#(answer: for a moment he forgot the goal and just started talking about his own life experiences instead of the dude bill's targeting)

[ckret2]

scene i'm cutting from next chapter, but it's funny enough I'm posting it alone. In which Stan tries to tell Bill how to seduce a guy by lying about his job.

####

In the living room, Stan said, "If you wanna play it safe, say you're in the house of representatives! If she says, 'You're not the guy I voted for,' you can say, 'I'm in one of the other districts!' She won't know the difference, there's like a hundred representatives—"

"435 representatives," Ford called, leaning out of the kitchen. "But Bill's target is a government agent, he might be on top of politics."

"Oh, right. So much for posing as a politician."

"Hey," Bill said, "what if I pull out the senator top hat, think that'd sell the story?"

"Bad idea," Stan said. "It'd make you look too tall. Guys hate it when their date's taller than them."

"Is that real?" Ford asked, drifting over to the living room doorway. "I've always heard that, but I've never been bothered by a date that's taller than me."

Stan gave him a baffled look, trying to figure out whether Ford had ever told him about dating someone taller than him; but Bill just rolled his eye and said, "Of course you're not bothered, considering who your first crush was!" He lowered his voice just a fraction. "Hey, do you still have dreams about pinning her against the wall?"

Ford turned beet red, muttered something noncommittal, and slunk back toward the kitchen. As he left, he heard Stan hiss, "Hey, who was his first crush? He always refused to tell me."

"Mothgar."

"Wh—the giant, radioactive moth? From the monster movies?" 

"How many other Mothgars do you know?"

Luckily, the kids in the kitchen were too caught up in their own conversation to listen in on the living room discussion. When Ford returned, Dipper was saying, "I'm not sure about this plan. I know Bill's good at tricking people, but... he's so annoying. And not in a lovable way."

"Don't undersell him!" Mabel said. "He has the potential to be a dreamboat!"

Ford muttered, "He's a manipulative, murderous monster." Who knew too many embarrassing secrets, didn't share the ones you wanted to know, and spilled all the ones you didn't want shared.

[umishiqu]

hi!!! i loved reading your post analysing scarabia and their dynamic!! they're very detailed and thought-through, top-notch all and all! i was wondering if you could clear something up? you say kalim and jamil are codependent (and i agree ofc), but in what way is jamil dependent on kalim? what needs does kalim help him meet? is it just financial dependence, or is there something like emotional dependence too? i cant quite put my finger on it! thank u in advance! <3 never stop posting lol

thank you for reading! im sorry this took a while, i had this written out a while ago and i just forgot to post sobs. this a lot + book 7 spoilers so warning in advance

so besides the obvious answer of “kalim is the obstacle between jamil and his parents for jamil to not get beat by them over book 4”, or purely financial dependence, i think we can do a little better than that, but we’ll need to go over some things first lmao

first off, i would like to clear up what codependency means. codependency is an imbalanced relationship between two people where one is considered as the “giver” and one is considered as the “taker”. a lot of people assume that they only strictly follow one role in a codependent relationship, and while this may be true in some especially abusive relationships, the relationship between Jamil and Kalim has either of them prioritizing the others’ wants and needs over their own in different ways or different situations (both assume the roles of givers and takers at different times, even without duress). I won’t include book 4 moments bcuz this was especially a time where both of them were under duress for different reasons (and behaviour in relationships change depending on how much stress you apply, so it’s not a good control for finding symptoms).

not to say they’re not under constant stress all the time, but particularly when it comes to each other - jamil with balancing his mixed feelings about Kalim even more with him insulting him to dorm students while keeping amicable facades, and kalim with his concern over Jamil that he made clear to yuu and spent his non-hypnotized time trying to make things easier on jamil + help his dorm students at the same time - it ends up heightening even more.

another thing before I can start talking bcuz context is important; people assume kalim has more power than he actually has (if the Asim family were punitive, why do people constantly attempt to kill him/why hasn’t some family members been prosecuted? the public is mainly unaware of what goes on). and assume that jamil has less power than he actually has (confirmed by jamil’s initial attempts at cooking in Jade’s Halloween story - this wasn’t a job, the adults in the estate were telling Jamil that children shouldn’t use utensils or fire/they didn’t want them doing dangerous work) (it’s why I stress that Jamil’s parents wanted him to make good to kalim all the time rather than it be an expectation of a formal contract). this is important to the context of kalim and jamil’s actions and what they generally could and couldn’t do in relation to each other, as well as explaining what specifically stops them from being able to do certain things.

okie last thing; people assume the point of keeping them together is to work towards a healthy relationship but I think canon accepts the two of them together with or without the healthy part. part of scarabia students value is to go through the hard route to get to the end goal, if the reward is that valuable. (the latter is something Jamil has to realize).

anyway with those few things out of the way, not even considering book 4 and how kalim would send himself back to his estate (where they try to kill him + he has a lack of freedom) just to help jamil, or lie to jade while hypnotized even though he knew it was bad for him just to help Jamil, a lot of kalim’s attempts at being the “giver” in the relationship is greatly tied to the idea of self-worth. specifically, how he affirms Jamil’s ego - and to do this, either conceals himself in the process (to the point where even jamil doesn’t realize it/the narrative doesn’t emphasize it) (and esp when kalim, who says he himself has a problem with not able to voice all of his thoughts out into the open, and also does not trip up easily when things don’t go according to plan except in a few cases, doesn’t make room for the narrative to emphasize this either), or affirms Jamil skills to the point of extremity (where in jamil’s cooking card, jamil’s cooking in general looks really plain - he didn’t listen to when najma said it, but his clubmates confirmed it. it’s half implied part of the reason for this is bcuz kalim compliments jamil and his cooking in general way too much, and doesn’t point out the small details unless asked, so a “truth” was created in jamil’s mind about this).

anyway, back to the first point there; I think the most interesting example of “kalim concealing himself” (that comes to mind) is in kalim’s lab coat card, where he was using the kitchen for his homework, it blows up, and then he tells Jamil that they need to get it fixed so Jamil can cook food for their party. the entire party wasn’t actually for kalim’s enjoyment or just a whim, it was originally to allow jamil to make friends with other people through acts of service, as well as a way for jamil to show off his skills the first is something kalim himself is concerned over when it comes to jamil, but never mentions the point of the party to Jamil until the end of the story where it didn’t matter bcuz that party wasn’t happening anymore. kalim wanted to explain himself to Jamil to explain his actions. Jamil stopped it from happening so it didn’t matter at that point anymore whether Kalim said it or not, and I don’t think he initially mentioned it bcuz who would like to hear that he was concerned over your ability to make friends... the second is something jamil is actively concerned about.

back to the story; jamil gets mad at him over the last minute party - and then kalim cancels the party (but starts another one for ruggie instead). however, he’s still carrying out acts with jamil’s wishes in mind. it’s why kalim tells ruggie he needs to take responsibility for getting jamil upset, decides to cook as well, but also says he can’t cook with utensils bcuz jamil told him not to. in general, this is him attempting to do things the way jamil would want from him, but things like restrictions on cooking (that are actually a callback to the adults of the asim estate telling jamil as a child that children shouldn’t be using utensils or fire to cook) (and then jamil applying that to kalim, as if he were a child…) but also that Kalim not cooking meaning he isn’t taking responsibility for the party himself… means there were a lot of crazy loopholes kalim had to find to figure out how to best help jamil. and at the end, he still uses the whole “i got to cook myself!” to uplift Jamil and emphasize his skills. the whole line of thinking is “so if jamil doesn’t want to show his cooking skills to others, does he just not want the party? okay, someone else wants the party, but last time i tried to hold a party, jamil got mad over it, so i need to take responsibility for the party myself by cooking this time! i still have a small habit of relying on Jamil, but i won’t! …but im not allowed to cook conventionally, so what if i just use magic to cook? oh! jamil showed up at the party! jamil, i did cook this all with help from ruggie with magic, but it just shows how amazing you are! to show how important your words are to me, like i promised, even though i made all this food you can cook a meal for me, jamil!”. the idea is that kalim is able to learn to cook, and outright asks ruggie to teach him, but juggling what jamil wanted in general means that he doesn’t go for obvious options that should have been available to him. even kalim taking the perspective of “cooking” was him doing it with Jamil in mind, beginning and end, and not solely his own desire.

(outside of his relationship with Jamil, this is something that is pretty consistent throughout Kalim’s development; for example, playfulland where Floyd and Jade tell him not to let other people bud him in line bcuz it holds it up for everyone else, then the tweels attempting to bud other people by scaring the ever-loving shit out of them, and then kalim realizes the point isn’t the position in line or how it would make other people feel, but everyone’s boredom of waiting, so he tries to put on a performance to keep everyone entertained. and then a staff comes in with another “restriction” and it’s that no unauthorized street performances are allowed period.)

but it’s a little more complex than “Kalim listens to everything Jamil tells him”. he still does things in his attempts to help Jamil (or help others in general, but we’re specifically talking abt Jamil lmao) that may go against what Jamil wants/is done generally behind his back. the overarching example of this is when it comes to poison. kalim and jamil don’t do things in a vacuum, some of what they do is directly in response to another’s - and that initial reaction could have been a response to something else. it’s the same here - Jamil feels obligated to taste test for poison for Kalim, and this ended up with him going into a coma (im going to emphasize that jamil is not the only one who went comatose from poison). to prevent kalim from getting poisoned, Jamil also decided to cook all of kalim’s meals himself. he wasn’t the only one trying to find solutions to this; kalim decides to learn to detect poisons himself and thus was not poisoned since he was 14 years old. this means that Jamil no longer needed to taste test food bcuz it’s redundant - kalim can eat by detecting poison at the first bite and spit it out before anything happens. it’s implied (at least through the manga) that this was thorough education on his part and may or may not have involved getting physically familiar with the poisons (like the poison vault kalim decides as a first solution to the first years not being able to remember poisonous plants) (but the poison vault didn’t just include poisonous plants, but every poison under the sun…).

anyway, back to the “haven’t been poisoned since I was 14” thing. what’s interesting is that Jamil chalks this up only to Jamil taste testing his food for him. and… Kalim doesn’t say anything else about what he himself has done to help. the time when Kalim mentions being able to detect poison in the main story is in book 5. it generally painted jamil with an all-competent narrative in book 4, and is part of the reason why people didn’t understand that kalim knows how to detect poison himself (even though it says so in his profile…). “if Jamil was doing all this, why would Kalim need to? isn’t that just another thing jamil convinced Kalim he knew how to do it even if Jamil did it better?” - except we get explicit confirmation from the main story that, like how jamil’s skills weren’t getting properly recognized, kalim’s weren’t either. he didn’t want Jamil to suffer. even worse, bcuz he not only didn’t want Jamil to suffer from being physically hurt, but also wanted to listen to jamil’s desires to show his skills and emphasize them to everyone else, it meant kalim didn’t try to get jamil to stop even though he knew what to do about the poison himself. it’s why kalim settles on the solution to only eat things jamil makes him - or if he or Jamil watches the person making his meals. this solution allows for jamil to be safe and for Jamil to show his skills, but in case anything happens, Kalim can detect the poison (implied to be everything except with curries, which makes sense bcuz that’s a blend of spices that may be too much to pick out the poison from). “if kalim knew that Jamil has troubles in book 4 why didn’t he-“ this is mainly your answer. he’s practically explored all avenues, even when it comes to the extremes like life and death, to balance the things Jamil wanted.

beyond that, the point is that Kalim is a character with his own stakes as well. him doing or not doing things is tied with jamil’s desires and wants. he didn’t care for most of it, including the ones that restricted him and what kalim could learn to do himself (where Kalim can say he was helping as an equal, because he was helping Jamil to show his skills when comparing him to Kalim bcuz Jamil wouldn’t do it otherwise bcuz of the Viper parents - and this actually worked to earn the respect of the Scarabia dorm students when they say a Viper child would be more fitting as a dorm leader), until he realized in book 4 and says in book 5 that this not only extended to these things but things like competitions or ranking systems where Kalim genuinely thought his skills were better until he realizes Jamil was letting him win most of the time (when he’s normally good at being self aware of what his strengths and weaknesses are). unlike the aforementioned times, there was nothing Kalim was doing in those situations to help; it’s the same problem Jamil has with other people where they assume a level of pride over skills that they have over other people that may or may not be true, as stated in book 6. we as the audience didn’t initially see it like that from Kalim’s end bcuz Kalim is rly good at supporting Jamil and his narrative, and most people don’t have the opinion that Kalim is good at some things. thankfully this is realized and kalim starts to work on his independence.

why is jamil dependant on this? it’s an avenue of jamil to show his competence, and most likely how he didn’t go completely insane, stir-crazy, or end up in a depressive funk over his situation. but more likely evidence of this is jamil’s reactions (before book 7, at least) when Kalim breaks his expectations/other people break Jamil’s expectations of his own skills. the most tame examples of this is jamil getting a little bit sentimental (or a lot) if Kalim breaks expectations and not rly knowing how to conduct himself/getting uncomfortable. the most extreme example is in jamil’s cooking card, where he sees it as an insult to his pride over his skills so he tries to rectify it.

to sum it up; kalim, much like jamil with kalim in said aforementioned situation, was giving jamil a similar truth in his mind. he normally prioritizes this; he only does things behind jamil’s back that jamil won’t like when he has concerns over safety, and will also try to hide this generally from others if it can also help to emphasize jamil’s “truth” in his (and others’) mind. jamil was reliant enough on this truth to 1. continue doing things the way he always has been even if kalim was expanding his skills, and 2. develop an image of jamil’s own skills in his mind that may or may not have aligned with reality.

there’s a few other things I could mention, like how Jamil says that Kalim like all Scarabia students know how to do his makeup, but Jamil still does it every morning; or how Kalim knows how to wrap his turban, and has multiple ways of wrapping the headband according to tamashina mina, but jamil still does it + kalim tries to get yuu to do it in one of his voice lines… there’s a lot. it might be easier to say that kalim is completely dependent on jamil and not the other way around, but there are things Kalim did do before book 4 that gave Jamil room outside of his mindset to be able to have the rep he did (before book 4 lmao).

ofc, jamil may have just seen everything as an obligation on his part to comply, or maybe a part of him did see opportunity in what was happening. but in some if not most cases in their interactions, he had to rely on these ideas to build an ego/avoid an ego death. it’s an abstract concept but we do have canon evidence that the interpretation that they’re both codependent on each other is closer to canon than most think; in book 7, it is part of why kalim, although a servant who can do things for jamil, was still in jamil’s dream. said directly in canon, kalim was the reason jamil’s skills developed/were recognized. kalim now being a servant doesn’t change this, bcuz the same “giving” and “taking” applies here when it comes to jamil’s skills. bcuz this is something they both actively did, it doesn’t matter who the servant or master is in the context, it’ll happen anyway to form a similar ego for jamil whether he is the master or servant. i feel like that’s pretty big evidence anyway.

thank you for enjoying my thoughts again!!! it was fun answering this. hope this was all self-explanatory and if there needs to be clarification let me know 🙏

[haleingstorm]

Thanks for your reply :D And oh, I should have clarified this, but I'd like to see what Percy's death and his secret relationship with Ethan (who died and also returned to the past) would look like in your fanfiction.

Now I want to send you what I came up with today.

The first thing they do when they realize where they are and that it's most likely their Percy, and even if it's not, it's just Percy, the Percy they've lost, they run to the infirmary, some even barefoot. Everyone stares at them in incomprehension and tries to ask, but they are only pushed away. Clarisse, Will, Travis and Conner, Pollux, Katie and Annabeth can't see beyond their goal of getting to Percy. As soon as possible.

What would their reunion scene look like in your opinion?

P.S. - you can decide for yourself whether to add Ethan or not.

I have to admit I'm a little confused by your request, hopefully this answers it! If not, feel free to ask more clarifying questions.

So for Percy and Ethan's relationship, the real question here is how long does it take for them to realize the other has traveled back in time? Capture the Flag is an easy answer for Ethan obviously Percy is not the same 12 year old he was the last time around. But Percy's harder because the question here is... Is he looking? Does he expect Ethan to come back? The answer to this is probably no, just because Ethan was already dead. Maybe Percy desperately wishes that it wasn't the case, but he can't stop and mourn for too long. That journey leads to madness, utter madness. So for Percy I would say that it takes him at least until after he gets back from the quest to figure out what's up with Ethan.

whether or not Ethan joins up with the rest of the time travelers or stays a loner is an interesting question. I doubt the time travelers would be very open to him, even if he was in a relationship with Percy he was still on the wrong side of the war.

For the reunion, it would be messy, very messy. The time travelers actions have now put them in a tough position where a bunch of people know something is off with these people. Percy at this point also isn't awake fully, drifting in and out of conscienceness. I think once the time travelers have seen Percy with their own eyes rational reason starts to take over and they realize HOLY SHIT we fucked up. And then frantically have to figure out a cover. Especially because at this point Luke is still fully in Kronos's pocket so if he finds out Kronos finds out and they are all fucked.

But, of course after Percy is up and walking around the time travelers basically kidnap him and hug the ever loving daylights out of him. Even Clarisse doesn't bother pretending like she doesn't care, hugging Percy close because it reminds her that he's alive, he's here she didn't fail. Annabeth wouldn't leave his side not even for a moment. Travis tries to play it cool with only a side arm hug, or a shoulder bump, but inside he's near tears. Connor isn't as good at hiding his feelings even if he's trying. the tears are fully pouring and he hesitates because he and Percy weren't really hug level of friends. But also he just needs to hold him for a moment, to feel his heart beat. Pollux and Katie are the calmest, but that might just be because they are the best at staying put together. Katie can't stop smiling, but she hangs back letting others take their time. She knows Percy isn't going away, and something about seeing him moving, talking, living is enough to settle her at least for now. Pollux is also smiling though his is more subdued. He is the best actor out of all of them, the most able to put his feelings aside and play a part. Even if on the inside he can't quite believe this is real.

Just realized I totally forgot about Will. He's there, obsessively checking over Percy's still healing injuries, trying to speed it along, fearful that if he misses something then Percy will crumple and hell lose him again.

[hold-him-down]

Welcome Home, Derek

TW: mostly angst, some light med whump, post prison whump

part one part two part three part four

✥ ✥ ✥

Twelve hours later, the plane landed. Derek wasn’t easily awoken, and Jack reminded himself of the room in the airport.

“Derek,” he whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Buddy, wake up.”

Derek’s eyelids fluttered open, his eyes slow to focus. “We’re home,” Jack whispered, but there was no ease in his voice. He was under no illusion that the hard part was over, and in fact, he had a sneaking suspicion that the worst was yet to come.  

Immediately, Derek sought out his bag, relief flooding his features at the realization that it was untouched, securely wrapped around in his fingers.

The agent walked down the aisle, his eyes on Derek. “Welcome home, kid,” he said. His voice held no enthusiasm, no promise of good things to come. He took a seat across the aisle from Derek and Jack, hands on his knees. “Remember,” he started, “the reporters will want to talk to you.” He smiled, looking Derek over. “We have an agent waiting at the gate that will deal with it. You do not need to stop to speak with them, there will be plenty of opportunities for you to make a statement over the next few days. There’s a car waiting to get you to the hospital. We’ll need to get through customs and then we’ll head that way. Sound good?” 

“Okay,” Derek replied. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” His expression softened then. “Derek,” the agent said, “no one expects you to do this on your own. If anyone pushes you to answer any questions, to do anything you’re uncomfortable with at all, you’ve got an army of people here who will intervene on your behalf. Alright?”

Derek nodded again. The agent’s smile tightened and he returned the gesture, standing. “Alright,” he said, and led them to the door.

Things moved quickly then. They made their way through the airport in a sort of robotic nature, with the primary goal of getting out with as little attention as possible. They bypassed a group of reporters who shouted for Derek, for his parents, and interestingly, even for Jack; the agents positioned themselves to shield Derek from sight, but there were… a lot of people there. Jack didn’t reach out to take Derek’s hand, but he took a step closer as they hurried through the corridor. Derek followed his parents silently, keeping his head down.  

Customs was easy enough: they were brought to a private room and spoken to about next steps, passports were scanned, pictures were taken, and everything was kept surface level. When they finally got to the waiting car, everything stood still. 

“You’re… you’re going to the hospital,” Jack said.

Derek nodded. “I–” The question on everyone’s mind didn’t need to be spoken.

“I'll go to a hotel, get showered and pick you up some things?” Jack offered, eager to take the pressure off of Derek to navigate the moment. During one of the endless briefings in Turkey, Mr. Lewis had heavily implied that Jack should plan not to attend at the hospital. He reluctantly agreed, and figured he would cross that bridge when he got there. And here was the goddamn bridge, and he was no closer to knowing how to cross it. On one hand, he didn’t want to make a scene or add any extra stress where it wasn’t needed. On the other, the idea of leaving Derek, now, made him want to scream.

“You can stay at our house,” Mrs. Lewis offered, “Don’t be silly.” 

Jack nodded, feeling the tension roll off of Mr. Lewis. “Yeah, I–” He paused, then smiled evenly. “That sounds great.” 

Mrs. Lewis scribbled down the address and pushed it into his hands. “In case you forgot it,” she said. They both knew he hadn’t.

Jack put it in his pocket anyway, just in case. What Jack said next did very nearly kill him, but he turned his attention to Derek, standing perfectly still behind his parents, his grip unshakeable on his bag. “Will you call me? As soon as you’re done with the doctor?”

Derek nodded. 

“Your mom has my number,” Jack continued. “Just– send me a list, okay? Of any snacks you want, or… clothes, books, movies… anything you need, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said softly. “I will.”

Derek hesitated to get into the car. Jack watched his back, watched every deep breath that seemingly rattled in his lungs, watched the tension roll through him, until something shifted, and he climbed in, closing the door. He glanced at Jack through the tinted window as the car pulled away, and Jack stood, alone at the airport, and tried to smile. It was temporary. Derek would go to the hospital, do what he needed to do, and Jack would be there, whenever he was ready. 

When the car turned out of sight, Jack took a deep, steadying breath. He would not cry, he would not panic, he would not do anything silly.

He found a curb and sat down, his duffle bag next to him, and opened his phone. Ninety-three missed calls.

✥ ✥ ✥

“Where are you?” came a kind of shout-speaking from the other end of the line. It was the first time in over a year he had spoken to James, former best friend to Derek and once inseparable from the two of them.

“I’m at the airport,” he said. Specifically, he was sitting on the curb having a big moment, but he didn’t need to get into that.

“I’m across the street– I’ll come get you. Are you with Derek?” James’s voice was guarded. He was across the street? In Maine? The last time Jack had casually-and-not-at-all-pathetically perused his instagram, he was living in Chicago. 

“No,” Jack responded, trying to keep the angst from his voice, to exude the absolute calmness that he believed he could make himself feel with enough willpower. “Derek just left for the hospital, the fucking government or whatever is making him go through a bunch of protocols before he’s allowed to take a fucking breath. His goddamn father won’t look at me, let alone let me stay with them, his mom’s a mess, and Derek is… Derek is suffering because of all of it. Every step has been made harder and–” So much for the keeping calm thing. He blinked, pausing. “Sorry," he said evenly. "I think I’m grumpy.”

“I’ll say,” James said. “I’m coming there, where are you specifically?”

“I’m under a billboard for lobster rolls.” 

“There’s a hundred billboards for lobster rolls, Jack, we’re in fucking Maine–”

Jack squinted up. “I’m under the one with a lobster wearing sunglasses, wholly unaware that some embassy agent douche bag is coming to fuck up its life–”

Three minutes later, a beat-up cavalier rolled to a stop in front of him.

“Did you drive here?” Jack asked James as he dragged himself into the passenger seat.

“From Chicago? No. I flew here as soon as I got your email. This car is rented. Twenty-five, baby. Speaking of which, an email? That’s what I get after seven years of your crap?”

Jack took a breath. “Oh my god, I forgot I even sent that. I was with Derek, and he is… it is bleak,” he said matter-of-factly. “As soon as they called I got on a plane, and it hasn’t really let up since then.” 

“What happened? Last I heard things weren't looking good.” 

Jack leveled him a sharp glance.

“Come on,” James said, veering onto the highway. “It’ll feel good to let it out, right? Over drinks?” At Jack’s laugh, he amended, “I mean, over dinner?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Might as well– I’ve been tasked with waiting for a text to tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

“From his parents?”

“Or him, I don’t know. I’m open to hearing from literally anyone who wants to text me.” Jack looked at his phone, which boasted a strong zero notifications, then shoved it into his pocket. “I’m giving them an hour, and then I’m going to the hospital.”

“There’s no way that would backfire,” James said. Jack was pretty sure he was being sarcastic, but he was too tired to care. They drove three miles in relative silence until James pulled into the drive thru, ordered, and then parked. He turned to Jack. “I can tell this sucks for you. I’m sure it sucks for his parents, and I can’t even imagine what he’s going through. Bring me up to speed.”

Jack recalled the last few days, leaving out some of the more potent bits (specifically, the ones in which Derek was naked and afraid of him). James knew about their relationship, but it still wasn’t the coziest discussion. Still, it felt nice to kind of release some of the tension he’d been hanging onto.

“Wow,” James said after he’d finished. And then, he added, “Shit.” 

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to stay with them tonight?”

“I don’t know. Mrs. Lewis, I think, is genuine in her offer, but I don’t want to overwhelm Derek, or like… impose on their family or whatever.” Jack pulled his phone back out and stared down at it, willing it to light up. 

“Since when have you cared about imposing on them?”

“Since Derek came back into the picture, I guess. I just don’t want it to be too much for him.”

“His family is one-thousand-percent going to be too much for him. Maybe you being there will help take some of the pressure off… that whole reunion?” They both moved their attention toward the front window, lost in thought as they ate in silence. “I guess just see what he wants to do? Is there a hotel nearby? We can be roomies again for a few days?”

There were several, it turned out. They checked into the one closest to Derek’s house. Jack showered and changed into his last pair of clean clothes while James worked (from his computer, he was very serious now, it turned out), and then they waited, catching up on life. 

Jack received updates from Mrs. Lewis throughout the day, which was enough to keep him somewhere in the ballpark of level-headed.

Even so, he was desperate for the moment he could book it for Derek’s house, but he meant what he had said to James. They both knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy transition for Derek, and he was sure the list of people who wanted his attention was long. He was also sure that Derek wasn’t going to be interested in freely giving out his attention, so he would wait. If he didn’t hear directly from Derek by nightfall, he would make a new plan.

