#love when the holiday's fall on tuesday

[luminies]

i only go back to work on wednesday💞💞

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow

Join the tag list here!

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

I've also seen a lot of people asking for 6/7th year jily so I tried to include some. These fics explore how much they've grown in that period between the end of school and the rising tensions of war.

Of course, I've also included fics with marauders shenanigans. As always, these fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

Death and Other Inconveniences by @asteriaem

When James Potter disappeared for ten days in the middle of the spring term of their fifth year, the whole school noticed. He buried his parents in a quiet ceremony and returned to school amid outrageous rumours.

When Lily Evans disappeared for three days before the Christmas holidays in sixth year, two people noticed. She found the house packed, a nasty note from her sister, and spent the rest of the holidays sleeping rough. Both are left grieving and angry at Hogwarts over the summer, with no where else to go and war raging around them. Really, how else could it have gone?

God where do I even start? This fic is incredibly well written; everything from how well-rounded and dynamic all the characters are to the dialogue and descriptions. For everyone tired of character deformation and would like to read a long-form that explores the turbulence of adolescence coupled with grief and the uncertainties of war this fic is for you. When I say I miss old jily, I mean this exact era of characterisation.

Notes by @scriibble-fics

On an ordinary Tuesday in October of 1975, James Potter passes Lily Evans a note. She has no way of knowing it, of course, but it’s the first note of thousands that will pass between them in the years to come.

Head of House by SwissCheesePlant

The consequences of Sirius and James pretending to be boyfriends weren't supposed to come to a head during a convoluted and unnecessarily kinetic drinking game... but such is life.

As If By Magic by @annabtg

Lily Evans, Head Girl, is starting her seventh year at Hogwarts. Alongside her, Head Boy James Potter, who has always had a crush on her yet has given up all hope of winning her over. But between working together, sharing fun times with friends and getting through the darker moments that come with living in an era of war, things between them are bound to change...

Questions and Answers by lizardcookie (on ao3)

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer (seventh Year jily).

Come Together by @thequibblah

It’s difficult to say when James and Lily took the first steps to love. Perhaps they had always been walking this road, unaware of the person they were walking towards until the mist cleared. They would fall in love eventually — but we would be remiss in ignoring the hiccups along the way.

Okay so confession, I haven’t read this but it's been on my TBR for ages and everyone's been recommending me to read it. Judging by other works by the same author that I have read, I can attest that Lily and James have always been well-written so I trust that this fic is no exception.

These next few fics are all by @gigglesandfreckles-hp because Abi's characterisations are perfect and there’s just something about her writing that transports me to the scene. This woman can make me laugh and cry and worry all in under three thousand words.

roots of memory

Lily frowns slightly, mulling it over. “I’m not really sure either,” she admits. “Honestly, don’t take this personally, but I don’t remember much about you in the first couple of years. I think I was too focused on trying to figure out school and magic and everything else.”

James clutches his chest in mock offence. “I’ll act like that didn’t just irreparably damage my soul.”

crafting chemistry

“Is there something that needs to be discussed between the three of us?” Minerva prompts, her eyes narrowing sharply.

Lily’s face betrays her first. A bright flush creeps slowly along her cheeks, blooming from her neck upward, as though her skin can’t hide the emotion simmering underneath. She keeps her eyes stubbornly trained on the far corner of the office, anywhere but James. Minerva notices James’s hand, the one that had been habitually running through his hair, freeze mid-motion, his fingers tightening slightly.

but we dream in the light (a continuation of one of my favourite fics)

“Lily Evans, we have got to stop meeting like this,” he grins.

She shakes her head, laughing. “Jesus Christ.”

James spins around dramatically. “Where?”

the dance of mischief and duty

Lily Evans is an infuriating mosaic of traits—beautiful and she knows it, captain of the House Quidditch team, and the loudest voice in nearly any room. She has this way of floating through the school, her laughter ringing out as she moves between corridors and classes, one arm usually slung around Sirius Black’s shoulder and the other gesticulating wildly as she spins tales of misadventure.

But she also sort of has a point, and that’s possibly the most infuriating part about her.

prompt: flip the script

my church offers no absolutes

She stares at him, her eyes the only ones open as the priest prays, but she can’t look away.

James Potter is here.

under the influence of loss

“Like what? You fancy me! Kiss me.”

Each time she says it, it’s like a new bruise blooms around his heart, her words pressing on all of them at once.

“I can’t!” he shouts, the frustration cracking through.

“Because I’ve been drinking?” she demands, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Your chivalry is duly noted, Potter, but I’m giving you a pass here. Just—”

“It’s not about that,” he interrupts.

You know what they say, you can tell who an author's favourite character is by how much they make them suffer

From the Edge by @maraudersftw

A three-hour-long detention. A barrage of unspilled words. A kiss that has remained unacknowledged. Until now.

That Summer by the_casual_author (on ao3)

In which James and Lily spend the summer in a house by the sea. (and fall in love in the process)

pleasant, poised, polite, professional by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily Evans' journalism career is stagnating, and when Mumblemumps sweeps through the office, she couldn't be less pleased to be asked to cover the sports beat. James Potter, the captain of the Wimborne Wasps who is campaigning to win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile, only seems to confirm her worst fears about athletes. Until.

If you enjoyed James' characterisation in James Potter Won't Go Quietly then you'll enjoy this

Fantasise also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

When Lily ends up taking Veritaserum as part of one of Sirius' games, James finds that he really doesn't need to know any of the nitty-gritty details. Fate has other plans.

And James Potter also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

The most unfortunate part about being one of the best students in the year, if you ask Lily Evans, is being forced to work alongside James Potter. The most fortunate part about being one of the best students in the year, if you ask James Potter, is getting opportunities to annoy Lily Evans. The fact of the matter is, that despite their both being talented, intelligent students with bright futures and burning competitive streaks, Lily and James will never get along. No matter how much others think they ought to.

Braid also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

Sick and tired of revision, Lily gladly takes a distraction in the name of giving James Potter a helping hand.

Revenge Tastes Sweeter by @charmsandtealeaves

This by far had to be one of the more stupid things that Lily Evans had ever agreed to, and she’d gone along with a lot of her friends' bullshit ideas. She’d wanted to maintain her dignity in breaking up with her shit of an ex-boyfriend. However, fake dating James Potter hadn’t been in her grand plan of dignity. She’d merely been venting her frustrations to her dorm mates in the common room, she hadn’t expected advice and well… plotting. Though she should have expected better, these lot were always plotting something. Was it too late to just go with Dorcas’ “Stab him!” suggestion?

Simmer Until Ready by @kay-elle-cee

James Potter is not a healer. His is a potioneer—the Order of the Phoenix's lead potioneer, in fact. So when their top field fighter—Lily Evans—comes to him for treatment after a particularly rough mission, he helps the best way he knows how: a vial of freshly-brewed Skele-Gro and a dose of laughter.

Kels always writes the best order!jily

climb higher by penniesinthepool (on ao3)

It's been three (long) years since Lily and James have seen each other. Now, he's living out his dream playing Quidditch with Puddlemere United and she hers as an Auror.

They're happy. But fate (and annoying friends) works in funny ways, sometimes, and through a series of chance meetings, they begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they could be happier. My take on what would maybe happen in a universe where James wasn't Head Boy, taken to the extreme.

after O.W.L.s by @juniperpyre

a short snippet of James Potter's and Lily Evans' thoughts after their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., and before the altercation with Severus Snape changes everything.

It was so close to going a better way

Haley's characterisations are always on point

”Just” Partners by @petalsthefish

James asks Lily what they are after a series of long and hidden snogs in dark corridors.

tied to you by @jjameslily

Lily’s foot sank into the damp earth as she stepped closer to the water’s edge. The lake mirrored the starry sky above, but something else caught her eye – a shape in the reflection.

James my sweet summer child, thank you for looking after her

Love for the Summer by @missgryffin

It's the summer after sixth year, Lily Evans is realizing she fancies James Potter, and James has Sirius Black's motorbike to thank for getting Lily out of the friend zone.

of hearts and keys by the_crownless_queen (on ao3)

In a world where magic means everyone can see your soul, Lily Evans wonders what it would feel like for someone she loves to open her heart.

Seven Years and Seventy More by surlybobbies (on ao3)

When James walked into the 7th year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory a few moonstruck minutes later, he found Sirius lying in bed with his hands folded across his stomach. “Been with Evans, then?” he asked, without lifting his head. There was a distinct note of disapproval in his voice.

James froze in the act of unwinding the scarf from his neck. “Er, yeah.”

“She doing well?” Remus asked from his bed, the closest one to the door. He had a book open on his lap but had lifted his gaze when James came in. His stare was steady and pleasant, but there was a sharpness behind it that put James on the defensive.

(James has some news.)

This Town Is Fake But You're The Real Thing by @tedwardremus

Teen radio star Lily Evans works for a show on the wizarding wireless network called, The Marauders. The teen soap drama stars James Potter as an arrogant school jock and centers on the secret adventures of his friends in the forbidden forest as illegal animagus and a werewolf. The show's antagonist, played by Severus Snape, left after a scandal, and now Lily has a romantic storyline with James in the final season of the show. Basically, her life is a disaster.

Prophecy by Alohaemora (on ao3)

Faint rays of sunlight began to filter into the nursery from the pink-red sky outside, the morning song of robins and thrushes lilting as all of Sirius's worst fears manifested before him, devastating in their might.

"Fuck," he whispered. A horrible, painful lump swelled in his throat, clawing, stinging. "Fucking hell."

The corners of Lily's lips trembled. "James didn't know how to tell you."

Not quite a jily fic but I wanted to share

not as smart as you think you are (or how to fall in love in 7 months) by Squidge_06 (on ao3)

Lily Evans has spent the past 6 years excelling at school and hating James Potter. Both these facts converge suddenly at the beginning of her 7th year when she’s confronted with a less than perfect grade and a Transfiguration tutor who is the very last person she wants to see.

