#my professor said to write something about a cake in the road

[perfectlypreservedpie]

MacCready Fanfiction Recs (Fallout 4)

hey everybody, nobody asked for this but in the midst of writing fallout fanfic I was feeling a special kind of love for my favorite fo4 fanfics and wanted to recommend them in case you hadn't read 'em. Because they are VERY GOOD and writing fanfic is hard, so you gotta give props to those who sweat for your comfort fics.

I'm gonna recommend my top three finished fanfics, and then two more bonus fics that are being updated rn. As a clarifier, these are all Maccready fallout 4 fics. so. keep that in mind.

im tagging the authors and also anybody who wants to join and share their favorites too!

3. THE FATHER(S) AND THE SON(S) on ao3 by @sirmanmister

I'm going to preface this rec by saying this: there is Fanon MacCready. There is canon MacCready. And then there is ascended!whatBethesdawishesitWAS MacCready, which exists solely in this fanfiction. The characterization of Mac is so well written. He is snarky, he is vulnerable. He desperately wants to grow up but doesn't know how. He has the most sick character arc in this story!!!

It's not a romance but instead a coming of age story where the sole survivor becomes a de-facto parent to Mac. The heart of the story is about how to raise a child while you're still trying to grow up yourself. The apocalypse setting lends itself well because the Wasteland is a place where NOTHING is beautiful, but the way that M!Sosu and MacCready care for their sons is beautiful. Which makes it special and worth fighting for.

As a fun fact, I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy for class a week after finishing this fic and I was thinking about this fic the whole time because the themes of fatherhood during an apocalypse hit a lot of the same beats. Maybe my professor would kick me in the teeth by comparing fic to McCarthy, but @sirmanmister YOU ARE MY CORMAC MCCARTHY <3

2. WORKING CLASS HERO on ao3 by @bluegrasskitty

This is the kind of fic you take with you to toilet, to work, in-between classes. It will suck you in. AND THERE'S A SEQUEL TOO YOU GUYS‼️

The sole survivor in this story is the model for the Nuka Cola girl. You know the hot lady in the spacesuit? SHE HAS A BACKSTORY. AND YALL IT MADE ME WEEP. During some point of the story, I sort of stopped rooting for MacCready to be the narrator and just wanted Nora Cabot to take the reins. When I tell you I think of this oc every two to three business weeks. She's an incredible leading lady. I can't look at Nuka Girl posters in the game without thinking of Nora Cabot, my beloved.

the sequel IS SO FIRE. It's the best reimagining of 'what happened after the institute blew up' that I've ever read. im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure actually.

A VERY GOOD PLOT TWIST I CANNOT MENTION TO NEW READERS BUT IF YOU'VE READ IT YOU'LL UNDERSTAND. AND IF YOU UNDERSTAND DM ME I HAVE TO TALK TO SOMEBODY ABOUT IT. HHh.

The amount of world building that @bluegrasskitty puts into this story is insane. They ARE Beth Esda.

As a fun fact, I didn't know that radchickens were canon in fallout. I thought it was a plot device made up by this author to excuse the ability to make cake in this book, but radchickens ARE real. When I was playing Far Harbor last year, I found radchickens and thought that @bluegrasskitty manifested them into existence because they had that kind of power.

that being said, I still think this author has that kind of power.

1. Atom Bomb Baby on ao3 by @starlightwrites

I think you dropped something....my jaw.

fellas. fellas. this is my comfort fic. You ever had a comfort fic? Something you come back to at least once a year to reread to feel something? the fiction equivalent of chicken noodle soup? this is what Atom Bomb Baby is to me. this is peak literature actually. if I ever figure out book binding, im doing this one first.

Plot wise, it's a retelling of Fallout 4's main story through the perspective of MacCready. But (and im wheezing as I say this) it's also so much more THAN THAT.

this fic author understands that MacCready is not a womanizer but is in fact a touch starved loser. and they are CORRECT.

MacCready spends the entire fic like 'uuuhhhh I dunno about this one, boss!'

ITS BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS RAHHHHHH

it also has a nostalgia feel to me too, because reading it gives me the same feeling as what it was like to play the game for the first time, years ago. maybe it's because I've read it so many times over the years, but reading it feels so satisfying.

The author spends 10 chapters at the end solely dedicated to an epilogue. I wish more stories did this. They go through the wringer in this story, and it's so deeply satisfying to see how cleanly everything gets wrapped up. MacCready and the Lola work really well together as a couple, so it's awesome to see how they work together after the battle is done.

6 out of 5 stars.

BONUS FICS !! aka fics that are still updating! I squeal with joy when I get an ao3 email about these: 1. Best Laid Plans on ao3 by @druidgroves - Georgia Tate is an incredible character and sole survivor! She was a teacher prewar, so it's really fun to get her perspective on the world. She cares a lot about education and libraries and I find her really relatable and endearing. It's a cool thing for a character in an apocalypse to care about! It also makes for fun tension with Mac, who's written as a pragmatic survivor. A great take on familiar characters and their dynamics. - And It's a great slow burn! I'm really enjoying reading it. 2. Long Time Running on ao3 by @twosides--samecoin - If you've ever thought that Med-Tek was too convenient an option for Duncan's cure, this fic was written with you in mind. - RJ goes to Canada and im obsessed with it. - If you're interested in fallout lore, specifically the bit where the U.S annexed Canada and wished that there was more info about that, I would highly recommend this fic. Twosides--samecoin put in THE WORK. The world building they do to explain Canada's side of the Great War is so fun!!! its genuinely such a thrill to read!