He didn’t need to. At exactly 9:17 p.m., his phone buzzed.

✥ ✥ ✥

Derek was distantly aware of his parents' eyes glued on him, but he was numb. He sat still as he rode to the hospital, the lines between past and present blurring to a point where he fully detached himself from any of it. He wasn’t sure if it was the effects of the drugs or the stress, or if it was something else entirely. He held onto his documents and his backpack and he kept his mind blank, his only focus on making it from one moment to the next. 

The hospital was overwhelming. He had been ushered inside and directed to a small, overly sterile room, where he sat alone, trying not to focus on all of the medical equipment surrounding him. He knew rationally that this was good, that he was home, that he was safe. But no matter what he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t get a grip on his body’s reaction to… everything.

Every sound, every shadow. Every movement in his peripheries triggered some fucked up fight or flight response and it was catching up with him. He didn’t allow himself to wonder if he would ever be okay again. He was taking it second by second, and that was all he could do.

He sat as still as he could with the doctor, following each direction the best that he could. He knew if he didn’t do well with the doctor, he would be punished for it, and that thought terrified him. The thought that they could send him back to prison, and he would definitely not survive a second time, crept in and out of his mind. He still hadn’t quite figured out how he made it out this time. 

He had stripped his clothing methodically, only pausing briefly at the very beginning. For all that had happened, for all that he’d been through, while the concept of nudity no longer struck any chords, the concept of another stranger seeing him, taking in his injuries, inventing rationales, telling his parents, twisted at his gut. The near-constant staring at him, at the bags under his eyes, at his hollow cheeks, at the various cuts and bruises.. 

He was grateful that he was given a gown, if just to cover some of the bruises. And the doctor, to his credit, cleared his throat and worked in relative, albeit overtly alarmed, silence.

Derek had taken breaths as big as he could but he knew they weren’t what the doctor wanted by the expression on his face. His hands shook as he tried to hold them in for longer, to breathe in deeper. Eventually the doctor set down his stethoscope and Derek hoped that it had been enough, and that the doctor got whatever he wanted to get from him.

His jaw was set as the doctor touched him, along his ribs and his stomach. He tried to think about Jack, and of the two nights they got to be near each other, and the feeling that was the closest thing to safety that he could remember. He spent the last several years thinking he’d never see him again, and so, in the moments when he knew he was near his breaking point, he tried to think about the next time.

The doctor continued giving him directions, and he tried to keep up. He gave him more shots and kept touching him and god, he wished Jack had stayed. That Jack had gotten in the car and had come to the hospital with him. He knew that he hadn’t articulated that well enough (had he articulated it at all?), that the words had caught in his throat. 

He was given little cup-fulls of medicine and made to drink more water and asked question after question after question that he just didn’t know the answers to. Some questions, he knew, would lead to more, and he desperately wanted to lie in those moments, to spare himself the uncomfortable silence and the even more uncomfortable procedures, but the doctor seemed to know the answers based on his expression alone. When he last ate, if anything hurt, when he had last received medical treatment, if his bones had been set after they’d been broken, if he’d been assaulted physically, if he’d been raped. To his credit, he didn’t shed a tear during the three-hour exam. Not when the doctor’s hands were on him, not when he was left alone for periods of time, and not when he recounted the various reasons for the more fresh injuries.

He tried to listen as the doctor explained which pills to take when, and what needed to happen next, and what was wrong with him, but the lines of reality all blurred, until finally he asked the doctor if he could close his eyes. After a too-long sigh, the doctor nodded.  

So Derek closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

It wasn’t long before he was handed a clean pair of clothes. He pulled them on as quickly as he could.

Against all odds, he made it to the car. He sat in the back of a black Lexus, his mom, anxious and red-eyed, climbing in next to him. When he looked in her direction, offering her the closest approximation of a smile that he could form, she cried harder. Between sobs, she whispered, “It’s okay.” He knew that it wasn’t. He was a mere shell of the boy she had left at the airport eight years ago, but he wasn’t stupid.

As the streets started to become more familiar, his chest tightened. All of his muscles were tense, his eyes scanning the neighborhoods anxiously as home drew closer. Derek hadn't wrapped his head around the idea of home yet... He didn’t think he would ever see this place again. 

His fingers clutched the straps of the backpack tightly, housing his only earthly possessions. 

When the car turned onto his street, he pressed his face closer to the window. In front of his house was... His eyes narrowed, taking in the sight before him. They threw some kind of party? 

“What is all this?” It was his mom who spoke.

“I’m not sure,” said his dad from the front.

Big posters and cards and banners that said things like, Welcome Home, Derek and, God Has Answered Our Prayers and, We Missed You, were hung all along the railing of the porch. There were wrapped boxes and baskets and balloons and flowers stacked on the chairs, the table, the steps. He couldn’t see any people at the house, which he was grateful for, but saw his neighbors peeking out the windows as the car came to a stop.

He swallowed back bile as his stomach turned over.

“It’s okay,” his mom said, and he watched as her hand moved closer to his face. She was going to touch him, and he needed to be still. He closed his eyes and turned his mouth into the closest thing he could get to a smile, but he thought it probably didn’t look right, because she backed away from him quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Let’s get you inside.”

As he made his way to the front door, he tried to keep all the sounds separate, listening for any signs of danger. He scanned the yard, swallowing, and followed his father through the front door. He felt no safer inside than he had in the car, but still, he followed his parents to the kitchen; it all felt wrong. This wasn't his house anymore. He didn’t have a house anymore.

Distantly, he heard his mother talking. She was talking to him? “–call Jack?” was all he caught.

“I’m sorry?” he asked. “I didn’t –”

“We can call Jack if you want? I’m sure he’s nearby.”

Derek couldn’t completely comprehend what was happening; he didn’t know what he wanted. “Yeah,” he eventually said, not even entirely sure what the question was. “Do you– is there somewhere I can… lay down? Just for a little bit?” 

His mom plastered a smile to her face and nodded, leading him up the stairs. “This is still your bedroom,” she said, opening the door. He nodded and walked in, setting his bag carefully on the bed. “Derek,” she said. “This is still your house. No matter what, okay?” 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low. She nodded and closed the door. Derek turned in a complete circle in the small bedroom, trying to figure out where he was, who he was, how to… what he was supposed to do here. What was he supposed to do? In the background, memories of the prison, and more recently, memories of the doctors, flashed through his imagination and he sank down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. He pictured Jack’s face, Jack’s voice, to help drown out the noise. 

When the blackness that threatened his vision receded, he grabbed his bag from the bed and set it on the floor in front of him. He brushed his hand over the small patch and opened it, pulling out one of the envelopes. He swallowed. He had read it a thousand times already, and had long since committed it to his memory.

It was one of the last letters he had received before the guards stopped letting him read them; they came in one afternoon and took them away, as though they were nothing. He thought they had been destroyed. When the agent handed them to him in the hotel, it took him a moment to even realize what they were.

There was a knock on the door, and he moved to put the letter back in the bag, but paused, opting instead to place it under the mattress. It might be better to keep them separated, the small voice in the corner of his mind told him. It wasn't rational, but it was an easy enough modification, and if they took his bag from him, at least he had the one.

“Come in,” he eventually said.

“Hey, pal,” he heard, as a man walked in. He closed the door behind him and turned, allowing Derek his first look at him. 

“Arlo?” Derek asked, taken aback. He stood as he looked him over twice, still not believing what he was seeing. He was… tall. He was full grown. An adult person, something Derek did not expect to see. “Arlo,” he said again, this time it was just a gasp. 

“Dad said you looked like shit but I didn’t believe him,” Arlo said with an easy smile. “What happened to your hair?”

“The doctor in Turkey shaved it,” Derek replied, not sure if Arlo was joking. He felt the familiar pangs of panic rising in his chest, the words pouring out of him too quickly. “There was… Uh, I think there was lice. It was too much and would have been too hard to deal with, and I said it was... I said it was okay.” He could feel his chest constricting, his breaths coming too fast. 

Derek couldn’t say why, but something in him snapped. It was like the weight of the world crashed down around him. Arlo closed the distance between them silently, wrapping his arms around him. Derek felt himself come undone. He tried to stop this. He tried to make his mind go blank, to find that place in the corner of his imagination that was warm and safe and that no one could touch him and he wouldn’t be sad or lonely or hurt. He had learned to go there when he could, and it had offered him reprieve. But Arlo was holding him tightly, and for some goddam unknown reason, he broke. 

Sobs wracked his body, his fingers clutching desperately at the back of Arlo’s shirt. He could feel Arlo’s hand on the back of his neck, and it wasn’t safe, and he knew it wasn’t safe because his neck was exposed but he couldn’t let him go. And he couldn’t fucking breathe. And he couldn’t think, and he sure as shit could not stop crying.

Arlo didn’t speak. He didn’t try to quiet him or tell him it was okay or tell him that he missed him or loved him or that he could talk to him. He just held onto him. Minute after minute after minute passed as Derek fought for control.

When he could finally speak, the words were broken. “I’m sorry,” Derek said, pulling away from his brother. He gasped at breaths, and swallowed back sobs, and blinked away tears. “I’m… I’m not doing too well over here,” he gasped.

“I know,” Arlo responded. 

He sat on the bed, moving the bag slightly to the side. Derek automatically darted toward it in a move to protect it and Arlo bristled, handing it to him. “Sorry,” he said. “I should have asked.”

“Is there anything I can do to make this better for you?” he asked. “I know Mom and Dad are doing their best, but they’re–” he gestured vaguely “A lot.”

Derek nodded, carefully sitting down next to his brother. The mattress was soft and inviting, but felt more dangerous than anything else. 

“I’d ask you how prison was, but I feel like I already know the answer.” 

Derek let himself smile, attempting to wipe the still-falling tears from his cheeks. “Yeah,” he said. “It wasn’t great.” 

“Well,” Arlo replied. “You’re home now. What's the first thing you want to do? Has there been anything you've been missing desperately?"

Derek shook his head. “After a while, I just kind of blocked everything out. At first, you know, thinking of home helped. But eventually it just hurt more, and then I just... stopped.”

Arlo nodded. 

“I don’t know,” Derek said. "I don't feel like I really know anything. Can you just... just talk to me? Tell me a story,” he whispered. It was something Arlo used to sneak in and ask Derek for every night, after their parents went to bed. Derek would stay up for hours making up stories for his brother, until Arlo would fall asleep on the floor, and Derek would cover him up and turn out the lights. 

Arlo smiled. He leaned back against the wall and started talking, the cadence of his voice easy and light. He reviewed what the family had been up to, where everyone was. He went through an itemized list of church gossip, ending with the bombshell that he, and their parents, had left the Church all together, and would thus be promptly spending eternity in Hell with Derek. 

Their sister was in England for the semester, which their parents were reluctant to even allow, and it had been a massive disagreement where she threatened to run away forever. She was studying humanities at Boston University and was actively throwing her whole self into trying to do good in the world. As the words tumbled out of Arlo, Derek found himself breathing easier. And Arlo asked nothing in return. He didn't ask questions, he didn't make demands. 

There came a moment where Derek didn't think he could stay awake any longer, and he curled up on top of the covers, letting his eyes slip shut.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Arlo asked softly, as he stood from the bed. He pulled a blanket out of the closet and draped it over his brother. "Food? Water? Anything?"

“I was supposed to call Jack, but I... I'm having trouble with..." Derek paused. "I haven’t been able to.”

Arlo smiled and nodded. “Let me see your phone,” he said. Arlo keyed in Jack’s number seemingly from memory and texted him, then laid the phone on the bed next to Derek. He knelt next to the bed, close to Derek but without touching him. “Do you want me to leave the lights on or off?” he whispered, Derek’s eyes already closed.

“Off,” Derek responded, curling tighter under the blanket. Arlo hit the switch on his way out.

Seconds later, the phone lit up. 

I’ll be there. Ten minutes.

DEREK’S BACK TAG LIST:  @whump-cravings @crystalquartzwhump @redwingedwhump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @nami-writes @peachy-panic @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @whump-blog @pumpkin-spice-whump @quietly-by-myself @whumpcereal @whump-queen @pigeonwhumps @squishablesunbeam @bumpthumpwhump @writereleaserepeat @susiequaz12 @rabass @whumpsday

[whenthechickencry]

Umineko EP6. Replay Part 2

Rosa still has conflicted feelings about Maria's dad.... which is quite sad. You are in your entire right to hate him Rosa common, but she hates herself so damaging her is ultimately something she can forgive.

These scenes make me sigh out loud so often. It wasn't a trial of love Rosa. You never deserved it and you are never going to get rewarded for it. It's just so sad to me to see how stuck she is.... but like she says she doesn't have the privilege to just forget. She has Maria and her debt as constant reminders. "If she was able to succeed in paying back the loan, ...he might acknowledge her usefulness as wife" God damn it Rosa aaaaa.....

Rosa talks about how she sees Kyrie as an inspiration... after 18 years of waiting in hell her miracle succeeded. Of course, as we just saw, Kyrie is not in fact remotely happy. I think it's easy when you are in a shitty situation to see someone who is, from your perspective, just doing slightly better than you with jealously or goals, because truly happy people don't trigger admiration, they trigger resentment and sadness, since true happiness seems so impossible to you.

Again, the way the Umineko women always see themselves or other women to blame for their misfortune, and not the actual men literally doing it, is so sad. Rosa would rather see herself at fault and hate herself than put the entire blame on the man who caused this. Rosa then talks about how she feels guilty about dragging Maria to hell with her and wishes she was dead.

Zepar Furfur and co start talking about how winning or dying during love is better than staying in between. In other words, you either get with the person you want or you kill that love or else you will suffer, as Sayo did as well. Also, narration describes her youth as the most blissful part of her life... hahahaahah ahhaa ahahaha..... god damn it that's so sad. Diplomatic Immunity? In other words, Kanon is a fictional character in Mariage Sorciere, so he is not allowed to attack other members of it. I forgot how blatant they were here.

Shannon jumps in and still can't attack Maria directly but just kind of crushes Shannon to death with her barrier. Also she needs permission from Maria and she's like "oh this will fuck with Erika" so it can be read as the fake murder plan being explained to Maria, if taken out of meta, haha. Beatrice chooses Natsuhi monologues about how uh, the misogyny her mom faced gives her strength to face the misogyny from Krauss when Beatrice begins immediately talking about the baby she couldn't bear(....). Narration makes the argument she is choosing this because she thinks she made Battler's life hell but uh, no I think there is a simpler reason. She wants her own answers. Beatrice, the human, possesses a weakness to mirror, meaning that isn't part of the Beatrice mythology, the was before meaning Sayo hates seeing her face in the mirror....

Something about how Natsuhi is wielding the mirror - the representation of Sayo's self-hatred and damaging her with it, and how Natsuhi launched the wheels of fate that eventually ended up with Sayo's own fucked up views about herself.... Beatrice was about to lose in her love trial, the part of Sayo that loved Battler was about to go extinct..... when he suddenly comes at the moment that fills her with the most self-doubt in her head.

Battler realizes grooming is bad, it's at least good to see how fast he realized he was hurting her and changes his behavior compared to the other 5 games of torture.

Hachijo and Ange have a talk about how often love is repeated on the tale and how it almost certainly means something - in other words please don't ignore all of these scenes and look into the deeper reasons, why Kanon can't attack Sakutarou, why only one of Shannon/Kanon/Beatrice can find love, why Beatrice doesn't like mirrors, etc. It is the thickest book of answers by now. Erika was literally sleeping through it which maybe shows why her answers suck and why she's kind of a shitty detective. Erika is stripped of the identity she so treasures in order to go along with Bernkastel's trap to screw Battler over.... something she clearly doesn't want to do but. Ange and Featherine really are giving reading comprehension 101 classes lmfao.

Dlanor and Erika lay it pretty thick that the issue with Erika last game was that she didn't check the corpses, aka they were playing dead, Dlanor warns Erika that her eyes can e fooled now so Erika knows she needs to murder everyone later. Haha, I mean, yeah.

The fact this game wouldn't incorporate Sayo's truth at all and would be pretty easy to see through if Bernkastel and Erika didn't get up to their tricks.... yeah that was definitely an intentional play on Battler's part. It wouldn't be a game to prove that he understood the game if he never played with something that required his knowledge of Beatrice, you know? So the fact that the solution after being 'tricked' by Erika DOES require that.... They were 'culprits' aka co-conspirators in the plan, but still, he probably could have gotten away with that red truth -it would just be a little unfair.

How much the narrative talks about Erika controlling the narrative because of this and that.... it's really funny to think all of them are only listening to her bc they are doing an epic prank on her.

This scene is really tender.... the roles are reversed and Battler is waiting for a miracle, which as we know will happen in this game, actually. So unlike the harrowing versions of this scene that were Beatrice trying to coach Battler it feels a lot more positive and tender. Also sets up that Battler probably did the logic error in order to bet on Beatrice solving it for him...

Bern makes it obvious she really, really, hates Beatrice specifically and starts her fooling Battler plan.

They start acting really obviously when Battler gets into the room, haha, Erika starts playing the poor little victim that just needs some help card, and Bernkastel uh, honestly acts around the same she's being extremely abusive but that's normal for her she's just using harsher words and less mental manipulation.

Dlanor is actually the one that lays down the trap.... which ends up being a trap for Erika and Bernkastel you know but.

Erika: Thank you so much for assisting with my performance

Bernkastel: ...Plus I wasn't acting.

Damn. Bernkastel just like nw i was abusing youf for reals lol, bye. Dlanor berates Battler for such a fatal move... it's very fatal for Erika alright.

Jessica talks about how it would be nice if everyone's love could be fulfilled and Zepar and Furfur mention the Golden Land.... George rejects it harshly and Battler speaks of it on a sort of sad note, it is sad that's what Sayo ended up choosing for herself...

The room splitting begins and Erika walks to her tomb throughout all of this,,, kind of sad to have Battler acknowledge her skills when she's walking into the biggest mistake of her life.

That's uh - flying a little close to the sun Battler! Like yes that's what happened but that's a very big hint!

Erika can't help but start gloating as soon as Battler was forced to say everyone, even when, again, that will be her downfall.... everything she does in this episode is leading to her failure it's kind of sad to see.

Yeah, pieces such as Sayo and her characters.... he's foreshadowing the move he will pretend to be the thing that 'saves' him from the logic error already.

Ange and Featherine start explaining what a Logic Error is. Ange starts freaking out and Featherine can point he can just change the trick... which is what he's going to do after a while, actually, but in a4d chess way. Oh no, she is Lambda, you have far too much faith in her, Battler is betting on Erika to be a smug loser and she absolutely is a smug loser. Lambda kind of shits on him for playing with luck, which he absolutely is, but it's consistent with how Erika acts, so....

Battler denies Battler not being anywhere in the room, that fucks up his trick so of course he is going to force her to look before he says anything. Erika makes the fatal mistake of trying to be smug and leave the closet for last in order to own Battler in a fancy way which is going to be her downfall. Erika gets epically pranked, giving Kanon plenty of time to jump into the room and for Battler to set up his Logic Error-Redemption and be saved by Kanon. Battler confirms he was betting on this exact course of action.....

Battler begins talking about hoping for the greatest miracle. Just as Beatrice had trapped herself in an endless torture game in order to get Battler to realize an answer, it is time for Battler to set up endless torture on himself to guide Beatrice to the answer....

Lambdadelta can't help but warn Battler against locking himself in endless torture haha.... there's a reason why they get the power of certainty in EP8!

Battler talks about his games with Beatrice and tells Beatrice that believing will bring about a miracle, in other words, Battler is now Beatrice and Beatrice is now Battler. Erika is so fucking Normal in this scene.... she's so scared that there won't be a logic error haha.... she's just fucking squirming here.

We do the fake fanfare with even Ange joining in, and then Bern and Erika cut him out... also we have a monologue of Lambda being impressed by Battler and accepting defeat. Which is kind of funny as 1. it's crashing down 2. the real miracle hasn't been summoned. These guys are playing so many layers of tricks lmfao. Erika reveals she killed everyone after this.

I do think Battler's disgust at this was probably a bit real though - I am not sure he would enjoy his prank game being turned into a real murder case especially since he's probably trying to come to terms with his family as complete people ala what he was doing in EP8 for Ange but for himself. Even if he suspected it was coming.

Erika is cute when she's excited and happy that her murder and torture plan came through.

Battler is prompting Beatrice to create the answer - I don't really believe Battler can't figure this out on his own. If you already understand the logic that Kanon and Shannon can be there while not physically being there due their nature, it's not hard to extend that logic.

Lambda....

Beato swears he will come to save Battler, and Battler has to wait for his thousand years for the miracle.

We get a ton of details on Sayo as a person here, actually, and Lambda is a sweety and can't help but help someone waiting with certainty for the impossible.

"I still believe he will come back"..... obviously, the love trial is currently representing the years in between Battler leaving. Hahaha, yeah, ahahaha.

Faetherine plays the role of R07 to a very annoyed reader-ange. Also, it's kind of impressive how even smaller lines like this work so well. Neither Takano nor Satoko counted the years during their hell. Rika, of course, wasn't the game master of Higurashi.... a lot of this went over my head when I first played because I hadn't played Higurashi before.

They don't have a lot of nice things to say about Hanyuu in this house, it seems.... Hanyuu is a very interesting character with a fucked up relationship to Rika, as well, but that's not really for right now...

This scene is so interesting as an exploration of trauma from all parties.... Erika shoots back at Lambdadelta for this by saying it's not that time spent in hell but the depth of that hell that counts, and that her hell is no less meaningful than hers, their hell was escapable, her hell isn't. She can only accept the truth but can never escape it. She brings up Bernkastel's past to her and she snaps and Erika pities her for having to always be escaping her hell and never being able to accept it....

Erika monologues about how much she will enjoy being the one defiling Battler and Beatrice by getting in between them instead of being the one that is being defiled.... Would suck to hear that if, say, the person you love disappeared entirely from your life, wouldn't it. If Battler isn't coming it's because Sayo doesn't have enough love.

Zepar and Furfur hammer more that the love trial is the hint that we are getting and Shannon and Kanon decide to have the duel, Zepar/Furfur point out that they thought George Jessica would have the duel - but obviously, the one with the body, Sayo, has to make the actual choice. No one else can make that choice for her. God this scene has such a feel.... just the tense feeling leading to the duel, the hints they are dropping such as Sayo's age.... ......

If they both die, both of their loves will be made complete... and it's very sad to think of how Sayo must have felt to reach that answer....

Gaap, Ronnove, and Ronove reconstruct the locked room, and Gaap says "It doesn't matter who's here. We need to find out how to escape" which is.... exactly wrong. We get the red truth confirming that Kanon's room window was in fact intact. They use bureaucracy to dodge Gaap's questioning about Shannon's room window seals, which the answer won't, technically, use.

Featherine blurts out the answer after saying she doesn't have it, ahaha. Featherine points out this solution will reveal the heart to Beatrice's heart and may never be used again.

Bern bets on the fact Erika will win because Battler wouldn't use a trick that reveals so much of Beato's heart and Lambda calls her naive and affirms that Battler will lay her to rest. The fact Battler is being sold off as property and literally being forced to serve Erika until the end of time with the ring exchange is very interesting to me. Zepar and Furfur giving talks about how incredible love is is very ironic here, In other words, Sayo needs to let go of their personas and become one, full person in order to be loved and to love.... the wording of sub-human still makes me sad even if I know what is meant though.

Furfur and Zepar really are hammering the answers though.... The fact Kanon loses of course represents that Sayo had already chosen George over Jessica.... and that Battler fucked things upby coming back. Jessica's cries are so sad.... Chick-Beato was so close to disappearing.... so close to being able to move on.... and yet....Reading Sayo's monologue on why she created Beatrice is so sad "You are to love him in my place, and if fate allows it, be loved by him."

[mistypurplespark]

Chapter 51: Goal

Chapter 51.1: Goal

“Aye, why do you two never change, always arguing.”

Translator(s): Ice

Editor(s): juurensha

“Why did you resign from being the Great Chanyu?” Chen Xing asked.

“I didn’t want to be it anymore.” Xiang Shu coldly replied, “What? I can’t even make the decision for myself?” He asked as he knelt in front of the table and glanced at the tea bowl. Chen Xing had already drunk from it, but he didn’t mind. He picked it up and drank from it.

Feng Qianjun smiled as he said, “Congratulations Brother Xiang.” “Congratulations to you too.” Xiang Shu indifferently replied.

Chen Xing didn’t understand what Feng Qianjun was congratulating Xiang Shu about, and he had an even harder time understanding the reason behind Xiang Shu’s “congratulations”. Only Xiang Shu and Feng Qianjun knew what the other meant. Feng Qianjun was congratulating Xiang Shu for relieving his own burden and finally being able to do his own thing. Xiang Shu was “congratulating” Feng Qianjun on finally getting married, so that he could stop looking for Chen Xing and acting ambiguously with him all the time.

“Did you find anything from your investigation?” Xiang Shu taking the rare initiative to ask.

Just as Feng Qianjun was about to report, Chen Xing asked, “What will we do if Shi Mokun agrees to give the Golden Conferment of Purple Scroll?”

Feng Qianjun answered, “I don’t think he will for the time being.”

Xiang Shu said, “I can’t manage what he does; he is the new Great Chanyu,

not my servant.”

Chen Xing murmured, “Fu Jian is going to mobilize troops to attack the Yangtze River.”

Xiang Shu impatiently replied, “How is this any of your business?” Chen Xing frowned, “How... is this not my business”

Xiang Shu shouted, “It’s you who was being incessantly long-winded! You want me to go back to being The Great Chanyu? Now that I’ve resigned, you’re still not satisfied?!”

Feng Qianjun spoke, “Aye, why do you two never change, always arguing.”

Deep inside, Chen Xing actually wanted Xiang Shu to resign from being The Great Chanyu, but later on, when Fu Jian could go unchecked in the North, the situation would only become more and more dangerous.

In order for Xiang Shu to head south with Chen Xing, he resigned from being The Great Chanyu without hesitation. Xiang Shu had originally thought that Chen Xing would be touched, but who knew that Chen Xing’s reaction would be completely outside his expectations. He couldn’t help the anger brewing in his heart. He sarcastically said, “Oh I forgot, if Guwang resigns, your clansmen would be bullied by the Hus again. Now that wouldn’t be good right? This really is too annoying.”

Chen Xing heard the sarcasm in Xiang Shu’s words, yet didn’t argue with him. He only said, “When a Hu dies, does it not count as another life lost? If they really were to fight, who knows how many people will die. This resentment...”