That same person might just turn out to be a whole lot more complicated and just a little more wonderful than she could ever have imagined.

Meeting the Potters by FloreatCastellum (on ao3)

It's always a risk, introducing your parents to your girlfriend. Most people don't have to worry about whether or not their mother is going to be in handcuffs, though.

Mistle-Wow by LiveLaughLoveToRead (on ao3)

Lily and James Potters’ love was fiery, filled with passion, tragedy, and love. It was not a fast ignition of a flame that proceeded to burn bright. No, it was a flame that was lit on the Hogwarts Express before anyone had joined the compartment. It burned brighter as their years progressed, and it was lit ablaze in their seventh year. It burned until the day they died.

Or an incident that would have had Madam Pince seething (if they were caught)

Simple Math by yallofthemwitches (on ao3)

Remus notices something is off about James and Lily at the Prefect's meeting.

[flowerbunnyboo]

YOU AND ME | back

starring: jake x male reader

summary: Jake is in love with his roommate and he wants to confess but something or another keeps interrupting him from doing it

fluff

It was a tiring Tuesday morning for the two roommates, Mn and Jake. The two of them had a day off for that day from everything. Jake had gotten a goldfish from his work and so had Mn. They had a late night the night before where they ended watching movies and playing cards. Jake and Mn were very tired and had decided to sleep in for a bit.

Mn was fast asleep in his room as his boys had given up. Coming home from work the day before and then doing all those late night shenanigans with Jake, just tired out his body. His room was silent as only soft snores could be heard.

However, his roommate, Jake was wide and awake. Jake couldn’t sleep the whole night because of his events of last night with Mn. The two had never spent such an intimate time with each other for a very long time.

It was quite special for Jake as he had a massive crush on his roommate. Mn and Jake had been roommate for nearly three years and the two had developed a bond. For Jake, this bond was of love.

The apartment they lived in was actually Jake’s uncles and he was looking for roommates. That’s when Mn came into the scene as Jake’s roommate. The first time Jake laid his eyes on Mn, he was in love. He didn’t even ask Mn any questions and readily accepted him as his roommate. However, little did he know that Mn was a very busy guy.

Jake had assumed that him and Mn would become boyfriends but he was wrong. Mn had a very busy lifestyle which made it impossible for Jake to even spend some time with him. The two only spent mornings together with each other but that time was spent on making breakfast and nothing else.

And at night, Jake used to come home first while Mn used to come home late. Jake used to always be a bit disappointed as he had no time spent with Mn. But that did not change his love for Mn. He knew Mn was the one for him and he was going to make him his.

Jake was all giddy as he woke up and realised that it was a holiday for him and Mn. “Finally I’ll spend the day with him!”, Jake said to himself as he got up and went to his bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. He finally had gotten the opportunity and he was going to spend the day with Mn and confess to him. Even if he were to get rejected, atleast he would get his piece of mind.

The excited boy got all dressed up and went to knock on Mn’s door. “Mn ? Mn ? Mn ?”, Jake knocked thrice imitating Sheldon Cooper. Jake chuckled at his own silliness but frowned when he realised that Mn was still asleep.

He didn’t want to invade his roommate’s privacy so he just left it like that and went back to his room saddened. Jake wanted to cry but he knew it was futile. “I can talk to him later on”, and with that Jake bounced back on his bed with his head on the pillow unknowingly falling asleep.

…

Hours had passed by and Jake woke up when he suddenly felt his phone ring. The boy groaned in tiredness and yawned to let out his breath. Groggily he opened his eyes and checked the time on his phone. ‘5:00 pm’ “5:00 PM!?”, Jake got up shocked at the time. He looked around to make sure that it was the right time and stared at his clock.

“Shit! It’s five !”, he exclaimed with surprise. Jake realised his stupidity and went out his room. He saw Mn’s room being open so he decided to check in but his roommate was nowhere to be found. “Mn ? Mn ?”, Jake called out for his roommate but to no avail. He frustratedly groaned as he realised he had spent an entire day sleeping and now Mn was gone out again.

“Why did I sleep for so long !?”, Jake complained as he sat on the sofa. He had lost his chance to confess and now it would be the same routine again.

Jake decided to eat something to pacify his sadness before going back to his room to play some games. He had no other choice than wait for Mn to come back home. Jake was determined to confess, and he was going to do it.

…

Soon enough, night fell and it was now 11: pm. Jake checked the time on eve again on his watch as he paved around the living room waiting for his roommate and crush to return. Jake knew he had to wait, and he was ready to wait. But he was just hoping that Mn wouldn’t be tired when he comes back. It would be very difficult for him to confess.

As Jake was circling around in his thoughts, the door opened revealing a smiling Mn who had just come home from a long day of socialising. “Look who finally woke up!”, Mn said looking at Jake and chucking a bit.

Jake forgot all his nervousness once he heard Mn’s laugh. It was like honey for his ears. He gave his stupid smile at Mn’s comment and laughed along. “Yeah I know. I guess I was just tired. Also where are you coming from ? It looks like you had a fun time”, Jake questioned as Mn removed his boots and hung his coat, freshening up himself.

“I was going to spend the day with you but you just wouldn’t wake up so I decided to go hang out with my friends”, Mn replied as he sat down on the couch.

Jake followed him and sat on the single couch. Hearing Mn’s reply made Jake feel even more stupid. Mn looked at Jake who was looking a bit guilty and felt sorry for him. “We can still spend the night like yesterday, if you want”, Mn said pulling Jake out of his thoughts.

Jake’s face lit up as bright as fireworks in the sky. Jake nodded making Mn chuckle. “I’ll go get cards!”, Jake said as he got up and headed to his room. But something stopped him in the middle. ‘Wait. I must confess now. If we keep playing cards we won’t even get to talk that much’.

Mn noticed Jake just standing, deep in his thoughts. “What happened Jake ?”, the shorter questioned. Jake returned back to the couch and sat right next to Mn. “I actually have something to say before we play cards”, Jake said making Mn nervous at Jake’s serious tone. He nodded allowing Jake to continue.

Jake shyly took Mn’s hands in his and stared at Mn’s beautiful eyes. “ I like you Mn. I have liked you..no.. I have fallen in love with you, ever since you became my roommate. Will you be my boyfriend ?”, Jake finally confessed. Mn let out a sigh of relief.

“Finally you asked me out. I was waiting for you to do it”, Mn said as he got up and sat on Jake’s lap. Jake was so confused with what had happened.

“Wait..what ? You like me back ?”, Jake asked the boy in his laps. Mn nodded and turned to Jake. “I too love you you dummy!”, Mn said making Jake smile from ear to ear. Jake leaned in and bumped their heads together as the two closed their eyes.

“I love you Jake” “I love you too Mn”

©️ flowerbunnyboo 2024. all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or reshare without my permission and credit

[rowretro]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚���'𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮

(thank this song for my return sober<3 and ofc riki!!!)

✧Warnings: Nothing I know of- tell me if there's any warnings

✧Synopsis: Having a crush on someone can stir up your emotions, one moment, bubbling with love, feeling stupid the next, mind invaded with that person, love signals everywhere, it would feel as though you're in a music video. Y/n is almost convinced he's the one, though she didn't think to ask for his name, she's to shy, after all he's way out of her league. Little did she know, Riki too felt the same, Too shy to approach her.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Y/n waited patiently, sat on a moss-coated wall her sparkly nails, tapping against the silver case of her phone. it's been a whole 35 minutes since her dear friend Eunchae went in for a date, she was so convinced it would go wrong that she dragged y/n alone just in case. But all y/n could see was her friend smiling and laughing like never before, no red signals. Heck it must be some kind of lover's day, so many couples surrounding her, it's almost sickening. Don't get her wrong, she's all for love, true love, the kind one'd die for, the kind where you can trust someone, the love makes you seem like an idiot.

Y/n pulled out her phone, head down as she connected her Bluetooth earphones, scrolling through Spotify looking for a song she feels like listening to in her playlist. Just as she looked up from her phone, picking a song, she almost fell on her back, gripping on the wall as she stared the small, glowing insect fluttering before her. She had no idea where it came from, the glowing blue butterfly, with black lines painted on it's wings, to created such a intricate design. She turned her head in it's direction, as it flew through a few couples.

Riki parked his car, stepping out of it as he searched for the coupon on his phone. His summer holiday has been nothing but boring so far, a dreading, uneventful month of being woken up early by his Hyung's, doing chores, eating junk and playing video games. Which is why he was out here, yawning, as he pulled up the Papa John's app on his phone. It was a Tuesday after all. As he looked up from his phone, he cussed under his breath, almost falling back against his car's front, as he saw the blue morpho butterfly up close, its wings fluttering away from him. His head turned, a frown adorning his face, but it soon disappeared when he locked eyes with a girl.

Her black hair cut somewhat short, layers flowing out and framing her face, dark eyes somewhat wide, stars reflecting from pupils. Y/n didn't fail to notice those pretty moles of his, one under his eye, just like hers, his lips plump, but his eyes, lovestruck. Never has she ever seen a man like this in these local streets. She frowned as the cars drive past, obstructing their view. Riki groaned, standing by the traffic light. His eye's narrowing at the red light, as he mentally threatened it. His eyes widened as he saw the red stop man move, his hands forming a heart.

Y/n frowned kicked the rock before her, annoyed. One pretty boy, and the polluted roads lost him. Pollution really does do harm after all. She frowned as she stared at the rock she just kicked, it was shaped like a heart. She sighed rolling her eyes, god and his odd ways of sending humans a message through coincidences. She froze in her seat when the bubbles that the kids blew, suddenly formed in the shape of hearts. She's just going crazy. Just in a small distance, between the never ending bubbles, the biggest sign cane walking toward her.

