#its honesty day so here ya go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaylleoo14 · 1 year ago

Text

An Indirect confession

Unbeknownst to his knowledge of those simple words

>GN!ReaderxJade

A/N: For those who don't know, in Poetry there’s this thing where if you ask someone if the moon is beautiful it basically is an indirect way of saying “i love you.” And if the other person agrees then they are basically reciprocating and its mutual, so I guess you can get the gist of where this is going >:) muehehe (also sorry if the writing is kinda dry 😭My brain juices were not juicing 😔) This is also pretty lengthy so I apologize for the long read ^^;

[wc] 12.2k words

[disclaimer] Jade

[characters] Jade, Ortho, Deuce, Jack, Grim, Floyd, Azul

Normally students tend to avoid going to Octavinelle, the dorm that seems notorious for its shady under swept deals and the students residing there seeming to be all hushed and tight lipped about certain information. Some things they shouldn't know, yet they do and it makes you wonder how exactly they get such information. Yet one thing is undeniable, and it's the fact that they have a great cafe which tends to be overpriced, but usually of befitting prices for what they serve and provide.

Mostro Lounge, a chic sea themed cafe which is managed by Azul Ashengrotto and runned with students from all other dorms who seek to make extra cash. Its meals and tableware, everything from the music to the decor and the overall vibe was perfect for one to leisurely dine in and perhaps hang out and study. The calming hues of blue and purple, a shimmering accent of silver which compliments the place helps create a nice pleasant place and provides a great aesthetic. It surely did look pretty and elegant, the food there being just as delicious and the drinks delightful as the jazzy music sets in the vibes.

Nov - 12, XXXX

It was during the colder season where the sun usually starts to set earlier and the days would be shorter, the nights getting longer to be able to view the starry sky. Although not too late, the moon had already risen and was in full view. You sat near the glass wall where a full display of the waters were open and of view to you, nothing letting it shy away from watching eyes. Nothing roamed in the waters as you can make out, the only thing lighting up the dark void passed the glass being the lights illuminating the room you currently were dining in. Different colored corals and sea plants can be seen wavering around on the floor-the currents making it wave around slightly, its movements kind of enchanting you as you zone out for a bit watching the steady pacing.

“If you aren’t going to eat your food then I call dibs!” Grim exclaims right at the same time he snatches up your plate of food, to which you ordered some simple and light vermicelli noodles. The bowled plate is taken away and you didn’t even seem to mind honestly. The soothing jazz music, the calm night in the lounge, and the background noises of side conversations from other students which can be heard as the workers walk by to drop off their orders or bust their tables. It was almost lulling you into a state of drowsiness, the temperature just right for you to even take a nap right here and now.

“Tonight is very nice, don't you think Grim?” You say almost absent mindedly as you continue to stare at the empty waters. Your form is still like a doll as you keep your eyes on the glass pane window.

“Because you’re treating me out for food? Heck ya! Nyahaha!” His response only prompts you to roll your eyes and a smirk spreads across your face as you sarcastically shake your head.

“Yea well maybe I won't next time. After all, what are the chances of you getting all full marks on Crewel's potionology test?” Grim can only respond with a confident and upbeat response, ensuring that he is bound to continue to excel and this was just the beginning. You can only scoff but in all honesty, you can't deny that you were indeed proud of him for being able to reach a perfect score.

And if it weren’t for Jade’s help Grim wouldn’t have done so well.

“Are you enjoying your night here in our humble dorm, Prefect?”

Speak of the devil. Jade comes up with a hand placed over his chest, giving you his signature smile as you turn to look at him, your head no longer facing the pane glass wall. Grim is engrossing himself in the food, perhaps the reason why he isn't feeling too timid with his presence at the moment.

“Surprisingly.” Your answer was short and blunt, but it was enough for Jade to chuckle a little as he finds amusement in your rather tired honesty.

“Well I’m pleased to know that you are enjoying yourself in our lovely sanctuary (y/n),” his usual politeness being one of his main outward characteristically point. A yawn escapes from your mouth, placing a hand over to try and show courtesy and politeness as you nod your head to his response, not being so responsive.

“You seem to be quite exhausted, Prefect, perhaps you should start heading back. Or if you want, we can lend you a room. For a certain price of course.” You don't even need to look at him to know that he has this sly little smile plastered on his face until Grim interjects before you can respond.

“Nyah, we actually prefer to go back to Ramshackle now that we are done eating, right my henchman?”

“Once I’m done with my drink, then we’ll head back,” and just as you said, you reached over to cup the blue wine glass that was filled halfway with a fruity and sweet concoction of juices that danced on your tongue when you took a sip. Wanting to occupy yourself with something, you play around with the metal tube as you proceed to enclose your lips around the straw to take a generous sip of the beverage. Its taste was able to freshen you somewhat as you closed your eyes and relaxed a little on the leather seat, the smell granting you a satisfied hum. Grim next to you could only whine for you to hurry up - not wanting to stay any longer in the presence of one of the eel twin, but just to play around spitefully you purposely started to drink a lot slower and Jade can only watch as he’s always done and squint his eyes a little as his smile widens.

Jade’s attention is brought onto the glass wall that he noticed you were staring at before, looking up only to be met with the glimmering silver that soaks into the waters swaying waves. The full moon looks back down at him as he continues to stand in front of your booth, continuing to sip your drink as Grim starts to lay next to you to take a nap.

“The moon is quite beautiful tonight, don't you think Prefect?” He says it ever so calmly, saying those words as if to spark another conversation with you. Though it only prompts you to start coughing and hacking as you accidentally slurped in your drink a bit too fast and it ended up going to the wrong pipe. You’re practically hurled over, hitting your chest as you wipe your mouth and Jade can only watch with wide eyes.

“Nyahh!? What happened?!” Grim springs up from the sudden jerking motion of your coughing figure and you clench the ledge of the table sitting at the end of the cushion.

“My, did I say something out of the ordinary (y/n)?” Once you look up to find his full attention on you, you can only try to calm down and inhale a breath as his display of a friendly smile bore into you. Why are you making such a big deal? It’s not like those words had any meaning in this world, so there's no need to be making such a big deal (y/n)!

You’re quite embarrassed honestly, especially because you thought he just confessed right then and there. But of course, that can't be the case because those words don't mean anything in this world like it does in yours. Quickly reaffirming yourself in your head, you let out another cough to clear your throat and catch your breath.

“A-Ah, no uhm, I thought I misheard you is all haha. But ahem, I would say that tonight is rather lovely haha.” And you try to regain your composure as you divert your eyes and finish up with your drink. A small hum can be heard from Jades tall figure as he places his fist over his mouth. “Well, I see you are rather more awake now. Pray do tell what you misheard, I am curious to know what got you so worked up dear Prefect.”

Your cheeks are only decorated in more of a slightly deeper shade of red, and suddenly the straw is very interesting to look at as you twirl it around in between your gloveless fingers. “You won’t get it, it won't make sense anyways. Just some nonsense.” You can only wave your hand dismissively and he can't help but grow even more intrigued as your brows furrow and you continue to brush it off.

“How unfortunate you can’t seem to try and help me understand, even though I went through all the trouble to help you and Grim with your studies. I find that rather unfair especially since I see that you two have bore fruit in your success due to my aid.”

His words help you gain back your composure, resteeling yourself as you straighten your back and shoot him a placate smile. “Hmm? Whatever do you mean Jade? I’m paying you back by visiting you and dining at the place you work at so you can gain income. I think that’s plenty enough to repay you.” He only squints just slightly at you in response and you’re pretty sure you can feel as if you’ve triggered something in him be it good or bad - that's something you don't really wanna find out though.

“Oya? You came to see me specifically? I don't see it as a valid reason enough considering that's how one would usually repay others when they are indebted to them.”

You slightly pout at him, and as usual Jade always seems to counter your attempt of being sly and snarky with his own silver coated tongue. “Whaaat? Are you saying my visit isn’t enough for you? How could you, even though I came all this way just to see YOU specifically.” You lean into the cushion almost dramatically and animated to further emphasize your offended playful nature.

He seems to be fairly accustomed to your playfulness and responds accordingly. “Although you claim to come over to Octavinelle to come visit me specifically, I account this is the first we are talking since you made your appearance. I believe Floyd has interacted with you more than I have today.”

“Okay well point is, I still came over for you. And to express my thanks I was helping the profit of the Mostro Lounge. Not only will you benefit but Azul would greatly appreciate my patronage! Plus, Floyd is happy knowing I'm here. See? Everyone’s happy!”

Finding the littlest details possible, you make it as important as ever. But Jade is not fooled by your little over exaggeration and nitpicking. Of course, one would know another's tricks well when they themselves do it. And he seems to find great entertainment from the way you carry on with this drag. He truly does feel a sort of fondness for you with the way that you are. Not that he’s ever said however.

“Are you assuming that I am satisfied with what you’ve offered me?” When you look up at him you can see the way his eyes look more meticulous now, as if he’s observing your every move. Dissecting you piece by piece as he awaits for your response, patiently waiting for when he could strike and counter your words. You leave your mouth slightly agape for a moment thinking carefully for what your next words were to be, carefully trying to see what you could say in response - however the pressure of having to hurry and say something quick overrides you because if you don't, then it would be like you couldn’t match up to him. Not like you could ever, but it wasn’t a nice feeling when you let others know they have a winning upperhand. And he seemed to relish knowing that you were feeling this pressure from the way he was looking at you.

“I am assuming you aren’t dissatisfied with it.” Putting up an undeterred front, you do your best to try and keep a steel-like straight face as you stare at his mismatched eyes.

With the way his eyes go back to their non-disturbing look you can only assume you satisfied him with your play of trying to be undisturbed. The tension is then suddenly broken when Grim lets out a complaint, saying how he’s tired already and that he just wants to go home now. Sprawled over your thighs as his back lays against them as if he was putty, an unprompted sigh escapes your mouth and you pick up grim in your arms, standing up as you begin to excuse yourself.

“Goodnight then Jade, I’ll excuse myself now.”

“And as is the same to you, pleasant dreams to you Prefect.”And with that, Jade goes ahead and picks up the empty porcelain dishes and the glass cup, remnants of eaten food and a little puddle of liquid to show it had been put to its intended use.

‘I came all this way to see YOU specifically.’ Your words replay in his head as he walks back to the kitchen, a slight sulky pout on his face to which no one is able to witness.

“I wish you could say that more often my dear (y/n).” Setting them down into the sink, the water runs as he turns on the faucet. The pressurized water splashes as the dishes make contact and he can only stare down at it as he begins to think of you. A little susurrus naturally slipped out under his breath as the sound of running water deafened his words of one sided longing. “Hmm, it seems that they were trying to avoid agreeing about the moon… ”

On the walk back to your dormitory, Grim looks up at you from where you hold him in your arms. “Hey Henchman, did Jade say something funny back there?”

Looking down at him, the pale ashen color of the moon's rays blanketing you both as it illuminates your path, you can only give him a slightly wide eyed response. “It’s nothing. Just something from my world is all. What he said about the moon, it means something in my world…” Your voice can only trail off as you think back to the incident, the familiar expression of embarrassment starting to bubble up again as your face heats up to which you can't help but bury your face in Grims fur as you recall what a stupid reaction you must’ve given. Grim is grumbling and complaining as you indulge in his fuzziness, seeming a bit shocked and confused from your sudden outburst. “Yer squeezin’ me ahhh!”

Loosening your grip on him, he lets out a dying wheeze as if he finally escaped from a crushed boulder on top of him. The sound of your shoes walking softly on the ground fills the air aside from the huff you let out as you try and sort yourself out.

You’re overreacting here (y/n), Jade doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even know what those words mean! And even if he did it’s not like you love him either. Though that simple phrase was enough to have you thinking about him the entire walk back, perhaps going to give you some sweet dreams just as how he wished you back when you left.

He definitely knew what he was doing-as the leech he is-was able to slither his way into your thoughts as planned and stick there. Something similar to a parasyte as one can compare. The way he just sticks in your head as you now roll in bed, constantly replaying his words. Why do you keep replaying these words? Why does your heart race when you replay the scene in your head over and over again and you remember how his voice sounded? Why were you starting to make random scenarios in your head, visualizing him and you wa- SNAP OUT OF IT (Y/N)!

Sure no ones ever said those words to you before but you have to remember that it means nothing! So what if the moon is beautiful? That's all there is! You must be crazy if you think you may be coming down with something regarding that little slimy eel. He doesn’t know what those words mean anyways, why would he say that to you?

Point is, he doesn't know. End of discussion!

. . .

He knows.

Oh he soooo knows, though you don’t know he knows. At least, not yet.

Moving the pawn over to create space for the castle to move, Jade makes his move while hovering over the wooden chess pieces. Closely calculating every piece carefully despite there being no other attentive player on the other side. Not wanting to catch your attention like a snake hunting for its prey, he goes ahead and advances forward quietly.

Nov - 6, XXXX

“Deuce! Jack! W-wait up for me, please!” You tiredly try to jog towards Deuce and Jack, though you would say it's less of jogging and more so walking at a jagged pace. Sweat drips down your form, drenching you and stains of sweat are pitted on your underarms and chest. You slow down, bending over as you place your hands on your knees to catch your breath. The sun's rays washing over the lands as you three stand beneath it, its heat adding onto more of excretion of sweat.

“N-Never again. You two are trying to kill me!” Huffing and gasping desperately, Deuce comes over to pat your shoulder in hopes of comforting you. His hand placed softly atop of your draping shoulder as he slightly bent down to your crouched figure. “Sorry (y/n), I didn’t consider how today's club session would be like for people who aren’t accustomed to running so much at a consistent rate.” You can tell by the tone of voice that he genuinely felt guilty having you get put up with all that running, and Vargas being Vargas was not so lenient.

“My feet are in so much pain. It feels comparable to wearing heels the entire day, I hate this so much.” A feigned sob is ushered out and as the reliable person he is, Jack comes over to try and comfort you as well. “I can lend you an arm if it helps. Really, you should have expected that much running at least when you offered to come participate in the track and field club.” To be fair, you only came because Deuce wanted you to check out the club in hopes that you’d be interested in joining. So you gave it a shot.

Never again. Jack shakes his head as if scolding a little child and the sound of him clicking his tongue can be heard, his brazen feathered white locks of hair swishing from side to side as he jerks his head.

“I can lend you my arm as well! Please don't hesitate to ask for my help if you need it (y/n)! I’ll gladly let you rely on me.” Deuce’s sweet fluffy voice reminding you of a newborn hatched chick makes you soften up a bit, and despite being so sweaty you went ahead and latched onto Deuce as his offer seemed much more friendly and welcoming. He seemed to not mind it though, and Jack seems to not care whether or not you planned on relying on him. Though you acknowledge his outwardness to help. With a settled huff, you three began to walk down the dirt path that maps out the campus.

“Maybe my feet hurt because I don't have the proper footwear.”

“Your preparation skills are even worse than I thought (y/n).”

“Look, what's done is already done okay? No need to keep saying stuff that would get me into a dour mood Jack.”

“You’re right, I didn’t mean to restate the obvious then if you’ve already acknowledged it.”

His words just make you hit him slightly on the arm, not in a hurtful way but a hit that was as light as when the waves would crash onto your feet in the sand. He didn’t mean to sound ill willed, but he has his ways of showing concern for those he cares about. He grimaces for a bit but simply overlooks it knowing that was just your usual play, noticing the way his ears would twitch from your usual playfulness - you guys had a comfortable dynamic and it showed.

“If you don't have any proper footwear, we can go stop by Sam’s shop and buy you some.”

Deuce suggestion diverts your attention back onto him, your arms still linked together as you lean on him for support while you stagger off, giving him a reaffirming nod. He seemed pleased to be of help to you, as if fulfilling the role of a good friend.

“Yea, let's go. I need to buy me some new socks anyways.”

“Socks? Not shoes?”

“I don't think the problem is with my shoes. Although it may not be all the best to comfort me in running, it still gets the job done.”

Jack can only look down to observe your shoes as if to analyze what you said is true, trying to identify whether or not your words support your claim. His yellow sunset gaze which could be compared to how the sun's rays shined is heating you all right now as it bores down on you.

“Jack, before you say anything. Don't.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Don't look at my shoes, I’m poor okay. I feel like you’re secretly judging me.”

“Not exactly judging per say.”

“See! That doesn't make it any better.” A light chuckle originates from Jack as he playfully looks over to you, a small smile soon cracking on his caramel skinned face as his voice dies down.

“How are you feeling Prefect?” A firm hand is now gripped on the other side of your shoulder, the feeling of your sweaty and sticky body meshing with your clothes as your scent muddles in with the fibers making up the cloth hugging your figure. Deuce has been walking alongside you now for the entirety of your guys walk as you head towards Sam's Shop, still quite a distance away. Feeling the need to check in on you, he continues to firmly lay his hand on your shoulder to better comfort you.

“Deuce, you’re so considerate. I feel like I might just let out a heartfelt sob for how sweet you’re being right now.” You let out a feigned exasperated sigh - in response though Deuce’s reaction is one of surprise which you could feel without even looking at the way his body stiffens a little.

“E-Eh? This really is nothing though (y/n), you’re in pain after all. It would only be natural to help someone in need.”

“True, but you know this really helps a lot. I’m in so much pain, I practically don't wanna walk anymore.”

“You’re over exaggerating a bit,” A little quip response from Jack makes you pout and shake your head to show you denied it.

“Not true! Gosh if I had a significant other or something I'm sure they wouldn’t mind carrying me! Ah the convenience of having someone like that.”

“Do you really think they’d do something like that for you?”

“Would you do that for your significant other?”

And without a second thought, he immediately answers. Only then does he seem to find how meaningless his question was upon answering yours.

“I think having a significant other would be nice, but I don't think that's something I am trying to actively pursue right now.” Deuce chimes in his own thoughts and you let out a little laugh which also chimes just as beautifully.

“I think you’d need to be better at talking to girls first before you even consider trying to pursue one.” Light hearted laughter airs around you as you lean into his arm, your shoulders bumping up rhythmically.

“W-wha-!”

“The last time you talked to a girl, or tried to court one - if you can even call it that - was the ghost that kidnapped Idia.”

Deuce sputters out, feeling a sense of embarrassment as you tease him about his interactions with the ghost bride, his face burning a bright red like the cards in which glossed a new coat of red paint on white roses. Besides you both, Jack takes into consideration your walking speed. He truly was showing consideration in his own way and it was something you didn't mind at all, in fact it made you feel appreciative for what he was doing. He would be leaving the two of you in the dust if he wanted to, only showing that he does indeed care about you. Deuce does the same of course, considering you are latching onto him for support as you stagger about.

“I would understand why Deuce would just freeze up like that. When it comes to expressing those types of feelings it’s always better to actually be sincere about it.” Jack has always been more on the serious side, always viewing the perception of love as something that should last forever between you and your partner. A sense of loyalty and something not to take lightly of.

Love has many different meanings to it. A vast broad way to make a connotation of sorts which could be related in any way whatsoever. Something that you blatantly already knew of course. “Ok mister love counselor, I get that part alright? Besides, it’s not like you have to actually say you love them, I think it’d be harder to believe if you did say ‘i love you’ though.”

With his ears flattening with your sarcastic remark he should’ve known better than to say something that has at least more than once been thought about.

“She didn’t require you to say ‘I love you.’ As long as you were a good enough candidate to fit her unrealistic, old fashion, and cliche ideal standards then you’d be good to go.”

“Okay but I meant it in a general sense. Not just for the incident with Eliza.”

“What do you mean?” His question beckons to be answered as his tail waves from slight confusion, Deuce also sharing a similar if not more confused look.

“Well if someone told you they loved you in a romantical sense, would you believe them?”

“Am I supposed to doubt them? That’d just be rude and disrespectful to their feelings.”

“Me personally, you could say it would also depend on who's confessing to me.”

“That's true too Deuce. I could say the same. But I don't know. How could you believe someone who would confess such strong words towards you? I find it a bit surreal.”

“Has anyone ever confessed to you (y/n)?”

“Shut up Jack.”

A low snorkeling chuckle comes out unprompted as he muses himself in your dejected response and Deuce can only shake his head a little from the way the two of you have been slightly bantering with each other. Usually it would be Jack to be the one shaking his head, but you tend to bring out the mischievous and playful side of him.

“I’m going to take this personally and hope that you also take me not taking your arm personally too.”

Jack is visibly taken aback with your proclamation as his ears perk up. “How childish!”

“No it's not! You basically just told me that I'm not attractive!”

“Don't put words into my mouth!”

“Or! Perhaps you do have secret admirers and they are too scared to confess (y/n)”

Silence fills the air as you both have failed to think of such a possibility during the small moment of your little bantering, both your heads turning to look at Deuce who gives you guys a more serious face.

Relaxing a bit as Jack and you jaunted down, you go back to your usual casualness as the three of you continue your way to Sams. Your destination is not too far off as you three have been filling the time with conversation, making the walk feel shorter than usual. “Oh that might be true for most people. People may just be scared to confess to others.”

“I mean you can always indirectly confess you know. A lot of people do that instead of outwardly confessing.”

Deuce's eyes widen a bit with a type of child's curiosity and it only prompts you to further expand on what you meant. “Do you mean like a love letter?” Jack inquires and gives off from your earlier proposition.

“Yeah, basically. Or you can say something to convey your feelings to them.”

“Such as?” Deuce with his ample experience seems to show quite the interest despite stating some time ago that pursuing someone was not something he was actively trying to do. Though he still valued it as something to consider for future references in the case that a situation were to spring up and prompt him to initiate.