Xiang Shu finally couldn’t bear it anymore and shouted, “Then I’ll just head to Chang An right now and kill Fu Jian, fine?!”

When Xiang Shu blew up, both Chen Xing and Feng Qianjun were given a scare. Chen Xing could only shut his mouth and stop talking.

“Tell me,” Xiang Shu asked Feng Qianjun, “my current identity is that of the Exorcism Department’s Protector Martial God, so what are the results of the investigation?”

Feng Qianjun suddenly laughed. It didn’t sound too bad; if he considered himself an exorcist, then Xiang Shu and Chen Xing were theoretically his superiors.

“The situation doesn’t look too good,” Feng Qianjun thought for a moment and signalled Chen Xing to sit down and stop fighting. Chen Xing sat down with a complicated mood and listened to Feng Qianjun’s remarks. Just as he started listening, he felt that something wasn’t right. Did you have a change of heart? I’m the one in charge of the Exorcism Department, but you actually started giving out orders?!

Whatever, I’ll bear with it... I’ll settle accounts with you after Feng Qianjun leaves.

“After saying goodbye to the two of you, I headed east, leaving Hangu Pass, and bumped into Murong Chong who was on the way to Luoyang.” Feng Qianjun said.

That night, Feng Qianjun had quietly left. He originally wanted to return to Jiangnan but had bumped into Murong Chong along the way. Fu Jian had sent out a decree notifying all the people under the heavens, making the Feng family become the scapegoat of this perplexing case.

Actually,  Murong  Chong  was  already  long  aware  of  who  the  real perpetrator was, and it was impossible for him not to know of his sister’s attempt at vengeance. After the funeral, Fu Jian, in an attempt to show him some compassion, transferred him from Pingyang east to Luoyang. He was preparing to bestow him a new fief after a period of time, maybe even crown him as Henan Wang. It was just that because of the turmoil in court, he had to temporarily relinquish the idea.

Murong Chong led the march, and Feng Qianjun followed behind them the entire way, hearing no little amount of news. He learnt ahead of time that the body of Princess Qinghe was stolen overnight.

Chen Xing, “......”

Xiang Shu’s expression suddenly became quite complicated. Feng Qianjun nodded, saying, “Maybe it was taken to be transformed into... that thing.”

Princess Qinghe was always on Feng Qianjun’s mind when she was alive; it was love at first sight. But now, after experiencing so many things, his only wish was for her to be at peace after death.

Thus, after Feng Qianjun arrived in Luoyang, he went and found the tomb of the Nan Wang Sima Liang in the outskirts of Luoyang. Just as expected, Sima Liang had already been taken out; there was nothing in the coffin. This was consistent with the news that Cheng Xing had received from Sima Wei. Out of the eight kings, six had already been resurrected. As for the remaining two kings, nobody knew who they were.

Runan Wang Sima Liang, Chu Wang Sima Wei, Zhao Wang Sima Lun, Qi Wang Sima Xi, Changsha Wang Sima Yao, Chengdu Wang Sima Ying, Hejian Wang Sima Yong, and Donghai Wang Sima Yue.

Xiang Shu felt dizzy upon hearing all of this; he couldn’t differentiate who was who in this giant Sima family. Of course, it was no problem for Chen Xing. After all, these were all Han names- compared to the eight kings of the Sima family, Chi Le Chuan’s Shi Mokun, Barkol, Che Luofeng, and Carosha were the ones who gave him a headache.

“Zhao Wang Sima Lun was overtaken by you guys in Chang An.” Feng Qianjun said, “Donghai Wang Sima Yue was chopped into a patty by a little brother who I haven’t met yet."

“He was chopped into meat paste.” Chen Xing replied seriously.

“Sima Wei is currently thinking of a way to break free of Shi Hai’s control.” Feng Qianjun said thoughtfully, “We’ll definitely meet sometime. We can say for sure that out of the six revived kings, three have already been taken out, and the three left are still lurking in the dark.”

“En.” Chen Xing frowned, “So that’s to say Shi Hai’s Drought Fiends Kings’ Defense Array is already scattered. Whether or not we can use the Ten Thousand Spirits Array or something else to resurrect Chiyou is hard to say.”

Xiang Shu’s anger had also died down now. He frowned, “The other two kings must be found as soon as possible and taken care of in advance. However, we don’t know where they are buried.”

“Hehe,” Feng Qianjun smiled, revealing his neat and white teeth, and said proudly, “This is precisely Yu Xiong’s area of expertise.”

Chen Xing asked in shock, “They have already been found?”

Feng Qianjun answered, “Have you guys ever thought of why Shi Hai was missing just these two kings to revive? The reason is incredibly simple; because for him, these two folks might be a little too far from him.”

“Wait...” Chen Xing vaguely understood what Feng Qianjun was implying. He always felt that Shi Hai’s identity was shrouded in fog. If a corner of it was revealed, then it would be a major clue.

“It’s in the South.” Xiang Shu immediately understood.

Feng Qianjun meaningfully nodded as he said, "It is buried north of Zhongshan in the Emperor's Mausoleum."

Translator's Comment:

Ice:This chapter is basically a long train of deduction so I couldn’t make up my mind on where to make the cut for the longest time. Sorry that this update is a bit on the shorter side…

Chapter 51.2: Goal

Translator(s): Elestrea

Editor(s): juurensha, namio

In the past, the War of the Eight Princes had brought calamity to the Great Jin Dynasty. Each and every single one of the eight princes of the Sima household had been an expert in military arts and a professional at leading an army. Nevertheless, under the crafty empress Jia Nanfeng's provocation and own interest, they launched a crazy, bloody war against their own brothers in order to fight for the title of "Emperor." For 10 or so years, it was constantly "you killed me, and I also killed him." Jin's millions of troops collapsed completely because of this internal friction, leading to empty northern garrisons, which was used by a Xiongnu, Liu Yan, to command an army to traverse the pass. The final winner, Sima Yue, led the Chang'an court as well as the majority of army and civilians to flee in a panic, but they were intercepted by Liu Yan; they were annihilated. The Jins had been doing large-scale southward migration, and the event was named "the Disaster of Yongjia."

The Disaster of Yongjia had also marked the beginning of all kinds of Hu uprisings that lasted for nearly a hundred years. Still, when the northern tribes were fighting over Guanzhong, Luoyang, and other places, the Sima's family heir, who had reorganized flags and drums on Jiankang, wasn't idle. During the wartime, he displayed his formidable skill of using the "vertical and horizontal alliance" strategy, which made him not only succeed in inciting disharmony among the tribes, making them fight against one another, but also made him succeed in retrieving the country's imperial jade seal, as well as Prince Hejian and Prince Qi's coffins, burying them on the imperial mausoleum of Zhongshan.

"That's great," said Chen Xing. "That's really great! Wait, wait… en, according to what we've seen back on Longzhong Mountain, the revival of an ancient corpse and its transformation to become the Drought Fiend King takes about seven times seven, forty-nine days; this process must be very

complicated. In fact, there's no need to worry about destroying it. En… I think…"

"Clever!" Feng Qianjun said with a smile. "I've already dispatched some spies to keep an eye on the imperial mausoleum all day long. In case there's an anomaly, we'll be notified right away. At first, I was still hesitant. If Shi Hai wants to revive these two princes, he will undoubtedly send his men or even come in person. Isn't it more straightforward if we destroy the princes' corpses in advance? But, hearing Sima Wei's words that you’ve just repeated, maybe we can still guard the trunk to wait for rabbits…"

Chen Xing made a "hm" sound and came up with a daring idea. When that strange masked man resurrected Sima Wei in Longzhong Mountain, it seemed that because the Heart Lamp had been nearby, it brought about some change. In that case, can we use this variable instead? Make the remaining two princes rebel and take Shi Hai by surprise?

"I see that at least, up until now," Feng Qianjun said, "Shi Hai still has yet to arrive in Zhongshan to hastily resurrect the two princes. This, certainly, has a profound meaning."

Xiang Shu also made an "en" sound. Chen Xing felt a little baffled and asked, "What profound meaning?"

Xiang Shu folded his arms and pondered in silence. After half a day, he became slightly impatient and said, "I had just praised you for being clever, how come you became stupid again? The reason why Shi Hai leaves the two princes alone, isn't it obvious?"

Feng Qianjun just smiled. Xiang Shu looked at Chen Xing who was still thinking and simply explained, "Because south of the Yangtze River isn’t Shi Hai's domain!"

That brief sentence awakened the person inside the dream in an instant

—— the cause and effects all become connected in a split second. Longzhong Mountain was no doubt near Xiangyang, and so, the mysterious masked man invaded Longzhong Mountain when the Qin army was besieging the city. That is to say, Shi Hai's activity scope, up until that point, had always been limited to the northern part of the Yangtze River.

He can't get through?! What does "can't get through" imply? Shi Hai is a person from Fu Jian's side! Thinking back about the drought fiend chaos in Chang'an, the Yin and Yang Mirror that had returned to Feng Qianyi's hand midway through due to some unexpected turn of events… The answer gradually became clearer.

"Shi Hai is currently hiding by Fu Jian's side," Chen Xing said. "Who could it be?!"

This was also the truth that Feng Qianjun had wanted to find out no matter what up until now: Shi Hai's identity. Namely, the person who had lured his elder brother in and turned him into a devil —— this was his most important target for revenge.

Chen Xing couldn't help but sigh: Sure enough, a person still needs other people's help. Looking at this conspiracy, he couldn't make heads or tails of it, but unexpectedly, with the deduction of three people, it slowly surfaced and became clear!

"Other than Fu Jian, who else entered the palace that night?" Feng Qianjun said. "The Murongs? Tuoba Yan?"

"It's not Tuoba Yan," Xiang Shu denied and said, "Although I don't like him, it can't be him. It was a dark night, and nothing could be seen clearly. I only caught the sight of Fu Jian and several personal bodyguards. There’s always the possibility that it's Fu Jian himself."

Feng Qianjun said, "That possibility shouldn't be ruled out."

Chen Xing thought for a moment and said, "Let's not talk about whether Fu Jian has the motive or not. Do you think an emperor has the time to run west and east just to perform this big play?"

"Oh, that's true," Feng Qianjun expressed his approval.

"Wang Ziye?" Xiang Shu came up with another candidate. "Fu Jian always finds him to discuss everything."

"You saw him?" Feng Qianjun asked.

Xiang Shu recalled that night, but he couldn't remember whether Wang Ziye was behind Fu Jian then. The three people discussed it over and over, and in the end, Xiang Shu said, "So, based on what happens after this, we may be able to clearly determine who that person is."

Chen Xing's train of thought was already slightly behind Xiang Shu's, so he had to humbly ask, "Why? Can you explain it more clearly? Protector, I find you very clever ah."

Xiang Shu: "I dare not. Compared to the Exorcist who talked in circles during light intellectual conversation and fought with his words with a group of scholars, this Protector is only a little bit clever. How could I enter other people's eyes?"

Chen Xing had already developed an admiration towards Xiang Shu. He also really hadn’t understood what had just been said. Unexpectedly, Xiang Shu stabbed him again, and so, he replied in a polite manner, "A wise person reflecting a thousand times will make a loss; an idiot reflecting a thousand times will make a gain. One shouldn't be ashamed to ask questions once in a while ma."

Xiang Shu: "......"

Feng Qianjun saw that the two had begun to disagree and feared that it would turn into a quarrel again. He hurriedly said, "Asking Brother Xiang for advice."

"To resurrect the remaining two princes," Xiang Shu thus said, "one requires a large amount of resentment released by the dead, precisely like the war in Xiangyang. To have dead people, there must be a big war. In case Fu Jian goes south in the near future to attack Jiangkang, it proves that there's someone by his side that is inciting one. Shi Hai's identity must be a high-ranking advisor."

"Ah," Feng Qianjun actually hadn't thought about this, so he just nodded.

Chen Xing thought that Xiang Shu was indeed really clever. Today, they were reunited with Feng Qianjun, but the happiest thing was not the sudden

meeting with an old friend, but rather the change from their passive behavior into the opposite. Shi Hai's hiding place, once confirmed, would make them have a clear goal. It'd be easier to formulate a plan with that.

The scariest thing was to not know the enemy's location and even more, to not know what the enemy was. They had come a long way and had to pay so much for it, but their hardships had finally paid off. This allowed Chen Xing, for the time being, to breathe a sigh of relief.

Feng Qianjun still frowned. When Chen Xing was about to ask for more information, Feng Qianjun said, "Sometimes, it's not necessary to start a war if you want dead people. Jiangnan may look peaceful, but in fact, there is a vicious current surging underneath. You two have returned to Jiangnan now. We can say that the Will of Heaven works in a mysterious way."

Xiang Shu's complexion suddenly changed. Chen Xing, who was about to get up to move, heard what he had said and replied, "What? What's the matter?"

Feng Qianjun hesitated for a moment before he simply said, "I also don't know whether this is really as I've speculated… but since we're all involved anyway, might as well say it now. Still remember a soldier's body we found in Longzhong Mountain a year ago?"

Chen Xing: "!!!"

Chen Xing immediately remembered the time he, Xiang Shu, and Feng Qianjun had gotten to know each other. Xiang Shu had kicked a corpse off the cliff to warn them not to advance anymore. Yet, that night, Chen Xing and Feng Qianjun tied the corpse on the horseback, making the horse carry it back to Maicheng.

"The corpse transformed?" Xiang Shu's voice turned serious.

Feng Qianjun slowly nodded and said, "Fortunately, the situation isn't that bad."

That dead soldier's corpse, in less than 24 hours after it had been delivered to Maicheng, turned into a living corpse. The knowledgeable Maicheng

City's magistrate associated it with the folklore about the jiangshis' rebellion from the ancient book, and at once, locked the corpse up in a big cage. However, the coroner who had been inspecting the corpse, along with several soldiers, were scratched and got injured on the spot.

The living corpse was thus locked and sent to Jiankang. It was secretly presented to the Jin Emperor, Sima Yao, as to not alarm the masses. But very quickly, in less than ten days after the coroner had returned home, he became infected, fell ill, and bit his wife and child. Following that, many people were turned into living corpses.

Chen Xing: "…………"

Feng Qianjun said, "At that time, we still didn't know that the drought fiend army was that formidable. We shouldn't blame ourselves."

Xiang Shu turned pale and said, "What happened next?"

Feng  Qianjun  said,  "Many  people  in  Maicheng  got  corpse  venom. Fortunately, later on… eer, it's not really glorious, but it has been resolved."

It was such an understatement that contained so much information. Chen Xing sighed, and Xiang Shu said, "It really has been resolved?"

"On the surface," Feng Qianjun said. "Last year, in the late autumn, that is, when you were in Chi Le Chuan, a small-scale plague broke out several times in Jiankang, Moling, Kuaiji, Wujun, and some other places. They're still spreading to this day."

Chen Xing frowned and said nothing. Feng Qianjun described the state of the plague: this disease's origin was inexplicable, and it came without warning. Some said it was brought back by the Jin Army who had been sent on a mission to Maicheng, while others thought it was an ordinary plague. Only, the strange thing was, this epidemic didn't kill anyone, and the majority of the infected preserved their lives, but, it was followed by signs of prolonged sleepiness.

"Is there a cure?" Chen Xing said.

At that time, Feng Qianjun was still investigating the imperial mausoleums in Luoyang, Pintang, Youzhou, and didn't actually see it with his own eyes. He replied, "I heard some have completely recovered. It's said that people can slowly get better by basking in the sun."

Xiang Shu thought for a moment and said, "It's probably okay if they can get better then."

Feng Qianjun had also specifically paid a visit to those who had completely recovered. He discovered that their actions were still the same as before, and there was also zero indication of them turning into a living corpse, so he decided to just wait and see for the time being. However, as the time went by, this plague was akin to consumption; they wouldn't get better, but they wouldn't drop dead either. Moreover, it was still slowly spreading to many cities south of the Yangtze River.

Chen Xing said, "Then, it's not alright after all. We need to take a look at the patients as soon as possible." Even though he said this, he didn't know what to do after that.

Feng Qianjun said, "This leads to another problem."

"There's still more?!" Chen Xing grudgingly said. "Can't you just say everything at once?!"

Feng Qianjun rushed to give a hint. "This matter has nothing to do with Shi Hai, Chiyou, or exorcists. It's Xie-daren, Xie Anshi's…"

At this point, the housekeeper next door suddenly shouted, "My Lord! My Lord! Someone help!"

This very much alarmed them. The three of them were just talking about the plague, and now, they heard a sound of someone falling down next door. Xiang Shu got up and rushed out like a gust of wind. Chen Xing activated the Heart Lamp and followed suit.

Only to see a hobbling Xie An who propped himself on the couch and said, "It's okay, I just meditated for too long and got leg cramps."

Everyone: "......"

"Xie-daren,"  Feng  Qianjun  bowed  with  hands  clasped  according  to formality then said, "it should be the time for you to pay back the money ba?"

"What you guys were talking about," Xie An pulled his lapel, looked left and right down the couch to look for his shoes, then said, "I roughly heard most of them. This money affair ne, may I ask Young Master Feng to extend the deadline for a few more days? You see, I'm already this old, I can't stand the shock…"

Chen Xing was confused. He looked at Feng Qianjun before looking back at Xie An and said, "What? Not the other way around ba? Shixiong, you owe Feng-dage money? How much?"

"He's your shixiong?" Feng Qianjun was at a loss, "Isn't your shixiong Wang Meng? Why did it change to Xie An?"

Xie An explained, "It's like this…" He first told the housekeeper to leave, then said to Feng Qianjun, "Since you and my shidi are familiar with each other, everyone is on the same side. This money of mine, how about we leave it first?"

"‘Same side' my ass!" Feng Qianjun said, "You made it all sound great before. 70,000 silver taels on your behalf to support the Beifu Army. The legal document was issued; all debts will be paid off at the beginning of this spring. I don't need the 10,000 tael interest, but Xie-daren, please pity our pathetic Xifeng Bank. Our Chang'an property has been wiped out, and also, there are still many places in Jiankang to make money ne. What did you expect me to do?"

"Calm down, calm down," Chen Xing persuaded. "Everyone, look at me. No need to quarrel, there will always be money."

"That's right," Xiang Shu nodded in approval. "Chen Xing will stand on the road outside later; the money will come on its own."

Translator's Comment:

Ehem, WE’RE BACK! And we’re all fine, thank you for those who ask on Twitter I guess at this point we all can agree that Chen Xing and Xiang Shu will try to quarrel, anytime, anywhere… SOMEONE MADE A MEME ABOUT THIS BUT I CANT FIND IT

Anyway, we’re giving a mass release today, up till the end of Chapter 55, for a total of 9 chapters to make up for the last month. Enjoy~

Message from Ice:

Hello, sorry for going MIA for such a long time. Originally, I had just planned to take a one-week break for my midterms, but because of various reasons, I ended up losing contact with the rest of the Dinghai team for another three weeks. Once I regained contact with them, I wanted to quickly finish the parts I was responsible for and give a mass update to everyone, but a soon expiring visa and a round of school projects caused another week-long delay.

I want to apologize for the long wait and thank Elestrea and Zryuu for filling in the next three parts while I was gone… I owe them one (literally) and will make it up to them both. (つ⊂)

[bathroomcorpse]

margot: 👄 😱 auggie: 🔮😭 elias: 🎨 🤲

reblogged that last night and then completely forgot abt it WHOOPS anyway thank uuuuu. this got SO long so it's going under a cut

👄: How do they talk? What's their vocabulary like? What does their voice sound like? Any accent, verbal tics, etc?

like a lot of things about margot, there are a few answers to this question. she has a paris hilton vibe in that she puts on a voice in a higher register a lot, especially as a kid, mostly to appease her mother and to use in pageants. it's probably not dissimilar to a young britney spears. she has a bit of a southern us accent that i think she plays up especially when she's at competitions not in the south to give a sort of ditzy but innocent southern princess vibe that is VERY antithetical to her actual self. her real voice is a bit deeper and raspier (she and auggie both started smoking before they were even teenagers so there's a bit of that in there too). she comes from a wealthy family so she's well educated and heavily encouraged to speak eloquently but not TOO eloquently (don't want to make your future husband feel stupid) but i think she's got a very good vocabulary that she likes to flex. or she goes in the opposite direction and swears like a sailor. or both. whatever she thinks will annoy people the most in the moment.

😱: Do they have any irrational fears/phobias? How do they cope with them?

margot's only fear is being separated from her twin. when this does start to happen she copes with it Badly. specifics of margot's pre-college summer are still being worked out but it's not any Better than auggie's pre-college summer. and we all know how That's going.

🔮: If they were to feature in the art of a tarot card, which one would it be and why?

ooooooh. i pulled out my personal tarot book to consult on this one so if my interpretations are off its because i'm using a Specific deck lol. i'm going with the seven of cups because at least in my deck it references coming to a point where you all of a sudden realize you've built a house of cards and a world around yourself or a self based on lies and deception and falsehoods and tbh this could also be elias but he's a little more Concious of what he's doing than auggie is. where auggie is kind of just going through life doing whatever makes the most sense for him and it's kind of always a terrible decision. could also see him as part of the devil card but not as the corrupting force but the one being corrupted.

😭: How easily do they cry? Do they ever cry in front of other people? When was the last time they cried?

auggie used to cry WAY more. he cried a fuck ton as a child. he grew out of it, though. after years of his parents ignoring him, his mother becoming hostile when he showed weakness, edmund torturing him, etc etc etc, he kind of just stopped caring enough about himself to cry? if that makes sense? i think he's probably had tears come out of his eyes but the Act of crying has not happened in years probably.

🎨: What is their color scheme? Or at least colors you associate them with?

office beige, grey, white, but then also blood red and the dark brown of wet dirt.

🤲: Do they have any deep desires that they don't talk about and/or don't even realize they have? Do these desires conflict with their main goal at all?

elias' main goal is power and control. he's able to fold most of his weird sidequests into that main goal but things do get complicated when he brings auggie back into his life as older adults. the fact that elias is the one who chooses to rekindle their relationship indicates a desire around auggie that is deeper than his desires for power and control which at that point he has! it's not "love" in any traditional sense but auggie remains compelling to him i think because of their similarities in a lot of ways. i also think he likes a challenge and once he's beaten the main quests, so to speak (success in career, having a family, owning a nice home, blah blah blah) he finds himself unchallenged. i think he thinks he wants to win but really what he wants to do is play.

[rwprincess]

Can i request a Fred benson x reader where theu are both pining idiots for eachother and one day reader accidently fall asleep on his shoulder and the poor guy panics but eventually they end up cuddling ? i hope that makes sense 😭 ♡

I never forgot you, anon! I know it has been a long time but I wanted to craft something I felt was worthy.

“I burn, I pine, I perish”

-Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew

Those little brushes to the forearm, those small smiles, those hints of something left unsaid behind your eyes. Fred cherished each and every one of these instances. Fleeting moments that gave him hope that you could see him in the way that he saw you: ethereal, breathtaking, and as so much more than a friend. But he had difficulty believing he'd ever be that lucky. He had hope, sure, but he wasn't betting on it. 

Conversely, Fred made you nervous. While you felt the crushing weight of desire to be more than friends with him, you couldn't actually fathom it. Any time you seriously thought about the implications of realizing your romantic feelings towards Fred, your heart hammered in your chest in a way that was likely not healthy. But keeping his company was an addiction you couldn't deny, so you sought to spend time with him any way you could, even assigning the most banal (or even hated) tasks to be spent with him. At least it gave you some glimmer of joy. 

Fred, of course, felt at ease when you asked him to help you cram for your math test. "C'mon Freddie, I'll fail without you!" you whined. 

Internally, he was shoving down a smirk at the thought that you needed him, that you were begging for his help, his time, his attention. Outwardly, however, he rolled his eyes, "What are you, five? You don't have to whine. And I'm sure you can do it without me." 

You shook your head vigorously in response. "You and I both know I don't know what the hell is going on in that class. And I need someone to quiz me and make sure my answers are right. I can't trust my own answers."

"I'll think about it," he replied, even though he knew he'd say yes. He was just stringing it out to tease you. 

"I'll feed you!" You burst out and he started laughing, "C'mon. My house, free snacks. Plus, my company." You grinned deviously, joking that that was your selling point. However, for Fred, it was all that actually mattered and he was sold long ago, before you'd really even asked him.

"Okay, okay, fine. You've convinced me." He pretended to let you win, as if he wasn't already wrapped around your finger. 

Studying together. That's something that normal friends do, right? Even if it was at night…all alone in your house together. Right?

The nerves were getting to you despite this fact. Fred had been to your house plenty of times and while you outward tried to 'play it cool,' you actually spent hours planning, cleaning, and preparing any time he came over. Everything was just-so but also perfectly curated to look nonchalant. You tried your best not to let him know that your palms were sweaty or your heart was racing any time you thought of him. 

You welcomed him into your home, snacks already set, and thanked him profusely for his time (you tried to hide your feelings, but you weren't really any good at it). "You really don't have to keep thanking me," he mused, "I'm already here. Not going anywhere." 

"Right, yeah," you felt an embarrassed blush hit your cheeks but shoved it down as quickly as possible. 

He put you at ease by focusing on the task at hand and forcing you to study, mercifully he didn't bring up your heightened state. Eventually, you fell into a rhythm and talked both about the math at hand, but also about the broader aspects of life. Soon, you were more focused on that part of it and became distracted from the math goals you had laid out. Joking with Fred and relaxing more, pushing him playfully and enjoying his smiling response. It became late rather quickly and you noticed your eyes tiring to the point that you had to put forth effort to keep them open. Fred finally steering you back to boring studies didn't help, either. 

"Hey!" He snapped his fingers in front of your face, welcoming you back to a drowsy haze. "You can't fall asleep! We're only like, halfway through this chapter!"

"I am not falling asleep… I'm just resting my eyes," you said and he gave you a deadpan stare at your cliched excuse. "No, really! They're burning from reading so much."

"Uh-huh," he replied in a tone that indicated disbelief, "I can't believe you're quitting on me already."

"I'm not. Jeez!" You stood up and stretched, then plopped back down next to him. "There. All jazzed up now. Continue," you prompted, tapping the book in front of him. 

Your magic wake up 'cure' lasted all of three minutes. You could feel your thoughts becoming disjointed and you were missing words from Fred's sentences as he spoke. Your responses started to become muted "uh-huh"s and agreeing, grumbling moans. Before long, you'd completely nodded off, head drooping down onto Fred's shoulder. 

