#and then hopefully he'll be the POV for chapter 5

[sowoozoo-7]

Love, Lust & Litigation | Interlude - NYE (Namjoon POV)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+) whole fic, this chapter PG-13 (for language)

Warnings: some swearing in this chapter, nothing explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon. 

A/N: It's been a long time coming but here she is! The next installment of LL&L! This takes place in the middle of Chapter 5. More about it in the A/N at the end. Thanks for all your patience as I got over a bit of writer's block (and writer's unmotivation lmao). This is my first time writing a member's POV, so hopefully I did it justice!

As always, I’d love feedback if you have any! Enjoy ~

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6 | ch 7 | epilogue

Namjoon Kim doesn’t make New Year’s resolutions. 

It’s a stupid concept, in his humble opinion. Not only is it an arbitrary date to make a change, most people spend the first day of the new year recovering from the night before. Can anyone really make any progress toward their goals while nursing a massive hangover?  

No. If Namjoon wants to make a change, he’ll just do it. He won’t wait until Monday, or to the first of the month. He'll just do it.

Of course, if anyone asks if he’s made any resolutions, he’ll just smile and say “Oh, you know, the usual,” or some other noncommittal answer. His coworkers don’t need to know he thinks it’s a stupid concept. He hasn’t gotten to where he is today by ranting about the uselessness of New Year’s resolutions. 

This year, though, this year might be different.

He arrives late to Jimin’s New Year’s Eve party. Everyone at Jimin's fancy high-rise apartment is past buzzed and barreling toward black-out drunk, and here he is, newly arrived and sober. 

Before he can go in search of alcohol, Jimin finds him. 

“You’re late! Why are you late? It’s New Year’s Eve!” 

Some urgent thing at work kept him there. It seemed life-changing and super important in the moment, but as Namjoon opens his mouth to answer, for the life of him, he can’t remember exactly what it was.

Jimin flaps his hand as if to wave the question out of the air before Namjoon can think of anything to say. 

“Whatever. The more important issue is, you’re not sparkling!” 

The theme for the party is “Sparkle or Bust,” in reference to both drinks and outfits. Namjoon doesn’t make a habit of keeping spare sequined shirts in his office, so he’s in one of his work suits, sans tie and jacket. 

Several hours’ worth of alcohol dulls Jimin’s outrage at Namjoon’s failure to follow the theme and he hands Namjoon a bedazzled NYE tiara and a glass of champagne without further berating.

“There. Much better.” 

Jimin leaves as suddenly as he arrived. 

Namjoon stays on the periphery of the party, sipping on the champagne. He recognizes people from work and some of Jimin’s friends he’s met in the past, but they’re all involved in their own conversations. 

His gaze wanders from person to person, wondering if any of them made resolutions, if they’ve ever kept them. If anything has ever changed—actually changed—by making a resolution for the new year. 

If it’s even worth it to hope for a change.

He keeps looking and his eyes catch on a familiar figure across the room. Jungkook, wearing a ridiculous, shiny blazer that he has no business looking so good in. Namjoon’s stomach does a little flip as he notices, not for the first time, how Jungkook’s shoulders fill out the blazer, broad and strong. He’s talking with Taehyung, Jimin’s roommate, a tall eccentric whose family owns half the city.

The crowd shifts, and Namjoon’s stomach flips again when he catches sight of you, looking increasingly irritated at the conversation between the two men. Now you’re rolling your eyes, annoyed at something they’ve said. 

Namjoon’s eyes follow you as you yank the sliding glass doors to the balcony open. Before he knows it, he’s making his way to the door, murmuring his apologies as he tries not to bulldoze his coworkers out of the way. 

Before Namjoon can reach the door, Jungkook is already there, round eyes apologetic and pleading as he slips out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. Namjoon stops in the middle of the crowd. 

He’s too late. 

Again. 

He tips the contents of his champagne glass down his throat. It’s not enough to quiet the self-loathing, but enough to carry him to the glass door and peer out onto the balcony. 

You’re looking up at Jungkook, something like disappointment on your face. He has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the bare skin to warm you up in the cold. Your expression softens. You’re forgiving him for whatever transgression he has committed. 

An ugly roil of feelings churns in Namjoon’s gut, a mix of jealousy, envy, and longing he doesn’t want to untangle. 

Regret, though, is what he feels the most. There were so many moments when he could have done something, anything, when he could have made his feelings clear to either, both of you. 

Yoongi pushed him to do something, to say something. Of course he did, what else are best friends for? But even though Namjoon saw want clearly written in Jungkook’s eyes, time and time again, he hesitated. Every time they touched, whether in passing in the office, or when they were working out together, Namjoon was so careful, so careful to not let his hands linger, even though all he wanted to do was feel the planes of Jungkook’s body against his, strong and muscular. Because it was inappropriate, because of Namjoon’s position, because he was Jungkook’s mentor. 

And then you showed up, beautiful, confident. Every time you won a case, you lit up the room, radiant, victorious. And all Namjoon wanted to do was crowd you against the elevator walls as you headed back to the office together. He wanted to know if you were as soft and pliable out of your clothes as you were hard and unyielding in the courtroom. Yoongi had more to say every time you and Namjoon were in his restaurant. But again Namjoon hesitated. 

And he was too late. All he has left is regret and unrelenting visions of both of you, soft and hard, next to him, on top and below him, wanting nothing more than the all-encompassing press of warm skin against skin. 

A loud bang pulls him back to the party. One of the ladies from IT tripped into the glass door beside Namjoon. He reaches out to steady her, his hand on her elbow. She blushes when Namjoon smiles at her, and she laughs it off, embarrassed.

By the time he turns back to glance out to the balcony, Jungkook has you wrapped up in his blazer and you’re both facing out to the city. 

Someone claps him on the shoulder, and he looks back to see Taehyung. “You look like you need something stronger than champagne.” 

A karaoke machine appears sometime before midnight. 

Namjoon has officially joined the ranks of the well and truly sloshed. Taehyung took him to the large pantry behind the kitchen, where Jimin had stashed the good bottles of whisky behind boxes of cereal, and he has gone back several times for a refill.

He doesn’t let himself get this drunk, not usually. He’s so careful, always so fucking careful, about how he’s perceived, about what he’s expected to do, how he’s supposed to act, as an adult, as a manager, as the hotshot lawyer people think he is. But the whisky warms his stomach tonight and blurs the edges of the sharp feelings deep in the pit of his stomach. 

Whoever is screeching at the karaoke machine needs to stop. He feels it in the base of his skull and it’s making the night all the more unpleasant than it already is. He can tell them off, of course he can. He’s the head of Litigation. 

He stumbles his way into the living room to make the horrible noise stop, but the song ends before he can get across the room. Thank god. He’s about to turn back to the kitchen to top up his glass when an angelic voice comes through the speakers. 

It takes a few blinks to focus his eyes. He eventually sees across the room that Jungkook has taken the mic, with Taehyung’s arms slung around his shoulders. 

They’re swaying as Jungkook sings “Leave The Door Open” by Silk Sonic. The rumble of the party quiets down. Someone whoops when he nails a high note. 

Namjoon leans back against the wall for support. It’s not the first time he’s heard Jungkook singing. He hums constantly in the office, but it’s only when he’s several drinks in and past the point of self-consciousness that he lets loose and really sings. His eyes are closed, not needing the lyrics, as he belts the song. 

A little sigh sounds next to him and he turns to see you, also leaning against the wall. Your eyes are soft for the man across the room, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Namjoon looks back at Jungkook, and those feelings he was trying to dam with alcohol come rushing back. 

“You’re lucky, you know?” 

He doesn’t even realize he’s spoken out loud until he hears your voice beside him.

“Lucky?” 

Fuck. He has to say something. Clarify? Does he owe that to you?

