesn’t match the look in your eyes.”

Aizawa ordered us to go get ready and unexpectedly, Bakugou grasped your wrist, leading you into the building and away from the Ketsubutsu student.

There had been several other moments after that, encounters while surviving the exams that seemed to mean something more. You wondered if all those times Bakugou had stuck his neck out to help you impacted his own results. 

Shaking your head, you took a deep breath to clear your mind. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t pass anyway. According to Kirishima and Kaminari he was sorely lacking in empathy and didn’t have that delicate touch necessary for saving bystanders. He really did need to work on keeping his temper in check; maybe if he had been more level headed he wouldn’t have fought Midoriya and gotten slapped with 4 days of house arrest.

Speaking of Midoriya, you smiled as he ran out the front door with Iida and Uraraka. Quickly, you packed up your lunch as well as a second bento and headed to class. You met up with Hitoshi and walked the rest of the way to school with him; the second bento was for him, which he gratefully accepted. Most of the conversation was spent chatting about the license exams and what happened. You smiled, observing him carefully. He certainly was dedicated into getting into the Hero Department and it was admirable. You couldn’t wait for him to join you.

When lunch time came around, the girls asked if you’d go to the cafeteria with them. Apparently Lunch Rush was trying something new for the menu today.

Laughing awkwardly, you waved them off. “Sorry ladies, maybe next time, ok? I brought lunch again.”

“Well if there’s a good dessert, I’ll be sure you get you one for after school!” Asui exclaimed sweetly.

“I’d love that, thank you.”

Opening the classroom window for some fresh air, you took a seat on the deep window sill, bento box in your lap, chopsticks in one hand and a book in the other. You wanted to get some extra studying in for the Heroics class. Despite it having been a couple of months, you still hadn't fully caught up on some things from transferring departments late.

Some point after eating, as no one else was in the room, you shifted to sit with your feet on the sill as well, knees bent to prop your book against. It was much more comfortable and it was easier to concentrate when your back wasn’t hurting anymore. The sound of the door opening disturbed your focus. Glancing at your watch, you noted it had only been 20 minutes. There was still another 25 minutes before you expected Midnight to show up and another 5 before students would return from lunch. Looking up from your book, you gasped, floundering slightly at seeing a pair of intense red eyes staring you down.

“Bakugou what-”

“What’s your deal? I don’t give a shit or anything, but you always turn down any opportunity to get to know everyone in class. They’re trying to be your friends. Or do you think you’re better than them or something?” His voice was rough as always, but there wasn’t that underlying threat or bite to his words you’d come to expect. Was he truly curious?

Slowly, you marked your page and closed your book, setting it aside. You shifted, crossing your legs and pulling your skirt back down. At the right angle anyone could have seen up your skirt and from the tinge of pink on his face you were pretty sure he got an eyeful just a moment ago. With a deep breath, you confessed, “I want to be friends, but I’ve got to focus on my studies more than anyone else in 1-A. I missed almost the entire first term and I’m seriously behind. I’ve spent the entire time playing catch up. It took an all nighter to score as well as I did on the first term final exams, but even then it’s not like I fully retained the material past exam day. U.A. claims it allows its students to overcome their placements and transfer into a different course. I can’t speak for the other departments, but General Education had only brushed on a lot of these topics that you guys have learned in depth. They’re set up for totally different playing fields. So yes, I do want to become friends, but I can’t mess up this opportunity.”

Stepping forward, he only stopped when the front of his legs pressed against your own. It was startling, but you refused to let him see how it affected you. Your breath hitched as he leaned forward, lowering his face to your own. The heat was unbearable as a flush bloomed across your cheeks and to your ears. As you leaned back in response, he followed until he hovered above you, his hands flat on the window ledge on either side of your hips. It was like a rubber band, the tension between you.

Stretching.

Stretching.

Stretching.

And then...

Snap.

Your leg shifted upward in an instant, kneeing him in the gut. Your goal wasn’t to hurt him, just to snap him out of it. The shocked expression on his face clearly said he hadn’t expected that reaction from you. It took him a moment, but he recovered. Instead of the expected reaction of lashing out physically, yelling, and explosions, he simply looked more pissed than usual, trudging over to his seat and plopping down. Your heart raced erratically. Whatever that was, it certainly was a close one. He ignored you the rest of the day and for that you were thankful.

After school, the girls caught up with you, walking back to the dorms together. Asui, as promised, got you a cute fruit tart from lunch. It was so sweet and you couldn’t help but think back to conversation you’d had with Bakugou during lunch about making friends. Another blush crept up your neck as you recalled the rest of that encounter.

“Ooh is that a blush?!” Hagakure and Ashido swooned.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Who are you thinking about?”

“Do you have a crush on someone?” Asui asked sweetly.

“Uh... I-”

“It’s Bakugou, isn’t it,” Yaoyarozu surmised, as if she’d suddenly solved a riddle. Jirou and Uraraka gasped before fawning over you.

“What?! You girls are crazy! Who’d like him?!” you expressed, speed walking your way out of that conversation as fast as possible. It wasn’t until you slammed your bedroom door shut that you grasped at your heart. There was no way. You did not like that short fused maniac. 

Grabbing a cropped tank and jogger pants, you quickly headed to the showers to clear your head. Thirty minutes must have passed by the time you emerged, feeling fresh, clean, and serene. Fluffy bear slippers on your feet, you made your way to your room without being noticed and sat down to study for a while. After an hour, you realized you weren’t going to accomplish anything. As soon as you stepped out of the shower thoughts began bubbling up to the surface of your mind, crowding up your headspace.

Friendship. It was decided then.

Picking up your phone, you sent out a group message.

(Y/N): If it’s ok, I’d like to make dinner tonight for everyone. Uraraka: That’s so sweet! Kaminari: Alright!! What’s on the menu?! Ojiro: Thanks (Y/N), can’t wait! Mineta: IT’S MY LUCKY DAY!!! A MEAL MADE BY A GODDESS! Sero: Mineta! Chill out before she takes it back! Kaminari: DON’T RUIN THIS MINETA!!! >:(

There were a series of other responses that made you chuckle. Well that settles that. Making your way to the kitchen, you pulled on a cute apron, tying your hair up into a bun on top of your head.

Kirishima and Bakugou soon arrived. With their sweaty demeanor you guessed they’d gone to the gym for a work out. That was usually the norm. Sometimes the other boys would go with them. The redhead spotted you and quickly shuffled up to the kitchen island.

“Hey (Y/N)! What did you decide to make?” he asked, grinning brightly.

Glancing up, your eyes briefly met Bakugou’s before connecting with Kirishima. Your expression seemed delayed, but you smiled honestly. “I’m making two types of gyudon: normal with beef and a vegan version for Koda.”

His eyes lit up brightly and he swooned, claiming he couldn’t wait and rambling on about how he loves meat. More boys started hovering around, making you nervous, until Iida finally appeared, yelling at everyone to get cleaned up and to study while you worked. You had never been so relieved before, silently thanking Iida. By the time 6PM rolled around, you’d just finished. For dessert you even made manjū that looked like cute bunnies.

“Wow, (Y/N)! You don’t look like you even broke a sweat!” exclaimed Sato.

Simply smiling, you fixed Koda’s bowl specially. “Here Koda, I know you don’t eat meat so I made you a tofu version. I hope you enjoy.”

“More please!” Kirishima and Kaminari chimed in suddenly, their bowls already clean.

“More? Uh, sure guys.”

“Yeah! This is so good!” Kirishima exclaimed.

“You’re a great cook! Better than my mom - but don’t tell her that,” Kaminari laughed nervously, a large smile on his face.

It warmed your heart to hear that everyone had something good to say - that is except for Bakugou who’d been silent the whole time. You noticed that he always ate spicy foods, so you made sure to add a spicy sauce to his. Maybe it wasn’t good. Glancing at him, you watched him eat before looking down to your own bowl, finishing your meal.

After dinner, you grabbed your Heroics class book from your room, returning to the common area. You curled up on one of the couches with a pen, some different highlighters, and removable adhesive tabs in multiple colors. For whatever reason, the background noise of 1-A chatting and hanging out seemed to help you study. Maybe you just had enough of the silence and needed this change of scenery. Soon enough, you moved on to history and then mathematics.

Time had passed quickly and you hadn’t noticed at all. You were thirsty and looked up to see that everyone had cleared out. Getting some water, you returned to your spot focusing on your math homework. This was definitely one of your weakest subjects, the worst being Chemistry. Luckily the questions on the handout were multiple choice so the answer was staring back at you...somewhere.

An arm reached forward from behind your head, pointing at the worksheet. Tilting your head back slightly, your face turned red, eyes widening. Bakugou leaned over you from behind the couch, his chest so close to your head that if you tilted your head back any further you’d make contact.

“It’s B.”

“I... Thanks,” you replied breathily. Seconds seem to tick by as you watched his face. His gaze was focused on the sheet in your hands.

“You’re not really good at math, are you?” he asked. If it wasn’t for the serious expression, you would have felt mocked.

Biting your lip, you shook your head. “Not really.”

“Get your shit,” he grunted, walking toward the girl’s dorms.

“What are you...?”

“Hurry your ass up. I’m not helping you if you take too long.”

Hesitating for just a moment, you quickly gathered your things and met him at the elevator. Hitting the button, you waited patiently, your hands feeling clammy. Getting in, you stepped forward to hit your floor number. Stepping back, it felt like electricity shot up your spine as you backed into Bakugou who grabbed your shoulders, steadying you.

“Oh, I’m... I’m sorry,” you managed out before a soft gasp escaped you as his hands gently ran down your arms, lingering, before dropping to his sides.

Ding!

Quickly, you headed straight to your room. You wondered if it was a mistake letting him in. Stepping inside, you sat down on a pillow at the low coffee table, putting your things down. Glancing up at him, you felt another blush crawling up your neck as he stood there, looking around your room. His gaze finally landed on you.

“Cute,” he grunted, dropping down to directly beside you. He leaned on the desk, head propped up by the palm of his hand. His body was shifted toward you and he inched a bit closer.

“Bakugou,” you started, not really sure what you wanted to say.

“Look, just solve the next problem and if you get stuck and don’t know what to do, tell me.” He seemed so bored when he said it.

Holding your breath, you turned to the work sheet and started working out the next problem. You got through the next two problems with no issue. As you worked on the third, your pencil stopped. The answer you came to wasn’t any of the choices. Furrowing your brows, you tried it again, this time managing to get yourself lost in the steps.

“I’m sorry, I messed up somewhere. Can you look at...” your voice trailed off as you turned to look at him, seeing how close he had managed to physically get to you.

His gaze moved from your face to the work sheet, pointing at the equation. He began carefully explaining each step to you, before pausing. “You’re going to want to write this down.”

With a silent gulp, you began writing everything he said, focusing on his voice. Biting your lip, your body seemed to become hypersensitive to his presence. The rumble of his voice felt closer and closer as he spoke until you reached the end of the equation and suddenly his voice stopped. The tip of your pencil snapped; you felt your heart leap into your throat and tiny colorful sparks emitted from your finger tips as his breath suddenly caressed your ear. 

Snapping out of it, you shut your eyes tightly, pressing your hands to his chest and pushing away. His hand grasped your wrists, holding them to his chest firmly.

“Bakugou! What are you doing?”

Opening your eyes, you saw his expression was serious as he looked you in the eye. He didn’t speak until you relaxed.

“Why did you try to save me?”

[hopiewrites]

Nobody - OHSHC

NOTE: big, big thank you to the person helping me write this fic, LT! i don’t think they have a tumblr so here is a link to their quotev!

pairing - host club x reader

ongoing series, chapter 3

word count - 4,180

chapters 1 & 2 up now!

-> back to masterlist

03

Forget-me-not Blue

Weeks had passed, and the daffodils began to bloom, welcoming spring into season that April.

(Y/N) was excited, even if things were barely starting to come to life. The early spring flowers had arrived, and that meant the butterflies and bees would start dancing around again, and the cherry blossoms would bloom, and everything would be alight with new life and begin the new year with vibrancy. She couldn't wait until she was able to walk through Ouran's gardens that would be full of roses and lavender and dandelions.

It seemed that the entire school shared her excitement, as the whole campus was vibrating with excitement and joy. The colors seemed brighter and the sky seemed clearer and the spring air was crisp and clean, brushing it's hands through the trees that were budding with new leaves and fruits.

All was well that day. (Y/N) got to spend time with her mother that morning before she had to run off to work, managed to remember all of her school supplies, and even got to finish her makeup on time; she was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a cherry wood brown turtleneck and a pleated plaid skirt, paired with the dirty vans she always wore.

She stayed late yesterday to make the food beforehand instead of going in early that morning, so she managed to get two extra hours of sleep, and felt relatively rested.

She decided that the day was good.

Everybody in homeroom was chatting amongst themselves, as usual, while cute drawings of different characters and flowers adorned the whiteboard with little phrases and words next to them. Her head was low as she entered, quietly making a beeline towards her usual desk and pulling out her notebook.

Something scrunched under her papers.

The girl moved her notebook, curious brows raised, and there, on her desk, sat a yellow sticky note, with a sun wearing sunglasses and a little daisy sitting around the neat, swirly handwriting that read;

Come to the club room after classes, We have planning to do~

Just when she thought she'd gotten away from them, they pulled her right back into their grubby hands.

She sighed, trying to hide the slight grin that made it's way to her face. She propped her head up on one hand, staring blankly at the whiteboard at the front of the room.

I wonder what's going on this time.

It wasn't long before everyone got settled and into their seats. Now, all she had to do, was wait.

- nobody -

Everyone is so lively today.

Even more so than usual, the host club's atmosphere was effervescent, seeming to bubble over with what she assumed was excitement – even the guests were basically dancing in their seats.

"So, Kyoya! When will the annual Spring Dance be held this year?"

"Yeah! Everybody has been talking about it already, we're all so excited!"

"Well, ladies, we plan to have it soon, in early May. We're actually having preparations being made at this moment."

"Oh, wow, really!? We have to start looking at gowns, then!"

"Yes, we're looking forward to it! I wonder what the theme will be this year."

Spring Dance?

"That, my dears, is a surprise. Just know that all the hosts have worked very hard to find only the best decorations and catering for our guests."

They all swooned at Kyoya's smooth cut words, alight with his usual false cheeriness. He smiled at his guests politely, listening to their excited rambling.

Huh. I should've figured they would have one. Just slipped my mind. Maybe that's why they wanted me up here, to help with preparations?

"Oh, (N/N)-chan!!! You look so pretty!"

Almost knocked back by Honey's embrace, she hid a giggle, letting him hug her – now that it's been nearly a month, the timid girl has gotten used to her elder's childish mannerisms.

"Hello, senpai. Um, thank you!"

He laughed cutely before letting her go. "So you got Tama-chan's note? I wasn't sure if you'd come visit us today."

"Yeah, I almost didn't see it actual-"

"Oh, Princess! Welcome!"

Yet again, she was scooped up into a pair of arms, but this time, she was twirled around and around and around, before finally her feet touched the ground once more, a pair of warm hands on her shoulders.

Her cheeks were pink from that welcome, and head spinning after that twirl; she still wasn't used to Tamaki's bear hugs. As nice as they were, they always made her chest flutter and twist, as if, suddenly, the only thing that was there was warmth, and a rosy cinnamon scent that she could lose herself in.

(Y/N) smiled.

"Hi, Tamaki-senpai."

"I'm glad you came today! We have many things to discuss, like the-"

"Spring Dance?"

"Oh! Yes. I'm guessing you've heard?"

His hands fell from her shoulders, as his head tilted like that of a puppy, blonde hair shining like gold under the florescent lights that hung in chandeliers from the ceiling high above.

"Well, just now I heard some of Kyoya's visitors talking about it- oh, I think you have people waiting, senpai."

She nodded her head towards the girls waiting patiently with smiles on their pretty faces. The taller nods. "Yeah, I'll tell you more about it later, okay? So don't leave!"

"Okay, don't worry! I'll be right here."

He smiled once again before greeting his guests and walking with them to a table.

She took it upon herself to sit, folded up in a sofa situated at the back of the expansive room, and plugged her earbuds in to block out the chatter that echoed. Plucking her journal out from her bag, she balanced it on her knee, continuing a sketch she'd been working on recently–a myosotis plant, more commonly known as forget-me-not's.