Luckily for Fred, you were totally zonked, because he sat up rigidly, panicking at your closeness. "Y/N?" He asked in a normal tone, before changing to a hissing whisper to repeat it. When you didn't stir, his thoughts immediately reeled; what was he to do? Part of him wanted to nudge you awake. Surely this was a mistake on your part and you'd loathe him when you woke, wondering why he didn't rouse you sooner. You'd probably both be embarrassed and then you'd have to take a huge step back in your relationship and everything would be awkward. And you wanted to pass this test, and he had vowed to help you. He couldn't just let you sleep through it, right? 

However, the stronger part of him that won out screamed at him to let this last as long as possible. You'd never been this close before, and he didn't mind being your pillow when you looked so …sweet. You looked peacefully innocent, lips slightly parted to let your gentle breath through, warming the soft wool fabric of his sweater vest. He had resolved to let you sleep, (he justified it by saying that you must need the rest, or at least a break, if you were falling asleep on him!) but he didn't really know what to do with himself. He was afraid to keep skimming the book and jostling you awake. So, for a few moments, he just sat under the weight of your head and sweated bullets from his nerves. But watching the steady rise and fall of your chest while inhaling your scent, the languidness was contagious and he felt his eyelids getting heavier. Soon, his head started to carry the weight instead and he unconsciously laid against the top of your head, giving in to the comfort of sleep.

[x-lipstickstain-x]

Own Goal -LN (Part One)

Lando Norris/Original Character

Summary: After some encouragement from his best mate, Lando finally makes a move on the girl he has been crushing on. Though when he thinks about the situation a second too long, he scores an own goal.

Word count: 7.6k

It started when Max and Lando were streaming on Twitch. It was a simple watch along to one of the Euro 2020 football matches, when a fan asked if they would be going to see any of the England games. The initial answer was ‘no’, they hadn’t planned to go to any games, but it did spark an idea.

So after it was clear that England would be playing in the final, their decision was made without any doubts. The next day, Max told Lando about how he managed to get three tickets and Lando was pleased, not questioning who would be joining them; they had a few friends who would be willing to go for sure. Though he wasn’t aware that Max already had different suggestions, he just had to find the right moment to ask him about it. 

Few days later Max sat on a bar stool in Lando's kitchen, which was temporarily also his kitchen. He tapped away on the laptop, searching through Netflix to find a movie to enjoy tonight, while Lando softly hummed along to the beat of the music, the dinner leftovers reheating in the oven. 

“Have you asked anyone if they’re coming on Sunday yet?” Max raised his eyebrows at the question, a puzzled look on his face before it clicked what’s happening this Sunday. How had he managed to forget? “You’re kidding?” Lando laughed, noticing the guilty look on Max’s face. 

Max winced. “Well I was actually going to ask you first to make sure you weren’t going to throw a hissy fit and then I forgot.” 

“Why would I?” Lando shrugged. “ I don’t care who comes.” 

A half smirk tugged at Max’s lips. “So you don’t care if we take Josie?” Max now fully smirked, seeing the glint in Lando's eyes just at the sound of their mutual friend's name. He also couldn’t hide that he was a little surprised at the suggestion, sure they were good friends, but it's been a while since they hung out. 

"That freak she calls her boyfriend won't let her." Lando tried to keep his cool, recalling the amount of times the girl's boyfriend approached him, making it clear he was not to go anywhere near her. It wasn't even like there was something between them, they were just good friends, though perhaps her boyfriend potentially saw right through Lando and his not so subtle glances.

"They're not together anymore, did you not know?" 

"Well no, we haven't really talked much recently." Lando grimaced, knowing how much her toxic ex-boyfriend harmed their friendship with his jealousy, he did notice the lack of posts of them together, but he felt a bit weird asking about it. Now he was surely happy for her to be out of that relationship.

"Well we talked and she wants to hang out with us whenever you're free." Max's smug expression remained. "She said she wanted to message you but she knows how busy you are so she didn't want to bother you." 

Lando puffed out some air, a smile lighting up his face. "She could bother me all she wants." Max laughed, shaking his head at his best friend who was already zoning out. 

"Are you ever gonna stop pining over her?”

The smile on Lando’s face turned sheepish, he decided to ignore Max’s question, though still lost in thought resulting in him reaching to take out the glass dish from inside the oven. Thankfully Max was alert enough to yell at him, preventing the potential disaster. 

“You muppet!” Max looked highly unimpressed, shaking his head and nudging the McLaren driver out the way to take over the food prep. 

When the boys sat down to eat, Max sent their friend a message asking if she was able to give them a call, but they hadn’t expected the phone to ring within just a few minutes. Max answered, greeting Josie and asking her how she was while Lando sat there with a smile, listening to the conversation as he waited for a good time to make her aware of his presence. 

The moment came when Max mentioned that they were wondering what she was doing on Sunday night. The girl paused for a second, “Wait, who’s we?” she questioned. 

“Josephineeeee!” Lando beamed before he could think of anything normal to say. Max laughed at the happy noises which came out as a squeal from the other side of the call, Josie always scolded them for calling her Josephine as it wasn’t her name, but in this case she clearly did not mind. 

Lando had easily slipped into his playful self, throwing a joke here and there, not worrying about how he completely took over the conversation from Max. It turned out that Josie was free and more than happy to join them, it didn’t surprise them how eager she was since she probably knew more about football than both of them combined. 

“Well, that was easy." Max put his phone down after the call ended and continued eating. "You owe me, you'll finally be able to make a move." He poked his fork at Lando. 

A frown made its way onto Lando's face at the words. "Who said I'm gonna make a move?"

Max shot him a confused glare from across the table, his hands facing up on the counter. "What do you mean? We go to the match all dressed up, you'll make her go crazy. Easy." He presented his plan as if it was just that simple, though he could see how unconvinced Lando was. "What?"

It seemed like Lando’s happiness from the call had slightly faded already. "Mate,I don't know. I just don't want to get involved with another girl only for her to ditch when she gets bored or finds-,".

"Don't give me this bullcrap again." Max groaned, dragging his hand down his face, already growing sick of hearing it. "As if she was ever just another girl to you." It was Lando's turn to groan in response because he knew Max was right.

Lando was glad that Max didn't go back on the subject that night, it was enough that his thoughts were fighting in his head. Josie was perfect girlfriend material in his eyes, always caring and the same sense of humour he had, it made him think he never really stood a chance, but god did he want one. Yet, he still couldn't shake the thought that he shouldn’t get involved with anyone, he hated the vulnerable feeling which came along with attachment. 

That night, sleepily Lando typed the name into the search bar on instagram. Every picture of Josie radiated positive vibes and confidence, her smile being contagious as it quickly spread to Lando. He stopped himself from scrolling when he felt the familiar stir in his gut, he'd never admit to having butterflies, but the images from almost 6 months back, of them hanging out brought back the memories along with the feeling. 

When he closed his eyes, her face was still all he could think about, he felt so much dread yet excitement about the day he would see her. With that he fell asleep, hoping he wasn’t going to hate Max for bringing Josie back into his life again. 

Coming back home after the Goodwood festival and getting stuck in traffic didn't really leave much time for the two boys to get ready for the match. Max was thankful Lando's house had more than one bathroom, which he never really used the advantage of unless he had people over, but it meant the two could shower at the same time, saving one of them at least 20 minutes. 

"So what do you reckon the score will be?" Lando asked, carefully ironing out their shirts while Max was halfway through getting dressed. 

"Don’t know mate, but I feel it'll end in penalties."

Lando scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah, I have a good feeling, it'll be over in 90 minutes, like 2:0 for us."

 Lando knew close to nothing about football besides the basics. "Your imagination is running a bit wild there." Max laughed at his best friend, skilfully catching the shirt which was thrown at him before pulling it on. 

"No seriously, wanna bet?" Lando confidently stuck out his hand, Max continued to laugh though he decided to shake on it. "What are we betting on?" 

Max shrugged, neither of them really having ideas, doubting either of them will even remember this later on. "We'll see. Winner decides."

Meanwhile Josie arrived at the door, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while checking her appearance in the reflective window on the door. She rang the doorbell the second time, waiting for one of them to grace her with their attention and open the door.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of Max who was buttoning up his white shirt. They did tell her to dress smartly as they would be doing so, but she didn't expect a suit. 

"Hello gorgeous." He grinned, letting the girl inside. The second he saw her, he knew right away that Lando was about to lose his mind. 

"Oh holy crap, look at you!" She gasped, shamelessly eyeing him up from head to toe upon entering the large hallway. 

"Someone's gonna pull tonight." She winked playfully, greeting him with a hug and a peck on the cheek. 

"If anyone's pulling tonight it’s Borris." Max nodded his head down the hallway, instinctively the girl turned around just in time to see Lando come out of the room, busy trying to fix the collar of his shirt as it was stuck on the black blazer he was wearing.

Josie bit the inside of her cheek, she was a bit speechless, the greeting getting stuck in her throat as she let out a shaky breath. Her usual confident self was absent for a moment, earning a loud laugh from Max beside her, the girl swiftly elbowed him in the ribs. When Josie looked back ahead, her eyes met Lando's. He already managed to get a good look at her figure, the way the dress hugged her curvy hips was going to be the death of him. 

"You boys weren't kidding, you really went all out." She smiled from ear to ear, already heading towards the curly haired boy. 

His grin was bigger and definitely more smug, he got quite a boost of confidence from the way he caught her gaze drifting all over his body. "Hello Josephine, like what you see, huh?" 

Josie rolled her eyes. ."Very much so." She flicked her tongue over her lower lip, Lando clenching his jaw, ensuring he didn't let out a sound which almost came through from the back of his throat. 

In better lighting, Josie noticed how the white button up shirt really complimented his tanned skin, how his hair looked like he just had a recent trim, his ears gently poking out, something she found adorable. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his cheek the same way she had greeted Max. Lando held her gently, the soothing fruity scent of her hair making him smile fondly.

They had a quick catch up as Max went back to finish getting ready, Lando meanwhile still struggling with his collar. 

A chuckle left the blonde's lips. "I've got it." She wandered over to where Lando was standing, putting him out of his misery as she fixed the creased collar, making it fold nicely. Just a gentle brush of her fingers on the back of his neck was enough to send shivers down his spine. She hadn't even been here for ten minutes yet and she already had his head spinning. How the hell was he supposed to survive the night? Little did he know that Josie was planning on getting her hands on him at every little chance she got tonight, craving the feeling of his skin and seeing his reaction to her touch only made the craving stronger.

They made their way to the Wembley stadium once all three were ready to head out. The crowds were slightly terrifying, the London streets flooded with people, some way too rowdy for their own good. They were glad to arrive at their seats without any inconveniences, in particular happy with their location of the sector being a little further away from the rest, allowing them some more privacy. 

Conveniently, Max let Lando and Josie sit besides one another, he pretended not to notice their wandering gazes and how their eyes always met when laughing or cheering throughout the game, he did feel a little as if he was third wheeling, but it was okay because seeing the two so happy simply made up for it. Max could no longer hide his smirk when their hands started exploring more limits as they talked, as they laughed, placing their hands on one another, Lando’s hand lingering on her thigh for a few minutes. 

Unfortunately for them, England lost in penalties, which was a little disappointing yet they were still in good moods after seeing such an important game live. When people started leaving they decided not to get caught up in the floods of crowds and hang back for a while, entertaining themselves by taking pictures with the pitch in the background. Max grinned at his best mate when Josie asked Max to take a picture of her with Lando. 

“You’re next, don’t know what you’re grinning about.” She chuckled at Max, Lando resting his hand on the curve of her waist as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Wow, your blazer is seriously soft.” She pressed herself further into him, Lando glancing down at her, a fond smile spreading across his face. Max of course snapped a picture of them before taking normal pictures of the two, where they actually focus on the camera rather than each other. 

Leaving the stadium turned out to be more difficult than they had anticipated, the English fans clearly not very happy with the result of the game and were causing havoc all around. They had expected people to have mostly cleared out now, but they were wrong. Josie turned back, her eyes desperately searching for Lando, ready to grab hold of his arm at the fear of losing each other or being grabbed by someone, it seemed as Lando had the same idea, his arm snaking securely around her waist and yanking her towards him as people almost went crashing into her. They both reached out for Max, also pulling him to the side as they waited, standing against the wall until one of the security staff noticed them and guided them safely out of another exit. 

Max announced he would be staying at his parents place tonight as he was due to go out for lunch with his family tomorrow, he said his goodbyes, not before reminding Lando how he had predicted the game to finish in penalties, which the other had failed to do, therefore as part of the deal he expects Lando to ‘finally make a move’. It took Lando a good moment to figure out what Max meant by that, but it clicked when he turned back around to look at the girl that’s been occupying his mind. 

They hovered in his driveway after arriving back at his house. "Uh Josie, do you maybe wanna come for a drink?" He asked, his hand rubbing against his forehead, brushing away the curls. 

She chuckled, pointing in the direction of her car sitting on his drive. "Lan I have to drive myself home." 

"Well you could stay the night, I have guest rooms." He shrugged.

"Of course you do." She laughed at his subtle flex of having a huge house.

Lando was almost certain it would take some convincing for the girl to stay over, he was thinking of arguments he could give, though she just looked back at her car before turning to him with a smile. "Okay sure."

She propped herself up onto the kitchen counter, her legs crossing over one another. Josie carefully watched as Lando reached into the cupboard for some wine glasses, he had slipped out of his blazer therefore giving her a perfect view when the white material of his shirt stretched along his back, highlighting all his muscles. 

The blonde spotted his blazer hanging on a stool, she took hold of it before pulling it on, it was a little too big, but she felt good wearing it. It wasn't something Lando expected to see when he turned around, almost dropping the glasses onto the floor. His lips quirked up, the thought of her wearing nothing but his blazer crossed his mind and he quickly had to brush them away else there would be a problem. 

"How do I look?" She chuckled, flicking back some hair. She knew she looked good, simply judging by the intensity of his gaze.

"Almost as good as me." He grinned from ear to ear. 

"I'll take that, you looked unreal." 

Lando placed the glasses on the counter beside her, his hand reaching up to her neck. A few strands of her hair were stuck underneath the blazer, he brushed them out, his fingers lingering which made her slightly lean into the touch. 

"Tired?" He asked, softly brushing his fingers through her hair. 

"A little, but it’s all good." 

Josie watched as Lando carefully attempted to open a bottle of red wine, she offered to do it for him as she already had the image of him spilling the red liquid all over himself and the kitchen, but he was too stubborn and wanted to prove his point that he can do it. He tried to pull the cork out slowly, but with a bit too much force, his hand flew back with grip on the cork, Josie gasped though somehow he managed to keep the bottle still.

They glanced at each other shocked before bursting into laughter. "That was extremely lucky." 

"Told you I could do it." He spoke with fake nonchalance, a side smirk on his face while he poured the wine into the glasses. His gaze drifted to her, adoring the way her head rolled back as she laughed at him being an idiot.

While enjoying the wine, Josie spotted a few things had changed around Lando's house since the last time she had been here, so the McLaren driver was eager to give her a tour, especially when it included showing off the new trophies he won this season. 

When he joined her side she was already admiring the Monaco GP trophy, her fingertips slowly brushing over the edges. "You know I wanted to be there, I awfully missed attending races." Her voice took him out of the trance previously caused by her gentle movements.

"Then why didn't- oh." Lando quickly realised her ex-boyfriend was the reason why she hadn't come along, or more like why she wasn't allowed to see him. A sad smile appeared on the girl's face as she placed the trophy back down on the shelf.

"I regretted it so much, seeing you so happy on the podium and knowing I could have been there." She turned to face him, taking a sip of her wine.

"We missed out on a lot because of him huh?" Lando laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, as much as he wanted it to sound like a joke it was actually true. "I don't get it though Josie." 

His face turned serious, causing her eyebrow to raise. "You're so confident, so smart, you usually don't take shit from people so why did you let him manipulate you so much?" 

Her gaze turned down to the floor, she couldn’t help but feel ashamed, though it was something she had to move past. "I felt like it was my fault… Perhaps that I gave him reasons to be like that." 

Lando whinced, shaking his head, he was ready to knock that idea out of her head like he had before, but she cheerfully turned towards him, her change in emotion slightly causing confusion for Lando. "What about you though? Had anyone?"

"Oh yeah." Lando spoke without thinking. "Many." He took a sip of the wine, that wasn't fully a lie. Meanwhile Josie felt her stomach churn a little, she didn't like it when guys bragged about how many girls they had been with, now she had wished she never asked that question. "No I haven't… well I mean I- it's just complicated." He groaned trying to explain the situation was harder than he thought, after all it wasn't just random flings, he really did try to make meaningful relationships. "Any plans for the summer?" He changed the subject, guiding her through to his gaming room. Josie let out a low chuckle, noticing how the subject was rather uncomfortable for him so she wouldn't pry. 

The two continued their catch up through the evening, unaware of the time until they were leaning against one another's shoulder to rest their head, allowing themselves to close their eyes for a second as the conversation continued. Neither of them being much of a drinker, they abandoned the wine after one glass, as it was only adding to the drowsiness and neither of them wanted to leave off to bed just yet.

When the time came, Lando escorted Josie to the guest room she would be staying the night in. He wrapped his arms around her, his lips brushing her cheek as she wished him to rest well. Lando's gaze lingered on her a little longer than she liked, she hated how it felt so close from something happening, it felt like something should happen, yet neither of them would give in for their own reasons.

Josie smiled to herself after Lando had left to his room, she tried to hold onto the happiness of the content feeling she experienced when around him, rather than thinking of what could have happened or what she would rather be doing with him at this moment.

She absentmindedly slipped out of her dress, her mind still replaying the way his soft hand felt against her neck earlier, meanwhile loving the way she was freed from the fitting, rather tight material. 

The plan wasn't to stay over, sure she could drive home after a small glass of wine which would fit below the limit,  but she wasn't the type to mess with things like this, not to mention she wanted to spend more time with Lando. Though when she stood in her matching underwear, staring at her reflection, she realised she had nothing to sleep in. She could sleep in her underwear and risk an awkward situation during the night if she needed anything, or she could sleep in her dress which seemed a lot worse of an idea due to how uncomfortable it would be. 

It was only a few minutes after Josie and Lando had split off into separate rooms and knowing how Lando often stayed up unable to sleep, she was almost certain he was still awake. She once again propped on his blazer, wrapping herself up so that her body wasn't on display, the material reaching her mid thigh. So with that she wandered over to Lando's bedroom, giving the door a soft knock.

"Yeah?" Lando spoke from inside, Josie taking it as a green light for her to enter the room, what she wasn't quite expecting was her mouth to go dry at the view if Lando's bare chest as his shirt was unbuttoned, his belt half undone, causing the trousers to hand loosely on his hips and the waistband of his boxers to peak out.

Josie's words got caught in her throat when her eyes explored his exposed chest and stomach. She wondered whether she perhaps wasn't supposed to come inside, but the sleepy smirk on his face told her he had nothing against it, meanwhile Lando himself was enjoying the view of her tightly gripping his blazer around herself, he once again had to snap himself out of his fantasies. 

"Miss me already?" He chuckled, somehow his voice seemed lower and more husky than just a few minutes ago, almost sending Josie into an eruption of shivers.

"Uh not really, but I think there are monsters under the bed, mind telling your lil friends to leave me alone?" She laughed as she stepped further into his room. 

Lando shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of her smile, unlike Josie who tried to look anywhere else other than him. The way the light reflected only highlighted his abs and if she looked at him again, she knew her gaze would fall to the v-line which was shamelessly out for display because of how low his boxers and trousers hugged his hips. 

"Nah, they won't leave, I think you'll have to sleep in my bed to keep them away." Josie knew Lando was joking, but it didn’t stop her from thinking of sharing a bed with him, having his arms around her waist, brushing her fingers through his soft curls and their lips tangling.

"Ha ha." She playfully rolled her eyes, hoping she hadn't drifted off into her thoughts for long, but the intense look on Lando's face suggested she had been staring. "Shut up." She instinctively swatted the back of her hand against his stomach, making the boy tense his muscles at the contact he craved so much. 

"No but seriously speaking, I don't have anything to sleep in, could I borrow a t-shirt?"

He tugged on the sleeve of the blazer. "You already took my blazer, now you want a t-shirt too?" He was already heading towards his wardrobe, shortly picking out two McLaren team t-shirts, both with his own name on it. 

She once again rolled her eyes, her smile brightening her face. "Gotta be all about you, huh?" She didn't mind one bit though, picking out the blue t-shirt without hesitation. However when she went to grab it, Lando pulled his arm back. 

"No you can't have that one." He teased, repeating his actions when she, full of confusion, reached for the other t-shirt. She only caught onto his teasing when his eyes crinkled from his devilish smirk.

"You're such an ass. Come on." She huffed, though unable to stop herself from smiling as she fought with his flying arms for the t-shirt. She was no longer holding onto the blazer, meaning the material was secured only on the button. Lando's gaze fell onto where her lacey baby blue bra peaked out and he bit the inside of his cheek. He let her take the t-shirt, worried that if he continued she would get uncomfortable when she noticed, instead letting her go back to hugging the blazer around herself while he turned away to close the wardrobe. 

"Thank you!" The girl grinned, happy she finally managed to get hold of the t-shirt. She said her goodnight and left his bedroom, though not before stealing another glance at Lando who already had his gaze on her.

Josie smiled at her own reflection in the mirror after pulling on Lando's t-shirt, she ran her fingertips over the material. Lando and her were of similar height so the material reached just over her hips, though she really liked the way it fit. After crawling into bed, she couldn't help but wrap her arms around herself, the t-shirt had a clean scent though it still was mixed with his, of course it was. She sighed quietly, after all she was in the bed alone, thinking about Lando being just down the hall, wondering if she's occupying his mind like he is for her. 

She struggled to calm her mind, a wince left her lips as every time her eyes closed, the sight of Lando appeared in his stupid button up shirt half undone. She realised how awfully dry her throat felt and there was no chance she would manage to sleep without cooling herself down. She left the bed and headed out the bedroom to grab a drink from the kitchen.

Suddenly the door on the left of the hallway opened, startling her a little. Josie rightfully remembered it as the bathroom, from which Lando emerged, water dripping from his curls down to his chest as he was too busy drying his hair with a towel to notice her walking in his direction. Her feet were rather uncooperative, unable to move out the way and instead leading her right into him. 

"Oh shit." Lando gasped, only just becoming aware of the girl's presence, also giving himself a fright as he assumed he wouldn't be seeing any more of her until the morning. It seemed as if his plan to keep his wandering thoughts and hands to himself was crumbling through choices of the universe.

She laughed nervously in response, the t-shirt she was wearing being the only thing separating her from his bare chest, she could feel his abs through the thin material, her hands still resting on his shoulders just like one of his hands remained on her waist. "Hello there." 

He tried to hide the way his eyes skirted down, curiously admiring how his t-shirt looked on her. His grip had caused the material to ride up, allowing Lando to steal a glimpse of the baby blue underwear which matched the lacey bra he had spotted before. "One of the best hellos I've had, not gonna lie."

"I could say the same." Her tongue darted over her lips as she shamelessly glanced down at his abs, then his lips and finally his eyes which seemed to have darken, a smirk playing on her lips. 

They both felt the tension, their eyes meeting and neither of them being able to look away anymore. "Oh fuck it." Lando threw the towel back into the bathroom, not caring where it had landed before tugging Josie's body towards his. The girl let out a quiet squeak, unexpecting to feel his hard body collide with her own, almost feeling as if they were one. 

Lando's lips met hers, after the initial kiss Lando stopped, allowing her to make the decision whether she would like it to continue. He expected the kiss to calm the tension between them, but when she responded with just as much eagerness, pulling his lip in between her teeth, it set them both off like a rollercoaster. Both of them forgetting the reasons why they didn't allow this to happen earlier,  as the desire was now simply too powerful.

She moaned into the kiss when his hands found their way down under her thighs, picking her up and prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. Lando carried her into the closest bedroom which happened to be his own, his lips exploring her neck and leaving a mark on her collarbone. 

Sleeping with him wasn't what Josie had planned or perhaps something she even tried to avoid last night, but once it happened it didn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. The way Lando took care of her even when they were both so eager to make love all night, she couldn't see how this could turn bad, so she allowed herself to enjoy the memories and make the most out of the situation.

Surprisingly when the girl woke up she didn't feel guilty or ashamed, she felt content, especially seeing the man sleeping beside her, the marks she left on his body peaking through so beautifully on his skin. Josie wanted nothing more than to pepper his skin with kisses, her stomach erupting with butterflies just at the thought. Though instead she chose to carefully sneak out of bed, making sure not to wake Lando, she slipped on his white button up shirt from the night before over her naked body, doing the buttons roughly so it was only hanging on a few. She made her way into the kitchen, ignoring the slight discomfort on her thighs.

Lando woke up to find the bed empty when he rolled over and a slightly disappointed feeling dawned on him when he realised Josie was no longer beside him. Her fruity scent still lingered within the bed sheets, he swore she even scented his skin. He let out a sleepy smile, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, here where no one could see him, he could allow himself to melt into the thoughts of her. Though the night only proved to him that he would definitely have to address his feelings sooner or later, but for now, despite the disappointment of not being able to see her this morning, Lando felt a little relieved that it bought him more time that he didn't have to deal with the situation and if he played it out well enough, he wouldn't have to deal with it at all. 

The curly haired sat up when he heard noises coming from his kitchen, could it possibly be that Max came back already? He doubted it so he pulled on some sweatpants and went to search for the culprit of the noises. He paused at the entrance into the kitchen, completely dumbfounded as he watched Josie gracefully tiptoe around his kitchen, in the same white button up shirt he wore the previous night.

Josie didn't have a clue Lando was blatantly watching her every move as she finished up making breakfast for the two of them. She was in her own little world, enjoying how comfortable she felt around his space, while Lando's lips curved upwards into a smile because she was still here, she didn't leave at the nearest opportunity. Of course she didn't, this was Josie, she didn't let many people get close to her. 

That's when Lando's breathing became irregular, the realisation that she wanted to get closer. The fact he could easily get used to this, the way he wanted this to be an everyday thing, he wanted to wake up to her smile lighting up his mornings, her moody acts too when she wouldn't want to leave the bed and where things would get heated, he wanted all of it. But that was the problem, cause one day he could wake up and she would be gone and he would be have to wake up alone, eat breakfast in silence while debating what he could have done to stop her from leaving and come back after a long day for comfort only to find the house cold and empty, it was something he couldn't let himself go though again. 

