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jaeminlore · 4 years ago

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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.

#Nct fluff #nct fanfiction #Nct angst #Nct scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #destwrites

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honklore · 4 years ago

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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.

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.”

“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.

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

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.

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.

“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.

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

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.

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 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?”

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?”

“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.

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?”

“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.”

“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.

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.”

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.

#karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt fluff #pixiecap//

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s-creations · 4 years ago

Text

The Caring from Others

Gyro has never been good with emotions or understanding people. His younger years not helpful in those categories as he grew up. Good thing life wasn't ready to let him throw in the towel just yet.

Fandom: Ducktales ‘17 Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: Gyro Gearloose/Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, Fenro Warnings/Tags: Other characters are mentioned, How do emotions work? We’re learning today!, A little OOC.

The Father

Gyro doesn’t recall his childhood fondly.

Growing up in a small, back water farming town. A place where advancements, anything ‘new’, was labeled as dangerous. Deemed bad for everyone involved. His parents were less than thrilled when Gyro announced he wanted to become a scientist.

It wasn’t ‘honest work’.

A profession of false tests to make the common folk fearful of everything.

To make them more dependent on the government.

Even if Gyro suggested creating improved tools. Better way to help the farmers in making their jobs easier. Even safer. Every suggestion was just shot down. His parents claimed if their way had worked so well for so long, why change anything?

For 15 year Gyro had to work in secrecy. Knowing if any glimmer of creativity was found, it would be destroyed. Stomped out before it could reach their full potential. Salvation came when, after turning in so many applications, he was accepted into a high level university. Full scholarship and all. Everything was paid for, there was nothing to worry about.

Gyro should have felt some sting when his parents put up no fuss as he left. Happily letting their misfit son go off on his own journey. But Gyro honestly felt nothing but relief as he left that farmhouse behind for good.

While he now had the freedom to create in the open, university had its own issues to contend with. Like being mocked by his peers. Gyro was young and already set up with terrible social skills. It wasn’t better when fellow students deemed it a high priority to ostracize the chicken. The other students weren’t thrilled that someone younger than them had accomplished so much in their early years. The chicken’s ideas being scoffed at when he presented or attempted to make some connection. Gyro was sure he would have dropped out long ago if not for the continuous support and offered safety from his professors.

It was during Gyro’s last year of university that he was introduced to Dr. Akita. Properly introduced anyway. Gyro was well aware of the other long before this meeting. Having studied the scientist’s work extensively. It was almost like a dream come true when Gyro was offered an internship. A way to work with his idol directly.

How quickly it all turned into a nightmare.

2-BO was Gyro’s biggest accomplishment and regret. The chicken labeled as a mad scientist and abandoned by Akita when the chicken’s creation went rogue. Gyro was thrusted into a world he had no idea how to traverse. He was turned away from every opportunity. All knowing his history, fearful of what damage he was still capable of.

Gyro couldn’t blame them for being so concerned. He was honestly fearful of his own inventions at this point.

It was a surprise when Scrooge McDuck of all people reached out to him. Wanting Gyro to present his ideas to the billionaire and his board members. It was a mounting pile of nerves that was continuously being added to as the day drew closer. The chicken was honestly shocked that he didn’t pass out while presenting. Or from the unnerving quiet when Gyro finished. The buzzards looked unimpressed. Which did not help Gyro’s as yellow eyes stared him down.

“Mr. McDuck, this was a complete waste of time,” the buzzard from the middle spoke, “We are not in need of new hires for the production line. Especially not one with such a...dangerous past.”

Gyro swallowed weakly.

“Nonsense. Who ever said about having Dr. Gearloose here to be part of our regular R&D team.” Scrooge commented casually. He stood from his large, cushioned chair. Making his way over to the quietly panicking scientist. “I’ve been in the market for a personal inventor for awhile now.”

“Please do not tell me this is for your wild excursions sir.”

“Bradford, you’re too worried about keeping finances. Personal and monetary gain cannot be achieved at the same time. I have enough monetary value...for the moment. Now is the time for personal gain.”

“If you are so determined to do this. Could you at least get someone less dangerous.”

Scrooge slammed his cane down. Causing all in the room to flinch. “How can we expect growth if we cling to the past. Dr. Gearloose cannot be given redemption with no opportunity. I’ve seen his work. Both the bad and the good. I want him working with me.”

“Then I request a trial period. I would like to see a working, safe invention from the doctor here. If he does that, I won’t bring this up again.”

With a smirk, Scrooge gave a nod before facing Gyro. Who’d been honestly confused through the entire ordeal. Who just argues so freely with their boss?

“What do you say Dr. Gearloose? Think you’re up for the task?”

Steeling himself, Gyro gave a short nod. “Yes. Absolutely.”

He could do this. He knew he could. How many ideas had he sketched out when he was younger? Surely there were a number of inventions he could use to impress the board.

The good news was he was right. He was able to dig up multiple sketchbooks he had filled out from his college days that had yet to be used. Now came the trying task of deciding which invention he was going to use. One that was impressive enough to blow those buzzards away. But he could easily make it within the offered window of time. And that it was safe.

He wished Mr. McDuck would have been more forward with what he was looking for. The chicken would at least have a starting point.

Gyro really thought he had a winner when the month was up. More than a little confident when he entered the boardroom, all eyes on him. Giving his presentation with as much vibrato as he could. It was all going, in his mind, quite well. Even Mr. McDuck looked a little smug for Gyro’s success.

Then the machine was turned on.

It gave a warning whine, Gyro actually leaning in to see what the issue was. Letting out a choking sound as he was pulled back by Scrooge’s cane. All taking cover when the invention exploded. Leaving the pedestal it had been resting on and the wall behind it with dark scorch marks.

Gyro felt absolutely sick. Wide eyes staring at the spot where his achievement once sat. Only looking away when Bradford slammed his hands down.

“Unacceptable! Even a simple request created something so dangerous. I am putting my foot down on this Mr. McDuck.” The buzzard huffed as he stared Gyro down.

Scrooge, on his part, merely seemed unfazed by it all. Taking the time dust himself off. Pulling Gyro up and straightening him out as well before speaking. “Dr. Gearloose. Would you mind waiting for me in the labs. I need to have a quick discussion with the board.”

Gyro merely nodded. His voice stuck in his throat as he made his way to the elevator. Arms and stomach heavy with his failure. He knew he was fired. His one opportunity was gone. Gyro realized this was his best and only chance at getting any sort of job. A scientist who’s inventions caused more damage and cut off by Scrooge McDuck? Gyro would be lucky if he got a job at Radio Hut after all of this.

He collapses into the first chair he could find in the lab. Laying his glasses on a nearby flat surface and rubbing his temples. At this point in his life, Gyro wasn’t as emotionally blocked as he would later become. But he was learning that breakdowns were seen as weaknesses.

By his parents.

By his classmates.

By Dr. Akita.

So while he wanted nothing more than to hide away. Let this moment of emotional sorrow pass naturally and move on. Gyro had been conditioned to hold it in. Because what scientist falls apart?

He let out a slow breath as the elevator announced it’s arrival. Glasses on and standing as Scrooge made a direct line for him. While showing emotions weren’t allowed, Gyro learned that groveling was acceptable. Something Dr. Akita was quick to teach.

“I am sorry,” Gyro said quickly, “It wasn’t my intention for it to explode.”

“I had assumed so.”

“If given another chance-”

“Lad, you’re not fired.”

Gyro swallowed weakly. Stunned by the name and the announcement. “But...I almost killed everyone.”

“That’s a tad extreme. We would have been maimed. But kill? Doubtful.”

“It exploded!”

“I’ve experienced worse.”

“Mr. McDuck, with all due respect, you’re insane.”

Scrooge waved his hand. “No matter. Why don’t you take a seat.”

Doing as asked, Gyro looked up nervously, hands clenched together as he waited.

“As stated before, you’re not fired. Even after your explosive debut. I know Bradford is a stickler for keeping things ‘safe’. It’s one of the reasons I hired him onto the team. But he doesn’t understand that needed balance of risk and reward. I’m aware of your past. Which I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about at this point. We are our own worst critics. But I also know of your successes, your numerous successes.”

“I want to see you succeed. You deserve to see yourself succeed. I want to give you that opportunity. We’ll need to make sure you can give something to Bradford on occasion to keep him placated. But, other than that, you will have full creative freedom. How does that sound?”

Gyro swallowed hard, trying to keep himself stable. No longer fearful. Now extremely happy. However, he kept himself in check to remain professional. “Honestly, it’s too good to be true.”

Scrooge merely laughed. Clapping a hand on Gyro’s shoulder. “Well, get over that starstruck feeling quick lad. You have a lot of work ahead of you. I trust you can manage from here.”

As he watched Scrooge head back towards the elevator, Gyro realized something. “Um, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Your bet, with Bradford, you didn’t technically win.”

“Technically yes.”

“So...shouldn’t I be fired?”

A smirk appeared on the billionaire’s face, eyes seeming to shine. “Bradford needs to use his words better. He said if he wasn’t impressed, he wouldn’t discuss not keeping you. He never out right said I had to fire you. So, unfortunately, we’ll still need to hear his complaints. But he can’t fire you unless he gives me a good reason. Which I doubt he’ll be able to give.”

“I...thank you, Mr. McDuck.” Gyro weakly answered in disbelief.

“Don’t thank me. Just be the scientist I know you can be.”

“I will sir!”

Turning in the elevator to face Gyro, Scrooge gave a nod and smile. “I know lad. I trust you.”

_____________________________

The Brother

Gyro has always been a loner. He worked best this way. He was able to focus and didn’t have to constantly worry if his partner was doing their work properly. Plus, no one had really tried to include him in anything during his younger years. So he learned that working alone was better for him.

He was very much against the idea of having an intern working in his lab. Which Scrooge flat out refused to take Gyro’s refusal. Meaning the chicken couldn’t deny the hired help no matter how loudly he complained. With the unfortunate addition of the possible literal rendition of sunshine named Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera being hired a few weeks later. Which also meant an increased number of ‘visitors’ to this dangerous lab to see the brown duck. Doing nothing to help Gyro’s frantic state of keeping everything safe and making sure nothing became evil.

Scrooge was a common person to see there. After all, he owned the lab and it was attached to his place of work. Why wouldn’t he arrive to check on progress. To be shown what Gyro was working on. Now, however, the billionaire invited himself in to also check on Fenton. To make sure the intern was actually doing scientific research and not just cleaning the floors.

Launchpad had become friends with Fenton after that B.U.D.D.Y incident. The idiotic driver deciding that wasting time discussing some childhood show was perfectly fine. Gyro honestly tried to not become infuriated. But did he have to waste the interns' time! Even if the chicken didn’t want help from the other. It was the principle of the matter.

This also caused the blue nephew (Dew- something, whatever) to join Launchpad in the lab. Two children or beings with childlike personalities running around in the lab. A place filled with dangerous equipment. It was the perfect place to socialize in, Gyro sarcastically muttered to himself. And Scrooge actually encouraged it! Saying social engagement was good for both Fenton and Gyro. As if the chicken wanted to talk to someone who didn’t know what NaCl was.

So even he was surprised when he started to form a connection with Huey Duck. The red cladded nephew first started showing up to visit Fenton originally. The duckling particularly enamored with the scientist/superhero. Both talking for hours about new upgrades they could possibly make to the suit.

“With you permission, of course! D-Dr. Gearloose.” Fenton would assure with a sheepish smile. Which Gyro would respond with a mere rolling of his eyes.

As time went on and Fenton started to leave more and more due to hero calls, Huey started following Gyro around. The duckling deciding he wouldn't want to leave the labs quiet yet. And Huey wanted to pick the head scientist’s brain with his own ideas. At first, Gyro assumed his ‘wonderful’ personality would drive the other away. Huey, however, didn’t seem to care.

“You don’t have any siblings, do you.”

Gyro raised a brow at that. “Uh, no. At least I didn’t when I was actually living at home. At this point in my life, who knows. What’s your point.”

“My point being that your sullen attitude will have no effect on me. I’m the oldest of three. So, I have to deal with younger brothers. Sour attitudes are an old trick.”

“There really is no getting rid of you.”

“Nope.”

Gyro won’t lie, it was aggravating at first. He already had a shadow in the form of Fenton. Now the chicken was settled with another one that liked to constantly talk and didn’t fear him. Gyro only gave proper notice to the duckling when Fenton came to him with an upgrade for the Gizmosuit. One that sounded good.