Small flowers, known for their symbolism of faithful love and reminiscent feelings; their color, known as "true blue," was the color of trust, loyalty and truth. She chose these flowers for an assignment in her art class, the project being on symbolism in everyday objects.

She was a bit of a nerd for those kinds of things.

From beside the focused girl peered a curious ginger over her shoulder. A pair of honey eyes roamed across the paper, watching as her hand moved and twitched, careful yet messy in a way he hadn't really seen before.

"What're you drawing, (Y/N)?"

Music drowned out his words, earbuds nestled safely in her ears as she just continued what she was doing, unbothered.

He decided to tuck his voice away for now, watching the pencil as it dragged across the paper, quietly. He moved closer, a sheepish smile playing on his lips as he crouched, propping his arm on the armrest of the chair, head leaning close to the oblivious girl's shoulder.

He'd seen those flowers before, overflowing in the pots that sit right outside his mansion's front doors, serving as a welcome whenever he arrived home. He never realized how pretty they were until that moment.

Soon enough she turned the page, and from the corner of his eye he saw a nonchalant smile pull on her cheeks - she wrote a message in her book.

How long have you been spying on me?

Kaoru chuckled, then pulled out an earbud of hers.

"About five minutes now, actually."

"Hm. You're such a stalker, you know that?"

Closing her book she turned towards the younger twin, headphone swinging and smacking Kaoru in the face as she moved; she held back an embarrassed laugh.

"Those are forget-me-not's, right?" His head tilted, lights reflecting in his eyes like constellations.

She lit up. "Yeah. I'm just doing rough sketches for a project I'm working on... I'm pretty excited to start painting it."

"That's right!" The girl jumped at his exclamation, dropping her journal with a thud, "We've never seen your paintings before. When will you show us your winning masterpiece, (Y/-"

"What's this?"

Her cheap journal was plucked from the floor by slim hands, mischievous eyes studying the contents of the page that had revealed itself from the prior fall.

"Wai-"

"Ooh, I never took you as the obsessive type, (Y/N)."

Kaoru stood abruptly from his crouch and walked over to where his twin was in front of the poor girl, lips falling open, just a bit, just enough to suck in a breath he didn't know he needed.

"And for Tamaki, no less!"

Imprinted on the thin pages of her grimoire, was an unfinished portrait of none other than Tamaki Suoh, eyes sleepy and hair a mess, but a smile as bright as the very sun. You could feel the warmth he radiated through the page.

What took Kaoru by surprise was how much detail was put into the whole thing, even if it was a bit sloppy. It looked like it held every color in the world, even though the only thing that was there was the dull, grey lead of the pencil and bits of eraser shavings caught here and there.

She jumped up and tried to snatch it out of the taunting male's hands, though he just held it over her head.

She felt like crying; nobody was supposed to see that.

"What are you all doing?"

None other than the king himself asked, taking long strides towards the twins. Hikaru couldn't get enough of this. For one reason or another, he felt acid deep down in his stomach that bit at him from the inside, but on his tongue was the sweet taste of hell's fire, and he would deal with the burning of his conscience later.

"Seems like you have another fan, boss! Look at this."

Though, the girl wouldn't give up that easily. She jumped up once again, eyes glaring holes through the auburn's head, and a shiver crawled up his spine. He almost considered giving it back. Almost.

Tamaki was there now, and it felt like everything was in slow motion for her. Yeah, maybe she was being dramatic, but she couldn't help it. That was private and special to her, not to mention how embarrassed she'd be if he saw it.

(Y/N) disregarded how she was now chest-to-chest with Hikaru Hitachiin, and how pink dusted his cheeks as his eyes slanted down at her own ones in a silent declaration of war. The tips of her toes kissed the marble of Ouran's floors as she leaned against the much, much taller male in effort to get back what was rightfully hers, but he only stretched his arm out further, completely ignoring everyone else's presence in the now emptying room.

In that moment, nothing mattered to either of them. There was nothing else but each other and the mutual feeling of a bloody red.

...Save for the other club members of course, who watched the whole ordeal with amusement.

Kyoya sipped on his earl grey. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Hikaru is flirting, wouldn't you agree?"

Haruhi's hand clasped over her mouth in an effort not to laugh. She hummed in silent agreement. "Yeah, I'd definitely say so."

"(Y/N), you drew this...?"

It was those words that were the rain that washed the fire to ashes,  though the biting heat lingered even when she pulled apart from Hikaru. His glare snapped to the wall as he avoided eye contact. Her skin was red with embarrassment and anger, blood boiling and burning her from the inside. The older twin only stood, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together with an angry pout plastered on his rose petal lips.

Though, what she didn't know was that Hikaru was nauseous with the nasty aftertaste of guilt, pitchforks stabbing at his lungs, making it hard for him to do anything but clench his fists and bear it. He didn't care about how he made her feel. Why would he? She was just another one of Tamaki's stupid fangirls.

Right...?

He couldn't keep himself from glaring over at (Y/N) one last time.

- nobody -

Tamaki cleared his throat, clapping his hands together as all the hosts gathered and watched him.

"So, as many of you know, the annual spring dance is upon us, and we've already booked the grand hall for the ceremony."

(Y/N) listened curiously from her seat beside Mori, whom she felt safest by at the moment. He didn't ask questions; he didn't pry; he didn't do much of anything, really. His quiet presence was cooling against the fire raging red underneath her skin.

"I thought we should all gather to choose a theme. Last year's was royalty, and the decorations and dress code played off of that."

That's so like them. The girl grinned quietly to herself, finding their predictable nature entertaining. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

The girl hesitated, just for a moment, swallowing Hikaru's thorny glare like sour medicine.

"What about a vintage theme?" She spoke.

"Vintage theme...?" Tamaki questioned aloud, tilting his head slightly, just like she noticed he'd always do when thinking.

"Yeah. Like age old antiques, soft colors, lace, the like. Unless you've already done something like that, I mean.."

"No, no. Actually... That's a really good idea, (Y/N)," Kyoya flipped through his little black book, jotting down the girl's idea.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

(Y/N) shifted at the sudden voice beside her, quiet but not shy. Mori wasn't even looking at her, not sparing a single glance her way, his face bearing the same sea glass expression.

She took Mori's words to heart, those words he probably thought nothing much of. She then elaborated her thoughts, a little clearer, a little more confident.

"I think it would be really elegant, not to mention economical. We could maybe even visit a few antique shops for some of the decorations."

No one added anything in, silently willing her to continue.

"Soft colors, like cream and periwinkle and mauve would do. Maybe we can even make some kind of dress code."

Still, no one.

"...I don't know."

"That's a wonderful idea, (N/N)-chan!" Exclaimed Honey from his cozy seat on Mori's lap.

"Yeah, we've never done anything like that before. It could be really pretty," added Kaoru.

Kyoya chimed in, "Any other ideas?"

"Nope! I think this is what we're going for this year, my dear Kyoya!"

As the hosts scattered amongst themselves, Honey tucked his arms snugly around (Y/N)'s legs with a wide, sweet smile; too wide, too sweet. In the moment, though, the girl was caught up in catching butterflies in her stomach. They listened to me, she thought. Her hands subconsciously found their way around the short male's small frame, as they tended to these days.

"(N/N)-chan, do you wanna walk with us outside?"

A sheepish smile stretched her lips as she replied. "Can't, senpai. I have to prepare tomorrow's food."

"Oh, about that, (Y/N)."

Honey reluctantly loosened his hold and marched back to his tall companion. Kyoya stood at her side now, tucking his phone away safely into the pocket of his trousers.

She hummed, listening.

"We're not opening the club tomorrow, so you don't have to have anything ready. Just go home and get some rest."

(Y/N) turned her head to peer up at him. His eyes were unfocused, looking out at the blooming colors of spring outside the windows. She didn't understand what he was thinking or feeling, or if he was feeling anything at all for that matter.

In that moment, he reminded her of the darkness that separates the stars.

- nobody -

The walk home was full of life, unsurprisingly. Wildflowers and green grass lined the roads, honeybees buzzing happily as they kissed the flowers and danced with butterflies. There was still a few hours of the day left, judging by how the sun was strung in the sky, so instead she decided to walk to a local park. It was small and well-worn but very peaceful, with its rusty swings and small pond.

Ducks waddled around in and out of the water. Birds chirped back and forth in the few trees as a lady struggled to keep her small dog from chasing a poor squirrel scurrying around the base of an oak.

Settling on the swings, (Y/N) took a second to unwind. The wind was soft and carried the scent of wild roses as it soothed her skin. There were yellow daffodils happily swaying by the pond. Everything was okay in that moment.

In a swift movement the girl kicked off her shoes and hopped out of the swing, laughing at herself when she stumbled. The grass felt like silk on her callused feet as she stepped towards the large rose bush, crouching to smell its pink petals. Carefully, she plucked one, two, three, four roses and skipped away to gather a few daffodils, cattails, and dandelions.

For mom, when she gets home.

Right as she was about to steal a pinecone from its branch, her phone vibrated annoyingly in her pocket.

2 new messages from " the host club 👑✨💞"

Since when was I in a group chat??

Ignoring it, (Y/N) decided to check it out later. How did they even get her Instagram though? It didn't matter, she figured. She'd probably spent far too long at the park, anyway, if the creamy orange beginning to color the sky was any indication. It was time to head back home.

With all different kinds of plants gripped securely in her dirty hand, she retrieved her discarded shoes and gingerly walked back towards her neighborhood.

- nobody -

It wasn't until (Y/N) found herself sprawled across her bed and once more attempting to wrap-up her forget-me-not sketch that she remembered the notifications she had received from the host club prior.

The mixed bouquet of wild flowers she had managed to concoct was placed on her mother's nightstand, along with a note on which she had scrawled a short but sweet message the moment she arrived back home. Aside from that, the only things she had her mind set on were homework (regardless of how little she was assigned), dinner, and sleep. It's true, she was tired,  a bit hungry as well, but she still chose to squeeze in some relaxing time to comfortably let her pencil dance across the designated page within her journal.

It almost amazed her how lost in thought she would find herself whenever she decided to let her creative side flow as freely as it did. It's as if she would switch over to autopilot and let nothing but her hand take control while her mind soared with an intoxicated sort of vigor as it explored every idea that subconsciously came to her head.

It was for this exact reason that it took her several moments to register the lit-up screen of her phone lying atop the cluster of unmade sheets just inches away.

Setting down her pencil, (Y/N) diverted her attention to the rectangular device and awkwardly shifted positions before picking it up and unlocking it. The number of messages from earlier had since multiplied, a prominent 61 plastered on the corner of the application.

haruhi.fuji: Well I know of a few thrift shops around near my apartment. You can find all kinds of hidden gems there.

haruhi.fuji: Don't know about antique stores though, but (Y/N)-chan might know of some.

tama_king: Thrift stores????

(58 more messages)

The corners of her lips upturned just enough for her to notice.

She opened the app and scrolled through the messages, skimming through notifications and following each member back. Well, accept for Hikaru, who hadn't even followed her in the first place. Hesitantly, (Y/N) typed out a message, then deleted it, then typed it out again, then deleted it. The girl sighed, chewing on her cheek, trying to decide what to say.

tama_king: Look (Y/N)s online!!

Well, leave it to Tamaki to point her out. Said girl settled for a simple greeting.

(username): hi everyone!

haruhi.fuji: (Y/N), we were just talking about what kind of decorations we should get for the spring dance.

(username): oh, well i figured we could just go looking through local shops to find authentic antique decor

haruhi.fuji: Like all of us out shopping together??

tama_king: That sounds like fun we should go see all the commoner shops together!

(Y/N) suddenly had regrets. All eight of them, six of which all likely hadn't ever even heard of a thrift store before, out and about? Even if she was starting to grow used to the lot of them, it was a whole other thing to be seen out in public with them. It wasn't that (Y/N) was embarrassed of them, but more so bothered by how much attention they seem to bring towards themselves. The socially awkward girl wasn't sure if she could handle that very well.

(username): i mean, sure??

haruhi.fuji: That sounds... ;;;

(username): yeah ik, migjt not be the best of ideas i've had huh

(username): *might

She quietly laughed to herself, trying to shake off the dread that was already piling on her shoulders.

tama_king: No, it sounds like a great idea!!

The "Oh, what have I done," slipped past her lips as she saw none other than Kyoya himself finalize the plans.

KyoyaOotori: I see you three have been planning an outing?

KyoyaOotori: And when are we all going to do this?

It was funny, because she could practically feel him shaking his head through the screen. Maybe the two of them were more alike than she had originally thought.

She decided then that she might as well go through with it.

(username): well, earlier you said i didn't have to prep for tomorrows guests, so i'm free tomorrow after school.

tama_king: The host club was planned to be closed tomorrow for preparations to be made for the dance. i'm sure our lovely guests wouldn't mind. so Kyoya, is tomorrow okay to go out shopping?

KyoyaOotori: I suppose that it would be a good learning experience to see what low-budget commoner living is like. So, yes, that sounds just fine. I'll make sure to let the others know.

It looked like all had been settled, so she switched the device back off and let it sit to the side. The sound of the door clicking shut and the A/C being tampered with alerted the young girl of her mother's arrival home, so she skipped into the doorway to greet her.

She looked tired, just as she always did, with the same empty smile and hollow eyes. (Y/N) hugged her and in a small voice, said hello.

"Heya, Pumpkin."

There was nothing else to be said as the woman kicked off her shoes and walked into her room, no doubtedly to sleep until she had to drag herself back out to work again. (Y/N) hoped she liked the flowers she had picked out for her.

Sometimes there is no worse feeling than guilt that will eat one out from the inside.

She felt as though the way that things were running in her house functioned like an unbalanced scale. Her mother always came home exhausted and worn-out as the result of working from dawn to dusk, and it hurt the young girl's heart to see her in such poor condition. It wasn't extremely often that she would even get the chance to say hello, and rarer still that she ever had the time to hold a good conversation.

They both loved each other more than life itself, and (Y/N) knew that better than anyone else, but with all the overbearing work her mother put up with, day and night, everything just seemed...

Unfair.

Bitter and unsavory thoughts aside, one glance at the clock on the microwave reminded her of the looming drowsiness she felt gradually washing over her. It had been a long day, and the next was certain to be even longer.

With this in mind, she experienced little to no hesitation before striding off towards her bathroom to ready herself for what she hoped to a good night's rest. Once she was curled up under the cotton sheets and had her stuffed animal of choice in a loving grip (not caring about how childish she may have seemed), the bluish light of her phone caught her attention as she slowly and reluctantly lifted up one eyelid.

Reaching for the device resting on her night stand, she opened both eyes; given how she hadn't really been exposed to the darkness of her room for a prolonged amount of time, it didn't take long to adjust to the screen's luminescent glow as she focused on the message displayed on her lock screen. A single notification was shown, and (Y/N) couldn't help but allow a small smile to make its way onto her face once she had processed what it read.

haruhi.fuji: Good luck tomorrow, (Y/N). Hope you'll be able to handle a few hours out with those goofballs.

[existing-on-cloral]

Brooklyn's Night Terrors

A Steve Rogers X Reader fanfiction

The pretty scientist working to eradicate a vigilante villain catches the eye of the former Captain America. He jumps back into the time machine, becoming young again in order to live out a new life with his best friends, and perhaps her.

Paradise has a price, however.

The tracked vigilante kidnaps Sam Wilson and leaves the shield for Steve to take up one last time. Reluctantly, Steve takes on the mantle of Captain America once more as he teams up with his old pal Bucky Barnes and the beautiful and deadly smart scientist.

"Lust can cloud the mind, but love makes it clear as day."

Chapter Two: All's Fair

After a discovery about the dangerous villain, you ask Sam out for coffee. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky talk women to "help Bucky remember the 40s better".

"Well, you're starting the day off with a bang," Sharon greeted you as she entered the lab.

You waved the smoke off of the communicator you'd been trying to fix. "I pulled the wrong wire. Didn't expect for it to blow up in my face."

Sharon shrugged. "Just saying. Did you get the news?"