An endearing smile scrawls on your face as you peer over to Deuce, Jack also listening intently as well. All this talking seems to have distracted you from the pain in your feet, but despite your hold on Deuce’s arm loosening you continue to keep your arms linked together anyways as the cool breeze comes to freshen you three up.“Well, there is this saying in poetry back in my world some people were fond of using some time ago. You basically ask someone if the moon is beautiful, and that's basically saying that you love them. If they agree with you then that's them reciprocating your feelings.”

“Ah, really? That’s some interesting and creative way of doing it. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to tell at all and only see it as a regular question though.” Deuce still nonetheless finds it rather intriguing. “Really? I’m sure there must be a saying similar to that here.” As you make it up to the shop, finally arriving after what felt like a short time despite the lengthy conversation, you find a familiar face.

“Oh, is that? Ortho!” Waving over to Ortho, he reciprocates the friendly gesture and waves back. Seemingly, it appeared that Ortho just came back from some shopping from Sam's shop, quickly walking over in a spring-like gait.

“Ah! It’s (Y/n)(L/n), Deuce Spade, and Jack Howl! What a pleasant surprise to see you guys. Are you guys planning on getting something from Sam's shop?” His friendly personality was warming as usual and he was one of the people here whom you got along fairly well.

Finally latching off of Deuces arm you decide to give it a try to stand as you also intend to approach Ortho with a welcoming and friendly smile. No longer leaning your weight on Deuce to help support yourself, you wince a little but endure the pain as you apply your usual weight onto your feet. Ortho seems to automatically notice and with the way his brows furrowed to show concern, Deuce and Jack come from behind standing close in the case that something happens.

“Ah prefect, you seem to be in pain! Your pain receptors and heart rate along with your tissue sensors seem to indicate you have a sense of soreness on your feet! Have you been over exerting yourself perhaps?” And as usual, due to Ortho’s inbuilt sensor indicator he seems to be all the more observant about your throb.

“Aha you could say that. I joined Deuce and Jack in their club today so that's why. So here we are to buy some comfortable socks for me in the near future if this does happen again.”

Your lighthearted laugh doesn't seem to shake off Ortho’s concerned looking face however, so he offers to try and heal you up with some ointment packed on him. You’re grateful really, but you don't really feel all that comfortable taking your shoes and socks off right now in front of your friends after a hearty run.

“Oh no thank you Ortho. I really appreciate it but I’m sure I’d be better with some rest after. On another note, how about you search something up for me?” Your sudden change in topics catches Deuce’s and Jack’s attention as they both stare at your back as if knowing what you plan on asking.

“Oh sure! If you insist so then I’ll leave you be then Prefect. What is it you wanted me to search up? I can get it in a blast!” His enthusiasm felt infectious and it quirks a small smile on your face despite the enduring pain. His body language conveying as such similar to how a human normally would if not for his obvious robotic decals and constructure.

“Could you see if this saying means anything? ‘The moon is beautiful, isn't it?’” In a docile manner he quickly gets to it and with a few audible beeping computerized clicks he announces some articles and other works of literature where such a line would be found; similarly fitting the words or having the words exactly but not in a way to express someone's affection for another.

“Ah, I see. So your world really doesn't have that saying around.” You didn’t sound disappointed per-say, but you didn’t really expect much either. Upon noticing your lack of reaction, Ortho tilts his head curiously.

“What were you hoping to find Prefect? I’m sure whatever it was we can find it together!”

Shaking your head lightly you only cross your arms and let out a slight sigh. “You see, back in (y/n)’s world, that saying is an indirect way to say ‘I love you,’ something you say to confess your feelings apparently.” Jack comes from behind and now to the side of you as he makes his presence more prominent. With an intrigued shine in Ortho’s eyes, he grips on his grocery bag slightly and brings a delighted fist up over to where his mouth would be.

“Ah! On the way here were you guys perhaps talking about ways to confess to someone?”

“Er, not exactly. The topic kinda just happened as we were talking about how to indirectly confess to someone in general.” Deuce also comes in to step up from behind and by your side now as he too makes his presence more prominent.

“Oh I see, the topic of love and confessions! How wondrous, should I search for some other ways to indirectly court or express your feelings towards someone?”

Bringing a hand up to stop Ortho, you give him a little small smile to assure him that it wasn’t needed. “Thanks for the offer Ortho, but that was all I wanted at least. Everythings rather copacetic right now anyways haha.”

“Anyways, we should better get going since I have some plans later.” Jack begins to announce as he proceeds to walk up and you soon follow after in a wobbly state, though still managing, as Deuce follows behind intentionally there to look out for you in case you’d need assistance.

“Aww well alright then, it was nice talking to you guys. See you some time!” And with a fleeting goodbye wave, the three of you go ahead and approach Sam’s shop. Ortho now off with a tune playing as he goes down the dirt path road back to Ighynide.

“Oh? How fascinating. To think such simple words convey tremendous feelings, fufu. Perhaps I should try saying it to them sometime when I have the courage.” Near the building of Sam’s shop, a ludicrous tall shadow looms behind a fairly covered tree.

Sneaking behind one of his towers, Jade picks up one of his pawns and sets it forward, diagonal to yours. Now swallowing and taking out one of your pawns he’s able to decrease your chess pieces. Moving your king further back out of sheer blindness and fear, all to which you know you should protect, Jade proceeds to think of his next move; now eyeing the knights in the back row which was still perfectly not in use aligned with his king and queen.

Nov - 6, XXXX

“Sometime ago from the mirror chamber over to the botanical garden I saw Jack, Deuce, and my darling pearl (y/n) coming from the field as I made my way. I must admit, I indeed felt irked that they were clinging onto Deuce like that. However I kept my composure and decided to stay hidden and observe, something that I have always reaped benefits from.”

“To continue along, as I was listening to what they were talking about it appears that they were on the subject of how to court someone indirectly. Oh what a valuable insight to what my dearest has to say!”

In the botanical garden there sat the infamous student, Jade Leech. With no one around in the greenery place, there he sat talking to his mushrooms to which he cared for tenderly. In the placement of actual companions who could listen to his lovesick woes and scheming little ploys, it seems that he much prefers talking to his own plants which grow healthily from his careful attentiveness and candid affection.

“Would my little shrooms care to know what it is my dearest had said?” To no response from the fungi planted in its bed of components, he only lets out a more passionate look to compel more.

“The only thing they talked about was this saying back in their world. The person who asks if the moon is beautiful is quite frankly another way to profess your love in poetry. If the person who you asked it to agrees then they basically are reciprocating your mutual feelings. Isn’t that lovely?”

No response. If someone were to witness this surely they’d think that Jade would be a little crazy. Not like he’ll let anyone see him in this state though. Lest if they do then pray to the sevens that they would be able to see the next day come.

Adjusting the lighting to perfectly fit the conditions to aid its growth, Jade lets out a beaming smile as he thinks about the two things he tends to show more prominent love aside from his familial relations. You and his mushrooms.

“If I continue to engage in social interaction with (y/n) then I am positive the likelihood of them returning my feelings would be higher. I’ve been doing so for the past few months now, perhaps I should start planning my confession.”

Sitting on a bench, he slumps in his folded arms ensuring that his head or arms were away from the bedded fungi; the edge of the earthy wooden table. Flashes of your face and scenarios playing in his head arise like a continuous movie film on repeat, the sound of your laughter and the feeling of his heart racing in his chest felt like he was immersed in the movie he was watching. Oh how he could replay them over and over again, a goofy love-stuck smile curling on his face as he buried it deeper into his arms.

“Jade! There ya are!” A sudden voice calls out to him and he springs up from surprise. He didn't hear anyone come in, just how long has he been in his own little world?

“Ah Floyd, what are you doing here?” Standing up from where he sat, he began to approach Floyd as he was coming over towards his way as well. A prime smile on his face yet he looked brighter than ever.

“Azul needs ya. You’ve been gone for awhile, thought ya went out to the mountains again,” swinging down with a huff as he sits himself on the bench, he leans his head back to give him a rather laid back smile. “Good thing you were in here though, wasn’t plannin’ on tryna get you back all the way from the mountains.”

“Oh my, did I perhaps lose track of time? Thank you for letting me know Floyd, I'll be sure to hurry along then.” The materialistic multitudes of sound coming together as Jade brushes and pats himself come together to accompany the brightful air around him. “Ah? Yer bein’ all smiley Jade, is it cus of these damn mushrooms or somethin?”

“You could say it’s part of the reason, Floyd.”

With a click of the tongue and his brows slightly twitching, Floyd bounces up with a swift swing of his legs and starts walking alongside Jade. “Ugh, is it shrimpy again?”

“Gasp! How did you know?” As Jade makes a feigned gasp and his hand placed over his mouth, Floyd can only roll his eyes and shake his head from his fake and obvious display of faux surprise. “Urgh, keep yer lovey-dovey thoughts to yerself. I aint tryna hear all that sappy and weird stuff again.”

“Oh dear, and here I thought you actually secretly liked to hear my woes Floyd.” With the both of them now walking off, Floyd and Jade start to talk about other affairs as they head back to Mostro Lounge.

Without realizing it, you move your castle over and take out his pawn resting on the black squares making up the chessboard. Too infatuated with his own plans, he fails to see you make a move with your knight and you proceed to place it on a white square. Ready to defend what you have left or ready to steal his pieces.

Nov - 8, XXXX

The indifferent sounds of inharmonious male voices fill up the school halls as they go by their constructed schedule of schooling. Classes are left empty momentarily as students leave to head on and transition over to their next subject whether it be magic history or astrology, or perhaps they may skip and find the chance to slack off.

A diversity of students are scrambling around and covering the school grounds, if seen above it might be like seeing a field of colorful jelly beans laid out on a structured maze platform. Stepping out of the classroom which is labeled at the top “1-A,” you and Grim along with many others go by the schedule as well; stepping out of the classrooms to head on over to their next classes.

“Raaah~! I almost fell asleep there. Can you believe we’re gonna have an upcoming test in Crewel's class?!”

A yawn can be heard and ushered out from your little fur ball of a companion, Grim. Resting on your shoulders you can only respectively share the same tired stare on your face as you step out into the school corridors. “We have a day or two maybe to study for it, it should be enough time to cover what we need to go over.”

The wintery dim skies makes the air around you a bit more chilly than normal, making you feel a little drowsy even. “Mrmgh, why’d we have to get out of bed ~? It was the perfect temperature to sleep in!” As he then closes his eyes while resting on your shoulder, you can only give a sigh and roll your eyes as you make your way over to your shared class. With heavy eyelids and heavy limbs dragging your feet, you lazily make your way past the cluster of students.

“Yea no kidding, I wanted to sleep in too. Any second longer and I would’ve succumbed to the comfort of our bed.” Bringing your hand to your face you start rubbing your drowsy eyes. “God the weather is so perfect to sleep in. A cold morning is so nice.”

“I agree, I feel rather closer to home the more the temperature drops.”

“WHAT THE FUC-/ NYAHHHHH!”

As you and Grim jump up into the air - his fur all frayed and animated looking like those Halloween black cats up on display windows during the spooky-season sales - Jade stands behind the two of you with a casual smile on his face.

“Fufu, well I see you are rather more awake now.” Alongside him stood Floyd and Azul, the most recognizable sea trio ever. Floyd seemed to also be in a sleepy state as his slanted eyes were closed and his stance being all lazy and slump-like. Azul, ever the dashing man he is, looks back at you with a formal smile.

“I must agree with you there Jade. Although the weather cannot nearly compare to the temperature at home, I find the cold to be rather comforting.”

“W-What the hell Jade? Don’t pop up out of nowhere like that.” As you place your hand over your chest, the feeling of your heart beating rapidly due to the fright can be felt and heard in your eardrums. “Apologies, my intention wasn’t to scare you, Prefect.” Although you can't be too sure if he really was genuine with that apology, the look on his face said otherwise. And with a slightly scoffing click of the tongue you fix your posture and stand up with a straight posture to address him.

“What do you guys want?” After you’ve calmed down, you press your palms on your hips, giving him a more stern expression. Grim is practically still recovering from the sudden scare as he clings onto your leg. “Oya? Asking us what we want? Why aren’t you a generous one (y/n).

“Indeed, if that's the case then I would like-”

“You know damn well that's not what I meant!”

“Oi, shut it will you? Yer loud voice is botherin me.” Floyd speaking up in irritance causes you to divert your attention onto him and you flinch back a bit, making note of controlling your volume. Coming up to stand in front of Jade now, your attention is now placed onto Azul, his pristine air around him calling for professionalism. “To be quite frank, we heard your little call of distress just now and would like to offer assistance.” Smiling ever so politely as he places his hand on his slightly puffed up chest, you can only feel a sense of dread for what's to come.

“You want to help us study for our upcoming potionology test? Why? What’s in it for you?”

Feigning a shocked and offended look, Azul shakes his head slightly and you continue on just stare at him with disinterest. “Why, out of the goodness of my heart of course! I’m just trying to help my dear friend, yes? I’m just trying to show my comradery because friends are supposed to support and help each other.” Hearing his words make you snicker, and Jade can’t help but be amused a little at the show displaying your interactions with Azul.

“Hmm? Shrimpy and little seal needs help with their studies? Oooh count me in~ hehe” Finally feeling awake with a sense of amusement, Floyds demeanor shifts to a more sneaky and cunning air around him. “Wait, I didn't even agree to this!” Grim lets out a similar statement as well, picking him up into your arms as you hold him for a sense of comfort.

“Now now no need to be so rude. We merely just want to help.” You know damn well that he has other intentions other than to simply just “help,” and what other perfect way than to try and take advantage of the fact that you two had an upcoming test. “No way, I'd rather have someone else tutor us.”

“Oh how your words and hostility wound me (y/n),” bringing a finger to swipe at his fake tears Azul then moves to the side and switches back up once again. “Very well, if you refuse to take my assistance then why not choose between the Leeches to tutor you?”

Giving him the most “Are you serious” look ever towards Azul, you divert your eyes to look over at Jade and Floyd who stood beside each other. It was like you were in a bachelorette/bachelor show right now having to pick between which twin you wanted to date as Azul was the host. “W-Wait I never-”

“Time’s ticking Prefect, unfortunately we all have classes to attend so hurry won't you?”

WHY IS HE PUTTING ME ON THE SPOT?!

Grim being firm with his whine and response simply says he doesn't want either and jumps out of your arm, scrambling off to class without you, seeing that you really were left alone in this situation. Thanks so much “companion.” Darting your eyes back and forth to Jade's polite yet somehow eerie aired smile and Floyd’s amused and up-to-no-good lazy smirk, you frantically blurt out one of their names without much thought.

“J-Jade!” It wasn’t an easy pick, but in all honesty at least this eel can try and be tame for the most part. So scratch that, it was a rather easier and obvious pick. With a pleased smile on his face, Jade simply places a hand over his chest as if he was glad to have been chosen. “I will do my best to tutor you well then Prefect. Thank you for choosing me.” Ding Ding Ding! And it seems that (y/n) chose contestant number 2! Jade Leech!

“Ehhh? Why didn’t ya pick me shirmpyyyy? It would’ve been so much more fun. Oh well, I’m not really feeling like tutoring ya no more anyways.”

You guess calling Jade was a good call, but the slight glint in his eyes causes some uneasiness in you. Letting out a slight chuckle and a one-sided crooked smile, you look up to Jade who now as well stood in front of you. “Aha, yea.. I look forward to it as well.” As you make up your quick plans of when and where to meet, you four all go your own separate ways to head over to class. Thinking to yourself, you really had no choice or say in this with the way they gave you no options whatsoever.

“Look at you looking so chipper Jade.” Floyd slightly remarks as out of the three, Jade's smile is ever so radiant.

“Yes, I'm quite pleased that the plan went rather well.”

“‘Pleased’ is such an understatement. You seem more ecstatic to say the least, like how you are always with those batches of mushrooms.”

“Urgh, don't even mention 'em Azul. It's already enough having to hear him talk about his mushrooms and “Shrimpy this” or “Shrimpy that,” blergh.”

“I’m glad to know I am not a direct victim of his ramblings with you in my stead.”

“Oh how you both wound me so.” And as the three walk off in the opposite direction, the show of bachelorette/bachelor has ended with you and Jade going to meet up for your little date. With Grim being there of course, but under Jade's care he is a rather easy case to take care of and Jade will ensure that things will be under control now.

The first drops of snow in your heart flutter down as the first lingering thoughts of Jade come hither to rest in your mind. And as Jade proceeds to move his knights in places to ensure his next move winds up being a success, slowly breaking down your wall of pawns to get to the heart of what makes you stay in the game, to obtain your king and end the game. Slowly but surely, his methodical and strategic thinking would lead him to success and only then, would he be able to have your king. A game of chess to where you don't know you’re playing as he stares down at the chessboard.

I’ve been seeing him more often lately… A lingering thought nestles in as you make your way over to class.

Three pawns down, no moves made, and a clear break through heading towards your unprotected king. An open line is presented and clear for him to make a bold break for it. With slight hesitation as he's about to pick up his knight, he then draws back his hand and proceeds to bring his king up instead.

Present Day

Nov - 15, XXXX

“Hey Henchman, is it just me or have we been seeing Jade a lot more often recently?”

“Glad to know you’re finally noticing Grim, I've seen him around much more frequently since a couple months ago too. It’s quite…. Odd honestly.”

I kinda wanna see him some more though…

“You think he’s trying to get something from us?” Perched on the top of your head, Grim tilts his head forward a little to try and make curious eye contact with you. With his pitchfork-like tail wagging around in the air, you casually make your way down the stairs from NRC’s main building to head back to Ramshackle dorm.

“I hope not. Not like I'll just let him anyway, man I hope we don't see him again.”

I wonder where he could be right now… could he… be busy? It’d be nice to see him again…

With a lift of your foot, another step is placed off the hard slate wooden stairs as you now continue onward. Classes have ended and an assortment of dispersed students with colors consisting of their respecting dorms filter through the halls quickly. Some going back to rest in their dorm rooms, others maybe attending after school club activities, or perhaps some going to pursue their other hobbies. Whatever time is available, every student here uses it to the fullest.

“Ya could say that again. If he comes by again then I’ll just blow out my flames and cook him dry! Nyahaha!”

His arrogant laugh makes you roll your eyes as a soft smile forms on your face, slightly shaking your head with Grims weight on top. “Hah, sure, whatever you say Grim.”

“It's THE Great Grim!”

With a flick of your wrist and a scoff, you couldn't bother to resay his name just for his own satisfaction even in a sarcastic manner. Tilting your head in a mischievous manner, you feel the weight of Grim scrambling and jumping off with a hoarse yelp coming from him. As he lands on his paws, you let out a giggle watching his scowling face directed towards you.

“I was trying to look at the sky, but you were in the way, Grim hehehe.” Knowing that was not at all the case, before Grim could retort he pauses and it causes you to stop in your tracks as well. Standing on the gray pavemented pathway near the open ended exit from which you both came from, you looked down at Grim a bit curiously. “Grim? Why’d you stop?”

Now on all fours, Grim perks his head up as if tailing an annoying fly around his head. With more cat-like animatics, Grim starts swirling his head just slightly and sniffing as if he can see a delicious aroma in those cartoon episodes. “Somethin’ smells good…”

The cold weather makes it hard for odor particles to pass through due to the more compact molecules, however you can tell just how drawn Grim is to whatever may be causing the smell. Taking a big inhale, you try smelling whatever it is that Grim may be smelling, your chest puffing up as you take in a big amount of air in your lungs.

“I don't smell anything Grim, what are you-”

“Ah! Over there!” It seems he has found the source of whatever it may be he was smelling, pinpointing it rather quickly as he scurries off. “Ah! Wait Grim! Where are you going?!” Before you can follow suit, not so far off a voice calls out and grabs your attention.

“Ah, good evening prefect.”

Turning your head around, you’re met with no one but Jade. His voice divulging you and making his presence known. Although so suddenly and randomly, you can’t help but feel a sense of tingling in your chest.

Jade!

“J-Jade! What are you doing here?” Changing your position from almost sprinting off, you shift yourself back to face Jade instead to properly converse with him. Upon looking up at him, you note the clouded and dull gray skies as it soars vastly.

“Classes have ended some time ago, I was merely on the way back to my dorm. I would assume that it’s the same for you, yes?” Jade stood comfortably, not another layer of clothing on him in sight to withstand the colder weather while he sticks to nothing but his usual uniform wear. You, on the other hand, had a thicker jacket on top of your uniform to help adapt to the temperature around.

“Well, I was. That was until Grim ran off somewhere again. Hah, seriously I might as well forget about trying to chase after him. He can come back whenever he wants.” With a defeated sigh, you slightly slouch forward with your arms swinging from back to back.

“Hmm well if that's the case, may I walk you back to your dorm?”

You’ve been getting used to how casual he’s been lately, considering the amount of times you’ve been seeing each other through mere “coincidences.” Though recently whenever Jades around you can't but help to have that lingering feeling of wanting to stay with him just a bit longer. Whenever he leaves he immediately fills up your mind whenever you allow it to and you can't help but let your mind wander. Is this perhaps…?

“Hello? (Y/N)? Are you spacing out?” With his hand waving in front of you to snap you out of your daze, your unfocused stare comes back into reality and out of your thoughts. “Huh? What?”

How adorable…

“I asked if I could walk you back to your dorm. If you aren’t feeling well then-”

“Oh no! I’m perfectly fine! I just spaced out for a bit haha. But uhm, I don't mind if you did accompany me back.”