“I thought you were busy with your toothbrush idea. When did you have time to think of this?”

“Actually, Huey came up with this.” Fenton answered.

“The red triplet?”

The duck smiled softly. “He’s been around here enough times. I think you can refer to him by his name.”

The chicken wasn’t overly fond of this idea. In his mind, the use of a name means Gyro cared enough to remember. And caring meant he wasn’t truly focused on his work. Something Akita was very adamant that Gyro learned.

But look where Gyro was now. Abandoned by his mentor.

Maybe Fenton was onto something. That felt strange to say.

“Very well. Perhaps I’ll have to try it your way.” Gyro was hit with a wave of confusion by the sudden sweeping sensation that went through his stomach. Fenton’s smile seeming to hit differently that day. But the head scientist filed that sensation away under ‘a later problem’.

Gyro should not have felt a sense of accomplishment seeing Huey’s eyes light up upon hearing his name. The chicken should have cut ties when the triplet sheepishly asked if Gyro could review Huey’s science project. And there should have been no sickening, worry feeling entering his veins when Huey arrived to the labs one day with a black eye.

Fenton, being the caring overbearing person he was, instantly panicked. “Huey! What happened to you? Are you alright?”

Gyro scoffed. “Of course he isn’t. He’s injured.”

“Do we have ice packs?”

“Freezer in the break room. I’ll get the first aid.” The chicken gestured for Huey to follow him. The duckling doing so without complaint. “Come on, take a seat. I need to see where else you’ve been hurt.”

Huey gave no response. Which was starting to become worrisome. The duckling was covered with small cuts and bruises. Gyro thankful it wasn’t worse… Because he didn’t want to waste the resources! Of course. What else would he be talking about.

Fenton came rushing back in. An ice pack wrapped in a hand towel was pressed against the black eyes. “Leave that there for a while. Do you need some pain medicine?”

“Already taken care of,” Gyro answered once again, “Now that all of that’s been taken care of. I think we’re owed an explanation.”

“Dr. Gearloose, just give him a moment.”

“I would like a reason for why Huey,” darn it Gyro said the name, “came to us instead to one of his uncle’s or other family members.”

“He can tell us when he’s ready. Give him a chance to relax.”

“And he can when he tells us- me what’s going on right now.”

“Dr. Gearloose-”

“I was able to skip a level in science.” The adult fell quiet hearing Huey’s whispered response.

“What?”

Huey gestured to his discarded bag. To which Fenton grabs it, handing it over. The duckling opened it and pulled out a familiar notebook that had been shoved into Gyro’s face numerous times. One that held Huey’s numerous sketches and ideas. Except it was destroyed. Practically torn to shreds, almost unrecognizable from what the head scientist had seen before.

“I showed my teachers my notebook. They were really impressed and talked to the principal about me skipping a level. It’s so I could enter the science fair that the upper level students can participate in. They said I had a lot of potential. Uncle Donald was happy, I was happy. My brothers teased me, but I know they were happy for me. I was kind of...blinded by my eagerness, I was under the assumption everyone would just be...okay with this.”

“Your classmates…” Gyro meant to have it sound like a statement. It instead sounded like a sickening realization.

But Huey merely nodded before continuing. “They’ve been writing things on my desk. Throwing things at me. I’ve been ignoring it…”

“Have they...hurt you before?” Fenton asked.

“No. I think they were tired that they hadn’t been getting a response from me like they wanted.”

“Have you told your uncle about this?”

“No… He’s already having a hard time finding a job and fixing the boathouse. I was hoping if I just ignored them, they’d leave me alone. ...I think I’m going to just drop back down to my grade level.”

“You are not going to let those punks win,” Gyro was surprised that he didn’t flinch as two sets of eyes snapped to him, “If you just go running back to your previous classes, you let them win. You’ll give them more fuel to think their actions are right. Especially if you haven’t told anyone about this. There will be no repercussions and they’ll continue to be terrible little creatures.”

“What do I do then?” Huey asked.

“You’re going to tell your uncle, your teachers, your principal, everyone you can. You’re going to come back with even better ideas. And This is a fight you can win because you have support. People who care about you...or something mushy like that.”

Huey gave a nod, rubbing his good eye and giving a blinding smile. “Okay...thank you, Dr. Gearloose.”

Gyro didn’t squirm weakly under the adoring look being sent his way. Or feel any sort of warmth blossoming in his chest knowing he’d helped in some way. Or become flustered at the smile aimed at him by Fenton, who’s eyes seemed to shine with happiness.

“I also know a side step that can break a femur. Very useful to know.”

“Dr. Gearloose!”

A few days later, Huey returned to the labs. Bright eyed and eager to show off his idea. No longer supporting injuries or secrets.

Gyro felt another save of fluster when Huey hugged his legs while Fenton laughed softly as he watched.

_____________________________

The Son

Gyro was surprised so much could change in one day. Well...one day-ish. It was more like three. Point being it felt as if all events had transpired in one day.

2-BO, now named Boyd, entered his life once more. The real boy having befriended Huey. Because of course that’s who would meet Gyro’s used-to-be biggest regret. Then he returned to Tokyolk after 10 years with Fenton, Huey, and Boyd in tow. The original intention was to destroy (Selene above he felt sick thinking about it now) Boyd. Get rid of his past.

Only for his entire perspective to be flipped. The mentor he thought was on his side had corrupted Gyro’s creation. Boyd was never given an option in his original purpose. Turned into a war machine that the chicken never wanted. And Gyro himself realized he was not the mad scientist so many had labeled him as.

He will admit, it was by sheer dumb luck and tapping into emotions he was sure had shriveled up long ago that it all ended so well. Akita was arrested. Going to be put to trial and allowing Gyro a chance to properly clear his name. Boyd overrode all corrupted coding, both Akita’s and Mark’s. Becoming the real little boy he was meant to be. All surviving and heading back home to Duckberg. As he rested in the cushioned plane seat, Boyd resting on his lap, Gyro was hit with two realizations.

The first topic (one which he honestly wanted to focus on much, much later) was an understanding of what Fenton meant to him. Between the fear of possible death and the burn of betrayal, Gyro had felt a deep distress watching the duck fight for his life. Fenton had given his all to protect the city and the citizens. And it almost cost him his life. Something Gyro never wanted to see again. The reason why was something that the chicken was not fully ready to review. Not yet. Possibly in the future, at some point. But he had another problem he needed to worry about now.

The second worry was equally confusing. Possibly because Gyro was still emotionally backed up. He wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen to Boyd. Gyro was made aware by Huey that the other real boy had been living with the Drake’s. A pompous rich family with an arrogant and rather disturbing child. A setting Gyro didn’t want Boyd growing up in. But what was the other option? Gyro himself? Someone who’s never known a stable family life and is not even close to the person Boyd once knew.

He could barely care for himself if Gyro was honest. Living off of multiple cups of coffee and cheap instant noodles. His sleep schedule was non-existent. Social skills were laughable. Gyro had honestly nothing to offer. It was terrible that there was not a better solution to all of this. Boyd deserved so much better than whatever his current care taking options could offer.

Gyro was shocked when, only a few days later, Boyd announced he wanted to live with the scientist.

“I- why?” Gyro winced at how harsh he sounded. But Boyd merely smiled back.

“I just found you. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Well, how was he supposed to say no to that? Gyro’s second bedroom, which once housed numerous boxes, was turned into a proper living space. He lived by a schedule that revolved around Boyd’s activities. Researching meals that both could enjoy and even learning how to properly cook. It was strange, but very rewarding. Gyro didn’t think it would affect him so much.

Until Fenton pointed it out.

“You’re really happy.”

It was a casual comment. But it gave Gyro pause. “What?”

Fenton stalled at that, flushing softly. “Sorry, I mean… I just noticed you seemed to be smiling more. And you’re more relaxed. You’re eating better and well rested. You just look really happy.”

Gyro leaned back in his chair. Tapping his pen as he thought the statement over. “I...suppose I am. Boyd really had changed me for the better, I think. Isn’t it strange...he was once my biggest regret. Now, I can’t see him not being in my life. I do worry that I’m not doing enough. Or that I won’t be what Boyd needs.”

Gyro flushed softly feeling a hand benign placed on his shoulder. Looking up at the beaming face Fenton. “You’re doing a wonderful job Gyro. Don’t doubt yourself.”

The scientist did all he could to not melt into the floor. He takes Fenton’s words to heart. Gyro had worked with Fenton long enough to know the duck wasn’t one to just give false praise. So, if Fenton thought the chicken was doing well, who was Gyro to question the given conclusion.

Gyro’s resolve was truly tested when he received a call from the school Boyd was attending. Apparently the real boy had been in a fight. A fight fight with another student.

Hearing this caused Gyro to panic. Worrying that possibly, maybe, the corrupted programming had returned. Wondering what could have happened for Boyd to act like this. Had Gyro said something sarcastic that the real boy had taken to heart? Was Boyd going to be taken away? Was this a sign that Gyro was not fit to be a caretaker?

The chicken was brought out of his spinning thoughts when someone grabbed his shoulders. Eyes connected to Fenton’s, who’s looking was concerning.

“Dr. Gearloose, you need to calm down. You’re drawing a conclusion with so little context. Just go to the school and hear what happened. Then you can react appropriately.”

“Right… Right, I need to get there.” The chicken mumbled weakly, eyes now frantically scanning the lab for his car keys. Fenton came to the rescue again when said items suddenly appeared in his hands.

“How about I drive.”

“...Yeah. That’s probably for the best.”

The drive was quiet. Fenton focused on the road while Gyro internally panicked. All too soon they were pulling into the school’s parking lot. The area was relatively empty as they walked up to the front entrance. Fenton made a quiet comment about the teachers having to park behind the building. It was a bit of a shock to run into Donald. The duck looked close to an angry snap.

“Hello Mr. Duck.” Fenton offered a smile.

“Fenton,” Donald’s eyes went to Gyro, “Boyd?”

Gyro nodded. “He was apparently in a fight. What about you?”

“Huey.”

What was going on?

The three walked in together, being directed by the secretary to where the principal’s office was. Dewey and Louie were waiting outside. The triplets wearing concerned looks when they looked over to the approaching adults. Donald gave them each a hug with a few words of encouragement before knocking on the imposing door. Gyro’s hand instantly shot out and grabbed onto Fenton’s as his heart raced. The duck gave no complaint. Even giving an encouraging squeeze as they walked in.

The large desk was the first thing to note. Large and imposing, telling all that the person sitting behind it to be respected. Even if the principal himself was a frail little bird. To the right sat a large bulldog boy supporting an arm with fabric wrapped around it. Gyro assumed there was a scrap of some kind underneath the fabric. A wiry female was dotting over the child while a brick wall of a man standing behind them both with his arms crossed.

To the left sat Huey and Boyd. The real boy seemed unharmed. Just appearing extremely nervous and worried. Huey, on the other hand, was supporting a black eye. A bag of ice already pressed on the injury. Gyro needed to research if there were long term effects of multiple black eyes.

Donald instantly broke away from the three, bending down to check on Huey. Gyro walked over to Boyd. Still having a hold on Fenton’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Gyro frantically asked. To which Boyd gave a sharp nod and fell still again. Deciding that was enough of an answer for now, the scientist moved himself and Fenton to behind the seats.

“Thank you all for coming,” the principal began, “I realize this was all on short notice. But we do not tolerate fighting. According to numerous student witnesses, there was a verbal dispute that turned violent during recess. One that resulted in Dennis benign pushed and Huey receiving a black eye. Before I continue, I will ask that you hold all comments and questions until the end. Is this agreeable?”

All adults nodded.

“Very well.” Reaching for something in his drawer, the principal pulled out a cell phone protected by a faded green case. “Louie Duck was able to record the incident and it lines up with the events the other students have provided. Dennis here was apparently using verbal harassment and inappropriate language against Boyd. To which Huey attempted to defuse the situation by walking away. Dennis has responded by throwing a punch. To what ends, I’m unsure, and Dennis has not provided an answer for his actions.”

The chair Huey was sitting in let out a loud noise of protest. Donald gripping the back of it tightly.

“And you well to continue, Mr. Duck?”

Donald nodded.

“Very well. Boyd here reacted to this by pushing Dennis away. The scrap on his arm caused by his fall. Mr. and Mrs. Morris, I’m unsure as to where your son has learned such language and actions. I would advise you to seriously monitor the media and outside influence your son consumes.”