Still focused on waving away smoke, you shook your head. "Don't have time for much of anything anymore, with that villain woman taking over not only New York, but my schedule as well."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Sharon said, dropping a newspaper on the table. You picked it up and scanned the front page. A disturbing picture filled the top half, showing several dead bodies and a figure dressed in deep blue, a mask covering her face. The headline screamed, "Newest Villain Tormenting New York", and underneath the picture was the caption, "Photo courtesy of Peter B. Parker".

"The kid got a photo job for the Daily Bugle," you noted. "Thought that Jameson guy exposed him?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Where better to hide than right in plain sight? At least, that's what Parker seems to think." She opened the paper to the big story. "Anyway, this woman killed three men and four women that were stumbling out of a club, drunk. Left her usual message." Another picture advertised the trademark of the villain, six dots surrounding a skull's head. For the first time, you realized how familiar the symbol seemed.

"Agent Carter, get Mr. Rogers down here as fast as you can," you barked, sending Sharon sprinting from the room. You picked up the phone and made a quick call to Director Fury, which he surprisingly ignored.

Still, you were unperturbed and waited for the voicemail beep. Once it sounded, you began rambling. "Director Fury, I've found something on the new villain." You flipped through the story, noting that the reporter was taking the six dots to heart and referring to her as "the Blue Reaper". "They're calling her the Blue Reaper, but that's- that's everything to do with her symbol. And the symbol is everything. Director..." you trailed off as Captain Rogers- Steve- ran into the room. "It may be a coincidence, and Mr. Rogers just arrived to clarify-" you gave Steve a quick look and pointed to the symbol- "Her symbol looks very similar to that of HYDRA. She could be working for a new branch or something."

"Cut off one head, two more grow back," Steve muttered, tracing his fingers over the blue spray paint in the picture.

"Director Fury, please give me a call back soon, I'd like to discuss this further. Thank you." You hung up, still not entirely confident in the former director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Steve picked up the paper and stared at the symbol, trying to make sense of it. "I don't understand. I thought HYDRA was done and gone for good."

You exhaled sharply and slammed a hand on the table, which caused the already smoking communicator to completely blow itself up. "Dammit!" Now the stupid thing was most definitely beyond repair.

"I think you need a stress break," Steve suggested. "Take an hour or two, I'll analyze this and the article and get back to you."

Nodding, you picked up your bag and headed for the door. Steve was being so generous... then a thought came to mind.

"Steve."

He turned around, giving you his full attention, something the other workers and scientists barely ever achieved.

"Could you look at past articles? That might help your search as well."

Steve smiled. "It would be my pleasure. Go. Take some time."

You turned and stalked out the door, ready to run off to the nearest coffee shop and chug as many espressos as you could without achieving spontaneous combustion (like your communicator). As you were nearing the entrance to the building, however, you remembered your promise to Sharon. Luckily, Sam was in the lobby, bringing in some paperwork.

"Hey, Sam!" you called out. "Do you have some time to grab coffee?"

Sam dropped the paperwork at the front desk and grinned. "I absolutely have time for coffee! Especially for my favorite doctor." He offered you his arm cheekily, but even with his bad humor, you giggled and took it.

"Thank you. I stumbled upon something major in an article and Steve suggested I take some time to process it." You pushed open the door before Sam could get it for you, but to your surprise he looked genuinely disappointed. "In any case, I don't want to talk about vigilantes, or the Blue Reaper, or skulls, or HYDRA. I'd like to get to know you, as Sam, not Captain America."

"I'd love that!" Sam returned, giving you a bright smile. "I know this great coffee house that's within walking distance from here. The coffee is really excellent and cheap, too!"

You allowed Sam to lead you to the little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, where a sign over the door read, "The Falcon's Nest". Chuckling, you elbowed Sam. "Sure it's just for the cheap coffee? Or is there an ulterior motive?"

Sam shrugged. "I knew the owner back in my military days. He opened a coffee shop and after I became the Falcon, he changed the name to commemorate me."

"That's nice of him," you said, pulling open the door for Sam. He snapped his fingers and made a pretend angry face at you.

"One of these days, I'll show you chivalry isn't dead!" he vowed, propping the door open with his hand and refusing to let go until you walked inside. You did, smiling to yourself at Sam's cute antics.

Sam ordered for the two of you, insisting on paying for your drink. The barista recognized Sam immediately and gave him an over-the-counter hug, then asked, "Who's this lovely lady?"

With pride in his voice, Sam introduced you, tacking on, "My favorite doctor," before grabbing the drinks and making a beeline for a table.

"What was that all about?" you asked, taking your drink from Sam.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "That's my buddy. Ever since he got his leg blown off he jokes that it's his best way to pick up girls. I knew he'd start flirting with you, and to be honest, I wanted to talk to you before other men started making passes or anything."

A warm feeling bubbled up in your chest and you giggled. "That's sweet, Sam."

Sam grabbed your hand, pulling your arm a tiny bit so you leaned forward and across the table. "Don't tell me I'm the only one feeling this."

You shook your head. "You're not."

He relaxed, letting go of your hand. "I just thought that you'd prefer one of the others. A real Avenger, even."

"Are you kidding?" you scoffed. "Bucky's flirty, Bruce is a little too big, Thor is off who-knows-where, Parker is way too young for me, and Steve..." you trailed off, unable to come up with a good reason to prefer Sam over Steve. Mentally kicking yourself, you joked, "I'm not on the Carter family tree."

Sam laughed. "I'm glad, I suppose." He fell silent, staring down at the whipped cream in his latte. "Thanks for asking me to coffee," he finally said.

You took your own drink and held it out in a toast. "It was my pleasure, Sam. To this... whatever... that I feel for Sam Wilson!"

He clunked his own cup against yours, laughing. "To this... whatever I feel for my sweet doctor."

  "Women!" Bucky said, writing the word in big letters on the top of a college-professor-sized whiteboard. "Any questions so far? Don't worry, you'll have some."

Steve, sitting in the back of the room so Bucky would be forced to yell, returned, "I just want to know about one woman, you jackass!"

"Shut up, punk, school's in session," Bucky shot back, threatening Steve with an Expo marker. "As I was saying." He drew a line underneath the word women. "They are fickle creatures, sharing their love- otherwise known as THE FUCK-" "Language." "-with whoever they feel has big dick energy."

"Two things." Steve raised his hand. "One, it's whomever."

Bucky threw the Expo marker with amazing accuracy. It thonked Steve in the forehead and dropped onto his paper, leaving a big blue mark. "I'm an expert on women, not grammar. Let me teach."

"Second thing," Steve pressed on, "Big dick energy?"

"Yeah!" Bucky seemed far too enthusiastic for someone who was casually throwing around the word dick as if he was talking about a renowned actor or a king of England. "Peter taught it to me. It means you exude manliness and you're very masculine, or whatever. Anyway."

Steve groaned. When he had asked Bucky to teach him about how women worked and how you could ask one out, he had not expected a crash course in Bucky's idiocy from the forties. He swore up and down that he was still trying to help Bucky "remember his past" but he just wanted to work on his own future.

"To ask one out, make sure the timing is good." Bucky wrote timing underneath the big line. "If you ask a woman out at the wrong time, such as when you has just crashed her father's very expensive new car, you will get slapped, rejected, and possibly kicked in the balls."

Steve recalled the day Bucky had crashed his date's father's car on the way to a fair and burst out laughing. Another marker smacked into his chest. At least the lesson was helping Bucky too.

"The second thing is how you ask her out." Bucky wrote method. He turned to Steve, face completely serious. "Do not ask out a woman by singing your own rendition of 'The Star-Spangled Banner' off key in front of her entire friend group. You will get laughed at, and possibly kicked in the balls."

"Hurry up, Barney Stinson, I have a woman I would love to ask out and I'd really like to know how," Steve griped, throwing the markers back at Bucky. Amazingly, one of them hit Bucky. Steve smirked, a little proud of himself.

Unfortunately, it had hit Bucky's metal arm, so he just picked it up and shot Steve a glare. "I understood that reference, and also, don't throw markers. It's disrespectful. Now, if you want to ask this wonderful-sounding lady out, just walk up to her and say- not scream- the words 'Hey, would you like to go out for ice cream sometime?' Works every time, because you're not implying that it's a date in any way." Bucky folded his arms and gave Steve a smug smile. At least he would have if Steve was still sitting in the back of the room. "Steve?"

The Steve in question was running down the hallway of S.P.E.C.I.A.L. headquarters, looking for the scientist that he couldn't get out of his mind. When he reached the lobby, he spotted Sharon and grabbed her arm. "Sharon, where's the doctor you came to look at the time machine with?"

Sharon gave him a Look. "We have more pressing things to worry about, Steve."

"Like what?" Steve asked. "Other than, you know, the Reaper terrorizing New York City."

"That's the problem," Sharon pulled a note from her pocked. "Our doctor just got back from a coffee date with Sam." Steve's heart sank, but he reminded himself that, technically, he'd been the one to tell you to get coffee. Sharon continued talking, slowly drawing a piece of paper out of her pocket. "But Sam didn't return with her. According to her, the Reaper kidnapped him and left her this note."

Steve grabbed the piece of paper, unfolding it until he could read the words written in blood-red ink. So much for Captain America.

His eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, and he threw the note to the ground. Steve looked up as his doctor ran in, looking so scared and yet so dangerously beautiful. "I need my shield," he said, locking eyes with her.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Final Part)

Katara doesn’t see much of Azula for the next few weeks. With her lawsuit in full swing, she only gets to see the girl in class and only gets to have real conversations with her during lunch, that is if she is in school at all. A good handful of her court dates seem to take place during school hours. When she does have a day off, she spends it catching up on home and classwork. Katara feels awful for her, she doesn’t seem to have any breaks. Not that it seems to bother her, she has mentioned once or twice that it helps keep her mind off of things to be bogged down with assignments. 

And, for what it’s worth, the trials are going flawlessly. Between her own testimonies and those of her former surgone’s, Katara doubts that Kho has a chance. 

Azula sits down next to her and hands her a brownie. It smells heavenly and looks just as amazing. She has topped it with a strawberry and a zigzag of chocolate syrup. Katara gives it a taste, finding that the flavor is absolutely rich. “I didn’t realize that you were so good at cooking.” 

“I have many talents.” Azula shrugs. “Hidden or otherwise.” She smiles, and this time the smile reaches the right side of her face too. It doesn’t seem to span as wide, but it is reassuring all the same. She can only imagine how thrilling that it must be for Azula. 

She takes Azula’s hand, “is everything still going well with the trials.” 

“Very.” Azula confirms. “We’ll be wrapping them up by the end of the week. And once I win I plan on celebrating with a trip to the mall. I promised that I’d buy TyLee a certain dress. She doesn’t know it yet…”

“Why are you suing him if you can already pay for the damages yourself?” Chan asks upon sitting down.

“Spite.” Mai answers for her. “A good old fashion vendetta. I admire that.”

Yue drops into her chair next. She looks Azula over, “I think that your face looks less fucked up today.” She comments. 

Katara has never seen her girlfriend look less amused. 

“Like, that was a compliment.” Yue says.

“You have a way with words.” Azula grumbles. 

“I’m like one of those old guys that writes poetry. What are they called?”

Katara catches Toph giving her a thumbs up across the table, she can’t imagine why. 

Azula inhales deeply and casts an almost pleading look at Katara. 

“Poets.” Katara replies. “They’re called poets.” 

Yue bursts out laughing. “Oh you guys should see the looks on your faces!” 

“Does that mean that you know what a poet is?” Suki asks.

Yue nods, “Toph said that it would be funny to pretend like I didn’t.” 

“And you thought that it would be a good idea to lead into that by insulting Azula’s face?” Chan asks. 

Azula gives a dismissive wave. “She hurt herself too.” 

“I did not.”

“Yue, you just found out that we all think you really are that airheaded.” Katara pointed out. 

“Oh.” She says softly. “Oh…” 

“Wo-ow” Chan rolls his eyes.

Katara chuckles to herself. She wonders what she would have had to say about this a year prior. She can’t imagine that a younger her would have ever anticipated sitting at a table with this clique--with Yue--muchless, having a pleasant conversation with her. She couldn’t have predicted it any more than she would have guessed than Azula would be giving her little handmade gifts.  Azula, who she had kind of just assumed was just like every other arrogant rich girl in the school. Katara supposes that maybe she had been, at least to a degree…

.oOo.

Katara wears a look, a distant one that Azula has trouble interpreting. “What are you thinking about?” She asks. 

“Just that it’s kind of weird to be sitting here.”

Azula tilts her head but TyLee is the one who poses the question, “what do you mean, you fit in just fine.”

“No, no, I mean…” She pauses, what does she mean? “I just didn’t think that you guys would think that I’m...cool.”

Another burst of laughter from Yue, followed by an, “oh, no, don’t get any of us wrong, you’re still a major dork.” She pauses. “Like that key chain you always carry around with you and that dumb dolphin notebook...dork stuff. All of it. And only nerds like science and outer space.”

Azula opens her mouth. 

“Oh, you were under the impression that we didn’t think you were also a dork this whole time.” She gives it a moment to sink in. “Yeah, even before the surgeries...total…” she jabs her finger against Azula’s forehead. “Geek.”

“I hate you.” Azula grumbles. 

“Tell her, Chan!” Yue exclaims. 

He rubs the back of his head, “yeah, you’re pretty much a dork.” He seems to consider for a moment. “But with style and personality.” 

Azula looks at TyLee who remains quiet. “You think so to don’t you?” 

TyLee nuzzles her cheek against Azula’s. “Yeah, just a little.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks stiffly. 

“Because you’re kind of scary.” Mai shrugs. Even she laughs, “geez, you look so victimized right now.” 

“I’m just trying to eat my lunch and you’re telling me that I’ve been a nerd this whole time.” Azula replies. 

“Correct.” Yue nods. 

“But you’re a cool nerd.” Toph punches her bicep. 

“This whole time…” Azula whispers to herself. This whole time and yet they had treated her like she belonged. Like she was the leader of their posse. She looks to Katara. 

“They’re your friends.” Katara shrugs. “And they’re all like you.”

“This is what we’ve been trying to tell you.” Chan says. “We didn’t keep you around because you had looks and money. We talk to you because you’re you. I don’t think that I’ve met anyone quite like you before.” 

Suddenly the jesting gives way to something less entertaining. “Is that a good thing?” 

“You get all of these straight A’s but, Jesus, you’re clueless about people.” Mai replies. 

“It’s a good thing.” TyLee smiles. 

Azula’s smile is significantly more sheepish when it comes back, “I suppose that that’s good to know.” 

“Sounds like things are getting deep and gushy over here.” Jet remarks. “Christ, I leave for a few weeks and all of you hop aboard the dweeb train. And you’re trying to make it sound cute and quirky.” 

“Fuck off, Jet.” Chan grumbles. 

“I guess, with a face like that you have to settle for mediocre.” Jet eyes Katara.

“I’m not dating you.” Azula tries to raise a brow, momentarily forgetting that she can no longer do so. Instead she quirks the left one. 

“Yeah, but I bought you a gift anyways.” He drops a doll onto the table and turns it over. The plastic is gashed and beaten; clearly the boy had taken a screwdriver and possibly a hammer to its face. “Just thought I’d give you a doll that looks like you, we’re all about inclusivity here, right lads?” He asks of his new gang. 

Azula takes the mutilated doll, almost feeling sorry for it. 

“So what’s worse?” He asks Smellerbee, “plastic or broken plastic.” 

“It’s all fake, Jet. At least when it’s not broken, it looks good.” Smellerbee shrugs. 

Chan rises, but Azula holds him in place. “I can speak for myself, Chan.”

“Then do it?” Yue says.

“I could.” Azula replies. “I could remind Jet that he used to shove crayons up his own nose when he got mad. I could remind him that I remember every secret he shared when we were kids.” 

He goes tense. 

“And the ones he told me last year.” She turns to Smellerbee. “Has he shown you this picture yet?” She scrolls through her phone and finds the image she’d taken when they had gone to the beach that summer. “My dad had to drive into town and buy him new trunks because he couldn’t seem to find his.” 

Azula thinks that the color in his face is in equal parts anger and humiliation. She digs through her shoulder bag and pulls out a red crayon. She holds it out to him, “you look pretty angry.” 