“Look at him,” he says, gesturing across the room with his glass. “He’s hot and talented and good at his job. Competent people are hard to come by.” Shut up shut up shut up Namjoon, you’re rambling. “You’re competent too.” 

“Thanks?” 

The song ends and the room cheers for one more. Namjoon keeps his eyes trained across the room as Jungkook queues up another song. He can’t look at you right now. You’re too close.  

"Don't be a manager. It's overrated," he says quietly. "Careers don’t fucking matter. You have that freedom still, to do whatever.” 

The next song starts, “Falling” by Harry Styles. A shiver runs down Namjoon’s spine as Jungkook starts singing. 

“Jesus, just listen to his voice.” 

“Boss, are you okay?” you ask, putting your hand on Namjoon’s arm. 

He closes his eyes at the touch, and at that fucking nickname. He hates it. Hates his role at work, his chronic overthinking. He fucking despises himself for the person he’s crafted himself to be, hiding behind a job title, too focused on what society tells him is success to chase what he wants now. 

He looks at you, finally, to see confusion and concern written all over your face. 

“I’m happy for you two.” He can hear the sadness in his own voice and it’s fucking pathetic. He goes to take a sip of his drink, but it’s empty. Again. “I really am. Truly.” 

You just look at him like you’re about to say something nice and sweet and heartbreaking. Fuck. He’s gotta get out of here. 

In his drunk haze, he doesn’t realize that you don’t follow him to the kitchen. 

Karaoke ends with everyone scream-singing some pop-punk song that Namjoon vaguely recognizes. 

It’s getting close to midnight anyway, so the party roars back into swing, bass thumping, people dancing in the living room in a crush of bodies. 

Namjoon stands against the wall, the empty drink glass in his hand, watching everyone else lose their inhibitions. Even drunk as he is, the vice grip of anxiety keeps him from joining the crowd, from letting loose, and letting his body move to the music. 

He spots you and Jungkook in the crowd, your back against his, eyes closed as you dance to the beat, both faces flushed with alcohol. Namjoon waits, anticipating… something. What exactly, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that this picture is incomplete. He sits on the outside, watching the two of you from afar.

Then it hits him. He’s used to it now, like breathing, like the sun rising and setting, your faces turning towards Namjoon like sunflowers face the sun. Always finding him in a room. How many times has he locked eyes from across the room with Jungkook, with you?

And now, you’re not looking at Namjoon. Neither of you are. 

As the countdown to midnight starts, Jungkook spins you around to face him. You laugh and join in counting with the crowd. 

3…

Namjoon holds his own countdown, waiting for either or both sets of eyes to find him on the edge of the crowd. 

2…

Jungkook’s arms wrap around you. 

1…

Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

Happy New Year!

You’re kissing and laughing, rejoicing in the new year. When Jungkook’s eyes open, they’re trained on your face, and you look back, eyes only for Jungkook. 

Something breaks inside Namjoon. He doesn’t even know who his envy is aimed towards. Does he want to be Jungkook, kissing you, or does he want to be in your place, cupping the back of Jungkook’s head? 

Things never change on New Year’s Eve, except this year, something has. 

He slips out of the party without anyone noticing. The sharp cold brings him back to his senses. Without the party in his head, he can breathe. He can think. 

His breath fogs up in the early morning air. Every inhale brings a cold clarity back to him. 

He knows what he has to do. 

A/N II: This scene was originally meant to take place in the middle of Chapter 5 from reader's POV. The more I worked on it, the more I struggled with it. The whole chapter was dragging and nothing I wrote was working, so I took it out. I think it improved the flow of Ch 5 and helped me finish Ch 5 a bit faster. It's still an important part of the story, and I think it worked better from Namjoon's POV. So before we head to the final couple chapters (!!!!) I really wanted to show how Namjoon's been feeling. (And my brain wouldn't let me work on Ch 6 until I finished this.)

I'm not gonna put a date on the next installment. It's still largely unwritten, but hopefully the momentum from finishing this helps with the draft for Ch 6. Thanks for your patience! Lots of forehead kisses for y'all 💕

[icdrawings]

Corpse puppet au

By @sketchquill

Chapter 5

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The living world

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Wally's pov

I felt the wind against my face as I opened my eyes seeing Gold starting up at the moon, their dress reflected the moonlight as the snow surrounded us 'they look magnificent' I thought before I started talking "I spent so long in the darkness, I almost forgot what the moonlight looked like" I started to dance around feeling enjoyment in a while, turning to my beloved "join me dear" I said as I reach my hand out for them. It took a moment for them a to accept it giving me a soft smile. We started to slow dance, our first dance was a bit... well it was rushed so I wanted to finally have a 'proper' slow dance with them in the moonlight, I couldn't be happier, not once have we broken eye contact. We got closer and closer and closer, our heads were touching as Gold placed their hand on my face as we kept getting closer before...

"GOLD!!!"

'DAMN IT' I internally screamed as we pulled back "Papa?" Gold said letting go 'nooooooo' I had to let them go "I'm sorry Wally I forgot, I should let Papa know about you, hopefully he'll like you" they let go of my hand "perfect" I said trying to hide my bitterness "please wait here, I won't be long" they said with a smile that made me melt "okay" I said as Gold walked away.

Once they were out of my site I fell to the gound and started having a tantrum about not getting my kiss.

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Gold's pov

I speed walk out of the forest to see that Eddie was about to walk in "GOLD!!!" Eddie saw me, rushing to give me a huge hug "oh my gosh Peaches! Thank God your safe! What happened?!" He said checking my face to see if I was hurt "oh, no, no I'm alright, but I must introduce you to someone" I said grabbing his hands gently "wha-what! So that rumor, the other man, that was true?!" He said shocked, looking like he needed to sit down "well... yes it was sudden but I would like for you to meet him" I said "gosh Gold really? me? but I ain't your real Father and I don't even know this man" Eddie said sadden, I gave him a hug "you may not be my biological Father but you are my Papa and that means you're my family so I would like for you to meet him, please" I said "gosh, really? kid you're gonna make me cry, you're too sweet, am I even gonna like this man?" he wiped a tear from his eye "you would love him" I said with a smile "okay, okay! when do I meet this fellow?" He asked with excitement "I'll introduce him but I need to talk to Howdy first" I said stern "the last thing I know is that he is at his home" Eddie said "thank you Papa now please go home, get some rest" we both walked the bridge "okay, okay your right Peaches, your right" he said as we got to the edge of the bridge "goodnight Peaches" Eddie said "goodnight Papa" we went our separate ways "wait!" I shouted at Eddie making him stop and looked back at me "Frank says he loves you too" I said before rushing off to the Pillar estate unknown that Eddie was shedding tears of happiness from the outburst.

I got to the Pillars estate and was about to knock but stopped when I heard the Pillars talking "if ever I see that Treasure kid, I'll strangle them with my bare hands" I heard Mr. Pillars say "your hands are too fat and their neck is too thin, you'll have to use a rope" Ms. Pillar said making me terrified, backing away from the door looking for another way inside. seeing a brick wall, I knew what I had to do and started to climb up.

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Wally's pov

"This is the voice of your consciousness, listen to what I say, I have a bad feeling about that person you know that Gold is no-" I smacked out Home out of my head and he fell into the snow "go chew someone else's ear for a while" I said with anger before continuing "Gold has gone to visit their Papa, just like they said" I continued "if I hadn't been sitting in it, I would have said that you have lost your mind!" Home said insulting me 'how dare this little' I calmed myself down "I'm sure they have a perfectly good reason... for taking so long" I said unsure "oh, I am sure they do, why don't you go asked them" Home snapped back "alright I will" I said ready to prove home wrong "after all, they couldn't have gotten that far with those cold feet" Home said. I let Home back inside my head and started to follow Gold's footsteps.