The male himself. Riki had no idea what he was doing, or what he was going to do, but perhaps his hesitation with something as simple as approaching a stylish girl, is what's keeping him from having a fun-filled bright summer. "Hey uhm could you walk me to Papa John's? I'm new here so..." New here? bullshit. He had been here since he was 14. "Uhm it's just there.... where you were earlier...." Y/n said as she mentally facepalmed. Fuck. was he asking her out? "I know.... so would you mind?... I can treat you to some pizza for the burden." He asked again , hopeful and internally screaming, though outside he played it off cool, shocked by how calm he was being.

"Gladly!" She said with a smile. Eunchae can always call her. Plus it seems she's having a blast anyway. Y/n can turn down any pretty boy. A Lee Suho? Han Seojun? but this pretty boy, was worth all her time. So says the world around her, and so says her heart. A small date wouldn't hurt. Riki smiled, staring down at the shorter girl, a smile making it's way to his lips, he so badly wanted to hold her hand in his, talk to her take her on plenty dates. Hopefully he will<3

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[citrusses]

10 incredible fics by @oknowkiss 😘🎈

elaine's work was some of the first to grab hold of my arms and drag me headfirst into the full-on drarry hyperfixation. picking only ten fics I'm obsessed with was basically impossible--how dare someone be so talented??? if you've already read all these, go read the ones you haven't!!

9 to 5 (E, 2K)

Draco Malfoy hates Mondays.

e's microfic may is a genre in and of itself.

Hyacinth (M, 7K)

Draco receives a letter. Inside is a note from a lawyer and a single, purple petal, the same color as the hyacinths his mother used to grow. This is what happens after.

this fic broke my heart. it's so beautiful, you have to experience it to understand.

the long ways (M, 10K)

Five times Harry thought he was seeing Draco for the last time, and one time he didn’t. OR: what it’s like to fall in love, slowly and without realizing it, over the course of 20 years.

Falling in love over 20 years! Need I say more????

draco malfoy's substitute murder service (E, 10K)

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities. OR: the one where Draco goes goblin mode, and Harry has a thing for monsters.

who else could come up with something this perfect, strange, apt, hilarious and tender?

a licence to kill (M, 11K)

Draco Malfoy has a licence to kill. Unfortunately, it expired last Tuesday. OR: how Draco Malfoy learned to stop worrying and love form AK-86-G

once again, the world-building this author is capable of in a fic of 11K is beyond comprehension.

any day now (E, 16K)

Draco supposes he should be grateful.  The rehabilitation centres were the Minister’s idea, or that’s what the Prophet said anyway. Their stated objective is simple: to provide a safe space for low-tier Death Eaters and high-tier sympathisers to reconsider the entirety of their life choices. All guests–because no one is a prisoner here, the literature brags–are to be provided with shelter, food, clothing, and the guided support of a Mind Healer via a programme they call “ideological restructuring,” which is, of course, mandatory. 

funny and clever and biting and sharp and a kick to the heart. one of my favorite fics.

Historians (E, 29K)

It’s the Dumbledore’s Army Reunion Holiday, and Harry’s found himself in hot water with his friends once again, after telling them he has a boyfriend he definitely does not have. In an attempt to fix things, he’s made it his colleague on Level Nine, Draco Malfoy’s problem too. Featuring a ski chalet in Switzerland, a pair of bunk beds, and an agreement that should’ve been simple, were it not for all the bloody feelings getting in the way.

I've made it this far into the list without mentioning that elaine writes the. hottest. sex. ever. see: how i raved about this fic when it was still anon.

À Bon Chat (E, 35K)

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

Cat and mouse Drarry! Art thieves! Such a true delight of a fic.

The Waiting (E, 43K)

It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love.

I can't do justice to this fic with my words (even though I, at one point, tried to). i stayed up all night to read it, crying silently into my pillow. it's an all-time favorite, it is a fandom classic, if you haven't read it i am begging you to (and dm me so we can scream)

The July Tree (E, 51K)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

The rec post I wrote for this fic two years ago is as true as it ever was.

[avatar-anna]

Bruises

"I feel so...hollow," you said, your voice breaking on the last word. "But—But like my feelings are so heavy they could drown me at the same time. I don't—I don't know when it started, but I can't remember how to be happy without waiting to be punished for it later."

Tears were tracking stains down your cheeks like small rivers, leaking out of your eyes faster than you could stop them. Not that you tried to, anyway, even that seemed exhausting. One thing you could do was avoid Harry's gaze. You felt it like a severe burn as he practically begged you to look at him, but you just couldn't. Not while you were so vulnerable. You felt stripped bare, even more so than the number of times the two of you had been intimate.

"Y/n—"

"Don't," you said, nearly leaping out of your skin when he rested a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him then, saw the pain in his eyes at your rejection of his touch. But you couldn't handle it. Your soul felt raw as you said things you never thought you would out loud. "Please don't, I can't—"

Harry seemed to understand as he nodded and took a step back, but the concerned furrow of his brow remained, his fingers curling awkwardly at his sides. He'd always been the type to communicate through touch—a squeeze on the shoulder, a tip of your chin, a gentle nose nudge on your cheek, a hand never far away from your person. You knew that he craved touch to comfort people, and yet he stayed put. For that you were thankful, and it helped you find your words again.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," you said, almost too quietly for anything but your thoughts to hear. "I—I don't know why I'm feeling like this, or how I got here, I—I just feel like I'm stuck in this emptiness."

Saying all of that made you want to run and hide. Harry didn't need to know all this, how wrecked you really were inside. No one did. He was just someone who happened to be around when you were at your worst. Normally you were able to keep a lid on your darkest thoughts, but he'd come over when you were in the thick of it, and you couldn't exactly hide how you felt when you were crying uncontrollably for virtually no reason other than it was a Tuesday afternoon and life suddenly felt like one big chore.

Maybe it was the holiday, seeing everyone so happy, hearing songs about falling in love and kissing under mistletoes and commercials that said, "The perfect gift for that someone special!" Being surrounded by so much cheer only left you feeling more hollowed out, more lost than you'd ever thought you'd become.

"Y/n, why—why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Like what?" you laughed bitterly. "That I cry at the drop of a hat and can't handle light teasing from my friends? That I haven't felt right for weeks and getting out of bed feels like a chore? We—That's not who we are to each other. I—I have no one."

The words clanged around, grasping onto your heartstrings and convincing you it was true. You had friends and family, but when the darkness reared its ugly head, you always felt hopelessly and inescapably alone. Words deserted you when you needed them most, leaving you to smile and pinch your skin, trying your best not to cry in line at the grocery store or while sitting at your desk at work. It was all too much, too much to handle, and yet you didn't want anyone else but you to share that load, the weight of your inexplicable despair.

"Do you honestly think that?" Harry asked. You couldn't even dignify him with an answer. It had been humiliating to say it once, let alone look him in the eye and say it again. So you just shrugged and wiped your cheek. "You're my friend, Y/n, and I care about you. I'm sorry if I haven't done enough to make you know that."

"It's not just you, H," you sniffled, feeling bad for making Harry uncomfortable. It wasn't his job to make you feel better. Your problems were yours to bear alone. They always had been. "I don't—I don't know how to do this."

"Do what, love?"

Despite the discomfort of having shared so much, Harry's gentle voice felt like a warm blanket over your shoulders. It made you finally look up to meet his eye. You were surprised to see so much emotion held in them, but you didn't shy away from it like you thought you would. It helped fill that hollow ache a little, made you feel a little less alone.

"I don't know how to deal with this any other way," you said, trying to explain. "I don't...I hate sharing this stuff with people. It makes my skin crawl."

Your body felt heavy, your soul weary, as if no amount of shed tears or leaning on shoulders would ever ebb the emptiness that was taking over you. But you didn't want the pity. You didn't want anyone to worry or look at you differently because of how sensitive you tended to be sometimes. To deal with the myriad of moods that swung on a pendulum day to day, sometimes moment to moment. The pressure of feeling like you should reach out and ask for help was almost worse than the emptiness and despair.

"This is a good start," Harry said, inching just a tiny bit closer. "I just don't want you to think you can't talk to me. You can, Y/n, and I'll listen, or give you space, or help you find professional help, or do whatever it takes to make you smile. Just let me be here for you."

The notion didn't sit well with you at first. It wasn't how you dealt with things, though clearly your methods weren't working. That didn't make letting Harry in any less scary, or any easier. But Harry was still here. You'd broken down, shared just how broken you really were, and he was still here, asking to be someone for you to confide in.

Harry had been your friend for a long time. You ran in the same circles and saw each other often enough that you'd consider him to be someone you were close to. It wasn't until your arrangement that you got to know him more. You'd never had a friends with benefits situation before, but you never imagined it to be so easy. Rules had been sketched out, boundaries were made and kept, and things between you just seemed to work. Even when you didn't see each other for a week or two at a time, there was no awkwardness.

There was no jealousy at parties or possessiveness; you were exclusive, but okay with the idea of ending things should either of you meet someone you wanted to explore a relationship with. You and Harry just clicked—two friends who happened to sleep with each other, companions who could hold conversations about their jobs amicably, yet knew every inch of each other's bodies intimately. And now Harry was offering something more, something different.

Nodding, you said, "Thank you."

Harry gave you a small grin, then tentatively reached a hand out to wipe away a stray tear. You let him, not feeling like a startled animal anymore. You knew part of you should've felt embarrassed that Harry had caught you in such a state, that you'd let him see how broken and hurting you were on the inside, and maybe a small part of you did, but you mostly just felt like a weight had lifted off your chest.

"Can I get you anything? Maybe a cup of tea?" he asked, leading you over to your kitchen counter as if it was his home, not yours.