"What are you doing?" The words left his lips before his brain could catch up, although it was very obvious what Josie was doing. 

She flinched at the unexpected presence, but instantly a smile formed on her face when she saw him standing behind the kitchen island. Josie was so caught up in what she was doing she didn't notice the way Lando's eyebrows were furrowed, almost as if he was offended.

"Come sit, breakfast is almost ready." She beamed, making Lando hate how his heart fluttered. 

"You didn't have to…" He gulped down a few more words, not trusting his own mind which was at war, a part of him wanting to simply take her into his arms and thank her, while the other wanted her out of his house. 

She placed a plate in front of him at the table, settling on the opposite side herself, her own plate at hand. He glanced between the plate which was in front of him and the one which was already on the table, one he hadn't noticed before. She even went through the effort to make a savory and sweet breakfast to satisfy whatever he felt like having. 

"Did you sleep well?" She asked with a small laugh, thinking the sour look on his face was caused by not getting enough sleep. 

"Can you leave?"

The strawberry Josie had just popped between her lips left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I'm sorry?" 

Lando kept his gaze down on the table, afraid if he looked at her he would see the damage he was about to cause. "I think you should go home… I think you got the wrong idea."

"What are you talking about?" She was confused, though a smile was still present on her face as if she was waiting for him to say he's joking. He was acting strange and it began to make her feel uncomfortable. 

"It was just a bet, nothing more. This only happened because I lost a bet with Max." He struggled to form words in a comprehensive order. 

The butterflies she was feeling only a few minutes ago had turned into a sickening, tight knot. She couldn't believe what he was saying but the look on his face told her he was being dead serious. Josie carefully placed down her cutlery before it would fall out of the grip of her fingers.

"I didn't think you'd actually let it happen." He regretted those words instantly. 

"Are you kidding me?!" She snapped, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly his shirt didn't feel like enough, it definitely wasn't enough to hide the humiliation. Lando, out of all the people. The guy who always showed her so much respect, such kindness, the one she laid herself bare to. Now it made sense why Max went home for the night although he was meant to be living with Lando, it was all a sick joke. When she stayed silent, Lando’s eyes lifted to meet her painful gaze, his heart was thumping in his throat, but there was no turning back now. He just proved to himself he wasn't worth her attention. 

"Enjoy your breakfast." Her chair moved back with a shriek of the metal on the tiled floor, the sound running through both of them with a shiver. "I'm not hungry anymore." With that Lando was left alone at the table at his own wish, staring at the empty seat the girl left. Though Lando knew he had caused her pain with his lie, he attempted to convince himself this was for their own good, yet he didn't realise how he made the girl doubt the image of herself, him and their friendship.

Josie walked out of the guest bedroom wearing her dress again, in her hands were Lando's blazer and the button up shirt. Lando was now standing blankly staring out the window in his living room, the breakfast abandoned, he turned around to face her after hearing footsteps. He was about to speak but she violently shoved the clothes into his hands. "Josie." He sighed desperately. He wanted to grab her hand and tell her it was all a lie, that he's selfishly scared, but he only whispered "I'm sorry, let me know when you get home." He had never heard her laugh so bitterly, her laughter was usually a sound so beautiful to him, now it was painfully harsh. "Please." He softly added trying to do the minimal damage control, though his eyes avoided hers at all cost.

"You're an asshole Lando." She hissed, slipping on her shoes and leaving his house with a slam of the door.

Lando thankfully had enough time to somewhat get his shit together before Max had come back home in the afternoon. He debated whether he made a mistake, he even thought about confessing to his best mate, but he quickly chickened out as soon as Max had entered through the front door with a grin on his face. Max already mentioned how he didn’t want to hear any more of Lando’s overthinking before.

Lando surprised himself with how he managed to trick Max and how well he hid how much his actions were eating him up inside. Everything was going according to Lando’s plan until a few weeks later Max was coming back from the supermarket when he spotted a familiar face walking on the other side of the street. Of course he crossed over, catching up to the girl as he already had questions on the tip of his tongue about why she hadn't replied to any of his messages ever since the night they hung out, something he couldn't quite understand, but he was ready to approach her for a catch up.

"Hello Stranger." Max grinned, stepping in front of the girl, though her face didn't mirror the enthusiasm. 

Josie let out a scoff, glaring at a guy she once called a close friend. "Max, don't talk to me." She shook her head, ready to make an escape around him, Max being quick to prevent her from getting away.

He furrowed his eyebrow, a defensive look on his face. "Hey I know it's a bit awkward with you and Lando, but like…" 

Josie turned around, not understanding how he had the audacity to act so innocent. She lifted her sunglasses, fixing them on top of her head, ensuring he could clearly see her eyes and her seriousness. 

"A bit awkward? Max I can't believe two guys I called my friends humiliated me like this." She sighed. "You're literally just as bad as him!" 

"Me? What are you on about?" Max’s eyes were wide.

Josie rolled her eyes in frustration. "Making bets to sleep with me, what are you 15?!" 

Max's mouth opened and closed. "Josie…" he spoke calmly. "Now I seriously have no clue what you're talking about.”

“Just drop it Max.”

“Yes we made a bet but it wasn't with the intention of him sleeping with you, he lost so I wanted to use that to encourage him to stop pining over you and finally make a move." He spoke honestly, but Josie just stared at him unconvinced. “Look I don’t know what the hell he told you, but apparently you two had a good night and then you ghosted him.”

Josie felt her stomach drop, she didn’t particularly feel like reliving the morning after, but she wanted to get the truth across. “He told me to leave the next morning, made me feel like an idiot for falling into his trap which was just a bet to get me into bed.”

Max closed his eyes, rubbing his face in disbelief. “Josie he’s had the maddest crush on you since I can remember, but he has some sick idea in his head that no girl will stick around him and no fucking wonder if he acts like that, but what I’m saying is that the bet wasn’t to sleep with you, okay?”

The thought of Lando lying to her and hurting her on purpose only aggravated her more and more. “I don’t care.”

It was fair to say Josie wasn’t about to forget the whole situation and confidently believe whatever Max would tell her within a few minutes, but she did agree to sitting down with him at a small cafe round the corner and hearing him out. Although Max was mad, he still had his mindset on the whole point of this, so he showed Josie messages between himself and Lando, most of them including Lando praising and gushing over her. Max only kept the screenshots to tease Lando whenever he got a bit too cocky, but now they turned out suitable to save his ass. One of the messages was back from when Josie was still in a relationship and Lando claimed he would treat her much better, which in this situation turned quite ironic. 

Lando couldn’t understand why Max had come home so moody that night, usually the two were straight up with each other about whatever bothered them, usually. Now Max was bitter, annoyed he had been lied to and also dragged into the situation by his best mate. He simply didn’t feel like talking to him, especially since he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep calm. Max left Josie with a decision to make and he wouldn’t have been surprised at all if she refused, but he went to sleep knowing he did what he could. 

When the British GP came around Lando was glad to know Max would still be coming to support him although he seemed to be much more occupied recently, physically and mentally that is. He didn’t see much of his best friend and when he did, he seemed a little off. Of course he asked what was wrong, but every time Max played it out really well, asking Lando about himself instead. 

So far the weekend was going very decently for the whole team, Lando qualified p4 in the sprint quali, giving him a great start position.When he was finally done with the pre race interviews, he could now fully focus on preparing for the race, so he went out of the garage to search for Jon to let him know he was ready for little pre race training.

The Mclaren driver found Jon standing in a small crowd, talking to some of the McLaren mechanics, Lando easily joining in with the conversation. He fist bumped a few of the drivers who walked by, wishing them luck, though his eyes caught onto a familiar mop of curls, similar to his own. Max was standing with his arms around a female in a hug, Lando smiled to himself, remembering his best friend had mentioned bringing a date today, though the smile faded when the girl pulled away from him. Her mouth was agape, laughing at something Max had said, touching his arm before he swung his arm around her. Lando couldn't hear her laugh as he stood rather far away, but he could recognise her even if she had her back to him. His jaw stiffened, it became crystal clear why Max had been so absent recently. Lando watched the pair, unable to move or make a noise, his heart felt like it was crushing his ribs.

[marauders-venting]

Pardon My French

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 3556

note: thank you to @ probably_wizardingworld_artist on instagram for helping me translate things into french. also i got some of the lines that sirius says from this website https://www.fluentu.com/blog/french/french-pick-up-lines/

a/n: if you dont speak french (like me) dont look up a translation! everything will be clear by the end of the fic and its more fun if you find out along with remus. i mean, i cant really stop you if you want to translate the sentences but thats just my advice :)

Remus was sitting in the library, a French to English dictionary open on his lap, sighing in frustration as he flipped through the pages. For the past couple of weeks, Sirius had taken to murmuring things in French under his breath and it drove Remus crazy that he didn’t know what they meant. He had asked Sirius on several occasions but Sirius always refused to tell him. But the fact that he didn’t understand the words wasn’t the only reason it drove him crazy when Sirius spoke French. It’s not Remus’ fault that Sirius sounds really hot when his lips curve around the words in “the language of love”.

Remus tries not to think about it but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult because every time they’re alone together Sirius seems to find something to say in French (if only to piss Remus off).

The last time Sirius had said something in French to him had been last weekend. It was the first sunny weekend since the winter and Marlene had suggested that they all go down to the lake for a swim.

Remus’ brain could barely form a single coherent thought from the moment Sirius took off his shirt; he was too busy trying not to stare. He remembered jumping into the lake and trying to get warm by swimming to the far side, away from all his friends. Sirius had followed him to make sure he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he had said, smiling slightly at Sirius. “Just cold.”

“Oh okay,” Sirius said, looking relieved. He had glanced back at their friends before whispering, “On devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique” and submerging his head in the water and swimming back to James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary and Alice. Remus had felt a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Then there was the time that Sirius had skipped Quidditch practice to visit Remus in the hospital wing after a particularly bad full moon. James, being the captain, had been able to delay the practice so that he and Peter could come to visit as well but they had to practice for the game the following day. James had to be at the practice because he was the captain and Peter had to be there because they didn’t have another Keeper to fill in. But James had given Sirius permission to stay with Remus (which showed just how terrible he felt that he couldn’t stay as well). They watched a bit of the practice from the hospital wing but Remus was getting frustrated, having to stay in a hospital bed for so long. So, after clearing it with Madam Pomfrey, Sirius helped Remus climb all the way to the Astronomy Tower. They sat up there watching the sunset when Sirius said, “Il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes.”

“Ugh, do you make it your life goal to patronize me?” Remus had said.

“Of course, Moony, what else would I live for?”

“Are you ever going to stop doing that?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Sirius had replied, grinning at him. “It’s too much fun.”

“Why do you even bother?” Remus said. “You know I don’t understand a single word of what you’re saying. Why don’t you go talk to someone who speaks French?”

“Because then they’d know what I was saying,” Sirius replied simply. He had refused to answer any more of his questions.

Remus had needed to spend that night in the hospital wing again. All night, Sirius’ voice rang through his head but every time he tried to make something coherent of it, actually words or letters or even sounds, he couldn’t. He could never remember what Sirius had said long enough to actually look it up or ask anyone.

But lately, Remus had noticed that Sirius had been repeating the same sentence in French practically every day. He recognises the sound of the words in Sirius’ mouth.

So today, Remus waited until he was alone with Sirius, waited for Sirius to say what Remus knew he would. And when he did Remus repeated the words in his head a million times until he remembered them. And now Remus was in the library and looking up the words in a dictionary. 

He knew that he could’ve gone to Lily and asked her to translate it for him but he didn’t want to. He knows it’s stupid but he feels like this is something that Sirius is saying to him and only to him. Remus had never heard Sirius whisper in French to anyone else. And as much as Remus pretended to be annoyed by it, he actually liked that he had this with Sirius. He liked that they had something that was just their own. And even though it was probably nothing, he didn’t want to share it with Lily right now.

Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi. That was the sentence. Remus looked up each word individually and came to the conclusion that he must have heard wrong or maybe the words were spelt differently to how they were pronounced. Because there was no way in hell that Sirius had said these words to him. It was impossible. Right? Remus didn’t know. And he knew that the only way he could be sure was by asking Lily. He had asked Sirius a million times to no avail. And he needs to know what Sirius has been saying to him, especially now that there’s a chance… No, Remus tells himself, you just translated wrong. Don’t get your hopes up. So Remus gives in. He’d rather ask Lily and find out what Sirius has been saying to him every day for the last month than keep this to himself without even understanding it.

“Hey Lily,” he started, getting her attention. Remus had waited until the two of them were alone, just in case he had translated right. Which he hadn’t. He knows he translated it wrong. But he’d still rather nobody knew about it. “What does ‘chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi’ mean?” He fumbled across the words a bit, hearing how terrible his pronunciation was. Lily looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Where on earth did you hear that sentence?” she asked.

“I read it somewhere,” Remus lied easily. “So what does it mean?”

“It means ‘every day, I fall more in love with you.’” Remus’ jaw dropped open. “Remus, who told you they’re in love with you?”

“What? Nobody! What makes you think someone said that to me?”

“You said that you read that sentence somewhere but if you had read it, you would have no idea how to pronounce it. Besides the look on your face when I told you what it means is more than enough. So who was it?”

“None of your business,” he said. “But y–you’re kidding, right? That’s not actually what it means. Right?”

“No, I’m not kidding, Rem. That’s what it means,” she replied, laughing at the look on his face. “Come on, tell me who it was.”

“No fucking way,” Remus said. “Besides, they’re probably joking. I mean… no, they’re definitely joking.” Lily shrugged.

“Just ask them,” she said. “And then you have to tell me who your secret admirer is.” She poked him in the side.

“Stooooop,” he said, jumping away from her and laughing against his will. “I’m going.” He got up and started walking away.

“Have fun with your mystery lover,” she called after him without looking back. Remus rolled his eyes but his mind was racing. So apparently he hadn’t been wrong. That was what Sirius had said to him. What does this even mean? He’s teasing you, said a voice in his head, like always. Sirius doesn’t love you. Not like that. But he said he does. Don’t be stupid. Sirius isn’t in love with you. He’s joking. Like always.

The next time Sirius said it, they were in the Room of Requirement. Sirius had ambushed Remus in the middle of his prefect rounds with Lily levitating a cardboard box in midair. Typical. He had practically given Remus a heart attack by interrupting his conversation with Lily, leaving Remus to wonder just how much of the conversation he had overheard.

“So have you talked to your mystery French lover yet?” Lily had teased. Remus groaned.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “And I probably won’t.”

“Why not?” Lily demanded. “They’re being very romantic, Remus, you should at least appreciate their effort.”

“I’d appreciate it more if they’d just tell me what the fuck they want instead of sending me coded messages that they know I don’t understand,” Remus grumbled.

“Moonyyyyy,” Sirius said, coming up from behind him. Remus jumped, turning around, heart racing in his chest.

“Sirius? What are you doing here?” he asked. “You know it’s after hours, right?” Sirius snorted.

“Yes, Remus, I am fully aware of the fact that I’m breaking a school rule,” he said, smirking.

“Are you aware that technically Remus and I have to turn you in?” Lily said.

“Ah, but do you really plan on doing that, Evans?” Sirius asked.

“That depends,” she replied. “Why are you here?”

“Right,” Sirius remembered, then he turned to Remus. “James forgot to put this box with the rest of the stuff for tomorrow so I said I’d take it. And you’re coming with me.”

“Remind me why again?” Remus said.

“Moony, come on, don’t make me go alone. I’ll be lonely,” Sirius pouted.

“You are insufferable, did you know that?”

“And yet, you’ve tolerated me for 6 years now.”

“Yeah, the keyword there is ‘tolerated’,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Lils…” he started, turning to her.

“Nope,” she said before he could even ask. “No way. You are not leaving me to do these rounds alone because then I’ll die of boredom. So unless you want me to tell McGonagall that your planning something for tomorrow, you’re going to finish this floor with me and then I’ll go back to the common room and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Evans…” Sirius pouted.

“Nope, that’s non-negotiable, Black. Also, do I want to ask?” She gestured to the hovering box.

“The less you know, the better,” he said. “Although, I would avoid the classrooms near the dungeons tomorrow if I were you.” She nodded and Remus thought he saw her smile slightly for a second.

“You go on, I’ll catch up,” he said to Sirius, knowing that Lily’s mind would not be changed. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have let her leave him to finish this chore alone either. She was right, it was painstakingly boring. Which is why he would much rather be with Sirius. But it was only fair that he finished tonight’s rounds with her; she did cover for him around the full moon, after all.

Sirius pouted but knew better than to argue and turned to go to the Room of Requirement. Remus watched him and he disappeared up a flight of stairs. Only then did he notice Lily was smirking at him.

“What?” he asked, sounding a bit defensive.

“So Sirius is your secret French admirer?” she said.

“W–What?” he spluttered. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for one, the look on your face when he showed up right behind us while we were talking about your mystery lover,” Lily said. “It was the look people make when you’ve just been talking about someone and then they show up and you’re worried that they may have overheard you.”

“That… is a very specific look,” Remus said, avoiding the question she was asking.

“Then you smiled at him when you called him insufferable,” she said.

“So?”

“So it was one of those I’m-smiling-at-you-while-I’m-teasing-you-cause-I’m-secretly-in-love-with-you smiles.”

“Again, that's a very specific expression,” he said.

“Look, I know you like him, so will you just admit it already?”

“Why? What good would that information do you? It’s for me to worry about and for Sirius to never discover, ever.”

“Remus, you’re kidding, right?” she said. “Sirius literally told you that he loves you, in French no less.”

“Exactly, Lily. In French. If he actually meant it, why would he say it in a language that he knows I don’t understand? He just knew that I would look it up and he wanted to make some joke.”

“I really don’t think so, Remus,” Lily said, shaking her head. “I think he really loves you.”

“He doesn’t,” Remus said. “He can’t. Not like that.”

“Remus, do you love him?” she asked. Remus closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I love him.”

“So why are you doing this to yourself? Just ask him what he meant when he said it. You don’t even have to tell him anything, just ask him what he meant.”

“But… what if he says it was a joke?”

“First of all, I don’t think he will,” Lily said. “But if he does, that’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? It won’t be a surprise or anything.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Remus sighed and looked away from her. “I don’t think I’m ready to hear him say it. To be properly rejected.”

“Oh, Rem,” she said. They had reached the end of the corridor and Lily stopped to hug him. “Obviously I’m not going to make you do anything. You know what I think. Go find Sirius now, he’ll be waiting for you. Do what you think is right.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging her back. “Yeah, okay.” So Lily went in the direction of the common room and Remus went to the Room of Requirement.

He found Sirius sitting with his back against the wall, the box beside him.

“You’re an idiot,” Remus told him, trying to put the conversation with Lily out of his mind. “You’re practically begging to get caught.” Sirius shrugged.

“I was waiting for you,” he said. “Come on, let’s go in.” They paced back and forth in front of the wall three times. We need a place to hide our things, Remus thought. A door appeared and Sirius opened it, leading the box in with his wand. They had been here before to hide loads of things. The room was pretty cluttered from years of students dumping their things in it but they knew where exactly to hide the box so that they’d be able to find it tomorrow when they needed it. Remus followed Sirius through aisles upon aisles of junk, looking at all the broken, discarded things people threw in here.

They found the corner where they’d left everything else and Sirius added the box to the rest of the pile.

“Are we done here?” Remus asked.

“Yep, we can leave now,” Sirius said. They had started walking back towards the door when Remus heard Sirius say it from behind him.

“Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi.” Remus turns to him and stops him in his tracks.

“Pads, why do you keep saying that? Who are you talking to?”

“Remus, you are aware that you’re the only one here right? I’m talking to you.”

“Then why… why are you—?”

“I know, I know, you don’t understand French,” Sirius says. “That’s why it's fun. It’s amusing to know something that you don’t, for once.”

“Sirius… I know what that sentence means,” Remus says quietly. Sirius’ neck snaps up.

“What?”

“I know what that sentence means,” Remus repeats.

“No, you don’t,” Sirius says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do. I asked Lily after the last time you said it. She translated for me.”

“Fuck, I didn’t know Lily could speak French,” Sirius says, rubbing a hand over his face. “So… so this whole time you’ve known what I’m saying? So you know that I… you know that I… oh god, Remus I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to… I was just…” Sirius starts to back away, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at Remus. Remus reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Don’t go,” Remus says. “Sirius. Is it a joke? Are you making a joke? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Cause if it’s a joke I’d rather you bury me under all the crap in this room and spare me the pain.”

“What?”

“It’s not a joke, is it?” Remus asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“No,” Sirius said, softly. “It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Remus said, pressing a finger to Sirius’ lips. “Sirius,” Remus tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ear. Remus was vaguely aware of Sirius stepping towards him, towards his touch. “I love you, too.” Sirius gapes at him

“Really?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Remus says. He’s still holding Sirius’ hand. He pulls Sirius closer and lets his other hand graze Sirius’ cheek.

“Puis-je t'embrasser?” Sirius whispers.

“Pads, I… I don’t know what that means.” Sirius lets out a small laugh and looks down at the floor. Then he looks back up at Remus, his grey eyes glistening in the last sliver of sunlight. He’s biting his lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Remus says, without thinking. He feels the blush blooming on his cheeks but Sirius is already kissing him, rising on his tip-toes to make his lips reach Remus’. Remus feels electric currents dancing around his body, unable to contain the excitement. He’s kissing Sirius. Sirius is kissing him back. Sirius loves him. Sirius loves him in the same way that he loves Sirius. Sirius is snaking his hands around Remus’ waist pulling him closer. Sirius’ hair is soft, tangled between his fingers. Sirius is here, in his arms, and it’s everything Remus has been wanting and more.

“Wait, so now can you tell me everything you’ve been saying in French the whole time?” They’re sitting in the same large armchair, hands still linked together, legs tucked against their chests, knees and thighs and hips pressed together. Remus is very aware of every point where his skin is making contact with Sirius’. He’s counting them.

They found the armchair in the Room of Requirement; it’s unclear to them whether the chair is something that’s been dumped in the room by somebody else or if the room conjured it up because they were looking for it. 

Neither one of them wants to go back to the common room yet. Remus doesn’t want to see Lily’s smirk and to have to admit she was right at the moment. He’ll do that tomorrow. Right now, all he wants is to be with Sirius. To press little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips just because he can.

“Oh god,” Sirius says, burying his face in between Remus’ shoulder and the back of the armchair. “It’s like you want me to embarrass myself.”

“This surprises you?” Remus kisses the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then his neck. Just because he can. “Please.”

“Ah fine,” Sirius gives in. “Um, what do you want to know?”

“What did you say that day at the lake?” Remus asks.

“Oh that. I said, ‘on devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique’. It means uh… ugh, you’re going to laugh at me for this. It means ‘you should be arrested for excessive beauty in public’,” Sirius said, blushing. Remus rolled his eyes but he felt his cheeks heat too. He smiles a little.

“What about that day on the Astronomy Tower?” he continues.

“Ugh,” Sirius buries his face in his hands. “You’re trying to kill me. I said, ‘il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes’. Which means, uh… ‘there’s so much sun in your eyes that I get a tan when you look at me.’”

“You’re quite the poet, aren’t you?” Remus smiles. “And what about tonight?”

“I thought you said you knew what that meant,” Sirius says. “Or were you bluffing the whole time?”

“No, I know what it means,” Remus says. “I just want to hear you say it. In English this time, please.”

“So demanding,” Sirius teases. “I’ve said it in French a million times already and you want me to say it in English? What difference does it make?”

“Well, none to you, you speak both languages.”

“Oh, alright,” Sirius says. It’s the first time Remus has seen his face really go red. He decides he likes it. “Every day I fall more in love with you.” Remus can’t hide his smile, nor does he want to, as he leans in to kiss Sirius. He brushes his lips against Sirius’ timidly before connecting them, his hand caressing Sirius’ cheek. Remus loses count of the points of contact between him and Sirius as their bodies melt together and Remus worries that he’s about to wake up from a dream. But when he feels Sirius’ hand gently tracing the scars on his hand he knows that this is real, that Sirius can really love him. Sirius does love him.

People come to the Room of Requirement to throw things away, to hide things that they don’t want anybody else to know about, to leave things they never want to see again. But that night, Remus didn’t just leave something in the Room of Requirement. He found something, too.

[jaeminlore]

Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

-

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

-

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

-

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

-

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

-

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

-

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

-

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

-

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

-

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

-

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

-

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[matwith1t]

A/N: Back with some fluff!! Straight fluff. No angst nonsense. Any & all feedback is appreciated! Words of affirmation is my love language so 🔪 please🔪 Also, my requests are open 🥳 I’m working on one now, so if you have any ideas, my inbox is open!! I hope you’re all having a wonderful morning/afternoon/night!! 🤩

Summary: Mat tries to guess your favorite color, and even though he sounds absolutely positive with his answer, he’s wrong. But you don’t have the heart to tell him, so he spends your relationship knowing your wrong favorite color.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: two swear words, slight drinking // WC: 4K // Fluff

A slight spring breeze whistling through the air caused goosebumps to form on your legs. Everything was always a little better in the springtime; the weather started to warm up, parks began to become full of life again, and you were able to sit outside without freezing off your toes. Although there was still a crispness in the air––the last remnants of winter hanging on by a thread––the sun shined down, and you could peacefully sit outside.

On the balcony of Mat’s apartment, the two of you sat on the cushioned couch together. With your head in his lap, you had a book raised above your head, engrossed with the words on the page. And Mat, he had an arm lazily draped over your collar bones as his other hand scrolled on his phone. You thought he was engrossed with whatever game he played, but with his semi-serious tone of voice behind his question, you could tell he got lost in his head.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You dogeared the page you were on, closed the book softly, and placed it on the ground. You flicked your eyes up to see Mat already staring down at you, “My favorite color?”

Mat nodded his head, “We’ve been going out for a few months, but I was thinking about you and I––I don’t think I know it.”

A smirk slowly grew on your face as you teased him, “You were thinking about me?”

With a smile on his own face, he rolled his eyes at you, and with the arm he had draped across your upper chest, he gave your shoulder a squeeze, “I was,” he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, “So, what is it?”

The feeling of your stomach flipping at his confession made you feel anything but nonchalant. At his words, your stomach swarmed with an amount of tingles that you only felt when you were with him; the air smelled a little sweeter, his touch felt a little warmer, and you felt yourself fall a little more for him. Because even though you were physically with him in this moment, he was also consumed with the thought of you.