In the way you responded allowed you to give you a sense of freedom to where you aren’t actually giving him a direct and decisive response. More so an indecisive one. Slightly fidgeting with the hem of your jacket you give him a lightly aired chuckle to ease up the atmosphere.

“So I would say you want me to accompany you back, correct?”

“Well I didn’t say that I didn’t want you to accompany me”

“You’re rather indirect with what you want (Y/N).” With a slight tut, shaking his head like a common motion of showing one's dismay you can only rile backup to defend yourself with reason.

“No I'm not! I said I didn’t-! Hah, whatever. Fine, I would like it if you were to accompany me back to Ramshackle Jade.”

“Fufu very well then. It would be my pleasure too.” Seriously, he seems to always have a way with words. Putting you on the spot like that so easily and casually.

But at least we’d be able to spend time together again.

The two of you make your way back over to Ramshackle, following the usual pathway you commonly take when out of classes. The silence lingering between you both causes you to fidget some more as you try to make it obvious you're not at all bothered by it. Staring straight ahead while you see Jade in the corner of your eye next to you as you both walk along-side each other, you can only wonder why he isn't saying anything. Usually Jade makes conversation with you whenever you two are together, perhaps he just isn’t feeling all that talkative. An unfamiliar tension is slightly there, one that wasn’t there before and you can't understand why but to only question it.

Perhaps it's the cold, but you feel your cheeks slightly growing a little red. What other reason could there be? Next to you Jade remains silent while peacefully walking next to you, and without your knowledge, he smiles just slightly feeling a slight of anticipation.

“Curious, but do you maybe know why Grim ran off (Y/N)?” Jade finally breaks the silence by asking a question, you feel a slight relief in your chest.

“Aha, I don't know. He said that he smelled something good… Maybe food? Probably someone is snacking around here and he may be a victim to Grim’s antics and persistence haha.”

“That is not the case” Looking over to Jade who sounds so sure of himself, it quizzes a question out of you. “What do you mean? How can you be so sure?”

“Why, I would know of course. Because I was the one who placed some salted steamed fish near the bushes.”

“What? Then why’d you ask?!” With a nonchalant smile on his face it can only be contrasted to your taken back and startled reaction. Placing a hand on your back, Jade continues the path while guiding you along to continue further with him. “Wait, more importantly why did you do that?”

Jade stays quiet, that smile still on his face as he continues to keep his hand on your back. Wait, now that you think about it you two are going off course and straying from the usual path you take to head back to Ramshackle. With your heart quickening in your chest, you can only start to nervously sweat at where this is going. “U-Uh Jade? Where are we going? What are you doing?”

As his eyes slowly turn to look at you, his head still facing forward however and his smile ever the same, you can't help but to shiver a bit and get a feeling that whatever he’s planning isn't going to go well. “Oya, there’s no need to be so nervous now. I thought we might take a detour to enjoy the weather a bit more.”

“No but uh, you didn't answer my ques-” Suddenly bringing his hand from your back to wrap around your shoulders, he draws you close into his side and it prompts you to stop your walk and just freeze from the surprise. “Why? Well I simply wanted to be alone with you of course.”

Your whole right side of your body is pressed up against his left side. With wide eyes, you don't dare to look over to Jade, refusing to let him see your sudden flusteredness. Your heart is beating so loud that you’re hoping that he can’t hear it as well. His arm around you almost longingly, the sudden stillness as you both don't move a muscle, and the sound of your heart beating at a rapid pace as if on a roller coaster. You really wish you could say that the whole reason your face is red is because of the cold and your body temperature just suddenly dropped! But it would make more sense that you’d be blue and purple then red… So then why exactly are you-

“Oh dear, look at you getting so red in the face. Do you perhaps like the weight of my arm around you?” You didn’t even notice, too occupied in your own thoughts and spacing out, that Jade had proceeded to lean forward to be face to face with you. “Wha-!”

A pleased smile is formed as he sees you snap out of your thoughts and he leans back up and adjusts his arm around you to let it sit more comfortably. Looking back up at the scenery the sky has to hold, he holds you ever so lovingly and affirmably.

“J-Jade what is- what are-! What’s going on!?” Matching the weather, you freeze stiffly in his hold, unfamiliar to his loving touch. It was rather unusual for him to make such a bold and tender move, a foreign feeling yet for you to adjust to.

The sky is covered in splotches of clouded gray cotton, the meek shine from the sun is still blocked by the airy cold sheet of gas yet still blinding to look at. Inhaling the dewy air that gives oneself a sense of refreshment, Jade closes his eyes and tilts his head up to admire the brightened gray scale that vasts above you both.

“Tell me, Prefect,” beginning to speak calmly, you try to distract yourself from your close proximity and focus on what he had to say next. “The moon is quite beautiful, is it not?”

“What?” Killing your stiffness, you’re found to be quite dumbfounded and caught off guard. “What are you talking about Jade? It’s still daytime and the moon isn’t even-”

Pausing, you let his words sink in. The moon isn’t out. His arms are around you. You both are together, secluded. You are alone with him. No Grim. No Deuce. No Floyd. No Azul. Just you and him.

Badum. Wait, is he…

Badum. Did he just tell me…

Badum. Badum. Badum. He knows what that means…

Badumbadumbadumbadumbadum! He just told me he loves-!

“Cat got your tongue? I hope that isn’t the case, it was the only reason why I sent Grim away from us after all.” His thumb is soothingly rubbing circles into your arm while he keeps you in place, ensuring you don't spring up or leave from his hold in any way. This was like his own way of trying to calm you down, fully aware of how thunderstruck you may be at the moment; the motions of his gesture somewhat helping.

“Jade.”

“Yes?”

“Back in the lounge…. You….”

“Yes, indeed. I said the same thing then as well.”

“Then you… Are you saying- that you… Did you just…”

No longer looking at the sky, he turns his head to give you his full undivided attention, waiting for you patiently to make your conclusion. Still refusing to look him in the eyes, you droop your head lower just a little as you feel yourself getting smaller in his arm. Bringing your hands together, your fingers start to fiddle with each limb and cloth it can find near its reach, usually playing around with the hem of your uniform under the blanket of your jacket.

Slightly opening your mouth, your brows furrow and you swear you can feel your knees go slightly weak if not for the support of his arm grounding you. “I…”

This man is playing with me right now.

Without even having to look, you can just feel his eyes on you. Finally reverting back to your more casual self, you shake your head with a sigh feeling more calm. “Hah, okay Jade I love you too.”

“My, what a bold confession there.”

“At least I didn’t confess indirectly.”Finally looking up at him, you give him a bit of sass as you roll your eyes and a chuckle escapes his lips. His grip becomes slightly more firm and if you were to lean on his chest, you can swear that his heart was beating just as loudly as yours.

“You’re finally looking at me, my dear Pearl.” His eyes soften as you look into his olive and golden eyes, his voice laced with such affection that it makes your body feel tingling with how much warmth it held despite the cold air. “Pearl…” Slowly repeating what he said quietly, letting the words sink in further more, your eyes widen and a slight sparkle glosses over. His other hand comes over and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the softness it brings. “Yes, my Pearl.” Jade droops his head lower till your foreheads touch, releasing his hold on your shoulder to then cup the other side of your face. Your cheeks might just be comparable to that of a hand warmer, but you can't help it. Not when he’s being so tender like this. Not when he’s locking eyes with you while giving you the most love-stricken smile ever. Not when you two are so close. “The moon is very beautiful right Jade?” You softly lull out, the growing thoughts of him filling up your head space.

“Very, it really is beautiful.” A little giggle ushers out, a giddy smile and tender hands. A loving look and a fond voice. A dovey feeling and a pacing heart. There, on the side of the public pavement road, stood two lovebirds where the trees bristle through the wind and hide them both perfectly. “It’s very enchanting if I must add. The moon that is. In fact, its shape and glow is similar to one of a pearl. A very beautiful one indeed.”

Tilting your head a little closer, your foreheads staying connected as he continues to hold your face and your hands on his, his words only make you quirk a wider smile. “You know, you’re making my heart beat very fast right now you know that? If I die because of you, you’d be put behind bars.”

“Hmmmm, really now? And what makes you so sure I'd allow them to catch me so easily?”

“Why do I like you?”

“In fact you don’t. You professed you love me not too long ago.”

“You’re right, unfortunately. I do, in fact, love you Jade Leech.”

Months of preparation, months filled with longing, months filled with shadowed moves, months filled with perseverance and patience, Jade Leech has finally accomplished what he’s worked for in one swell swoop from you. A kiss to the lips from the person who he always loved from the sidelines, now here in his hold as they reciprocate his mutual feelings.

Can we stay in this moment forever?

Watching you with the way you close your eyes just to kiss him, can he just stay in this moment forever? Forever to see the way your lashes sprawl out, long enough for him to count each and every piece of hair. Forever to feel your lips against his, long enough to remember the sensation and feeling of your soft lips. Forever to engulf himself in your natural aroma, long enough to have a sense of peace when he smells your scent. With his eyes open, even in the kiss he can't help but to just close it. Not when someone so beautiful is right in front of him. The first to place a kiss and the first to draw back from it, you quickly turn back around and bury your face in your hands.

Ah, they're getting all shy now. I wish it would have lasted longer…

“Ohmyfuckinggodijustkissedhimmmmm!” Whilst squealing in your hands Jade comes over and wraps his arms around your hunched figure, fully embracing you as he starts to feel gushy himself and nuzzles his cheek on the crown of your head. A big goofy silly smile on his face.

“Oh what’s wrong my dear Pearl? You’re so red that it can rival Riddle's hair.”

“Hah, I wonder who’s causing such a symptom.” Removing your hands away from your face, you turn your head to meet Jade's beaming smile and red cheeks with your slight pouty and red face.

“I would gladly like to proclaim that I was the cause of such said symptoms.”

“Gosh why did I even-”

Turning his head closer to yours as he leans over your shoulder, his voice suddenly becomes low and serious. The way he can suddenly change the mood with his tone tickles your ear and sends chills down your spine in a good way. His arms around your figure hugging you securely like a vine wrapping itself against a gate.

“I want to be the only one to make you feel this way, to have you look this way, to have you react this way. I would gladly like to be the reason for it knowing your affections for me are genuine. Just for you, I’d love to be that reason.”

…

“Fufufu, oh? To think your face couldn’t get any more red. Look at you, oh how wrong I was~”

“Jade you little-!”

Turning around to engulf him in the same manner, you bury yourself in his chest. There you go, now you can confirm for real that his heart was indeed beating just as fast as yours. Standing still to hold each other in your arms, your red and burning face finding shelter in his bosom while he radiates a silly smile with red coated cheeks, you take the time to remember how things even came to be the way they are now. And as the two of you indulge each other, far off in Ramshackle dorm Grim is looking around to see if you’ve yet arrived.

Moving his king up now in front of yours, thinking you’d make no move, he’s caught off guard as you pick up your king and take his. After all his chess pieces have eaten yours, nothing left but your king stood hopeful for him to take. Yet what a surprise of events that your heart took in the final move. It was a checkmate, and in the palm of your hand you gently held his king close to your heart.

tag! - @thehollowwriter @pandaforcexd @officialdaydreamer00

I hope you guys enjoyed this read, sorry it took forever!

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #jade leech twst #jade leech x reader #jade leech fluff #twst jade #azul ashengrotto #leech twins #floyd leech #deuce spade #jack howl #ortho shroud #twst fluff #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland jade leech #jade leech x yuu #octavinelle

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shippyo · 6 months ago

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Question for life: What’s your relationship with Morpho?

[this ask will have my own lore related to Morpho hope ya all enjoy💖]

also,i think [this] soundtrack might fit🩷

Morpho...Yes, she is very special to me, she is my daughter, the first of all, I reborn her myself with my own hands,lemme tell you the story...

Before long,long ago in immemorial times, far from when it all began but close to the dawn of it, Morpho was another and a completely different being, a young girl from a world that feels lost even in my memory,that, somehow in a way that I have never known,fell to my dimension, wounded, confused, with living tears.

I remember that being when asked who I was and after I explained myself she told me

"Why have you been so cruel to me?"

That paralyzed me,i..i been cruel,it was the first i realized such thing that my whole existence is contradiction,i bring wonders yet suffering to all living beings,even if im not able to control what happens.

That poor being cried for every terrible misfortune that occurred in her life, abuse, wars, the fall of her world, she was still alive, of course, but she begged me not to return, not even to go to the afterlife and rest in peace, no, the pain that her tears brought was so breaking that she wanted to disappear from existence itself.

Obviously it's not something I wasn't going to do, I COULDN'T even if I can do it, it was unfair, it wasn't her fault that her life went so miserable to such disgrace thought in her mind came into it with no return to change it,she was lost, in exchange, I asked her permission to not go to such path, but rather be something new and somehow,she accepted, thinking that would end all.

In all honesty, at that moment I was not clear about the extent of my power, I knew that I had it and that I could do something outside of normal understanding for others but that pulse in me screamed for act different and so, I grabbed her face and my hands shone with intense light.

Without realizing it, the body disappeared when my palms closed, I felt fear for the first time thinking i destroyed her being, but I suddenly felt the flutter of a butterfly.

When I opened my hand, that butterfly that you all know so much came out and it didn't take long to complete its own metamorphosis as a new being.

The being before Morpho had disappeared, my power had a price to pay, in a way.

I don't know the reason but all those who are reborn from my hands forget in a certain way their old being, not as if it had never existed, they are not unconscious of what they experienced, but their souls feel pure,different and determined in wanting to defend life in being a new them, I feel them as an extension of me and they are condemned to a strange line where they cannot die for being so tied to me and yet even if she knew this she...

Looked at me happy, with a passion for living on her face that was not there before and thanked me for what I had done, although she felt sadness for her former self and her past,she now understood how beautiful it was to be there.

From there she named herself, "Morpho" and she felt indebted to me, although I did not want to,she insisted that to fight for me, defend, be the judge of beings of all those infinite dimensions, save others like who she was before, I do not like to feel that Im using her because I accepted her like some short of puppet, but even so, she has always seemed happy since then to serve me as a knight of life.

From then on, I was her mother and hundreds, billions like Morpho today are part of this family and I love them all equally.

Although...sometimes I wonder if I could use my power to reverse that strange "immortality" that ties them to me, I wish they could continue happy as they are now, but return to the mortality of life so that they finish their true cycle and not be attached to such tasks..I know I can and maybe one day I will have the courage to do it for the first time.

@kirbyoctournament

learn more of life lore [here!]

#shippysillyart #fanart #life propaganda #life oc #morpho knight #morpho butterfly #morpho knight kirby #kirby fanart #kirby series #kirby morpho knight #kirby oc (life)#kirby oc tournament propaganda #kirby oc tournament #kirby oc #kirby

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montimer · 9 days ago

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Joker x hero!reader

Him being ur number one fan (and ur his ;])

Reader in denial and bit dummy

(Could be any ver)

-Back in the hideout-

He jumped to the television when he heard your name. He left whatever he was focusing on, now sitting excitedly infront of the tv. Eager to see you, hear your voice.

An interviewer managed to get you to talk infront of cameras. 'If this is what you all want so bad..' you thought. 'Can't be that bad right?'

While she was introducing herself, his eyes never left your form. Ignoring her, he would get bored if you wouldn't be staring at the camera. "Silly you, you look adorable as always" he says.

"..and today here we are with (heroname)! Say how does it feel like to be one of Gotham's best hero?"

One of? Why they are number one! The best of all.

"Ahah, i wouldn't say that.."

Sweet, as you are always huh?

He kept on watching the show. He focused on every word you said, deeply acknowledging them. Getting worked up whenever the interviewer said something that he didn't like, speaking out loud, correcting her. Talking to no one but the box infront of him.

But one specific question made him go quiet.

"There's this one villain that seems to be very attached to you. You know who im talking about don't you?" The question made you wordless. 'Why yes he sure has been acting weird with you, but its not like that..right?' You tried to calm your nerves. After an awkward second you answered.

"Uh, yeah? Who might that be?" 'Just act dumb, just act dumb'

"The clown prince of crime of course, haven't you noticed?"

You chuckled awkwardly. You kinda felt this coming

"Soo, what do you think of such criminal? C'mon the world wants to know!" She asked you half begging.

Your mind begin to race through options.

'If i say nice things about him, they'll think im on his side, but if i don't, he might get mad' but why do you care? Do you happen to-?

"(Heroname)?"

Oh oh right, answers

"Well uh, well- he's sure is hard to deal with,,but ya know at the end of the day justice always wins!..well expect those few times he got away.."

"Hmm interesting but i'd like to hear more of a, personal opinion"

You tried your best to stay formal, now what? They say honesty is one way of heroism

"Hmm, i'd say he's a genius, just think of the things he builds, the toxin he makes. He's also pretty funny, i mean when he's not hurting others of course! What i ment was..his jokes are great. You gotta have lots of creativity to tell a joke. He's quite a looker too, his costume is nice and all..mmm was that personal?"

The interviewer looked both surprised and amused.

"Yes, that was definitely personal!" She said excitedly.

The amount of eyes made you even more nervous than before. You tried not to face palm. Instead you excused yourself, waved at the camera and flight away.

The interview came to an end.

'Gosh i just hope he wasn't watching' oh but he was, every single second

And there in the hideout he stared at the empty screen. Unmoving, processing slowly what you said.

Hey what did you blurt out just now? Genius,funny,handsome?

He begin to smile wide. Jumping up and down laughing excitedly. Acting like some teenage girl having a crush on a celebrity.

He knew it! You loved him just as much as he loved you! And here he was worrying you were gonna say something mean. Nonsense, why of course with his genius mind-as you said- he could figure it out in a snap of a finger!

He went to pick up the little plushy of you, cuddling up to it. He had every piece of merch he could get his hands on.(and photos he took of you while you weren't looking)

He usually steals them from local shops, and sometimes feeling jealousy upon seeing people cuddle up to the tiny form of you, he burns the rest. No one can touch whats his! He's sure they understand (incase they don't they should know whats coming to them)

In his mind its special and only he can have it, after all he is your biggest fan.

#joker #the joker #joker x reader #the joker x reader #the joker x gn reader #joker x gn reader #animated joker #btas joker x reader #tnba joker x reader #2004 joker x reader

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mybrainisslowlyboiling · 1 month ago

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Harker headcanons 👹👹

And my own words come back to haunt me once again.

But here you go!

Yaelokre • Harker Headcannons

I believe The Croon and The Bellringer would be the best at caring for children (in that the Croon would theoretically be good at it but wouldn't really care enough about anyone who wasn't Perrine).

The Bellringer would be very caring and loving and gentle but would 100% pull a Rose from Steven Universe and let a baby climb a ferris wheel "because they wanted to".

The Croon, on the other hand, is very apathetic and abrasive, but believe it or not, a good listener. They would definitely sit and listen to a child's ramblings with rapt attention.

They would also probably be the only Harker to ya know, know well enough to not let a child die. (In my mind the Harkers fall into the foolish god trope where they know NOTHING of mortality and humans and it's very funny).

TLDR: Need a babysitter? Don't call the Harkers. Your child is NOT surviving.

Call the Lark, they'd probably also let your baby climb a ferris wheel but they have the plot armor to get away with it.

The Harkers will just randomly show up at the Lark's home and just hang around for the day, and I mean that quite literally. They'll just show up and follow around their specific ward for a while.

(In all honesty, they love them so much they have to refrain from showing up too often, as they are convinced being around too much will cause the Lark to grow reliant and branch off from one another and disrupt The Order.)

Cole and Clém are always very excited when Story and Yarrow show up. They'll play games with them whilst showing them cool things they've found and relaying stories of their recent adventures.

Perrine views The Croons arrival as some sort of doomsday warning and will start freaking out internally. (cue Grunkle Stan stocking up on canned food and telling everyone to bury their gold).

Most of the time The Croon will visit its really just to see what Perrine's up to, but it's not really Perrine's fault for being scared either. As instead of just showing up in their house one morning to say hello like Story and Yarrow, Perrine will just wake up one morning and look out their window to find The Croon just staring at them from across a field, or poking their head out from in-between trees.

Bro is NOT here for social interaction. They just wanna see how their little scrumbly is doing.

Everytime Kingsley wakes up to find the fucking Storyteller standing in their kitchen or something they get a little salty.

"Bro, what are you even DOING here?"

(This one is mostly a joke in actuality, Kingsley loves each Harker equally and swears that they are here to bless Kingsley themselves personally every time one visits even if it has NOTHING to do with them)

The only time the Enkindled really comes by is during group efforts when even The Croon is forced to socialize (much to their dismay, the croon doesn't care about any of these other mistakes they call children), that or if Kingsley was in some kind of distress or impending danger.

Kindle is the most protective over their ward (in terms of honor anyway)

"You CANNOT speak of my ward like that!"

"When's the last time you've even SEEN THEM?!"

The Croon isn't as juvenilely defensive of Perrine in conversation but will kill every other organism in the galaxy and lay them at Perrine's feet without even being prompted.

Kindle and The Croon believe they are each the most normal of the Harkers respectively. Cause how could it possibly be The Storyteller or The Bellringer? Those disgusting lovebirds going on picnic dates in fields of flowers and collecting little rocks and trinkets to give to the children. It's an abomination.

I dont quite know how this would work or why, but I believe the Harkers have some kind of spiritual connection with each of their respective Larks. They can sense when they're in danger or scared or in pain, or even when they're overwhelmingly happy.

I imagine any time any of them feel some type of emotion from their lark, all they want to do is go to them. But, oh no, the nonexistent Order.