“Oh absolutely,” Mrs. Morris answered readily, “Don’t you fret. We will have a stern talking to Dennis when we get home.”

“That is good to hear. Now, does anyone have any questions about this matter.”

“What exactly did young Dennis here say to Boyd. If I may ask.” Gyro’s voice was even. But, if Fenton squeezing his hand was any indication, his tone was dripping with venom.

“I won’t say specifics as I don’t wish to repeat them. Dennis was making comments about Boyd’s...past. Something about him being dangerous. As well as some...homophobic comments.”

Fenton squeezed Gyro’s hand again, the chicken shaking now. With fear or rage, he couldn’t tell. His own attention had snapped over to Mr. Morris. The father still having his arms crossed and imposing. But Gyro noticed the other’s eyes flitted down to Gyro’s and Fenton’s joined hands. The scowl seemed to become deeper once the father was caught in the action.

“I see. I’m very concerned as to where Dennis would have picked up language like that.” Gyro held eye contact with Mr. Morris until the principal cleared his throat.

“If there are no more questions… Mr. and Mrs. Morris, the actions, both verbal and physical, cannot go unpunished. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior. Dennis will be given one weeks suspension. As well as a written apology letter to both Huey and Boyd. I would also recommend setting up some meetings with the school counselor.”

“Understandable, very reasonable.” Mrs. Morris nodded while Mr. Morris was shaking with, no doubt, rage.

“Very well. Mr. Gearloose-”

“Dr. Gearloose.”

“Ah, apologizes. Dr. Gearloose, I’m aware Boyd was merely defending Huey. However-”

“You’re going to give him detention because he pushed Dennis. Defending himself in a violent way.”

“Ah...yes. Huey will receive no punishment. I hope we’re all understanding of this course of action?” Another round of sharp nods, “Very well, I won’t keep you all any longer. Mr. Duck, here is Louie’s phone. Thank him for providing me with his phone. All are excused for the rest of the day.”

It was tense walking out. The Morris’ were leading the way. But Gyro kept a tight grip on Fenton as Mr. Morris kept glancing back with a dark scowl. Something Gyro was not a fan of. It didn’t reach a head until they entered the parking lot. Away from the front doors and the cameras.

Mr. Morris turned and stalked over to the mismatched group. Gyro more than ready for the awaiting confrontation.

“I know you, Gearloose. I’ve seen your name in the paper before. You’re an absolute menace in every possible way.” Eyes darted back down to the still clasped hands.

“Yet I’ve accomplished more than you could ever hope for in your miserable life. Your need for constant approval has clearly made you bitter. Because you’d rather stomp out any spark of joy than attempt to change yourself or your family. If this incident was any indication.”

Mr. Morris let out a low growl. Gyro fully expecting to be decked as well. Only to be shocked when Fenton stepped between the two. The larger looking down with a raised brow.

“And who are you.”

“He’s my emotional support duck.” Gyro answered.

“Do you really think a confrontation on school grounds will reflect well in any way,” Fenton said, “I would suggest you step away from this now.”

Mr. Morris popped his shoulder, his scowl set. From behind, Mrs. Morris gave a clear and harsh cough. Her husband benign sent a hard stare of his own when he turned to look back. It was a silent, but brief conversation between the two of them that ended with the husband shuffling back over to his family. No one from the group relaxed until the pink mini-van drove away from the parking lot.

“So what exactly was your plan here?” Gyro frowned at Fenton, “I don’t see the Gizmoduck armor on you.”

“My body reacted before I could really...think.” The duck laughed sheepishly.

The head scientist merely rolled his eyes before turning to Boyd. Who looked back with worried eyes. “You okay?”

The real boy shifted nervously. “He called me a weapon and...I really tried not to fight. I tried to ignore him. But he...he pushed Huey and I got really mad… What if he was right?”

“He absolutely is not right.”

“Gyro.” Fenton whispers, in the same tone that told the chicken he was sounding harsh. The head scientist was thrown off for a moment hearing his name and not his normal title. Tuck that moment of broken mind away for later.

Gyro let out a slow breath before kneeling down and placing a hand on Boyd’s shoulder. “Boyd, you know who you are. I know who you are. You are not a weapon or a mindless machine. You are a real little boy. And you need to remember that, because you are going to meet a lot of people like Dennis. Closed minded and very ignorant. Saying anything they can to make you feel miserable and make them feel better.”

“However...you have people in your life who know you. Truly know you. Those are the people you need to listen to. Because they are going to make sure you believe in yourself. Understand?”

Boyd blinked as he thought the statement over. Eyes darting over to Huey, the triplets watching as Donald shouted at someone over the phone. No doubt having called up the principal or someone higher up in the schooling system to complain about the interaction in the parking lot. The red cladded triplet looked over to Boyd, giving a small smile and a wave. Which the real boy returned happily.

“I understand, Dad.”

Gyro swallowed weakly, pulling the small form closer while trying to keep his emotions in check. A weight on his shoulder drew his attention back to Fenton. Who had bent down as well with a smile on his face. The chicken smiled back in appreciation.

_____________________________

The Lover

Gyro knew this realization was a long time coming. No matter how many times he tried to deny it. Tell himself emotions were useless weights. He reached the point where he couldn’t hide the fact any longer.

Gyro had fallen in love with Fenton.

Which is not something he really wanted to focus on.

Gyro was sure he was becoming addicted to Fenton’s laugh. The head scientist had a mental category that each laugh fell into. A hard exhale through the nose was a sarcastic laugh if Fenton found something ridiculous but didn’t want to say anything. Hiding behind his clipboard with shoulders shaking meant he found something online but didn’t want to disturb the quiet. Small chortles seemed reserved for Gyro, the duck finding the head scientist’s dry humor funny. His full laugh was used with abandonment when he knew he wouldn’t be reprimanded for being so loud. Which was honestly more often than not anymore. Gyro found he loved how the sound would echo in the labs. It was almost like music.

There was also a list of body ticks that always caught Gyro’s eyes. Gently tapping the eraser of his pencil against his bill as he thought through a new problem. Tilting his head to the side with his hip occasionally cocked to the side as he looked over a blueprint. His brow would furrow when he concentrated hard on a situation. The top of his tongue would poke out when he reached ‘Gyro level’ of focus. His nose would crinkle when he silently found something amusing or disgusting. Which could only be determined by how brightly his eyes would shine.

Gyro could privately say, to himself, in his head, that Fenton honestly kept him grounded. The number of insults he would have hurled at the media dwindled when he thought of how disappointed the duck would be. The chicken had substantially cut back on the cups of coffee he would consume in one day when Fenton made a comment about being worried about his heart. He was surprised when he went to the duck to look over a new design, wanting feedback. Fenton beaming with each new time he was included in something. Gyro would counter saying Scrooge had warned the chicken he wasn’t utilizing Fenton to his fullest ability. Which was partially true. But he would be lying if Gyro wasn’t also looking for that blinding smile of adoration to be sent his way.

So, yes. After all the mental and physical lists he created. The pros and cons to having a relationship with anyone. Countless nights where he would lie awake knowing he was nowhere near worthy enough to have Fenton. Gyro knew he was in love with the duck.

The problem was moving forward with this revelation.

In all honesty, admitting it just made it all more bothersome. When Gyro still had his walls up, he could blame the rapid heartbeat as some symptoms of an onset illness. Just push the problem away to keep working. But having Boyd back in his life made him realize how bottling his emotions had become so damaging. Making Gyro more aware of what he was missing.

So now he was left to tread water. Wondering who he trusted well enough to ask for help.

There weren’t that many options with the Duck family. He and Donald had never really gotten along before the Spear of Selene incident. And Gyro was sure the duck still held some hostility towards him about the incident. While Gyro would consider Della the closest person to be a ‘childhood’ friend, she was dealing with her own issues. The kids were far too young to be considered as an option. Launchpad only had two rocks rolling around in that empty head, so any advice from him was not worth the headache. M’ma Cabrera? ...Selene above no. Even Gyro wasn’t that insane.

So that only left...Scrooge McDuck. This could not be considered a work appropriate topic. But the chicken was honestly at his wits end and needed help. The billionaire was his last and only option. It was with a heavy stone in his stomach that Gyro approached the familiar office doors. Knocking on them and only entering when he heard the familiar call out to do so.

“Ah, Gyro! What can I do for you?” Scrooge asked as the chicken sat across from him.

“I...need some advice.”

Scrooge paused in his writing, raising a brow as his full attention went to Gyro. “Advice on what?”

The chicken swallowed weakly. “Uh...romantic advice?”

“I see…” The billionaire placed his pend down. Clearing his throat, Scrooge sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Well, I will admit that I have not been very successful in my own love life. But I can offer help in any way I can. So, who’s the lucky person?”

Gyro swallowed again, feeling his face become flushed at the question. Doing all he could not to groan, he answered, “It’s Fenton.”

“The Gizmoboy? Really?”

Gyro nodded, not looking at Scrooge. His face on fire. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m aware that things have been going well and I don’t want to ruin it. But I feel like I’m going crazy! My heart is always going so fast when he’s near. I want to tell him, I really do. But...I also don’t think I’m the kind of person he deserves…”

Scrooge let out a heavy sigh as Gyro’s shoulders slumped. “I won’t act as if I’ve known you for your entire life. We both know I haven’t. But I have seen you at your lowest point and every triumph you’ve accomplished along the way. I’ve seen you slowly close in on yourself. It pained me to watch because I wasn’t sure how to help…”

“Let’s be honest sir. We both have not been in great positions emotionally for a while.” Gyro commented weakly. One that got a laugh out of Scrooge.

“This is true. But, the point is you have made a change in the past few months. I know you’ve built walls around yourself. I also know...bringing those walls down can be a terrifying idea. You’ve already started thanks to that boy of yours. Even if it was unintentional.”

“But what if he says no? I don’t know… There are too many variables that could offer a negative outcome.”

“That’s the risk of life. The good and the bad.”

“So what if he says no.”

“Then you move forward.”

“...I don’t know if I will recover.”

“Gyro, you’re putting the horse before the cart. And we’re still building the cart.”

Letting out a small groan, Gyro rubbed his forehead before looking back up. “Okay. So I’m taking a risk. We’ve determined that. But what do I say to him?”

“You just ask him.”

“Could you please not make it sound so easy.”

“It sounds easy because it is. You’re asking Fenton out on a date. Not defusing a bomb.”

“Yet the latter seems easier to accomplish.”

“Take the risk Gyro. Don’t waste your life wallowing on the ‘what-ifs’. You’ll regret it.”

Gyro left the office with not many answers and a pounding headache. But with determination to try and make this work in some way.

The bottom drawer of his desk was now filled with blueprints. Not for machines, but the best plan to ask Fenton out. The perfect places to go. All ranging from the cliche to the outlandish. What day would work best. His feathers became further ruffled as he worked. After a week of no progress, Gyro knew this wasn’t going to work. No reliable variables or knowledgeable outcomes. He just needed to do this. Because Gyro couldn’t stay in this mindset anymore.

Gyro’s first move was to wait for the lab to be empty. If he was going to crash and burn, he didn’t want an audience. Once that was achieved, he took a deep breath to settle his heart (didn’t work) and walked over to Fenton’s desk. The duck breaking from his thoughts hearing Gyro clear his throat.

“Hello Dr. Gearloose. What can I help you with?”

Gyro’s heart seemed to pick up it’s pace. Between the smile and wide eyes, the chicken felt like he was melting. In a good way. If that makes sense. None of this did.

Emotions were just so messy.

Darn it Gyro, focus!

“I...was wondering if you would be interested in conducting a...social experiment with me.”

“Oh, uh, sure! Of course. What’s the experiment?”

Another deep breath. “There is a new cafe that’s opened up recently near where I live. I am curious if you would like to join me in trying the products they offer. Sometime this weekend, possibly Saturday? Possibly trade some stories?”

Fenton’s head tilted to the side as Gyro spoke. A small smile forming as the other finished. “Dr. Gearloose-”

“Gyro. You...you can call me Gyro.”

“Okay, Gyro. Would it be safe to assume that this is an ask for a date?”

“That...would be a safe assumption.”

“Then I accept.”

Gyron was honestly shocked he was able to remain standing. Relief hitting him quickly upon hearing the answer. “Good, good.”

“How about I drop by your apartment around 8? Have breakfast at this cafe?”

“That’s acceptable.”

“Good. I look forward to this Saturday.”

“I am as well.”