You let him, content to watch him move around your kitchen as if it was his own. He'd been over to your place enough times to know his way around and know how you took your tea.

Sitting in silence, you watched as Harry took a mug that looked like a gingerbread man and one that had a textured, cable-knit sweater design from your cabinet and fixed up two cups of tea. His shoulders flexed beneath his loose shirt, dark brown curls curving every which way at the nape of his neck. The familiarity of this moment was comforting after such an emotionally taxing and foreign afternoon. Harry was here as often as your busy schedules would allow, or you were at his place, neither of you concerned with how much time you spent together.

Though today you hadn't expecting to see him, hence the emotional breakdown. You didn't really plan those kinds of things, but you'd been feeling more down than usual and had been seeing Harry less and less recently as a result. Every text about a next meet-up, whether that was to get lunch or have sex or anything in between, had been rebuffed quickly and kindly. Today he'd shown up out of the blue.

"H?"

"Yeah?" he said, his back still to you.

"Why did you come over today? Y—You didn't text like you normally do."

Harry looked over his shoulder briefly, a small smile playing at his lips. "We hadn't seen each other in a while," he said breezily. "Which is fine, I know we're both busy, but I just had this distinct feeling you were avoiding me."

"I'm sorry," you said, finding it easier to say it when his back was to you. "I don't mean to do that."

"I know," Harry said, that same gentle and easy tone in his voice. "I've always known you're squirrelly about feelings."

You huffed at his choice of words, trying to focus on his humor rather than the fact that he seemed to know you better than you thought he did. You appreciated that he didn't state the obvious, which was that you went way past "squirrelly." The last hour had been emotionally taxing, and you appreciated that Harry offered you a modicum of normalcy.

"Thank you for checking up on me," you said. "You're a good friend, H."

Perhaps better than I deserve, was what you didn't say, because you knew he would scold you for even thinking it.

"Well, my visit wasn't totally innocent," Harry teased as he finally came over with two steaming mugs of tea, yours done just right. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, but didn't say anything more than that.

Raising your brows, you said, "Ah. You couldn't find anyone to watch Hallmark Christmas movies with you, could you?"

Harry chuckled into his mug, taking the excuse you both knew was a lie and ran with it. "Yeah, that's exactly it. I knew you'd understand."

"I wouldn't say to no a cheesy Christmas movie."

"Promise me you'll tell me when you're feeling like this again," Harry said a while later.

You could tell Harry was trying to hide his eagerness to pull you into your room and fire up your TV. His eyes scanned over you briefly, as if he was trying to assess where you were at mentally. It would be hard to see that stare, to know Harry had seen you at your lowest and would constantly be gauging if you were on the verge of another breakdown. But the thought didn't irritate you the way you thought it would. You were surprised to feel a little relieved that you weren't the only one taking care of you, at least for the time being.

You were huddled under a mountain of blankets together. Twinkly lights in your bedroom casting a warm light over you both. You'd meant to put them up earlier in the month, but hadn't made yourself get around to it, the small task falling to the wayside the same way a lot of your everyday chores did. Harry took one look at the forgotten box of lights and got to work, even going as far as putting a looped video of a roaring fireplace in his phone and setting it up next to your television. It was a little silly, and a tad over the top, but you appreciated it all the same, the lengths he was going to ease the ache in your chest as best he could.

He was practically on top of you now, but unlike the events of today, that was something you were used to. Harry liked to sprawl out, specifically with you underneath him—leg over your waist, arm tucked across you to keep you close, face buried in your neck or chin resting on top of your head. He insisted on draping himself over you like a blanket, even before you started sleeping together.

"I don't want to bother you—"

"Bother me, Y/n," Harry said, his voice gravelly as he gently turned your face to meet his gaze. "I'm not doing my job as your friend if I'm only with you when things are easy or—or good. You're not alone, okay? As long as I'm in your life, I'm in it. Good and bad."

"I'll try."

You tried to blink back tears, a little surprised you had any left to shed. Your face was undeniably puffy and a little dry, and you were tired in a different way than you had been the last few weeks. But these were different tears from earlier. A different emotion took over you as you nodded.

That seemed to satisfy Harry. He kissed your forehead, and you closed your eyes against it, allowing yourself to believe everything he'd said to you today.

You weren't magically fixed, that crushing weight was still waiting for you like a monster under your bed, but you weren't alone. Harry had turned the lights on, showing you that perhaps there was no shame in letting someone see the worst parts of you. Because he was still there, promising to hold your hand and help you until you felt whole again.

[veryberryjelly]

tangled in lights

pairing : theo nott x reader

🎃 - pillow forts

👻 - " stop playing around with the lights, it's not funny "

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

never had you been so bored on a saturday.

with your friends all studying and theo not arriving at school until tomorrow after the summer holidays, you were truly bored out of your mind.

to the point where you had made a pillow fort onto of your bed.

with your curtains drawn around your bed you had draped a sheet over the top to truly enclose yourself and had strung fairy lights around the bed frame.

it took ages.

and by the time you were done with it you were actually very proud of yourself.

when you were younger your pillow forts never looked like this, mainly because you didn't have the skill to accomplish it, but it just made this one all the more impressive.

you had been curled up in it all day with a cup of coffee and a book that you had been meaning to get to for weeks but never found the time.

it was a truly lovely day.

and you had been undisturbed until the lights in your dorm room started flickering.

" stop playing around with the lights, it's not funny " you called out, assuming that pansy was just trying to get you out of your fort for something.

which really wasnt going to happen.

when the flickering of the lights didn't stop, you set your book down on the bed and balanced your coffee down ontop of it before popping your head out.

" what the hell is w-" you started but immediately cut yourself off when you didnt see pansy or any of the girls at your doorway.

instead, stood in your dorm was your 6 foot boyfriend still damp from the rain outside. he must have just gotten in.

" holy shit " you said, jumping out of your fort, catching yourself momentarily on the string lights around your four poster.

the lights stopped as theo made his way over to you to stop you from falling over.

the minute you were free you launched yourself into his arms, a bright smile on your face as you embraced the man you hadn't seen in weeks.

his arms wrapped tightly around you, lifting you from the floor as he did so, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist.

" what are you doing here? you weren't supposed to get here until tuesday " you questioned, not daring to move your head from the crook of his neck, instead choosing to continue imprinting his scent in your brain.

" i used the floo. my parents were being pricks and i just wanted to come and see you " he replied, his breath warm against your neck.

its as the mention of his parents that had you pulling back to look at him.

" are you okay? " you questioned, knowing the crap with his parents got to him quite easily.

" im perfectly fine, darling. but i'm here now, and i just want to enjoy some time with you before classes start next week. "

his reply caused your smile to widen even further.

" well then... " you started, lowering your legs from around his waist and taking his hand in yours.

" let me show you around my pillow fort "

[scarletttries]

Roman Roy x Shiv's Best Friend!Reader Headcanons (Succession Request)

Pairing: Roman Roy x Shiv's Best Friend Reader

Rating: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Request: "Hi! If you’re still writing for succession, can I suggest headcanons for dating Roman while your shiv’s best friend? No pressure of course!!"

Author's Note: Celebrating his win this week, here's some headcanons for Roman Roy falling in love with his sister's best friend 🥰

- No matter how much time passes, Roman can still vividly remember the first time he saw you. It was a Tuesday afternoon, shrouded in monotony and teenage angst, sat at the dining table closely guarded by a tutor who'd been hired to make sure he got at least a passing grade to finish high school with. Despite being nowhere in sight he could still feel the oppressive judgement of his father breathing down his neck as he struggled to understand the notes laid out in front of him, the frustrations rising inside him and threatening to spill out in tears as his tutor joked that 'this should be easy!' Then the sweet sound of laughter cut through the pressure and the noise, like a windchime chirping out the loveliest tune in the middle of a storm, whipping his head around to find the source.

- It had taken two weeks of pleading and a thorough background check, but Shiv had finally been allowed to have a friend over to the house. You had been her classmate for years, but as you both readied yourselves to head off to the same college next year, you two had grown that much closer, your friendship cemented as you planned parallel lives on that first step into adulthood. Your first time visiting her stately home you found yourself pulling your school blazer more tightly around your shoulders, the echoing fortress sending a chill through you, its classy interior feeling hollow and uneasy. As you drifted through winding corridors Shiv led you into a grand dining hall, throwing her designer bag on one end of the oak table and saying you two could finish your homework here before you go upstairs to her room.

Despite the tutor's protest that Roman needed all the concentration he could muster, Shiv only laughed and set about teasing her brother for his supposed incompetence. Despite only a few months difference in your age, he looked so small to you, younger and more vulnerable, like he hadn't quite stopped being a little boy yet even as he strived to become a man.

"I remember that module from last year - don't feel bad, it took me ages to understand it all. You'll get there." You threw him a soft smile as you pulled your own folders from your bag, earning a scoff from Shiv and a hopeful look from Roman. Your gentle kindness seemed to lift his spirits and take the weight off his shoulders, the rest of his afternoon spent throwing desperate glances your way, mentally pleading for you to stick around and smile his way again.

- You and Shiv only grew closer as you shared a college dorm, more often than not visiting her during the holidays and giving her an ally in the misogynistic environment she called home. Each time you visited, Roman had grown up a little more, transforming from that meek boy to a young man who at least considered himself charming, even if that wasn't exactly what anyone else thought. You always found that no matter how confidently he drifted into the seat next to yours, catching up in easy conversation as old friends do, you couldn't help but still see a flicker of that sad, scared boy you had first met in his eyes, a part of him seeming to never really heal from whatever a childhood spent as a Roy entails.

- You and Shiv had so many milestones passed side by side, so in turn Roman was there to celebrate you with each one. It was hard to tell whether he applauded you or Shiv more loudly as you walked across the graduation stage, and when you landed on the first step of your chosen career ladder, the biggest gift basket you recieved was proudly signed 'Love, Roman.' He was there with a housewarming gift when you got your first apartment, a bouquet of flowers for every birthday, and all the while insisted he'd do the same for any of his old friends.