I'm tagging the authors who I mentioned, if you all have favorite fics (fallout or otherwise, I'd love to hear em!) Thank you for making good art!

[rayne-storm]

To Get To The Other Side

‘Twas a dark and stormy night, the kind your mother always warned you about. There were certainly villains and ne’er-do-wells out and about, eager to prey on poor old you. But you tried not to think about that. Instead, you chose to focus on the fact that your ride home ditched you for a party you weren’t invited to, but will most likely be told about at length until you swear (not for the first time) that you will find a new roommate if they don’t shut the hell up.

While pleasant thoughts of strangulation swam through your overworked mind, you failed to notice something directly in front of you, and tripped over it, landing face-first in a puddle far too deep to have come from anywhere save the bowels of Hell. You are still certain that Satan himself had sent it to torment you for that thing you did in fourth grade that you always knew would catch up to you someday. Regardless of where it came from, however, it had soaked you to the bone, and not even your backpack had been spared the indignity of the gutter-water.

You managed to pull your drenched form from the Hell-puddle and glanced at what had so thoroughly ruined your already awful night. It was a chicken. A beautiful thing, to be sure, with the most pristine white plumage puffing majestically from its chest, and a comb of the purest cherry. The creature in the middle of the sidewalk left you speechless for several moments, but soon the pondering had finished and you decided that, since the poor poultry was nearly as soaked as you, you would take it home. And maybe, just maybe, it would somehow create excellent vengeance against Asshole Partyboy.

As you reached to get it, however, the thing moved, its fowl legs carrying it frighteningly fast for the middle of the road. The sheer absurdity of the situation escaped you at the time, as you were far more concerned about a hen in the highway. You watched in abject horror as the beautiful bird came to rest in the middle of the suicide lane, pecking something, the honking of cars a surreal orchestra for the situation.

Getting the rest of the way to your feet, you were able to see just what it was eating: a two-tier cake. The cake was of magnificent craftsmanship – pastel blue with navy icing decorating the tiers, and a small figurine of a man holding a baby atop it. Your best guess was that the letters you could not make out read something along the lines of “it’s a boy,” and the realization broke your heart a little bit. Something had gone terribly, tragically wrong and the best-case scenario was that dessert did not make it to a party.

It was at this point you decided to stop and take stock of the insanity your life had become. You had tripped over a beautiful chicken and fallen into the largest puddle you had ever seen. Said chicken then darted across two lanes of fast-moving traffic to eat a cake. The cake was sad.

After the brief review, you decided that you did not care to stick around and find out which “other side” your fowl friend would end up on. Your guess was the metaphoric one.

Turning away from the scene, you began to head home, only to hear a panicked clucking. It seemed that the chicken had finished its feast, and now realized its predicament. The cake, proving unsatisfactory to the poor beast (which only served to make the whole thing sadder) was in wet shambles around its feet, and it could find no way across the suddenly busy road. All the headlights and honking only served to frighten it further.