One date turned to two. Which turned into three. Which became having dinner at the Crackshell-Cabrera household. Gyro was shocked when he received M’ma Cabrera’s blessing in dating her son. But not before getting a stern warning of what would happen if Fenton was hurt in any way.

“I think that was successful.” Fenton commented as they were sharing their good-byes for the evening on the front porch.

“Yeah. Nothing says accepting like a talk that ends in the threat of my kneecaps.” Gyro smiled softly hearing the other chuckle.

“Well, she may or may not be upset still about your MoonVasion comment. You know. About throwing Gizmoduck into the masses as a sacrifice.”

“I may now also regret that comment…”

Another laugh from Fenton, the duck reaching down to gently take Gyro’s hand. Placing a kiss on the back of it before holding it close. “I’m glad you came. I think M’ma really appreciates it as well.”

“I’m happy I came as well… You know...I don’t say or do things that intentionally hurt you. I did at first but-”

“Gyro.”

“Yes?”

“I know you better now than I did before.”

And the matter was dropped.

The first kiss milestone occurred at the park around the holidays. Both bundled up against the cold and falling snow as they admired the strung holiday lights hanging from the numerous trees. Arms hooked, Fenton led the way with wide eyes. Giving small comments about the lights and how lovely the park was decorated. Gyro was admiring the duck himself. Loving how the lights fell over the brown plumage. Fenton eventually caught on that the chicken wasn’t looking at the light as he was. Flushing softly seeing eyes on him.

“W-What?” The duck laughed, a small smile forming.

“You’re beautiful.” Gyro responded softly. Fenton’s eyes widened at the comment before softening into another smile. Gyro put up no restraint as he was gently pulled down. Fenton leaning up and meeting the chicken in a gentle kiss. It was only a few seconds, but Gyro loved every moment of it.

The utterance of the three words came a few months into them dating. Fenton had arrived back to the labs after an intense battle to find a worried chicken. Arms crossed and first aid kit in his hands. There was a sharp point set to the couch and Fenton understood the silent command. Stepping out of the suit and plopping onto the cushioned furniture. Gyro made it clear he was less than pleased at the moment.

“What were you thinking.” The chicken snapped. Hand shaking as he attempted to gently clean the cuts.

“People needed help.”

“Why is that your answer for everything and why do you think it’s a reasonable one.”

“Because it’s true. I have to defend Duckberg.”

“Even against crazies coming from St. Canard? Can’t that purple caped idiot keep them in his neck of the woods.”

Fenton smiled softly. “Villains are people too. You can’t control everything.”

“Don’t tell me that. You know the first thing I’m going to do is make something that controls people to make them leave this place.”

“Gyro, that’s unethical.”

“Well, maybe if you would stop being your heroic self and making me worry.”

“I understood the risks when I took this position. As did you. As long as I have you to come back to, I’ll be okay.”

Gyro huffed as he finished up. Turning to start packing up the supplies. “I love you, but you can be such an idiot sometimes.”

He didn’t catch it until Fenton grabbed his hand suddenly. The chicken looked up to find eyes filled with shock staring at him. “What...did you say?”

Gyro frowned, thinking back to his previous words. Face becoming full blown red when he realized what he’d just uttered. “I… Is it too soon to say that? I’m sorry, I just- I’ve been thinking it a lot and every time you go to your superheroing, I think how I’m not going to get to say it. But I know we haven’t dated for a year and-”

“I love you too.”

Swallowing his words down, Gyro’s head snapped back up to look Fenton in the eyes. They sat, staring at each other in disbelief before Fenton chuckled. Gyro shares his own sheepish grin before leaning forward to claim a kiss from Fenton.

It was close to a year of them dating that Fenton moved in with Gyro and Boyd. The real boy thrilled to have the other doctor living with them. The once small, cold apartment was now teeming with life. Mornings were a rush to get ready for the day and to be out the door before they were all late. The kitchen filled with warmth and wonderful smells as Fenton makes dinner with Gyro helping where he could. Meals being shared at the small dining table before watching a few shows until bedtime. Gyro and Fenton taking turns reading to Boyd before he powered down for the night.

It was a comfortable routine. Something Gyro thought he would’ve hated. But with each day ending with him and Fenton in their shared bed. The younger laying his head on Gyro’s chest and long arms wrapped around him. The chicken realized he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I think we should buy a house.” Gyro suddenly commented into the darkness. Hearing Fenton hum softly as he was pulled from sleep.

“Where’d this come from?” The duck mumbled weakly.

“I’m not really sure. The boring suburban life seems pleasant after the craziness of...everything. What do you think?”

“I like the idea,” Fenton yawned widely before pressing closer, “We could get a big yard for Boyd and Lil Blub to play in. Neighborhood kids to become friends with. I think Della mentioned about getting a house in a quiet suburb. We could ask her.”

“That place won’t be quiet once that family moves in.”

“Oh hush. Wouldn’t it be nice to have Huey as a neighbor? Boyd would like it.”

“I suppose so…”

Fenton gave another hum, Gyro noticing the other’s breathing was slowing down again. He leaned down to place a kiss on Fenton’s forehead. “I love you.”

The duck laughed softly. Placing his own weak kiss on Gyro’s neck. “Love you too…”

Gyro let out a slow breath, a smile forming on his face. Eyes on the ceiling as he listened to Fenton fall asleep. A hand reached up to preen a few feathers as he pulled the other closer. Heart beating happily as he settled down further into the bed. A smile still on his face as he fell asleep as well.

#ducktales #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell-cabrera #fenro #s-creations #fanfiction

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jonthethinker · 4 years ago

Text

After a long day of truly cursed thoughts, I’ve come to the determination that the Cerberus Assembly can act as a sort of Exandrian analog of our world’s Silicon Valley, and I hate it. I hate hate hate it.

The more I think about it, the more it just sort of melds into my mind as fact. I can’t escape it. This is where I live now.

You’ve got this collection of self-proclaimed super geniuses, unbounded by modern social mores and determined to invent a new sort of ethics, with an intent on shaping history and sagely guiding the world into a better future. This is despite the fact that most of the ideas they have inevitably end up making the world worse, and the only thing “new” that they really bring into the world is a bunch of actually very old ideas coated in fresh circuitry/magic.

But let’s dig a little deeper and start getting specific.

They both have these images of fiercely independent, creative bodies desperate to remain free from government control, and sometimes even as a check on that very government. The heads of the Cerberus Assembly outright say their intent is to act as a check on the Crown, and are known to have many secrets the Crown is, to their knowledge, totally unaware of.

Tech companies, particularly in America, have this outward facing very libertarian outlook on things, saying they don’t wish to interfere in the very important process of democracy and free speech, while simultaneously feeling it is their responsibility to fact check those in power and hold them to account, with their “serious vetting” of political ads and the like on their platforms. They also lobby heavily against any and all regulation of their various products and services, preferring to let the “invisible hand” of the market provide the service of keeping them in check, much as the Cerberus Assembly prefers to handle its own problems internally.

But when you really dig into the details this is all bullshit. The Cerberus Assembly, for all intents and purposes, IS the Empire. They run the secret police, for goodness sake. The two are so interconnected, and the Assembly as an institution is so dependent on the infrastructure and manpower, and of course money (because the fancy clothes, giant towers, and expensive sets of material components don’t pay for themselves) of the Empire to accomplish its goals, it can’t serve as a real check on Imperial forces possibly “overstepping”, and it also has no material interest in doing so; the more power and control the Empire has, the more power and control the Assembly has; the less freedom the citizens have due to authoritarian “safety” measures implemented by the Crown, the safer the Assembly itself becomes to pursue it’s morally dubious work and experimentation.

The same goes with Silicon Valley and the various tech companies that fall under its ethos. They will expound continually on the necessary freedom from government control they must have to truly change the world in the ways they think are best, but the primary source of money for most of these companies are governments. They either primarily contract with governments for most of their actual profits or to use its already established infrastructure, as is the case with Amazon, or depend heavily on publicly funded research for their innovations, which is everyone from Apple to Google to Microsoft and dozens and dozens of smaller companies besides. They then even get to patent these publicly funded innovations and hold a monopolized stranglehold on their use. This is not even to mention the starter capital necessary to form many of these companies in the first place itself was provided by governments, with the rather, shall we say “morally questionable” Kingdom of Saudi Arabia being among the top contributors to such start ups.

Even when either of these groups claim to be self-made, it’s all bullshit. So many of our famous tech overlords that supposedly built themselves from nothing started at the upper reaches of society, with more than enough capital and connections to insure they were never at any real risk of failing in the first place. Most even went to the same elite institutions of learning that provide the vast majority of the political leadership of the United States, institutions they had access to due to their wealth and familial connections, not their brains. Elon Musk’s family owned an emerald mine in Zambia for God’s sake, one his family would have never owned without the British Empire being a thing.

The same can be said for the Assembly. The upper classes of the Dwendalian Empire are lousy with mages and magic users. If they don’t have a place to climb among the nobility, they work for the Assembly, and hope to climb there. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that the only poorer mage recruits we know anything real about all were sucked up into the service of the Scourgers, one of the few arms of the Assembly known to regularly interact with societies lower reaches and not so positively at that, and had their familial identities obliterated in the process. Both of these groups are of the upper reaches of society and serve the upper reaches of society, and we should never think anything less.

And this brings us to the ideological framework both of these groups think with. They are both full to the brim with people who are individualists to the extreme. They all believe they are singular actors in the great tapestry of history, who got where they are by hard work and dedication, and anyone who isn’t there just didn’t do enough. The folks living in the tent city outside Zadash? lazy layabouts who simply have not applied their mind to be something greater, or perhaps their veins are just full of bad blood. Poor former factory workers in Detroit whose jobs have been moved to places where labor laws are weaker and wages are lower? If they’d only taken their education more seriously, they could be where I am! Or maybe they just never tried to be an Uber driver or delivering for Grubhub, because that’s how you really pull yourself out of poverty.

Meanwhile, most of the groups consist of people who have never once known real adversity and certainly not the hardship of poverty nor the lack of social and political power that position entails. They are blinded to the reality of most people in the world outside their rather small one, and thus have no understanding of the material hardship that most people experience during their everyday life.

You see this most clearer in the manner in which they try to solve what they see as societies great problems, with no clear thought put into the consequences of these particular solutions. In our world, this is particularly obvious. Uber is painted as an innovative means of transportation on a budget, when in reality it’s just a fleet of untrained, underpaid, non-unionized taxi drivers using their own personal vehicles at their own expense. Elon Musk is seen as this super genius when his solution to LA traffic wasn’t a more robust public transportation system or slowly reconstructing the city to be more pedestrian friendly, but instead to build a massive network of single car elevators under the city to zip cars to key hot spots faster in a manner people less anxious than me would still call risky at best. I mean most of these people think the key to ending poverty is teaching people to code or giving them STEM education, even when in a capitalist economy the only thing a sudden flooding of new coders and STEM educated folks would insure is that the jobs that require those skills will see a sudden massive drop in pay and benefits as the pool of prospective employees becomes over-saturated and individual workers no longer have any bargaining power to protect their once rare jobs. You already see this in animation and video game design, and you’ll certainly see it elsewhere.

For the Assembly, despite being praised as the brightest arcane minds of Wildmount, seem to get most of their ideas either by stealing them from others or digging them up out of the ground. But this is just the nature of empire; it’s always easier for an empire to consume than it is to create. So as little as they think of the Dynasty, they are eager to steal every little bit of knowledge they’ve discovered about Dunamis, and without the faith and moral sense the Luxon-based religion imposes, they will never be forced to put the use of this rare and dangerous magic into perspective. Imagine what harm they can cause with gravity and time magic when they don’t have that religious pressure to consider the value of life and choice. But this makes sense when their main sources of inspiration are the wizards of the Age Of Arcana; you know, the wizards whose hubris nearly destroyed the entire world and spurred an apocalyptic war that sent society into a dark age in which the gods themselves abandoned them? A+ inspiration material if you ask me.

Even the culture of these two groups in regards to how they regulate themselves is so eerily similar. Think of Delilah Briarwood. Member in good standing of the Cerberus Assembly. Also, worshipper of Vecna and talented necromancer. Only expelled from the Assembly after involvement from the Cobalt Soul, even when you know every other member of the Assembly almost certainly had loads of information on this lady.