"They'll work it out themselves and become stronger for it"

*Cue Cole fucking drowning in quicksand or something*

The Croon does not abide by The Order, they are overly attached and won't admit it.

Kindle has the opposite problem.

Croon: Aren't you going to check on your ward?

Kindle: Nah, they're tough, they'll figure it out.

Yarrow: With all due respect we all have an overwhelming sense of dread and death, you should see to that they're alright.

Kindle: Hey, I said they'll be- *gets knocked out and dragged*

As much as The Croon does not care about Kingsley, they hate the idea of the Enkindled not doing their job even more.

I also imagine this as The Harker's just going about their day. Yarrow and Story will be on a nice walk and then all of a sudden Story just fucking collapses to the ground. Yarrow is so confused and only mildy worried meanwhile Cole's having a panic attack and is convinced the world is ending.

Like Clémentine, Yarrow can be quite affectionate.

When they come by, they'll pull Clém into their lap as they talk to them and kiss the top of their head.

This would be very sweet, if only Story hadn't seen and decided they wanted to do the same.

Story is just a silly little guy who loves all these silly little children, and is oblivious to their silly little acts, not quite having the desired effect.

To put it simply... an act once perceived as so sweet is actually rather jarring coming from the silly little hay man.

Story: *picks each child up whilst squeezing them aggressively and placing kisses on the crowns of their heads.*

Cole: *bewildered and dazed*

Kingsley: *now has hay stuck in their hair*

Perrine: ....thanks..

Bonus from the last headcannons post: The Storyteller with children:

#i do not know what to do with the enkindled #can you tell?#yaelokre #cole yaelokre #clémentine yaelokre #perrine yaelokre #the storyteller #kingsley yaelokre #meadowlark #the croon #the enkindled #the bellringer #yarrow the bellringer #yaelokre headcanons

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yeyinde · 1 year ago

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Just saw a TikTok where a kid send their favorite stuff animal to his dad who's deployed. Just imagine this happening with 141 🥺 (I'm actually sending this to my favorite writers hoping I can get a cute scenario 😅)

I admire your honesty lmao. So. Here ya go:

—Gen. Reader (but tbh, *you're* a very minor part of this). Child is not named or gendered, either, and can easily be read as adopted instead of bio (with cheeky little hints geared toward this). Fluff(ish).

—I'm not really sure if this constitutes as cute but I wanted to try and write something that was extremely vague but also incredibly...not vague. Transparent, almost. This is that. A thought experiment. Enjoy.

On the surface, the package isn't anything special. Nondescript beige. Square. It's a bit beat up from its journey, bruised and dented like most boxes shipped halfway across the world tend to be, and much too light to be a care pack.

He sits in his assigned cot with a heavy sigh that creaks through aching bones and tender muscles, eyes already half mast from a day staring at sand dunes and trying to divine answers in gunpowder, reading bullets like tea leaves. Sleep isn't beckoning, it's screaming. Howling loud in his ears and knocking all his thoughts asunder.

He has half a mind to tuck the box aside, lay down with his boots still on, and sleep until it doesn't make his head split at the seams to keep his eyes open. It's needed, too. They head out tomorrow. Sure, firm, and bound in brass. An unavoidable calamity as they chase shadows with grasping hands, fingers always a hair too short to reach. He might, yet, he thinks, but the box is nearly weightless in his hands, and despite its featherlight heft in his lap, it calls to him.

If he waits, it'll never leave the sanctity of this safe house. It'll get lost in the shuffle. In the tumult tomorrow morning, a breath before dawn, will surely bring.

So, he opens it.

Clumsy fingers, numbed from curling around the butt of a gun all day, paw at the tape until it unravels in a messy cluster, sticking to the palm of his hand. He presses it to the side before slipping his fingers through the flaps.

It might be a letter asking for a divorce. He thinks about laughing, maybe, but the humour is bereft of reprieve.

You'd hit him, he thinks. Smack him upside the head for the very thought.

(Maybe dislodge the monsters in there, too.)

But when he peels back the lips, and peers inside, it isn't a letter. It's a bear.

Pocket sized, he remembers saying. A negotiation tactic in the middle of a toy aisle to keep the tears from flooding over a glistening lash line. It was as effective as he expected it to be, but the compromise, however shaky, was reinforced with the promise of McDonald's if they didn't cause a scene in the middle of the shops. Sniffles meet his ears still, but they slow, considering the offer. Head tilts adorably to the side (ladies in the aisle over coo). Then, sticky, wet fingers slapped his palm. Deal made. Done.

Done.

The bartering tool—a subpar toy for less than twenty dollars in lieu of a roaring dinosaur that was nearly seventy (Jesus fuckin' Christ)—becomes a reluctant ally against a set of imagined enemies, and then trusted friend. A companion, one carried everywhere—the bath, school, bed—and its loved state is shown through its disarray. Carried in patches of scant fur, in a nose that lost its glossy shine from too many kisses at night and in the morning, and just because ("because he's cute and he needs a kiss!"), and from rips and tears, and clumped cotton when it was hung to dry lopsidedly after spending a day at the beach. It's in the missing button on the little dungarees it wears, and the loose threads that split the seams.

It's just a bear, but—

"If anything happens to Mr Bear, I will die, dad!"

Little feet pounding the pavement, frantically searching for the fallen friend who slipped from the basket after a walk to the park. Eyes wide, wild, and filled with tears. Head swivelling in all directions.

"Why will you die, exactly?" He hedges, brows drawing taut. He's not versed in this well enough to know if this is alarming yet. Maybe. He thinks it might be, has a nagging suspicion that it is, but you offer a shrug in response, and he's calmed a bit by your nonreaction. Normal, then, he thinks, and turns back the way they came, peering at the grass for any signs of an ugly little bear.

"Because!" It's snapped in that waspish huff only children can muster—the one that says, duh! despite the absurdity of it all. "We share a heart. That's what mum says. And if a cat got him and he's all chewed up, and—"

You have the wherewithal to be a little bit sheepish when he turns to you, mouthing the words back.

"It was—," you start, shrugging. A touch embarrassed. A little flustered. It suits you, he finds. You wear it like an endearing garment. "It was just a joke, but kids take everything so literally, and so now—"

"Mind, body, heart, and soul!"

More little stomps. A pout forms. Wobbles. He bends down before the tears fall, gentle as he thinks he can be (and gentler some, because if parenthood has taught him anything, it's that his patience for a little being that picked him, that looked at him and said, you, you, you; I want you, is infinite) he places his hands on trembling shoulders, and tries to soothe the pain that etches in glossy eyes. Hand bearish and uncertain, but quivering from holding back, from offering nothing in this moment except liquid adoration and unfettered devotion. He feels it writ across the lines in his face.

"It's alright," he gruffs, and then hides a wince when the boney, fragile shoulders beneath his hands tense, shake. Soft as smoke, he adds: "we'll find the bastard—"

"Ahem!"

"—the bear."

A sniffle. "His name is Mister Bear and I love him to the moon and back."

It melts him in ways he never expected. Unthaws tundric parts of himself he thought were lost to permafrost; empty and void of life. It cracks, shatters. He moves, tugging the little body wracked with sobs tight to his chest as if he means to tuck them between his rib cage where they'll stay, a little bird safe and sound and untouched by the uglier parts of the world that wants to maim and hurt. Gentle shushes fall from his lips. Clumsy affection he doesn't know how to give but will learn if it means he can whisper the same words—to the moon and back—until his throat rots and his words turn to ash. Until his bones are brittle and weary, and the earth reclaims his life.

He says them, then, stilted and unsure, but firm. Heavy.

"Love you, little bird," he rasps, lips pressing tight to a plump cheek. "Now let's find that Bastar—" ahem! "—bear. That bear. Okay?"

The bastard was in a pile of rubbish by the side of the road. His ear was lost to the many washes he went through to rid the stench of trash and cat piss from his fur.

You'd scrubbed the bear in the sink before, it's little dungarees hung up to dry in the garden. He startled you, then, when his hands wrapped around your middle, tugging you tight to his chest. Your ring caught, cutting a clean stripe through the one beady it had left.

He paid it little mind at the time, too busy nipping the nape of your neck as you offered weak protests that fell apart when you arched into him. Pretty and wanting.

"Maybe another?" He'd rasped into your ear, eyes drifting down to the ugly, sodden bear in the sink. "Call up the stork and have one delivered tomorrow, mm?"

"You're ridiculous," you huffed but it wasn't no.

And it wasn't meant to be, either. He was called away three days later, the words murmured out while you stitched up the misshapen mess of a teddy bear in the living room. Patient to a fault, you'd simply smiled at him, taut and painful around the edges, and said, be safe.

The announcement of his departure wasn't nearly as smooth, though. A tantrum, fraught with heavy sobs and howled no's seemed to threaten to topple the house down over them all.

But you'd spoken words he couldn't hear, and moon-shaped eyes turned to him, fogged over with tears. There was acceptance buried in the webbing nebula, but it was shaky. Tenuous.

Childish hands hold him tight before he leaves. "Mr Bear always keeps me safe.

The sentiment was overlooked at the time. A passing murmur that was lost in the shuffle of packing, leaving. Kisses and whispered worries in the middle of the night.

But he thinks about it now, and tries not to laugh.

At the bottom of the box is a note. He'll keep you safe, too! Love you to the moon and back.

He tucks the bear into his breast pocket where it'll be the safest on this journey, and wonders what you thought about the whole mess. It makes his lips curl.

Halfway across the world, and they still make him smile.

#feels like im reinforcing bad behaviour #but #ahhhh well #no names are used in this #captain john price x reader #john price x reader

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avelera · 2 years ago

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"I read it to find out what the fuss was about, and remained somewhat puzzled; it seemed a lively kid’s fantasy crossed with a school novel, good fare for its age group, but stylistically ordinary, imaginatively derivative, and ethically rather mean-spirited."

- Ursula K. Le Guin

It's been understandably popular to take pot-shots at Harry Potter lately because of JK Rowling's truly disgusting and reprehensible comments lately. This quote above by Le Guin, which I agreed with even while a teenager, got me thinking about my own views on the series and apropos to nothing, I felt this was a better place to expound upon them than Twitter.

I have a knee-jerk dislike of the very human condition of saying we, "Always knew something," after the fact, that we "Always knew" someone problematic™️ was problematic or we always knew this thing that was popular was Bad Art after it became less popular. I find it intellectually dishonest.

So I'll preface all of this by saying: I had minor issues with the Harry Potter series back when it came out that went against the mainstream view of it, in that I thought it had many good qualities as a book series, but not enough to warrant its popularity compared to other, similar YA and fantasy series. I was genuinely baffled by its superstar popularity but as a fantasy book reader in the days before it was easy to access online fandom, I would take what I could get and I certainly didn't mind fangirling about Harry Potter stuff with friends even if it wasn't my #1 favorite series of all time. I enjoyed the fanfic for Harry Potter immensely so that allowed me to sort of blend in with those who enjoyed its popularity. (Special shoutout to MY favorite Harry Potter book of all time, "Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills" by Jocelyn over on fanfiction.net, that was MY Harry Potter series lol.)

So here's the thing, it's easy to say, "I always hated Harry Potter" or "I always knew it was trash" and that's a lie. For me, the truth is:

I enjoyed Harry Potter much like I did many of the fantasy series of its day.

What they had going for them was their pacing, whimsy, and inherent mystery structure in the first 3 books. They're fast, fun, easy reads with a likable protagonist. They are not bad books. But as Le Guin says, they're stylistically ordinary and imaginatively derivative. There's a lot of books like them.

I did not think the books were better than Pratchett, or Gaiman, or Garth Nix, or Dianne Wynn Jones, or any of the many other fantasy authors I was reading at the time. I was confused by their popularity as compared to better books like Pratchett's Discworld which, while popular, never got a theme park made for them in terms of order of magnitude popularity.

Now, JK Rowling on the other hand I had some issues with from the start, if not the ones that emerged later with her being a bigot. It is worth mentioning for the sake of intellectual honesty that decades ago, she gave a lot to charity and was a voice for tolerance in the early 00's when Bush/Blair, the Iraq War, etc were in full swing. It makes it all the more heartbreaking and baffling to see her swing towards bigotry on LGBT+ issues. Truly, a lot of young people first learned to stand up to fascism and be accepting of those different from them because of Harry Potter, just like they did reading the Ender's Game series by Orson Scott Card, and in both cases it's absolutely heartbreaking and so very confusing to see these authors fall to the very dark side they wrote against in their books. I have no answer for how or why this happened. I don't say this to make an excuse for either of them, simply to express confusion and mourn the loss of someone who was once a voice for some level of good in the world.

Now, my issues with JK Rowling were writerly, and they are the ones I feel somewhat empowered to say I "always knew" and "always had an issue with" and that, like the worst sort of hipster, "I talked about before it was cool".

Really my dislike began when JKR very famously said in the early 00s that she didn't read any fantasy before writing Harry Potter. Considering how derivative it is (heck, Neil Gaiman already had a YA series about a black-haired wizard boy with a scar) it left one wondering if she was lying or she truly was that ignorant in the genre in which she wrote. Either way, not a good look, and it soured me towards her pretty permanently as an author.

Terry Pratchett, the author I would actually follow into Hell, criticized her for this comment and got a lot of flack for it, asking how in the world she could not realize she was writing fantasy. This solidified my opinion of her as something of a hack, even if she had stumbled upon a winning story. Neil Gaiman also chimed in saying he didn't feel ripped off but seemed to tacitly agree with Pratchett that her lack of institutional knowledge about fantasy was odd.

As a big fantasy fan of the early 00s, I can say that fantasy was still a bit of a forbidden genre (at least in the Anglosphere), one not taken seriously. So for JK Rowling to be asked if she wrote fantasy had a layer of nuance, basically she was being asked if she meant to write a fantasy novel, ie, in a "lesser" genre, barely above dime story penny dreadfuls in value.

No one literary would admit to writing fantasy at the time, it was a whole thing where if you admitted to writing fantasy you were "downgraded" as an author in terms of prestige (Stephen King went through a lot of this). BUT, if a fantasy book achieved popularity, it was labeled as "literary" so the literary folks could claim ownership of the quality genre fiction, and never have to admit that "literary" is a genre and not a mark of quality (a deep-seated rage button issue for me and a rant for another day).

So when JK Rowling said, "She didn't know she was writing fantasy." That meant something. And what it meant was she was throwing the rest of the genre under the damn bus. With her visibility she could have helped actively tear down the biases against fantasy (something she did indirectly with the popularity of her books). Or she could have simply had humility and said she wasn't as versed in the genre as she should be given where her book ended up being shelved, but there's a lot of good works there and she's honored to be among them.

She did neither. She stuck to her ignorance (what would become a common trait of hers, apparently) and did very little to elevate others in the genre, or the genre itself, and indeed, seemed to try to distance herself from it in what was the safe move at the time.

I cannot stress enough how intellectual dishonest, arrogant, and safe it was for popular writers who got dubbed "literary" when they were in fact writing genre fiction to cleave to that title of literary, guard it jealously, and refuse to acknowledge that literary is a genre of its own, not a mark of quality. To be labeled "genre fiction" was to be considered "lesser" and that stigma is still out there, though much lessened by the wave that began with the Lord of the Rings movies, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, and the Marvel films making so much money and really setting up genre fiction to at least be seen as lucrative if not artistic. We have come a long way from how fantasy was viewed 20 years ago.

JK Rowling also said she wrote no other books before Harry Potter. That's another puzzling instance where either she's lying, sold her soul to the Devil (and hey, maybe she did and he's collecting by making her turn into a frothing bigot), or was simply a more lucky and less skilled writer than people realized. Every writer has a closet full of short stories and novels they've written before publishing their first work. I can't stress enough how bizarre it is for her to claim she never wrote anything else before putting pen to paper with Harry Potter, that simply does not happen. Then again, her later books make it seem more likely that is true.

Writerly aside, but JK Rowling is utter garbage at structure. She lucked into the perfect scaffolding for a basic plot with the Harry Potter school year, but as Fantastic Beasts and her other, non-school based plot structures reveal, she didn't realize what a crutch that was for her because the woman does not and has not learned how to build a plot that isn't strung up on the structure of a school year for building tension and story beats.

Look, JK Rowling has always been a weird author. She really did come out of nowhere in terms of previous works. She doesn't acknowledge her peers in the genre that built her fortune, not even to confess that while she didn't know about them, she's now learning about a wonderful rich genre out there. She went the other direction and disavowed fantasy (it's possible she backtracked since and had nice things to say about the fantasy genre, I'd love to hear it if so).

There was in fact always subtle bigotry and a ton of tokenism in the Harry Potter books. That said, in the 90s, that was pretty par for the course, and she deserved some kudos for making the books so explicitly about fighting fascism, even if I'm not sure she fully understood her own themes.

To say these books were unpopular or that they had no writerly merit at all is intellectually dishonest. They were popular for a reason, mostly because they're fun. However, they were not unique, there were many like them, she got very lucky and it's bizarre how little she's acknowledged this or her peers. Of all the negative tendencies any human has, I'm shocked and dismayed that her tendency to stick to her ignorance like she did with the wider fantasy genre is the one that won out and was transferred to LGBT+ issues, to the point of doing active damage to her works and brand. But as her attempts to branch out from Harry Potter have further confirmed, JK Rowling was always a stylistically ordinary writer. Her mean-spiritedness didn't stand out as much in the 90s but it absolutely does now and it's ugly how she leaned more into sticking with the moral heights she reached at that time rather than trying to learn and grow as a person.

JK Rowling went full Whedon and figured because she was slightly ahead of the curve in the late 90s that she had nothing more to learn and it hurts when people who are creative, people whose job it is to have empathy for other walks of life, never learn or grow and stick to their old laurels that are increasingly out of date. I personally don't think myself as a hardcore Harry Potter fan, I have no horse in this race for the redemption or lack thereof of JK Rowling or the book series. I can only offer my view as a fantasy writer and someone who grew up through the cultural phenomenon of these books.

But, as usual, Ursula Le Guin was right, I agreed with her then, and her words have only borne out more and more with time.

#jk rowling critical #hp meta #hp critical

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purplemarshal · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty Boy

Bruv, I am sleeping over at a friends house tonight, and I pulled this out of my ass. Legit 967 words, the last one was over 700 and I told myself that I didn't want to go more than that but here we are.

T.W. Angst , swearing, and Scream.

Donnie P.O.V.

As the night drew on, my family gradually retreated to their rooms. Starting with Splinter, we don’t know when he left, but he did. Next was Leo, she was worried about how everyone would act tomorrow and convinced Mikey to also go around 10pm. Raph stayed until 12ish.

Leaving me with the one and only Casey Jones.

The only light in the lair was the T.V. playing some horror movie that we had seen several times already, in all honesty I think that Casey fell asleep awhile ago from how still and quiet he was.

“So, you got a boyfriend?”

“Why? You wanna ask me out?”

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

I sigh, no matter how many times I see this movie I can’t get over the fact that she lied about not having a boyfriend and then he got killed like, instantly.

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.”

“What did you say?”

“I want to know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I said?”

Click.

The room turned pitch black as the only source of light went out, so did the sounds of the 1996 horror movie, leaving me with the dripping water and sounds of cars above ground.

“Casey?” I whispered harshly only to get a small “hm” in response.

“Dumb ass, get up, I think someone cut the power or something.” I nudged the lump of blankets as I stood up, my knees popping from sitting on the floor for so long. Casey however didn’t make any attempts to move.

So I figured that it would be alright if I took things into my own hands, literally picking him up and placing him in front of me. Only for him to hit the ground with a loud thump.

“Dee?” He muttered, sleep still apparent in his voice. “Wait, why is it so dark?”

I heard him shuffle from his blankets that stayed on top of him even on the floor.

“Something happened to the power.” I explained as Casey stood up fully, “we need to find out what’s up with it.”

The human snickered, “got too scared to go alone huh Don? Needed big ol’ Casey Jones to help ya?”

He reached his arm forward a few times before it made contact with me, when it did he pulled the rest of himself to close the gap, leaning most of his weight on me. His hands were soft. How did he keep his hands so soft? He went on patrol and trained with us while still juggling hockey and basically caring for his little sister.

“Riiight.” I said sarcastically. I had forgotten how he asks when tired, extra. Extra everything. “Let’s get to my lab, then we should be able to see what’s up.” I started walking with my muscle memory guiding the two of us to the place that I spent most of my time.

The door slightly creaked as I pushed it open, I smiled at the familiar smell of my lab. Luckily some of my projects offered an ethereal light to the room and its belongings. Not so luckily however, there was a thin layer of smoke that surrounded the desk with all of my chemicals.

“Sorry Casey, I’ve been working on this project for a few days and-” I looked at the limp boy still wrapped around me. “-And you're asleep. Wonderful. Idiot.” I whispered as I set him down in one of my spare chairs before walking away to go to the breaker.

A few minutes passed with me trying to figure out what was going on before the almost silence was broken.

“Do you really mean it?” Casey’s voice was still exhausted, but now there was something else in it. It sounded raw and harsh, but there was still something softer than normal.

“Idiot, you will have to be more specific.”

“That.” His voice broke. “Do you really think that I’m an idiot?”

I looked in his direction, his face looked softer through the smoke even if it was now red and his eyes were puffy.

“Jones.”

“I don’t mean it whenever I say it, you're really smart and strong and, and-” His voice broke as the unwelcomed tears started flowing. “Do you remember what I said the other day?” A sniff. “During patrol?” He sounded hopeless, told you he was extra when he was tired.