“What do you think my favorite color is?” Your tone was light and airy, excited to hear his answer.

Mat’s chest expanded as he took in a deep breath and then let it out through his nose. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as he stared straight ahead. When his eyebrows rose, it was like you could see the light bulb go off in his head.

He looked down at you, the reflection of the sun in his eyes made them shine bright, “Blue.”

A laugh escaped your lips, and his smile grew, “And why do you think that?”

“Because you always steal this sweatshirt,” he tugged on the strings of his blue Islanders sweatshirt that you currently wore, “You always talk about how nice the sky looks, always get excited whenever you see one of those blue butterflies.” His shy smile grew more timid as he listed reasons why he thought blue was your favorite color, “And you always write with a blue pen.”

Blue. He said it so confidently. And he listed so many reasons that you didn’t even notice about yourself as to why he thought blue was your favorite color. The warmth you felt whenever you were around intensified as you sat in silence.

“So?” Mat’s soft voice brought you out of your head.

He was so sure of his answer that you didn’t have the heart to tell him that your favorite color was not blue.

“You guessed it,” you said with a nod of your head. The smug smirk on his face widened as he sunk a bit further down the couch and caused you to chuckle, “What?”

Again, Mat only shrugged his shoulders, “I’m always right.”

A laugh that caused you to screw your eyes tight and clutch a hand to your stomach echoed off the city buildings. When you opened your eyes, you saw Mat adoringly gaze down at you like he thought he was the luckiest person on the planet. You reached an arm down to grab your book, but before you could resume reading, Mat lowered his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re cute,” he whispered.

With your book long forgotten, you raised your hand up to your shoulder––to where Mat’s hand lazily drew circles––and laced your fingers between his. He gave your hand a squeeze and a smile took over your face as nuzzled against the soft fabric of the sweatshirt he was wearing. And in record time, your eyes shut and you fell asleep.

–––

A week after Mat guessing your favorite color, he showed up at your apartment.

It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday, and you were up to your elbows in chores you had been putting off. So you decided that today was the day to get them done. A fairly loud knock on the door cut over the music playing through your headphones. While you would have answered it, your hands were a bit soapy from doing the dishes, so you asked your roommate if they could get it.

You were back to listening to music and washing the dishes, but then your roommate walked into the kitchen with a wide smile on their face, “It’s for you.”

With your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you nodded your head. After washing the soap off from your arms, and drying your hands, you scrolled through your phone to make sure you didn’t accidentally miss on plans with a friend. But there was nothing.

When you reached the front door, you smiled when you saw Mat waiting.

Without a greeting, he raised his hand that held a bouquet of blue flowers that made your heart melt. There were blue peonies, blue hydrangeas, blue tulips, and a few other blue flowers that looked like they were just thrown into a bouquet.

He looked shy with his free hand curled in a fist, stiff at his side, as his index finger lightly picked at the skin by his thumb. He looked unsure of himself––which was uncommon for him––but his rosy cheeks and timid smile made you think that he had never shown up at a person’s house with flowers before.

“Mat,” you said his name slowly; the brown paper they were wrapped in crinkled under your hand as you carefully took the flowers from him, “These are…” You glanced up at him and he still looked nervous as ever as you brought the flowers up to smell, “Amazing, thank you.”

While the presentation of the flowers was less than ideal, that didn’t matter in the slightest. Because in a matter of a few weeks, the flowers would be dead. But the memory––the giddiness you felt––of Mat showing up out of the blue with flowers would last for a lifetime.

He let out a shaky breath, “They’re––They’re blue.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you waved him further into your place. “That they are,” you chuckled as you went into your kitchen and opened up a few cabinets for a vase. Once you found one that would fit the flowers, you filled it up with water, “They’re really pretty, Mat.”

It looked like he had just come straight from a workout; athletic shorts, sneakers, and a dry fit t-shirt. And normally after workouts, he was almost as confident in himself after scoring a goal. But he still looked shy.

“I was walking down the street when I saw them,” his voice held a bit more strength to it, “They’re your favorite color.”

You had just finished re-arranging the flowers into the vase to have them all fit when he said his last sentence. They’re your favorite color. For a moment, you forgot that you fabricated the teeny tiny lie about your favorite color. But it made sense as to why he sounded so confident about that sentence than all the other words he spoke.

Because he truly believed that he knew your favorite color.

A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach as you gazed at him with a smile. With the flowers safely in their vase, you walked over to Mat, the smile slowly growing on your face with each step. As if he knew what your next move was, he opened his arms for you, and you wrapped your arms around his waist in an embrace.

While Mat still smelled faintly of sweat, you still took a deep breath of him in, “Yeah,” you mumbled with your face pressed up against his chest. He gently rubbed his palm and fingertips along your back, “My favorite color.”

–––

Summer came along and with Mat not having nearly as many hockey commitments, you were able to soak up time with him like you soaked up the sun.

While the sport wasn’t taking up his time, Mat continued to spend time with his teammates that stayed in New York for the off season. He received a pool party invitation from a teammate and immediately called you up, “It’s an Islanders Island pool party,” he sounded so excited. But you told him it was a terrible play on the name of Gilligan's Island for a pool party.

But you agreed to go with him, and that’s how you found yourself in the backyard of someone’s house with a pool.

And it really was an Islanders Island pool party. The whole house was decked out in traditional Islanders colors, everyone was required to wear an Islanders color, the food and drinks provided could all be found at the arena, there were custom Islanders balloons hung on fences and trees…It seemed as if this was a team bonding experience to get the players excited for the upcoming season.

You were sitting on the ledge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, as you caught up with Tito’s girlfriend. The two of you were laughing until you heard Tito call out “Hey! No cheating!” Both of you paused your conversation to turn your head toward the commotion. And like you guessed, Mat was doing anything in his power to win at a game of chicken.

Mat and Tito were standing in the water, as they both held up two kids on their shoulders, who wrestled each other until the other made a splash in the water. Mat’s infectious laughter––head slightly tilted back, eyes and nose wrinkling, with an open mouth––caused a smile to light up your face.

“You can’t go for my ankles,” Tito sneered at Mat, who again, laughed in his face.

The two teams continued to fight, with Mat trying to hook one of his legs around Tito’s ankles to cause him to fall. The chicken fight was quite captivating, but before you knew it, right as Mat tried to hook his leg around Tito’s ankle again, he kicked Mat’s thigh in retaliation.

“Cheater––”

But a loud splash happened before Mat could finish yelling at his best friend. The kid who was on Mat’s shoulder swam to the surface, and Mat popped up with a gasp. As Tito and the kid who was on his shoulders celebrated with high-fives, Mat splashed them with water. And with a pout on his face, he walked over to the ledge you sat on.

He walked slowly over to you as he pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. You predicted his movements right, because right as you slightly opened up your legs, Mat came to stand right between them. He rested his elbows on your knees and leaned the side of his face on his arm as he looked up at you.

Knowing how much he hated losing, you smiled sympathetically down at him and ran a hand through his hair, “Cheaters never win.”

Mat’s head popped up just as fast as his jaw dropped, “I didn’t––”

“You went for my ankles,” Tito said from behind as he splashed Mat. You flinched as some of the water sprayed up on you.

“You kicked my thigh!” Mat turned to look at his best friend who pushed himself up from the pool to sit next to his girlfriend. He then turned to look at you with an even bigger pout, “I thought you were on my team.”

A small laugh escaped your lips, “I’m always on your team,” Mat looked like he was going to interject about how that wasn’t the case with your previous comment, but you spoke before him, “When you don’t cheat.”

“Ha,” Tito gloated.

Mat glared at Tito, but as if their mini-rivalry and cheating scandal didn’t happen, Tito asked if Mat wanted to get some food. And with a shrug and a nod of his head, Mat lifted himself from out of the pool. He sat on the ledge next to you for a brief second, “Want anything?”

You thought for a moment, tilting your head back and forth as you kicked your feet around in the water, “A cookie.” You smiled up at Mat.

He reciprocated your smile before leaning in and capturing your lips in a short, chaste kiss, “A cookie it is.”

Mat and Tito walked away, lightly shoving each other’s shoulders, and you picked up conversation with Tito’s girlfriend. Fifteen or so minutes had passed before you saw Mat’s blue swim trunks in your peripheral vision sit next to you. He handed you a small blue paper plate with a blue frosted cookie.

“Thanks,” you smiled in appreciation. You were about to take a bite before Tito scoffed.

“He damn near killed me to get that cookie for you,” Tito’s tone of voice was joking, but your eyes widened as you turned your head to see Mat ducking his chin into his chest, face turning red. “I told him that there were other cookies at the table, but he said he needed to get the blue cookie for you.”

Blue.

Mat avoided eye contact with the group and shrugged his shoulders, “It’s your favorite color,” he softly said only for you to hear, as he kicked up some water with his toes, “It was the last one. I needed to get it.”

Favorite color.

Lightly, you knocked your shoulder against his. With his face still red, Mat looked up at you with a small smile. You pressed a kiss to kiss cheek, “Thank you,” you whispered.

Mat shrugged his shoulders, downplaying his actions as if he didn’t do everything in his power to make sure you got your favorite color. The appreciation you felt for him went beyond anything you could verbalize, so you offered him a bite of your cookie.

Maybe blue could become your favorite color.

–––

Mat had spent the past few December’s in New York, not being able to get as much time as he wanted to spend the holiday season with his family…but this year he had you.

Dressed warmly in scarves and winter coats, you had your mitten clad hands wrapped around Mat’s arm as you walked down the street to Tito’s place in the city. The air was brisk, and the wind felt like icicles hitting your skin, but with your face pressed firmly into Mat’s side, the cold air didn’t feel that bad.

The party was small, a few bottles of wine were opened and shared with one another. The night was full of laughs, Mat whispering softly in your ear, and gentle touches from him that caused an electric jolt in your body whenever he brushed his fingertips on your lower back. You met some new people, caught up with people you already knew, but when the night dwindled down to just you, Mat, Tito, his girlfriend, and another couple…That’s when the fun started.

Tito had taken out board games to play…But added a few drinking rules to them. And by the end of the second game of a non-sober Candy Land, everyone started to feel a slight buzz. And that’s when Tito’s girlfriend had the idea to play a couple’s game…A how well do the couple’s know each other game.

Tito gathered up spare paper and pens from around his place and handed them out to everyone. And his girlfriend tore up paper into rectangles and wrote questions on them to make a deck of cards. The rules of the game: a couple picks up a card from the deck and they have fifteen seconds to write down on their paper––without looking at their significant other’s paper––matching answers.

If you got an answer wrong, you took a drink. If you got the answer right, you kept the card. And whoever ended up with the most cards at the end was deemed the winner.

The questions were easy; Where did you first meet, What is your boyfriend’s favorite dessert, What is your girlfriend’s pet peeve, Where was your first kiss…Very simple. But there were some more challenging questions; What is your girlfriend’s shoe size, What is your boyfriend’s least favorite candy, What was the first picture you took as a couple…

You and Mat were on a roll, only having to take a sip of your drink three times. Tito and his girlfriend were only a few cards behind you. And the other couple tapped out after they had to take a sip of their drink after every other card they pulled.

“Tie game…” Tito deviously smirked across the table at you and Mat, “One card left.”

“So if Mat and I don’t get the question right,” You looked between the feuding best friends, both of them wanting desperately to win, “do you two have a chance to steal?”

“That seems fair,” Tito’s girlfriend nodded at you as she took a sip of her wine.

“They won’t need to steal it,” Mat glared at Tito, the competitiveness coming out of both of them in their glare off, “Because we’re going to win.”

Tito continued to taunt Mat, “Wanna bet?”

“Remember that you two do play on the same hockey team,” you placed a hand on Mat’s shoulder as you raised your eyebrows at Tito.

“That’s irrelevant right now,” Tito narrowed his eyes more on Mat.

Tito’s girlfriend chimed in, “And remember that you two are best friends––”

“Not important,” Mat flared his nostrils.

You and Tito’s girlfriend looked at each other, helpless gazes as you both sat next to your bickering boyfriends. With a shrug of her shoulders, Tito’s girlfriend rolled her eyes at their antics and took a rather large sip of her wine. You followed suit.

With a deep sigh, you had a hand placed on the card ready to flip it over when you were given the go ahead. When the timer was set, and you said ‘ready,’ Tito started the fifteen seconds when you flipped over the card.

What is your girlfriend’s favorite color?

Mat tipped his head back, eyebrows raised high, and let out a loud laugh. Immediately he wrote his answer down with a smug look, “We have this in the bag.”

With a roll of your eyes, you wrote down your favorite color on your piece of paper. And when the timer chimed at the end of fifteen seconds, Mat looked too proud of himself as he drummed his fingers on the back of the notebook where he had his answer written.

“On three, flip your notebooks,” Tito said with a disappointed voice, upset that you and Mat had gotten possibly the easiest question in the whole game.

When the magic number three was said, you and Mat turned your notebooks around. At the answers written on your papers, both Tito and his girlfriend’s jaws dropped wide open. Their faces beamed with smiles as they high-fived each other excitedly.

“We can steal!”

Mat, confused at their celebratory high-fives, scoffed, “What are you––”

“You don’t have the same answers!” Tito looked as if he was about ready to jump up from his seat on the floor as he got ready to write down the answer to his girlfriend’s favorite color.

Mat’s jaw dropped as you heard a silent gasp of shock from him, “That can’t be right––”

“You wrote blue,” Tito smirked victoriously as his eyes shifted to you, “She did not.”

Blue.

Your jaw dropped just as Mat took the notebook from your hands, not believing what his best friend said. You saw his eyes scan repeatedly over the paper that had your handwriting; eyebrows rising high in disbelief as he continued to read a color that was not blue.

Slowly, he lowered the notebook and connected his dismal eyes with your shocked ones that were already locked in on him. With more than enough glasses of wine in your system, you forgot that Mat believed that blue was your favorite because of that one spring afternoon.

Mat’s voice was quiet, low-pitched so only you could hear him, “Your favorite color isn’t blue?”

“I––” Your voice got caught in your throat, knowing that you had to truthfully answer him this time, but with his pitiful eyes gazing into yours, you felt your heart crack because for months he was so sure that your favorite color was blue, “Not really…” your voice trailed off at the end.

Mat let out a small chuckle, a light-hearted smile tugging the corners of his lips upward, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, looking down into your wine glass, “When you said the reasons why you thought blue was my favorite color,” you looked up at him with a small smile, the fond memory replaying in your mind, “You looked so happy, I didn’t want to say you were wrong.”

Mat snickered as he shook his head at your reasoning. He threw an arm around your shoulder, and you easily fell into his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “So you didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Over a color?”

“I mean––”

“So all this time you thought blue was her favorite color?” Tito laughed as he took a sip of his drink. “Is that why you’ve only worn blue suits before games this season?” Mat’s cheeks turned red as he flipped off his friend. But Tito kept provoking him, “And the pool party over the summer––You pushed me down to the grass to get a blue cookie––”

“Shut up,” Mat playfully glared at Tito.

But like any best friend, Tito continued to poke fun at Mat, “Or, oh––that time we saw a blue––”

And like any best friend on the opposite end of some light hearted heckling, Mat got up from his spot on the floor and tackled Tito before he could finish his sentence. While the two of them wrestled on the ground, Tito’s girlfriend came and sat beside you.

Her eyes were on both of your boyfriend’s as they continued to roll around. She let out a chuckle, “Blue is a pretty nice color.”

And with your eyes trained on Mat, you looked more closely at his outfit for tonight. He wore blue jeans, a navy blue sweater, and thinking back to your walk in the beginning of the night…the jacket he wore was also blue. Although it came a few moments to late, it was the details at which he paid attention––Like how he noticed you always stole his blue sweatshirt, complimented the blue sky, got excited when you saw a blue butterfly, or how you only wrote with a blue pen––that solidified you changing your favorite color.

“Yeah,” you let out a laugh as Mat put Tito in a headlock, and you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your growing smile, “It’s growing on me.”

[thatkpophoelife]

Jealousy

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem. Reader (ft. Taehyung and NCT Jaehyung)

RATING: Mature 18+

GENRE: NonIdol Au. Highschool Au. Smut. Fluff 

WC: 8K

SUMMARY: You and Jungkook have been best friends since the beginning of time. You spent every waking moment together until one night your at a party and the feelings you have been trying to keep inside decide they want to erupt and make your life harder than you ever could have expected. 

WARNINGS: Swearing. under aged drinking. Big dick Jungkook. Oral (Fem. Rec.) Nipple Play. Fingering (Fem. Rec.) Multiple Orgasms. Cream Pie. Unprotected Sex. Slight Daddy Kink. Slight degradation (hardly mentioned). Thigh Ridding. 

A/N: I’m so happy I’m finally done with it. I am so happy with the result. I have been working hard for the last few days getting this ready to post so sorry if anything is spelt wrong or doesn’t make sense. ENJOY! 

You and Jungkook have been best friends since the first grade. It all started when you fell off the monkey bars during recess. Your palms and knees were bloody and scraped. The cement was rough against your skin and you could see those small little rocks in the small cuts on your hands. As a little kid they seemed way worse than they really were. You were scared you would need to go to the doctors for stiches and then they would need to give you a shot. You were like 7, things like that terrified you.

When you looked up through your watery eyes, you could see a little boy with cute cheeks, deep brown eyes, and bangs. You looked back down at the ground and wiped off your cheeks and nose. When you looked back up you saw the same boy but with his hand out for you to grab. You reached out to grab it and he pulled you up with a huge grin and a huff.

“I’m Jungkook but my friends call me Kookie.”

“I'm Y/N. Thanks for helping me up Jungkook.” You though it had a nice ring to it.

“No problem. I have a band aid in my pocket, you can have it”

“Really? Thanks.” When he handed you the band aid you couldn’t help but notice it had a small picture of Woody from Toy Story on it.

In the days that went by, you two hung out nonstop. He told you almost everything that you could learn about a 7-year-old. You learned his birthday was September 1st, he has an older brother named SeokJin that everyone calls Jin, he likes pizza, and loves soccer. You knew other things of course, but those were just some of the basics.

You became best friends extremely fast and spent most of your summer together. You went to the beach more than once a week. Your parents became friends with his parents and there was no going back on this friendship now. You did develop a teensy tiny basically non-existent crush on Jin but it quickly went away when Jungkook called you out on it and asked you to never see his brother in that light again. You agreed because even though you were only now 8, you still had your priorities and Jungkook was in the top 3.  

By the time second grade came around he asked you, aka forced you, into joining his soccer team so you could “spend more time together.” You whined for the entire first practice. Since your mom was excited to finally see you doing a sport, she put your hair up in pigtails and bought you neon pink knee socks with a just as neon yellow visor. You were not happy. When you got to the field you felt out of place and like everyone was laughing at you. Those worries effected how you played. Just because you never played the sport before doesn’t mean you weren’t somewhat decent at it.

You knew how to dribble kind of well and you had decent aim when trying to make the ball in the net. But your real strong suit was goalie. You were never afraid of the ball or of getting hurt. If you needed to you would gladly dive for the ball if that’s what your team needed to win a game. You were never a girly girl so getting dirt on your knees never bothered you.

Despite all of this you still didn’t want to try out. Your mom was loud and never stopped cheering your name, no matter where you were. You had no other siblings so it’s not like she had anywhere else to be. She had her own small company that way she could create her own schedule and get to go to anything you wanted her to and as far as she knew that was everything. All of your class field trips, sport games, school plays, everything. You were too nervous to tell her otherwise because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings. You know that she only went overboard because she loves you so much but sometimes you wished she loved you a little less. And your dad was always busy with his 9-5 job so he never went to any of your things.

You never stopped playing though. You ended up enjoying the sport more than you could have expected. It was even more enjoyable since you were actually good at it, you always got to be goalie in all of your games. You and Jungkook were actually the star players on your co-ed team. And whenever Jungkook would ask you about why you still played even though you “didn’t like it that much” you always said you liked it enough to continue playing and that you had nothing better to do. You knew deep down that he knew you enjoyed the sport just as much as him, but you also knew he would never call you out on it.  

You won almost all of your games, and you and Jungkook always fought over who deserved the trophy’s. Your argument was that the goalie was a key role to stop the other team from scoring. Jungkook’s was that he made most of the goals to keep your teams score up too high for the other team to ever catch up. It always came to a vote among your teammates, Jungkook always won and you knew it was because most of the girls had a crush on him and wanted him to like them back.

Besides that, nothing exciting happend in your friendship for a while. You spent a lot of time playing soccor in parks and when it was soccor season. You spent all of your summers together and both you’re your guys’ parent let you two get a golden retriever to take care of named Olive the summer before 6th grade. She was staying at Jungkook’s though because it was his idea in the first place. It didn’t mean you never go to see her there. You spent half of your summer there so you saw her a lot.

In your summer of 7th grade Olive got hit by a truck. You were both devasted and Jungkook spent a week at your house. All because Jin forgot to let Olive in at night so she decided to run. Jungkook didn’t talk to Jin for almost a month.

Then in 8th grade a boy named Park Jimin decided to throw a “End of the Summer Almost Freshmen in High-School” party. In reality it was more like ten people that were all in some way shape or form a part of his friend circle. You were invited because they needed another girl to come and Jungkook talked you up so much Jimin had no choice.

The night was all fun and games until his parents went to bed. He quickly grabbed an empty 16-liter Coca-Cola bottle and sat it in the middle of the floor and had everyone gather around in a circle. You were beyond nervous considering you hardly knew any of the boys that were playing and you have never had you first kiss.

A few rounds went by and nothing particularly interesting happened. Jimin kissed some girl named Emily that you didn’t like that much anyways. Then it was Jungkook’s turn. He spun it and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. It felt as if the bottle was spinning non-stop. Past Emily, past Nichole, past Maddison, past Jimin, past everyone else. Then it stopped, and pointed at you.

You felt your heart speed up. You couldn’t kiss your best friend. It was wrong in so many ways. But the chanting of your names in the background couldn’t go unnoticed. You had no choice but to kiss him. Well, you kind of did but you were hoping that by doing something like this people will start to like you more and not look at you as Jungkook’s best friend. You both sat up and looked each other in the eyes.

Slowly the rest of the world started to silently drift away. You don’t know if it was because everyone around you stopped talking to watch the kiss or because you were to focused on Jungkook and nothing else. His right hand slowly went to up to your caress your cheek while his left hand was on the floor keeping him balanced. You couldn’t help but notice the sparkle in his eyes. The way they traveled from your pupils, to the tip of your nose, and finally landing on your lips. The way his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your cheek leaving a burning sensation wherever it touched. The way he locked eyes with you one last time to make sure he had your permission first.

You noticed that the second you nodded your head giving him permission; he didn’t waste a second to kiss you. The kiss was soft but urgent. Like you both have been waiting for this very moment for so long. Once he broke the kiss, he looked you in the eyes and gave you a look you would never forget. He smirked.

You couldn’t help but shake your head in absolute confusion and utter disbelief. Did he want that kiss to happen? Did he do that because the guys were watching? You didn’t know. The only thing you knew, was that you’ve had a huge crush on your best friend since the very beginning.

Ever since that day he helped you up from the dirty ground when your hands and knees you scraped and bloody. Ever since he told you it was a good idea to co-own a puppy. Ever since the last day of middle school when you took a selfie jumping with glee. These feelings had been hiding ever since the beginning, and Jungkook’s lips was the only thing to break down the barriers and release those feelings.

You didn’t bother to sit back down in the circle. You wanted to go home, needed to go home. You didn’t want to wake up your parents and ask them to pick you up. You also didn’t want to walk through the door and have them ask why you came home. You knew exactly what to do.

Call Jin.

He answered on about the fourth ring. “Hello?” said the course and tired voice from the other line. You felt bad the second you heard him speak because you knew you woke him up.

“Hey Jin. Umm I was wondering if you could pick me up from the party?” You were prepared to literally beg him to come pick you up.

“Whatever. It’s the same house Kookie’s at, right?” You couldn’t believe you didn’t even need to ask twice.

“That is very correct. I will be ready and waiting outside for you to pull up.”

“Loser. I will be there in 10, don’t make me wait.” You couldn’t help but smile widely while you were getting you stuff together and putting your shoes on.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” You have got to be kidding.

“Hey Jungkook, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here. I was invited” You can see it written all over his cute little bunny face that he was so confused.

“I- I'm just not feeling too well, I'm going home” You couldn’t help the painfully obvious stutter as you lied to your best friend’s face.

“How, it’s a sleep over? Your mom won’t be thrilled if you called her at 1 o’clock in the morning.”

“I already called someone, and they should be here any minute now so you can go back and enjoy kissing those other girls.” What did you just say? You couldn’t stop the words before they came out. Would that be how he found out you liked him? Is that the sentence that would ruin your friendship? Sometimes you felt so very stupid.

“Okay I will.” With that he walked back to continue the game of spin the bottle with a huge smirk on his face. You couldn’t help but stare, eyes wide and mouth agape. You couldn’t help but wonder if that kiss meant nothing to him. As far as you knew that was his first kiss, and it was most defiantly yours.

As you were lost in your dark cloud of thoughts, your phone dinged making you jump a little. It was Jin texting you that he was already there to pick you up. If you were honest, you weren’t expecting him to be here this fast.

You quickly picked your bag off of the ground, slipped on your black and white checkered Vans, and made your way out the door. When you got to Jin’s car, you quickly threw your stuff in the back and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Where to Y/N?” You could still hear the sleep in his voice and see it in his eyes. He was wearing a simple grey Champion hoodie with black Nike joggers. His hair was all messy from sleeping and the moon perfectly aligned his features. You couldn’t lie, Jin was one of the most attractive men you have ever seen, but you prefer guys closer to your age. Plus, you like the younger brother anyway. Hey snap out of it you need to not like your best friend.

“Um, Y/N? Where do you want me to take you because if you don’t speak up, I will take you straight home.”

“Oh, sorry. Can I just crash at your guys’ place? I know Kookie’s not there but I don’t want my parents asking questions and to yell at me for waking you up.” Yes, you were playing the, ‘please don’t rat me out’ card. But you weren’t lying to him so what’s the problem?

“Sure, just sleep in Kook’s bed. You tend to snore sometimes.” He reached over to ruffle your hair with a huge grin on his face

“Hey! I do not snore!” You felt like a 5-year-old throwing a fit with the way you pouted out your bottom lip, crossed your arms over your chest, and sank into the seat.

“Whatever dork. Why do you want to leave early anyways? Did something happen?” You could tell he was genuinely concerned, and he was crazy good at keeping secrets so what was the harm in telling him about your mild crush on his little brother.