It just makes me think of all the weird, right-wingers and Nazis who occasionally get expelled from the heights of Silicon Valley whenever some journalist exposes them, and how quickly their colleagues are to condemn them even when so many of them either knew this person was this way well before they were exposed or actively agreed with them and still do. I mean, think of how protected Bill Gates is, because of how much his philanthropist image has served to insulate and protect the gross consolidation of wealth and power in the hands of so few, even when his fortune was built on stolen ideas, military funding and research, and a hardcore software monopoly for well over a decade or two. Also, his philanthropy has done nothing to help African people build their own institutions of power independent of European and American influence, and have help distract us from the damage really caused to the entire continent by earlier colonialism and later capitalist imperialism.

This is to say as bad as our world is, I now definitely don’t want to live in Wildemount. I don’t want to live a world where Mark Zukerberg can cast Disintegrate. Not ideal. I guess I’ll just have to work that much harder to fix this one and not depend on learning Dunamancy to just put us on a different path. Bummer.

#Critical Role #Cerberus Assembly #Dwendalian Empire

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raeynbowboi · 4 years ago

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Bob’s Burgers 10th Anniversary Retrospective

After ten years, Bob, Linda, and the Kids are just as delightfully wacky and endearing as they ever were, and show no signs of slowing down. So I wanted to put together an ultra mega review of the series. I’ll give an opinion on main and recurring characters, as with a cast this big, there’s been a lot of endearing characters to grace the show over the years. However, I will only be counting characters that have appeared more than once. After ten years, there’s been some real gems, and some real misfires. So, I’ll be counting down my top 10 best episodes, and the bottom 10 worst episodes. I’ll also go through as a Highlight Reel, by picking a best and worst episode of each season, as well as crowning the Best Season with the most good episodes.

Bob Belcher

Honestly, Bob was a very easy character to mess up. He’s the straight man to his wacky family’s antics. But the show does a really great job making Bob simple and lowkey without making him boring or a stick in the mud. He may be resistant to weird things, but he puts up with it anyway to make his family happy. While he’s the serious straight man, they don’t fail to give Bob his own eccentricities and quirks that make him relatable and funny in his own way. Whether he’s making things talk, getting weirdly excited about Thanksgiving, or his awkward way of speaking, Bob is genuinely a good and relatable character. It’s also nice to see that Bob is a great husband and a loving father. He and Linda argue from time to time, but they’re not trapped in a loveless marriage for the kid’s sake like most shows. And even shows where that’s not a selling point like American Dad, Bob shows more remorse for things like forgetting their anniversary than Stan does for Francine. Bob is supportive, loving, and forgiving. Which is just amazing to watch. The times when his kids really need him, he’s there for them, and he helps them through their problems. While Bob might fight with and get mad with or annoyed by his family, Bob never treats them like people he’s stuck with. Frankly, Bob blows most animated TV dads out of the water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stan or Francine give quiet supportive talks to Steve or Hayley ever in American Dad. Peter used to at least try to be a decent father, but now is a negligent toddler. Likewise, Homer used to be a great father who cared about his kids, but later seasons have really stepped away from the family angle the Simpsons used to have. In a sea of adult animated families that are toxic and destructive, Bob’s genuine love for his family came as a breath of fresh air.

Linda Belcher

Linda is by far the best Adult Animation TV mom there is. For one thing, she’s funnier than Francine, Lois, and Marge combined. But more importantly, she’s not the butt of the joke when it happens. I can only really remember laughing at Francine when they make dumb blonde jokes with her, but Linda’s jokes come from her character. She could have easily been the gender inverted Homer or Peter, but the writers are careful to make her gullible, trusting, and goofy without making her a moron. When the kids do something wrong, Linda busts out the tough mom act and you genuinely believe that the kids are in trouble. She’s not faking it. She’s not off in her own little world. She’s a bit of a goofy dreamer, but she’s able to be the tough disciplinarian when she needs to be. Her relationship with Bob is also better than most adult animation wives. She’s more independent than the other housewives, and even though her job is working with her husband, it never feels like it robs Linda of her own power, autonomy, and freedom. But the best thing about Linda is that I think most people can agree, she has an extremely strong and charming personality that endears us to her.

Tina Belcher

I really wish I could say I liked Tina more. She’s a creative romantic, just like me. I should love her. But her monotone deliveries and awkwardness isn’t as endearing as Bob’s. I like her better in episodes like Teen-A Witch and Broadcast Wagstaff School News where she has a bit stronger of a personality. But unfortunately, Tina is my least favorite member of the Belcher family, which isn’t to say that I hate her, she just doesn’t shine as bright as the rest of her family. She’s just not very funny or interesting on her own. But on the plus side, at least I don’t find Tina to be annoying or terrible except in the rare bad episode.

Gene Belcher

Gene is the only member of the family that can regularly get my dad to laugh, and with good reason. If he wasn’t such a well of nonsequitor punchlines, Gene would probably be the worst member of the family, but boy howdy do those random jokes pick up the slack. Gene is genuinely hilarious, even if I’d only rank him above Tina in terms of favoritism. However, I find that most Gene-centric episodes to be lackluster or below average. I think Gene’s best episode is probably Y Tu Ga-Ga Tambien, but of the best episodes, none really come to mind that specifically star Gene. Gene is really better suited for a supporting role, and his times as the star showcase why comic reliefs aren’t the main character. They’re support characters for a reason. That’s not to say Gene-centric episodes are terrible. They just tend to range from about average to bad. Though Y Tu Ga-Ga Tambien is a pretty good one.

Louise Belcher

Bob and Linda saved the best for last because Louise is the breakout star of the show. Funny, interesting, and the focus of many of the better episodes, Louise stands proudly on the first place podium with Linda in 2nd and Bob taking 3rd place. I think Louise’s strengths are especially due to her standoffish and naughty personality, which has lent itself to a lot of good character growth episodes. Season 10 Louise seems a lot more mature than Season 1 Louise. I think Louise works because while she does often have clever or sneaky solutions to problems, they don’t forget that she’s 9, so unlike Stewie, her age does present hurdles and barriers to her schemes and plans.

The Best and Worst of Bob’s Burgers

#10 WORST: Pro-Tiki/Con-Tiki (S6e15)

Why couldn’t Warren Fitzgerald just put that $100,000 into advertisements or to help Bob buy better equipment for his restaurant? My biggest issue with this episode isn’t the episode itself, it’s that the ending makes no sense. Warren wants to help Bob because he has a form of riches Warren lacks, and Bob doesn’t want a corporate sponsor to make changes to his brand. But why can’t Warren just give Bob the money to make choices he wants to make? They could stay as business partners, but Bob doesn’t have to sacrifice his personal vision for the restaurant. It’s just really frustrating when they’re both being too stupid and stubborn to see the obvious solution in front of their faces.

#10 BEST: Teen-a Witch (S7e03)

One of Tina’s best episodes, as someone who had a goth phase myself and dabbled a tiny amount in ‘witchcraft’, this episode brings back memories of high school and the desire to make the world what I wanted it to be. But on top of that, Tina with a backbone is when she really shines as a character, mostly because it means her humor isn’t being derived from her being awkward.

#9 WORST: Live and Let Fly (S9e05)

Mr. Frond embarrasses the kids, and they team up with Up-Skirt Kurt to get revenge against his sister and Mr. Frond. I’m not a fan of Kurt, so I already don’t care much about his feud with his sister, but I also just find the episode kind of boring. I don’t care about Kurt, I don’t care about his feud, and the kids call off their revenge, so that ends up not mattering either. Even Bob and Linda’s side plot is only middle-of-the-road quality for Bob’s Burgers.

#9 BEST: Wharf Horse/World Wharf II (S4e21-22)

The very first two-part episode Bob’s Burgers ever had, the season 4 finale is a great watching experience. It has some fun songs, funny character exchanges, suspenseful drama, and some heartfelt moments. It feels like a short movie, and that’s a good thing for a two-part episode to do. Even Fanny and Felix are interesting villains. But even after everything Felix did, I don’t find myself loathing him in later episodes, and that’s a hard thing to accomplish.

#8 WORST: Tina-Rannosaurus Wrecks (S3e07)

This is the only bad Tina episode where the problem isn’t Tina herself. My biggest issue with this episode is more just the subject matter. Bob lies for insurance reasons about who was driving his car, and the entire episode is just Bob and Tina digging a deeper and deeper hole for themselves. The solution to the issue is clever enough to redeem the episode somewhat, but the majority of the watching experience is just kind of an awkward dance of watching these two getting tangled up in a web of lies.

#8 BEST: The Taking of Funtime One Two Three (S9e02)

Bar none, this is the single best ‘Heist’ episode of Bob’s Burgers, and it’s kind of crazy that Bob’s Burgers has actually built a repertoire to where I can make a list of ‘heist’ episodes as an archetype. This one feels the most like an actual heist movie, and the ending is legitimately clever and unexpected. But even more than that, if you’re paying attention, you can see the twist before the characters even reveal it. That is the kind of tight writing that makes the list for best episodes.

#7 WORST: A Fish Called Tina (S10e12)

Tina spends an episode trying way too hard to make someone like her, to the point that she almost humiliates a 4th grader in public just so she can live out some fantasy. It’s really uncomfortable and sickening to watch Tina do this. This will be a recurring issue with Tina’s low-point episodes. There’s nothing fun about watching a character make a complete idiot out of themselves by coming on too strong. It even makes me groan when Kaylie shows up in another Season 10 episode because I don’t want to have to think about this awful episode.

#7 BEST: Stand By Gene (S6e12)

Something about this episode really just brings back memories of my childhood. Memories of walking through the outdoors, just exploring and wanting to find things. The characters are funny, and Bob and Linda’s relationship is put to the test. Plus, I loved that for the entire episode, you don’t know how it’ll end. It really makes this a personal favorite and one of the episodes I knew had to make it on my list.

#6 WORST: The Grand Mama-Pest Hotel (S7e13)

Linda ruins things for Tina by being an overbearing annoyance. Are you noticing a trend with Bob’s Burgers’ worst episodes? I don’t like it when good characters make complete jackasses out of themselves in the name of ‘humor’. It’s not funny. It’s annoying and makes me dislike them. Thankfully, the worst of it is only in the latter half of the 2nd act and the entire third act, but Linda’s behavior just makes me cringe and ask why they had to do Linda dirty like this? It just puts me even more squarely on the side that Tina is entirely in the right and I don’t want to deal with Lind either.

#6 BEST: Broadcast Wagstaff School News (S3e12)

From Tina at her lowest point to Tina at her best, Broadcast Wagstaff School News is my favorite episode of the first 5 seasons. Tina’s funny and engaging, Gene is absolutely shining as Little Bob, and while Louise and Linda play supporting roles in this episode, they’re still funny as well. Plus, the mystery is a good one, and this episode is even referenced in later seasons.

#5 WORST: Mazel-Tina (S4e13)

Tina ruins Tammy’s birthday and steals her party. This is Tina at rock bottom. Tina is so despicable, cruel, and selfish in this episode that it reminds me that behind that creative awkward girl is a selfish brat who doesn’t care if she hurts other people if she can live out her fantasies. If other episodes didn’t rescue Tina from being so unlikable, I probably would hate Tina as a character entirely for her behavior in this episode.

#5 BEST: The Silence of the Louise (S8e02)

Movie parodies are some of the best, and The Silence of the Louise is the queen of all the movie parodies. When Mr. Frond’s therapy dolls are mutilated, and the school staff calls off the waterpark trip until the culprit is caught, Louise teams up with psycho Millie to figure out whodunnit. This is also one of the first time Millie wasn’t strictly an antagonist, and she genuinely felt like someone who could be Louise’s friend someday.

#4 WORST: Boywatch (S8e16)

Tina ruins things for other people by coming on too strong. The only reason this is ranked higher than Mozel-Tina is because in that episode, she just wanted to be at the party, and just kind of ended up as the star of the party and let it go to her head, whereas here, she is actively ruining things for other people in pursuit of her own delusions and fantasies. Tina has no desire to be a junior lifeguard, but cute boys causes her to behave like a troublemaker. She’s entirely out of character, and her teammates’ hate for her behavior is something I agree with. I don’t want to hate the main characters, so why does this show keep pushing to make Tina a nuisance who ruins experiences for other people?

#4 BEST: The Quirkducers (S7e06)

If the Silence of the Louise is the queen of film parodies, then The Quirkducers is the king. Not only is it a clever parody of The Producers, but it also has some damn good musical numbers, especially the edited end credit version. But it’s Tina’s song at the end that stands as one of my favorites of all Bob’s Burgers’ songs.