I took a deep breath as I walked closer but stopped to take a sip of coffee that I had left out earlier, it was cold now but still tasted good enough.

“Casey, I think you should go back to sleep.”

“Donnie.” He begged.

My body moved on its own and pulled him into a hug, of which he accepted immediately, holding me tight and stuffing his face into the crook of my neck as he continued to cry. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

The teen kept crying as I started to run my fingers through his hair, but slowed down as I started the sing. I knew he liked the song but I didn't have the words memorized so I mainly mumbled it.

Leo used to do this for me, but lately she didn’t have the time.

His breathing slowed and I realized he had fallen back asleep. I wanted to get off of the chair to leave him alone but his arms remained tight on me. So, rather than bothering Casey I opted to stay with him, for his comfort of course! Not because he was warm, and I didn’t have enough strength to get up. Of course not.

God, I hate Pretty boys.

Like I said, I pulled this out of my ass at 10pm last night, my laptop was like 9% and we were watching Be Cool Scooby Doo. Still hope you enjoyed it, there will be even spookier chapters soon. Excpect a short chapter next though.

#casey jones #caseytello #donatello #jonatello #named after songs #tmnt 2012 #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt mikey 2012 #tmnt donnie 2012

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sugartitstownley · 10 months ago

Note

Hay I love your blog!!!

Could you do some relationship preferences for michael and trevor being together cute/hot or just cute?

ABC’s of Trikey

Thanks for the ask! I’m glad you like my blog!! I took some creative liberties with this and ran with it since I’ve been wanting to do the ABC prompt. So I hope you don’t mind. :) I did the fluff version [source], but I’d be open to doing the NSFW version too if someone would want that.

Warnings: Not a lot this time. Typical GTA-esque themes. There is a brief mention in the last letter (Z) about child abuse, but that’s about it. Mostly fluffy stuff.

A is for animals [Do they have pets? What type?]

No, they don’t have any pets. Neither of them feel too strongly about having them, but the topic has came up once or twice — Michael being the most reluctant.

“It’d be like having another kid,” Michael gripes. “We’d have to clean its shit and make sure it doesn’t tear the house up.”

“But maybe it could teach you a thing or two about loyalty, you snake,” Trevor shoots back. “Plus, it’d give Chop a friend.”

“Can you honesty promise I wouldn’t come home one day to a mutilated dog after it chewed the fuck out of your clothes or bit you?”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t mutilate you one day, but I still keep you around.”

That didn’t convince Michael. So no, they don’t have pets. They’ll stick to chaperoned visits with Franklin, Lamar, and Chop.

B is for bathroom [What are their bathroom habits? Do they brush teeth at the same time? Fight about the toilet? Shower together? Have weird toiletries?]

Their bathroom habits are definitely a little bit opposing. Michael, unless he’s in one of his truly depressive episodes, is fairly clean. He often opts for the same routine every day: wake up, shower, shave (unless he’s growing it out, which sometimes he does), brush teeth, put on deodorant, spray on fancy cologne he spent way too much on, and leave.

Trevor, however, has less of a set schedule. He frequently chooses to forgo the traditional approach to “getting ready” unless Michael gets on him about it.

Once they start living together, though, Trevor does start to actively seek out a good shower quite often — if only so he can join his partner in a little morning rendezvous, which, of course, Michael is happy to indulge him in.

They don’t fight too much over bathroom etiquette, but, well, Trevor is still Trevor, so it’s inevitable sometimes.

“Oh, the fuck is this?” Michael mumbles, peering into the toilet below him. “Trevor!”

Mere seconds later, Trevor’s head is popping through the bathroom door. “Mm, morning to you too, sugar.”

“Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“That,” Trevor follows his partner’s gaze to look inside the toilet bowl, “looks like a finger.”

“Yep, it does,” Michael nods along. “Why the fuck is it in our toilet?”

Trevor raises his hands in surrender. “Excuse me, I tried to get his arm down in one go, but people don’t flush like they used to. Ya know, I think it’s all the healthy shit people eat in LS. Makes their body more immune.”

“Jesus Christ.”

C is for children [Do they have kids? Adopted or biological? What are their names? Any random head canons you have?]

Michael obviously has Tracey and Jimmy, so that’s really enough for them. Michael knows he’s already a shit father, so there’s no need to bring any more children into his world. Plus, Trevor loves both of those kids like they’re his own anyway.

And, all things considered, they both have Franklin too. Their surrogate child. Sure, Franklin pretends to be slightly disturbed at that mental image, but both men are sure he’s still happy to have them around.

Sometimes, when he’s really trying to embarrass Franklin, Trevor will talk about him to strangers like he’s their child. Michael tries to get him to stop — for the youngest boy’s sake — but he secretly finds it both endearing and funny. So, against his better judgement, Michael joins in sometimes.

“Kids are a handful, huh?”

The woman looks up from the screaming baby in her arms to Trevor, who’s talking over her shoulder. She looks slightly uncomfortable at his proximity, like she wants to push away the cart full of baby items in front of her and make a run for it, but she nods instead.

“They sure are. Got any?”

Trevor mirrors her nod before pointing over at Franklin. “Our baby boy is right there.”

Trevor can see Franklin shrink behind Michael, trying to get out of sight, while Michael stands there smirking.

“He’s just precious,” Trevor continues, his voice cracking with a faux sob. “They grow up so fast. Right in front of your eyes.”

The woman glances at Michael, almost like she’s hoping he’ll save her, but he only puts a hand to his heart and smiles. “They never stop melting your heart, though.”

As soon as the cashier yells “next,” the woman is rushing to the counter, and the two older men are left laughing as Franklin finally moves into sight.

“Fuck you both,” he grumbles.

D is for dates [First date? Do they go out together regularly? Who usually plans?]

Their first date was definitely weird. Not in the “we shouldn’t be doing this” way. But in the “this feels like our first date and 50th simultaneously” way.

Back in North Yankton, neither of them really went on “first dates” — with each other or other people. A date feels more like a planned time to be romantic, but their relationship was anything but planned. In fact, everything often felt rushed and spontaneous, like neither knew when their life would suddenly end by imprisonment or death.

Now, as older men who feel way too past their prime and have way too much history among them to be going out on said “first dates,” the idea feels a little juvenile and silly.

Nonetheless, they do it. They do it if only for the sake of not being able to do it before. They go out on a first date — paired with nervous sweating, awkward conversations, and careful skirting over any past issues that could put a damper on the evening. It’s a simple dinner at an upscale restaurant in Vinewood, much to Trevor’s initial dismay.

“Out of all of San Andreas, this is where you pick, Mikey?”

“It’s a nice place, T.”

“Shocker that you think that, Mr. Plastic Pants,” Trevor says mockingly. “This place is full of fake celebrities and plastic surgeons. I feel like I’m about to slip and fall and accidentally get a boob job.”

“Can you just humor me for once? Please?”

And Trevor did because, truth be told, he’d go anywhere with Michael. Their first date was good all things considered, but they don’t make it a habit to go out often. It’s just not in their style — unless you count Trevor beating Michael at golf or them chasing down bikers a date, then sure.

When they do officially go out on dates, especially for important dates like anniversaries, it’s usually Michael who plans them. He’s much more of a classic date — dinner and a movie — kind of guy. He likely gets that from the movies he watches.

E is for embarrassment [Does one get embarrassed by PDA? Do they say things to rile each other up?]

Michael does, at times, get embarrassed by Trevor’s public displays. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Trevor; it’s just harder to kick that religious guilt he’s used to. It has caused a rift a few times when Michael would flinch at Trevor calling him “baby” around strangers or throwing his arms around him and kissing his neck — especially since Michael can see their unapproving reactions in his peripheral vision.

Trevor, usually, reacts angrily — no doubt believing that his partner is embarrassed by him and their relationship. But Michael continues to reassure him until the issue is dropped.

After a few years, and a bit more therapy, the judging glances no longer irk him like they used to. And, as a result, he’ll let Trevor’s fingers snake through his or let his touch linger, even with the prying eyes of Los Santos City.

When they’re in an argument, however, Trevor does take a few liberties now and then to rile him up.

“Fine, Burger Shot it is. But when we get home, I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, Christ,” Michael groans, looking around to see how many people heard Trevor’s loud mouth.

Trevor grins. “Hopefully, I’ll be saying that soon too.”

F is for fights [Do they bicker a lot? About trivial things? How do they make up after a large fight?]

They bicker a lot. About trivial things. About important things. About everything. But that’s them. It’s how it’s always been, and just because they’re in love, doesn’t mean it’s going to stop.

But, at least for Michael, he almost enjoys fighting with Trevor. Fighting with him only reminds him how much he’s devoted to the guy — how much he devastatingly loves the man.

With Amanda, they loved each other, but they weren’t in love with each other. So when they fought, it left him feeling bitter and lonely. But with Trevor, every fight is born out of caring about his relationship, about Trevor’s health, about their past, about their future. He just cares so violently — both of them do — that every fight starts and ends with him being in love. At least, for the most part.

G is for gifts [Do they give gifts often? Big things or small things?]

Yes, quite often. Michael is a lavish giver, even if he knows Trevor doesn’t really care one way or another about material possessions. If Michael can gift him an “Impotent Rage” comic because he used to have it as a child, even if it’s rare now and worth thousands, he’ll do it. He wants Trevor to have nice things, and he has no problem spending money in order to make that happen.

Trevor, on the opposite side, doesn’t give material gifts very often. Not really seeing the value for himself, he doesn’t much care to buy them for others either. Even so, that doesn’t mean he’s not a gift giver in his own way. Trevor will often show his giving side by actions: making sure the new movie Michael wanted to watch is rented when he comes home, cooking something for dinner (with no eyelids, he promises!), cleaning himself up, going to events he hates just because Michael loves them, and so on.

They have their own ways, and it works for them.

H is for home [Where do they live? When did they move in together?]

They have several different residencies. Several.

After the divorce was finalized, Amanda moved out to leave for the beachfront property that she desperately craved — and asked for — all throughout their time in LS.

Michael kept the house in Rockford Hills and decided to stay there. Despite some gentle coaxing, Trevor refused to give up his trailer in Sandy Shores, but Michael was secretly happy since it gave them an excuse to drive up there and sit by the Alamo Sea.

Trevor also ended up keeping the Vanilla Unicorn, at least for the time being. Neither man makes too many appearances there anymore, but Trevor’s back office does make for a good bed if he’s mad at Michael.

Officially, though, they live in Michael’s place in Rockford Hills. It’s close to where they need to go, Michael can commute fairly easily to Solomon’s studio, and Trevor is at a perfect distance to wreck havoc in whatever part of the state he chooses day to day. Michael, in the future, would be happy to consider moving somewhere else with his partner. But right now, he’s just happy Trevor agreed to stay with him.

“T, you listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, Mikey. What is it?”

Michael grabs the remote out of the other man’s hand and forces his eyes to leave the TV. “Trevor, ‘m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Trevor relents. “I’m all ears, pork chop.”

“How would you feel about staying here?”

“Well, considering I’ve already drove halfway across the city, drank a shit ton, and planned to strip you naked later, I’d say I feel pretty good about staying tonight.”

Michael smirks a little. “As sweet as that is, I meant more than just tonight. Like, ya know, stay. Live here.”

“Live here,” Trevor repeats slowly, his attention clearly on Michael completely now. “With you. In Rockford Hills. Here.”

“Yes,” Michael nods, but it comes out more like a question — not sure if Trevor really wants to live here with him.

“Okay,” Trevor agrees.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.

The sides of Michael’s mouth tick up into a small smile. “Okay.”

I is for illness [Do they care for each other when they’re sick?]

They’ll definitely care for each other no matter the illness, but their reactions certainly differ depending on the illness at hand.

If it’s the common cold, they’ll both gripe at each other about how “babyish” the other is being. That won’t stop them from picking up medicine, tissues, water, or anything else the other may need to feel better. Some playful banter is just to be expected.

If it’s a more “serious” sickness, a little bit lot more worry and anger is involved.

Trevor growls. “Fucking lay down. I told you smoking all those Redwoods would kill you one day.”

Michael follows his partner’s orders and leans back onto the bed, his mouth open, trying to breathe any air he can get without coughing. “I’m fine, asshole. ‘s just a bug.”

“It’s not just a bug,” Trevor huffs, laying down next to him. “Doctor said it’s bronchitis. That can be bad, Mikey.”

“I’ll be okay,” Michael mumbles, giving Trevor’s hand a squeeze to reassure him. “A lot of people get it.”

“A lot of people die from it, too. Especially if it’s chronic. More than 300 people.”

“That’s not a lot, T,” Michael reasons, shutting his eyes. “Mm, plus, doc said she doesn’t think it’s chronic.”

“Doesn’t think,” Trevor growls. “Fucking doctors. They don’t know shit until you’re dead.”

At that, Michael opens his eyes. “Calm down, T. It’s not that serious.”

“It is, Michael,” he says, spitting out his name. “I don’t want to lose your fat ass just because you can’t let go of your stupid habits, and the doctors in this city are too lazy to give a shit!”

Finally realizing the issue, Michael turns over in the bed to cuddle into Trevor’s side. “You won’t lose me, baby.”

“You don’t know that. I have before.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m here for the long haul now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

And when Michael stops smoking — for the most part — and convinces Trevor to try and get clean from the drugs — again, for the most part — he’s there with him every step of the way through the withdrawal symptoms.

The nightmares, lack of sleep, paranoia, irritability — all of it. Those months are probably the most Michael has ever cried, or seen Trevor cry, but it’s worth it in the end when they’re both a lot happier.

J is for jokes [Do they tease each other a lot? Do they have inside jokes nobody else gets?]

They definitely tease each other a lot. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether they’re teasing or bickering unless you really know them since most of their teasing is harsher words paired with playful undertones.

“I had an idea for our next anniversary.”

Trevor smirks. “Not sure if you’ll make it to our next anniversary, you fat fuck.”

“Nice outfit, T. I can see you’re finally embracing the ‘I liked it before it was cool’ lifestyle.”

“Fuck off, Townley.”

K is for kisses [First kiss? Do they kiss a lot?]

Their first kiss was long ago, back in North Yankton. It was after one particularly good job in ‘86. They came away with more money than they’d ever gotten together, and it took them half the time it usually does to ward off police presence and make it back to their motel.

“Fuckin’ A,” Michael shouts as soon as the motel door is closed. “We did it!”

“Fuck yeah!”

Both boys laugh, their hearts still pumping with adrenaline. Suddenly, Michael is overcome by the excitement of the success of the job or the smile on Trevor’s face, and so he pushes him against the motel door and kisses him roughly.

The kiss only realistically lasts around five seconds, but it’s enough.

“What the fuck was that?” Trevor asks once they part.

“What?”

“You kissed me.”

Michael nods and shrugs a bit, trying not to blush. “Yeah, so what?”

Trevor doesn’t say anything. In fact, the room is deadly silent for several seconds before Trevor lunges forward and captures Michael’s mouth again.

Between then and the time he meets Amanda, Michael kisses Trevor a lot. If he’s being honest, he kisses Trevor a lot after he meets Amanda too.

When they officially reconcile their relationship and decide to give being together a real shot after the Union Depository job, they — of course — kiss a lot. They have to make up for lost time after all.

L is for love [Who said ‘I love you’ first? How do they show their love?]

Although Michael kissed him first, Trevor said “I love you” first. This, too, was back in North Yankton after a night full of celebratory drinking and sex after a big job.

However, after their reconciliation in 2013, Trevor, once again, was the one to take the lead. When it comes to emotions, Trevor’s always said exactly what he was thinking. Where Michael struggles with expressing himself, Trevor does nothing but express himself.

“What?”

Trevor shakes his head lightly at Michael’s questioning. “Nothing.”

“No, come on,” Michael pushes. “You’re lookin’ at me funny.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Trevor sighs, glancing around the restaurant they’re currently sat in. “Can’t we eat?”

“You don’t want to tell me? When have you ever held your tongue? About literally anything?”

“Maybe I’m holding my tongue because I’m reluctant to say anything since last time I said it, it must have not meant shit because you married a stripper.”

“T, things with Amanda were complicated, you know that,” Michael says, grabbing his partner’s hand that’s resting on their table. “But it’s different now.”

Trevor gives a slight nod of agreement. “Yeah. It is.”

“So? What do you want to tell me?”

“I- I love you.”

Michael looks momentarily shocked, but he quickly recovers and breathes out a chuckle. “Oh.”

“You better say it back, Townley. You’re too old to have second thoughts.”

Despite Trevor’s quip, Michael grins. “I was just hoping I’d get to say it first this time. I love you too.”

M is for meals [Who cooks?]

Surprisingly, Trevor usually cooks. Or, rather, they do it together. Trevor likes the company, and Michael likes the assurance that no part of the food is human.

Trevor is a pretty good cook since he took care of his mom a lot when he was young between her copious amounts of “male friends.”

Although Michael usually is reluctant to relinquish control on a lot of things, he’s happy to sit back and watch Trevor cook, only helping when needed.

And if he gets to kiss the chef while he cooks, well, that’s just a bonus.

N is for nicknames [Do they shorten their names? Pet names?]

God, they never end — at least for Trevor. Michael does use the usual nicknames for his partner: T or Trev. After they started dating, “baby” will become a frequent contender.

For Trevor, he never stops coming up with nicknames — most of them being for his own amusement. Mikey, Mike, M, sugar, sugar tits, pork chop.

Some of them are more on-the-whim ideas: Mr. Plastic City and moneybags being quite popular.

Michael has asked Trevor to cool it down, but he doesn’t have much luck on that part.

“Get in, sugar tits.”

Michael climbs into the Bodhi, shooting Trevor a glare. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“I’m getting déjà vu. Thought we’ve had this conversation before, and I said no.”

“We have,” Michael rolls his eyes. “But I thought that once we, you know, started being together — you’d stop.”

“Aw,” Trevor smiles, linking their fingers together as he pulls out of the driveway. “No such luck, sugar tits.”

O is for outsiders [What do other people think about their relationship?]

Their relationship is a paradox to most — both surprising and not surprising in the slightest.

Amanda, who’s known them the longest outside of Lester, was initially shocked. With the way Michael talked about Trevor if she ever brought him up, it usually seemed like a one-sided friendship that was destined to end.

Though, when she looks back on it after the divorce, she’s not all that surprised after all.

“I should’ve known.”

Michael pauses before giving a half shrug to his soon-to-be ex wife. “I barely knew. It’s just always been … complicated.”

Amanda snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it, Michael. Still, you just … never wanted to talk about him. Even after everything — especially not after everything.”

“I know, Mand.”

“I always thought that maybe it was just because you felt guilty, but, well,” she trails off. “You loved — love — him.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I do.”

Lester was even easier. He knew from beginning that the boys had a long history, and even after all the years apart, he knew the barely functioning friendship between Michael and Trevor was just years of pent up sexual tension, betrayals, and love waiting to topple over.

Franklin and Lamar were equally supportive, but Lamar did ask a lot of questions that made Franklin gently kick him under the table.

“Yo, so you and crazy dude are in love?” Lamar asks. “For real? This whole time?”

Michael glances at Franklin, who’s smirking at the exchange, before he meets Lamar’s eyes again and nods. “Yeah, we are.”

Lamar chuckles. “Good luck, homie. Bet that dude is into some freaky shit in bed.”

“What he means to say is that we’re happy for you, dog,” Franklin says while nudging Lamar. “Maybe now I won’t have to hear T bitch about you every time we grab a drink.”

“Yeah, doubtful,” Michael smirks. “I’m sure he’ll find somethin’ new to complain about.”

“Yeah, like how your ass is too fat to get in the sex swing I ordered.”

All three boys whip their heads around to see Trevor stalking up and plopping into the seat next to Michael.

“That’s not- he’s kidding,” Michael fumbles.

Franklin, looking caught between amusement and horror, just nods. “Sure, whatever you say, homie.”

P is for proposal [Who proposed first? How did they do it? A lot of planning?]

Michael proposed first. He values the traditional act of marriage a little more. Not to mention, Trevor didn’t want to ruin their relationship or scare Mike off since he only just got him back. If it was up to Trevor, though, they would have just got hitched immediately.

Although Michael considers himself a bit of a romantic with his partner — a cliché, in Trevor’s words — he didn’t plan a fancy proposal paired with dinner, a moonlit walk down Vespucci Beach, and skywriting asking the big question. No, instead, he just looked at Trevor one night and asked. He asked right then and there because, for once in his life, he just let his emotions take over.

“I understand how economics work and what the working class needs! They want a six pack of beer! An eager girl in their pickup truck! And a depressing folk tune playing on the radio!”

Michael faintly hears the voice of Impotent Rage coming from the TV in front of him, but he’s barely listening as his eyes keep glancing over at Trevor, who’s sitting next to him under their blanket, munching on a bowl of popcorn and watching the superhero chant with full attention.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he listens to Trevor belt out a laugh at whatever’s happening in the show, and suddenly, he’s speaking without even realizing.

“T.”

“Hm?”

The man’s eyes don’t move from the television, so Michael tries again. “Trevor.”

Finally, his partner’s eyes peel away from the screen and look his way. “What, Mikey? I’m missing good TV here.”

Michael watches him for several seconds, the small smile from before still present. “Marry me.”

At that, the show fades into the background completely, and Trevor’s attention is focused. “You’re gonna have to repeat that, sugar. Think I misheard you.”

“I said, ‘Marry me.’”

“Jesus,” Trevor shuts the TV off and turns to face Michael, the blanket falling off them to their feet. “You serious? You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” Michael shakes his head, taking Trevor’s hands in his. “We should do it. Get married.”