- His lack of subtlety made it easy for you and Shiv to deduce his true feelings, your best friend slightly disgusted by the thought of anyone dating her little brother, but the softest part of her knew you'd make him happier than anyone else could, two decades of friendship a testament to your positive impact on the lives of those you cared about. And after a few less than successful romances with big city executives who couldn't stop bragging about what they brought to the table, you couldn't help but enjoy the thought of spending more time on the receiving end of Roman's loving gaze.

- And so you put yourself out there, accompanying Shiv into the Waystar building on a Friday afternoon and giving Roman an overwhelming rush when you tapped lightly on the glass door of his office, giving him the same sweet smile you had offered him in consolation all those years ago. The advantage of a glass office was that you could clearly see the way he bolted upright in his chair, running his fingers through his hair as he awkwardly half-jogged to the door and flung it open with more force than he intended.

"Fuck, hey! What are you doing here? Do you need me to help you find Shiv?" He seemed almost out of breath as he spoke, voice wavering in pitch, trying to get a hold of himself.

"Actually I came to see you. I wanted to know if you were free for dinner tonight?"

"Like me, you, Shiv, maybe Ken?" His forehead creased as he spoke, frowning at the uncomfortable flips his stomach was executing in return for your eye contact.

"No, just the two of us? Like a date." You clarified, watching the gears turn in his head as if the request he'd so often fantasized about making didn't actually make sense when uttered aloud. Finally the penny dropped along with his jaw, his eyes growing wide and wild as he nodded in silence, unable to conjure the words he needed for once in his life. Taking pity on him, you spoke again, "Cool, what time do you finish here?" As you gestured to the desk behind him, you seemed to remind him of where he was - in his work place, in plain view, stuttering and tripping over himself for all to see. That wouldn't do.

"Uh - i'm done now. Fuck it, let's get out of here." In a singular moment of courage, Rowan grabbed the jacket he'd discarded over the back of his chair in one hand, and reached for you with the other, letting out an excitable giggle as you laced your fingers through his for the first time.

- After the most comfortable first date you had ever been on, Roman gave you no chance to get bored of him, or think about anyone else. After decades of pining, he decided that one night was enough to make him your boyfriend, quickly planning his whole life around you, and making sure an evening couldn't pass without you on his arm. His heart still hammered in his chest every time he got to touch you, but he tried to ignore that and act as if you had always been together, partly because in his head he had been yours for years, even if you hadn't been his in return yet.

- You both have to endure a lot of jabs and taunts from Shiv, although at least half of them are made with love. She makes a serious affair out of dividing up your time between her and Roman though, not willing to lose her best friend even if her brother is the happiest she's ever seen him.

- For Roman you feel like a comfort blanket at every family event, a physical reminder of the kindness he deserves and that there is someone good in this world that cares about him. When his father is especially vindictive or cruel, Roman clings to you under the table, a gentle squeeze of your hand meaning safety to his fragile inner child.

- Roman has spent so long captivated by you, desperate to be in your favour, soaking in the warmth of presence, that now he can't get enough. Given his lack of meaningful adult relationships he doesn't have a frame of reference for how he should act, or how to manage his emotions. He'll feel like a frantic teenager in love, unable to let go of your hand no matter how difficult it makes navigating a crowd, discussing moving in and plans that span 'forever' after only a few dates. It makes perfect sense for him, because you're the only person that's made him feel this way his entire life, so of course you're going to be together forever.

- Every time you plant a soft peck on Roman, he'll let out a sweet hyena giggle, before repaying you with a matching kiss, euphoric in his newfound appreciation for affection. It's not just physical affection either, although he does find himself clinging to you and begging you to run your fingers through his hair and down his back. He cherishes every sweet word you say, almost to the point that he really believes them. He rereads the texts you send him like they are poetry in themselves. His heart swells when you describe him as your partner and introduce him to your friends, not ashamed of him or your feelings, making Roman stand a little prouder in himself.

- That first moment of kindness that you showed Roman sparked a small light inside him, a flickering hope of a life of kindness and joy that he could only ever picture with you. Now getting to face that reality is so much brighter than that young, stressed, despondent boy could have dreamed.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (Teaser)

Posting Date: Tuesday, December 19th, 7:00 PM CT

Creative Collaborator: @kithtaehyung FOR THIS AMAZING BANNER!

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Length: One Shot 

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration!

Estimated WC: 45K (... whoops; this will probably be multiple parts)

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,141

Y/N POV

You should have known better than to trust Namjoon with your dating life.

Yoongi never would have put you in this situation. The more level-headed of your two best friends, Yoongi approaches matters of the heart with the same rationality he does everything else. Namjoon, on the other hand, is a great guy – who is notoriously bad at reading other people.

The number of times you’ve been forced to step in and save him from phone scams is astounding. It’s not his fault, really – Namjoon trusts too easily, which doesn’t serve him well in this world. He’s always willing to give others the benefits of the doubt, which gets him into trouble. 

And now you, by extension, having accepted the blind date he proposed.

Mike Davis moved into Namjoon’s building two months ago, and Namjoon has been adamant since the start that you two would hit it off.

“He goes to all the same conventions you do,” he assured you last week on the phone.

“Which conventions?” you asked, squinting hard at the wall. “I know you’re not big into nerd culture, Namjoon, so as an FYI – not all cons are considered equal.”

Namjoon rattled off a few you’d attended, impressing you enough to agree despite the initial disinterest. This agreement may have been spurred by tonight being the three-month anniversary of the worst break-up of your life.

Almost as soon as you sat, you realized your mistake. While you may have reached a point where you don’t cry every time your ex’s name is mentioned, the prospect of dating someone else is an entirely different matter. Getting dressed up felt strange, as did traveling to the restaurant and waiting for Mike at the bar.

The fact that Mike called this place a ‘restaurant’ should have been your first clue, as Hat Trick is most definitely a sports bar – specifically, a hockey bar. Had you known (really, you should have known), you wouldn’t have gone, but you were nervous and trying to make a good impression. Upon arriving, you arranged yourself awkwardly on a sticky bar stool and waited seven minutes for Mike to walk in.

Nearly an hour later, you find yourself regretting coming at all. Mike excused himself two minutes ago for the bathroom and as soon as he left, you sagged with relief.

He’s a nice guy, you suppose. Good looking, with light brown curls and dark eyes. You can see why Namjoon thought he might be good for you – Mike is the exact opposite of your ex in many ways. Constantly frazzled, he arrived late to the bar, only to immediately duck outside because he forgot to pay the parking meter. Jimin was the type to unpack his suitcase immediately after reaching the hotel and brought several chargers in case one of them died.

Once the meter was paid, Mike sat down and immediately launched into his entire life story. You suppose you should have been happy about this, since lack of communication ended your last relationship but instead, found yourself overwhelmed. 

Mike finally paused for breath once your drinks arrived, allowing you a moment to answer his questions. The moment you said you ran a pretty popular cosplay TikTok, Mike instantly shifted from arrogant to insecure. 

“I can’t believe you came,” he exhaled with a shake of his head. “When Namjoon showed me your picture, I said no way would you go out with me. You’re way too beautiful.”

Somewhat awkward, you laughed. “Don’t try and get me to leave, now, Mike.”

His eyes widened, not catching your sarcasm and it took several moments to get back on track. Everything since has been downhill, so when he excused himself for the bathroom, all you felt was relief.

Digging through your purse, you pull out your phone and swipe to the group chat.

Y/N: Namjoon, WHAT possessed you to set me up with this man [7:46 PM]

Yoongi’s reply comes immediately.

Yoongi: told you it was too soon [7:46 PM]

Namjoon’s ellipses join in.

Namjoon: what! Why? What happened?? Mike didn’t try something on you, did he? [7:47 PM]

Y/N: no, no – nothing like that [7:47 PM]

Y/N: he just keeps saying how *amazing* I am and how he doesn’t know why I’m on this date at all [7:47 PM]

Yoongi: dude [7:48 PM]

Y/N: EXACTLY [7:48 PM]

Before Namjoon can respond, the bartender changes the channel and an all-too-familiar name blares over the speakers. Slowly, you look up, and all thoughts of Mike fade, faced with NHL coverage.

Nope, no – absolutely not.

Leaning over the counter, you lightly tap the bartender. “Hi.” Brightly, you smile. “First off, could I have another glass of white wine? And then, maybe… could you change the channel?”

Glancing around, the guy shakes his head. “Yes, to the wine, but no, the channel,” he says with a shrug. “Half the people in here came to watch the game. Pre-show coverage is part of that.”

With an apologetic nod, he grabs a rag and disappears. Sinking back in your seat, you stare at your hands, clasped tightly together. Your spot at the bar puts you in the unfortunate position of hearing each word the announcers say crystal-clear.

“Well, Josh, what chance do you think the Blackhawks have tonight?”

The silver-haired man beside him bobs his head. “Steve, I’d say their chances are pretty darn good. You’ve seen this team’s early games. Their first line is strong, especially now that Park’s back.”

“Oh, absolutely – Jimin Park has been crucial in the last couple of games. He was sorely missed last season.”

“Ha! You can say that again.”

Trying to hide your wince, you clasp your hands tighter as a fresh glass of wine is set down. “Thanks,” you mutter, downing half in one gulp.

Immediately, your plans for later tonight shift to accommodate another bottle of wine. Movement catches the corner of your eye, and, despite yourself, you watch the montage of star right winger, Jimin Park, tearing his way down the ice. Shamefully, you recognize every shot since, although you broke up in September, you continued to watch every game.