#3 WORST: Bed & Breakfast (S1e07)

If a Fish Called Tina is bad, then Bed & Breakfast is flaming garbage. Linda turns their apartment into a Bed and Breakfast, and Linda goes berserk when the guests don’t play into her expectations. This episode verges from below average to detestable as Linda goes insane and locks people in their rooms, and Louise drives a grown man to attack workers by preying on his fear.

#3 BEST: The Hauntening (S6e03)

This is hands-down the best Halloween episode that Bob’s Burgers ever made. This show turns out some amazing holiday episodes, and this is one of the best the Belchers have to offer. I won’t dare give away anything about this episode. If you’ve seen it, you know why it’s top of the heap, and if you haven’t, then all I can say is what are you waiting for? Delayed gratification has to pay off eventually.

#2 WORST: Every Which Way But Goose (S9e14)

Tina falls in love with a goose. Who smoked crack before writing this episode, and who huffed enough paint thinner to approve this episode for production? This is the absolute dumbest concept for an episode I have ever come across. Who thought this was a good idea? I can’t even pinpoint the flaws because this entire episode is just so flawed. At least Mazel-Tina and Boywatch enrage me. This just baffles me.

#2 BEST: A Few Gurt Men (S7e11)

When Mr. Ambrose accuses Mr. Frond of stealing his yogurt from the faculty lounge, the case is brought before student court, and Louise is tasked with acting as Defense Council for Mr. Frond. One thing Bob’s Burgers does well is mysteries, and this is a good one as Louise has to figure out a way to prove Frond’s innocence. This is just an absolute personal favorite. Every character is just on point, and I get excited when the episode starts to que up.

#1 WORST: Moody Foodie (S2e07)

Did you ever want to watch the Belchers commit a felony? Then boy howdy do I have an episode for you! A picky food critic responsible for shutting down restaurants comes to Bob’s Burgers. Bob messes up the order, and a visit to the critic’s house to get him to try his burger again leads to a hostage situation with the critic tied to a chair and gagged in his own home. Words cannot describe the depth to which I hate this episode. The entire episode feels dirty and vile. I feel the need to scrub my skin raw after sitting through this episode. The instant I realize that it’s come on, I skip the the next one. I have literally only sat through this episode once. This episode disgusts me. This episode has the main character, abduct somebody in their own home. Then they take a second hostage when a mailman delivers the guy’s package. Luckily, Bob’s Burgers has a lot of good episodes to make up for this one bad egg, but this episode enrages me to the point that if the family wasn’t so charming and endearing most of the time, I might have stopped watching based just on this one episode.

#1 BEST: The Bleakening: Part 1 & 2 (S8e06-07)

The first time I saw these episodes, they played back to back without any credits in between them, and I thought it was one episode, and I didn’t even realize it was the length of two episodes. Between the amazing songs, the brain bending twists, the creative creature, the dark elements that contrast the bright lights of the holidays, and the uplifting ending, this pair of episodes stands paramount as the single greatest viewing experience that Bob’s Burgers has to offer.

Favorite Friend of the Kids: Regular-Sized Rudy

First appearing in Carpe Museum, Rudy came back in The Kids Rob a Train, where he has remained a friend of the kids since. Rudy was the first to join the kids if you don’t count Andy and Ollie who seem to dip in and back out as to whether they’re included in the friend group. Rudy was thus the first to be made a main member of the kids’ friend group.

Favorite Schoolyard Seven: Jocelyn

The Schoolyard Seven is the friend group of the three Belchers, Jimmy Jr., Zeke, Tammy, and Jocelyn. Not counting the Belchers, it was a close call between Zeke and Jocelyn. Tammy and Jimmy Jr. tend to be typecast as serving one niche thing, but Zeke and Jocelyn are often the comedic gold. However, while Zeke is more interesting of the two, I just enjoy Jocelyn too much to not give her the win. Even if Jocelyn’s humor is just a walking dumb blonde trope, like Gene, Jocelyn has a knack for funny one-liners. If the groups has another name, I’m not privy to it.

Favorite Friend of the Family: Micky

Though he’s less connected to the family now, Micky has been a friend to the Belchers since Bob Day Afternoon, and returning in Bob Fires the Kids. Since his introduction, Micky has gotten a job at Wonder Wharf, where he has remained since.

Favorite Recurring Villain: Logan Bush

First appearing in Ears-y Rider, Logan has been a fun and interesting frenemy for Louise to match wits with. In a show where most other villains are the same age as the main characters (Millie, Tammy, Chloe, Jimmy Pesto, Hugo) Logan stands out as a legitimate bully. Yet, even he was willing to work with Louise in Mother-Daughter Laser Razor, showing that there is wiggle room for the two of them to even join forces and spread havoc together.

Favorite Tina Love Interest: Duncan

Earnest if not a little awkward, Duncan seems like a sweet boy for Tina to possibly end up with. Sasha Whiteman is another character I could easily see being a good boyfriend to Tina because his quick wit and social graces make him a great foil to Tina, and he excels where Tina falls short. Zeke has a good chance to be a good boyfriend, but Tina still spits his name when she greets him, so I doubt she’d take interest in him unless something happens to change their dynamic. I liked Josh, but now that he’s said he doesn’t like her anymore and she agreed that she feels the same, I doubt we’re going to see them date further in the future.

Favorite Side Character: Nat Kinkle the Limo Driver

First appearing in Season 8 episode 8 V for Valentine-detta, I must not be the only fan of Nat’s because she made two appearances in the 10th season, in episode 1 The Ring (But Not Scary) and episode 17 Just the Trip. Currently with only 3 appearances, she’s still only a side character, but I get the feeling that like with Rudy, Courtney, Darrel and Alex before her, Nat will keep becoming a more frequent character. She just has a great vibe, and her charisma is intoxicating. She meshes great with the family, making her an absolute delight to watch.

Favorite Bit Character: Marshmallow

Although she’s appeared in multiple episodes since her introduction in Sheesh, Cab Bob, Marshmallow has never gotten much more than a couple lines, with her biggest role being in The Bleakening where she had more to say. She was also the first major LGBT+ recurring character on the show, which also made her a joy to see, whenever she returned to Bob’s Burgers.

Favorite Headcanon: Gene is Genderfluid

Gene’s jokes have been centered on his gender or sexuality since the first season finale. A joke once in a while is one thing, but ten years of the same sorts of jokes tells the sharp viewer that there’s more to it than just a running gag. With how many jokes have Gene talk about having boobs, synching his cycle, or calling himself Tina and Louise’s sister or Bob and Linda’s daughter, it’s my opinion that Gene is genderfluid, or possibly even transgender. The only reason I say genderfluid over a transgirl is because he still also addresses himself as a boy or a man as much as he does girl jokes.

Best Song: Twinkly Lights (Ms. XXX-Mas)

Not only does Toddrick Hall absolutely kill this performance, but I also love the meaning of the song about POC inclusivity and pride in the LGBT+ community. As the final song in The Bleakening, it’s one hell of a closing number, and I can’t help but dance in my seat whenever it plays. I’ve even listened to it independent from watching the show, and honor I don’t bestow on every song.

Best Episode Archetypes:

The Best Heist: The Taking of Funtime One Two Three

The Belcher kids have stolen a number of things. Chocolate, a bounce house, but the absolute creme de la creme of their heists is the procuring of the Dunebuggy from Family Funtime. When Family Funtime unplugs the macchines whenver the kids get too many tickets from them, the kids decide to pull off the heist of a century to make off with the biggest prize of the arcade: the dune buggy.

The Kids Tell An Anthology: Moms, Lies, and Videotapes

From the Gayle Tales to The Handyman Can, the kids have told a number of anthology stories, but the most impressive of the bunch is their stories of the mother’s day plays into three interesting stories. Though true to form, Gene’s is the weakest of the three, as his usually are. I don’t recall any time when his anthology was the best of the kids’, but then, Gene is not the most creative of the three children. His best story is probably in The Frond Files where his story’s world is colorful and fun to observe.

Best Musical Episode: The Bleakening

Not only do these episodes have a lot of musical numbers, but there is not a single one that doesn’t hit a home run. But more importantly, the entire episode is a musical, with each number helping to tie and bridge together the narrative, which is the entire purpose of musical numbers in a proper musical, which makes this the single best musical episode mainly because it’s the only episode that’s a true blue musical.

Best Holiday Episode: The Hauntening

With The Bleakening already taking the top spot for musical episodes, that leaves the Miss Congeniality of the holiday episodes to take the crown. I didn’t spoil anything about this episode above, and I won’t say a thing about it now. This episode is solid gold.

Best Film Parody: The Quirkducers

Not only is this episode clever in the way it uses its source material, but the family all have moments to shine despite the stars being Louise and Gene. The show also makes good use of the Schoolhouse Seven (the main group of the Belcher Kids, Jimmy and Zeke, and Tammy and Jocelyn), and each of them brings something great to the episode. It undoubtedly earned its place in the top 10, and will likely hold its place for years to come.

#bobs burgers #Bob's Burgers #belchers #the belchers #bob belcher #Linda Belcher #gene belcher #tina belcher #louise belcher #seymores bay

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 5 years ago

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Alternative Action

I was feeling creative but I hit a brick wall with my other works, so I let @horsegirl1h pick out some prompt ideas for me!

Summary: You and Arthur get into an argument over your disregard for his request, and find a creative way to let off some steam.

Warnings: rough sex, slight D/S undertones, little bit of overstimulation

A/N: Aftercare is important!

The strong smell of whiskey wafted across your face, mixed with the rancid odor of the man’s personhood radiating off him. He had you pinned up against the wall in the alley, your wrists pressed uncomfortably tight on either side of your head. You attempted to keep your breathing even as his filthy mouth breathed on you.

“Yer r-real pretty,” the man growled drunkenly in a heavy Irish accent. “Better take ya with me…that way the rest of us have a piece o’ ya.”

You said nothing, keeping your face as calm as possible despite your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Struggling would only cause him to overpower you more.

He stuck his face to your neck, breathing in deeply. “Smell so nice too…” he pressed his body to you, clouding your senses with every tangible revolting feature of himself. You held your breath, swallowing a bout of nausea that overcame you. He smelled of an outhouse.

“HEY!”

The new voice called to both of your attention, and you saw a figure standing at the end of the alley, his face shrouded in darkness but you recognized him immediately.

With the momentary distraction, you brought your knee up to your opponent’s groin. He howled in pain and released you instantly, bending over. You launched yourself away from him, heading toward the silhouette with no hesitation. In the blink of an eye his hand raised, the glint of a revolver shining in the golden lamplight behind him.

He cocked the hammer back and pulled the trigger. You flinched as the shot pierced the air, your ears ringing. A second later the unmistakable THUD of a body sounded behind you. You needn’t glance back to know what had just happened.

And when you skidded to a halt in front of him, you needn’t look at his face to feel his anger.

“Let’s go.” He growled, turning on his heel toward the horse that stood waiting in the street. He mounted swiftly and held his hand out to you.

You hesitated. “But, my horse –”

“We ain’t got time.” He grumbled. “Get on now.”

---

The ride back was painfully quiet. Even with your arms wrapped around him, Arthur was tense the entire time. You could only assume the words he would have to say to you. You weren’t sure whether to speak up or wait until the two of you got back to camp.

Your mental question was answered when he veered off into the trees, coming to an abrupt stop. You’d just crossed the border into Lemoyne.

“Arthur?” You spoke timidly. “This ain’t camp…”

“We’re stoppin’ here for now.” He said shortly. You removed your arms from around him as he dismounted.

You didn’t ask why, but somehow you knew you were in for an earful. You slid off the back of his horse, biting your lip in anticipation. He faced the full moon, his entire figure tensing in the silver light. You watched as his thick hands flexed and curled. He took a deep breath.

“I asked you to stay in camp.” He spoke, his voice low.

You swallowed, releasing a shaky breath. “I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I just wanted to run to Valentine for a quick errand and –”

“And you nearly got yourself kidnapped!” he hissed, turning around to face him, his eyes glinting ferociously. “What errand could you have possibly wanted to do to risk your life like that?”

Despite your stomach churning with anxiety, you kept yourself from quaking. It was just days after the successful Valentine bank heist, however most of New Hanover was crawling with lawmen. He saw through your flimsy excuse immediately. “I…I heard Sean talking to Lenny about a possible lead. Unfortunately that lead is a regular in the Valentine saloon.” You answered.