.oOo.

Toph is still laughing as they wander down the hallway, her face red with it. Occasionally she slaps a locker in delight. Not that Katara isn’t feeling exactly the same. To know that Jet is probably feeling exactly as sick as he made her feel during homecoming. 

She wonders how he had forgotten that he had told Azula so many embarrassing things about himself…

She can’t help but feel somewhat sad. Dreary at the realization that he and Azula had been that close at one point. That they had been friends since they were children young enough to do ridiculous things like shove crayons into their noses in protest. 

“It kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Toph asks.

“That he used to be just another silly kid and now look at him.” 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Katara!” Toph declares. “We just had a great victory.” 

“Yeah...I guess.”

“And you’re going to have another one in a few hours!” 

It takes her a moment to realize that Toph is referring to the astronomy club. She spends the next several hours crossing her fingers and shooting silent prayers. She is jittery and antsy when she arrives in the classroom after hours. Azula slips into the chair next to her. “Nervous?”

Katara nods. 

“Don’t be.” 

Katara swallows. But how can she not be. This is her entire future. Her best opportunity to help bring her family out of a tight spot. 

Pathik, awkward as ever stumbles before the whiteboard. He haphazardly lays down an arm full of papers and certificates. “So glad that you can all be here for our last meeting before winter break. This year, has been the most impressive yet. There are more faces here today than I’ve ever seen in this club. It’s wonderful to see so many people enthusiastic about the mysteries of our galaxy.” He pauses. “There have been so many grand achievements this year. We have people who didn’t know a lick about astronomy suddenly passing my class with perfect test scores.” He holds up a slip of paper and a hand held telescope with a painted silver moon. “Improvement like that is just as important as those who had straight A’s from the start.” He makes his way to Yue’s desk and sets the certificate and telescope in front of her. “After I announce the honorable mentions and winners of our NIR-Ex trip and scholarship, we’ll celebrate you achievement by going moon gazing!” 

Yue’s face lights up. 

He leans towards Yue and says quieter, “you and I both know that you have a brilliant mind, you ought to show it to people.” 

He makes his way back to the front of the classroom. “It truly was hard to choose the winner of the scholarship and NIR-Ex trip. I have two pupils who are just as worthy. That is why I pushed for a double prize. NIR-Ex labs has been kind enough to allow two people to attend. Unfortunately, there will be only one recipient of the Lake Laogai scholarship.” 

Katara feels her face grow clammy. “Azula and Katara, I am pleased to tell you that your next date will be at NIR-Ex.” 

Katara rolls her eyes at the smoochy faces Yue and Sneers make as she and Azula walk to the front of the classroom.

“The two of you have been stellar pupils!” Pathik declares. “Absolute stars!” 

Katara can’t even count the number of eye rolls that has earned him. 

“I truly do wish that I could pick both of you.” He pauses. “Congratulations Azula...”

Katara’s stomach reels. She wants to be happy for her girlfriend...she truly does. But she feels sick to her stomach. Nauseous as she smiles at Azula and pulls her into a congratulatory hug. Nauseous as she breaks the news to her mother and father.

She tells them not to be spiteful towards Azula when she brings her over next.

.oOo. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” Azula asks. There is a tension in the air and it makes her uncomfortable. She hasn’t seen Katara since winter break began and it is beginning to eat away at her. “There’s a gazebo in the park if you want to meet there.” She doesn’t tell Katara that she is already sitting there. She just hopes that the other girl will show up. 

Her hands tremble and it is not entirely the fault of the frosty gusts that rattle the gazebo. Azula fidgets with the garland that lines the gazebo railing a shimmer of silver and gold. 

“Hey.” Katara greets. Her eyes look puffy and forlorn. 

Azula adjusts her hat and returns the greeting. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

She pats the spot on the bench next to her and Katara sits. “A few things.” 

“I’m not mad at you.” Katara says quickly. “You worked really hard for that scholarship.” 

“Yes.” Azula replies. “But I can pay the tuition in full…” She trails off. “I can’t give you the scholarship, but I can give you this.”  She slides Katara an envelope. 

“Azula…” She trails off. “I can’t take this.” 

“Then pretend like Kho is paying for it...technically he is.” She shrugs. 

“But this is your compensation.” 

Azula shrugs. “Father takes care of me well enough.” 

Azula has never seen such a wide smile on any one person’s face. That hopeful and excited glimmer in Katara’s eyes as she pulls her into what is probably the tightest hug that she has ever received is a gift. “I was going to wait until Christmas but I didn’t want you to mope around for our entire break. It would have been bothersome.”  

“I love you too, Azula.” Katara chuckles. She wipes at her eye. “What else did you have to tell me?” 

Azula takes a deep breath. “I’m going to get it fixed.” 

Katara cocks her head. 

She gestures to her face. “I talked to my old surgone, he does medical surgeries too. It won’t happen for at least a year, but I’m going to have some reversal surgery.” 

“Azula.” Katara’s brows scrunch. “I thought that you were going to try to…”

“I am trying to accept myself.” Azula replies. “That’s why I’m having him bring my face back, my old face. Before the first surgeries.” She pauses. “It’s not a cosmetic thing this time. It’s…” she thinks for a moment, “it’s like having your face fixed after a bad car accident. He says that correcting some of the damaged facial structures will give me more movement again.” 

Katara nods, seeming to accept the explanation, but she isn’t quite done. “He says that the surgery won’t remove the scars and some of the lumps might still be there. That I can get a cosmetic procedure done to have those fixed…”

“Are you going to?” 

Azula shakes her head. “Just the one that will help me get more movement in my face. I don’t mind the scars.” 

“Or the lumps?” 

“Those bother me.” She confesses. “But I suppose that  I’ll get over it. If Zuzu can get over whatever is going on with his face, I can do the same.” 

“Really?” Katara laughs. “You’re bringing him into this one.”

“I’ll insult him at every opportunity, it’s what the two of us do.” She pauses. “And I have to make the most of it because he’s moving in with mother this summer. He says that his dream college is closer to her home.” 

“Why does he want to go to school so far away?” 

“Uncle teaches there.” She replies. “Culinary arts.” 

Katara nods. 

“Anyways, I’m staying because there has to be at least one ‘wild hormonal teenage nightmare’ to drive father mad...and make sure he keeps going to his therapy appointments.” She pauses. “Oh and there also might be someone else worth sticking around for.” 

“I’m glad that you’re sticking around. I don’t know if I can tolerate Yue without you.” 

“Of course not.” Azula tucks her bangs behind her ears. 

“I guess things are going to be different next year…” Katara gazes up at the ceiling of the gazebo.

“Things are going to be different after winter break.” She shrugs. “Hopefully this time they’ll be a good different. “ Katara leans into her and Azula strokes the top of her head. 

“You’re wearing gloves this time.” Katara notes. “I think that they will be...a good different, I mean.”

[mistymark]

the one with the cover [1] // j.y.n

part of the 21 jump street series  // jung jaehyun x reader // 3.7k words // masterlist

summary; in which jaehyun and y/n are detectives working undercover at NCT U as new recruits of the jump street program

warnings; violence (mentions of gun shots, gangs), frequent mention of drugs, mentions of overdose and other possible effects of drug use

requested; no :P

notes; testing out a new au !! we’ll see how it goes // also do u like the pun in NCT U?????? I think im so clever lmao

“Switch off the headlights,” he mumbles to you in the dark, the binoculars held against his face as he watches the shed door.

You do as he said, though with an eye roll, and stare vaguely in the direction of the large shed. It’s almost like a hangar, the darkness of the night shielding the entrance from view with only a small amount of light illuminated from a single bulb by the dock. A large metal roller door is firmly closed, a much smaller door beside it safely locked shut from the inside.

The other cars parked around you are of similar model and age to the cover car, the faded black paint matching the dull hues of the vehicles along the curb.

“Door’s opening,” Jaehyun reports, quickly glancing over the top of the binoculars, and pointing at one of the men exiting the building. “The duffel bag. That’s the trade-off.”

You nod and watch the man walk to one of the glossy, no doubt new, cars parked by the warehouse, and record the number plate. Ducking down to send the plate to the awaiting officers, you shield the light from illuminating the car and exposing you.

Suddenly, there are shouts, and you reach your arms over your head to protect yourself from the incoming bullets, the shots echoing loudly into the night. Jaehyun immediately does the same, leaning down below the dash. There are blue and red lights illuminating your car and the street as police patrol cars speed down the deserted road, officers stepping out with their guns raised, waiting to arrest the men from the warehouse.

“We had them,” you stated through gritted teeth, huffing and crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at your captain. “I was sending the plates to Friedland and suddenly it was a shooting range.”

“Detective L/N, the commissioner said you would have until midnight, so that’s what they gave you,” Captain Holland pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to hide the frustration on his face.

Jaehyun leans forward, resting his arms on the table as he analyses the captain’s expression, “He got away, didn’t he?”

At this, Captain straightens, “That is not information you need to know. You two have been removed from the case.”

You and Jaehyun stand up, your chairs falling backwards, “What?”

“You were told this was your saving grace from an already bad streak. According to my superiors, this case should’ve been solved by now. You’ve been removed. The commissioner’s assigning two detectives from the sixty-fifth precinct to take over.”

Huffing in annoyance, you pick up your chair and drop down into the seat, “So, what do we now? Help the new detectives?”

Jaehyun glances at you worriedly, “There’s gotta be a hand-off, right? Show them everything we’ve learnt and-”

“No.” Holland grabs your attention again and steps back from the small metal table. By the way he was standing, and the fact that it was an interrogation room, you felt as though you were the criminal, the one being interrogated. One quick glance at Jaehyun told you he was feeling the same way. “There will be no hand-off process. You two are being moved to another division.”

“We’re being demoted?!” You were incredulous; despite the recent bad luck with this case, you and Jaehyun were the best detectives at the precinct.

“Reassigned,” Holland corrected, and glanced back at the large metal door, the small window revealing a short man in a suit. He cocked his head to the side in invititation. The smaller man walked in.

“Detective L/N, Detective Jung, so nice to finally meet you,” the man took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the table, the one the captain had refused to sit in. The way he spoke made you feel that it wasn’t nice to finally meet you, and his smile was taut on his face. “I’m Mr Choi, manager of the reassignment office.” You had to resist from rolling your eyes. There was no reassignment office; just a small disgusting corner in which the reassignment officers worked. This guy probably ‘manages’ three people.

You glanced at your captain who, from the slight lift at the corner of his mouth and the raised eyebrow, was also disbelieving of this man’s position. The fact that the captain was amused made you feel a little better.

Until he spoke again.

“You’re being assigned to the Jump Street Program.”

“The jisp?” Jaehyun’s mouth dropped open.

“No way. Is this a prank?” You glanced at the captain, who’s face had returned to its normal neutral expression. He gave you a piercing look, and you shut your mouth, turning back to Mr Choi.

“The Jump Street Program is one of the most covert operations of the state, and we thought it would be best since you’ve been dropped from the Genghis case.”

“That program is a joke,” you glanced between the men before you, looking from the captain to the manager. “They’ve never solved a case.”

“And that’s what we’re hoping to change. You two are some of the best detectives in the state, and now that you’ve been pulled from your case, it’s the perfect opportunity to improve the Jump Street Program.”

Your captain moved his arms to his suit pant pockets, “You will receive more information by the end of the day. You are to tell no one of your whereabouts. The precinct thinks you are going undercover for a few months; do not make them think otherwise.”

You hold the paper out in front of you again before glancing up at the building before you. Maybe it’s the broken windows, or the massive keep out scrawled across the front doors, but you think you’re in the wrong place.

“Hey,” Jaehyun calls out to you from his car, a small beaten blue thing that looks like it belongs on the street of decrepit buildings. “I drove down here twice thinking I’m in the wrong place. Is this it?”

You glance at the writing again, 21 Jump Street, East Neol. “It says 21 here,” you point at the masses of graffiti covering the front of the building, “It says 21 there.”

Jaehyun pulls his backpack over his shoulder and grabs the duffel bag from his feet, “Guess we should go in, then.”

You watch him walk up the steps of the building, almost falling down the concrete stairs when a rock shifts under his foot and decide to follow him inside.

The inside of the building matches its exterior; old, dilapidated and empty. You catch sight of a red arrow painted on one of the walls, under slogans of expletives and follow it through a doorway to what probably used to be a kitchen. Another red arrow points you to the kitchen cupboard and you open it, revealing a lit stairway downwards. The cleanliness of stairway indicates it’s probably what you’re looking for, and you hope it’s not leading to a secret meth lab as you begin your descent.

“Y/n?” You hear Jaehyun’s voice call from another room.

“Yeah, kitchen.” You call back and carry your bags down the stairs and find a girl sitting at a stark white desk, looking rather bored.

You open your mouth to ask her if you’re in the right place when she looks up, but she gives you an unimpressed look, “You’re late.”

Without another word, she opens a drawer in the desk and presses a button, the wall to her right sliding open to reveal a large basement. The place is about as large as a church, with a few tables scattered around with large computers and what appears to be old lab equipment, the type you’d see in high schools. At the centre of the room, below a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, is a large glass box, a single white desk inside and a scowling man looking right at you. Jaehyun joins your side after a moment, and raises his eyebrows in awe at the space.

The scowling man lets the door of his office open, and slides a microphone along his desk. When he speaks, it echoes around the room, “For detectives, it sure took you a long time to find this place.” He breaks into a faux grin, no doubt already unimpressed with you. You hear him mumble “I told them we didn’t need anymore” as he slid the microphone back along his desk, before rising to exit the glass cube.

You share a confused look with Jaehyun as the man approaches you. He shrugs and walks to meet the man. As he approaches, you denote that he is much younger than your previous captain, probably only a few years older than yourself. But a quick look around at all the other people working silently tells you everyone here is probably a lot older than they appear. They have to fit in at universities and high school after all.

When he meets you, he promptly turns on his heel and starts walking to the corner of the room, a large whiteboard and a few chairs set up around it the only things adorning it. “I don’t believe in standing around and talking. Walk with me. I’m the Captain of the JSP, we’re currently investigating a recent outbreak of the drug Genghis that has infiltrated Neol Computer Tech University,” your widened eyes match Jaehyun’s, “and we have already sent a few officers to pose as students, but, maybe, it might be useful to have some detectives on the case. Sit down.”

He gestures to the picnic chairs facing the whiteboard and turns on a projector. You do as he says and drop your bags by your feet.

“This is what the Genghis looks like: a small plastic baggy with a picture of the one and only Genghis Khan on the front. You’ll know you’ve got the real thing when Khan is holographic. There have been two hospitalisations and one death at NCT U already, all three victims seemingly have no relations; no common courses, clubs, no reason to meet or speak.” The slide flicks from a photo of the drug to a picture of a girl, “Catherine Smith, hospitalised after a house party two weeks ago. In the middle of completing her PhD in Biochemistry.” The slide changes again. “Michael Lee, hospitalised after almost overdosing in his dorm room. His roommate came home and called the ambulance. First year in an Arts degree. Member of the campus football club.” He changes the slide again. A girl in glasses beams widely at the camera. You hear the captain’s voice soften slightly, “Elizabeth Kim, died of organ failure after Genghis caused toxic hepatitis in her liver. Last year of her commerce degree, she was working at an internship in the city, had a long-term boyfriend and, according to her closest friends and family, had never been in contact with recreational drugs.”

It felt like the other people in the room had quietened at the mention of Elizabeth Kim.

“She died three weeks into our investigation.” He glanced around the room, “It’s still pretty raw.” A quick glance at you and Jaehyun made his lips quirk up into a grin you couldn’t tell was real or fake, “Ready to receive your assignments?”

The boxes were stacked high in the hallway as you pushed through to find your dorm room. Jaehyun followed behind you, a box held in his hands, “Wait, aren’t you 223?”

“Yeah, why?” You examined each sign on the door as you passed, looking for your room.

“Uh, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s back here.”

You spun around and walked towards him, looking at the door number he was pointing to, “Oh.” You grabbed your card from your pocket, shifting the box in your arms as you attempted to open the door with one hand.