“One of the most talked about moments last year in hockey was the late check on Park by Blues player, Brent Howard,” continues the announcer, Josh. “His helmet came loose when he hit the boards, and he went down hard on the ice. Park suffered a sprained knee and herniated a disc in his neck. A complicated surgery took him for most of the season, only starting to skate with the team again over the summer.”

Hearing the trauma recounted with such callousness, you find yourself gripping your wine glass tighter than before.

“I don’t think anyone ever expected Park to play again,” agrees the other announcer, Steve. “It’s a damned miracle he’s back on the ice – but to return and be this good? Park has always been one of the best right wingers in the league, but I’d say he’s the best offensive player on the ice right now.”

“A bold claim!” laughs Josh. “But I might just agree. Even Jungkook Jeon on the Rangers hasn’t been matching Park in assists.”

“Exactly! I mean, look at the numbers. Last year, the Blackhawks barely made the playoffs and now, they’re first in the Western Conference.”

“Truly amazing, given the nature of his injury last November. I don’t know how familiar you are with herniated discs, Steve, but –”

Mike slides back onto his stool. Grateful for the distraction, you turn fully to face him. Having already lived through the injury once, you have no need to reminisce. Replacing your phone in your purse, you smile gamely at Mike.

“So,” you say, attempting to save the conversation. “Namjoon mentioned you like conventions? What fandoms are you a part of?”

“Oh.” Mike loosely shrugs. “I doubt you’ve heard of any of them.”

At his dismissive tone, you stiffen. Your experience with the male side of fandom is always a toss-up. “Well, there are a lot of them. Any that are more mainstream?”

He considers. “Marvel?”

Stunned, you blink once or twice. Marvel has to be one of the biggest fandoms on the planet, let alone in the country. Even if you weren’t deep in the convention circuit, you’d have heard of Marvel.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think I’ve heard of that.”

“Cool, cool.” Mike nods. “Namjoon said you do cosplay – and showed me your TikTok! You know, you’d make a great Wonder Woman.”

You can practically feel your jaw tighten. “That’s DC, not Marvel. But thanks.”

Silent, you add for nothing. While you love Wonder Woman and have, in fact, cosplayed her many times, men usually only request her for one reason and that’s the skimpy outfit. Whenever you cosplay as circa 2010 Wonder Woman in pants, they’re decidedly less interested. By now, you’ve learned only to pick your characters based on personal interest.

“Have you ever cosplayed?” you ask.

Unbidden, your gaze slides to the TV. Commercial break. Stifling your twinge of disappointment, you refocus on Mike.

“Nah.” His nose wrinkles, and your stomach sinks further. “I don’t do that stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Hearing your tone, his eyes widen. “I mean, it’s cool for you. I saw your TikToks and you look amazing. I’d just look dumb,” Mike says, attempting a laugh.

Sweetly, you smile. “I don’t know. My ex used to cosplay with me, and no one ever laughed at him.”

Admittedly, this is something of a low blow since your ex-boyfriend is Jimin Park, but either Namjoon didn’t tell him, or Mike doesn’t care. Which – if that’s so, maybe Mike deserves more credit than you gave him. 

“Ah.” He nods, taking a sip of his beer. “Have you ever thought about cosplaying as Wonder Woman, though?”

Your smile vanishes. Then again, maybe you’ve given him exactly the right amount of credit.

“I have,” you say. “But more recently, I’ve been cosplaying Dimension 20 characters. It’s kind of niche, but my last character was Sundry Sidney from A Starstruck Odyssey. You know – giant machine gun arm, roller skates and a mechanical eye. Oh, and a ‘fuck erotica ann’ button, of course.”

Mike’s smile freezes. “Why… would you dress like that?”

“Because it’s fun.” Finishing your glass of wine, you toss a few bills on the counter and stand. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Mike, but I think we’d be better off as friends. Don’t you agree?”

Even with the answer right there in the question, still he looks flummoxed.

“I…” 

“Or acquaintances,” you add, pulling on your pea coat. “Or nothing at all. Whatever you prefer.”

Slinging your purse on your shoulder, you wave at the bartender and start to leave. You only make it several steps before Mike mutters something beneath his breath – loud enough that you hear.

“Stupid,” he mutters. “This is why you don’t date women like her, Mike.”

You come to a stop. Really, you should keep going. Common sense – and Namjoon’s HOA – depend on you being the bigger person and walking out. But your therapist has said you need to work on communicating, even when the message is something the other person won’t like.

Turning around, you tap Mike on the shoulder.

He glances upward, surprised – and then reddens, realizing you heard.

“Yep, I heard,” you say shortly, retracting your hand. “Was your muttering supposed to be secret?”

Mike opens, then closes his mouth, like a fish.

“What did you mean, ‘women like me?’” you demand, folding your arms. “Ones with self-respect? Or hobbies? Women who know more about a subject than you do?”

Behind the counter, the bartender snort-laughs, rising in your esteem despite the whole TV channel thing. 

Mike stares at you, stunned. He seems to grow a pair in that moment though, straightening to face you on his stool. “Women with sticks up their asses,” he blurt.

Stifling an eye roll, you lean closer. “Listen, Mike,” you say, placing one hand on the counter. “If you think you can hurt my feelings – think again. Someone broke my heart three months ago, so nothing you say now will remotely compare. Do you really want to know why women like me won’t date you?”

The furrow between his brows deepens, and you take this as a sign to continue. Leaning even closer, you lower your voice.

“It’s because you’re insecure,” you say softly. “Giving someone a compliment and putting yourself down in the same sentence isn’t nice, it’s awkward. Not to mention, you’re sexist,” you add, watching him stiffen. “Telling me – a two-time Comic Con trivia champion – that I wouldn’t know Marvel is wild. Oh, and you’re a snob. Tabletop games are awesome, and cosplay is fun. Have a good night – I paid for your drink.”

With that, you turn around and march out the door to a smattering of applause from your new favorite bartender. 

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[anemoelliacia]

the five times tighnari knew he loved you

warnings: female reader, literally just tooth rotting sweet fluff, but a mention of blood and a minor injury in one part, reader is mentioned to have a good maternal instinct, also vaguely mentioned to be an anxious person.

▶ i recommend listening to the song Backup Plan by Maya Hawke while reading this chapter <3

The first instance was when you gave him a scrapbook with all of his favorite plants dried and pressed, not even for an occasion or holiday. It was just because you wanted to. You loved when he would infodump about botany and all his favorite plants, it made you happy just to see him so happy. Which gave you the wonderful idea to take samples of all his beloved plants when you see them out in the wild, perfectly preserving them in a scrapbook for him to keep. Eventually, you had a whole fifty page scrapbook filled with his most cherished flora and vegetation. You gave it to him one random Tuesday evening, with such a big smile on your face. You looked so delighted with yourself as you affectionately gave him a kiss on the cheek, handed him the scrapbook and explained what it is. He couldn't help but think about how bewitching you are, not necessarily in how you look but how you act, how you choose to show affection. So he wondered “could this be love?”

Secondly, the time you removed a bug from your house by helping it outside rather than killing it. You blamed it on your motherly instinct, saying if someone needs a mama you’re a mama, no matter who or what you are. You scooped up the bug in a cup, placing paper over the opening so it wouldn’t fly off, all the while practically cooing at it and telling it you were trying to help it. You walked the bug all the way outside, and freed it from the cup far away enough that it wouldn’t get back in the house. He watched you in awe, looking at you with pure adoration because not everyone would care enough to do something so menial as rescuing an insect, pondering to himself “huh, I think I love her…” 

Thirdly, when he saw you tending to Collei because she had an injury. It wasn’t even a bad injury, rather it was miniscule compared to anything else she has dealt with in the past. You saw her fall and scrape her knee- it was really nothing terrible. Though, when you saw the scrape and the blood starting to trickle down her shin, you lovingly made her sit down so you could clean it up as gently as possible, and put a bandage around it. You even presented her with a piece of candy after you cleaned up the minor wound, as if you were treating a child. Collie and you both giggled at each other, and Tighnari stood back watching you care for her with an affectionate smile on his face, thinking to himself “she just might be the love of my life.”

Fourthly, was the first time you helped him groom his tail. He had accidentally dragged his tail through some mud, without realizing at first until it started to dry- it was caked into the delicate fur. He was abashed by it because he likes to keep himself tidy, especially around you. You found him in his washroom, ears drooping with an agitated demeanor as he was trying to wash out all the mud. You wordlessly joined him, giving him a soft smile as you took over for him, gently taking your time to clean all the mud from the fur of his tail. You even took the time to dry off his tail when you were done washing it, as well as combing it to ensure no tangles developed. He watched you with such fondness as you groomed his tail, picking up on the pure devotion radiating from you. He thought, “Archons, how did I get so lucky? I think I truly love her…”

The fifth and final instance was when he came back two days later than expected from a forest rangers expedition. Before he left he assured you that he'd be back in a week, but there was a hold up in the expedition. Truly, he was in no danger. Though, he had no way of telling you that, to which he felt terrible because Tighnari is well aware how much of a worrier you are. He imagined, you must be anxiously pacing your house awaiting his late arrival, probably thinking about the worst case scenario. Two days later than his estimated arrival, he finally comes home- he'll never forget the look of pure relief on your face, and how fast you ran to his side. "Tighnari!" you yell all the while practically launching yourself into his arms, causing him to stumble backwards, nearly falling onto his ass. He wrapped his arms around you, breathing you in as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, mumbling about, "I was so worried for you, worried I'd never see you again…" Tighnari let out a sigh, feeling guilty once again for making you worry so much for him. However, in the moment his heart swells knowing you care that much about him. So, "I'm not going anywhere. I love you too much to leave you behind." he replies, wholeheartedly meaning it, wanting to spend the rest of his days with a person as wonderful as you.

▶ if you liked this, check out the other parts linked in my masterlist :) every genshin man i write for is getting their own part.