“’Course Sean would…” Arthur growled to himself, pinching his nose between his fingers. “That still don’t give you an excuse to go, Y/N! You know every goddamn policeman in New Hanover are out lookin’ for us right now!”

“I know, I know,” you groaned, turning away from him to pace. “But – damn it Arthur, I get bored in camp. You know this! I can’t just sit around and twiddle my thumbs all day!”

“So instead of stayin’ in Lemoyne, you risk your neck n’ ours by goin’ back to Valentine?” he snarled. “What in God’s name was goin’ through your head?”

“I thought…I thought that I could get away with it!” you exclaimed. “Didn’t seem like a big job, something real easy to slip in and out of.”

“And yet to manage to find the only damn O’Driscoll in the joint!” Arthur snapped, throwing his arm in exaggeration.

“Well how was I supposed to know?” you argued. “Guy was so drunk he couldn’t even stand up straight!”

“Ain’t drunk enough to keep his hands off ya! Who knows what else coulda happened if I –”

“If you didn’t show up? I would have handled myself, Arthur!” you interjected, angered that he would even suggest such a thing. “You know that very damn well!”

“That still don’t make it okay for you to go n’ pull a stupid stunt like you got somethin’ to prove!” he yelled. “Jesus, Y/N! Sometimes you act like a child!”

“Well forgive me for wanting to do more!” you countered, throwing your arms in the air. “You risk your life every.day, Arthur. How is doing this any different?!”

Arthur stared at you incredulously, as if he was in blatant disbelief of the words that just spilled from your mouth. He stepped closer to you, his thick body appearing absolutely menacing. “I’ve been at this long enough to know when somethin’ ain’t worth doin’!” he bared his teeth, speaking through them with force.

You held your ground. As frightful as he was at the moment, Arthur could never truly scare you. You glared at him defiantly, your hands gripped so tightly into fists that your fingernails were digging into your palms. “Well it’s done anyway! I got the information I wanted regardless!”

“By bein’ –” Arthur stopped abruptly, turning his head away with an angered huff.

“By being what, Arthur? Stupid?” you demanded. “Is that how you see me? Because if it is, you might as well just say it!”

He snapped his attention back to you. “’Course not, Y/N! You ain’t stupid, but you’re reckless and irresponsible! I can’t always chase after you to make sure you don’t get killed!”

“I didn’t ask you to come after me!” you shot back.

“How many times have I saved your ass, Y/N?” Arthur countered. “More times than not I gotta –“

“Like I said, I didn’t ask.” You growled. “I’m NOT a child, Arthur. Stop treating me like one!” you turned around and stomped away.

“Where are you goin’?” he called after you.

“Walking back to camp!” you yowled, too angry to even turn around to answer him properly.

“Don’t be crazy, Y/N. We ain’t nowhere near camp yet!” he responded. You heard the underbrush crunch under his boots as he jogged up.

You hastened your steps, attempting to place more distance between you and him. “I’d rather walk than spend another SECOND speaking with you, Arthur.” You spat.

You heard him pause as your words hit him. At any other given moment you would have apologized, however you were too angry to really care at the moment. You skirted around his horse and made a beeline for the main road.

“Stop!” he shouted toward you. Within seconds he was in your path. “Y/N!”

You attempted to sidestep him, until his arms wrapped around you, promptly halting you in your path.

“Arthur!” you yelped, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp. “Let me go!”

“I ain’t lettin’ ya wander off alone, Y/N!” he argued. “You can be pissed at me all you want, jus’ come back to camp with me.”

You’d managed to move your arms, shoving your hands against his chest to free yourself. With his larger and stronger frame, you only managed to force him to stumble back a step or two, just enough for him to release you. You panted heavily, staring wide-eyed at him. His partially opened shirt was slightly disheveled, the skin underneath nearly glowing in the moonlight. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his face a touch reddened.

Somehow, your mind had gone elsewhere in the fraction of a second.

“Now we can please –”

He never finished his sentence. You’d launched yourself onto him, crashing your lips to his in a heartbeat. His entire body stiffened completely in surprise for a few full seconds before his arms wrapped around you – to pull you back. Your eyes swiveled to meet his as his hands settled on your waist gingerly.

“What’re you doin’?”

Your hands rested on his chest, curling your fingers to ball the fabric in your palms. Your mind was spinning too fast. “Don’t speak, just kiss me!” you huffed, pulling yourself to meet his mouth again. His noise of surprise was muffled. He just stood there as if unsure what to do.

And so you helped him, pressing your body to his and rolling your hips against his torso. A small, choked groan rumbled in his chest as he finally responded to your advances, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. His lips moved with yours, forcing them open. His heated breath mixed with yours as his tongue began to explore your mouth.

Your hands moved along his chest to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. You pulled off his suspenders, the tight bands constricting his torso from freedom of the fabric. He shrugged them off completely. Only a short moment passed when the strain of his pants became pronounced against your thigh. It only heightened your arousal as you brought your knee up to rub it against him.

He hissed into your mouth, his hips immediately bucking forward in yearning for more friction. You obliged by pressing your knee ever so carefully with more pressure. Despite the low moan he released, his own hands moved to your face, cupping your cheeks to pull from your mouth again.

His intense gaze met yours as he attempted to catch his breath. Beneath the lust that stood prominent, a moment of clarity shone through. “Y/N – why?”

“Do you wanna keep fighting?” You quickly asked, your voice slightly disjointed.

He didn’t answer you, his blue eyes smoldering brightly in the moonlight. The tense line set in his jaw told you he still held some frustration. He opened his mouth, though no words came out. Instead his hand slid to caress – no, grip your neck and yank you back in for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. A growl resonated deep, nearly animalistic in nature. His other hand fumbled with your shirt, nimbly working the buttons free of their confinements. The heat of his skin radiated through the thin fabric of your chemise.

His rough, calloused fingertips briefly slipped underneath to run along your stomach. A cold touch that made you jump slightly in surprise. He paid no mind to it as he worked on your jeans next, the heavy fabric falling to your ankles. You kicked them off along with your boots, only to lose your balance. Arthur grabbed you last minute and eased you down to the ground below. You didn’t object, peering up at him as he towered over you with a hungry glare. It sent a shiver down your spine.

He gripped your underclothing and tore them off with ease, exposing your naked body to him. He growled at the sight, pulling his fingers roughly across your breasts and down your abdomen to rest on your inner thighs, forcing them apart. Two fingers teased your slit, sparing no time in finding his target.

You tilted your head back, sighing out your pleasure while his feverish touch worked you. His fingers were rough, arrhythmic, unlike his usual calculated ministrations. He rubbed so hard that it nearly hurt, and you squirmed underneath his grip.

“Arthur –” you uttered breathlessly, reaching to grab his arm with a near vice grip.

He eased up ever so slightly, drawing out more pleasure than pain. He leaned over you, his heated breath tickling your ear. “Do you like it when I touch you like that?”

“Yes, God yes…” you moaned in response, your back arching to his touch.

“Louder.” He hissed into your ear.

“Yes!” you squeaked.

His other hand snaked up to grip your breast, squeezing the malleable flesh in his palm before pinching your nipple. “Louder.” He demanded.

“Yes, oh God Arthur, yes!” you shouted out, uncaring of your volume at the moment. A lewd squeal slipped past your lips once his fingers pushed into your entrance.

“Good girl…” he murmured before attaching his lips to your neck. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin with a sweet sting, ensuring he would leave his marks. His hand pumped in and out of you furiously, curling them to drag against your spot, prompting you to nearly scream.

“You drive me insane…” he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. His thumb pressed against your sensitive button of nerves. “You need to be punished, girl.”

Good Lord, you’d never heard Arthur speak to you like that before. Your face erupted in a deep blush, though you couldn’t even grace him with a proper answer as he wrenched a loud moan from you. An all too familiar sensation washed over you with your oncoming climax. Quick like a tidal wave, gripping every inch of your body as you trembled beneath him, calling his name out to the stars.

Once the last of it ebbed away, he pulled his hand from you, prompting you to whine in wanting more of his touch. He chuckled at your reaction, leaning back to unbutton himself free from his restraints. He stroked his length a few times, teasing you of the sight before he grabbed your legs, pushing them up by your head, stretching you in a way you hadn’t experienced before. His swollen tip prodded your entrance before he inched himself in. Your inner walls barely had time to accommodate before he slammed himself the rest of the way.

And thus begun his relentless fucking. He pounded into you over and over, wrenching out a cry from you. In this position you had nothing to hold, nothing to ground yourself from the way he abused your body. He stared down at you with a gaze so hot that you had to turn your head away, only to have his hard grip on your jaw.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he growled to you. “I wanna see your face.”

You obliged, answering with a broken whimper while fire coursed through your veins. “A-Ar –” you struggled to huff out, your hands gripping and tearing at the grass beneath you. “Fuck!”

“Look at you, too flustered for words,” he continued, his own voice slightly wavered while he piledrove you. “You deserve this, don’t ya?”

“Y-yes!” you whined, wincing as another orgasm was fast on the rise.

“Yes what?”

“I d-deserve this!” you mewled, groaning as your second climax erupted within you. “I deserve to be punished!” you uttered breathlessly.

“Yes you do.” He grunted, the hard look on his face faltering briefly as his own pleasure overtook him. “Goddamn…”

He suddenly pulled out, leaving you empty for a short second as he flipped you onto your stomach, bringing you up to your hands and knees. His hands greedily found purchase on your hips before he burrowed into you again, allowing no chance to recover. Furious waves of pure pleasure overtook you as you dug your fingers into the dirt, yowling out like a wild animal.

His grip on you tightened, hard enough to leave bruises. Somehow his thrusts become even stronger, fucking you so intensely you felt tears in your eyes. You blinked them away, allowing the pain to turn into more ecstasy. One hand left your hip to grip your hair, wrapping around his hand to pull your head back. You gasped, though it only heightened your arousal. His name passed your lips over and over, crying out wantonly.

His other hand soon released your hip, sliding around to your front to once again toy with your clit. With his rough grip he kept your ass flush with his hips, using the leverage to his advantage to force himself further. You trembled from head to toe, each sensation filling you up to build to your third.

“C’mon, princess. I know ya got another in ya.” His voice held command in it. Somehow it took hold of you, rushing you over the edge.

You’d squeezed around him tightly, releasing a yowl that seemed detached from your body. With a build and cascade more explosive than your first two, your entire being absolutely spent, your muscles and bones reduced to jelly.

And yet you couldn’t even get away. The overstimulation had you wriggling helplessly in his grasp, puffing out small whimpers and pleas for his release. “A-Arthur – please…” you groaned, tears beginning to fall as you stared up at the sky, your head locked in place.

He released your hair and raked his nails down your back, the sting making you flinch and shudder harder. Your arms collapsed underneath you, and your cheek rested against the cool ground beneath you. “Will you behave?” he questioned, his voice still low and dominating.

“Y-yes.” You mustered up as loud as you could. “I-I will!”

He groaned at your words, returning his hands to the curve of your hips to pull you back against him, driving himself in deep over and over in selfish pursuit of his own pleasure. You kept yourself still, enduring it for just a few short moments before his hips broke rhythm, his thrusts becoming shallower and shallower until he finally pulled out. His hot cock slid between your cheeks before you felt the trails of his seed paint your back.

You sighed in relief, your lower body collapsing to the ground, the cool grass and soil felt nice against your hot skin. The air was silent, only graced by the quiet attempts of the two of you catching your breaths.

You heard Arthur shift from behind you, the grass crunching as he groaned tiredly. Your heard turned to see him, his face red and his skin illuminated with a sheen of sweat. He’d flopped back into the grass, his large chest heaving up and down.

You pushed yourself up, though every muscle protested in you doing so, a subtle tremble wavering your body. You would be sore tomorrow. His eyes locked to yours, and you noted a softness in his face.

“You alright?” he breathlessly asked, gone was the beast of a man that had you just moments earlier. It was an entirely new side that you’d never experienced before.

“Fine,” you murmured, your mind still spinning from how rough he was. “I think…”

He sat up, a sense of urgency overcoming him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” his voice riddled with concern.

You shook your head. “Not at all…it was just…a lot.” You muttered.

He pursed his lips as his eyes scanned you up and down, as if to survey for any damage. “I took it too far…” he sighed, ducking his head sheepishly.

“No,” you immediately rebutted. “It’s just a lot, that’s all. You ain’t ever done that to me before.” You reached out to gently lay your hand against his cheek.