“At the party after Jimin’s parents went to sleep we all played spin the bottle and when it was Kookie’s turn I suddenly was really really nervous it would land on one of the other girls and I didn’t know why but then it landed on me and we kissed and now I think I have a moderately huge crush on him that I never realized I had before and I'm kind of freaking out. Don’t tell anybody though please,” You finally took a breath after your long and wordy run on sentence.

“You’re just now realizing?” Jin had a huge smile on his face and was laughing but you had no idea why.

“What do you mean ‘you’re just now realizing?’” You had no idea what he was talking about.

“Y/N you and Jungkook obviously have had huge crushes on each other for like ever. He admitted his to me a while ago.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and you knew you would ask Jungkook about it the next time you saw him.

“Can you just take me to your place. It’s late and I'm tired,” After your friendly reminder Jin drove off to his house so you could sleep. He didn’t poke and prod at it any more and you were grateful. Jin was the older brother you never had and you were the little sister he always wanted.

When you woke up Jungkook was already there. You told him about how Jungkook told him that he had a crush on you. Jungkook shot you down almost immediately saying it was just a way to attempt to humiliate him. You felt hurt. Your best friend of years and your huge crush basically said it would be humiliating to have a crush on you. Lucky for you, you left very shortly after and spent your weekend preparing for your first year of high school and getting over your crush on Jungkook. Mostly.

****

Your freshman year was chaotic. You and Jungkook had only a few classes together so you almost drifted apart. It didn’t help that ever since the party Jungkook seemed to be hiding something from you. Something big. The only thing that kept you close was soccor and Jin. But after first semester Jungkook started hanging out with seniors and going to parties. You asked to go once, thinking that he would stay by your side and not let you be taken away by some guy you didn’t know. That wasn’t the case.

Once you entered through the doors Jungkook quickly left your side and got drunk. You caught him in a corner making out with a girl you had never seen before. Then you watched as he pulled her away to a room. Your curiosity got the best of you and you followed close behind. After a minute of them being alone in a room you began hearing moans. You were destroyed.

You quickly made your way to the door so you could go back home, when you ran into a very beautiful man. He couldn’t have been much older than you. He had beautiful chestnut hair and two beautiful dimples. You didn’t even bother asking for his name once you saw the mischievous glint in his eye. You let him lead you to a room, know what was going to happen.

That was how you lost your virginity. It wasn’t special liked you hoped it was going to be. You later learned his name was Jaehyun. It didn’t matter because you didn’t plan on talking to him again. Neither of you wanted anything more than sex that night.

You and Jungkook got into a fight one night. You don’t know what happened to start the fight. All you remember is that it ended with both of you in tears and him hugging you like he never wanted to let go. You made up and everything that happened before that was forgotten. Mostly.

You spent the rest of your school years studying hard and getting through all of your actual difficult classes so the only non-elective class you were taking senior year was your English class. Which you had with Jungkook, of course. You spent your summers with him and you both made it into varsity soccor. He knew the truth about your love for soccor when he heard you talking to your mom about it.

You still hadn’t had a boyfriend yet in your sophomore year. You were just too busy with school to actually try to get a dude’s attention, and you said your junior year was going to be different. You would meet a guy, get Jungkook’s approval, fall in love, have the ‘break up talk’ when you sign up for college, and most likely do just that, break up. The only key problem is that whenever you were walking in the halls and saw a cute guy Jungkook would always say he was a dick and that he doesn’t know how to treat a woman. You tended not to ask questions.

But now you were standing in front of your full-length body mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles in your outfit and occasionally touching up your make up or hair. Your first day of senior year outfit was simple but was sure to turn heads. You opted for a tight-fitted white crop top that showed your cleavage, skinny ripped jeans that hugged your ass perfectly that also had a rip under your left ass cheek, and your black heeled Timberland’s. Your hair was perfectly curled and your makeup looked flawless. You asked Jungkook to bring one of his black leather jackets for you to wear over everything. Damn you looked good.

Just as you were shaking out any last nervous jitters you heard a honk, indicating that your best friend was here to pick you up. You quickly grabbed your bag, ran down stairs, and grabbed two slices of toast for breakfast. Saying by to your parents you turned the nob of the door handle and ran out towards Jungkook’s car. As you opened the door to his red convertible, he looked at you and his jaw dropped. You missed the way his eyes scanned your figure and he darted out his tongue to wet his lips. He was eating you up in his mind, hoping you didn’t notice.

“Hey Kookie, do you have the jacket I asked for?” You handed him a piece of toast as your put on your seatbelt, shaking him out of his trance as he gave you said jacket.

“Ready for our first day? You’re going to be turning heads in that outfit,” You missed the way his eyes snuck a glance at your cleavage before driving off.

“I know right. I’ve been single all of high school so far and this year I want that to change.” You had a huge smile plastered across your face as you spoke. “I like your outfit by the way, it’s nice.” He was wearing black skinny jeans, black doc martins, a black tee, and a black faux leather jacket. And because of Jungkook’s new found passion of working out his thighs looked incredible.

“Thanks. Are we still going out to lunch so we don’t need to eat cafeteria food?”

“Duh, what else, and chew with your mouth closed you look like a 7-year-old.” You rolled your eyes and Jungkook did not miss the small and simple gesture.  

“Hey! You’re the one who became friends with this 7-year-old.”

“That’s not fair you were an angel sent from heaven, my savior. Now you’re just a jack-ass.

“I know you love me.”

“Jungkook what would you know. At first you thought that 7x7 was 64.”

“Oh my god woman will you just drop that I was in 3rd grade.” You both just laughed at each other’s silly antics from when you were younger until you pulled into the school’s parking lot. The second you stood up and walked over to walk in with your best friend, every one stopped and stared. It felt like one of those dramatic movie scenes where the wind is blowing and everything turns into slow motion while you hear the main characters internal monolog.

“Why is everyone staring at us, is something in my teeth? Did my makeup smudge?” You pulled at the side of his jacket making him lean down so you could whisper in his ear. Just because you were walking in 4-inch heels did not make you as tall as him.

“No dummy. We look like the ultimate power couple right now. The hottest girl and guy in school, of course they’re staring.” You were so busy nodding your head and looking at other people that you didn’t catch the way his eyes fell to the curve of your ass.

You walked into school going to your respectable homerooms, then meeting up in the hall to go to your shared English class. You noticed that the popular girls kept trying to befriend you. You knew it was because you were now a threat and they did not want you to be prom queen. Last year you weren’t but guess who was, Emily. You still didn’t like each other. You don’t know why you didn’t get along but it’s not like you wanted to be her friend or something.

You and Jungkook sat down next to each other talking about how weird the day had been. People were still staring but who could blame them, you both had huge summer glow ups.

When you looked up at the clock hanging above the door, you notice a boy you’ve never seen before. He was incredibly attractive and had a beautiful symmetric face. You felt like you were drooling while you stared at him. Then he looked over at you and smiled. How the hell does a man’s smile look like that. You finally met the man that would actually rival Jungkook’s own good looks.

“Hey can I sit here?” You jumped when he asked the question, not expecting his voice to also sound hot.

“Yeah, Y/N by the way.” You held out your hand for him to take, but instead of shaking it he placed an opened mouth kissed on your knuckles. Wow he was hot. It made your thighs clench. Jungkook just rolled his eyes.

“Taehyung, it’s nice to meet you Y/N.” You were so entranced by this new boy’s handsome good looks you didn’t see the terrifying daggers Jungkook was sending his way. He read him like a book. He would lead a girl on, take her innocence, and then leave her out to dry.

Jungkook didn’t just guess this either, he had Taehyung’s snapchat and snapped him one summer after he saw him at a party. Taehyung had told Jungkook his tactics, and Jungkook even went to his house where he witnessed him use those very tactics.

“There’s a party at my house Saturday night around 10 pm, if you give me your number, I can text you the details and you can come.” You turned to Jungkook giving him hopeful eyes until he sighed and nodded. After all you don’t go to a party without your best friend.

“As long as Jungkook, my best friend since 1st grade might I add, can come with.” You weren’t going without him and that was that. Taehyung agreed without hesitation and you gave him your number. You quickly regretted it though because once he opened his mouth you lost interest extremely quickly.

All he could seem to talk about was all of the girls he’s hooked up with and how he could get any girl he wanted. You knew what he was trying to get at and became bored very fast. You were actually extremely grateful when the class started.

You and Jungkook passed notes the entire time, all about the egotistical boy next to you. And even though you didn’t like him, you would go to his party because you wanted to actually live a little your senior year. But sadly, one potential future boyfriend was out the door and you were back at square one.

The rest of the week passed by fast and because you had mostly easy elective classes you had no homework over the weekend for the first time in years. Which meant you had all sorts of time to party. You texted Jungkook to pick you up at around 9 so you would have time to get ready but still be at the party in time.

****

You woke up around noon on Saturday from your alarm. You didn't wake up because you wanted to but because you didn’t want to ruin the sleep schedule you didn’t even have. Why did you wake up again? Anyways once you woke up from you slumber you texted Jungkook to clear up some last-minute details.

 Y/N

are you up yet? I just woke up. why dont I wake up like disney princesses?? I look like a monster :(

Kookie

Disney princesses are pretty thats why you don’t look like them in the morning or ever for that matter

Y/N

stfu your no prince charming either

Kookie

Really? Then why would almost every girl in our school blow me???

Y/N

If thats the case then why don’t you get some so you can stop complaining to me about how horny you always are??

Kookie

Because I have my right eye some one

Y/N

WHO?!?! and why havent I heard about this until now?? and why just your right eye??

Kookie

Because not EVERYTHING is your business smartypants and dont talk about my left eye

Y/N

whatever I will find out about this mystery girl though… MARK MY WORDS!! YOULL BE JUNGSHOOK

Kookie

Whatever you say smartypants whyd you text me anyways?

Y/N

Right! your still picking me up, RIGHT?!

Kookie

Its you’re, but yes I'm still picking you up

Y/N

Good, I will be ready in 3-4 hours :)

Kookie

You do know the party is at like 10 right

Y/N

THEN JUST PICK ME UP AT 10 GOD DAMNIT

Kookie

Not how you spell dammit but alright

Y/N

Stfu english nerd and good bye until 10

 With that your conversation with Jungkook ended and you started to binge watch Haikyu!! until around 6. Then you rolled out of bed and started getting ready. You got into the shower, shaving everything. You didn’t know what was going to happen tonight so you figured you would be extra prepared. You even used your exfoliator, if you anyone got to touch you, they would be lucky.

Then you did your hair. You curled it perfectly and then put it in a high pony tail. Perfect party hair in your opinion. Then you did your makeup making sure to keep it simple yet amazing. You opted for a winged liner, perfectly done brows, and dark red lipstick. Lastly was your outfit. Your room was a complete mess after you threw half of your closet onto the floor but your pretty sure you found a great outfit.

You put on your matching set of black lacy lingerie that made your ass look good and your boobs even better. You than grabbed a different white crop top with a dangerously low cut making your black lace peak out from the sides and small booty shorts that barely covered your ass. Then you grabbed the same leather jacket you wore on your first day of school and put on a pair of sneakers. You went to that party with Jungkook once so you knew how crazy and disgusting the ground could be.

By the time you were completely done it was already 8:47. You didn’t think it would take quite that long to get ready but at the same time you did. You were touching up your makeup when Jungkook texted you he was waiting. You didn’t tell your parents about the fact that you were going to a party and they knew that if they saw you dressed the way you were, they would flip. So like any other teen, you made plans to sneak out.

The only person you to actually worry about catching you was your dad because you knew if your mom caught you, she would laugh at you and tell you to have fun. Your dad on the other hand not so much.

Jungkook parked a block down from your house and turned off his car headlights so he wouldn’t be as noticeable. You opened your window as quietly was possible and began to scale your wall. Thankful that your bedroom window was the one closest to the gutter and that you chose sneakers as your shoes. Once you hit the ground safely, you bolted for Jungkook’s car and got in as fast as you could.

“Hey cutie,” Jungkook said wiggling his eyebrows. Luckily for him, his car lights were off so you didn’t catch him gaping at your breasts.

“Sup, you ready to party?” You asked as he turned on the car and started to drive where the GPS told him.

“Yes, now remember no sleeping with some random dude and no drugs”

“Same to you mister”

“Ok so if you want to stay out late text your mom and ask if you can spend the night at my house because my parents are out of town and Jin is going to this food thing with his friends for like three days.” Jungkook said as he merged into traffic.

“Good idea,” You pulled out your phone and texted your mom knowing she would understand much better than your father. “She said that’s fine”.

“Good so if you get hung over you don’t need to try and explain it to your mom,” Damn was Jungkook always this smart, and did he always look this good.

After driving the rest of the way, you pulled into Taehyung’s house and you were awestruck. It was huge and surrounded by hedges. You couldn’t see another house within a mile which was good because that means the cops won’t be called because of noise complaints.

You stepped out of Jungkook’s car and walked into Taehyung’s house immediately being greeted with the smell of alcohol and weed. You quickly got separated from Jungkook and made your way to the kitchen to fill a red solo cup half full with some beer you found and apple juice. You slammed it down, wincing as it made its way down your throat. It wasn’t the best tasting but it was better than the beer by itself.

Once you were done making yourself the same drink again, you made your way outside and found a huge pool with a jacuzzi right by it. You scanned the area, seeing a couple making out in the pool and three boys you didn’t quite recognize playing around in the pool. As you continued looking around taking another sip of your drink you noticed something strange. Standing next to the pool was Jungkook and Emily.

She was twirling her hair in her fingers and giggling while Jungkook looked her up and down smirking the entire time.

You know you’ve been telling Jungkook to get a girlfriend for years now, but you thought he knew you were just joking. For some odd reason you were upset. You didn’t know why at first. Maybe because you didn’t like Emily, maybe because you didn’t want Emily to steal him away from you. You were Jealous. You hated when it hit you like a pile of bricks. But you definitely  intended on doing something about it.

You quickly downed the rest of your drink in your red solo cup hoping it would give you more courage, and made your way over to them.

“Hey Jungkook I need to talk to y-,” You were walking towards him and before you knew it you were falling into the pool. Your first thought was that you tripped but when you resurfaced from the water you saw Emily looking at you with a sly grin. All you could do was glare.

“Oops,” Emily snickered as she grabbed out her phone and took several pictures of you. Great now your hot ass makeup and hair was completely ruined. Shit you’re wearing a WHITE shirt and BLACK bra that are now wet. You looked down to confirm it and sure enough your shirt was more than see-through. AND Jungkook’s leather jacket was ruined. At least you wore sneakers.

“What the fuck Emily,” You were startled from your stare down with the girl when you heard Jungkook’s low voice. It was loud and honestly kind of turned you on. Wait you shouldn’t be thinking about your best friend like that. You shook the thought out of your head and looked up at Jungkook. His fists were balled up at his sides and his jaw was clenched. He looked fine as hell.

As you slowly made your way to the side of the pool, he took off his leather jacket and knelt down. Once you got to the side he reached down with both arms, inserted his hands under your armpits, and hoisted you out of the water. He then helped you take off his ruined leather jacket and threw it at Emily. “Happy now?” He then took his perfectly fine leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders instructing you to hold it closed. “Come on let’s go get you cleaned up.” He bent down and whispered it into your ear causing shivers to go down your spin. You could only nod in response.

As he led you towards the doors of the house, he yanked his jacket from Emily’s hand and gave her one of the scariest looks you’ve ever seen. All you did was smirk and stick your tongue out at her like a 5-year-old. You were very satisfied.

He led you through the crowd of people dancing and grinding on each other like they weren’t in a public setting. He then led you to what you assumed was going to be a bathroom but ended up being a bedroom. You couldn’t help but wonder how he knew his way around so well.

When you entered the room, you realized it was huge with a bathroom connected to it. “Why did you take me here instead of a normal bathroom?” You asked.

“Because most likely they are occupied by other people and I don’t really want to walk in on some other couple having sex. Especially when I'm with you.” What was that supposed to mean? “And before you ask how I know my way around, I used to be sort of friends with Tae. I only came here once when he tried hooking me up with some random chick and I guessed I just remembered my way around.” He was so honest so easily.

“Did you do anything with the chick?” You felt stupid the moment you asked.

“What?” You don’t know if he didn’t hear you or what but you still asked again.

“Did you do anything with her, the girl he tried hooking you up with?” You felt pathetic.

“I told you have my right eye on someone else.” He said leading you into the bathroom.

“Who is this lucky girl anyways?” You asked sitting on the sink countertop while you took off Jungkook’s jacket.

He paused, “Let’s just say, I played a game of spin the bottle at Jimin’s house before freshman year started. I kissed her. She was the only person I kissed that night. I realized that I had a massive crush on her but she left and felt hella crushed. I stopped playing and couldn’t help but feel like I was losing her forever. But I still spend all of my spare time with her and I couldn’t ask for a better best friend. Deep down I’m afraid that she will never like me back because of the girls I slept with freshman year but I want her to know that I only did that to try and convince myself that it I wasn’t in love with her. After I found out she slept with some random guy one night at a party that I took her to I came to my senses and let myself love her. I still regret the night I took her to that party because I wish I was the one to get to take her innocence away.”

You looked at him, you mouth agape, “oh” You knew he was talking about you.

You watched his eyes dart down to your lips as his tongue poked out lick his. His hands drifted down and grabbed your waist softly, just in case you wanted to stop him. He slowly leaned down, brushing your hair behind your ear and whispering in a deep raspy tone that made your panties wet, “You can stop me at any time”.

Within moments his soft, plush lips were on yours. Your hands made their way up his back and intertwined into his black curly locks, tugging harshly. Jungkook let out a low groan that made your body hot. One of his hands crept up and lightly brushed against your nipple making you gasp into the kiss. Jungkook didn’t waste any time and immediately his tongue was exploring your mouth.

Once you broke the kiss, gasping for air, Jungkook placed his hands underneath your thighs and picked you up, causing goosebumps to emit across your body. He carried you out of the bathroom, throwing you on the bed. You watched as he took off his shirt and crawled over you. You’ve seen him shirtless many times but this time it was different. You happy felt up his chest and you didn’t have to worry about him questioning you because he was kneeling over you, devouring you with his eyes.

Before you knew it, he was trying to take your shirt off. You gladly assisted him, pulling off your bra along with it. Once it was off and you looked up at him, you felt shy. Jungkook was just staring at your chest and wasn’t saying anything.

“Do you need to make it obvious that you don’t like my boobs?” Your hands went up to cover yourself. You were always insecure about them.

“Your right Y/N I don’t like your boobs; I fucking love them,” He quickly moved your hands away and leaned down. His mouth connected with your nipple, his tongue making your back arch into him. You felt yourself growing wetter by the second. His teeth gently grazed your nipple and you let out a loud whimper. You really hoped your great-grandma wasn’t watching you right now.

He left of your nipple with a pop and kissed his way to your other, leaving small hickeys marking his path. He did the same things to this one. You couldn’t wait anymore and moved your hand down to your core. You needed some sort of friction, but Jungkook’s hand stopped you.

“Ungrateful slut. I’m giving you all of this pleasure and you can’t wait. I want you to ride my thigh and maybe if I like what I see I’ll let you finish more than once tonight,” You looked at him in awe. When the fuck did he learn to talk like that. It was hot as hell but still.

He went and sat on the edge of the bed and looked at you. You werent sure what to do, so he pulled you onto his thigh. You froze up right away. You were straddling his thigh too afraid to do anything. He looked you dead in the eyes as his hands went down to your waist, forcing you to move. Relief flooded you. You were so happy that he finally let you have some sort of friction.

Your hands went to rest on his shoulders so it was easier to hold yourself up. You quickly started doing all of the work. Moving yourself at a fast pace on Jungkook’s thigh. You could feel his hard through his pants and it only made you more needy. He continuously clenched his thigh making you come undone even faster.

“Oh my god Jungkook. I think I'm gonna- I'm gonna cu-,” You let out shaky breath feeling that familiar knot build up in your stomach. Right as you were about to snap Jungkook stopped your hips from moving.

“Did you really think I was going to let you cum already? Go lay down.” You obeyed him quickly, watching as he kneeled down at the end of the bed. He grabbed your pants and with one swift motion slid them off, throwing them somewhere else in the room.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re so wet. I can’t wait to taste you. This good little pussy” He ripped your panties off of you, eliciting a loud groan. You were becoming impatient, squirming in front of him. He used his hand to hold your hips in place, while his other went to rub delicate circles on your clit. You watched as his face dove into you. Licking a stripe up your folds, collecting all of your juices.

“Fuck Y/N. You taste so good.” He groaned out, quickly diving back in. His eyes were blown out in hunger. He moved his hand away from your clit and replaced it with his tongue. Sliding one finger in you, moving at a slow pace and curling it, reaching your g-spot. A loud moan escaped you as you started trying to rock your hips against his face. Interlacing your fingers in his locks.

He pulled away to take a breath, “Do you think you can handle to fingers? Gotta prepare my baby for later. Yeah? I'm gonna stretch you out so good. Gonna destroy this pussy.” With that he inserted a second finger into you, reattacking your clit with his tongue. His pace kept intensifying. You could feel the familiar knot in your stomach build.

“Fuck Jungkook. I'm gonna-,” your words turned into a drawn-out moan when he hummed against your clit.

“Cum for me baby.” At that, the knot it your stomach snapped and relief washed over your body. You tried closing your legs but Jungkook held them open.

Once he was done lapping up all of your juices, he moved up and kissed you, hard. You could taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands made their way down to undo Jungkook’s pants. He broke away from the kiss and stood up, pulling his pants and underwear off in one swift motion.

You stared at his member for a second in awe. You knew he was big, but no that big. The tip was an angry red and you could see the veins. You were growing wetter just thinking about the delicious stretch.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said “I'm gonna have to go in raw.”

You smiled up at him, bucking your hips up towards his hard to get some sort of friction. “I'm on birth control.” That was all you needed to say before he slowly started entering you. The stretch being uncomfortable.

“You okay?” He asked worry on his face. You shook your head, “It’s just, new.”

He smiled, “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

After a moment you shook your head, giving him the okay to start moving again. He slowly pulled out all the way before pushing in again, hitting your g-spot as he did. You could feel the veins on his cock, and your legs wrapped around his small waist as your hands wrapped around his neck.

He slowly started to pick up the pace, pulling out all of the way before pushing back in. It wasn’t long before the pain morphed into pleasure. Moans spilling from your lips. The louder you moaned the faster he went.

“Ha-harder, da-daddy,” you didn’t mean to say it, but when you did his head snapped up.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” He starting snapping his hips into yours. You could hear the head board hitting the wall with each thrust but you didn’t mind at all. All you felt was bliss.

“Da-addy I-I'm gonna c-cum.” Your walls started clenching around him.

“Fuck baby, cum. Cum for daddy” With that you did. Your release hit you hard. Your legs shaking as you dug your nails into his back piercing a few layers of his skin. Moaning out his name.

Even after you came, he kept pounding into you, chasing his own high. Beautiful moans escaping his lips as he did. Your moans making him close. His body was coated in a layer of sweat.

“Cum in me daddy. Please. Fill me up.” You choked out as he relentlessly pounded into you.

“Fuck, I'm going to cum.” You tightened around him one last time, feeling as his seed shot into you. You both laid there for a moment. Neither one wanting to leave. You could feel your mixed juicing seeping out of your whole as he began to soften inside you.

He slowly pulled out of you, “You need to go to the bathroom.” He picked you up bridal style from the bed and walked you over to the bathroom. Setting you down on the toilet so you could pee. When you were done, he picked you up and set you on the counter, taking a warm rag and cleaning you off making you sigh at the pleasant feeling. He carried you back to the bed and laid you down, getting into his boxers.

He laid down next to you and covered you both with the blanket, before wrapping his arm around tightly around your waist. His chin on your head as he cuddled you. It wasn’t long before you both drifted off to sleep

****

When you woke up and saw your best friend next to you, sleeping peacefully, you were relieved. Relieved that it wasn’t a dream and relieved that he didn’t up and leave in the middle of the night to leave because he regretted it. You leaned over and draped your arm over his torso and snuggled up to him, resting you head on his arm. He groaned, making you halt your actions.

“Good morning beautiful.” He said with a smile, kissing you on the top of your head.

You smiled happy it was him you woke up next to, “Morning.”

****

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. :) Send any ideas you have for anything. P.S The gif wouldn’t load :( so sorry about that. 

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[eliemo]

Little Talks

Summary: As Logan starts spending more time with the Duke in an effort to keep him under control, Remus has to come to terms with the fact that the way he treated Logan may have caused lasting damage after all.

TWs: RSD, violent thoughts, strong language, blood mention (it's Remus, what did you expect)

Pairings: Developing friendship. Can be seen as platonic or romantic Intrulogical

Notes: Thank you to @cheshirevalentine for helping me create and edit this. They're amazing and I love them dearly. Their AO3 is here!

Having Logan in his room was… weird.

Remus had known it was going to be happening. Logan had made the offer to stop by Remus’s room and let the Duke bounce his ideas off of someone. He’d let Remus ramble, listen to the flood of intrusive thoughts and gory, outrageous ideas, all so that Thomas wouldn’t have to.

Remus had cheerfully referred to Logic as his “test subject” the first time he’d come in, laughing outright at the way Logan’s face had screwed up in indignation.

He didn’t really plan on actually doing anything to Logan, despite the incredibly dangerous position the light side had put himself into. He mostly just talked, reciting each and every thought that came to his head in detail, watching to see if he could get an entertaining reaction out of the ever-stoic Logan Sanders.

It didn’t really work. Logan was stupidly boring with his stuffy clothes and perfect schedule and condescending eyebrow raises. He didn’t say much the first few times he stopped by, their “talks” only lasting ten-to-fifteen minutes at most, but after a week he seemed to warm up to the idea of talking to Remus a little.

He’d ask questions- ask where Remus had gotten an idea, or ask him to expand on a particularly disturbing thought- and while Remus didn’t always have an answer, it was nice to not be completely shoved aside and ignored for once. Besides, Remus always thought of the best answers to those sorts of things on the spot. He liked the challenge of having to think on his feet.

It was still weird, though. But Logan kept showing up, day after day, and Remus could almost pretend he wasn’t the only one enjoying their talks.

He knew that Logan didn’t want to be here, of course. Their meetings were on his calendar, so it was obviously an obligation. He was doing it so Thomas could get some sleep, and Remus could be a little less of a burden. Of course.