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Gold's pov

I finally got to Howdy's balcony and knocked on his glass door seeing Howdy turn and gasp before rushing to open it "hello Howdy" I said "Gold!? I'm so happy to see you, come by the fire" he said letting me inside to sit down "where have you been!? A-are you alright!?" He asked frantically before grabbing my hand "you're cold as death, what's happened to you" he said before looked me over "your hair!" He said as one of his hands reached out to touch it but I backed away "H-Howdy... I need to confess something" I said as he retracted his hand, I looked down not wanting to look at him at all, just what I have been doing from the very start only to look up when i felt him holding my hands lightly "no let me confess, this morning I was terrified of marriage, but then, on meeting you, I felt... I should be by your side and that our wedding could not come soon enough" he confessed taking me by surprise, shocked but guilty, I pulled my hands away still refusing to look at him "H-Howdy I... I don't-" I tried to figure out what to say, heard something outside, I looked out the balcony, surprised to see Wally we both made eye contact before he came in being loud and joyous "my darling, just wanted to meet..." Wally finally noticed Howdy, who stood up from the loud sounds while I remained seated. Wally stared at Howby, not with one of his warm gaze, no, it was as similar to a predator staring down its prey, Wally kept his hand held out towards me as he remained unmoved in this imaginary staring game, I finally stood up and made my way towards Wally while Howdy tried to reach out to me "who is he!?" Howdy said breaking the silence, watching me grab the corpse hand "I'm their husband" Wally said with anger as he showed off his ring "Gold!?" Howdy question not understanding.

I hugged Wally, burying my head in his chest, feeling the comfort, the same comfort from when I first met him. Wally held me tight "I'm sorry" I whispered trying not to cry due to the guilt I felt. Wally stared Howdy down with hatred "hopscotch" he muttered darkly, I held Wally tighter pulling us towards the balcony as crows surrounded us "NO! NO! GOLD!" I heard Howdy shout yet I couldn't look back only shutting my eyes waiting for all of this to be over.

I felt my feet on the ground, reopening my eye to see that we were indeed back in the library in the land of the dead, beinh harshly pulled off by Wally "you lied to me" he said angerily "I-I..." I stuttered "who was that other man!" his voice trembled as he pointed up " a-actually... the-the m... m-marrige was... originally b-between me and h-him so... that-that does m-mean you are t-the other m-man" I was never good with confrontation, I would either submit or cry but I was trying not to cry in front of Wally, I didn't want to look like the victim with Wally's misundstanding "NO! you're married to me! He's the other man!" Wally was crying 'mistake, you hurt someone again, useless, HEARTLESS' my mind was screaming at me, I couldn't focus at all, I wanted to talk to Wally but my mind wouldn't let me. My body shook a bit, Frank took notice but did nothing knowing that this is between me and Wally

"And I thought... I thought it was going so well" his tear gushed out causing his right eye to fall out, it rolled towards me as I picked it up and cleaned it off staring into it "I-I am sorry, so s-sorry... cou-could... this marriage e... even w-work?" I started to question "why not!?" he looked at his eye in my hand "it's my eye isn't it" he said insecurely make my heart twist in pain "no, not at all, your eye is lovely" I said grateful for that sentence to come out fluently before walking over to him and carefully placed it back in, making sure not to cause any further damage

he looked away "in d-different circumstances...maybe... b-but we are d-different I am l-living and y-you are d-dead" my stutter got worse as I tried to explain but couldn't due to panic, stress, and pain, pain for hurting him, I tried to calm down my breathing to focus better "you should've thought of that before you asked me to marry you" Wally said yelling and crying "I was p-practicing my v-vows... I-I didn't e-even know you w-were there s... so" I tried to explain "so I was... a mistake?" he said sounding empty as I look to see his eyes full of hurt and rushed out of the library.

I could only stare at the doors, the doors he walked out of, unaware that I was reaching out for him, unaware that I was crying, unaware that my throat swelled up and my feet couldn't stand, unaware that my teeth were biting my tongue, unaware that Frank was next to me after seeing my distress, unaware that he tried talking to me.

I felt warmth, a good warmth, a comforting warmth, I finally gasp "oh thank the gods, you terrified me little one" I look to see Frank hugging me "... I'm... sorry" I said as he started to let go and grabbed my hands "look, I may not know what exactly happened but something tells me that you wouldn't hurt him, not on purpose" he said gently rubbing my hands with his thumbs "right now you both need to calm down before talking again" he said "oh, okay... thank you" I said "how about you go on a walk, recollect yourself and your thoughts" he let go of my hands "I... I think I will, thank you Frank" I walked out of the library and started making my way towards the unknown, as a certain bird was near by.

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Jewel's pov

I was working on one the costumes for Sally's play when Poppy rushed in "oh hello Poppy" I said looking up from the skirt "Jewel dear your siblings is back!" she said "really how are they?" I asked excited to know how they were doing "oh dear I don't think they're doing well, I saw them crying" Poppy said concern "did you see where they were heading!?" I asked "down the street in think" she said as I rushed to the door "Poppy could you watch the shop please" I quickly asked "of course now hurry they need you" she nudged her feather for me to leave, I did running full speed to comfort my baby sibling.

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Chapter 6

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[amethystina]

I was casually rereading whtd, as one does, and reading the comments (because i love the extra insight you give about the information that we're limited to in Ga On's pov) when i stumbled upon this comment: "… sort everything out? (and no one dies along the way, hopefully) He'll be very happy for them." about lawyer Ko and that in combination with the "minor character death tag" has made me Extremele worried about him. (plus you have also said that the kidnapping tag is not the one we should be worried about!!) I know you probably can't say anything about this because of spoilers, but know that it has been noted!!

Also kind of want a scene wherein lawyer Ko, Yo Han and Ga On are all together. Their dynamic would be so exquisite!! (obviously no pressure to actually write this, just a thought)

Anyway, whtd remains so good even after already having read and reread it in its entirety at least 5 times (and some scenes/chapters much more than that) (my ao3 history says i've visited whtd 200 times… so uh. yeah. i'm normal). I love slow burn so much (to the point where most romance book leave me disappointed bc they MCs get together like 100 pages in), i just love reading/watching the build up of a relationship and you write it so well!

I guess i just wanted to thank you for writing! I hope you're doing well <3

I'm usually very careful not to spoil what's going to happen in future chapters but I'll make an exception this time and flat-out say that you don't have to worry — Lawyer Ko is not going to die. I would literally never forgive myself if I killed him xD Not to mention that you all would probably come for my head if I did. He's just too amazing to be killed off!

So, rest assured, he's not going to die :)

And there will be at least one scene with Ga On, Yo Han, and Lawyer Ko in the same room unless my plans change dramatically. Which they rarely do, but "rarely" isn't the same as "never" so we'll see. Truth be told, though, I'll probably try really hard to keep it because I totally agree — the dynamic would be SPECTACULAR. So yeah. Stay tuned for that, I guess? ;)

You've definitely read Who Holds the Devil more times than I have x'D At least in its entirety. I mean, I reread the chapters at least twice (often three or four times) but I rarely start from the beginning and read it all the way through. I did at the end of my long break last year to get back into the swing of it, but it's difficult to find the time for that since I always have to focus on the next chapter. Which is a bit stressful at times, I will admit, since it puts more pressure on me to remember things at the top of my head (or at least know where to look if I want to check any details) but I'm lucky enough to be blessed with a really good memory, so that helps.

Anyway, I'm so glad you're enjoying it 💜 I honestly didn't plan for the slow burn to be quite this slow when I started the fic, but I can't say I have any regrets. Much like you, I just enjoy it too much ;) There's something so incredibly satisfying about delving this deep into Ga On and Yo Han's feelings and slowly developing relationship. And I guess that's also why I can't help throwing out tidbits of information in the comments, since there's usually so, so much happening within this story that you readers don't see (especially within Yo Han's head).