The door swung open to reveal your dorm, one side already fully furnished, posters adorning the walls and piles of paper already sat on the desk on the right side. A girl who looks to be about your age spins around in the desk chair when the door bangs against the wall and grins, immediately standing to shake your hand, “Hi, I’m Abigail. I’m your roommate! I hope you don’t mind I took the bed on the right; I thought you might prefer the room away from the stairwell.”

You were shocked at her eagerness and shook her hand, “Y/n. Nice to meet you. And no, that’s fine, thank you.”

You turn to Jaehyun, who looks amusedly on at your encounter, and wrinkle your nose at him. Abigail leans to the side to see the door, and her mouth drops slightly at the sight of Jaehyun, “Oh, is this your boyfriend?” She walks forward with her hand out to greet him, and he awkwardly places the box he’s carrying in the middle of the doorway to shake it.

“Uh, no. This is my brother, Jaehyun.”

Her smile seems to broaden slightly, “It’s a pleasure. I’m Abigail.”

He nods at her with a small smile and a simple, “Hi.”

Jaehyun kicks the box to the side and you scowl at the possibility of something breaking. His grin widens, “You’ll be alright to bring the rest of your stuff up, right? I’ve gotta go find my room.”

You nod and shout a quick thanks as you begin unpacking the meagre amounts of things in the boxes. When the door closes, Abigail turns to you, “Oh my God, I know I just met you, but your brother is gorgeous.”

You smile awkwardly at the comment, and point to the box you’d just finished unpacking, “Do you know where I should put this?”

She grins and grabs it from you, “Hot tip: keep the boxes in the bottom of your wardrobe. They’re really good for storage and for when you eventually move out. Unless you’re like me and live in this room for years.”

“You’ve lived in this room for years?”

She shrugs and lays down on her bed, “Yeah, I’m in my final year of commerce, and then I’m free!” She waves her hands above her head. You mentally note that she’s in the same course and year as the Genghis victim, wanting to ask her about that some more once you get to know her. “I’ve been in room 223 for the past four years, and I’ve always had the right side, even though it’s the bad side. I don’t know, I guess I’m just used to the foot traffic from the stairwell.” She pats the wall contently, as though the sounds of people moving around when you’re trying to sleep isn’t the most infuriating thing in the world.

You nod and laugh, “Wow, I’m in my second year. I did my first at Neol State.”

“Is your brother new, too?”

It takes you a second to remember Jaehyun is your brother now. “Yeah, he’s first year. Something in Commerce, I never listen.”

“I’d listen to anything if it came from that face,” Abigail sighs, before quickly sitting up. “Wait, do you know about the student mixer on the North Lawn tomorrow? Everyone goes. We should go together! You can invite your brother, too. It’s not fancy, but make sure you wear something nice; it’s good for scouting boys.”

You nod again and remind her you still need to unpack, and she smiles in understanding before leaving the room to help a girl across the hall manoeuvre a couch into her dorm room.

When you’ve finally finished unpacking and sit on your (now made) bed, you glance over at Abigail’s side of the room. It’s quiet without her there – she’d gone to meet some friends – and you took the opportunity to read some of the information your new captain had sent you about Genghis. Most of it, you already knew, due to your own Genghis case, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty at the knowledge that if you’d caught the suppliers sooner, these students might not have been hospitalised or killed.

You had texted Jaehyun to find him, and possibly catch up to make a plan, but he hadn’t responded yet.

Part of you was excited to experience university life, having gone straight to the police academy after doing a degree before you’d graduated high school through an early commencement program, and becoming a detective. You had met Jaehyun at the academy, and, whilst you had been shocked by his immensely attractive features, you’d quickly become fast friends after being partnered up for a few assignments. You’d worked so well together that you ended up graduating and being accepted to the same precinct, and later working together once again.

“Knock, knock!” You heard Jaehyun’s melodic voice from behind your bedroom door, and you were surprised at the excitement and joy evident in his voice, even though it was slightly muffled from the wood separating you. You got up from your bed and opened the door, only to be greeted by a slightly wet Jaehyun, his hair sticking to his face, clothes to his chest and water dripping down his arms.

You raised your eyebrows at him and walked to throw him a towel, “Why are you wet?”

“My roommate is part of the water polo club, they had a water fight on the lawn to promote it so more people would sign up,” he grinned at you, shaking the towel into his hair to dry it. “I came to ask you what clubs you’re signing up for. I thought I’d take chess and water polo like Michael, and Elizabeth was in a Christian society, so I thought I’d join that. Can you take Catherine’s clubs?”

You nodded and grabbed a bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “Wasn’t she in the dog society? And chocolate society?”

He bumped his shoulder against yours as you walked down the hallway, “Those are the clubs you want to take.”

You laughed and pushed him away, “Don’t do that, you’re wet!”

He held his arms out, “Is this an invitation for a hug? I think you want a hug.”

You held your fists out in front your face, “Touch me again and I’ll punch you into the next dimension.”

He backed off almost immediately, struggling to walk from laughing so hard, “You know, you can’t threaten to punch people here. They don’t know how good you are at it, and they’ll underestimate you, or think you’re joking.”

You pressed the button for the elevator, “Yeah, but you know I’m not.”

He followed you into the lift, a cheeky grin evident on his face, “True.”

“Join the NCT U A Cappella Club! It’s super fun and you don’t have to have experience!” A girl in a bright pink shirt shouted in your ear as you passed the a cappella club table. You shrunk forwards in an effort to get out of ear shot.

“She definitely has a voice on her,” you say, glancing around at the club tables and societies adorning the lawn.

“Yeah, you should join. Oh, wait, they don’t have an Attitude Club, here,” Jaehyun laughs as he dodges your fist, and soon joins you again by your side and walks between the tables. “How many clubs have you joined?”

“None yet,” you frown at the list on your phone. “So you’re taking chess- ” You stop to look up at Jaehyun, “Do you even know how to play chess?”

“Well, no, but I can learn,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Can’t be that hard.” His gaze shifts to a group of boys in black and white shirts laughing and hitting each other across the lawn. The sign above their table reads “NCT U Bosses” but the sign on the front of the table reads “Alpha Nu”. Jaehyun looks back down at you, “When you’ve joined some clubs, let me know which ones I need to join, okay?”

You turned as he walked around you, “Wha- where are you going?”

“I’m,” he pointed at himself, grinning, “going to join a frat.”

You rolled your eyes as he winked and turned around to walk away from you towards the fraternity’s table. “Make good choices,” you mumbled after him.

“I’ll meet you for dinner, yeah?” Jaehyun yells.

You hold up a thumbs up to gesture that yes, you will meet him for dinner later, and walk over to the first club you need to join.

“I joined Habitat for Humanity and the Youth Charity Society,” you said, picking at the fries next to your burger in the small diner opposite Jaehyun. “How many community service clubs did Catherine join?”

Jaehyun laughed and stole a fry from your plate, “Considering I had to join the Wildlife Conservation Society and the dog society one, a lot.” You batted his hand away as he reached over to steal another fry.

“Did you get accepted into that frat? The NCT U Bosses one?”

He laughed, “They’re actually called Alpha Nu, but they’re all really nice guys. I have to pass some sort of test to be accepted.”

You leaned back in your seat, giving him the perfect opportunity to reach over and steal a handful of fries, “Ah, an initiation. When is it?”

Jaehyun shrugged as he drank out of the large cup in front of him. He continued, “You should join a sorority. What if the dealer is one of the sorority girls? It could be some sort of drug cult.”

You laugh and throw a fry at him, “I can’t believe you’re stereotyping the good sororities of this university.” You paused long enough for him to look surprised and a little guilty, “But you’re totally right. The one I passed was actually pink themed. It’s like they want people to think they’re unintelligent. The girl handing out fliers was doing a doctorate in science, it’s not like they’re stupid.”

When he raised an eyebrow at you, you continued, your voice lowered, “We should focus on the case.”

“We are focusing on the case,” Jaehyun smiled. “We’re just having a little fun.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Not too much fun.”

He nodded, his smile wide enough for his dimples to show. “Of course not.”

[ferritin4]

Titans Together (3K Gen Jon Kent/Damian Wayne)

Here’s a thing I’ve never posted on here: DC comics fic! I’m one of those people that’s been reading comics since I was a kid, but never in a viciously completionist way. Then, as an adult, I went back and read the runs of things that were recommended or appealed to me, like, among many other things (buncha Batman, the Grayson run even though yes it kinda sucked, all of the new Midnighter before it got canceled), Super Sons. Which is hilarious, and the art is fabulous, and the characters are just perfect. Strong rec.

Like many people, I’m totally here for aged-up Jon Kent/Damian Wayne -- it’s like if Clark/Bruce were both more dramatic and less weird and awful about/to each other -- and I, personally, have a headcanon that Damian, though short now, really ought to grow up to be like 6′4″ and massive. Because his dad’s the tallest in the Batfam and very big, and his mom’s both tall and built for a woman. He has to be a low-grade celebrity at college: Bruce Wayne's son and a prodigy in every subject, a super intense giant scary ripped antisocial multimillionaire 21-year-old who's already halfway through his PhD and wears suits to class. 

And then I want Jon Kent to come visit him at Princeton and be a total fucking hayseed like, "Oh, whoa, wow! That building is so cool looking! What kind of style did you say it was, Dami?" in farm boy jeans and a Carhartt jacket and everyone is like whaaaat the fuuuuck

And that is this fic. (Yes. The art history is made up. That is intentional.)

—

Princeton was huge. Wow.

—

Jon didn’t expect it to be small — he had lived in Metropolis forever as a kid and he’d toured a couple colleges in Gotham, even. He knew Princeton wasn’t gonna be like, the size of Garden City Community College or something, but gosh. It was really, really big.

The administrative offices were right at the main entrance, and that was a good thing, because Jon needed a map, and some directions, and maybe a nametag?

“No, honey,” the woman at the desk said. Her desk plaque read Moira Reed and she looked kind of like his mom’s oldest cousin. “You don’t need a name tag, you just need to show me your ID and sign in so we know you’re on campus. Are you a prospective student?” she asked, taking his driver’s license. “Since you’re eighteen, you don’t need a guardian with you, but I would like an emergency contact, just in case.”

“Oh, sure,” Jon said. “And, no, I’m just visiting a friend who goes here. I live in Kansas,” he added, which — was probably super obvious from the whole Kansas state driver’s license thing. Duh. “You can, uh, tell, I guess. Thank you,” he said, taking it back.

She chuckled. “No worries. Do you need directions to their dorm? Or do they live off campus nearby?”

“No, thank you. He lives in grad student housing, I think?” Jon said. “But I do need directions to —” Jon pulled out his notebook “— Waterstone Hall? For ‘Art History 466’?”

Moira had a map, and a Sharpie, and a very, very patient smile, and Jon thanked her like five times before she kicked him out and told him to enjoy his class.

—

“Good lord,” an older woman’s voice said to Moira as Jon left the office. “Wasn’t he just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“They have manners in Kansas!” Moira said, laughing. “Maybe he should teach a class.”

—

Waterstone Hall was a beautiful brick building with small, well-kept classrooms with sky-blue walls and new whiteboards. Jon poked his head into a couple of empty rooms before he found 343B.

The seats were angled like a movie theater, pretty steep, and Jon picked a seat about halfway back, on the aisle in case anybody needed him to move. There were maybe twenty students already there, but he didn’t know how many were supposed to come. Class didn’t start for — five more minutes, according to the super fancy old analog clock on the wall.

Everybody was pretty dressed up, except Jon. Did they dress up for class at Princeton? Maybe; maybe it was like private school except without uniforms. The kid next to him was wearing a sweater vest over a collared white button-down shirt, and the girl directly in front of him was wearing some kind of dark blue fancy-looking shirt and pearls.

Jon shrugged off his jacket and put his notebook on the desk in front of him. His flannel had a collar, but he didn’t think that really counted for anything at Princeton.

Somebody was looking at him.

“Hi,” Jon said to the sweater vest kid, who was staring at him like he could see straight through Jon’s head.

“Who are you?” Sweater Vest said. Not, like, meanly. More like Jon was a raccoon or something that had wandered into the classroom.

Or something. Jon didn’t know if they had a lot of raccoons in New Jersey.

“I’m Jon,” Jon said. “I’m just visiting a friend, and I thought I’d sit in on class. Don’t worry,” he added, smiling, “I won’t try to lead discussion group or anything.”

“This class doesn’t have a discussion group,” Sweater Vest said, still staring. “You’re visiting a friend? Who goes here? And they told you to come to this class?”

The girl in front of them swiveled around. “No,” she said. “They must have meant a different class.”

“Art History 466?” Jon said. Maybe he was in the wrong room and this was some — but what class would be bad to sit in on?

Sweater Vest’s stare got, if possible, even more bug-eyed.

“Your friend is an asshole,” he said. “You gotta get out of here, kid, I’m not joking. Just… go to a coffeeshop for an hour or something, seriously, you have like sixty seconds before —”

“Shh!” the girl in front of them hissed suddenly, and oh hey, class was about to start.

—

The online course catalog had had a little description of the class and then links to a bunch of weekly readings, all posted and numbered and dated, and then, right under the all-caps, fancy bold lettering for ART HISTORY 466, it had said Instructor of Record: Damian Wayne.

—

Most of Jon’s classes at community college were hands-on. He was there mostly to learn how to do upkeep on the farm and maintenance on the equipment. Jon wasn’t a bad student — he always did his homework — but he liked the chance to move around while he learned.

His mom liked to say that Jon could sit still for about forty-five seconds, if he tried really hard.

He folded his hands in his lap and tried, as hard as he could, to hold still.

Damian was wearing a suit, of course — he had started wearing suits every day, like his dad, when he turned sixteen and went to college, and maybe that was why everybody was dressed up, maybe class had a dress code. If anyone would make their college class have a dress code, it would totally be Damian, a PhD student who still showed up to teach art history in a ridiculously fancy suit that made him look just like his dad.

Jon had been glad when Damian got taller than him, and even gladder when Damian had finally filled out. It made him look so much more like Bruce, so much less like Talia, and that, well. Jon didn’t need to be the world’s greatest anything to know how important that was to Damian.

Damian still had her sharp features, her olive skin, her cruel streak, of course, but it sure put Jon’s heart at ease to know Damian didn’t have to look in the mirror each morning and see only her face.

Damian put his bag down on the big desk at the front and started taking out some papers, as Jon bit his lip and tried to modulate his breathing so he sounded like everyone else in class, so he wasn’t forgetting to take a breath for too long, because he could forget, easy, when he was distracted, but Damian would totally notice and Jon didn’t want him to figure it out early, he wanted to him to notice when —

Damian looked up and over the class, just a quick, dismissive glance, and Jon could practically hear the gravel crunching as his eyes ground to a halt on Jon.

Sweater Vest stopped breathing; the girl in front of them sucked in in a huge rush of air. No one had been talking, but now no one was moving, just a roomful of terrified, pounding hearts, and oh my God, Damian, Jon thought fondly, you total freaking lunatic.

Jon smiled. Damian’s eyebrow quirked, very slightly, and he looked away, going back to his papers.

Sweater Vest breathed out, slow and shaky.

Class began.

It was interesting. They were mostly talking about German and French weaving and some wall paintings — murals, duh, right — but from like, 900CE. There was a projector and Damian had put up a couple pictures of the big murals so they could look at them while he talked.

Damian knew his stuff. It wasn’t shocking; he’d written like four books about this that Jon knew of, and anyway, Damian had known more than anyone else about pretty much everything for like, the duration of Jon’s entire life.

“The repeating patterns you see here became more geometrically constrained starting around 955CE,” Damian was saying. “They also became more consistent both intra- and inter-artist. Ms. Braxton,” he said, fixing his eyes on a small, dark-skinned girl in the second row, “why is that?”

“Uh,” she said. “Is it because of the access to, uh, horsehair —”

“No,” he said. “Mr. Kendry?”

Mr. Kendry was a tall, lanky boy with pale skin and paler hair who was sitting five seats over from Jon. He had a fancy leather jacket on in class, which Jon had always thought was rude — weren’t you supposed to take your coat off inside?

“Because of the invention of higher mathematics,” Mr. Kendry said, shooting Ms. Braxton a disdainful look.