[gabessquishytum]

Happy Holidays!!! 🎄🎄

Dream used to be one of the most sought-after, highly priced, escorts in the city. His "boyfriend" experience was second to none, and he never caught feelings (wellllll, there was.....). In any event, he's out of the business and happy and successful doing his art. He doesn't even keep a hand in, he's done, so he wasn't expecting a call from his old madam on a random Tuesday. It's only because he owes Joanna a favor that he even picks up.

Ever direct, Joanna said that one of his old clients specifically asked for a date with him. Now this wasn't the first time that's happened since Dream got out of the business, but this is the first time the requester was Robert Gadling.

Robert Gadling was a name he hadn't heard in ages. For a time, Hob was a regular. He was a work hard, no time for play, tech guy, building his company one long night after the other, and he didn’t really have time (make time) for dating. Dream thought he was fantastic, and if their relationship wasn't transactional, Dream would have let those feelings he was catching take stronger hold.

At some point Hob met his Eleanor and had one last "date" with Dream and went off to eventually get married and live that life, a life without Dream. Dream didn't even keep tabs, that would have been so bad for his mental health, but last he heard, Hob sold his company for billions and stepped back to be with his family. Dream was (bittersweetly) happy for him.

Dream didn't know if he......, he said yes right away.

When Dream was ushered into the mansion by the sea, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't a giggling, streaking, wet toddler, who proceeded to use his leg to hide from his equally wet father --- the years have been super kind to Hob, "DILF" suited him. Hob still blushed, and tugged on his ear, the same; saying he hoped to have Robin down before Dream arrived. Hob never ceased to charm Dream, so Dream offered to help with bedtime.

Once Robin was down for the night (although, having a whole new,,,pretty,,, person around didn't help calming Robin down), Hob apologized for calling his old work number, but he didn't know how else to not so creepily contact Dream.

Hob was a retired widower now and could use a friend, especially one that might not mind being more,,,,without payment involved.

Oh hell yeah!!! Former lovers reconnecting is such a cute idea. I definitely think that Dream would get to a point where he's craving love, and Hob is out here with so MUCH love to give him! Truth is, Hob is so tired of being on his own (as much as he loves his son, he is clawing at the walls because he needs adult conversation). Hob would take anything that Dream would give him, and Dream is hesitantly hopeful.

As they renew their friendship, Dream sees that Hob is definitely a different man to the cocky, slightly crazy businessman he knew all those years ago. He's devoted to his son, he cooks, he's domestic, he wears jeans and football shirts and his hair is going grey. Dream falls in love at the mere sight of him. And Hob is also shyer than he used to be. He keeps blushing. Fortunately, Robin is happy to hold the conversation. Hob doesn't seem to mind having Dream around his son - he never mentions Dream’s previous career or makes any crude jokes. He just gazes, mildly starstruck, as Dream tells Robin a dozen shark facts and offers to paint one for his bedroom.

Inevitably they fall into each other's arms once Robin is tucked up in bed (Dream read his bedtime story). They snuggle up on the sofa and make out like teens, and go to bed without actually having sex. It's the reassurance Dream didn't know he needed, and when he wakes up to find Hob smiling at him and offering breakfast in bed? This time he's really hoping that he'll be allowed to stay forever.

[missjomarch]

In My Blood

Pairing: Luca Fantilli x reader Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: anxiety, panic attack A/N: unedited (per usual), but I got tired of rereading it lol. Here's some slight angst for your Tuesday. Slightly inspired by ‘In My Blood’ by Shawn Mendes. Happy 4th to those who celebrate!

You had gotten yourself into this situation, really. With a history of anxiety, and a tendency to push yourself past your limits, you should’ve been a little more prepared for this time of year. It was late November, and with the holidays and finals week quickly approaching, you were wound tighter than a drum. This had been one of the most academically challenging semesters of college yet, and you needed a decent grade on your finals to maintain your scholarship eligibility. Not only that, but to maintain the approval of your overbearing parents. You had returned from thanksgiving break with a renewed fear of failure after your parents spent the holiday reminding you that if you fell below a 3.0 they wouldn’t continue to help you pay for college. 

Managing the challenges of school was difficult enough, but this year you started your internship with Michigan Athletics as well. You joined the hockey media team in August, and it’s been the best part of your college career so far. Going to practices, media days, and games were always the highlight of your week. You had already been close friends with most of the team as you’d started dating Luca last year, and being a media girl just gave you an excuse to tag along to even more team events. You loved this team and position with your whole heart. However, it doesn’t come without its own stressors. 

You were already anxious, but it only multiplied when Kristy, the head of staff for media, pulled you into her office today towards the end of practice. She had never been unkind to you, but she was incredibly cut-throat and always strictly business. So when she implied that you weren’t adequately performing your media duties, it shouldn’t have felt so personal. However, it left you feeling incredibly deflated and underappreciated. As a perfectionist, you often lived to please other people. So the disappointed tone of Kristy’s voice sent you spiraling. 

After the rather one - sided conversation on how you ‘could be better’, you were left feeling like a scolded child. You could already feel the weight gathering in your chest before she even finished speaking, and before you left, she assigned you yet another promotional project to finish by the end of the week. It was all you could do to mumble a ‘yes ma’am’ before bolting out of her office. 

The tears were already falling by the time you reached the end of the hallway, hands trembling as you rounded corner after corner. You didn’t know where you were going, but you needed to find somewhere to calm down. Yost was like your second home, but with every turn you took your breath quickened even more. Your brain screaming at you as you practically sprinted through the arena, panic was setting in. The thoughts were so loud that you didn’t even register the person in front of you until you rounded the corner and slammed right into their chest. 

The body let out an umph at the impact, hands instinctively finding your shoulders. As you looked up, hot tears burning your face, you were met with the familiar eyes of Adam Fantilli. He observed your frantic appearance, and his face immediately scrunched with concern. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” 

Adam’s question was met with silence, but he could feel the panic radiating off you. You only cried harder as he stared down at you, your hand involuntarily moving to claw at your throat. Adam quickly pulled you down the hallway and into an empty trainer’s room, closing the door behind him. 

“What happened?” Adam tried again, but you only shook your head. You were beginning to hyperventilate, and your whole body was now trembling. Suddenly feeling too feeble to stand, you sank down into the chair beside you.

Adam finally realized the severity of the situation and conceded, “Okay, okay. Stay here, I’m gonna go get Luca.” 

You barely registered anything from his parting sentence, aside from your boyfriend’s name. All you could hear was the booming of your own pulse and the shaky, shallow breaths you barely managed to inhale. You knew you should try to control your breathing, but it felt like someone had placed a cement block atop your lungs. Your hand rubbed absent mindedly at the aching pain in your chest as you tried to shake the feeling of impending doom. The world felt like it was ending, but you were frozen. Condemned to watch it happen. Just as the dizziness began to set in someone appeared in front of you. It took you a moment to recognize that it was your boyfriend, Luca, who kneeled before you. He was speaking, but you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. 

“Luca?” you breathed, peering down at him through your tears. 

He had a tight grip on your trembling hands, “I’m here, love. What’s going on?” 

You had been slightly distracted by his sudden appearance, but now you were back in your previous state of panic. 

Sobs wracked your body as you heaved, “I can’t breathe, Lu.” Your tone was painfully pleading, and shattered Luca’s heart into a million pieces. He had never heard your pain so clearly, and he would’ve done anything in that moment to take it away. Luca had only been with you through a panic attack once before, but he remembered the calming mechanisms you had talked about with your therapist. 

“I’m going to help you, okay?” Luca attempted, but you weren’t looking at him. He reached up to brush your hair away from your face, knowing he had to get your focus back on him before he could help you.

“Y/N,” Luca’s voice was sterner this time, and you slid your eyes to meet his. “I need you here with me right now, love.” You heard him this time, the pounding of your pulse subsiding with his soothing tone. You gave him a slight nod to signal that you understood. 

Luca stood and lifted you from your chair before settling you both in the floor. His back rested against the wall, and he pulled you to sit between his legs, back pressed to his chest. With the new proximity, Luca could feel your trembling completely. You usually didn’t want to be touched while in your current state, but you allowed him to wrap his arms around your chest. His hold was grounding, and you could feel your heart rate slow as he encouraged you to breathe with him. 

“Deep breath in, baby. There you go,” Luca encouraged. He counted you off, making sure you exhaled for the full eight count. When he felt that your breathing had mostly returned to normal, he moved on to your counting exercise. He knew he needed to keep you distracted to prevent the panic from returning. 

“What’s 100 minus 7?” Luca prompted, encouraging you to continue the exercise. He didn’t correct your math, instead allowing you to repeat the technique over and over. The fog that was clouding your brain began to clear with every inhale, and you could already feel the exhaustion taking over your body. Luca noticed, too. He felt your body growing heavy in his hold, your previously ridged state ebbing away as you counted. 

“You feel better now?” Luca asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. You only nodded, too fatigued to really carry on a conversation. He placed a kiss to your temple before readjusted you in his arms to fully look at each other. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You thought for a moment. You did want to, knowing you’d feel better after you shared the burden with Luca. However, you currently had neither the energy nor the words to explain what had made you so upset. You croaked out a simple ‘later’, knowing Luca would understand your intentions. He nodded and left it at that. 

Luca shifted, “Let’s get you home. We can take a nap.” He pulled you up from your place on the floor, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist. He hugged you back, placing soft kisses and mumbling comforts into your hair. He didn’t pull away until you did, and even then, he still left his arm around you as he led you back through the arena. 

Adam was waiting outside, your backpack in hand. He gave you a soft smile as you approached, and you mumbled a thank you before hugging him as well. Neither of the boys had a car, but you were able to get a ride back to the house with Luke. You were thankful not only for the reprieve from the cold, but also to be able to cuddle up with Luca in the backseat. 