And I'm still not sure how to handle the knowledge that some people read the comments specifically to find those tidbits. Like, I don't mind you doing so! Go right ahead! They're public and all that. But it kind of blows my mind that some of you are so interested in what I'm writing that you'll do that. It feels a bit surreal to me, but in a good way? Like I'm an ACTUAL writer or something xD

Anyway, thank you so much for this kind and supportive message 💜 I definitely needed it right now because things honestly aren't all that great. Partly because of overall exhaustion and restlessness — mostly due to work — but even more so since it's now been a month since I posted a chapter and the requests for me to please update soon are starting to come in. I swear, it happens like clockwork every time I don't post within a month. And, what makes it worse, is that it's often from people I don't see comments from when I actually DO upload more frequently. As in, they don't comment on the fic itself, only when they think I don't update fast enough. Which is pretty disheartening, not going to lie.

Tragically enough, once the month mark passes, I have to start bracing myself whenever I get a comment or ask because there's now a 50/50 chance that it'll be someone asking me to update soon. They usually try to be nice about it, but it kind of always fails.

So, again, thank you for this. Because while I know that I should take my time and update on my own schedule, it's not always easy to remember that when people start asking me why it's taking so long. This was a nice change of pace and I'm very grateful for your kindness. Thank you 💜

[ssmtskw]

Hello and welcome!

Replacing my pinned with a list of the stuff I've written for anyone checking my account out. Heh. Everything is sorted by fandom, and then word count! (And if there's something I should add to the tagging, please feel free to send me a message about it so I can make the edits.) Enjoy... hopefully!

RWRB

some part of me came alive - 10,979 words [college-ish AU, 5+1]

"Bye David." David's head snaps back to Alex's direction, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly you'd think it wasn't even there. Alex, having just removed his glasses again as he yawns once more, doesn't see it. David takes a couple seconds before slightly shaking his head, like he's just imagining something and is now actively wiping the thought away. He opens the door before he responds. "Bye Alex."

(Or: The five times Alex unintentionally calls Henry by his dog’s name, and the one time he does it on purpose.)

Francesca - 10,189 words [graphic depictions and references of violence/abuse/injuries]

Once, in a much worse place before all of this; Alex had worked for someone with one side of his office overflowing with books. He'd read all sorts of things there: Anatomy, selected works in philosophy, Oliver Twist, war hero accounts, law. Anything he could get a hold of in the dark, really. Among those books were a bible. There's a passage there that stuck— something he'd only read past but had barraged into the walls of Alex's mind three years ago, Book of Jeremiah, chapter 17, verse 9: The heart is more deceitful than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?

Love Songs in the Key of Liam - 8,152 words [Liam POV/centric, 5+1]

It's fucked. He's fucked — Liam, that is. There was no way this was going to work. Ever. What's the next worst thing to growing up closeted in a typically close-minded neighbourhood? Probably developing a crush on your best friend who lives in said neighbourhood. (Or: The five times love songs reminded Liam of his now estranged best friend, and the one time it reminded him of someone else.)

Terrible Things - 4,038 words [Hanahaki AU, hurt/no comfort]

"How long?" That, he can answer. "A year or so." He croaks out, not really wanting to strain himself any further.

water in my hands - 3,521 words [sickfic(?), has references to illness, hurt/no comfort]

It takes Alex a good amount of time to realise; sometimes love just isn't enough to keep the world going, even if he desperately wanted it to.

no question (he'll hold your heart if you let him) - 2,837 words [June POV/outsider POV, post-canon]

June doesn't think much about it at first, putting the box along the pile, but she belatedly realises what it is and gets an idea. A satisfied grin makes its way onto her lips when she finally finds it, an edition of Astrotalk that detailed star sign compatibilities. June doesn't open the magazine all the way to the Libra section, stopping short at someone else's instead. (Or: June finds a box that contained one of her teenage fixations and goes through it for old time's sake.)

Smoke Slow - 2,026 words [shotgun kissing oneshot basically]

“Hey.” Alex says, just for the sake of saying something, the silence between them wasn’t stifling but he didn’t want to risk their interaction coming to an end just because he’s not engaging enough. Henry gives him a sideways glance. “Teach me how to do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. The shotgun.” For a moment, Alex briefly considers how idiotic that probably sounded to Henry. It wasn’t a hard task to mimic, but Alex had long thrown out his composure out the fences of Pez’s house when Henry put the goddamn stick into his mouth. 

i'll be happy (just to have known you) - 1,855 words [hurt/no comfort]

Henry resigns himself to the reality that Alex—albeit distant and unattainable—still managed to break through his dismal world and grant him a light he never imagined was still possible to exist. This was enough. This was more than he'd ever expected for himself. It was the universe's way of extending an olive branch in response to the cards he'd been dealt with. He'd be stupid not to take it.

dreamy little you - 1,666 words [crack-ish AU, post-canon]

"Of course, love, but would you love yourself if you were a worm?" This visibly stumps Alex. If the way his mouth just opened for a rebuttal and coming up empty is anything to go by.

only got a hundred - currently at 4,008 words

An ongoing collection of 100-word drabbles written according to the Brownstone server's prompts.

Haikyuu

Ceilings (he thinks it's not real, it is) - 6,009 words [light angst and pining with a happy? ending]

“Yo, you sleepy?” Takahiro meant to say that no, he isn't. That Issei looks stupid with his hair messed up like that. That he should be asking Issei that, with the bags under his eyes speaking for themselves. Instead, what comes out is, “I miss you.” It would be so easy to take the opportunity now. But still, Takahiro is terrified of ruining things. Or: Takahiro has graduation blues, and Issei makes him feel better, but things don't just end there.

Bloom - 1,444 words [two-dialogue challenge oneshot, retrospective? angst/no comfort]

Matsukawa Issei is not much of a sentimental person, save for special occasions where he has no choice but to reminisce.

Cruel (what your mind can do for no reason) - 1,012 words [light angst/comfort, implications of dissociation]

Issei struggles through a bad mental health night, Takahiro breezes him through the tail end of it.

Shameless (US)

big guns out, shoot now - 3,257 words [first kiss oneshot]

It's kind of out of character for Ian, really, he's always careful about not blurting out or doing shit that tapped into his feelings on the brunette, around the very subject of his affections. Has been, in fact, for the last two years and counting. Not that it got any easier to maintain, there are always slip ups (Exhibit A: right here, right now), but that's solely his problem.

On the Off Chance - 5,780 words [soulmate AU, ongoing]

To say Ian was relieved when he hears Mickey confirm how he did not, in fact, get his soulmate mark just a couple days after coming of age would be a huge understatement. (Or: Soulmate marks only show up when the younger of the pair turns nineteen– which isn’t uncommon, to say the least.)