“In 955CE?” Damian said musingly. “What a charmingly Eurocentric perspective.”

“What?” Mr. Kendry said, wary.

“Who exactly invented the mathematics you’re discussing?” Damian said.

“I, uh,” Mr. Kendry babbled. “I’m not sure. This is art history, I mean, I didn’t —”

“Congratulations,” Damian said, in a voice like ice. “You’ve managed to put forth a single sentence, misleading at best, and yet you cannot even explain your own thought processes, much less provide any facts to back up your very incorrect theory.”

Jon leaned over to Sweater Vest, who flinched away from him, then took a breath and leaned back in.

“Do people do the reading for this class?” Jon whispered.

“What?” Sweater Vest whispered back. “Yeah, of —”

“Kent,” Damian snapped, “do you have something to add?”

Clothing rustled against seats; papers shifted under fingertips as twenty pairs of eyes slowly turned to stare at Jon.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon said. “I just thought that you had said that that kind of geometry wasn’t really introduced until like fifty years after this.”

“I had said?” Damian asked, locking onto him. “When did I say that?”

It was a real question. Jon could tell — of course he could tell, like, it had only been eight years. Sometimes Damian asked rhetorical questions so he could go on and on about whatever point he was trying to make and sometimes he asked real questions that he wanted an answer to. He just wasn’t super good at making those two things sound different.

“In the reading?” Jon said. “Um, on page,” he flipped through his notebook, “fourteen? You said that, uh, the use of repeating patterns got better starting in the mid-900s, but that, then, on page twenty-one, you said that people had tried to introduce new kinds of math like, a bunch of times but nobody really paid any attention until King Rasbin IV and he didn’t start being king until 1005. I had to look that up, you didn’t say when he was king from,” Jon said, looking back up to meet Damian’s eyes.

The classroom was silent as a grave. Jon could hear each timid, careful breath from each student, the beat of every heart.

Damian was silent, too, which was way weirder. Come on, Jon thought. Did Damian really think he’d show up to Damian’s class and not even have done the reading? Damian had literally written the textbook.

“So it sounds like the art stuff got better before they really accepted the math stuff,” Jon added, in case he’d been confusing, not to Damian — who definitely knew what he meant to say; he almost always did — but to everyone else, who all still looked like Jon had turned them to stone.

Damian’s gaze shifted slightly, less hard and more impatient, and oh shit, Jon knew that look. Damn it.

“Um,” Jon said, scratching at his hair. That was all he knew about anything, Damian, geez. Call on someone else.

Keep talking, Damian’s expression said. Come on, Kent. You’re almost there.

He knew that look.

“Maybe, did the artists — oh! Were they trying to figure it out?” Jon said. “Like, maybe they were trying to make up this kind of geometry on their own, but King Rasbin, you said he liked this art style, he had a bunch of people painting his palace, so maybe, did he hear about the new math stuff and then go to his artists and say, like, ‘guys, this is like what you’re trying to do? But better, so you should try this instead?’”

The left side of Damian’s mouth twitched up; his brows found a distinctly satisfied tilt. Jon grinned.

“King Rasbin IV,” Damian said mildly. “King Rasbin was a powerless puppet ruler who was killed at fifteen. Otherwise, yes.”

The room, collectively, breathed out.

“Cool,” Jon said. Damian raised both eyebrows. “Not the puppet king thing,” Jon said, rolling his eyes. “The art thing! Cool that it was so popular that the artists convinced everyone to pay attention to the new math stuff.”

“Yes. Although in most academic circles it’s still considered a theory without clear evidence,” Damian told him.

“Oh,” Jon said.

“Don’t worry, I have a paper under review which will address that deficit,”  Damian said, flashing just a hint of teeth. “Unsurprisingly, some people aren’t very good at gathering evidence.”

Jon laughed.

“Don’t laugh at him!” Sweater Vest whispered furiously.

“Mr. Mitchell,” Damian said. Sweater Vest’s head snapped up.

“Yes,” Sweater Vest said weakly.

“In 1132CE, following the death of King Rasbin V, Guillaume Res wrote a treatise on the new bascura technique,” Damian said. “What were its immediate and long-term implications for palace artworks?”

Sweater Vest opened his mouth, then closed it.

Damian turned to his desk and started rifling through the papers. Sweater Vest looked like he was going to throw up.

“Mr. Mitchell, I will give you five seconds to produce something resembling a coherent, informed answer,” Damian pulled a packet of papers out of the pile, “before I discard your midterm paper and give you a zero.”

“Uh,” Sweater Vest said.

“Five,” Damian said. “Four.”

“If you don’t know, just guess something!” Jon whispered.

“Shut up, Kent,” Damian said, agate-hard. “You’re not allowed to help him. Three.”

“Aaauuuhh? I, um,” Sweater Vest said.

“Two,” Damian said. “One.”

“What’s the point of this? He obviously doesn’t know!” Jon said.

“You’re right,” Damian said, “he doesn’t.” He dropped the paper into the trash can by the desk. “Moving on.”

“Geez,” Jon muttered when Damian turned his back to them to advance the slideshow.

“You need to shut up, for real,” Sweater Vest told him, “before Wayne comes up here and stabs you.”

“Pff,” Jon said, just loud enough to carry. “Stab me? He could try.”

Damian’s spine straightened, briefly, but he just pushed a button and a new painting came up on the projector screen.

—

“Dismissed,” Damian said, finally, and the room burst into a rush of noise, closing books and scraping chairs.

“Thanks,” Sweater Vest said to Jon, not at all sarcastically.

“Huh?” Jon said.

“You distracted him for a while,” Sweater Vest said. “Thanks.”

“Uh, okay,” Jon said, and then, “you’re welcome,” because that’s what you said when somebody said thank you.

“Yep,” Sweater Vest said, standing up. “Now flee while you can.”

Jon didn’t, though; he was planning to wait until everyone was gone to go down to the front, but about half the students were still there when Damian snapped his bag shut and said, “Is something amiss? Did one of our fathers send you?”

Nobody else was near him. Nobody else would have heard him. He wasn’t talking to anyone else.

Jon got up and collected his jacket and notebook and walked down to the board as fast as he could without raising suspicion, or at least eyebrows.

“No, of course not,” Jon said, coming up behind Damian. He almost leaned on the desk next to where Damian was standing, but then he’d be like, one foot away from Damian and everyone else was giving them a good ten foot clearance, easy.

Definitely because of Damian, not because of Jon. Jon stopped a few feet away and put his hands in his pockets.

Damian shot him a look.

“If something bad was happening, I would call you,” Jon said. “I was just in the area because my friend Leah from home is moving to an apartment in Trenton to live near her mom, so —”

“Most people just say, ‘I was in the neighborhood,’” Damian said.

“Okay, fine,” Jon said. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Damian turned to face him, frowning. “Then what’s wrong with you, Kent? You’re not normally this standoffish.”

“What?” Jon said. “I’m not — you are, and anyway, all your students are still here! I don’t wanna be like, ‘hey buddy!’ and then you have to explain why you have some random kid who doesn’t even go here showing up and being weird.”

“Did you hit your head on the flight here? I don’t explain my interpersonal interactions to my undergraduates,” Damian said.

“Oh,” Jon said, feeling slightly silly. “Right.”

“Did you truly think I cared about them?” Damian said snidely. “I haven’t gotten that soft in my old age.”

“You’re not that old,” Jon said.

“Old enough,” Damian said, haughty, and Jon said, “I’ve seen you older,” because he was never ever letting Damian live down the time he got turned into a tiny little eighty-year-old man.

Damian narrowed his eyes and gave him a look that could cut glass.

“Anyway,” Jon said, “hey buddy! I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by,” and then, while Damian was still disoriented by being super mad at him, he stepped in for hug.

Somebody dropped a whole armful of books.

“Gah!” Damian said. “This is not what I was encouraging you —”

Jon patted him on the back and let him go. “Are you done? I’m starving.”

“Of course you are,” Damian said. “Fine. Come on, the chefs at the dining hall should be preparing my dinner. They’ll make you an extra serving if we catch them early enough.”

“I can just eat normal cafeteria food, or whatever,” Jon said.

“You could eat garbage off the ground,” Damian said. “I can’t. Let’s go.”

—

NOW THERE IS A SEQUEL! Did you want that? Well, I did.

[charlesxavirs]

Ohohohoh! Please, if you want to I won't make you I'm sorry- Stenbrough? That's my actual shit and I love it but if you for any reason I will be okay I'm so sorry I'm a literal mess.

okay so i’ve had this written for ages and i’ve tried to expand on it and write more but it’s just never really happened so i might as well just post it. hope you enjoy! read on ao3 )

Stanley Uris considered himself a man of many talents. He could recite well detailed spiel about any bird at the drop of a hat, he had got washing his clothes down to a precise science so none of the colours would even dare to run, and he had to admit that he was quite flexible, although he wouldn’t ever admit that on a first date. Yet, despite his vehement efforts, despite his dedication and despite his might, he cannot get fucking glitter out of his hair. He’s tried washing it, brushing it, even vacuuming it once with Eddie’s careful guidance. He dreads the days when it is inexplicably part of his routine, and he prays and prays and prays that he’ll be able to get it out of his curly locks come bedtime.

He never fucking does, though.

And so, Stan was in a foul mood as he pulled up in the parking lot this morning at precisely five minutes to seven. As usual, he was the second car in the lot and he took the time to count the binders on his passenger seat again before he gathered them in his arms, to make sure he had replied to any emails he had to and ran over his lesson plans in his head before stepping out of the car and making his way towards the staff entrance of the small elementary school.

Just as he had expected, Ben was sat behind his desk at the main office, looking bleary eyed as he sipped at his coffee and flipped through papers that Stan would ask about if it wasn’t so early in the morning and if Ben didn’t look so tired. Stan threw him a smile and waved at him the best he could with his arms full, a wave of fondness washing over him as Ben offered him a bright smile in spite of his fatigue, and he started his trek along the red bricked corridor to his classroom.

Stan had started teaching just four years ago, starting off with Kindergarten kids at Derry Elementary before moving to the fifth grade the year after, and he’s stayed there ever since. His psychology degree was supposed to lead Stan into the world of therapy, yet instead, he got pulled into early years development, which ultimately led to him training to be a teacher. His father was more than displeased at sudden change in career choice, hoping his son would be a hotshot shrink in no time, but Donald Uris had to admit that it was nice to have Stan close to home. He also had to admit that Stan was good at his job.

The kids loved him. They giggled at his sarcastic remarks, groaned at him whenever he set homework and were unafraid to come to him with their 10-year-old problems, seeking his fair judgement and level headed advice. Yes, Stan Uris loved his kids dearly, he even admitted to shedding a tear here and there when his classes finally left for middle school, and he’d be damned if they weren’t going to grow up in a safe and loving place. The thought of packing it in and walking the career path his parents had hoped he would pave after college was a tempting one when he came home with stack after stack of homework sheets and essays and school books, but the way the kids eyes would light up when they saw his neatly written praise on their last homework assignment was more than enough to quash the idea. In short, Stan loved his class, and his class loved him.

Stan pushed open his classroom door with his shoulder and blindly searched the cold wall with nimble fingers until they settle on the light switch, and he flooded the room with the white, artificial glare of the ceiling lights. He walked the well known path to his desk at the front of the room, reaching down to pick up a stray pencil by his chair after he set his folders down on the clutter free table. He took pride in his classroom, keeping it clean and tidy at all times. An untidy working space means an untidy mind, his mother had always told him, and he very much believed it to be true.

Over the summer, he had spent a full day painting new displays on the walls, changing the colour scheme of the room from light yellow to sky blue, penning sparrows onto the walls with help from Richie. All of his pencils had been sharpened, papers organised, glue sticks neatly stacked and reading books tidily arranged on shelves.

“You’re like Mary Poppins when she does all that clicky shit.” Richie had astutely commented, trying to snap his fingers for added effect, but he somehow ended up punching himself in the face.

Stan wished Richie took the same pride in his own classroom instead of giving Stan shit for doing so himself. Richie was content to replace the framed picture of Bill Nye above his desk with an updated snap and buy a new board pen every year. He loved his friend dearly, but he often wonders how he even became qualified to teach, considering he was a health hazard on legs, always tripping over chair legs or barely skimming the children’s faces when he got too animated with his hand movements. Stan had been teaching for a year longer than Richie had but he had known Richie all of his life. In fact, Stan likes to credit himself as the guiding force for getting him off his ass and into the workforce.

It had been a Sunday, when they were both Juniors at UCLA, and Stan was putting the finishing touches to his project for his Primary Education class. He was sat cross legged on the floor of his cramped apartment, blasting Abba, the ground in front of him covered in newspaper as he dabbed his project delicately with his one dollar paintbrush and paint. Everything was peaceful in the world of Stan, that was, until Richie bounded through the door in a whirlwind of neon colours and unruly hair, already speaking at one hundred miles per hour.

“Stanley the Manley, you’ll never believe what the fuck just happened. So i’m sat there, enjoying my weekly Dorito date with that weird guy down the street and- what the flippity fuck is that?”

Stan looked up at him, carefully setting his brush down on the newspaper and moving curls out of his eyes, following Richie’s gaze down to his project, standing sturdily in front of Stan.

“It’s homework.” Stan said, stretching his stiff arms above his head. “It’s a fish.”

Before he knew it, Richie was kneeling on the floor next to Stan, eye to eye with his papier-mache creation, staring it out with trepidation in his gaze.

“So I’ve gotta do a shit ton of consumer research just to have the chance to grace the airwaves, but all you’ve gotta do is make a fish?” Richie whined, sitting back on his heels and pouting at Stan. He reached out his hand to touch, but Stan quickly swatted it away before leaning back down to apply another coat of purple paint to his aquatic masterpiece.

“If you’re that bothered, why don’t you train to become a teacher, Trashmouth.” Stan chastised, ignoring the ‘humph’ that escaped Richie’s as he watched him paint. Stan never actually expected him to do it. He had turned up at Stan’s door almost a year to the day later, holding a handmade dog, wearing a bowtie and donning a kippah on over its curly ears. Stan had answered the door with a hand on his hip, eyebrow raised. Richie had only grinned, his cheeks turning red with the force of him holding back a laugh at his own joke.

“It’s a Cocker Staniel.”

Stan slammed the door in his face.

And now here they were, almost five years later, Richie running late as usual and Stan dreading the looming presence of glitter on his Thursday morning.

Parent-Teacher conferences were the bane of Stan’s existence. He held two every year, one in October while the kids were relatively new in the class and one later on in the year, normally before they left. Usually, the parents didn’t care at all or seemingly cared too much, berating Stan for things as trivial as how he worded homework sheets to the way he dressed. The sheer stress of such things meant that Stan spent the short hour between school ended and his first appointment with Eddie, the school nurse, drinking juice boxes with an ice pack held securely to his head while they chatted aimlessly and watched reruns of Judge Judy on the room’s shitty TV set. This year, though, was going to be the first time he’d handle the parents smoothly and professionally, and he certainly wasn’t going to have a breakdown in his store cupboard afterwards. No way.

He heaved in a sigh, revelling in the slight burn of his lungs as he drank in the air. It was getting closer to half past now, and Stan finally started to get into gear, setting up for the day, refusing to look at the offending vials of metallic crap until he had to. It was 8:55 when Richie finally pulled up outside, fifteen minutes later than he usually was, and he didn’t even afford himself the luxury of mithering Stan as he sprinted down the corridor, hands full of boxes and slammed his classroom door behind him. Richard Tozier was well suited to be a second grade teacher, Stan thought, considering he was a second grader himself.

He opened his door at 8:59, only just making it back to his desk before the whiny ring of the school bell flooded his ears and children started to walk through the door, unbuttoning their coats as they bid him good morning, groaning as they saw what Stan had written on the whiteboard, and Stan couldn’t help but smirk. If they were going to destroy his classroom and his life with pipe cleaners and glitter glue, he was going to make their brains explode with maths.

--

Stan was sticky by the time 4:30 rolled by. In an effort to make his class a bit more cheerful, he had allowed them to make name tags for their books and work so their parents could easily identify them that evening. He hadn’t, however, thought it was such a good idea when Timothy Jones had walked into him with a full pot of PVA glue, subsequently spilling it down his neatly pressed chinos, covering them in a shiny, brown stain that was going to be a bitch to get out. He couldn’t possibly greet parents looking like there had been an oil spill on his trousers, so in a last resort to gain some semblance of put togetherness, he went knocking on Richie’s door.