You had a choice to make. Turn back around and pretend you were hallucinating this entire thing, or somehow attempt to help the chicken. Both would only make your night immeasurably more awful, but only one would (hopefully) earn you good karma. Taking a deep breath, you waited for a gap in the cars, and ran.

~~~~~~~

So here you are. In the middle of a highway, during the worst storm of the year. You’re holding an incredibly angry chicken and standing in the very sad remnants of a tragically destroyed cake. You’re terrified, and all you want right now is to be in bend, blatantly ignoring the sounds coming from next door, made by your roommate Asshat McDouche and whatever “friend” he’s brought home from the party who’s clearly more important than your well-being.

Sadly, you are not home, hiding from the noises. You’re here, and honestly you don’t know what choices you’ve made in your life to end up tediously close to a horrible headline, but hey, nothing can change it. You need to focus on getting to the punchline.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

An imagine for adeuce please! They hang out someplace in their hometown during vacation but awkwardly run into crewel. I think treys family bakery would be a nice location but the setting is your choice in case you want to limit the dialogue and number of characters

Ps. I personally feel like the game needs more interactions between the students and teachers. Hopefully we can get more in the new event

Teacher-student interactions are so much fun! We definitely got more from Vargas Camp (which I’m really thankful for), and I hope we keep getting more!

So far, my favorite teacher-student dynamic has been Vargas and Azul. I’d feel bad for octoboi if I wasn’t laughing so hard at his flying fails--

I really liked this prompt, so I wrote more than my usual ~1000 word imagine; please enjoy!

***Mild spoilers for chapter 4!***

Imagine this...

The Rose Kingdom was aptly named for the flowers that bloomed in nearly every corner of its land. In the summer time, they blossomed magnificently, perfuming the warm air with their heady aroma—but in the winter, those delicate rosebuds were banished by a spell of frost. Without fail, a great cold would wash over the region every year, casting their famous red flowers in a thick layer of white.

It was a pattern that the kingdom’s residents had long since grown accustomed to. This was, after all, their beloved home—amid the roses, frozen as they were.

“Oi, Deuce! Hurry it up, will you?!” Ace called, tossing an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

His friend—wearing so many layers that he resembled a moving blueberry more than a human—lagged several paces behind.

Deuce attempted to return the sass, but his words caught in the scarf bound tightly around his mouth, coming out muffled instead. The puffball on his winter hat furiously bobbed up and down, as though communicating his frustration for him.

“If we don’t pick up the pace, they’re gonna sell out of hot chocolate and fresh pastries!” Ace rushed back, grabbed Deuce by the arm, and tugged. “C’mon!! I thought you were in Track and Field Club or something—so let’s get moving!”

Deuce loosened his scarf with his free hand and, glaring at Ace, declared, “No way am I running with the roads this icy. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Hah? You serious? I already got wasted enough time waiting for you to dress in your 101 layers of coats,” Ace grumped, gesturing to Deuce’s ridiculous outfit. “It can’t hurt to be a little quicker about it.”

“Mom wanted me to stay warm,” Deuce countered stiffly. “I’m gonna respect that, no matter what.”

Ace rolled his eyes and waves dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, whatever—enough talk, we really gotta get going...!! I’ll be damned if I freeze out here.”

“The Clover Bakery isn’t that far from here, so we don’t need to rush.” Deuce indicated a warm building at the end of the block, which gave off delicious fumes—spun sugar, baked bread, and spices. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Ace groaned loudly. At this rate, it would take all day for them to waddle on over. He was about to bury his head in his hands when an idea dawned on him.

A mean, but clever, idea.

“Betcha I could make it there faster than you,” Ace chirped, his voice casual.

“It’s not a competition,” Deuce reminded him sternly.

“No one said it was, dummy! I’m just saying I could definitely beat you at your own game.”

“Tough words for someone shaking like a leaf in the cold.”

“Oh yeah?” Ace’s grin was wicked. “Prove me wrong, then.”

“I don’’t have to prove anything. It’d be dangerous to run in this weather, anyway.”

“I bet it’s way more snowy in Pyroxene—and Jack’s probably totally fine with running through it!”

“That’s Jack, and this is me. I said I wasn’t going to rush things, and I meant it.”

“Yeah? Too bad~” The redhead gave an exaggerated sigh and a shrug. “Backing out, huh...? Oh well. Guess if you snooze, you lose...!!”

“Hey, I never said...” Deuce’s voice trailed off, for Ace had shoved by him, darting off in the direction of the bakery. “H-Hey...!! Ace...!! ACE!! GET BACK HERE!!”

He tore after his friend, shouting at him all the while—and Ace, with his (cheating) head start, only laughed in return. Deuce soon caught up (no thanks to his club conditioning), and they were neck-and-neck for first place.

Windchill, knives upon their faces. The biting cold seeped into their lungs, making it hurt to breathe as they hurtled toward their destination. Yet they sailed on, determined to outdo the other.

Both boys launched themselves at the bakery entrance, grasping the handle at the same time.

“EXCUSE US!!” Ace and Deuce yelled in unison, yanking open the door (struggling to cram through the doorway at the same time) and stumbling in.

They were greeted by a blast of warmth and the smells of sweet cakes and toasted breads. The employee manning the counter glanced up, startled at the duo’s sudden appearance. When he saw who it was that had barged in, he sighed and calmly readjusted his glasses.

He looked a little different than usual, wearing a white shirt with green plaid that showed off his broad shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal thick forearms forged from years of lifting flour sacks and kneading dough. A brown apron was slung over his attire, four-leafed clovers sewn on the pockets.

“If it isn’t Ace and Deuce. How are the two troublemakers of Heartslabyul doing?” Trey asked, his smile lopsided as his underclassmen approached.

“A-Are we really troublemakers in your eyes, Clover-senpai?!”

“I’m just kidding,” he reassured Deuce. “Well, you are troublemakers, but more for Riddle than for me.”