[soil-just-needs-water-to-be]

Chapter 22

Can’t remember the word count I publish it in Wattpad before noticing

Some smut in this one

This chapter takes place at the same time as George's just from Mattys perspective

Mattys POV

I didn't wake up too much that night, I was calm for once wasn't restless I just slept. I don't really remember what time it was that I went to sleep it wasn't to long after I called Ross though. I woke up to no alarm or Louis this morning though so my mum must have let me lie in. Bless her. I lay there in bed for around ten minutes really just staring at the roof relaxing in the quiet of the house just basking in it. Then I get up to roll a cigarette picking up my lighter from the bed side table then climb up onto my windowsill and smoke out of the window, slowly , watching the busy streets and people pass by, It so interesting watching people going about there normal lives , how many of them could be suffering but still just take the day head on you know. I drag out the cigarette and just enjoy the peace and people watching. When I'm finished is when I decide to see what my friends are up too. I open up Snapchat first off there's a few messages from Ross asking how I'm doing , if I'm going to school , then when he released I wasn't , just one saying he'll drop by later. I then spot a message from George and when I open it my mouth drops and I gasp "fuck me", he's shirtless ,

his hairs down, his arms look strong and his shoulder so broad I can't take my eyes away from my screen I happen to be staring even well after the picture has gone. I shake my head to get myself to concentrate a little I then feel some movement in my lower body and I left up the covers a little and see I have a semi "Wow that's not happened on it's own in a while" , I kind of don't really want to make it go away, it hasn't happened in its own in so long it's a good feeling. No if I talk to George he might be able to help actually might make it better so that's when I actually decide to reply even though it's been sat on opened for like 5 minutes now, I send off a cheeky little message that hopefully he understands that I'm letting him know I might be ready "

“That's not the best way to wake a man up G 🫠😉, I know I said it takes a while to get things going sometimes but stuff like that will surely work" , and really I usually does take so long now a days to get me worked up , I've been with a few girls in the past few months and they've really had to go for it the meds made it really difficult but that fact it's back to "normal" must mean Georgies doing something right. My hand trails down my body and stops at my waist and of my boxers and I'm kinda nervous about it I don't know why. But before I have a second to even do anything a message comes through from George "I hope you liked it" , bro I can guarantee I more than liked it, I want his help to fix it but I know he's on school and it's kinda upsetting BUT maybe messing with him at school might be a little fun and a little risky, I know what this lads like. So I just send another message back just of me in bed  "

More than satisfactory Darling ...but I may have to go sort myself out first before I chat yanno", my hand is now in my boxers and typing with one hand isn't the easiest thing to do but I'm going to do it if I have to. My other hand is just slowly rubbing myself slowly just releasing some pressure it feels good actually. His next snap comes through and he looks looks amazing as always all flustered and cheeks a deep tinge of red and I know he's trying to keep himself composed a little  " This is not the right place Matthew", oh trust me I know it's not but if I can just mess around for a little longer that would be fun. The fact he also called me Matthew in this instant send an jolt of excitement right through me, it makes me shiver a little bit. This time I try another tactic, I pull up the camera and flip it and take my hands from my boxers and pull the duvet down a little as I film it , sending it to him with a smile on my face then I quickly send another quick message after letting him know there's no sound so he's safe to play it but i captioned the video with

" You can't be seriously telling me you don't want to see", No picture message comes from his end this time and it's kinda s sad but all I get is a " Love you know I want too , but I'm in class right now", Fuck me man , I drop my phone on my bed and decide this needs to be taken to the shower because I don't want to make a mess of my bed sheets that's kind of embarrassing.

Once I've taken my boxers off I jump in the shower and let the water run warm the images of the other day came pouring into my head , this is when my hand lands back on my dick and I start to rub myself slowly savouring the moment a little , his little flustered movements trying to keep himself together, my head gets a little faster as I indulge the fantasy a little imagining if he had taken it further on the call this causes me to moan into the empty bathroom echoing through it and it's music to my ears. My brain travels to the images of George being flustered and trying to contain himself while at school trying to hide it from people around him "fuck" , as my hand gets faster I can feel my climax coming but due to the pills having messed everything up it hurts a little i hiss through my teeth as I try to push through it , and my climax comes not to long after. Once I'm done I start to actually wash myself down now. Turn the heat up and just relax in the shower peaceful again.

Once I'm done in the shower I wrap myself in the softest towel I own, No messages yet so I send off another picture to George " it would have been more fun if I had your input darling but Wow , that was very much needed ay", I go about just getting myself dressed for the day once I'm prepared I drop down on my bed again and pull my phone out "Sorry about that , anyway how are you?" , I know I can be alot and if he's not interested in me that could have been a bit much for him.

After sending that, I really want to ride some music so I trundle off to get my guitar and notebook and I get myself busy as I turn flip through my notebook and find lyrics that I'd been writing and there's a lot coming to me right now, bringing me back to that night

"Pause it , play it , pause it , play it , pause it"

"Oh my car smells like chocolate"

There was a lot going on that night, we did a lot of mad shit that night, someone was chasing up, we were height as fuck , and we were just messing us about, we'll I was she was trying to drive.

"Hey now, we're building up speed as we're approaching a hill"

Trying to get a melody to this will be hard but I swear it's going to be done. I get lost in the writing and I got so far George messages me back after a while. "you I'm alright love , my dad was doing my head in this morning so I'm a little iffy but I'm fine , how are you feeling?", Bless , family can be annoying sometimes , a reply doesn't come for a long time, but I'm not going to fuss him too much he's at school I can't expect too much but fuck unless I'm writing my mind will wonder and im getting reckless. We have a small back and forth about how we're doing

He replied a while later but it was just a blank screen saying that's he's proud of me for being okay but I'm more concerned about the blank screen

Is he okay ?

[mumblingsage]

1 and 3 for the WIP asks!

Give a 5-word summary of this chapter/fic

Chapter summary: "Catilyn's husband comes home, unfortunately."

Fic summary: "Imprisonment sucks; he gets better." Or maybe "Patriarchy sucks; they get better"? Or "Add a third, it'll help!" "Hurt/comfort that bisexual boy!"

(wow, 5 words isn't many for the whole story)

3. Who's your favorite character for this chapter/fic?

Ohh, I really cannot play favorites. I joke with myself that Nic is God's Favorite because he does a lot to drive the story in the right direction; Konstantin is God's Specialist Boy because he suffers so much and so prettily (really the entire reason there is a story); and Catilyn is God's Best Beloved because she does a lot that is interesting, sometimes surprising even me. I'm God for these purposes, of course.

In this opening chapter, Catilyn is the POV and there's a lot of reason to sympathize with her. She's been trapped in an arranged married for years, and suddenly this traumatized young man returns from the enemy castle where he's been held for ransom and she has to answer to him, and she has no way to predict what he'll ask of her. In the end he asks very little because he has far bigger concerns than being a husband (a role with very specific rights & duties in this culture), but he's in no state to address her fears - perhaps not even to notice that she has them - and she's not really in a state to help him. Neither of them wants to hurt the other but they're a long, long way from giving each other the consoling hugs that the reader will hopefully want to offer both of them.

[sabraeal]

don’t speak boyshit, Chapter 3

[Read on AO3]

After years of being teased on the playground, being called teacher’s little robot and flinching from the press of tiny fingers before they hiss, Inomata-san is cold as ice, it’s easy enough for Maria to believe she’s too reasonable, too unfeeling to be moved by casual wounds of the heart. But when it comes to the truth--

In truth, she spends the last lingering moments before the bell wiping the sting from her eyes. Her tears are hot, burning as they slide over her hands, falling in an endless drip like she’s a faucet someone’s forgotten, knob only half-turned. She wants to stop, she wills it to stop-- she’s not this girl, not the one who cares when boys are stupid, especially the nice ones who can’t even tell her a simple dessert-- but it won’t. 

For one breathless moment, it seems as if it never will. That she’ll just have to go to class and learn about integrals with shame searing tracks down her cheeks for all of 3-A to see. Yagi might even try to show her sympathy, and then all the girls in the room will sigh and simper, turning glares on her like she’s done it on purpose, and--

Her eyes dry up, like they’d never started at all.

Maria blinks up at the mirror, meeting her swollen gaze in the glass. There’s nothing to be done about that unless she wants to call Yuki up here and listen to her rattle off her seventeen surefire tricks to smooth skin and clear eyes. And since this involves Kashima-kun...

Well, Yuki may profess herself fully recovered from her years-long infatuation with him, but there’s no need to test her resolve. Maria can deal with her own feelings just fine on her own, thank you very much.