“Woah there Stanley,” he grinned as he cut what looked like a melted dinosaur out of a piece of blue card, adding it to a pile of similarly drawn jurassic creatures. “Looks like someone didn’t make it to the can in time. Say, I didn’t know you were into watersports.”

Stan didn’t dignify him with a response, instead sighing and muttering a halfhearted ‘Beep Beep’. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any pants, have you?”

Stan should have known to fear the worse as Richie’s face lighted up with mirth and he spoke to Stan with his Southern Belle drawl.

“Well, Sir, I surely surely do.”

And that’s how Stan ended up sat behind his desk, listening to parents talk about their kids as if they were the only ones on the planet, wearing a pair of hot pink yoga pants that barely fitted him, never mind Richie.

(“Where the fuck did you get these?” “They’re Eddie Spaghetti’s. I-” “Never mind, I’d rather not know.”)

He nodded empathetically as they talked about their children, resisted the urge to roll his eyes as they told him how to do his job, but under no circumstances did he stand up from the table. Propriety be damned, he didn’t want to be fired for public indecency.  He was almost done at five minutes to six, his schedule closely adhered to, and if all went well, he’d be in bed by seven. He only had one appointment left, and he let himself relax in his chair, straightening his papers and ticking off names as he waited.

Five minutes passed. And then ten. And then fifteen. It was quarter past six, and he was still waiting for his last appointment to turn up. A pang of annoyance gnawed at Stan. He had been preparing for this for over a month and the parents didn’t even have the decency to listen to him talk about their own kids, for God’s sake. Huffing, he started to pack away, stuffing sheets back into their binders when a ball of emerald and auburn and brown came charging through the door with a small boy in tow.

“I’m so s-sorry, I thought Noah’s mother was coming instead.” the man groaned, panting as he ran a hand through his son’s hair.

He quickly caught his breath and made his way in front of Stan, offering him his hand to shake. If Stan wasn’t so annoyed, he would have noticed the way his blue eyes sparkled or the warmth of his touch or the way his mouth quirked as he spoke. But Stan was irritated, so instead he shook the man’s hand and refused to look at him as he pulled his sheets back out. Stan quickly realised, though, that Noah was stood next to his father, grinning up at Stan.

He quickly softened, smiling back at the boy. Noah was a boisterous member of his class, yes, but he was polite and was quiet when Stan needed him to be and often had an amusing anecdote about his Aunt Bev and Uncle Georgie. Noah Phillips-Denbrough was a good kid, and Stan liked him very much.

“Hey buddy.” he greeted as Noah waved back, his grin widening as he shot back an exuberant ‘hi!’, almost shaking as he gripped to his father’s arm.

Looking at the pair now, Stan could obviously see the family ties. He had had a few dealings with Audra Phillips, and from what Stan could gather, she was a reserved woman who only seemed to speak when she was spoken to, quite unlike her son, who was rowdy to say the least. While Noah had inherited his mother’s swarthy skin and tightly coiled locks, it was easy to see his father in him. Their eyes both lit up in the same carefree way when Stan looked at them and the smile on their faces seemed to be permanent. That, and the blue hue of their eyes were almost identical. While Stan knew divorce often made kids shrink into themselves, Noah had done anything but, and he thinks Mr. Denbrough had been part of the reason why.

“Sorry we’re so late, Mr Uris.” Noah beamed, no evidence of regret traceable on his face, and Stan’s grin involuntarily widened.

“Don’t worry about it Noah.” he said, throwing him a wink that made the young boy dissolve into giggles. “Hey, why don’t you go and finish your drawing from today while I chat to your dad?” he suggested, and Noah didn’t have to be asked twice before he was sitting at one of the rickety desks and scribbling away.

Stan turned his attention back to the man in front of him, cutting him off with a wave of his hand as he tried to speak again, probably to apologise again. “Why don’t we get started, Mr Denbrough.”

“Bill, please.” he insisted, and the smile on his face had Stan repressing a blush.

“Okay then, Bill,” Stan didn’t miss the man’s chuckle, “Let’s talk about Noah’s progress so far.”

In all fairness to Stan, he was completely professional from there on in, only making eye contact when appropriate, never letting himself stray from the topic of Bill’s son, and he certainly didn’t let himself get excited when Bill pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. Stanley Uris was a paragon of a teacher, answering questions thoughtfully and easily. So what if Bill’s appointment lasted twenty minutes longer than it should have, it’s not like Stan was counting.

It went so well, however, that Stan had ignored one huge, almighty, dirty big fat flaw. He had completely forgotten that nothing good ever happens to him, and sooner or later, it was all going to go tits up. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long for it to happen.

“Thanks a lot for seeing us, Mr Uris.” Bill had a smile on his face and his voice was dripping with an appreciation that had Stan blushing.

Stan waved his hand in front of him, turning to smile at Noah, who was once again glued to Bill’s side. “Thank you guys for coming.” He shot him a small wink, making the boy beam up at him.

When he turned back to Bill, there was a look clouding his piercing eyes that Stan couldn’t quite decipher, yet it made the warmth on his cheeks deepen further, and before he knew it, Bill was standing out of his chair, arm out in front of him to shake, and Stan was following suit.

He only realised what a huge fuck up it was when Noah burst into fits of giggles.

“Mr. Uris why are your pants pink?” he squeaked out in between laughs, clutching onto Bill’s arm to hold himself up.

Stan’s cheeks burned now, and he was pretty sure you could see him in the dark with the intensity of his blush. He glanced at Bill out of the corner of his eye, surprised to find that his cheeks were the colour of his pants, and he didn’t miss the way his eyes ran over Stan’s somewhat scantily clad legs.

He cleared his throat, the deep bass of his chuckle reverberating in Stan’s chest as he pushed a stray strand of auburn hair from his eyes. “The pink suits you.”

All Stan could do was limply shake the man’s hand, squeak out a pathetic goodbye and usher the pair hastily from the room.

He let his head fall with a thunk against the pink painted door as he shut it closed behind them. Stan had prided himself on keeping himself composed for the past five years, no matter how hard it was. He had people complain about him when his shirt sleeves were too short or when the amount of time designated to reading was deemed ‘questionable’. The way Stan was feeling now had to stop. Yes, he’d had crushes before, but never on a parent. It was hard enough for him being gay in Derry, it was even harder to try to be so and teach at the same time. The last thing he needed was a silly schoolboy crush to come along and wreck the order he’d created.

So, Stan did what he usually did when he’s had, what he’d consider, a stressful day: go home, eat a shit ton of ice cream and watch Say Yes To The Dress until his eyes melt.

Thank God it’s Friday.

[readyfreddieforyourbullshit-blog]

Deep in the Meadow, Chapter 2

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Attempted suicide, torture, brainwashing, kidnapping, attempted murder, traumatic flashbacks, twelve year old writing, drinking, swearing, betrayal, and probably more stuff. (Yeah this isn't light hearted. At all.)

Plot: The boy she loves is basically gone, her sister is dead, with her best friend to blame, she's responsible for the death of hundreds. But somehow, she and Peeta learn to heal. But just as their nightmares start to cease, they come to life in the worst way possible.

A/N: I'm not late uploading this, you're late reading this.

For context, when I first wrote this, I had to transfer it via email to a friend who I was writing this for. While doing so, I lost the first half of this chapter. I would have rewritten it, but I'm fucking lazy and have something else I'm working on. So here's a summery:

Katniss wakes up in the hospital and Haymitch and her mother are visiting her, she can't talk so she has to communicate via a whiteboard the hospital gave her. They chit chat about Peeta and then they leave Katniss to rest.

ON WITH THE SHOW!

When I wake up I hear a voice.

"Katniss,"

Peeta.

He's here. Talking to me.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can...I'm sorry. I never should have done that. I know if you could talk you would say that it's not my fault, and I know that. I just..." He sighed. "I'm dangerous, Katniss. I can't controll myself. And I shouldn't be here now, but I need to tell you something and I don't know if I can tell you this after you wake up, considering what I did...but... I still love you, Katniss Everdeen. And even though I promised I'd be here always, I just...I don't think-"

I grab his arm. He starts and almost yanks it away, but calms down after I open my eyes.

"Katniss." He says softly. I smile. "How long have you been awake?" He asks trying to sound normal.

'Long enough to hear everything. You can't leave me, Peeta. Not again.' He bluses a little, but looks at me.  

"I know Katniss...I just..."

' It wasn't you who attacked me Peeta. It was the hijacked you. And I don't blame you for what happened.' He takes a deep breath in and asks

"I'm messed up, real or not real?"

'We all are, Peeta.' He smiles at me.

About a week later I'm released from the hospital. I can speak now thankfully. My mother left a couple days after because she had to get back to the hospital in four. I was sad to see her leave, but she wasn't quite welcome either.

I go out to the woods and hunt some. When I get back, I have two possums, a wild turkey, and a few herbs. When I get back I see Peeta in my garden.

"Hey." I say. He turns and looks at me.

"Hey." He rises from the ground and dusts himself off. "Nice to hear your voice again." I smile. I look behind him and see them. The evening primroses of which my sister was named after. I walk over to them slowly. "I found them by the edge of the forest." Peeta explains.

"And you planted them." I say softly, touching a petal.

"For her." I break down into tears. Peeta sits next to me.

"Why her? She did nothing wrong! She was so young and innocent!" I sob into Peetas chest until I'm empty of tears.

"I know." I pull myself together and with Peetas help, I get into the house, and go to Prims room. I look at it. I didn't mean to come here. I thought it was my room.

I walk to her bed where she had set a little doll I had tried to make her out of rope when she was little. And on the desk she had a letter she must have wrote for me when I was in the arenas. The first one must have been written while I was in my first Hunger games.

Dear Katniss.

Gale has been keeping his promise to feed us, and has tried to teach me to hunt even. But like when you did, it ended in disaster. The whole time I was trying to heal it with whatever I could find, which annoyed Gale. He told me as we left the woods that I would make a great healer. Me and mom have been watching you. I'm thankful you found water and didn't give up. I miss you. I can't pay attention in school because I can't stop thinking about you. Like what if you died while I was learning how coal is made? Mom hasn't disappeared like you worried she would. I have to go. Please try and win, Katniss. I know you can. For me. Please don't give up. And don't do anything that will get you killed.

Primrose.

I set down the first one and pick up the second letter that was sealed with a wax rose.

Dear Katniss,

I miss you. I know what you're trying to do. I know you're trying to get Peeta out of there. Half of me knows that you aren't coming back, but the other half wants to think you and Peeta are coming back to us. To me. I know that you love him Katniss. You might not know it yourself, but I know you care about him. I'm sorry that they played a trick on you with those Jabberjays. That was low. Even for the Capitol. I love you Katniss, and I know that you are never coming back. Not alive anyway. I'll try and sneak this into your coffin at the funeral. But if I don't, know that no matter what, I love you. And if I ever have a daughter, she will bear your name. I love you.

Primrose.

So young. So innocent. Only to burn to death in a terrible bombing. Not even a body left to bury.

I fall to the ground and hold the letter to my chest while I sob. Peeta holds me in his arms. I cry until I fall asleep.

I wake a few hours later with an Idea. I tell my idea to Peeta, and he agrees. We go to the meadows lake, where my father taught me to swim. Where Gale took the survivors. Where I had my encounter with Bonnie and Twill.

I go to front of the little stone house, and start digging. Once I've dug it to the size of my little sister, I take the little rope doll that she adored, the two letters, her hair ribbions, and the rest of the things she loved into the grave, I put in my letter to her, and set one of the tiny primroses on top of the letter that I wrote on her desk. That I cried over a million times while writing it, and bury it. I then take the small sign I made and set it on top.

                            HERE LIES

          PRIMROSE MARIE EVERDEEN.      

          BORN: AUG. 16, 1997, 8:44 PM.

          DEATH: NOV. 29, 2010.

            A LOVING SISTER WHO WILL BE

            MISSED.

I sit there in front of the grave I finished. I look up at the sky, it was a bright sunny day. I look back down at the grave of my beloved sister.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

All of this happened because I wanted to protect her. And I couldn't even do that. I look back at Peeta, who brought some paint so he could paint the lake while I bured my sister. I walk over to him, and look at the painting. But it's not the lake. It's Prim. "What do you think?" He looks at me.

"Peeta...it's wonderful. Thank you."

He smiled at me and we left a little while after. I felt better, now that I know that she has a place in the meadow.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow,

a bed of grass, a soft green pillow,

lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes, and when again they open, the sun will rise,

here it's safe,

here it's warm,

here the daisies gaurd you from every harm,

here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true,

here is the place where I love you.

A/N: Please like and reblog!

[cryptidvoidz]

Keep Them Safe: Chapter Seven

Based on @whatwashernameagain‘s fic: Keep Him Safe

Warnings: Angst, blood, beatings, knives, choking, cursing, hint at non-consenting sexual acts.

Chapter One

Tag List: @himrachel @whatwashernameagain

A/N: OMG ANOTHER CHAPTER?! Well, guess what, the newest chapter of KHS has me shook, and I was struck with MAJOR inspiration to write this.

Chapter Seven (AO3 link)

Redmond balances on the edge of the curb, arms outstretched as he tiptoed along. He told Dexter and Oliver he could pick up the little minion from his first day of school today, but that was a couple of hours away, and the man felt too antsy to really stay still or inside. Oliver avoided the topic of the day before, seeming incredibly nervous and shy. The long haired male couldn't blame him. The whole situation was unexpected, and from what he was able to gather (because he couldn't remember much), he had asked to go home with the detective. When he had woken up this morning, he felt better than he had in ages, so perhaps him being so touch-starved wasn't really a shocker.

The things he could remember, though, brought a smile to his lips. Waking up, the first thing he had seen was the small detective cuddled up against his chest. The sight was absolutely breathtaking, from the way the man's fingers had latched onto his shirt, to the way the sun turned his hair into fire, the flames lazily flickering in every direction. Redmond could see the stars in his freckles that dusted across his cheeks and nose, and quietly mapped out full constellations. Gently carding his fingers through the cherry red hair allowed him to see the platinum blonde and dark brown roots starting to show. Even after all these years, Oliver still kept his hair dyed a pristine crimson, taking great care of it to make sure that it stayed soft and manageable. To anyone who didn't know the man, they'd probably think this was his natural hair color.

Oliver also had a nice, slim build, hiding muscles under the lean exterior, reminding the man of a cat, powerful with a sleek frame, able to silently stalk its prey. He had run his fingers lightly down Oliver's arms, breath catching as he felt the familiar raises in skin. The detective's arms were decorated with an array of crisscrossing scars, all different lengths and sizes. Tears stung the backs of his eyes because in the sixteen years that he had known the redhead, there had only ever been a couple here and there, and they had always faded within a few months. Those? Those weren't fading any time soon.

Running his hands through his loose hair, Redmond checked his phone, sighing dejectedly as he saw the time. Still an hour and fourty-three minutes to go. He let his feet carry him to the cafe. Going inside wasn't his plan, however, as he stepped into the alley and grasped at the ladder. Laying on the rooftops helped him think his entire life, and right now, he needed to think.

For example, what was he going to do about Oliver? He certainly didn't hold a grudge now. Once he had realized that his mom had been the reason Oliver had said those harsh words, all of his anger and hurt melted away. And to see how that bitch still had a hold of him to this day made him protective. He remembered the pain in those mismatched eyes. He knew that pain. That was the pain of loving someone who, quite obviously, didn't love you back. Redmond had felt it with his ex. But Oliver? He'd been dealing with that pain for twenty-eight years, unable to cut ties with the mom he tried so hard to impress, only to be met with disappointment and rejection for who he was. The texts Redmond had seen the day before had shown him more than enough.

A buzzing from his pocket let him know it was time to go pick up Danny. It was only a short walk to the school, thankfully, because Redmond's car was still at Dexter's, all the way across town. As he walked, he found his mind drawn back to Oliver. More specifically, how gorgeous he was, and how the barista could get him to keep smiling, because dammit, if Oliver's smile wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, then he didn't know what was. The tall man's heart melted, just a little, as he realized just what the detective was to him. Even after all of these years, he still loved the redhead, and never realized it.