It took less than 10 minutes to get back to Luca and Adam’s shared apartment, and you bid Luke a soft goodbye before Luca practically carried you up the stairs. You stood silently as he changed you into one of his sweatshirts before pulling you to the bed. Your head rested on his chest, his steady heart beat in your ears drastically different from the previous pounding of yours. His hand rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles as you let your body relax into his completely. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his chest. You couldn’t see him, but you knew if you looked up you’d be met with an incredulous stare. It sent a whisper of a smile across your face. 

“Don’t thank me, baby. I’d do anything to make sure you didn’t have to feel that way ever again.” Your heart warmed at his sentiment, and you leaned up to place a small peck to his lips. You silently thanked the universe for sending you such a sweet boy as you let his warmth overtake you, slipping into the sweet darkness of sleep. 

[thewolvesof1998]

Hiiii Wolf 💕💕💕

Buck and Christopher are baking Christmas cookies!

-how many are they making?

-what kinds are they making?

-what do they end up doing with them all?

And anything you can think of to describe the scene!

Have fun with it!! ☺️

Hi Saturn 🪐 !!!

I'm going to use this as my Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

Oh okay, so this sent me down a rabbit hole of sugar cookies and the types of frosting and now I'm going to have to bake some. So I had my first and only ever sugar cookie when I was in Ohio in March. It was sooooo fucking good and I'm pretty sure it was buttercream icing because it was so light and fluffy. I also love making white chocolate butter cream icing so I'm excited to make sugar cookies with it.

Anyways, your questions!

Buck and Chris are making Christmas cookies for Chris's class, maybe they're having a bake sale or maybe it's just to spread some holiday cheer, either way, they are making so many cookies, that the trays are spread out all over Eddie's kitchen. Here are Buck's inspiration photos (because of course he made a Pinterest board for it):

And just image him and Chris making all of these cookies:

And here's a snippet from Someone to be Gentle (which already had a cookie baking scene and I might have already posted most of this so if you've read this before no you haven't):

When Eddie walks in the front door of his house it's to the smell of freshly baked cookies and the sound of his kid cackling like he’s done something cheeky and he knows he’s going to get away with it because, as Buck says, ‘Look at that face, how could you be mad at him?’.  Eddie follows the sound, can hear the timber of Buck’s laugh join and harmonise until it’s a cacophony that feels like it’s rubbing aloe on his therapy raw soul. He rounds the corner into his living room and is standing in the door of his kitchen taking in the chaotic sense. There are trays, so many trays, of sugar cookies, half are iced in shades of green and white, the others laid bare. Chris still has his back to Eddie, head tilted back in laughter but Eddie can see Buck, can see the green icing smeared across his cheek and the fake look of outrage on his face that is betrayed by the laughter falling from his lips.  A far too familiar ache rips through his chest, his breath catches and eyes start to burn with tears that have become so common lately that he’s surprised they haven’t left permanent marks on his cheeks. He ducks away, not wanting his darkness to mar their happiness any more than it already has. He slumps down onto the couch, head already in his hands trying to push the tears back into his eyes as if that would erase the fact that they were ever there.  A hand lands on his shoulder, it stretches from scar to shoulder blade, “Eddie?” “I’m good, I’m fine,” He says without looking up, his voice all crackly with emotion. He senses more than sees Buck sit down opposite him, the coffee table creaking under his weight, Eddie always in tune with every movement Buck makes. His hand never breaks contact, the warmth and steadiness of his palm in sharp contrast to how Eddie’s shaking like a leaf.  “You know it’s okay if you're not fine,” Buck pauses as if he’s gathering his thoughts or courage, “You don’t always have to be strong with me, I’m not going to judge you or-or run away, Eddie.” Eddie shakes his head, “You don’t want this, it’s messy, I’m a mess,” as if to emphasise the point he wipes away snot with the edge of his sleeve.  “Of course I do, we’re partners,” Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Bucks, his edges are a blur because of the tears but his cheeks are flushed pink as they usually do when Buck’s on a passionate roll, “best friends, I-I want the bad as well as the good, I want to be there when you’re at your worst, let me have your back.” A sob tears out of his chest, it sounds an awful lot like Buck’s name. And he’s not sure if he’s folding forward or if Buck’s reeling him but his arms are around Eddie, holding him close to his chest and something snaps within him. His fingers twist into Buck’s shirt as he cries into his shoulder soaking the material with tears and snot in a way he hasn’t done since he was a little kid crying in his mother’s arms, before the ‘you have to be the man of the house’, before he learnt it was bad to show weakness. And he knows that's not true, been teaching his own son it’s not but it’s so much easier to be kind to others than it is yourself. 

The poem it's based on

first snippet second snippet

tagging people for Tease Tidbit Tuesday: @wikiangela @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @smilingbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1 @princehattric @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

[rel124c41]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re comparable to a splinter.”

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

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now who was making you —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hah, yeah I will. Um, Idia, I—“

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

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

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

“Yes, yes, see you, Idia.”

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

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

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do they have relatives in Twisted Wonderland?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was this perhaps … a code of sorts? 

“My character archetype?” 

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

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

“Fufufufu, is that so~”

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps, a tea made for a Pope?”

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

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

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

“Are you not going to eat?”

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

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

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

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

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

Am I doing this right? Jade questions.

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

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

“Roses, your favorite flower, correct?”

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

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

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

“I actually grew a fondness them because –”

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

“Yes, hah. It is.”

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

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

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

You stay silent. 

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

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

“And, I know, that perhaps —“

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

“(Name)…”

“I have to go.”

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

“Please, let me apologize to you.”

“No. No, it’s alright.”

“(Name).” 

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

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

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

──────────────────

Has anyone ever been isekai-ed twice? 

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

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

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

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

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

not sweet, just based

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

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

This is emotional, I can’t punch it.

EW! IDIA LOGGING OFF. NO NORMIE EMOTIONS HERE.

Idia

NO

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

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

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

You wish you had punched him.

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

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

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

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Their emotional intelligence is sooo low.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“4, 3, 2, 1. Go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, teleportation magic. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? How can you tell?” 

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

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

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

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

HUH!

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

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

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

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

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

“Announce that Jade won.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn right.”

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

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

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

“Huh? But you lost?”

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

──────────────────

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

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

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

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

“Jade.”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

“This weekend.”

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

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

“Hey, you can’t just cut the line!”

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

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

“Jade!”

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

“Jade, put down your tray.”

“Hm? Whatever for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[octuscle]

Merry Christmas! Or, er, Happy Holidays! Don’t wanna be presumptuous but I haven’t a clue what you celebrate, oh great wise Chronivac Support.

Aw why bother with niceties, you can probably tell I’m buttering you up. I’ll just get straight to it.

I live in the one campus dorm that’s right next to a frat house notorious for its wild, all-night parties. For most of my dorm mates, they love being so close to such a hotspot for booze and babes, but I—an eternally sober fruitcake— don’t really care for all that. Not to mention the loud music and flashing lights outside my window while I’m trying to sleep, god it drives me crazy.

Now, obviously I’m asking you to help me out, but I got a special request. Seeing as it’s the holly jolly time of year, I figured why not spice up my request. So, could you have one of their parties crashed by a real deal, mean Krampus? You know, Krampus, big, brutish, fuzzball that’s all about punishing naughty kids? You think you can have him punish those naughty frat boys and turn them into good little (or big, rather) musclebrats?

First of all, have a great holiday season too. I can't wish you a peaceful holiday season based on the information you've given me. I can understand you, but I don't really know how I can help you either. I'll send you a Krampus mask and a rod, maybe that will help with the next excess next door.

Bloody hell! It's Tuesday! In the middle of the week! Okay, maybe tomorrow is St. Nicholas Day, but that's no reason to make such a racket again. On the other hand… It's Krampus night. The evening of December 5th. There's no better occasion to put on the mask, grab the rod and really shake up the party in the house next door. You quickly put on a tracksuit and sneakers, put on the heavy mask, grab the rod and head next door.

The door is open. And step inside. Boozing and bawling frat boys are partying to loud music. And you see some of your roommates from your dorm. You shout "Krampus is here to punish the bad guys!" into the roar. And you start beating every jock who gets in your way with the rod. Nobody reacts at first. Then laughter. Then panic! Whoever your rod hits falls to the ground. You go into a sheer rush. Behind you, men lie on the ground with their limbs twitching, the drunken guys flee from you as best they can. But most of them just stumble over each other and make easy work of you. The big bell on your belt announces your arrival. You walk up the stairs with heavy steps. A few of the fugitives try to escape from the windows. A few barricade the doors. But no door can withstand your powerful step.

Apart from your own breathing and the music, nothing else can be heard. You pull the plug of the sound system out of the socket. Dead silence. The guys on the floor breathe peacefully and evenly. Another frat boy is hiding behind the sofa. One last strike with the rod. And your work on Krampus night is done.

Back in your dorm room, you take off your heavy mask. You're sweating in your heavy Krampus costume made of leather and sheepskins. The costume has been in your family for generations. Even your great-grandfather regularly took part in the Krampus runs in your home village in Salzburger Land.

Peace at last! "De verdammtn Gödln hom hodlt as kriagt, wos eana zugsteat!" you think to yourself as you finally take the costume off again and put it away in the wardrobe. And you fall into a deep and undisturbed sleep.

When your alarm clock rings at 07:00 the next morning, it's morning roll call in the fraternity house next door. The fraternity is known as the toughest training ground on campus. And home to the hottest guys. This morning they've been roaming the campus, stuffing candy and condoms into the good guys' polished boots. And now there are a few bare-chested push-ups in the snow. You love this sight.

You really couldn't ask for a better neighborhood.

Your pic found @hairysweatysmelly, the pic of the enhanced frat bros @nation-of-bros