With a new sense of purpose, she steps out into the hall, striding through 3-A’s threshold...just as the passing bell chimes. Attention turns back to the front of the room, and she becomes the center of it, swollen eyes and all.

Ever the eager student, Yagi calls out, “Inomata-san, are you all right?”

Reflex is a hard animal to cage, but Maria likes to believe she’s gotten this beast’s reins at least. Not enough to keep her cheeks from puffing and flushing, but enough to at least keep her mouth shut. There’s no need to give that idiot any information when he’ll forgot about it as soon as she walks past, so long as she keeps it all to her--

“Oh.” Nezu tosses his head, a brief glimmer of his eyes surfacing beneath his bangs before they settle. “So it didn’t go well?”

Maria freezes, stuck in the aisle between her seat and his, and oh, if intensity could hone glares to a point--

“Not go well?” Yagi yips, twisting at his desk. “Were you trying to do something, Inomata-san?”

She drops into her seat, and with all the gravitas she can muster, she informs Nezu, “Sleep with one eye open.”

Although the introduction of limits and derivatives keep Yagi’s mind too busy to remember what’s best forgotten, Maria is not so fortunate. Oh, she follows the switch from definite integrals to the hundred poets, but while her pen scrawls her an academic lifeline, the rest of her brain is churning, a flywheel about to slip from its bearings.

Books have failed her. Yuki-- her one recourse in matters of the heart-- cannot be consulted. And even going to the source netted her nothing more than mushi pan.

Inomata Maria is at the end of her rope, and truthfully, she cannot find the will to climb. Maybe Mother is right; she can worry about boys after she gets a college degree. Even a PhD seems achievable next to Kashima Ryuuichi.

“Inomata!”

Her body jerks, a marionette with her strings pulled, all her limbs flailing to a halt. She’s standing, she realizes, her gaze fixed to the red stripe across her toe, drawn to the way it crossed the thin lines of the hall’s tile. The hall’s tile, because that’s where she is, the corridor littered with loitering students waiting for their clubs to start, or putting off room cleaning for one last thread of gossip.

The school day’s over, and she’s hardly noticed. Just let her feet point her toward her goal, which--

She glances up, then blinks. She’d rub her eyes too, if it’d make any difference. But it won’t, not when the truth all too plan to see: left to their own devices, her feet have carried her to 3-C.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, her cheeks burn. There’s no reason for it; this hallway is as much 3-A’s as it is 3-C’s, and if 3-C is in the exact opposite direction of the stairs, well, that’s no one’s business. And besides, it’s not as if Kashima is there; the clubs may not have started, but nothing so pedestrian as a clock could keep him from Kotaro, not when--

“Maria!”

She’s mid-pivot, feet aimed back toward the direction of the Home Ec room-- it’s not as if she has anything better to do than arrive early, perhaps set up for the visiting first years-- but Kawata’s deadpan gaze awaits her. “A-ah, you...?”

Kawata cocks her head, the sleek ribbon of her ponytail snaking over her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no!” Her hands wave between them, as if it might do anything to ward off her questions. “W-what would make you think that?”

“Well.” Kawata leans her hip against the classroom’s jamb, arms crossed. “You’ve been pacing in front of our door for the past five minutes.”

“Oh!” Of course she would so something so obvious, so awkward. “I was just on my way to the Home Ec lab--”

“And I’ve been calling your name for three of them,” she adds, a single brow raised. “So what’s going on?”

An impossible question to answer. Kawata maybe be Rena-chan in her contacts-- a change she demanded in second year, when she saw all their names were still written last name-first in their stodgy kanji-- but she’s still more Yuki’s friend than hers. They’re in the same class, have the same interests, and by Yuki’s account, have even gone out shopping together. How could Maria possible tell her that she had feelings for--?

“Kashima-kun isn’t here,” Yamane interjects brightly, squeezing into the doorframe behind Kawata. “If that’s who you were looking for.”

Maria stares. “I-I wasn’t--”

“Oh!” Yamane perks up, the steely gray of her eyes shining bright. “Are you going to try to steal the last of his warmth from the seat?”

“Wha-what?” Maria skitters back a step, face burning from hairline to collar. “I would never--”

“Don’t be stupid, Saki-chan.” Kawata shakes her head, the barest hint of a smile on her lips. “His seat’s already cold.”

“Oh.” Yamane’s mouth curves around the sound thoughtfully. “That’s right.”

“You don’t...?” Maria coughs, her gaze darting between them. “You don’t actually do that, do you?”

“Not often,” Kawata replies, just as Yamane pipes in with, “I sit in Kamitani’s seat all the time!”

Yamane's all innocence when her stare turns pointed. Truly, there is no accounting for taste.

“But seriously, Inomata,” Kawata continues with her usual no-nonsense tone. “What are you doing here?”

Whatever high ground she’s foraged during this whole...chair sharing arrangement ebbs out beneath her, like sand at the ocean’s shore. No matter what she might like to pretend, she has no reason for being here besides something equally pathetic. “N-nothing. If I’m not wanted, I can just go--”

“I didn’t say that.” It’s funny how in one moment that tone can cut to the quick, and yet in the next it’s a comfort. “But this is about Kashima-kun, right? That’s why you were down here early asking about snacks.”

“Er...”

“That was amazing.” Yamane clasps her hands, eyes glistening. “Kamitani-kun doesn’t like sweets!”

“Is that...” Her mouth works, trying to elect the words least likely to expose any other strange rituals Yamane has devised. “Unexpected?”

“No!” The girl practically glows with her delight. “It’s just like he said when I gave him chocolates first year!”

Kawata gives a twitch of her shoulders, less a shrug and more a resignation. “Excuse her. That’s just the most words that Kamitani-kun’s strung together in years. At least, that isn’t about baseball. But your problem isn’t with him, is it?”

Maria has plenty of complaints about Kamitani, enough to fill the whole hour until clubs start, but Kawata’s right. She’s not wandering the halls because Kamitani hasn’t met a private conversation he can’t interrupt, or leave a single indignity unwitnessed, but-- but--

Yamane stares at her with big, hopeful eyes, and Kawata-- Kawata is steady. The sort of girl with a good head on her shoulders. The sort of girl boys list after Yuki when they make lists of the class’s most datable girls. She may not be able to bear asking Yuki-chan about Kashima, but maybe...

“Do you know what boys like?”

The words hurry out of her, like tardy students racing the last bell, and once they’re through the gate--

Kawata swings aside, one hand sweeping out in invitation. “Step into our office.”

The floors are freshly swept when Maria picks through the aisles, half the chairs neatly placed on top of their desks. She generously concedes that although she did not interrupt their cleaning-- after all, she’d only been pacing, not looking for anything more than a quiet place to lose her mind-- she may have at least distracted them from it.

“Take a seat,” Kawata directs, and with hardly any ceremony, Maria drops down into one, crossing her ankles neatly below the chair. She’s already intruding, it would hardly do to take up space on top of it.

There’s no lights on in the classroom, but when Kawata slams down her stack of magazines, their glossy covers shimmer in the sun, glistening like all the hot summer fun they promise. Popteen sits at the top, boasting the same idol Seventeen sports three spots down. A PopSister pokes out toward the bottom, splayed over the latest issue of AnAn. A veritable set of encyclopedias for the all the high-stakes, teenage heart-throbbing problems adolescence can provide, but Maria--

Maria only resists the urge to straighten them.

“These can tell you everything you need to know.” With the barest hesitation, Kawata adds, “About boys, that is.”

Yamane nods sagely. “They know everything about what boys like.”

Maria delicately slides an issue of Seventeen off the pile, half afraid that her fingers might smudge the cover’s pristine gloss. It’s pink-- aggressively pink-- and over a girl’s face she only half recognizes, it reads, 10 Ways to Drive Him Crazy. She assumes they mean ‘crazy’ as in the sexual desire sense, not the way Yagi makes her crazy enough to shove him out a window. Which is a more promising start than Men Prefer Otoro opened with. At least, until she flips through the pages.