“Geez... thanks for the vote of confidence...” Ace grumbled, casting the third year a cheeky look. “Some senpai you are, huh?”

“Now, now... I’m allowed to have some fun, aren’t I? We’re all ‘off-duty’, so to speak.” Trey said light heartedly. “Anyway, what brings you guys to the Clover Bakery? I’m assuming you’re not dropping by just to say hello.”

“Hehe. Obviously we’re hungry, so we came by for some grub!” Ace held up his index finger. “One large hot chocolate, and a plate of assorted butter cookies for me!”

“I’m okay with a small spiced apple cider,” Deuce chimed in, “please and thank you.”

“Gotcha. I’ll get you your drinks in a bit,” Trey nodded, “but as for the butter cookies, I’m afraid I won’t be able to sell those to you.”

“Huh?” Ace’s face collapsed. “Why not?”

“We’ve only got a few dozen left, and they’re reserved for a client that preordered them. Sorry.” Trey pointed to a neatly wrapped box already set upon the counter, done up in a bright green bow.

Through the plastic window in the box, Ace could see that the cookies had been converted into little sandwiches. Each pair housed a generous dollop of cream, caramelized raisins threaded throughout it.

“What? Who needs that many butter cookies? And why are there gross raisins in them--“

The door to the bakery flung open, summoning a gale of cold once more. A bell suspended above jingled, ringing in a new customer.

“Ah, speak of deville the devil,” Trey said—while his underclassmen balked in terror.

There, in the doorway, was a tall man in black faux leather gloves and a voluminous fur coat—striped, black and white. Beneath that, he boasted a crimson turtle neck and a blazer, half solid white, the other half a black , checkerboard pattern. This, paired with his slicked back hair, steely eyes, and regal face, made him appear as though he had just strutted off the runway, were it not for the leashes he gripped.

Two Dalmatians—one in a blue coat, the other in a red one—stood alert by his feet. They caught Ace and Deuce’s eyes and barked in greeting, but the two boys were far too fixated on the Dalmatians’ owner to gush over dogs.

“Crewel...”

“... Sensei?”

Ace and Deuce glanced to one another, then back at their Alchemy teacher.

“C-CREWEL-SENSEI?!”

“Wh-What’re you doing here?!” Ace demanded, pointing an accusatory finger. “School’s out for winter break...!! You... You didn’t hunt us down to make us do our homework, did you?!”

Crewel snorted. “Spare me your theatrics, Trappola. Your instructors are granted a vacation for the duration of winter break as well. Were you not aware?”

“I-I knew that! I just didn’t know you lived in the Rose Kingdom, too!”

“I thought teachers lived at school...”

“... Seriously, Deuce?!”

“The more you know.” Crewel narrowed his eyes at Ace. “But speaking of homework, I trust you pups are keeping on top of your assignments? Being on break is no excuse to slack on your studies.”

“D-Duh! Of course I haven’t been slacking!” A lie, Ace grimaced, thinking to the piles of homework he had abandoned in his bedroom in favor of hanging out with friends. Whatever, he could just pester his brother for help later. “Right, Deuce? Back me up here!”

“I’ve been diligently studying and working on my homework bit by bit every day, Crewel-sensei!”

“... But have you done it accurately?” Crewel asked, raising an eyebrow. “Simply writing down an answer does not guarantee full marks, Spade.”

“... Errrrrr, okay, maybe I need to work on it a little more.”

“You’ve got your notes and a reliable Science Club member to count on for assistance,” Crewel quipped, gesturing to Trey with a gloved hand. “There is no excuse for why you should not do well. That goes for you as well, Trappola.”

“Y-Yessir!”

“Crewel-sensei, I think that’s enough interrogation,” Trey called, waving for him to come to the counter. Outwardly, he wore a smile, but inwardly, he sighed. For the love of the Great Seven, don’t offer my help for me. “Here, I have your order prepared--oh, but be sure to keep your dogs at the doorway. No pets allowed beyond a certain threshold for health and safety reasons.”

“I am aware, yes.” Crewel’s eyes passed over to the two scared stiff underclassmen. “... Trappola, Spade--come here. Do your professor a favor and tend to my Dalmatians for me.”

“What? You want us to watch your dogs?”

“I’ll do my best, Sensei!!”

“Don’t just blindly agree to it, Deuce!”

“It will only be for a moment,” Crewel insisted, shoving his leashes into Ace and Deuce’s hands. The boys fumbled, but held firm--the Dalmatians eagerly staring up at them.

“... Oi, don’t give me those looks,” Ace grumbled. “You’re... You’re too cute looking and innocent to be Crewel-sensei’s pets.”

The dog in the red coat gave a happy bark, as if pleased with the compliment. Its partner, in the blue coat, panted with delight as Deuce gave it a firm head pat.

Crewel received the box of raisin butter cookies--but allowed his eyes to quickly a scan the glass display case as he strode up. “Do you have dog treats in stock as well?”

“We do.”

“Then add two to my total, please--peanut butter flavor.”

“Alright, you’ve got it.” Trey ducked, retrieved a pair of tongs, and fished out two bone-shaped biscuits. He dropped them into a paper bag and handed them over to his teacher. “That’ll be--”

He was cut off by several bills being fanned out on the counter.

“I’ve ordered enough from your bakery to know the general prices,” Crewel smirked, tucking his wallet away into his massive fur coat. “If there is a discrepancy, you may keep the change.”

“Ah, thanks for that. Hope you and the dogs enjoy--” Trey paused, cut off this time by the sound of several small footsteps from the back room of the bakery. He groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Oh no...”

“Trey-nii!!” A chorus of high-pitched voices piped up, startling Ace and Deuce. “We heard bark-barks!! Did Mr. Fluffy Coat bring back his doggies?”

Three heads of green hair poked above the counter--just barely. One girl and two boys, probably elementary school age, all of them sharing Trey’s mustard yellow eyes.

“Guys, not now. Big bro’s busy with the customers,” Trey warned. He passed an apologetic look to his underclassmen and teacher. “Sorry, my siblings are excitable sometimes.”

“I wanna pet the doggies!”

“I wanna feed’m snackies!”

“I wanna dress them up!”

To the boys’ surprise, Crewel merely chuckled. “No worries. Fellow canine lovers are always welcome.”

“Mr. Fluffy Coat!! Can we feed your doggies?”

“Pretty please with candied violets on top!”

“Please, please, please!!”

Crewel barked with laughter. “Perhaps I can allow it, little ones--permitted that your brother grants his permission.”

All three Clover siblings looked expectantly at their eldest sibling.