Remus had only only expected it to last a few days, if he was honest. A week at most. He knew he was a lot to deal with, especially alone, and he knew it would only be a matter of time until Logan decided it was all too much and forgot all about their little “arrangement”.

But Logan came back the next week, and the week after that, and soon fifteen minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and some days he even stayed almost a whole hour.

Remus found he actually felt a little less agitated after Logan left, his head just a tiny bit more quiet. Tormenting Thomas was the closest thing he’d ever had to talking things out, and it was a little discouraging when the reactions were either horrified screams, insults, or pretending he didn’t exist.

Logan actually listened. He listened and engaged.

Remus loved Janus. And Deceit did what he could, but he didn’t have the same tolerance as Logan did for some of the gross things Remus came up with.

Maybe Logic would be open to dissecting something with him sometime…?

-

He should have known it wouldn’t last. Nobody stuck around Remus very long. He always did something to fuck it up.

He really should have known the way he’d treated Logan when he’d first made his appearance would be a problem. Logic separated himself from the Imagination, the side grounded deeply in reality, but a lack of lasting damage didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

Remus had still hurt Logan to prove a point. And then had promptly moved on and forgotten about it until the next time it was brought up. Sometimes object permanence- or lack thereof- was a pain in the ass.

Remus had been ranting as usual, pacing around his room while Logan watched from the chair. He honestly couldn’t even remember what he was talking about, his mouth moving without much thought as it tended to do.

Whatever it was, he’d gotten worked up and excited, pacing the room, waving and flapping his arms as he talked, smile bright and mischievous and he whirled back to face Logan and-

And Logan flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands clutched the arm of his chair, shoulders hunched protectively.

It only lasted a second, Logan quickly pulling himself together and compulsively smoothing his tie once again. He seemed to do that when he was trying to pretend he was collected, Remus had noticed. His shoulders uncurled as he leaned forward again, but he wouldn’t quite look Remus in the eyes.

“Continue,” Logan said, when he realized Remus had stopped talking. “You were rambling about...something objectively disgusting.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Remus said, crossing his arms and ignoring the stupid, pointless hurt that blossomed in his chest when Logan couldn’t even recall what Remus had been saying. “I saw that.”

Logan blinked, staring at the Duke blankly. “Saw what?”

“You flinched.”

Logan scoffed, adjusting his glasses to avoid meeting Remus’s eyes. Again. “I did no such thing.”

“No, you did. I saw it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said, jumping right back into that emotionless facade he was so obsessed with. “Are you going to continue?”

Remus couldn’t even remember what he’d been talking about, his head flooded with images of Logan flinching away, eyes wide in terror, scrambling to get away.

Logan with a throwing star embedded in his forehead, with his mouth full of blood, crimson dripping down his forehead and chin, seeping into his pristine clothes and staining his tie. The thoughts seemed to dip into that spiral they always went down, swirling down the metaphorical drain pipe into his metaphorical pit-of-sewage excuse for a brain.

“No,” Remus said, shaking the thoughts away for the moment. Like stirring the cesspool a little so all the muck settled to the bottom. Metaphorically. “I’m good.”

Logan sighed, and Remus stepped away as the logical side stood up from his chair. “Then we’re done for the day.”

“Bye then.”

If there was one thing Remus was good at, it was pretending not to be bothered by the little things, by the way everyone perceived him. He was a terror and a burden, and he enjoyed it. It was funny! He didn’t care if he was liked, intrusive thoughts were never liked.

Remus flopped down on his bed, watching Logan’s back as he left. He was moving quickly, almost panicked, slipping out the door and closing it shut behind him.

Remus didn’t care if the stupid light sides liked him. He never had. But Logan… Logan was scared. Of him.

Scaring people was never the goal. Making Logan flinch like Remus was going to hurt him was never the goal.

Logan would deny it to his grave, of course. He was stupidly stubborn like that, somehow more stubborn than even Remus at times.

He’d insist that Logic had never felt a revolting feeling like fear in his life. He had no feelings on the matter, and Remus couldn’t frighten him because Logan had no feelings at all. Not enjoyment, not dislike, and not fear. Remus was another obligation on his schedule. Something to attend to. Nothing more.

And while Remus knew all of that was true… he also knew Logan was full of shit. He had feelings. His feelings might even be stronger than Patton’s or Roman’s. (Though it was doubtful. Weepy bitches they were- far too emotional for Remus’s tastes.)

And he was afraid of Remus. He’d made that perfectly clear today.

He… didn’t know how to fix that. His job wasn’t to fix problems. He made the problems. It’s better to start now than to never start at all, he supposed.

Well, obviously he had to start by finding a new coping mechanism. Logan was helpful, and possibly the healthiest outlet Remus had ever had, but he wouldn’t force someone who was terrified of him to come sit in his room and listen to him talk about guts and gore for an hour. He would have to find something to do in place of their talks.

A part of him doubted Logan would even come back again. Remus had caught him flinching, and with Remus’s reputation he wouldn’t be surprised if Logan assumed he would use the fear to his advantage.

And yeah, maybe under different circumstances he would have. Scaring people was fun but… not like this.

But that was fine, he could readjust to being alone. He’d done it before. He could lock himself in the Imagination, annoy Janus until he finally snapped and drove him away, maybe even pay Thomas another visit if he really got desperate.

He wasn’t disappointed. He’d gone his whole life without Logan’s company, he had no reason to miss it. It wasn’t fair to miss something he had barely begun to get used to. Logan was annoying and boring and stuck up, and Remus didn’t know why he enjoyed his company in the first place.

Not that he enjoyed it. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

He spent all night feeding himself those repeating lies, preparing to entertain himself all on his own tomorrow, so he was almost more annoyed than surprised when Logan walked right into his room the next day, same time as always.

Remus sat up in bed, watching in disbelief as Logan made his way to the chair and set his notebook on the table, settling in like nothing had changed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Logan looked up at him, hands folded neatly in his lap. “I said I would make an effort to see you everyday. I put it in my schedule. If I’m not going to be able to make it, I will inform you the day before.”

“Oh,” Remus said, not bothering to move from the bed. “Well, that’s boring and predictable.”

“I prefer to have a schedule rather than do things on a whim. And I’m here now.”

“Yes,” Remus said, shifting to stare blankly at the wall beside Logan’s head. He bet he could spit that far if he really tried. “You are.”

There was a beat of silence that didn’t often exist in Remus’s room. Usually he would start talking right away about whatever late night thoughts he’d been plagued with, chatting on excitedly until Logan cut in to add something dumb and nerdy.

Remus didn’t plan on breaking the silence this time, choosing to sit and quietly dwell on his thoughts on his own, smirking at the utterly baffled look on Logan’s face.

Logan cleared his throat, frowning slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Lot’s of things!”

“Are you going to talk about them?” Logan asked. “That is why I’m here.”

“Nah.” He hated this, hated the way Logan was pretending to care, like he didn’t want to get up right now and run as far away from Remus as possible. Just like everyone else. “Intrusive thoughts aren’t always words, Nerdy Wolverine.”

He saw Logan shift uncomfortably, eyes darting briefly to the door, and Remus realized that might not have been the best way to phrase things.

“Ah,” Logan said, sitting back like he wasn’t terrified. “You can always show me instead. That is what I’m here for.”

“I’m good,” Remus said, doing his best to sound uncaring. “It’s gross.”

“Yes, I’m aware it probably is.” Another beat of silence and Logan sighed, standing from his chair. “Remus. The point of me being here is to keep Thomas’s intrusive thoughts under control. We’ve discussed this.”

And Remus knew Logan didn’t actually enjoy Remus’s company, he’d known that from the beginning, but it still hurt to hear. It hurt something fierce, a deep, sharp slash in his chest that he would swear he could feel, that he was just something to “keep under control”.

He pushed the feeling down, flashing Logan a toothy grin that he knew looked ridiculously fake. “Okay.”

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Remus wondered if he could frustrate Logic into storming out. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You do,” Logan argued, like he had any idea. “Surely talking to someone is better than being alone with your thoughts,”

Remus scowled, shoving himself off the bed and stalking past Logan, moving towards one of the various piles of rubble and bones scattered around his room. He bet Logan hated how cluttered it was in here.

“At least my thoughts don’t pretend to care about me.”

Remus kicked idly at something that looked a bit like a spine, staring blankly at the floor as he let his words settle.

“What?” Logan sounded genuinely confused for the first time. “What does that mean?”

“Hm?” Remus glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “What did I say?”

Logan stepped forward, shoes clicking against the floor, echoing against the now silent room. “I do not understand why you’re suddenly being difficult.”

“Suddenly?”

“Yes, suddenly,” Logan said, and Remus turned away again with an eye roll. “We had an arrangement.”

“Did we?”

“Yes.” Logan touched his arm, and Remus yanked away so fast he thought he might have pulled something. “This is beneficial for everyone.”

“Right,” Remus scoffed. “For everyone.”

Logan actually had the audacity to look taken aback, brow drawing in further confusion. “Yes? You have an outlet, and Thomas gets a break.”

“I don’t need it. I can bash skulls in the Imagination.”

“Which is significantly more unhealthy.”

Remus shrugged, kicking another bone until it slammed into the wall. “It’s easy and fun.”

“We were doing fine,” Logan said, trying to move around him so Remus would meet his gaze. “I thought coming in to talk to you was helping.”

“You don’t care,” Remus snapped. “And you don’t want to listen.”

“I want to,” Logan said. “That is why I’m here.”

“Right.”

“I am incredibly busy, Remus,” Logan said, and Remus felt like he was being lectured. “I would not be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“Then get gone!” Remus spun around gesturing to the door. “Just fucking leave already!”

“I think I’d prefer to stay.”

“You said you’re busy,” Remus snarled. “If you’re so busy you don’t need to carve out time for me.”

“I chose to.”

“Thomas can live with intrusive thoughts,” Remus said. “He’ll be fine. Patton and Virgil will ease up eventually. You should be focused on them.”

“I have been.” Logan was still staring at him, and at this point Remus was considering storming out of his own room. “I have time for you.”

“I thought you were busy,” Remus argued, back to being difficult on purpose. “Which is it? Are you busy or do you have time?”

Logan sighed, and now Remus felt like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’ve made time. I’m making time for you.”

“Right.”

“I don’t understand what changed,” Logan said. “I thought you were getting some enjoyment out of our talks.”

“Yeah, I was,” Remus admitted because despite everything, that was the truth. “But you aren’t.”

It took a moment for Logan to respond, no less confused than before. “I am perfectly content.”

“Yeah?” Remus finally turned around to face him, looking the logical side right in the eyes. “Then why did you flinch?”

Logan blinked, shoulders tense, a mix of panic and understanding flickering in his eyes. “I...did not flinch.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie.”

It was Logan’s turn to scoff, like Remus was being ridiculous and dramatic. And he often was, but he was serious this time. “I don’t see how one involuntary movement has become such a big deal.”

Remus didn’t look away, even as Logan’s eyes began to wander. “You’re afraid of me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. “I do not feel fear.”

“Yes you do.” Remus stepped closer, taking in the way Logan’s jaw clenched. “You have feelings.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“You’re figuratively jumping to conclusions,” Logan said, quickly changing the subject. “I am perfectly content spending time with you.”

“I’m not jumping to anything,” Remus said. “You’re scared.”

Logan rolled his eyes, hands lifting to brush over his tie before crossing his arms across his chest. Compulsory comfort action.

“You think you saw me flinch once and now you believe that I’m afraid of you, when there is no logical reason to be. You cannot cause any lasting damage to me, so I—”

Remus lifted a hand without warning, fast and sudden like he was going to strike Logan, keeping it frozen in the air as he took in the reaction before him.

Logan flinched back as soon as Remus moved, his own hands moving to protect his face, eyes glued to Remus’s raised arm, widening in genuine fear and shock.

Remus sighed, slowly lowering his hand as he watched Logan struggle to compose himself. “You’re afraid of me.”

“No,” Logan still had the audacity to argue. “I am not.”

“You flinched.”

Logan fixed his tie again. Remus knew it was some kind of nervous tic. “You startled me.”

“I lifted my hand.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “Unexpectedly.”

Remus sighed and stepped back out of Logan’s space, too tired to keep arguing.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He winced at his own words, images flashing in his mind of Logan stumbling backwards with wide eyes, of Logan covered in blood, of Patton screaming. “Not again, anyway.”

“Well,” Logan said, carefully clearing his throat. “You can understand that I wasn’t exactly…sure. That does not mean I dislike you. Or that I’m frightened of you.”

Remus found himself looking at his shoes, trying and failing to get images of Logan hurt, Logan dying, out of his stupid cesspool sewage pipe head.

He wondered if this was what guilt felt like. If it was, maybe he should start being nicer to Patton. This sucked dick and balls.

“I won’t.”

“And I appreciate that,” Logan said. “But you could not cause any lasting damage to me anyway.”

“So? It still, like… hurt you. I’m not gonna do it again.”

“Well then, I have no reason to be afraid.” Logan straightened, smiling at Remus like that had just solved everything. “Which I wasn’t in the first place.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed. “You flinched.”

“Yes I did,” Logan admitted. “I apologize for that. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

Remus didn’t move, staring at Logan in disbelief, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. He hoped the exhaustion on his face resembled a glare at least a little bit.

“I don’t… understand,” Logan said, and Remus couldn't even stay mad at him. “Was an apology not what you wanted?”

“No, Logan. I don’t want anything.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brow furrowed, and Remus could practically see the gears turning as he looked Remus over. “You’re still upset.”

“Why’re you still here?” Remus finally demanded, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “If you’re afraid of me why don’t you just leave?”

Logan blinked, seemingly unfazed. “Because I enjoy talking to you.”

Logic may as well have just punched him right in the chest, the air leaving his lungs in a rush as he took a step back, choking out a shocked laugh. “That can’t be it.”

Logan frowned. “Why not?”

“Nobody enjoys talking to me.”

“Well,” Logan said slowly, and it was like Remus could see some of his walls coming down. “If it helps, no one particularly enjoys talking to me, either.”

Remus wasn’t entirely convinced that was true, but he figured he wasn’t the right one to give Logan a talk on self esteem.

“I like talking to you,” he said instead. “I just think you’re kinda stuffy.”

“I enjoy talking to you as well,” Logan said, and it really did sound like he meant it. “I would just prefer if your more violent thoughts were not physically manifested.”

“Oh.” Remus swallowed, absolutely refusing to show Logic how much this meant to him. He wasn’t going to cry. “Yeah, I can...do that. Sure.”

“Then I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” Logan said, right back to the stiff, professional persona Remus was learning to see right through. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remus nodded, and realized he was actually starting to believe him this time. “Yeah. Ok. That’s good.”

Logan stepped back out of Remus’s space and Remus quickly did the same, the two of them standing on opposite sides of the Duke’s now painfully silent bedroom.

“I can leave,” Logan said after a moment. “If you’d still like me to.”

Remus hesitated, fighting to keep acting like he didn’t care. “Do you want to leave?”

“Not particularly,” Logan said, and Remus hadn’t expected to feel so relieved. “But it’s your room. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” Remus moved back to his bed, dropping himself unceremoniously onto his back. “Don’t leave if you don’t want to. I don’t care.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

Logan pulled up his usual chair, leaning back comfortably as he picked his notebook back up and began flipping idly through it. He looked content and relaxed when Remus risked a glance in his direction, and he smiled to himself.

“You can talk if you like,” Logan said, glancing up from the pages. “I’m listening.”

Remus did eventually start talking, dumping his latest ideas on Logan like he usually did, diving into last night’s fantasy of setting an office building on fire in the middle of the week.

Logan had added on, and Remus had listened intently as he’d recited statistics and calculations, the likelihood of survival, and the two of them eventually decided it would be a waste of time, the fire likely to be put out before even causing any real damage to the building.

That was a talent Logan had. He could get Remus to let go of a thought that typically wouldn’t have left him alone for weeks.

It wasn’t until Logan had stood up to leave for dinner, promising he’d be back at the same time tomorrow, that Remus realized Logan had stayed twice as long as he usually did.

Huh.

Weird.

[kaisa-ryo]

Attention deficit (pt. 1)

jujutsu kaisen

Characters: Itadori Yuji, Satoru Gojo, Megumi Fushiguro, Inumaki Toge, Sukuna Ryōmen, Nanami Kento, Suguru Geto

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

Itadori Yuji

Itadori in this situation acts, oddly enough, completely primitive. The less attention he sees from you, the more he tries to get him back. In other circumstances, this might even seem exaggerated, but here and now this is the most critical moment. What does he do? Yes, everything in a row: drops the book, turns its pages, rummages in the bag, humming softly to himself, and so on ... And all this continues until it comes to stroking the hips and lightly squeezing one palm, while the other rewrites the abstract ...

- I miss the old y/n. - he gives out with sadness in his eyes.

At this moment, the game of interest begins: you feel how simultaneously there is a feeling of spontaneous and purposeful manipulation, how you are gently and imperceptibly pushed towards the long-awaited goal.

In such a situation, one could easily succumb, but you, resisting this, answer:

- Yuji, I'm very busy right now.

It would seem that a strong guy fights curses, trains with the strongest shamans, but with ordinary words it is so easy to break.

It's hard for you to realize that right now he is depressed because of you. It's unusual to see a sad Yuji almost always smiling and making others do the same. Especially you.

And so you compromise, intertwining your fingers, frowning slightly and pretending to listen to something inside yourself ... After that, Yuji remains in this position for a long time, as if afraid to frighten you off, because now such closeness between you is too valuable to miss out.

Satoru Gojo

It turns out that sometimes even acting like a fool doesn't help you pay attention to Gojo. First, the way you constantly focus on the same thing, so that the words in your speech get confused, takes on a comic character, and he comes to the idea that, for no reason, for no reason, you decided that work is more important to you than himself. Then you stop paying attention to him altogether. You no longer look at him from under your brows, do not frown at the idiotic jokes with which he is trying to distract you, as it was yesterday. Satoru notices that you are much smaller. He is puzzled and even confused. Finally, it occurs to him that you just have nothing to do, and comes up with the craziest idea to entertain you.

- What are you doing? - a voice of a man sounded nearby, who had been watching you with interest for some time.

There was no answer. However, it is not surprising.

- Okay, okay, you don't have to answer... - He looked away.

This was his usual technique. After asking several meaningless questions, he suddenly fell silent, as if giving you the opportunity to think over the answer properly, and he himself imperceptibly removed, leaving you in complete confusion. But this time, due to the circumstances, the technique had to be slightly changed.

In the next moment, he was already pressing you to him and, taking advantage of this, with his other hand began to explore the curves of your body. The reaction was as if you were doused with boiling water or doused with cold water.

- What are you doing? - You asked in a trembling voice.

- Checking to see if you got fat after we lost sex. - still clinging to you, he answered. You were taken aback and began to push him away from you.

- I have not grown fat, let me go! You barked, feeling his arms tighten. - Let go! Fool! Let go!

Hands rested on your back, and he began to rock you slowly, stretching the moment when you finally stop resisting.

- It's okay, y/n. You just need to calm down. - he whispered, not hearing your words.

There is a mess in my head, the goal of your resistance has fled somewhere, and you start desperately hugging the man while he grins at the fact that he managed to do what he wanted.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi is not one of those who will behave like a child, attracting attention to herself when you do not even know the reason for her loss. He will speak to you as soon as he notices it.

- Do you want to talk about it?

You rub your eyes with fatigue, but you shouldn't ignore Fushiguro's question, because it concerns the two of you. No matter how serious his intentions are, he will always be there to remind you that you can talk to him about what worries you.

- I... will hardly give any good advice, but I will try to make it easier for you after the conversation. Megumi continues after a minute of your silence.

Even such a seemingly small detail as being able to talk to someone else significantly reduces stress and other not-so-good emotions. And the guy knows it.

- You can always count on my help. - already with a drop of confidence he says, and it's like the touch of a soft, pleasant hand on your shoulder. Of course, he does this primarily because he is worried, but this is only a secret cover for the fact that he is upset that you turned away from him, without noticing the real reason.

"Fushiguro, if I do this, I don't know... I... will feel like this..." The words elude you. It’s hard to even think about what you’ll say next.

The guy spreads his arms to give you room to hug and apologize, but you just put your head on his shoulder. You don't want to talk about anything else. The chest against which your head is pressed turns into a pillow. And then a quiet voice is heard:

- I'm not mad at you. You can stay here as long as you like.

But here you won't need anything as long as Fushiguro is around.

Inumaki Toge

Not surprisingly, the first thought that comes to him is "it's all because of the damned speech."

Does he talk to you too little? Maybe he is too quiet and invisible for you? Perhaps you are afraid that someday he will take control of you? From such questions echoing in my head, my jaws come together and a lump appears in my throat. But the worst thing is that Toge begins to doubt his right to meet with you, because he cannot even talk to you with dignity, as a person to a person. Even your sweet persistence, which sometimes breaks through the boundaries of ordinary attempts to turn the conversation back on track, does not help. As a result, when it comes to your attention deficit, he begins to think that all this time you did not notice him, as if he was one of those whom you forgot on the first day.

- Okaka? - the young man has been trying to attract your attention with his eyes for a long time, but it seems that even words cannot help.

- Sorry, Toge. I'm not in the mood today...

The guy was actually a perfectionist and would rather have your smile shine every day. I wish he could turn back time right now, scroll to the moment when something went wrong and fix it at any cost.

Inumaki tucked a lock of your hair behind his ear to see your face behind it. He knew you had flawless skin and plump, sensual lips. He would admire your face for hours.

The next second, the blond rested his head on your lap, looking into your eyes. You liked such cute things from him. They weren't vulgar or inappropriate. They were what she needed.

You smile faintly and stroke the hair on the back of his head, touching his cheek with your fingertips.

Sukuna Ryōmen

This is the case when Sukuna uses passive aggression. Slightly wrong, some small sign of ignorance - his speech turns into direct pressure on your relationship with him. He can really hurt you a lot if you don't appreciate his efforts to make you even a little happier. Most often they are small and insignificant, the kind that anyone would do, but for the King of Curses, this is really something grandiose. And since he has many ways to destroy your relationship, if you think he made a mistake, remember how it hurts him.

- Will you ignore me again? - Sukun asked with imperious anger, the last pieces of despair were dying in his soul. - And where is your mercy? If I have become disgusting to you, why do you continue to need me?

There was nothing to answer. It was not pride that tormented him at all, but an ever-deeper regret that with your equanimity you just caused another outbreak of rage in him. Most of all, the thought that you, perhaps, does not even notice it, and your eyes clouded with pain glide over something that is very dear to him, terrified him.

The dead silence continued, and my chest ached more and more. Then there was a soft groan:

- Y/n, I love you.

Tears ran down your cheeks, but did not brush them away with my hand. You knew it wasn't going to help. Bitter emotions generated by the word "love" are not able to be burned out on the face, like the sun on clay. You can't stop feeling. And all the same, looking at you was as painful as seeing your motionless glazed gaze.

He hugged you from the back as soon as he felt that you were repenting. Like the time you forgave him for calling you your own. He had strong hands - you can be sure. He was very gentle. You felt less pain. Maybe in the future it will be difficult for him to remember this, but now he tightly squeezed you in his arms and was so affectionate that you wanted him to never let you go.

Nanami Kento

He begins to suspect that something is wrong very early. First, morning kisses disappeared somewhere before leaving for work, then sincere conversations at the table, and then completely short meetings with glances. Moreover, the last remnants of intimacy are gone. Nanami began to think that something had happened to you. He always tried to protect you from any problems. And so you found yourself right in front of him, so closed and detached, he could not so easily take away the comfort and peace that he had been creating for so long and skillfully. And first of all, of course, he will lend you a helping hand to make it easier for you as quickly as possible.

A perplexed look will appear from under dark eyelashes after a man touches your forehead with his palm. It seems that the whole thing is not about health.

- You don't have a fever. He began.

- I know, thanks.

But Kento was clearly hinting at something.

- So what's up? - then you know what Nanami means. But she said nothing.

- Y/n, I do not want to impose anything on you, I just need to know what is happening to you so that our relationship with you does not suddenly go downhill.

The man took your hand and brought it to his lips. Nanami felt that if he said something now, he would commit tactlessness. And so he was silent, waiting for your answer.

- Sorry... - Tears began to burn my eyes. - I am very, very ashamed. I... it's just hard for me now, but it will pass by itself. I'm sure.

You pressed as tightly as possible to the man, hugged him and buried your face in the chest. He put his hand on your head encouragingly. I already didn't care about the problem as a whole. Now for you there was only what you felt - his soft stroking, the smell of a strong male body, warmth and care, and there was nothing but that.

Suguru Geto

He will take it calmly, without intention. But she won't ignore it. Often he will offer tea or something else, just to get at least one word out of you, in an attempt to bring you into conversation. He will not touch you without asking, because he knows about the value of personal space. And yet, for a while, it can fiddle with spontaneous statements in order to simply take away the soul and break a long silence.

- I see your day is going well... - Geto smiles with restraint. - Lots of news for me?

Guessing that he is once again trying to create a dialogue between you was almost nothing. But you are, of course, silent.

- I see. - Suguru sits down next to you, as close to your side as possible, not giving a damn if you don't like it.

- Maybe I offended you in some way? - he continues. - Or are you just not too open in your thoughts?

- Nothing. It's okay. - you throw.

- But it seems to me that no. - he takes your hand in his, as if trying to make you smile. “I think you have something to tell me, don’t you? He raises his eyebrows, expecting your reaction. Instead of answering, you grimace with a shrug. Suguru repeats the question:

- So what happened? Why don't you want to share your thoughts with me?

- What would you like? You ask. - Would you be happy to know that there is a perfect girl with great manners, beautiful and intelligent, whom you deserve?

To be honest, Suguru did not expect such an answer. You can see that he is a little dumbfounded, but quickly comes to his senses. And then he starts laughing - so sweet and sincere that you start to feel embarrassed and blush with shame.

- And I was already expecting something more terrible. He laughs. - Okay, be it your way. I'm not a particularly sentimental person. I do not know what to say.

- Tell me you feel terribly in love. - grabbing his wrist, you say.

The brunette makes a startled face again. But you do not retreat - you hold him for a few more seconds, forcing him to surrender. - Only from the bottom of my heart ...

- Y/n, I feel terribly in love with you and will never fall in love again next time. So? He asked, grinning.

Wiping away the tears of happiness, you hugged him without words, while he, hugging you with one hand, exhaled with relief.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*