“Wh-what?” She slaps it shut, cheeks burning bright enough to cook mushi pan. “I can’t do this!”

Kawata tilts her head, a frown following suit. “Why not?”

“T-they say y-you should--” Maria strains a breath between her teeth-- “lick him behind the ear.”

“Ooh, really?” Yamane glances over with a terrible curiosity. “Can I see that when you’re done?”

Kawata places a firm hand over the cover to keep her from trying. “What else?”

“W-well.” Maria slumps into a miserable hunch. “That I should also try to g-grab his sleeve so that he knows that I...that I--” she drops her voice to the barest whisper-- “that I want to k-kiss him...”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Yamane opines, earning a nod from Kawata.

“Doable, even,” she agrees perversely, as if the suggestion were somehow reasonable.

Maria’s fingers curl tightly around the curve of the desk. “It’s not.”

Quite honestly, between this and the licking, it’s worse. At least if she were going to put her mouth on someone, it would be purposeful, a gesture that can’t be mistaken. But tugging on the sleeve-- that’s something she might have done, all unknowing. A signal Kashima would receive loud and clear while she remained oblivious, like a broken flashlight flickering in Morse code.

And if there’s just this one innocent thing-- a tug for a kiss-- then how many more much she not know about? Has she been bumbling through every social interaction secretly signalling for a different sort of intercourse, like when her grandmother would buy her a shirt with English on it, never knowing that the blouse she thought was so lovely read feel me up right across her chest?

“Can you cook?” Her gaze jolts up, catching Kawata’s assessing squint. “Boys love it when girls cook for them.”

“Oh, yes!” Yamane claps her hands, practically glowing as she adds, “Girlfriends always pack the cutest bentos!”

Maria’s all too aware; it’s a contest in 3-A to make Yagi the most delicious and intricate lunch, each girl racing to shove theirs in his hands before any of the others could. Yagi always graciously accepts, smiling that stupid politician smile of his, thanking them for their thoughtfulness as if he was standing by the polls. She’d hate him for it if she didn’t know he just handed them off to Nezu the second they stepped out of class.

“I know my way around a kitchen,” she reminds them, “I am the treasurer of the Home Ec club.”

“Right, sure,” Kawata hums, eyes narrowing. “But are you any good?”

There’s an impassioned defense of her skills right on the tip of her tongue; sure, she started out rough, but last year she made a mousse even Usaida declared passable, and roughly two-thirds of her cookies came out edible. But her last batch of shortbreads had nearly set the lab on fire, and when she’d tried to make herself instant ramen on the stove over the summer they’d had to throw out the pot. “No.”

Yamane remains undaunted. “But are you laid back?”

The answer is obvious but still, it stings when Kawata huffs out a, “Ha.”

“Alright....” Yamane flips through a few pages of a PopTeen before she settles on, “Do you like letting a man lead?”

Maria stares. “Is he a teacher?”

Kawata makes a strangled noise before suggesting, “Maybe you can dress nicer?”

“What’s wrong with the what I’m wearing?” She blinks down, staring at the rumpled pleats of her skirt. “It’s the same as what you have on.”

“Nothing!” Yamane is quick to assure her, just as Kawata offers, “You could roll your skirt up a little.”

“But...” It’s already above her knees; just about as long as the ones she wears on weekends. “That would break the dress code.”

Both girls cross their legs, flushed, and Maria can’t help but notice theirs settle significantly higher than hers, riding up to mid-thigh as they squirm.

“Well,” Kawata presses on, “what about the weekend? Do you wear cute things out of school?”

Maria blinks. “I think they’re fine.”

Both girls exchange a look. She doesn’t need a magazine to tell her what that means.

Covers splay over the desk in front of her, the models so similar, so uniform that at a glance they could be mistaken for the same girl with different clothes. Glossy hair, perfect skin, their mouths parted in eager surprise-- even with a team to transform her, Maria’s certain she couldn’t look like that.

“Are you sure this is what boys like?” She can’t see Kashima caring about long legs and waist-hip measurements; after all, the only body he can’t seem to resist getting his hands on is Kotaro’s chubby one. “All boys?”

“Inomata.” Yamane’s wide-eyed, staring at her with hushed admonishment. “They couldn’t print it if it wasn’t true!”

“Besides,” Kawata continues, rolling her eyes. “Everyone know boys our age are dogs.”

“Hey!”

The lights flick on, momentarily disorienting. But when the sparks clear, Kamitani stands in the jamb, his glare stark above the white of his jersey.

It takes a moment to realize he’s not glaring at them, but at Yamane specifically. “Why are you in my seat?”

As always, the first meeting of the Home Ec club is full to the brim with first years, giggling and jostling shoulders as the president speaks. They squirm with excitement, like a basket of puppies, but Maria knows all too well it’s not with a love for the culinary arts. No, these are all the girls who aren’t athletic enough for a sport and aren’t talented enough for an art, the ones who saw the Home Ec flyer and thought about bentos for boyfriends rather than acquiring a life skill. A young professional could not live on take out alone, after all.

There’d be half as many attendees next time, and then half again, until a handful of girls remained, having found a love of baking-- or boyfriend who didn’t mind receiving the benefits.

“When you join the club, you’ll be able to pick you own projects,” Tanaka-san continues, smile big and bright. She’s a second year, popular in her own grade, and it’s clear the crowd likes her too. “But today our treasurer, Inomata-san, has picked out a recipe for all of us to make.”

“It’s daifuku,” she says promptly, watching as their smiles stretch tight. It’s a dirty business to work with mochi, and most of these girls won’t make it past the bean paste. “Strawberry daifuku.”

There’s a scattering of groans when they stand, crowding around the benches. Tanaka-san may have joined as a boyfriend-hopeful, but after working through her first high school romance in short order-- Maria hadn’t quite been paying attention, but it couldn’t have been more than a month-- she’d found she has talent for it, pure and simple. Her last project before the third years left had been a three-tiered wedding cake, just to prove she could, and served it their last meeting.

It hadn’t been much of a surprise when she’d been voted president, even over the third years. And watching her guide the first years through wrapping anko around a strawberry, it’s even more clear-- she’s made to teach.

“I don’t really need to be here.”

It’s hard to pick out any one voice over the excited chatter-- and groaning as they pick anko out from beneath their nails-- but this one, for some reason sticks out. Maria chases the voice back to a first year, her chin proudly lifted as she flicks her loose bun over her shoulder.

Oh, it’s her. The girl from the Opening Ceremony. Her rival, somehow. Inu... Inu...?

“I already made a bento once,” she continues, floating on half a sigh. “That makes me practically a professional.”

Maria can’t help it; she grunts. From effort, of course; the anko is a bit stubborn when it comes to sticking to her strawberry. She really doesn’t mean for it to sound as skeptical as it does.

The girl, however, doesn’t miss it. In fact, there’s a distinct satisfaction in her smile that says she’s been waiting for Maria to engage, though she can’t think of a single reason why. “What about you, senpai?” she asks, too arch for the simpering tone she attempts. “Do you make your boyfriend bento?”

A strange hypothetical to contemplate. She might be in her flush of youth, as Yuki’s manga likes to call it, but not a single boy in these past two years has ever sniffed around her for anything more than her notes, and Maria has firm doubts that they ever will. She’d chalk it up to the rigors of secondary education, how both school and clubs leave a dearth of time in their wake-- but she knows better. The boys in her class find time to flock around Yuki just fine,

But that’s not what this Inu girl is asking.

“I don’t see why I should,” Maria replies loftily. “He has a mother, doesn’t he?”

This does not garner the response she expects; instead of a roll of her eyes, this first year drops her daifuku with a splat, anko splattering across the bench top.