Trey heaved a sigh. “... I guess I’ve got no choice. Go ahead.”

Excited squeals filled the interior of the bakery. The Clover siblings nearly tripped over themselves racing over to Crewel’s dogs (they nearly trampled Ace and Deuce’s feet, too).

“Hey, watch it! We’re the ones babysitting these dogs, not you!” Ace cried as the kids descended on the Dalmatians. I’ve only had these dogs for five minutes but if anything happened to them, I’d kill everyone here and then--

“We can share, Ace!”

“Spade is correct. There is plenty of the pups to go around,” Crewel interjected. He produced two dog treats and broke them into smaller pieces, offering them to Ace, Deuce, and the Clover siblings. “Go on, then. One for each of you to feed them.”

The Clovers cheered and eagerly claimed their pieces, holding them out and allowing each Dalmatian to sniff and lick the treats straight out of their palms. As soon as the food was slurped up, the Clovers proceeded to vigorously pet the pups. But the first years hesitated.

“You’re... being awfully nice,” Ace noted, eying him suspiciously. “Are you gonna spring a pop quiz on us as soon as I take the treat?”

“Keep biting the hand that feeds you, and I just might consider it,” Crewel warned with a dark smirk.

“W-We’ll take the treats!” Deuce snatched up two pieces, shoving one into Ace’s hands. “Come on, let’s not worry too much. We’re on winter break, after all. Let’s just relax while we still can.”

“You’re right, you’re right! Let’s not sweat it!”

They exchanged a brief laugh before kneeling and offering up their own dog treat pieces to the Dalmatians. Just as the dogs’ sloppy, wet tongues connected with the boys’ hands, their cell phones went off.

“... Huh? Did you just get a text, Deuce?”

“I think I did. I heard your phone ping too, though. Did you get a text too?”

“I can check. One sec...” With his free hand, Ace fished his phone out of his coat pocket and consulted it. He immediately paled. “Oh, shit.”

(“Hey, language!” Trey shouted--but his protest seemingly went ignored.)

“What’s wrong?” Deuce asked, frowning.

“Check your phone. Check it right now.”

“Is it something seri...” Deuce’s face dropped as soon as he looked at his messages. “Fuck.”

(“I said, language!” Trey tried again, only to be snubbed a second time.)

The distressing text they had received?

SOS SEND HE LP STRAND ED D IN SCAR ABIA CANT GET OUT - Yuu, Grim

Ace and Deuce abruptly stood and bolted toward the exit, much to everyone’s surprise. They paid no mind to the concerned shouts of Trey, nor Crewel, or to the excited barks of Dalmatians no longer held by leashes.

All that remained of where the duo once stood were soggy, half-finished peanut butter dog treats.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

College AU Week 1 Day 4- Max Phillips

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Thank you to @artsymaddie for enabling giving her feedback on if I should make this smutty or not. I did. ;)  Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: Max Phillips x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + NSFW (Language, vaginal sex, oral (F! receiving)) 

My Masterlist 

I’ve been sitting in this seat all semester. Why did you decide to sit in it today?

This was not your morning. First, you’re wearing a dress with bleach stains across the chest because your stupid roommate can’t read bottles correctly. The coffee shop made you the wrong drink, which you then proceeded to spill all over the front of the said strained dress—all of it culminating in you being late to your business 305 class. You slammed the door open, and all eyes in the room turn to you. You grimace before mouthing an apology to your professor and walking towards the upper half of the lecture hall.

You count the rows as you walk, keeping your eyes down. 20, 21, 22, 2- you stop when you see the leg extended in the walkway. The black dress shoes shining under the fluorescents, your eyes follow up and over a fresh-pressed pair of black dress pants, a white button-up, blue vest, and tie completing the look. You finally reach the freshly shaven face and amused brown eyes of a man.

You’d never seen him before, but in a lecture hall of over two-hundred students, it was impossible to know everyone. But, you would have thought you would have noticed him before since he’s fucking handsome and in your seat.

“Excuse me,” you whisper, and a few heads turn to look at you, “you’re in my seat.”

“Oh, this,” he points down, and you nod. “I didn’t see a name on it?”

“Okay, I understand you’re new? That must be it because I’ve been sitting in this seat for the past three months. Now, I’ve had an incredibly shitty morning. Could you please move?”

“What are you going to do about it, cup cake?” he clicks his tongue on each syllable of the nickname, and any sense of decorum goes out the window. 

“Get the fuck out of my seat,” you shout, all the eyes of the room once again on you. 

“Is there a problem, Miss?” the professor asks, annoyed from the front of the hall.

“Sir, I hate to interrupt, but he’s in my seat,” you point to the man practically glowing at you in amusement. 

“Well, maybe if you were on time, then he would not have seen the open seat. And this is a university, not an elementary we do not have assigned seats. Now sit down or leave.”

You give a glare at the man again before sitting down, huffing in the seat in front of him. The professor goes back to his lecture, and you reach down in your bag for your notes. When you sit back up, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You are so fucking sexy when you’re mad.”

You whip around, a breath away from his wide eyes, “bite me,” you hiss, and his eyes darken.

“Okay,” he nods, grabbing his bag from the floor and putting away his notes. He looks up into your widening eyes, “unless you can’t handle it?” he challenges you, and your not one to shrink away from a challenge.

Shoving your notes back into your bag and zipping it up, you stand and follow him out of the room. The professor shakes his head and scoffing, annoyed. The whispers from your classmates flowing out behind you. You follow him down the stairs and into a smaller classroom.

“What are we doing here?” Your back hits the chalkboard against the wall, and the crumbles of dust fly high into the air, causing you both to cough.  His smile is almost boyish in nature, and you feel your heart flutter as they go from the intense lust from the classroom to something softer. He tucks a strand of hair fallen from your bun behind your ear. “Hi,” he whispers, “my name’s Max.”

“Max,” you like the way his name tastes on your tongue, and you smile as he lets out a soft chuckle. “I like it; it suits you.”