There’s a long gap of silence where Michael’s not sure if Trevor’s going to laugh at him, punch him, or have another overt reaction. But in the end, he feels his partner’s body slam into his as they topple over onto the couch. And it takes a few seconds for it to register that Trevor is hugging him.

Michael laughs. “Is this a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

And if Trevor cried a little too that night, well, that’s their business.

Q is for quest [Have they ever been on a quest together? Has one done something completely crazy for the other?]

Honestly, their whole lives together have been nothing but a series of quests. But, outside of the normal robbery, revenge, avoid-dying quests, they’ll absolutely go on day-to-day missions for the other — especially Trevor.

Is Michael out of that one specific product he uses for his hair and no store in Los Santos seems to carry it? Trevor will find it.

Have one of the actors on set gone missing? Trevor’s already got their location.

It doesn’t matter how utterly dumb he thinks Michael is for caring about certain things, he’ll get it done. Somehow, some way.

“You’re welcome,” Trevor says, sitting down the black, sleek bottle on the kitchen counter. “Only one I could find, Mr. Suede Bucks.”

“You got the cologne? The fuck did you find this? It ain’t been at Ponsonbys forever.”

Trevor leans down and kisses Michael, smiling proudly. “I know. It wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, I bet, it wa-” Michael stops. “Uh, Trev?”

Trevor walks over to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Yeah?”

Michael wipes at the bottle before holding up a red-coated finger to Trevor. “Is this blood?”

Trevor pretends to inspect it before shrugging. “Not sure.”

“Oh, really? This just happened to be here?”

“Don’t ask too many questions, Mikey. Just accept the gift.”

“I didn’t want it that bad,” Michael protests. “Not at some poor bastard’s expense.”

“I got you the cologne,” Trevor says pointedly. “Just be happy, you miserable fuck.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael smiles and leans up to connect their lips again. “Well, thank you.”

R is for rainy day [What do they do when it’s raining outside?]

What better way to spend a rainy day than a movie session that your boyfriend forces you into? Right?

Michael loves to watch movies — that much is obvious. And, since Trevor loves him, he’ll indulge him on days where it’s too wet to do anything else.

Plus, a bonus of staying indoors all day is more time for … extracurricular activities.

S is for secrets [Do they keep secrets from each other?]

Trevor’s not the type to keep secrets, so anything he does, says, or thinks pretty much goes straight to Michael.

For Mike, though, he has trouble not keeping secrets. It’s not that he actively wants to lie to people, especially those he loves, but he’s done it for so long that it’s become second nature. So much so that he even expressed the worry to his new therapist.

“I don’t want to lie to anyone, ‘specially not Trevor,” Michael admits. “But it’s like I don’t know how to stop!”

“What exactly do you lie about?”

He glances around the office, shrugging. “I don’t know. The way I feel sometimes. What I want. What I don’t want. Christ, I don’t know if I’m lying or if I just don’t know the answers.”

“I think you know the answers, Michael.”

“Maybe. I just … don’t ever want to hurt Trevor again.”

Months in therapy with an actual qualified doctor — unlike Dr. Friedlander — helped Michael find new ways to cope with his knee jerk reaction to lie.

So, no, they both try not to keep anymore secrets between the two of them.

T is for travelling [Do they go on holiday together? On journeys?]

They don’t get away very often. It’s not that they don’t have the money because obviously they do. But they’re busy with their respective jobs. Michael is often working on a movie set these days, and that can take up a lot of time. And Trevor can be found running TPI, the Vanilla Unicorn, and — of course — getting up to various shenanigans.

In a last ditch effort to connect to his kids, he did invite them on a small trip, where they ended up going to the zoo alongside Trevor.

“Ew, daddy, what is that?”

Before Michael can answer Tracey’s question, he sees her reach out toward the animal. “Trace! Don’t fuckin’ touch it!”

“Hey, you better watch out, kid, or it’ll eat you,” Trevor says, putting his arm around Tracey.

“You’d save her, uncle T,” Jimmy pipes up.

Trevor smirks. “We’d just sacrifice your dad. He’d take one for the team.”

Tracey giggles, nodding. “Totes.”

Michael pulls Trevor’s arm off of Tracey before giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, fuck you. If anything, we’d sacrifice your ass. With the way you smell, it’d probably think you’re a dead animal anyway.”

“As if you’d give me up that easily,” Trevor says, brushing their hands together as they walk along the zoo path. “You love me, Michael Townley.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Besides that, they mostly stick with San Andreas. But Michael’s been thinking about planning a trip back to North Yankton. He knows Trevor misses the Midwest, and he thinks they’re grown enough now in their relationship to relive nostalgic, good memories while there instead of being thrown back into painful ones.

U is for urges [Do they pine after each other? How often to they think about each other?]

They do pine — in their own ways. For Trevor, it’s more blatant, obvious longing.

Before getting together officially, Trevor made it a point to drudge up the past or make snippy comments about how much Michael’s changed. Under all the semi-faux anger, all he wanted was for Michael to realize how much he’s missed him.

As for Michael himself, his pining came in the form of silence. He didn’t want to ever talk about Trevor, or hear about him, or think about him. He missed him too, but every thought surrounding the man was laced with guilt.

“We did it, T!” Michael cheers. “Fuckin’ A. Pulled off the Big One.”

“Sure did, Mikey,” Trevor smiles slightly as he whips the car down the LS Freeway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I know. I figured we’d be settling into prison by now if we ever attempted it. I mean, we-”

“No,” Trevor stops him. “Never thought I’d see the day since you were dead.”

The air in the car grows thicker than it usually does with Trevor’s quips as Michael struggles with how to respond.

Eventually, Michael sighs. “Thought you said we were good.”

“We are.”

“Then why do you have to bring it up? Can’t we have one decent conversation without you always having to mention it? Jesus Christ, T.”

Trevor grinds his teeth, facing Michael with an accusatory finger as the car comes to a stop on the side of the road. “Fuck you! I’m going to bring it up until you’re so sick and tired of hearing about it that you rip your own ears off!”

“Oh, well, if I’d known that was all it’d take to shut your ass up, I would’ve ripped ‘em off months ago!”

“Good! I wish you fucking would!”

Both of them lean back into the silence as Trevor slams on the gas and buzzes past the cars around them.

After pulling into his driveway, Michael gets out and slams the door behind him, leaving Trevor in the car without another word. He slowly starts the trek up to his door, suddenly realizing that — once the door shuts — he’s going to be alone once again.

Chancing a look back, he checks to see if Trevor’s still sitting in the car, and he is — unmoving.

Michael turns around and makes his way to the window, not even having to knock before Trevor’s rolling it down.

Michael gestures vaguely. “Want to come in?”

Trevor gives a curt nod and moves to get out of the car. “You better have beer.”

After popping open a few drinks and settling onto the couch, Trevor’s voice fills the otherwise quiet room. “Look, ‘m sorry. Okay? I know we’re trying to move on. But fuck, Michael. It’s hard. You … you left me, and you didn’t even think twice.”

“Didn’t think twice? You kidding me? I thought twice. I thought three times, four times, a hundred times. But I had a family, and I didn’t know what else to do. I messed up. I know that. And I’ve had to live with that every day. Every day, I thought about you — hoped that you weren’t dead, or when I was really fuckin’ depressed, hoped that you were so I didn’t have to feel so damn guilty. So don’t tell me that I didn’t think twice, asshole.”

Seconds later, the air is knocked out of Michael as Trevor pushes his lips roughly against his. He lets out a small hiss when he feels Trevor bite down on his bottom lip before his tongue brushes against his.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael breathes out against Trevor’s lips.

“I’ve missed you too, sugar.”

V is for virtues [What’s their favourite thing about each other?]

Trevor loves that Michael is, well, Michael. Despite the long list of qualities he could ramble off that he doesn’t like about him: constant sarcasm, hypocritical, arrogant …

He’s also fond of those qualities because that’s who Michael is. He’s an asshole, and Trevor likes him that way. Secretly.

Michael, on the other hand, has a distinct quality of Trevor that he’s most fond of — loyalty. Michael himself has never been loyal. He’s cheated, lied, hurt, coerced, and backstabbed almost everyone he’s ever known. Although Trevor’s physically hurt his fair share of people, his loyalty to his friends is unshakable.

Michael almost hates that about him too. He’ll often wish Trevor gave less of a shit about him because, maybe then, their past wouldn’t cut as deep.

Still, Michael will hold tightly on to every last bit of loyalty Trevor’s willing to give him now.

W is for wedding [Who plans it? Big or small? Does it go smooth?]

It’s a pretty small event considering Michael’s already done the whole marriage thing before. Neither of them really care about a monumental party paired with dancing, catering, and people galore. They really only want to get hitched for the sake of being together forever and, as Trevor jokes, so it’s practically legally required for them to love one another.

Does it go smooth? Ha! If you asked anyone — anyone — that they know if anything ever has gone smooth when it comes to Michael and Trevor, they’d laugh.

It wasn’t a total disaster or anything, but there were certainly hiccups along the way.

“The fuck do you mean he’s missing?” Michael pulls the phone away from his ear as the lady on the other end tries to explain the whereabouts of his suit tailor. “Trevor!”

“But I assure you that we’re trying to find him, Mr. De Santa.”

Michael barely catches the end of what she’s saying as he pushes the phone back against his ear. “Look, lady. I don’t give a shit where your boss is. Do you have my suit?”

“We don’t have it here with us,” she explains. “He likely took it home, but I assure you-”

Michael hangs up the phone as Trevor finally comes strutting into the kitchen.

“What’s up, pork chop? Trouble at the studio?”

“No, trouble with the suit guy. Apparently, he’s gone missing.”

“Huh.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “That was a short answer. And ya don’t seem that shocked.”

“It’s Los Santos,” Trevor shrugs. “People go missing all the time. He probably found the one hot broad in this city that likes 50-year-old men with braces and hit the road with her.”

“How did you know he had braces? I’ve never hold you that.”

“What the fuck is this, Mikey? An interrogation?”

Michael steps around the kitchen table until he’s face to face with his partner, giving him a sharp, piercing look. “Trevor.”

“Fine! I met the guy for a bit,” Trevor relents. “Went to talk to him about fixing up my outfit as well, but we didn’t see eye to eye.”

“Oh, God. What does that mean?”

Trevor’s eyes shine in light amusement. “I think we’re going to have to look for someone else.”

X is for xenia [What’s it like to be their guest?]

Well, they don’t really have a lot of people over. The only people who ever visit them are Franklin and Lamar, sometimes Tracey and Jimmy, and on the rarest occasions, Lester. But that’s usually only if he needs something.

When they’re in Sandy Shores, they’ll have Ron over, and occasionally, they’ll bring Wade when Trevor wants to get him out of the strip club.

Being their guest is like going to a haunted house. It can be fun, but you have a chance of getting traumatized in some way.

“Hey, do y’all two have any-” Franklin stops, throwing his hands over his eyes as he jumps back into the hallway. “What the fuck?”

Trevor’s laughter fills in the room as Michael blushes, fumbling for the zipper on his pants before pulling Trevor up from his knees.

“Fuck,” Michael starts. “Sorry. We ain’t doing anything. I promise.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, dog,” Franklin shudders, finally peaking through his fingers. “Look, I just came to ask if y’all had any beer. But I can see you’re busy.”

“We weren’t …” Michael trails off, knowing there’s no point in denying it. “I’ll show you where it is.”

The three boys walk downstairs, Trevor still snickering to himself as Michael nudges him every so often to try and get him to quit.

“Maybe next time, wait for your guests to leave before you start messing around up there,” Franklin chuckles.

The boys’ heads glance over when Lamar pipes up beside them, apparently catching the end of the conversation. “Yo, you and crazy dude was fuckin’ up there?”

“Kill me,” Michael mumbles while Trevor cackles beside him.

Yeah, they don’t have guests over very often anymore.

Y is for yearly [Any traditions? Anniversaries?]

They’ve picked up some new traditions and brought back some old. Back in North Yankton, before Michael ever met Amanda, there were several years that he and Trevor would bake holiday cookies for Christmas. Were they good at it? No. But that never stopped them. Neither of them grew up in particularly warm households, so it was up to them to create some kind of holiday cheer.

Plus, when Tracey was born, she loved to help out. Oftentimes, you could find her in Trevor’s arms as they used cookie cutters to make the dough into little trees and reindeer.

Deciding to carry that tradition into their relationship and marriage, every Christmas they bake cookies, and every year, they taste a little like shit. But they both love it.

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Tracey says, hugging Michael and Trevor. “Merry Christmas, uncle T.”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Trevor pats her back before going to grab a few of the supplies needed for the recipe they’re making.

Michael hands her a bowl for the dough. “Merry Christmas, Trace. Glad you could come over. How’s college going?”

“Good! Classes, like, totally rock!”

He smiles, nodding approvingly. “Good.”

“What about your brother? He too good to hang out with us tonight?” Trevor jokes, setting the butter, milk, and eggs down on to the table.

Tracey giggles. “I think he’s working.”

“I’m still not used to hearing that,” Michael laughs. “What about your mom?”

“She’s good too. She’s, and I quote, ‘finally relaxed now that you’re someone else’s problem.’”

Trevor snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way,” Michael shoves him lightly.

“Maybe not.”

Michael, Trevor, and Tracey work in unison for the next 20 minutes until they finally have some semi-decent cookies that are ready to be baked. Sticking them in the oven and setting a timer, they all get cleaned up and move to the living room.

Michael flops down onto the couch, and Trevor falls next to him, putting his arm around his shoulders. Tracey makes her way to the other side of the couch so she can stretch her legs as they all wait for the cookies to be done.

“We should make this a tradition again! Now that you and daddy are together, we could do this, like, every year. Remember when we used to do this when I was young, uncle T?”

“Sure do, kiddo,” Trevor grins. “With Jimmy too.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess he could even come next year. What do you think?”

Michael sees that Tracey and Trevor are looking at him for an answer, so he nods. “Yeah, we could probably make that happen.”

The three of them talk about the future, Tracey mostly supplying the conversation with her babbling while Michael and Trevor happily sit back, leaning into each other as they listen.

When it comes to anniversaries, they also celebrate those every year. They’re not as uptight as some couples about them, but they tend to mean a lot to Trevor, and it’s a concrete way for Michael to show that he’s putting work into their relationship and cares about it enough to do so. So, they celebrate them every year.

Z is for Zzz [Sleep habits? Who’s the big spoon? What do they wear in bed? Are they coddlers?]

Michael’s never really gotten a perfect night’s rest — not since he was a baby presumably. He’s had okay nights and even, what he’d consider, good nights. But never perfect. Never the full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Nightmares often plague his nighttime life. When he was a teen, it used to be flashes of his father hitting him — beating him black and blue until he was coughing blood days after. As a young adult, he dreamt of robberies gone wrong, getting shot, going to prison, and so on. As an older man, his dreams are a toss-up between his past worries and his future ones. Hurting Trevor, dying, or, most often, both.

Trevor, in the past, didn’t sleep a lot either. Some nightmares, sure, but mostly from the drugs coursing through his veins at any given time. Since Michael and him got together and he started working on being clean, he’s gotten a bit more sleep than the usual.

The same can be said for Michael, though. Sleeping next to Trevor has helped tremendously, especially for his Trevor-themed nightmares. Knowing he’ll wake up next to the man is comforting.

Because of their shaky sleep schedule, they both take turns being the big spoon/little spoon depending on who needs what.

Trevor gently nudges Michael, who’s restlessly tossing around. “Mikey … Mikey.”

Michael’s eyes fly open, and Trevor grabs his arms to stop them from reaching for the gun by the bed.

The dark room stays silent for a minute as Michael’s breathing levels out before he sighs. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Trevor gives a noncommittal hum. “You haven’t had a dream like that in awhile.”

“Yeah, we’ve been sleepin’ good recently, huh?”

Trevor puts his arms around Michael, feeling his bare chest rise and fall steadily. “Yeah, sure have. What were you dreamin’ about?”

“Just … North Yankton,” Michael admits, pulling Trevor close. “Being back there — what could have happened, I guess.”

“There’s no use thinking about the past since we can’t change it. Ain’t that what your new shrink said?”

“She said I should let it go,” he corrects. “But I can’t.”

Trevor frowns, tracing circles on Michael’s chest. “Why not? Still sad you missed your opportunity to put me down?

“Knock it off,” Michael grabs his hand, scratching where Trevor was lightly brushing before. “And that ain’t funny, T.”

Trevor rolls his eyes but decides not to push it. “Look, sugar, we all have things we regret. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters, right? We’ve got your spoiled kids, Franklin, Lamar, hell, even Lester. We’re good.”

“I know,” Michael says quietly, agreeing. “I really am sorry, though. For a lot shit.”

“Yeah, me too. For a lot of shit.”

Michael leans down and kisses Trevor’s head before pulling the blankets up over them again and going back to sleep.

When they can’t sleep, it’s usually filled with just that — banter, soft comforts, and an insult or two so the other can feel right at home. It’s not always picture perfect, but they wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

#michael de santa #michael townley #trikey #trevor philips #ask response

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glostuffbear · 10 months ago

Text

Twins -miya osamu x femreader

Idea just came to me. What if Miya Osamu or Miya Atsumu dated someone who had a twin (and didn't know they had a twin lol). One day the twins decide to prank/test them.

"Do you have siblings?"

"Yeah, a sister. But we don't live together anymore since our parents split. I don't see her often."

Fast forward five years later, me and Gin have graduated and moved out of our troublesome family situation. For the first time we've been able to just sit down and catch up with each other. There were tears, there were laughs, there were long stories of what we've been up to.

And then, the big question pops up.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I stop drinking the smoothie I had ordered and freeze in my tracks. I look up at my identical twin. She has the same facial features at me. Same eye color, same long lashes, same face shape. We even have the same hair color and over the course of time neither one of us have changed its style since the time we split apart.

She is my identical twin, who I never told Osamu I have.

"Y-yeah."

She must have noticed my frown because she mirrors it and tilts her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I.... never told Osamu I had a twin. I told him I had a sister... But..."

"You never told him we were identical." She finishes. I nod my head.

"We can go to the Onigiri place he owns and introduce you properly. He's a twin himself actually so he'll probably get a kick out of it." I propose.

A sneaky smile spreads across Gin's face as she takes another sip of her own smoothie. It reminds me of all the evil schemes she used to cook up when we were little kids.

"You don't say. Another twin huh? I have an idea."

"Gin..."

"Hear me out...."

"What if we trade clothes and pay your boyfriend a visit? See if we can tell it's not you." She suggests.

"I don't know Gin. Osamu and his twin Atsumu have played the same trick on me over the phone and it doesn't feel great--"

"All the more reason to do it! Come on! Just this once for old times sake. Aren't you curious?" She presses.

In all honesty, I am.

We decide to go visit his shop. Beforehand we exchange clothes and she asks me some general questions to not tip him off.

"What do you call him, dotingly?"

"'Samu."

"What do you usually get?"

"I like the salmon onigiri."

"Where did you guys meet?"

"He was part of the volleyball team in school with his twin. I helped out."

"What's his twin's name?"

"Atsumu."

"Got it. Alright. I'm going in."

She pats down my clothes, which fit her perfectly because we're the same size and height. Even our shoe sizes match.

She smiles reassuringly at me and squeezes my hand before she crosses the street to where the Onigiri shop is.

"Don't worry, I'll stop before anything happens."

"Okay Gin. Good luck."

She crosses the street and enters the shop. I give it a minute before crossing the street as well and looking through one of the windows of the shop.

"Hey 'Samu."

The man turns around, carrying some freshly made tuna in his arms. He offers a warm smile back and takes on of his hands off the white bowl to wave.

"Hey. Take seat I'll be right there, Love."

She goes to the front booth and takes a seat crisscross on the stool. She takes out your phone (yes you two even went as far as to swap phones and passwords to get in). She smiles fondly down at the picture of the two of you.

During movie night one time, Osamu fell asleep with his head on your shoulder. You couldn't help take a picture of the two of you. It became your favorite couple photo. Honestly, you two are really cute together. Gin's happy that you have found someone that makes you happy.

"Hey. What are ya doin' here?"

Gin's head turns a little. Unbeknownst to her, a man that looks crazy similar to your boyfriend has taken seat next to her. Gin immediately deduces it to be the other twin. Confidently she puts up a friendly smile.

"Atsumu. I came to surprise 'Samu. I was around the area." She explains.

Atsumu hums and lifts up a mug he had brought with him. He takes a thoughtful sip and brings the mug down again. It goes unnoticed by Gin that Atsumu stares at her out of the corner of his eye suspiciously.

Osamu returns around the booth and wipes his hands off on a clean towel.

"Hey, Love. What brings ya here?" He asks.

"I came to see you. And to eat some salmon onigiri please." She hums, beaming at him.

"Ya ate salmon onigir yesterday." He chuckles.

"Yeah but I want more today."

"Okay. It's comin' right up. I thought that's what you'd order." He hums back.

"Thanks. You're the best 'Samu."

She reaches out and grabs one of his hands, warmly rubbing over his hand with her thumb. He looks down at their hands and then looks back at her face.

He doesn't say anything, but it's clear that he's thinking. He doesn't pull his hand away though.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?" She asks playfully.

He blinks and frowns a little.

"Um.... are you..... feeling okay? Or did 'tsumu trick ya into somethin'?" He asks quizically.

"No."

She glances at Atsumu who has turned in his stool to really look at her. Apparently both sense that something fishy is going on. Not bad.