“You’re so stupid, senpai!” she shouts, eyes swimming as she glares. “Who would ever like you?”

She flees the room, sobbing so hard Maria half expects tears to fly from her, glistening in the late afternoon light. After all, this sort of thing only happens in shojo manga; it would only make sense that it abides by genre convention.

“What,” Tanaka whispers, leaning into her with wide eyes, “was what?”

Maria shakes her head. “I have absolutely no clue.”

By the end of the meeting, Maria is left with a romantic quagmire, sore feet, and a full tupperware of strawberry daifuku. She hardly makes it within a hundred feet of the daycare before she collapses on the the courtyard’s bench, weary all the way down to her toes. Entrance exams are months away, but oh, how she’ll look forward to the break. Studying for ten hours will be a vacation compared to navigating a social life. All this stress and it isn’t even guaranteed to get her into the university of her choice.

Her eyes clench shut, fingers tightening around plastic. All this work, emotional anguish, and she didn’t even manage to make something for Kotaro. Or, well, he’d certainly eat them, but half of what’s on his plate would end up saved for Taka, and though seeing Taka’s face light up would do a world of good for her mood...

Well, it wasn’t as if Kamitani would be giving her any thanks. Not that she wants him to. It’s just-- Kashima would if she did something thoughtful for Kotaro. It would be polite, at least; a salve for the fact that she wouldn’t be getting one from the boy she wanted. That she never would, because those magazines are right; there’s no way she can make herself as an attractive option if Yuki never got Kashima to look twice at her. At least, not short of changing everything about herself.

She may like Kashima, but not even Maria is silly enough to think she can become much more than this. Her one skill is studying, and if she gives that up, she’s nothing more than a girl who places at the top of the regular class.

Distantly, she’s aware things aren’t so dire. Even if Kotaro does end up saving his snacks for Taka, Kashima will thank her all the same. And as fond as she is of Kotaro, Taka’s smile is a rarer currency now that he’s attending yochien instead of the daycare; one she’s happy to pocket at the end of any day. And Kashima...

She doesn’t need him to notice her. It’s just...it’s just that right now she’d like to wallow in defeat. Savor the taste of rock bottom, since she’ll never, not ever, let herself go after a boy--

“Maria-neesan?”

Her eyes blink open, and yellow assaults her vision. With a rub of her eyes, it resolves into Kirin, neatly dressed in her school uniform, all yellow and plaid and bright bucket hat, like a particularly opinionated ducking. “Good afternoon. I suppose you’re here to pick up your brother?”

Kirin practically glows when she nods. “Daddy went inside to get Sai-chan, but I saw Maria-neesan, and I asked if I could come over.”

High praise, considering how much she prides herself on being a doting big sister. Maria had worried whether  girl so used to her father’s sole attention would take having to share it, but aside from Kumatsuka-sensei sharing a few funny ‘look at me daddy’ stories, Kirin’s taken to her new position in the family with a vigor that might one day put Kashima to shame.

“I appreciate the company.” For once, she means it, shuffling on the bench just enough to make a show of making room.“I’m glad your daddy let you.”

“He said it’d be better this way.” Kiri hops up, bowing to accommodate the backpack still slung over her shoulder. “There’s too many perverted young men in there.”

Maria sighs. Kumatsuka-san should be the drama teacher, not his wife. “That sounds just about right.”

Kirin squiggles beside her suddenly locating a dozen more eyelashes when she catches sight of the container in her lap. “What’s in there, nee-san?”

She blinks, staring down at the lid. The container may be thick-walled, sturdy enough to last the walk home, but it’s still clear on the sides, the pinkish shell of the mochi smooshed against the plastic. They aren’t so malformed as to be unidentifiable-- at least, the ones Maria didn’t make. “Strawberry daifuku. I...I’m going to bring it to the daycare, but I just...need a minute.”

“I see.” Kirin sidles closer, legs swinging at a studiously casual pace. “Well, if you’re worried they might not taste good, Maria-neesan, someone could always...”

Oh. Well. That did explain the question. Her mouth twitches. “Would you like to try one?”

“Well,” Kirin huffs as she pops the top, fingers clenched in her skirt. “If you insist.”

Maria barely pries up a corner before two disappear, one right after another, leaping into Kirin’s mouth with a speed that would make an adult choke. Kirin, for her part, only takes another.

“They’re good!” she manages through her mouthful, smile distended by her chipmunk cheeks. “Very eatable!”

Edible, she doesn’t correct, the lid clicking back on. “You think so?”

“Mmhmm!” Kirin licks the sugar off her fingers, mouth falling further with each lick. “Maria-neesan, why did you look so sad?”

“Huh?” She blinks down at her, meeting that small furrowed brow. “Do I?”

“Not now,” Kirin clarifies with another lick. “You’re always happy around me, just like Mama is. But before. That’s why I came over”

“Oh.” She slumps, metal slats digging into her back. “It’s nothing. I just...got advice for a, er, problem, and I think it means it’s...”

Hopeless.

“Was it about boys?”

Maria jumps, shrinking under the stars in Kirin’s eyes. “H-how did you know that?”

“Everyone knows,” Kirin admonishes brightly, “that whenever a woman has a problem, there’s a man behind it.”

“I...” Her mouth works, but words abandon her. “R-really?”

“Well, that’s what Ami-chan’s mommy tells her friend,” Kirin informs her, too serious. “Or at least, that’s what Ami-chan says. Has he pulled your pigtails? That’s a sure sign he likes you. Ami-chan’s mommy says that too.”

Maria can’t imagine Kashima pulling on her sleeve, let alone her hair. “No. I don’t think he would, even if he did like someone.”

“Hmm.” Kirin taps her chin. “That’s harder then. Does he share his toys with you?”

“I...” Maria catches herself contemplating whether Kotaro might fall under the toy category, and give herself a single, solid shake. “No, I don’t...I already know he doesn’t like me. Or well, he does, just not...like that. I’m trying to see if there’s a way to, um...”

Change his mind. It sounds terrible that way, as if she’s trying to trick him, talk him around in circles until he mistakes that for attraction. All these magazine, all these books, they want to change her-- not forever, but just long enough to get him. To teach her how to put on a mask when all she wants to do is be liked.

“Oh, well.” Kirin flaps a hand, undaunted. “You know boys only want one thing.”

“What?” Maria leans in, tense with attention. “What’s that?”

Her tiny shoulders twitch in a careless shrug. “Oh, I don’t know, that’s just what daddy says.”

“Wha--?”

“Kirin-chan, my wonderful daughter!” Kumatsuka-san waves from the door, smile bright as he switches Kai’s chubby body from one arm to the other. “Are you ready to go?”

“In a minute, Papa!” Kirin leaps off the bench. “Sorry, nee-san, I gotta go.”

“Ah!” Her hands flutter over the tupperware, half ready to hold her back. Kumatsuka-san may be an adult, but he-- he was a boy once. Maria takes in his winning smile, his artfully tousled hair, the looks that had-- allegedly-- made him the heartthrob of the drama society. If anyone could tell her what Kashima could want, it would be him. She could pay him in daifuku--

“Good luck with your boy problem!” Kirin calls back, one tiny hand waving as the other holds onto her father’s trousers.

All at once, Kumatsuka’s handsome face turns dark.

“What was that?” he asks, thundering across the courtyard. “You weren’t talking about boys were you, my innocent little pea? My sweet little pony child?”

“Oh Papa,” Kirin sighs, weary beyond her years. “Mama already told you, you can’t ask about girl talk.”

Kumatsuka-san sputters as his daughter tows him away, heels dragging just like a toddler’s. “But my shining pearl, surely...”

Maria stares after them, eyes wide. On second thought, maybe she’ll keep the daifuku to herself.