“You can call me anything you want, cupcake, as long as I get to keep hearing you talk,” he kisses you again, lightly, gently probing your lips open as he licks against your lips.

You pull back, and your head hits the chalkboard, and you wince. His hands moving to quickly examine the spot and rub it gently. It’s touching how much he seems to care, and you realize you’d never given him your name. “Hey,” he returns his eyes to you, “you never asked my name.”

He smiles again, “Oh baby, I know your name. I’ve known this whole time; I’ve just been waiting for you to notice me.”

Your previous anger melts away, and you kiss him again, getting heated fast as you feel him long and hard pressing against your leg, and you moan into the kiss as you feel him rub against him. “Fuck,” he bites your lip hard and pulls out before letting go. Your lips parting in a gasp as he smiles down at you. “I want to take you out. Treat you right,” he moans as you cup him.

“I want that too, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fuck me first,” you unfasten his belt, and he chuckles, moving to slide your panties down your legs. You move to push his pants down, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the large desk in the front of the room, making you sit upon it. You lay down as he gently pushes you onto your back, and you rise to your elbows to see him sit in the rolling chair, pulling forward. “What- what are you doing?”

“I want to taste you, is that okay?” You nod, and he places his hands on the bottom of your dress and pulls your thighs closer to his face. “I’m going to need you to say it, baby.”

“Yes,” you gasp as he buries his face in your dripping cunt. His tongue licking wide strips up and down your pussy before swirling back to your clit and sucking gently, pulling away with a pop.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he moans and dives back in. Your hands gripping the edge of the desk as you feel him spear his tongue and dip inside you, his nose moving against your clit.

“Shit, Max, right there,” he replaces his tongue with two fingers easily sliding in with how wet you are. Curling them and thrusting them into you over and over again. His mouth moving back to your clit, and when he bites down, you feel the orgasm crash over you. Shivering from head to toe at the amount of pleasure coursing through your body. His fingers still moving inside you, helping you ride the wave.

He slowly withdraws his fingers and sucks them into his mouth, licking them and grinning at the sweet taste. “Fuck, this pussy is so perfect. Just like you. I’ve wanted you for months,” he drags your arms up and pushes his lips against yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. You move your hands down and push his zipper open, biting your lip at the patch of hair making its way down. “Like what you see?” he teases, and you nod enthusiastically.

You push them down the rest of the way and pump him in your hand. He’s bigger than you were expecting, and your mouth waters at the way he’s going to feel inside you. “What do you want?” he croons against your neck.

You line him up with your entrance and wrap your legs around him, pushing him inside of you. Both of you groaning at a stretch and how tightly you wrap around him, clenching as he begins to rock inside you. You bring your hands up to muse his hair and open your mouth to kiss him passionately. The pleasure growing deep in your belly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

His fingers move between you, and when he rubs your clit you clench tightly around him, flooding his cock as you groan into his mouth. “Yes, baby, cum all over my cock.” He continues rubbing you and pounding into you even harder. He bites down on your shoulder, and you see stars at the combination of pain and pleasure swirling inside you. At the last second, he pulls out and pumps his cock as he explodes all over your thighs with an almost animalistic roar.

“Shit,” he pants-dropping his head to your shoulder. You giggle and breathe heavily as the scent of sex fills the air. “That was fucking amazing; remind me to sit in your seat every day if that’s the reaction I get.”

You push him off your shoulder and flick him in the forehead. He lets out a small ow and laughs, pulling you close and kissing you. You feel him smile against your lips, and you can’t help but return it. He gives you another soft peck before buttoning up his pants and reaching for your panties and purse off the floor.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” You nod, and he runs out the door. You bite your lip, nervous that maybe he won’t come back until he runs back in with wetted paper towels in his hands. Moving to clean you up and helping you step back inside your panties.

“What are you doing right now?” he asks, discarding the rags and helping you off the desk.

“Nothing, I have work tonight at five, but I am free till then.”

“Then how about some breakfast at this little diner down the road? Then you can maybe come over to my place, and we can study together,” he kisses you, “maybe do a little repeat of that in an actual bed.”

“I think I could be persuaded to do that.”

His smile spreads across his whole face, “well-baby, you’ll find I can be very persuasive.”

Taglist: @josepedropascal​ @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @ghostwiththemostbitch @zannemes @xjaywritesx @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick 

[hp-fanfic-archive]

an introductory rec list (that no one asked for) to some of my favorite ships: wolfstar [1/10]

First fic I read for the pairing: Where Rain And Smoke Mingle by smallestbird [1k,T] It doesn't matter if they've disowned you, they're still your family. It doesn't matter how often you walk away, it still hurts. [it’s a bit dreary, but the writing style is so nice and i’m a big sucker for hurt/comfort]

Fic that really sold me on the pairing: Of Brothers and Boyfriends by Amuly [38k,E] There’s no summary on the fic, but, essentially, Remus and Sirius’s secret relationship gets found out and things get… complicated. (warning for homophobia) [My note on my ao3 bookmark pretty much sums up how I feel about this fic: Honestly one of my favorites (and one of the stories that really got me hooked on Wolfstar tbh) and I've read it at least eight times. However, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about the homophobic James Potter (even though he does come around).]