"No I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You're talkin' kinda funny. It's not like you. I don't know.... you just.... feel different today." 'Samu explains. He sounds confused but before he can interrogate her more, a bell in the kitchen dings for him.

Saved by the bell, Osamu goes off and gives her an opportunity to regroup herself.

"So, where is she?"

Gin's head turns slowly towards Atsumu. He's leaning in, elbow on the counter and head in his palm. He's smiling at her, like someone who finally understood a good job.

"Who?"Gin asks, already knowing what he means.

"You know. Your twin. Or should I say, our twin. The one we know." He explains.

Words catch in her throat, she doesn't know what else to say to keep the game going. Atsumu chuckles.

"Come on. Me and 'Samu's played this game before. I know when a twin is trying be their other twin when it happens. You two are tryin' to prank us right?" Atsumu presses.

Well the gig is up. Gin sighs in defeat and rests her hands on the counter.

"I just wanted to test her boyfriend. See if he's worthy of my sister. We haven't spoken in forever and as soon as we moved away from our parent's home, she reached out to me first. She's so kind. All this time she never forgot about me. I want to make sure she's not with some jerk." She explains.

"I get it. Ha. Knew I was right. She's always so meek and shy. She sits in the back because she doesn't wanna distract Osamu. You're too outgoing to be her." Atsumu notes.

"I'll play along with your game for now." He adds.

"Thanks."

"But I ain't letting ya get any farther than hand holding and hugs got it?"

"I wasn't going to go any farther anyways."

Osamu returns from the kitchen with the salmon onigir and presents it in front of Gin with a heart around it. She smiles down at plate and then up at Osamu.

"Thanks 'Samu."

"Sure." He nods. There is still that quizzical expression on his face. He raises an eyebrow at his twin brother, but he only shrugs back in return.

"What did ya do today?" Osamu asks conversationally.

"I went out with an old friend of mine. We haven't each other in a while."

"Oh, cool. Which friend?"

"You wouldn't know her."

He does a double take of her and averts his gaze to lemonade processor. He fills up a lemonade cup and brings it for her.

"Did ya remember to pick up the groceries asked you to get fa' me this morning?" He asks.

Uh-oh. Something about that question sounds like a test. She glances at Atsumu who gives a subtle shake of his head.

"I.... think I forgot. I don't remember you telling me. I had plans already in my head this morning so it must have slipped my mind." She replies. He hums and turns away, busying himself with pulling the new mobile orders on his computer.

"Then, what was my volleyball number in high school?"

She blinks at him.

"Sorry?"

He repeats himself once more and this time side eyes her suspiciously as he does. He was onto her. She glances at Atsumu who lowers his hands to hide them under the counter.

"Don't help her Atsumu." Osamu orders.

She glances back up at him and makes a sad puppy face, hoping for some mercy.

"I-I don't remember Osamu."

"Really?"

He turns back around to them and approaches Gin, eyes squarely on her face.

"You know the second you came in I've been havin' a weird feelin' ya. You don't act right and you can't remember what my jersey number was. You would know that." He accuses.

Gin holds back the urge to smirk.

"I'm just tired today 'Samu--"

"I've figured it out. You're not my girl are ya?"

Her silence is enough for him.

"I remember she told me once in high school that she had a sister. She just never told me her sister was a twin sister. Am I right?"

"About time you figured it out." Atsumu hums.

"Shut up. Were you in on this 'Tsumu?"

"No. I just figured it out a little before you." He teases, sticking his tongue out in victory. Osamu sighs and stares pleasingly at Gin.

"Where's my girl?"

She ends up calling her and admitting that they passed her test. Seconds later she walks through the doors with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry Osamu." She apologizes. Osamu meets her half way and hugs her. He can't pin point why, but all of a sudden he really misses her.

"It's fine. I'll consider pay back for when me and Atsumu did it." He accepts.

He kisses her forehead and takes another good look at her.

"You're not a triplet are ya?"

She laughs shakes her head.

"Yeah? What's my--"

You're jersey number is 11. It was a black and golden uniform. You were an awesome wing spiker. You like pudding--"

He interrupts her with a kiss to her lips and turns her face beet red.

"'Samu! We're in public!" She complains.

"Sorry. Just wanted to make sure." He smiles.

#miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu

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kagsboyfriend · 1 year ago

Text

Week One

Bisexual!Makoto x Gay!Yamagishi ; Virginity and Masturbation

masterlist | ao3

a/n: this desviated from the initial idea so much that i thought of restarting it, so if theres not much smut, that's why.

After class noons were usually spent two ways by Makoto. The first one was by goofing around with his friends, the so-gang called “Mizo Middle Five”, which activities usually consisted of roaming around Shibuya loitering, looking for people to fight and get beaten up, that if they were lucky, other days were intercepted by third years and high schoolers and get their ass beaten up by them unexpectedly. The second way was masturbating.

Makoto was laying on his bed, hands behind his head and looking towards the ceiling. Not a lot of thoughts were running down his head, but one in particular hit interest in his mind, about that woman in a very tiny bikini of a magazine he grabbed from an alleyway. That peaked his mind, and his dick too, so he began looking for the mag. He usually hid the porn in between his matress and its base, and not just the magazines, all of the adult stuff that he had were there, which was also JAVs and even some erotic writings.

After finagling in between his bed, he finally grabbed the magazine. As he was fantasizing about the young adult, he rapidly undid his pants and pulled them down, throwing them with his legs across the room. Makoto started to fondle his cock as he positioned himself comfortably, laying his back on the wall.

His eyes were gazing quickly towards the features of the woman, stroking his now erect penis in an up and down motion. As to experience more pleasure, he nibbed the very red tip of his dick with his thumb, making him shudder. He turned the page quite in a clumsy manner, still using one hand. The focus went to the same girl, who was now showing her breasts, thus stepping up Makoto a notch and making him stroke harder.

“O-oh shit~” Makoto gasped, letting his climax build up. He discarded the magazine, just focusing on cumming. His hand moved on an ungodly speed, making his shaft redder by the second, especially the tip. He heard the door close abruptly. Did the door shut by itself? He thought, but one and a half second reasoning concluded that his mom caught him jerking off again.

“MOOOM, I told you to knock on the door!!!” The black-haired one shouted towards the room entrance. “I’m not your mom dumb-ass” Yamagishi screamed back, taken aback by what his friend was doing. Well, in all honesty, he knew what Makoto does, he knew about his weird obsession over girls and porn in general, and even how he talks about jacking off, not about what he masturbates to, also about HOW he does it, which at that point didn’t even bother the brown-headed one. But to actually see Makoto masturbating is what is weird to him.

Makoto quickly put his undergarments and pants back on, as soon as he was going to tell Yamagishi to come in, he knocked on the door and said “Can I come in?”

“Whatever” The raven-haired responded “You already spoiled the fun”

Yamagishi frowned “Hey, don’t blame me for your irresponsible ass not hearing the door” He responded, avoiding eye contact with his friend. “What’d ya want?” The older demanded. Today was not the best time to be annoyed, and yet there he was, demanding some attention like a little kid, or at least is what Makoto thought.

But Yamagishi had other plans.

“Nothing, I just wanted to hang out here, can’t do it?” The glasses one asked sarcastically, walking in front of his friend and plopping his back into the bed. Makoto still looked at him mad, but as the climax and horniness went down, he softened his gaze. “Yeah, I guess you can”

Yamagishi moves his head to now face Makoto, but saw the porn magazine he was jacking to. Not thinking much of it, he grabbed it and started flipping through the pages, not paying much attention beyond what he can see, which is breasts and asses. Makoto saw his best friend just flip through the mag, and raised his voice to say something.

“She has weird nips” Yamagishi seemingly interrupted. What? Makoto thought. “And you say I’M the one who makes weird comments” The raven-haired exclaimed.

“No but really, look” Yamagishi stood up and shoved the mag into Makoto’s face. He pushed him away and grabbed it to look. What he saw there were normal female nipples. “This are normal what do you mean are weird”

Yamagishi scoffed “No. Those are weird af, mine’s arent like that.” Makoto deadpanned. Did his best friend really say this? He knows he has said some ridiculous things, but this borders the insanity frame. “You dumbass, they’re female nipples, female and male nips are different you dipshit”

“No they’re not” Yamagishi responded loudly “Look” He grabbed the end of his shirt and pulled it, taking the piece of fabric off “Compare them and tell me which look the weirdest.” At this point Makoto had enough, all that brains of his friend to be wasted on just gang stuff. “I’m just gonna leave” He stood up and walked towards the door.

Yamagishi freaked out and grabbed Makoto’s arm “Pussy if you’re not”

Oh.

Makoto didn’t want to inspect Kazushi’s nipples

but he didn’t want to be called a pussy

So he complied. Not only to not be humiliated, but to also get that over with fast.

Makoto grabbed the magazine and folded it so the woman’s nipples were on the edge of the page, putting it besides Yamagishi’s nips. He inspected for a solid 15 seconds to conclude “Yep, your nipples are the weird ones.”

Yamagishi stared back with a mad look on his face “No the fuck they're not” He was determined to win this pointless fight. And so did Makoto, as he rambled about his nipples being normal while taking his shirt off, trying to prove his point.

Makoto touched his nipples first, trying to inspect the shape of them. After that, he walked up to Yamagishi to “inspect them” (a/n: oh god this is turning weird, I swear there will be porn).

Makoto just slightly brushed the smaller's tit, but that caused the other to flinch. The raven tried to touch the chestnut haired's nip, but the more that Makoto worked with them, the more that Yamagishi got flustered and the redder and hotter his cheeks were getting. Makoto didn't back up from this, as a normal person should, instead he continued to rub his friend's nipples, just to fuck with him even more. After what Kazushi felt like a lot of teasing, he shoved the brunet away, trying to hide his blush, averting eye contact.

All that touching got both of them worked up, and slowly their dangerous hornyness started to creep in. Makoto looked at the state of his friend, kind of proud that he got Yamagishi to look like that.

Vulnerable and hot, he said in his mind.

The taller's gaze wandered Yamagishi's body, but his attention spanned towards something poking the shorter's pants. Makoto didn't quite think this through, as he got closer to his (now in question) friend. Yamagishi's eyes trembled slightly, in expectancy of what Makoto was going to do next. His cheeks were turning a crimson color never seen before by the two of them.

Makoto shifted his dominant hand towards the bulge in the other's pants. Now that was something Kazushi was expecting; out of all of the things that he thought that Makoto was going to do, he never foretold that he was going to grab his groin.

The hand grabbed Kazushi's balls and mildly erected dick, stroking it in a slow, circular manner. Whimpers were started to be outed off the shorter's mouth, as he took in the movements and the pleasure. He closed his eyes to soak in better the sensations.

What was going on Makoto's head at this time was confusing, all he felt is that this was weird, but if Yamagishi didn't desist, that meant that he liked it. Well, not like that, you see; they have been best friends for a little while now, so they both knew when they were fight-playing and when they were actually mad at each other or if they were uncomfortable. So Makoto and Yamagishi knew that the other one was enjoying this.

Makoto grabbed the waistband of the other's pants and pulled them down. He kneeled, now having the crotch at his face. He stuffed his face into the underwear, pushing the organ around with his mouth and face. Yamagishi was now moaning even more, getting harder by the second.

The taller grabbed the fabric with his teeth and brought down the garment, setting the penis free. His mouth made its way towards the tip, kissing it gently. Yamagishi, in a state of pure pleasure, he grabbed Makoto's hair as a way to hold himself together, loking towards him, his face a literal mess.

As Makoto put the penis into his mouth, Yamagishi's cheeks got stupidly hot and red by the stimulation, to the point that he started to tear.

The raven continued to suck, licking around inside the dick, trying to get the best out of it. Quickly, he also undid his pants and started to stroke his own penis, trying to reach climax.

As both of them got closer, Makoto tasted and swallowed the precum, finding it tasty, while also stroking his cock at a faster pace. Yamagishi, on the other hand, he put his hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his moans, which didn't work as he moaned harder into his hands, even biting into them.

Yamagishi came first, into the other's mouth, letting a guttural moan out and pushing Makoto to deepthroat him. Makoto tasting and swallowing the shorter's cum pushed him onto the limit, cumming into his hand and bare chest. After panting from tiredness, Makoto stood up, moving towards his bed to get tissue to clean his hand, but Yamagishi grabbed his arm. He moved the hand towards his mouth, licking the cum out of it. After that, he leaned into Makoto's chest, also licking the cum out of it.

“Promise to never tell this to someone”

“Promise” they both agreed.

“One question real quick” Makoto said, looking to Yamagishi, who had a interested look.

“Does that make you not a virgin?” He asked. Yamagishi thought of it, but didn't think of it too much “I guess so.” Hearing that made Makoto just a bit mad, punching Kazushi in his forearm.

“Oww, what was that for?”

“Nothing, just mad that now you're not a virgin but i'm still am”

“No you're not” Yamagishi responded. “You sucked my dick, that makes you not virgin from the mouth”

“No but I dont wanna be virgin on the penis, not mouth” The raven pouted “I'm gonna make you suck my dick so I wont be a virgin anymore”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“However you wanna see it”

#tokyo revengers #kazushi yamagishi #yamagishi kazushi #makoto suzuki #suzuki makoto #lazy ghoul's kinktober 2023 #lazyghoulskinktober2023

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extinct-fish · 2 days ago

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Reaper's Bride Drabble

In the time it took for the Dis-poison to be in stock, Ryoji had Orpheus heal Makoto in the morning, then he would spend the day with Makoto, making sure to keep him company. It was strange for Makoto to be cared for, as he often took it upon himself to care for others. He kept trying to find reasons to be continuously wary of Ryoji, but the more that the god of death spent time with him, the more he felt his own barriers crumbling.

As Ryoji promised, he administered the antidote as soon as the dis-poison came in. When it was administered, Makoto immediately felt relief, like he returned to his former health before the sacrifice.

How coincidental for the snow to come as the dis-poison was administered. Makoto could see the snow attempting to lay a blanket of its cold white fluffy powder.

“Since you’re now cured, I have to show you around,” Ryoji said as he got up, “I do owe you a tour of the manor.”

“You sure?” Makoto asked.

“Yes. Since you’ve met me, the shadows won’t hurt you, I promise. They may pull pranks, so I can’t guarantee they won’t make you dizzy or amorous to say the least.”

“At least that’s better than being poisoned by a literal table.”

“You are not going to live that down, are you?”

“Oh gee, ya think?” Makoto huffed sarcastically.

“I love when you’re sarcastic.”

“Oh, you’ll get sick of it.”

“Quite the contrary, funeral lily,” Ryoji pulled Makoto towards him, causing the boy to stumble a bit, “I actually like when people don’t really see me as a god and rather see me as a person.”

“So pretty much ‘what’s a god to a non-believer,’ huh?”

“Yep. Now c’mon! We’ve got so much to see!” Ryoji practically dragged Makoto enthusiastically.

“Whoa- RYOJI! SLOW DOWN YOU GODDAMNED PUPPY!”

“Oh- sorry, I’m just excited, since I’ve always wanted someone to be with me genuinely.”

“Geez, Ryoji, you don’t need to drag me all over the place. I’m the kind of guy to take things slow, y’know!”

“Ohhh, okay, sorry, I’ll adjust to your pace. Just let me know if I’m going too fast, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, as you’ve seen when I brought you up here, this is the hall of the Gods.”

“Never knew it had a name.”

“Just about every room has a name,” Ryoji chuckled.

“Really?”

“Well, pretty much. I could talk about every god here if you want to ask about them.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I know each one.”

“Okay, so Orpheus mentioned the heart against the feather thing, what’s up with that?”

“Oh, the weighing of the heart against the feather?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, in Egypt, when you die, your body would be mummified with all but one organ removed: The heart. Your spirit went to the duat, which is the Egyptian underworld, and with it, you carried your heart. There, you went through various challenges to be able to come face-to-face with Osiris, the Egyptian god of the Underworld. The final one would be Anubis, the god of embalming and the judge.”

“Uh huh.”

“And what he does is that he takes the feather of Ma’at, which is quite a bit heavy in all honesty, and he weighs it against the heart. The heart represented your soul and if the heart was heavier, then that meant you were wicked and your heart was eaten by Ammut, which was a heart-eating monster. The reason is because it prevents the dead from going to the field of reeds, which is the afterlife.”

“So when Orpheus mentioned that you were looking for someone with their hearts lighter than the feather…”

“I meant I wanted someone who was good. It’s a common sentiment all mortals- even gods- feel, but it’s not often a good person comes around.”

“So… what’s the Greek version of the field of reeds?”

“Well, we’ve got three levels: Tartarus, the Asphodel Meadows, and the Elysian Fields. Most mortals live a decent life, and they go to the Asphodel meadows. However, there are few that actually manage to get to the Elysian Fields. Tartarus is reserved for the miserable assholes that like to ruin people’s day.”

“Huh. So how would you determine that?”

“How good a person is?”

“Yeah.”

“Actions speak louder than words, and I like to see how others feel about you before completely judging someone’s character.”

Ryoji then turned to Makoto.

“But, there’s something that tells me that you're kinder than you seem.”

“Do I look stand-offish?”

“Well, no, you look like someone plagued with apathy, but if I had to guess, you’re someone who’s much less apathetic.”

“Is that supposed to be a complement?”

“Just an observation. I don’t know what you and Orpheus discussed, and frankly, that’s not my business unless you wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Anyways, moving on! Next to the Anubis statue is my office. I’m not really there often, but I like to go there for writing sometimes, usually for logging how my brides are doing. It’s all the same ending: they either leave or they just… nevermind, I don’t want to depress you.”

“I’ve heard. They either leave or commit suicide.”

“Orpheus?”

“Yeah. He told me that he’s pretty much sick of seeing you so depressed.”

“Sounds like Orpheus,” Ryoji chuckled, “Anyways- your entries are relatively new, so if you want to read the entries, I’ve got nothing to hide, I’m all for open communication.”

“Geez, either you’re shameless or-”

“‘Just too considerate?’ I’ve heard that one before, I can’t really help being selfless.”

“I can tell.”

“Anyways, over by the statue of the furies, that’s my room. If you ever feel like you need company, you can always come in.”

“No knocking?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide, so just feel free to barge in. Make sure to close the door on the way out, of course.”

“Jeez. That open, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you worried about-”

“‘Someone taking advantage of you?’ Not a bit. I am the god of death, and if someone dares try to abuse me in some ways, their souls are mine to eat.”

“I thought only Ammut ate the souls?”

“Oh, every god of death eats souls,” Ryoji laughed, “It just so happens that the soul is in the heart, and each of us are able to rip out hearts.”

“Damn. Okay, yeah, I gotcha,” Makoto sighed, “Sheesh, how can someone so sweet be so deadly..?”

“Well, many things in nature are poisonous, but look beautiful,” Ryoji shrugged, “Pipevine Swallowtails are poisonous due to the pipevine plants they fed on as caterpillars, but are still beautiful.”

“Is that a compliment for yourself?”

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t apply to me. I’d say the butterflies share a similarity with mortals far more than they would share similarities with me.”

“Then what would you compare yourself to?”

“Hmmm… Probably a bumble bee.”

“A bumble bee?”

“I’m not benefiting humanity, nor am I detrimental. I’m mostly sweet and patient, but provoke me and you get stung.”

“Sounds about right. Though plenty of people would say you’re a wasp.”

“A wasp?!” Ryoji seemed offended.

“Well, people often say death is cruel, detrimental, yet a crucial part of life,” Makoto answered with no change of attitude.

“Is that how humanity views me?” Ryoji sighed with disapproval.

“Well, some people do. I think you’re more like a honey bee.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re sweet, you’re protective, and frankly, people benefit from you a lot more than they think.”

#persona 3 #writing #creative writing #ryoji mochizuki #makoto yuki #ryomina

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twistafr · 9 days ago

Text

Waterboy Summer

more ted x schlatt smut! but it's not long as 10k or short as 1k unlike most of my stuff lol

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,784 Summary:

“Shush it, Ted,” He warns, a very distant one at most. There isn’t anything backed behind it as he dares to look over at him, attempting to glare and landing on an expression he doesn’t want to know anything about in case it ends up looking so terribly wanton.

“You can go shirtless, that’s not like a new thing between us, Schlatt.”

Schlatt despises the way his stomach twists into these knots of vines that trap in thousands of butterflies, shaking him up with a rock in his throat that clogs the words of reason from coming out. Because Ted is right, of course, they both have seen one another shirtless. The thing that sticks is Ted said us. Which makes Schlatt wilt with embarrassment because it feels juvenile to care about a single word so much.

or, it's hot as hell in the hotel room and Ted keeps telling Schlatt that he is his waterboy

In all honesty, the summer heat isn't that bad.

He's experienced worse, Ted has, the whole state has, really.

But it is most certainly not good. It's at the point where Schlatt sweats no matter where he stands in the hotel they booked a day ago in a state where it was supposedly more cool, one where not having an aircon was mostly alright considering it didn't seem like some heat wave was about to strike anytime soon-

Which, about that, him and Ted were wrong there. Because now they're stuck in a stuffy hotel. He knows they leave tomorrow anyways, so he won't be suffering for that long. But here he can't help but feel like each five minutes stretches into half an hour as he plops back down on the fold out bed, not having bothered to shift it back into its original couch position just yet. He has one of those useless plastic hand fans, if that's what they're called. Something similar, he bets, even if the product name should be more like shit fan that doesn't do shit.

Surely the honesty in their branding would attract an audience before parents and a bunch of other people get mad about a bad word.