Spotting the familiar black winderbreaker with yellow stripes, he waves and broke out into a smile. "I'm over here, little minion!" Redmond called, bracing himself as kid turned into a blur that shot straight towards him. Laughing, he sidestepped and scooped up Danny, who was giggling hysterically.

"Red! I didn't know you were picking me up!" The man in question raised his eyebrows, taking in the paint covered seven year old, chuckling.

"Well, surprise, minion, you're stuck with me all day until your Aunt Rose picks you up for that sleepover. And you want to know what I was thinking? That maaaaybe, you and I, Danny, could be lazy and watch Disney. Even order some of that Chinese food that you love, hm?" Seeing the kid squirm with excitement and start to ramble on about his day, he decided he made up his mind on where him and Oliver stood.

The first thing Oliver noticed when he walked in was Roman's eyes. They were tinged red, an obvious sign of tears. And then he tripped. Within earshot of the desk, thankfully. Jake helped the smaller detective up, smiling gratefully and glancing back at Roman and Logan. It took everything Oliver had to not flinch away from the stoic detective. Normally, Detective Sanders never radiated this much anger. It was unnerving. He caught the name "Virgil Raine" as he walked away.

Hastily, he brought up records for the name, and sure enough, there was one currently detained in one of the holding cells. And from the looks of it, this was the wildcat he had heard Roman talking about to Logan. The pieces fit together. Roman's state of mind, Logan's anger. Oliver's deduction? Both were too emotional to deal with this properly. Snatching up the whiteboard and red marker he usually carried around, the tiny detective stalked out of the office, headed straight to the holding cells, lips pursed.

Logan cared a lot for his partner, and was overprotective. Roman was blinded by an infatuation with this gang member. Rather simple. The purple sneakers came to a halt outside a cell, and the blue and silver eyes came into contact with the same eyes from Patton's bakery. An emotionless face met the sneering one, and soon the gang member faltered. Oliver cocked his head, his intense stare causing the criminal to shrink back. He wrote on his whiteboard, showing it to the man in the cell. "Why are you here?"

Apparently, this man wasn't as much of a hardened criminal as he thought because swiped at Oliver through the bars, and immediately went to the back of the cell as the detective easily dodged and continued to stare him down. The red haired man caught the word "traitor" and smiled, waving cheerfully and walking away, knowing full well the look of confusion on the criminal's face.

Oliver could just barely make out sobbing from one of the cells, and peered in. Aha, there you are, little wildcat, Oliver thought, quickly stepping inside as he assessed the condition of this cell's inhabitant. The first thing he noticed was the large, handshaped bruise on the young man's neck. Next, the split lip and bruise that stretched across his cheek. Virgil shrank further against the wall, and the detective could see the terror in his eyes.

So Detective Frey did something that the other didn't expect; he sat right on the floor across from Virgil, legs crossed as the marker flew across the board. "What happened?" it said.

The gang member just eyed him fearfully before curling back up. Oliver's eyes traveled to the wall next to Virgil's head. Specks of blood on the wall. His eyes narrowed, remembering Roman's bandaged hand. Well, this week was just the week for punching walls. He connected the dots quickly. His best guess was that Virgil had planned on selling out the gang, based on the other member's mention of traitors, and said gang member told both Logan and Roman all about how Virgil was using the younger detective. It was all quite obvious. Divide and conquer tactic. A misunderstanding. But Oliver knew that without proof, neither of the other detectives would listen to reason, which, hilariously, was illogical, as Logan would often say. Scribbling on his whiteboard again, he held it out for the other to read, smiling gently.

Virgil stared at the whiteboard in shock and opened his mouth to speak, yet nothing could come out. But the detective saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes and smiled wider, standing up. He fished around in his pocket, bringing forth a cinnamon candy he always kept with him for stress. Unwrapping it, he held it out to the wildcat and, once the other finally took it and popped it into his mouth, smirked warmly, holding a fingering to his lips. Our little secret, it conveyed.

Oliver shivered. It had started to rain a bit ago, and his hiding place wasn't exactly sheltered from the cold, wet drops. Luckily for him, he had managed to sneak into the Scorpions' hideout. Unfortunately, he was now surrounded with no way to escape. They had no idea he was here, but there was no way he'd leave without getting caught. At least, that's how it was.

His phone started to buzz, alerting the convicts. "Who's phone was that?"

"What do you mean? That's not my phone."

"Jimmy I swear to god..."

"It's not me!"

Suddenly, the voices got closer. Fuck.

"Hey, looky here! We got ourselves an intruder! Boss, come look!" Oliver found himself face to face with a drug addicted gang member leering at him. Oliver made and unimpressed face and stood straight, brushing himself off. He had to pretend that this didn't bother him, the fact he was surrounded by more people than he could take on. He thanked the heavens he had time to send the audio file to Logan and hide his phone. He had managed to record enough proof that Virgil was in fact innocent, as well as gather info about the gang itself. The detective wasn't all that sure that the file had gone through, but that wasn't his main concern right now. His main concern was the towering man who was making his way through the criminals. His arms were covered in tattoos of naked women and scorpions, and there was a trashy teardrop tattoo underneath his left eye. Oliver could tell by the way the man carried himself that he was the leader.

The detective fought the urge to take an involuntary step back, opting for a warning snarl. "What are you, a little kitten? Do you really think you're intimidating?" The man stood a good foot and a half above the detective as he mocked him, the laugh carrying a threat. He made a motion and in a blink of an eye, Oliver deflected the blows of two gang members and grounded them. The two groaned on either side of him, and the leader's look darkened.

"Kick his ass, Hector!" a voice yelled from the back, causing a deadly glint to appear in the man's eyes. Uh-oh, this isn't good...

The leader, who was apparently called Hector, grabbed the detective's tie, yanking him close to inspect his face. Rather than reward him with the terror he expected, Oliver spit in his face, a lopsided grin springing to life on his face. His show of defiance only resulted in the man's large hand closing in around his throat.

Oliver was hoisted up off the ground and shoved against the wall behind him. Black dots swarmed his vision and he clawed at the hand that held him captive, attempting to breath. His feet started to kick wildly, fear setting in. One of his feet landed on his captive’s chest, causing the latter to loosen his grip just enough for Oliver to inhale some of that sweet, sweet air.

He gasped as a force spread across his face, dazing him. The pain that set in a few moments later made him realize that Hector had decked him. Taking a command from some unseen signal, the gang set on him like a pack of wolves. The small male let out a small whimper, his mouth running dry as the members pummeled him. Through the pain, he managed to assess the injuries with a (somewhat) clear head. At least two broken ribs and a shit ton of bruises. He felt his hair grabbed and the ground rushed at him. He tried to focus. One concussion.

Vaguely grasping at some form of comprehension, Oliver was dragged upright. His shirt had been ripped slightly during the scuffle, and the members holding him snickered with glee at see what their leader had in store for the intruder.

A flash caught Oliver’s eye. A knife. He settled a defiant gaze on the holder of the weapon, the leader looking back at him with a malicious glint in his eyes. Oliver wouldn’t show him any sort of weakness. He felt the blade along the side of his neck, and in one swift movement, the choker he had been wearing fell to the ground. Blood trickled down, but the detective refused to give in, breathing in and out calmly. “Mm, you’re a tough cookie to crack, aren’t you?” The leader chuckled, pacing in front of the other, like a cat toying with its food.

Oliver just continued to maintain an even, cold gaze, unable to speak, but not really caring. The threatening man in front of him cut open the front of his shirt even more, dragging the knife across his bare chest lightly. “Perfect,” he muttered lovingly.

Pain erupted as the gang leader suddenly started to carve into Oliver’s chest, causing a few whimpers. “What a pretty boy you are. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to have some fun after all..."

Finally, the fear Oliver had been keeping at bay crept into his eyes as they widened, the implications obviously as Hector grabbed his face and planted a hard kiss to the detective's lips. He struggled in vain, but as the imposing character grew closer for comfort, he understood that he wasn't getting out of it. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth.

Roman glanced down at his phone, not really caring. That day's events had left him warn out and heartbroken, the shattered feeling in his chest aching dully at this point. A quick swipe showed him that it was Oliver. Opening the text, the princely detective frowned, eyebrows knitting together. An address?

Another text.

Detective Prince inhaled sharply. "Logan, get your ass up, we need to leave right now!

"What? Why?" Logan walked from the bathroom, shoulders tense at the tone of his partner's voice.

Roman simply showed him the phone, Logan's face paling before he stiffened, swiftly throwing on his jacket.

Neither of them, in the years they had worked with the mute detective, had they ever received a text like that from Oliver. It meant he was in severe trouble.

The young detective stared down at the text, his mind going a million miles an hour. He felt a hand on his, tugging him along. Roman continued to go through all the worse possible scenarios, hoping to god that none of them was true. Logan sped the whole way there, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

Oliver: plshlpme

Lights blinded him, making him even dizzier as he dragged himself a couple more inches. He felt arms grab him gently, mentioning something about the hospital. What hospital? Why did he need to go to the hospital? His head rolled back, illiciting a small whimper from the contact with the gash in his head. Why did he hurt so much? He felt arms around him, and he latched on, only feeling terror.

"Shh, Oliver, you're going to be okay..." A couple of drops fell on his face, and sharps gasps filled the car. He wondered why...

There, on the small detective's chest, was a crudely carved scorpion.

OH WOW AN ANGSTY CHAPTER :D I got close to 3000 words with this one because I couldn’t stop writing and I just didn’t want to leave it like that, yknow?

[rainwashedhistory]

Quarantine Journal

Apparently I am incapable of maintaining a daily pace -- part of this is trying to fit ONE day in at a time and finish the day and then forgetting the next morning.  I'ma TRY to get back to it but let's go a little free-form right now.  Maybe I'll start posting weekly instead?  Today is 6/13.  Some shit's gone down.

Shawn, my old boss from WWP died.  I feel bad that I never got to tell him what he meant to me.  I wrote a pretty long memorial thing on insta/facebook.  I'ma repost it here too... with a couple, more honest updates.  Readmore at the end.

I'm planning to go up to Redding for Shawn's memorial right after Father's day.  Terrified of COVID but hey.  This only is going to happen once.  I'm gonna stay with my high school bestie, and hopefully see my friends Aleesha and Robyn, at least.  And get some chicken rolls.  The sushi place we used to go to is under new ownership buuuuuut.  And this will almost certainly be the last time in my life I'm ever going to go to waterworks park, so let's make it count, I guess?  I bought a cute romper onepiece swimsuit that hides a bit of the quarantine bod.

On the way to Redding, I am officially gonna hit up Liz's place!  I miss my girl. Need to meet Connor!

Stafford House is officially gone for good.  I have cleaned out my classroom.  There are rumblings that the school might be bought by another co. that wants to do more vocational training -- fingers crossed that happens and that I'll have a job there?  Yikes. Hello Future, indeed.  I also stole my CAE books.  Hell if I'm giving those back.  I also took my test binders and a few mini-whiteboards that Patti offered

There's been a ton of BLM protests here.  I feel guilty af that I haven't been to a single one or done much of anything -- I just don't feel safe doing so.  Both physically, at protests where cops are pretty openly inciting violence, and... situationally?  OANN is quartered here, and if my parents see me at one of them, I stg they'll kick me out of my place.  Things downtown are pretty boarded up.  And like I'd be donating but I need to fucking save my money because COVID relief unemployment is not gonna last forever.

I spent like 2 weeks not talking to mom.  Had a call with her a couple days ago, though, and it was... fine.  No major yelling about politics.  Phew.

Therapy... I went this week.  Meh.  I'm not sure it's helping all that much.  I really want to start going in person again, this teletherapy stuff is balls.

I've been applying to jobs.  It's the worst.  Especially because even though there are a handful of job postings, with COVID, who even knows what'll happen.  will schools reopen?  I should really start pouring myself into the online teaching stuff but so many sites make it so difficult.  I re-applied to ALI, god give me strength.  And I need to re-apply to Miramar.  SIGH.

I'm hanging out more and more (every saturday) with Ricky, Mat, Stazia, and Nick.  This is helping give me some balance.  And kitty time. Whenever their skittish cats come chill with me I feel blessed.

I killed my sourdough starter, somehow.  All orange tinged.  Nick gave me a new one (dried).  I built it back up and have since found a me hair, a cat hair, and a big ass bug in it.  WTF?  It still... looks good though?  Gonna give it a bit to see if it goes off, too.

Meals for this week incluced hot honey butter-glazed chicken, fettuccine pasta & mushrooms, and one-pan vegetable udon.  All three were good but not necessarily mind-blowing.  I probably should start food logging again?

Painted my nails all pride-y.  Will post a pic later.

Bought lighting for computer desk and bedroom, FINALLY

Cats seem mostly flea-free, though mimosa is still not sleeping on the bed like a psycho

FINALLY (like 8 months later) got my car engine steam cleaned, will try to get an appointment to get my engine checked before I try to drive up to fucking Redding

Got the prelim documents in for my RealID.  I need to get an appointment at the DMV but they're not scheduling them right now

School starts Monday. I am nooooot ready.

Mortgage is delinquent?  Inquiring about COVID relief stopped payment on our autopay and now things are all messed up.  SIGH I hope this doesn't go on my credit.

Haven't been walking nearly enough.  It's really hard to make myself shift into that again, and frankly I need to.  It's been three months since I've worked out at all.

Keeping up with RnM with Erica.... it's a fucking wild ride and I'm soooo glad she loves it as much as I do

Started playing Assassin's Creed Odyssey.  It's fun af, but also not like... engrossing like HZD was, which means I don't feel too cranky when I can't play.  holy SHIT the world is huge tho.  And gorgeous.  But again, maybe... too huge, and too samey-same.  I get that that's the region, but I loved how HZD changed so much depending on the area you were.  SPEAKING OF HZD, the news about H2FW came out and hooooly shit I am hyped.  We're going to Cali!

Here have some more mask GPOYs

Other stuff:

Temp still normal, in the high 97/low 98 range

RHR is hovering around 64-67

Steps have been in the 2-3000 range, yikes

Weather has been lovely, why am I not going out more???

Ok fam, that's it.  Time to shower, get dressed, and head over to R&M's for weekly mandated social time.

source

https://katalyst.livejournal.com/494991.html

Shawn, you were my first, and one of my best mentors. You promoted me to management when I was an anxious, terrified, by-the-book 18 year old who had absolutely no idea why she was even considered for the position. You had so much faith in me and my abilities and you were the most patient boss I have ever had -- you taught me every year, for years, how to start up the pumps again, until I literally could do it in my sleep, even now, over a decade later. You taught me how to fix almost anything in the park, and you never acted like there was anything I was too fragile or stupid to do -- even when others did.

You were tough, and I never wanted to get on your bad side... but you were also supremely kind -- I remember you yelling at almost everyone, at least once, except me. Even when I deserved it and I made mistakes that would cost the company money. I remember begging you to take it out of my paycheck and you just stopping and laughing and telling me it was okay, just not to do it again. I think you knew I would crumble, and all you ever wanted to do was build me up.

You knew the value, and the joy in a hard day's work... and you also knew how to take it easy, and that both are vitally important. I remember the day I slept straight through my alarm and you opened the whole park without calling me, just to give me a little break. I remember the way you taught me that management was never above any job -- if you expected your employees to do something, you'd always pitch in and show them that you weren't too good to clean a toilet, too. I'll never forget your 36 hour days, or your calling in well to work, or shiraz Saturdays. I desperately miss sitting in your office or up on the side of the river ride and eating pizza and talking. Everything I loved about Waterworks really came down to working with you and the community you helped foster there.

You taught me how to find my voice and stand on my own two feet in a job that I found utterly terrifying, after living with a family where I never had one. You were a second dad to me -- one who stuck up for me, who was always in my corner. I honestly don't think, if it weren't for you, that I would have found the confidence to pursue teaching. There is so much good in my life that you helped me reach for, and I will always be grateful.I'll be opening a big bottle of Yellowtail this Saturday in your honor. I miss you.