Your touch prompted him to slowly look back up at you. He didn’t answer at first, a full moment passing before he opened his mouth. “Ain’t ever had ya while angry before.” He murmured.

“I know,” you said with a small chuckle. “But I think it did us both good. Are you still angry?”

“Nah,” he gave a chuckle of his own. “But don’t go thinkin’ you can run off jus’ to get me to do this again. Bad enough I had to chase ya halfway across New Hanover.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hand from him. “Still didn’t ask you to come after me.”

He sighed heavily, giving you a dry look. “Are we gonna do this again?”

No, one round was enough. And the fatigue had sunken its hooks into you, further muddying your subconscious. You wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself in a pelt back at camp and sleep.

“You sure you’re okay?” he spoke again.

You’d realized your eyes closed, and you pulled them open to look at him. “I’m fine, Arthur. I’m just…really tired after that.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the expression telling you he didn’t truly believe your words. He sat up further and reached toward you, his hands now gentle on your waist. You didn’t object as he pulled you closer, though pausing to retrieve his bandana out of his pocket to wipe away the mess he left on your back. He then tossed it aside and pulled you fully into his embrace.

You practically melted in his arms, his warmth encompassing and comforting you. Everything that happened earlier dissolved into what seemed more like a distant memory now.

“I love you, as much as you drive me nuts.” He murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You giggled slightly, tiredly, smiling as your eyes closed once again. “I love you too.” You sighed.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut

285 notes · View notes

artxyra · 5 years ago

Text

Ashes

Note: So yeah the ending suck, I couldn’t find the right way to end it, but for the most part this seems decent. I might rewrite some of this in the future and finally, update some of my other works. Also a creative slumber sucks when all you wanna do is write but nothing seems to work.

Insp. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Us0y6scOtyw

Everything was loud. Every voice rumbles at each word they spoke. She could feel the hot tears rolling down her cheeks as her vision blurs into nothing. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud, beating frantically. Her breathing became non-existent.

“How could you, Marinette.”

She didn’t do it.

“Marinette, I’m so disappointed in you. You’re supposed to set an example.”

For what, how can someone be an example when no one follows them. This isn’t her job as the class president but your job as the teacher.

“You’re our everyday Ladybug.”

She doesn’t want to be. It’s bad enough she’s Ladybug in real life, away from all this.

The yells continue to get louder, her body begins to rapidly shake. No one is there to comfort her.

“You’re nothing but a bully!” They shriek, “How can you…”

Their voices merge into the same sound. Blame, disappointment, anger. Gripping her hair, her pigtails become loose, allowing her hair to cascade down her shoulders.

She could see nothing, only white. The noises become muffled. She involuntary pushes away any movements towards her.

“Cā liàng, I’m Hawkmoth. These people are beneath you.”

His voice, smoothing, pulling her towards her darkest desires.

“I’m giving you the power to burn those that have wrong you. All I ask is that of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous.”

“As you wish, Hawkmoth.” The whisper off of her lip cause mass panic. She could feel the change of her outfit. From her regular outfit to a black bodysuit with pink and purple flames outlining the pantlegs. Her hair becomes actual flames, flickering with every movement she makes.

I could hear the signs calling out from the bottom of the fire.

Opening her eyes for the first time since her meltdown, she welcomes the view of her classmates cowering in the corner. She blows a raspberry and walks over to them.

“Marinette!”

“I’m not Marinette, I’m Cā liàng, and you will all bow before me.”

Lila is the first to be surrounded by fire. The flames didn’t burn the poor Italian migrant, but they did scare her into fainting. Alya and Mme. Bustier cries to comfort her, to make sure she’s okay.

“You always listen to her. You listen to her and threw me out like yesterday’s trash.” Cā liàng screams, tears streaming down her face. The flames surrounding the room grows in size.

Soon the fire alarm goes off allowing the students to run for freedom.

The flames died down, but only to grow with Cā liàng loud screech.

She stands alone in the classroom, she could hear the outcries of other students ranging from confusion to terror. With a flick of her wrist, the windows shatter sending a heatwave.

I am like a torch flickering in the wind as the saying goes

Cā liàng flies out of the classroom only to oversee the crowd of students gather in front of the building. Akuma alerts screech to life.

“Now, now, people, all I want this the miraculous and the students of Caline Bustier. You have wrong me for way too long. I want my freedom.” Cā liàng states to the gather of citizens.

“Marinette!”

Cā liàng turns around to see Chat Noir, standing battle-ready. His baton facing her as he readies to attack her. Cā liàng dodge, calling for her flames to do her bidding.

“That’s cute, kitty. But you’re going to need more than a baton to defeat me.” Cā liàng turns to send a kick to Chat Noir’s stomach. He lands into her building.

“Someone save my baby!”

You didn’t take her side when she needed you the most.

“Sugarplum, please don’t let Hawkmoth win.”

She not stupid. Hawkmoth is the least of her problems, he’s just an out.

Cā liàng sends her flames towards the streets. Not burning her subjects but to freeze them in place.

Far away, Tikki is flying in search of a temporary Ladybug.

“Master Fu, we have a major problem. It’s Marinette.” Tikki on the verge of a breakdown falls to the ground. Wayzz flies to comfort his comrade.

Fu thinks about this, he only knows as much as Marinette when it comes to her allies. Who could take on the mantle of being Ladybug?

“Wayzz, Tikki, the Tsurugi girl.”

Tikki turns to Wayzz and nods.

“I can find her.”

“Good now hurry before Marinette does something she’ll regret.”

Tikki, finding a new source of strength, nods, and flies through the walls of the small building.

“Master, do you think she’ll be ready.”

“We have prep for this, Wayzz, it was only a matter of time.”

The two fall into silence.

Lost all my precious

Cā liàng, still engaging in a heated battle with Chat Noir, toys with him. Stopping his own mid-kick, she pulls him closer and whispers:

“She’ll never love you.”

Her flames surround him tighten with her fist. Soon, Chat Noir was knocked out causing an outroar among the crowd.

“Marinette, how could you?” Simultaneously, her class cries out seeing her.

How could you? Is that all they say when she does something. It’s like a broken record being on repeat.

“Cā liàng, get me the miraculous.” His voice echoes with anger. She grips her head only for the flames to cover buildings.

Rage ate me up

Tears swell in her eyes.

“Marinette,” She turns to see Chat Noir, coughing up blood. He holds onto his side using his baton as leverage. “Marinette this isn’t like you…” He holds out his arm for her to take.

Memories of the past months’ skyrockets towards her.

Almost getting expelled.

Being left out of gatherings.

Constantly being asked to do things she never wanted to do.

Her good nature being taken advantage of.

The flames grow more in size as she lets out a cry like no other.

“NO!” She screams as a familiar yo-yo string wraps around her.

“Cā liàng, your evil doings is no more.” Everyone turns to the figure that looks very similar to Ladybug.

Cā liàng shakes off the string and sends columns of fire towards the Ladybug themed hero.

“I won’t go back to being naive, kind-hearted Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I want them to burn.”

“You don’t want that. Remember those that haven’t wronged you. Those that care for you.” The Ladybug replacement says coming closer to the akumatized victim.

“You don’t understand!” Cā liàng cries out surrounding herself with her own flames.

When the flames disperse, Cā liàng was no longer there.

The temporary Ladybug gasps, searching for her opponent only to turns to help Chat Noir.

“Do you need to de-transform?” She asks after thoroughly examining the wounded hero. He shakes his head.

“We need to save her.” He winces as he moves.

She pushes back, “We can’t if your wounded, Marinette is the most strong-willed person I know and I doubt that this will be the end.”

Endless forlornness has made me numb

Standing on top of the Eiffel Tower, Cā liàng skips around. Pain crosses her face as she grips her head. His voice rings in the back of her head. Wrapping her arms around her torso, her nails dig into her arms.

Tears threaten to leave her eyes.

Has the not feeling pain really become something of second nature to her? All the time she withholds herself from feeling negative emotions.

“Cā liàng.” He wants her to do something she’s not capable of. Not because of her good nature but because she knows the truth. Her body captivated by the boost of power he had endorsed her with wants nothing more than to obey.

“No!”

I'd rather rise from here

Her flames surround her once more creating a sphere of pink and purple.

A massive heatwave hits Paris, France.

People sweating off their clothes runs to hide in either shame or embarrassment.

From the Eiffel Tower, the sphere only grows in size. In the center is Cā liàng letting of her anguish cries.

The temp. Ladybug swings with her yo-yo to the scene, keeping her emotions in check hidden from the world. She tries to break through into the spear. No luck.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” The temp ladybug calls out. Only for a guitar pick to fall down to her hands.

“Luka?” She questions looking between the growing sphere and the pick. “Of course.”

Swinging the yo-yo back down, the temp. Ladybug runs off in the direction of a familiar houseboat.

Or should I hold on to my past?

Luka, with a somber look, stares out of his window. Something wasn’t right, he knew that everyone in Paris knew that, but the odd feeling isn’t leaving him.

“Luka!” A familiar voice screams out.

“Ladybug?”

“Yes, no, yes, look Marinette needs you. I believe you’re the only one that can get through to her.” She states staring the blue-haired dyed older teen in the eyes.

Luka didn’t need any more convincing. With a nod of his head, the two rushes off the boat.

In the sphere, Cā liàng is reliving her worst fear. The fire exits through her body, creating a ring as images of her past appear within the rings. Tears stream down her cheeks as she watches.

From Adrien telling her to ignore Lila and don’t expose her to her parents giving her disappointed stares. Everything feels real.

“Marinette!” Familiar voices call out to her.

Unbeknownst to Cā liàng, columns of fire spread across the streets of Paris.

They've burnt to ashes

Faded to grey

The images turn into ashes.

Cā liàng opens her eyes and takes a deep breath. Turning around, she is faced to faced with Ladybug and Luka, Chat Noir nowhere in sight. She smirks at the two and lowers herself away from the duo.

“You’re too late,” Her voice echoes deeper than what they had expected. She turns to face the downfall of Paris and sees that ashes of buildings, bodies frozen in soot, the glowing of the sunset soon illuminated over the city of love.

Temp. Ladybug swings her yo-yo...

Cā liàng doesn’t dodge it, allowing the yoyo to wrap around her. The sphere behind her moves hovering over the Eiffel Tower.

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug calls out.

“Cataclysm!”

The world goes dark.

Returned to the earth

Cā liàng feet touch the ground, as the explosion turns to flickering sparkles of dust. She looks up to the sky, Ladybug and Luka are staring down at the copy of Cā liàng. Her mission is clear, as she walks the familiar path towards the school grounds.

There in the middle of it is a frozen version of Lila Rossi. The liar lies on the ground with a sooted covered Alya and Caline Bustier beside her. Cā liàng walks closer and gently caress the teen’s face. Her eyes dead of emotion, but face strained with tears, she holds up her hand. A swirl of fire surrounds the liar, only to clear revealing the liar un-sooted.

“I forgive you.” Cā liàng whispers, “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill you.”

Lila, stares at the akumatized Marinette, “How can you? I destroyed you and this just tops the cake.”

Cā liàng smirks and bits her lip. “And if I were to end you now, who would they blame?” A fire goes ablaze in her eyes all while forming fire beneath the one that has caused her so much pain.

With one mighty shriek, Lila cries out, “Ladybug!”

Yes it's meant to be

The battle was fierce, but tiresome for everyone. With Lila nearly dying by the hands of Cā liàng, nearly traumatizing Marinette in the process. Ladybug had to work quickly as she knew this will only mentally damage Marinette if she were to go through this.

“Marinette!” A spark of hope raises when the akumatized item sparks. Luka was the only one close to the two when spark appeared.

Without hesitation, Luka pulls Cā liàng causing her to lose focus, nearly burning him the process. Ladybug is quick to destroy the object.

Uncertain flame of hope I found

Will you lead me back on the right track?

Once the mist of the akuma faded away, Marinette falls into Luka’s arms. He holds her tightly humming a soft tune. The burnt marks fade away as the Miraculous magic revives those that froze and the buildings that turned to ash.

Reporters try to get the temporary Ladybug to speak about the hardship of taking down this akuma, only for her to glare and disappear into the sky and behind buildings.

“Luka,” Marinette soft voice pulls Luka out his tune and focus on the poor teen in his arms.

“I got you, Nettie.”

Marinette shakily nods and closes her eyes.

Permanent ML Tag List: @damianette-is-life

#akumatized marinette #promare inspired #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #artxyra one-shots #mildly salted #slightly angsty

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