Who knows, Schlatt sure doesn't.

What he does know, of course, is how absurdly hot it is in here. Unfortunately, though, there isn't even a slight hint of a breeze outside, so it's even worse out there where he can't escape direct daylight.

So he and Ted linger about in the hotel room. At least they've got water that has the decency to be a smidge bit refreshing. It only lasts so long though, as Schlatt gulps some down and feels the very faint coolness of the liquid travel down his throat before disappearing within under three seconds.

"This sucks," He complains, slamming the paper cup onto the nightstand and reaching for the remote. Ted scoffs from where he's wiping his face with his shirt, propped on the actual bed, face just as flushed as Schlatt's.

"Ya don't say, captain obvious?"

Schlatt grimaces at the response, blinking away from Ted when a flash of stomach catches Schlatt's eye. But then Ted gives up on trying to remove the sweat from his face, and his shirt is back on properly, so Schlatt can look back at him to make sure Ted sees the way he's glaring at him.

Ted just shrugs at him, glancing over at the television with a heavy sigh. "I don't think the Spanish version of any Disney movie is gonna make us feel any better, Schlatt."

Schlatt doesn't comment on that, Spanish getting drowned out in his ears like he's got cotton wads stuffed in them. He has a raging headache, and despite all of the water he's been drinking, it just doesn't seem to give him any grace.

He dips a finger to hook the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling it further from his skin and readjusting it for the millionth time. Next, he grabs a bit of the fabric and tries to fan himself, hoping that the movement will cool him off even a little bit.

Of course, it isn't much use and Ted just frowns at him.

"What might help, though, is if you weren't wearing such a thick fucking sweater, idiot," Ted says dismissively, throwing himself back onto the bed and flipping over the pillow. He presses his face against it, checking if it's been chilled, and he makes a sound of disappointment before waving Schlatt away. "I told you to change like an hour ago."

Schlatt grunts, he knows it's stupid. He doesn't take any action to change, though, and switches the channel, watching some sort of Impractical Joker's challenge play out before them.

He's not even half-watching it. He can't.

Not with the heat, it burns through to his brain and makes it all mushy so he doesn't even have the energy to really focus on the show and actually comprehend what is happening. And also maybe a little bit because of Ted.

He knows they've been travelling together just the two of them for at least three days now, but despite the whole length of it, Schlatt has yet to get used to it. The proximity, the privacy, the little bubble where just the two of them exist.

Sadly, it's really starting to make it hard to fight the attraction he's been harbouring for his dear friend Ted.

So yeah, where he could be putting attention on the show, he instead is placing it on Ted, silently observing as the man sits back up properly on the bed.

"Wish this place had a pool- shit," Schlatt curses, accidentally knocking off his useless fan down to the ground. He rubs at his forehead with his sleeve, sweaty and sad, then bends to pick it up.

"Or air conditioning," Ted supplies, adding to the lists of things they can continue to dream of. In the end, Schlatt knows they'll live, he knows they won't have to endure this same pain tomorrow when they're driving in the car, air on or windows down, chugging down all the cold drinks they want after charging into the nearest gas station.

Schlatt tries to think about it, coming to the conclusion that if he thinks of not being boiled alive enough, his body will start to disregard the heat's effects, thus making him better.

It doesn't work, though, and Schlatt groans heavily, forcing himself to get up and trudge over to the sink.

Ted picks up on the movement and sighs. "Get me some water too, then?"

"Get it yourself," Schlatt says tiredly and Ted shifts around on the bed from behind Schlatt.

"Dude, come on." Ted persists, however. "Please, Schlatt."

The crazy hot weather has left Schlatt weak and easy, so he grabs another cup. "Screw you."

"Thanks," Ted mumbles distantly and after Schlatt hands it to him, he takes a sip before frowning at the other as Schlatt settles himself next to Ted, sitting down on the bed. "Wish the water in the shower wasn't stuck warm, it'd be a nice way to cool down."

"Keep wishin', Ted."

Ted's glance slides up and down Schlatt's face smoothly, a subtle thing, expression shifting before he tilts his head away and downs the rest of the water. "You're very pink. Red even."

"Who would've thought," Schlatt comments sarcastically, elbows digging into his knees after he sets the cup down on the bed's respective nightstand. He keeps his eyes trained on the ground when he realizes yeah, actually, he's just casually here on the same bed as Ted. Which is a silly thought that comes to him, something that shouldn't mean too much, but he's Schlatt and that's Ted right next to him. So to Schlatt, it has value, it's enough for him to make sure to be composed.

"You gotta change, man," Ted says simply and Schlatt shrugs, the heat weighing down his movements as his hands slap onto his sides.

"I've got it, man ," Schlatt says, a strange attempt at dismissing the person sitting right next to him that his brain is currently situated on during this hellish temperature ring of exhaustion. Components of his serenity and connectedness get set up in a boxing match, and it seems his mind makes sure to pay attention to who loses to the heat, then strips him of proper functions. Which is maybe why he nearly zones out, parts of him turning offline.

Of course, it's Ted that makes him focus back in before he can really step out, and he snaps his head over at Ted with a hum and a raised eyebrow.

"I kinda need more water, Schlatt," He says with a shrug and Schlatt scoffs, nose scrunching before he scoots back on the bed so his feet can't touch the floor, and he ever so slightly angles his body towards Ted. Something about secret attraction and hidden admiration, all the whatnots. Still, though, he's offended despite how stupidly charming Ted looks at times.

"What? No."

"Schlatt," Ted tries and Schlatt crosses his arms with a firm shake of his head, a strong denial that makes Ted groan.

"I'm not just some water boy, yknow," Schlatt comments to which Ted simply frowns in disagreement, holding a finger pointed towards Schlatt. When he leans forward to place a hand on Schlatt's shoulder, it admittedly does make Schlatt's stomach flop one time. Overall, though, Schlatt is surely alright.

"Duh, you're my waterboy," Ted explains to ruin it all, plopping a hand on on Schlatt's thigh, leaving the little cup there.

His cheeks are already flushed from the excruciating heat, they can't possibly warm up any further. Yet Schlatt still has the capacity to at least feel like he's blushing despite the disappointment that comes from the label of 'waterboy', the ‘my’ is what actually saves it, Schlatt thinks. It's what actually has his lips parting a little like an idiot while he looks down at Ted's hand, then back at Ted in such an unsubtle manner.

He forces out a scoff-like noise. More adjacent to something more abstract, but that's alright because he pairs it with the roll of his eyes, sending the correct message across the board. Or bed. Across the bed.

But not even, not really, because Ted is sitting right next to him and when he shifts on the bed, Schlatt can feel their shoulders brush.

Schlatt is so stupid, he internally curses that to himself over and over as he quickly looks away from Ted, in need of something to distract him- just something that will pull him away from this horrible, horrible weather and even worse circumstance where his little dumb attraction is only being fed like a pig with how Ted's eyes flicker up and down Schlatt's face who catches it in the side of his view.

So he folds, daring to face Ted and wondering since when were their faces this close.

Ted's got a pink face and lips that are relaxed, unsealed, just enough for Schlatt to notice and get hung up about it.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know if he could say anything without the risk of his voice coming out all weathered, suffering from desire.

It’s a good thing, then, when Ted takes the lead.

“Schlatt,” He says and his voice is low, it’s whispered with firmness, a confidence in his voice that Schlatt thinks he will fail to find with any assistance from his lungs whatsoever. “Water?”

Oh, what the fuck. Schlatt’s lips pull downwards a little, a smidge bit sour, and he swallows heavily like it’ll make it easer to look away from almost everything he wants, he wants it all minus the waterboy role, of course. “Screw your damn, water, Ted. Get it yourself.”

“You’re sweating,” Ted states like a fucking idiot, making Schlatt throw his hands out dramatically.

“Uh, yeah, aren’t we both? Aren’t most people in the damn building under the same heat?”

“Okay, but you’re terrible. It’s worse,” Ted argues, tilting his head up and shifting his hand back into his own space which Schlatt silently mourns.

Because Ted carries a different type of warmth that is outside of this suffering heat, it’s much better than the current weather that makes him feel like he got stuck inside a crock pot. Ted offers something bearable, something Schlatt actually wants around him, and something he hasn’t nearly gotten enough of.

“I- all my t-shirts are dirty as hell, Ted.”

“Think that’s your fault,” Ted says, referencing the ideas of fun that Schlatt had suggested for this little travel tip of theirs, most of which consisted of being outdoor where the dirt falls into the tiniest of particles in the fabric of your shirt and leaves it dusty when Schlatt shakes it and all uncomfy to wear.

Of course he managed to make another pair of shoes, yet somehow missed the mark when it came to tops to wear that didn’t help maintain heat on the inside.

“You can go shirtless, that’s not like a new thing between us, Schlatt.”

Schlatt despises the way his stomach twists into these knots of vines that trap in thousands of butterflies, shaking him up with a rock in his throat that clogs the words of reason from coming out. Because Ted is right, of course, they both have seen one another shirtless. The thing that sticks is Ted said us . Which makes Schlatt wilt with embarrassment because it feels juvenile to care about a single word so much.

Ted has said that before. He thinks. Schlatt’s pretty dang sure. And he’s pretty sure almost every time it has the same end result where Schlatt is biting his cheek and mentally clutching his chest where his heart is, blinking over at Ted like a lovesick character portrayed in a cartoon.

“I-”

But Ted’s already cutting him off, shifting towards him, couple of fingers casually slipping from his thigh like it was an accident. Who knows, Schlatt doesn’t read into it, he leans into it.

“As my waterboy, I need you to not be dying from the heat so you can bring my refreshments.”

“But I’m not your waterboy,” Schlatt defends, voice pinching somewhere in the plea of denial because of the ridiculous possession that comes with all of the bullshit they’re talking about right now. He promises he’s actually not a waterboy for anyone. He just happens to be there when Ted wants a drink, and well, maybe he doesn’t always say no.

“If I was, I’d think I’d deserve a little please and thank you here and there, Ted,” Schlatt concludes, scrunching his nose with this snort sound that clings at the back of his throat, cut off because Ted’s hand is close, his eyes are attentive, and dangit Ted’s lips are so obnoxiously distracting.

So much so Schlatt’s view is just a little obscured, something like tunnel vision and whatnot, that his brain lags when it tries to take in other information about his surroundings and actually process it.

Naturally, that’s when Ted does something unexpected, sending Schlatt’s heart to thump all the way to the roof of his mouth, making him gasp a little as one of Ted’s hands pinches the fabric of Schlatt’s sweater, material never lifting to reveal skin, but it’s departed from where it kept his skin boiling a little bit more.

“Please?” Ted asks, because of course now he can find his manners.Schlatt is fumbling for a coherent thought as Ted looks at him. Meanwhile, inside the mind, everything is being flipped upside down as Schlatt almost swallows, a ridiculously childish feeling of being flustered approaching him within a flash.

“ Ted ,” He warns, an empty threat with no meaning, no target or aim, and nothing to land on. But it’s breathless and it’s been said, so he tries to fix up his voice, get something more steady and stern in there, and it comes just as he is, all thrown off guard because oh fuck- . “You- okay , so you just wanna see me shirtless, that’s-”

Ted blinks at him, patient yet clearly eager enough for it, and there’s a loud thump that rings about in Schlatt’s skull, echoing loudly with waves that carry some good heat, frying his brain even further than the hotel room temperature has, and his fingertips feel fuzzy and insistent, ready to just move or do anything really, Schlatt biting his cheeks with a heavy breath before-

Well before he nods yes.

“Thanks,” Ted adds for good measure and Schlatt wants to be annoyed about it, for sure, but can’t when his top is starting to be discarded now.

There is a faint feeling of relief when the fabric is lifted up and away from his body, the air- however warm it is currently, still carries less heat than what was trapped between him and his clothes, so it’s at least nice enough.

What really sells it is when Ted’s knuckles graze across Schlatt’s ribcage, skin to skin contact that makes him buzz.

He takes in a deep breath, not even bothering at the moment to take in the full scale of what exactly has just happened- what’s happening as Ted moves towards him, another hand reaching for him, one he eyes and just wants already on him.

Instead he focuses in on the now, deciding whatever happens, he rolls with it. He watches the hold Ted has on the fabric of his shirt, firm however loose, delicate almost. And he imagines that hold maybe on his wrist, on his hip, all with added pressure.

The second hand Ted’s got, however, doesn’t find Schlatt’s body, it only assist to take his sweater off and he catches Ted’s eyes with his own before it’s lifted up over his head, his arms dropping back down carelessly because Ted’s face is intoxicatingly close.

“This-” Schlatt gestures between them, it doesn’t matter if Ted actually sees it or not. “Is new.”

Ted pauses, admitting to it but only with a small shrug, a smile pulling at his lips. “A bit,” He says. “It’s good to try new things once in a while, though.” He offers and Schlatt wants to cringe at it and make fun of him. But Ted’s got a look in eyes full of something Schlatt absolutely needs to get, so instead he lets Ted press into his space and finally place a hand flat across his stomach.

Ted does this with a lazy descent towards the span of Schlatt’s throat, rounding it to breathe out underneath his ear, words on the tip of his tongue, yet ultimately he swallows them, choosing to press an open mouth kiss there instead.

And okay, this is really what they’re doing. Desire stirs in Schlatt’s chest, little done just watching Ted and a little more wanting to actually be active here. So Schlatt tugs at Ted’s shoulders, urging him closer, all before letting his hands slide down Ted’s clothed back.

There’s an obnoxious taste of something so incredibly intimate, which Schlatt has known has been there the whole time, on the back burner. Beforehand, he thought he may be the only one keeping it alive, all lit with the stupid amount of yearning he holds for Ted. Turns out being stuck in this stuffy, crappy, and hot room in some just below decent hotel will bring out Ted’s burning candle too.

Here, Ted pushes Schlatt into the corner of the bed, where Schlatt can crane his neck and look into the space between the mattress and the wall, no headboard to bump his head against as he scoots himself up. They might make a bit of a mess of the cover of the bed, Schlatt bending his legs, allowing space in between them for Ted to reside but only after Schlatt manages to slip him out of his own shirt.

There’s a window right above the bed, stretching across its length, and Schlatt forgets to have the thought to perhaps close it all the way, and maybe it’s partially due to the way the light spills in from the minimal opening, curtains not fully drawn, and flaking across Ted’s hair, dipping down his jawline, and gliding across the curves of his body.

Schlatt takes as much of it in, saving it for the brain and all- as possible before Ted’s grabbing his thighs, moving Schlatt a bit more towards him with the way he hikes them up, like he needs them to barricade, and watches Schlatt’s big basketball shorts ride back some, revealing lots more bare skin.

Schlatt sorta huffs out an amused laugh at the look on Ted’s face, who is raking his eyes all over his body, observing a mountain of gold he’s trying to figure out how to spend.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re doing,” Schlatt says, to be honest he doesn’t either, but he really likes it. The flush of Ted’s face hints to Schlatt he does too, as well as the way Ted flashes him a smile, a breathy laugh, then trails his hand down.

“Do now,” He hums instead, attempting to test Schlatt’s patience with the way he hoveres his fingers around the band of his stupid shorts. Schlatt hooks his legs round Ted’s neck, ankles clipped, as Ted’s other hand presses down on his thigh, desperate to grab, covering the Nike logo and pulling his shorts down.

Schlatt mentally holds his breath, outwards he lets out a sigh because Ted is easing him back into the bed, melting into it due to the temperature, but it’s refreshingly new to watch Ted undress him. So he stays afloat and doesn’t drown in heat, stripped of clothing and blinking with blush and a pounding heart as Ted takes his cock in his hand.

He sucks in sharply, preparing himself for the feeling, and his lashes flutter, all like a dumb love bird when he looks up to meet Ted’s gaze, the eye contact pulling a very strong string somewhere deep in his chest, one that strums whenever he swoons after Ted like a schoolgirl or something.

But Ted’s eyes carry something of the same, so very, very familiar. Like a mirror, and he bends Schlatt a little more, moving forward himself just to land a kiss on the span of his stomach, muscles nearly twitching underneath the soft, dashing sensation of his lips against his bare skin, all just as he runs his thumb along Schlatt’s length, a slow but intentional movement, starting to actually jerk him off.

It’s dirty and stupid hot in here, yet the amount of exceeding sensual and virtually heartfelt emotions is starting to reach staggering levels, because Ted is touching him with purpose and looking at him like he’s all he’s ever really wanted.

Schlatt’s brain is fried, of course, but there’s functioning parts that try to tell him this is a friends with benefits type of hook up, this one time thing they may never mention again. Even with the way Ted moves his wrist, fingers wrapped around Schlatt’s dick, making a weighted moan slip past his lips finally, Ted’s mouth travelling a little up and up, till Schlatt feels even more warmth concentrate around his chest. Then Ted’s got his lips puckered right below where Schlatt’s right nipple is, on Ted’s left. He startles just a tiny bit before he’s sent into a full moment of surprise when tongue slides up his skin, burning like a branding iron.

And yeah, Schlatt arches his back towards it, not even thinking to do so but it happens anywhere because the crumbling parts of him are eager and needy to indulge in this nonsense, letting out a choked sound with Ted’s mouth on him, and Ted’s hands around him, Ted’s eyes on him, Ted’s thumb pressing down to smother pre and really make Schlatt’s world tilt on its side.

“ Ted ,” He warns, not a bit of conviction in his voice, it’s too weathered and gone, gone, and absolutely entranced. He doesn’t know what he’s even warning Ted of. That he’s too good? That he needs this to last forever so he better not end it so quickly?

Schlatt has no idea, but he sends a short glare over at Ted for a split second, looking down at the mess of hair, glasses peeking out underneath as Ted looks up at him, curious on what the call of his name was for and really, Schlatt supposes there is no reason.

So he just rocks his hips into Ted’s hand, clenching his hands, mind scrambling to find anything else to say. His brain supplies with pretty much nothing but the obvious, too preoccupied with the various input and output of feeling. “We’re in a shitty hotel room right now, yknow?”

Ted’s shoulders slack a little, but he doesn’t falter with his hands, making Schlatt look away for a moment, lips parting as he waits for Ted’s response.

“That a major issue, Schlatt?” He asks, a little genuine but he’s still trying to tease. Schlatt sets out to find an answer, tongue pressed to his cheek and face turned to the side before all thoughts sorta die down for at least a prolonged moment due to how Ted’s hand strokes him each time with dedication, focused on bringing him to the edge, Ted mouthing at his skin, breath fanning across before Schlatt grows even more familiar with the texture of tongue.

“I-” He clears his throat, voice lost a little and he tries to focus real hard. “Maybe,” He croaks out instead, deciding that’s all the effort he’s gotta put in for it to count for something, and lets Ted do the rest of the thinking, listening to the other man hum for a moment in thought.

“Next time we’ll be more luxurious, then,” Ted says, almost casually, but Schlatt can sense the pinch of nervousness in it, because he’s proposing something a bit big here, something that hangs above Schlatt's head too. So of course he can recognize it in Ted, a little bit curious about if this will ever happen again.

Ted’s asking for it, Schlatt really wants it, and there’s a small urgency in Ted’s words that shows he has some hesitations about asking because he may not fully know whether Schlatt is up for it at all.

Obviously, he very much is, nodding his head a couple of times and hitching down, trying to essentially rut into the other man’s hands.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, just for a verbalized agreement, if Ted couldn’t already pick that up, and he squeezes his legs around Ted. “Come on, Ted.”

It’s not begging, exactly, Schlatt would like to argue it’s not close. Even if his voice wavers, desperation peeking out through the cracks and relying on Ted to find it in himself to give Schlatt what he wants.

And with how quickly Ted gives it to him, picking up the pace, hand on his dick with a mission, even- Schlatt stumbles down a steep hill to the finish line, hands fisted into the sheets when he comes with a ever so slightly strangled groan, never expecting it to happen that fast and worn down from the weather and lack of air conditioning.

He spills, all over Ted’s hand in fact, and doesn’t have the brain capacity to feel embarrassed about any bit of it when he’s gasping, fingertips still drifting across his dick, knuckles bent around his shape, carrying him through it to the point where it stings a little here and there, perhaps too much, and he winces, past the fill point, and drops back onto the bed.

“There,” Ted says, and he sounds so terribly satisfied, like the guy is proud, even, and Schlatt has energy left to roll his eyes at him even though his heartbeat thumps loud in his ear, rapid and hyped before it can even start to slow down. Ted is pulling his hands back, even his face, lips red and Schlatt’s legs dropping back on the bed.

“I think I’ve been waiting for that for some time.” Schlatt confesses, for no reason except maybe the color in Ted’s eyes and the pull behind them that carries Schlatt towards Ted like a cartoon character floating towards a delicious pie, tempted beyond anything else and more than alright with it.

“I’ve been hoping for it.” Ted shoots back easily, earnest, and sure, a little endearing. It shoves Shlatt’s heart up into his throat, a sore lump that leaves him speechless and stuck for a moment, eyeing the other carefully with a silent invitation.

In all honesty, they needs to clean themselves up and think about what just happened, and talk about it, but instead Schlatt’s welcoming a kiss as Ted crowds him, hovering on top of him, chest pressing down to Schlatt’s lower stomach, and eyes falling shut when lips press against one another.

Apparently, everything has lesser importance than making out with Ted and tracing fingers down the dip of his back. Of course, nothing is as crucially needed than the feeling of another body against Schlatt’s own, losing his breath and failing to decipher where they’re separate, all connected anyways in a blur of simmering emotions they’ll address sometime after, not too long from now.

Once number one priority eventually passes.

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