Absolute favorite fic(s) for the pairing: Text Talk by merlywhirls [141k,Not Rated] Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number. (warnings for homophobia, mentions of abuse, and homophobic language) [One of the earlier fics I read and it’s always just been one of my favorites, even though it’s been 3 years since I read it for the first time.] Harry Potter and the Live Laugh Love Sign in the Basement by loudestfandomsoftheworld [24k,T] Harry spends his summer with his fugitive godfather and his former professor who is a jobless werewolf. It's probably the best summer he's ever had. [The humor, the characterizations, their relationships, it’s all so fucking perfect!!] Go East [+Podfic] by xinasvoice [84k,E] Remus has been running for a long time. Eventually, he runs into a strange castle built by a wizard and his young apprentice. The longer he stays, the more secrets he uncovers...and the less he wants to leave. This is a novel-length adventure story that loosely follows the plot of Howl's Moving Castle. It does not require knowledge of the HMC book or movie to enjoy it. [it made me laugh, it made me cry, and it’s plot is based on one of my all time favorite movies? 11/10] Of Queries and Quarantines by MoonCat457 [51k,E] LUPIN.RJ: James, WHY? POTTER.JF: Because you’re the one currently doing the job, so it makes sense that you’d be the one to train the person hired to take your place. LUPIN.RJ: No, I mean why is Monty hiring a new editor in the middle of a fucking pandemic? POTTER.JF: An old friend of mine is in a tough spot and needs a job, so of course, dad is helping him out. - - - - OR A story set in the middle of the pandemic in which Sirius is hired at the Potter’s publishing company and Remus is responsible for training him. Lots of texting, lots of video calls, lots of mutual pining, and a lot of really bad literature quotes. [i’ve largely avoided quarantine au fics, but sometimes they’re so well-written and hilarious and also a texting fic and i accidentally fall in love with them, so here we are.]

Most recent fic I’ve read for the pairing: There Is No Man, However Wise by enigmaticblue [87k,T] It’s 1988, Sirius has Harry, and possession is nine-tenths of the law. [i adore a good raising harry au and i also adore the premise of the series this is in and i also adore the writing story and characterizations. 10/10]

Favorite AU(s) I’ve read for the pairing: High School AU: Likewise Variable by ssstrychnine [28k,T] James has plans, Peter is the nurse, Sirius keeps fake blood up his sleeves, and Remus just tries to stay alive. [i first read this fic in 2017 and it still lives rent free in my mind. it’s hilarious, a perfect characterization of the marauders (even tho it’s a muggle modern high school au) and adding shakespeare? just icing on the fucking cake. it’s excellent.] University AU: Wannabe Your Lover by Maraudererasmut & shadow_prince [15k,M] Somewhere in America, Fall of 1997 - Returning to University, James refused to room with Sirius in the wake of The Great Cheez-it Battle of '96. They must adjust to living with someone new, Mr. Potter worried they'd both get scurvy, James unsuccessfully continued trying to court one Lily Evans, Snape got what was coming to him, and Sirius was the most confused of them all. [this is the university experience we all wish we had, lowkey. aside from the hilarity that comes from having the marauders in a fic, it’s just cute and well-written and i love it (and southern remus??? it’s everything i never knew i needed.] Alternate Sorting AU (Slytherin Remus): Half Agony, Half Hope by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe [21k,E] A tale wherein Sirius Black loses 750 House Points for Gryffindor. But it’s totally worth it. [listen, if, before i read this fic, you asked me if remus could’ve been a slytherin, my answer would have been “perhaps but probably not.” now, however, yeah. 100%. it’s hilarious, it’s novel (which i love to see), but it’s still the same remus and sirius and it’s excellent.] Haunted House AU: Another Day in the Sun by REwrites [19k,T] Is it haunted? I suppose that depends on who is telling the story. [really really excellent and a little haunting (pun entirely intended). it’s romantic and sweet and a little bittersweet but i adore it.]

WIP(s) I really love for the pairing: We Were Infinite by WolfstarPups90 [336k,E] “The Marauders aren’t something that will just go away once we graduate.” James continued, taking a more serious tone and addressing not only Remus, but the fear that they all had found recently in the back of their minds about what may become of them outside the walls of Hogwarts. “We’re a family. We’ve proven that again and again, haven’t we? We’re forever. Unstoppable. We’re infinite.” The full story of The Marauders from September 1st 1971 - October 31st 1981. (Heavily centered around Wolfstar and Jily in later chapter) [the first WIP i ever read (usually i stick to completed works, but this was being pretty regularly updated when i started reading it and also it’s fucking iconic so what can i say?)] Of Leaves and Stars by irrationalmoony & LadyAmina [273k,T] Almost a year out of Hogwarts, Lily finally manages to convince Sirius and James to get more acquainted with muggle technology and buy phones. Sirius, of course, texts the wrong number. [everyone is queer! (as they well should be). also: is it complete? no. has that stopped me from reading it twice? also no.]

Favorite Series for the pairing: TransVerse by picascribit [30k,E,2 works] Canon-divergent AU in which Remus is a transgender boy instead of being a werewolf. (warnings for underage, transphobia, internalized transphobia, bullying, self-harm) [i am a trans remus stan and this series is iconic, but also heed the tags kids.]

Longest fic I’ve read for the pairing: Once in a Blue Moon by FullMoonDreams [408k,M] In a world where Remus never received his Hogwarts invitation and Sirius wasn't accepted by the Gryffindors the two lonely boys become friends. A story beginning in their first year, and continuing right through Hogwarts and beyond. RLSB. [this fic emotionally ruined me,,, but like,,, in a good way, you know? i will probably never reread it because i cried for hours the first time, but the plot does live rent free in my mind (and i do have a playlist of songs that remind me of it).]

Fic(s) with some of my favorite tropes: Matchmaking: Pining, Parchment, Plotting, and Pranks by KayBee1762 [12k,T] “Idea parchment,” James said. He unfolded it and smoothed it out. “You want to get them together, right? That’s why you came to me?” “Yeah,” Lily huffed, which was ridiculous because he was right, that’s why she came to him. But it was supposed to be her idea, because she wanted to help her dear friend Remus, not James or Sirius. But it was so nice to be able to talk about this with someone, and James looked so pleased and excited. “Good,” James said. “Good, because they need to get together, they would be so happy and so good together, and Sirius will stop sighing like a lovesick puppy and just snog him instead.” In which Lily considers changing Houses, James blushes a lot, Sirius is his usual dramatic self, Remus mopes, and Peter knew everything all along. [the marauders (especially james and lily) trying to play matchmaker is one of my favorite instances of the classic matchmaking trope.] Road Trips + Bed Sharing: Of Comets and Counter-Examples by Woldy [5k,T] If the past is a foreign country, can travel help to resolve a troubled history? Dumbledore assigns Remus and Sirius a mission to explore three European cities, or perhaps to find each other. [a lovely tale of travel, reunions, comfort, friendship, and self-rediscovery. plus, travel, bed sharing, and friends to lovers??? yeah] Matchmaking (again): In The Middle by Blossomwitch [3k,Not Rated] James is the natural confidant of both Remus and Sirius. When they both swear him to secrecy on the same topic, James is stuck watching his friends pine for each other without being able to say a word to bring them together. A lesser man might shrink from the challenge of finding a way to break his promise without breaking his promise, but not James Potter! [i already did a matchmaking trope fic i know but what can i say other than the trope fucking slaps and so does this fic.]

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Business As Usual

Criminal Minds Rockstar AU! 

Word Count: ~3890

Warnings: Implications of offscreen shenanigans, Reid and JJ being devious little shits, but nothing too wild. 

A/N: Why does this exist? Fuck if I know! Was it a fucking blast to write? Fuck yes it was! The headcanon popped into my brain fully-formed while I was driving home from work one day, @stunudo​ and @rockhoochie​ encouraged me, and here I am. This will, at some point, be tied into the SPN rockstar au that I’ve been dicking around with, but for now it’s just the BAU doing their thing! 

Business As Usual

Talking Family and Feminism With Rock’s Hottest New Band

-

There are already fans lining up outside Terminal 5 when I arrive in the afternoon. It’s the first time Business As Usual will be playing in New York since the release of their sophomore album, Wheels Up, which has become the runaway surprise hit of the summer, largely thanks to the success of the first single, “Revelations.” They’ve gone from critically praised indie darlings to the brink of mainstream stardom, seemingly overnight. 

Band manager David Rossi, for one, isn’t surprised at the sudden attention. 

Rossi is an industry vet with almost four decades of experience under his belt. He’d been retired for a couple years when a friend dragged him out to see B.A.U. playing in a dive bar. He says that within two songs, he knew “the kids,” as he calls them, would be huge. By the end of the show, he was ready to come out of retirement if they’d let him manage them. 

With attention comes scrutiny, and for most bands, the rumors would be flying already. However, B.A.U. definitely isn’t most bands; there are no whispers of groupies, crazy parties, or other rockstar antics here. When you meet them face to face, that reputation makes perfect sense. They’re quiet and quirky, and they seem like five of the unlikeliest rock stars in modern music. 

-

“Very nice to meet you, Paul,” Rossi says, turning on the charm. This one’s gonna be a piece of cake. “Now. Before we get any further, just a couple things.” 

He gives the reporter his best fuck with my kids and I will fuck you up look and makes sure the guy looks suitably intimidated before he continues. 

“First, don’t believe half of what comes out of Penelope’s mouth, at least not until you confirm with somebody else. She likes to see what ridiculous things journalists will print.” This is, obviously, a lie, but they’ve found it’s the best way to deal with Penelope’s inability to keep anything private. “Trust me. You listen to her, you’ll end up with egg on your face.” 

“No problem,” Paul says obediently. 

“Second, you do not mention Reid’s stalker. Is that clear?” 

Paul nods, but Rossi waits for a moment, until he starts wilting slightly under the stare.

“I understand,” he says, nodding emphatically, and Rossi gives him a clap on the shoulder and a big smile. 

“Wonderful. Other than that, we’re an open book. Come in, they’re just getting ready for soundcheck. Let’s get you something to drink.” 

-

Officially, the band is made up of Emily Prentiss (vocals), Derek Morgan (guitar), Jennifer “JJ” Jareau (bass), Spencer Reid (keys), and Aaron Hotchner (drums). At first glance, they don’t look like they have anything in common; most bands tend to dress in a similar style and come from similar musical backgrounds, but these five couldn’t be more different. Reid, for example, was a classical piano prodigy who graduated from Berklee at the age of seventeen, and has a tendency to dress like an absentminded professor, while Prentiss, with her Siouxsie Sioux eyeliner, dropped out of prep school to tour with a riot-girl band. 

Producer and sound tech Penelope Garcia is the unofficial sixth member of the band, and they all credit her with melding their various eclectic songwriting styles into one distinctive, experimental sound. 

Garcia is an anomaly in a male-dominated field, possibly even more so than Prentiss and Jareau, but instead of trying to blend in or prove that she’s tough enough to fit in with the rest of the crew, she makes a point to stand out. During sound check, she’s wearing a wildly colorful dress and pink heels, which match the pink streaks in her hair and her thick pink-framed glasses. When I ask whether she deals with sexism in the music industry, she just laughs. 

 “Of course there are jerks,” she says, shrugging. “There are always going to be jerks. But I know I’m good at what I do, and my band knows I’m good at what I do, and that’s what matters.” 

“And the other women? Do they get heckled or catcalled a lot?” 

“The only person who’s allowed to objectify my band is me,” Garcia says cheerfully, and then makes a face. “Kidding! I would never.”  

-

“Nicely done on that solo, hot stuff, you play that guitar almost as well as you fill out those jeans,” Penelope says into the dead mic. It goes directly to the band’s in-ear monitors, so nobody else can hear. Derek laughs and the rest of the band roll their eyes.

When they set up the extra mics and the band-to-booth-only channel, this was not what they had in mind (as Rossi keeps reminding her) but… it’s so much fun. She hasn’t made Derek crack up mid-show yet, but she’ll get there. 

“One of these days you’re gonna use the wrong channel and the entire house is gonna hear you,” JJ says into her own second mic, but she’s grinning too. 

“Let ‘em listen, they’d just be jealous,” Penelope says breezily. “Another one?” 

“Can we run ‘Eviler Twin’ with the new bridge?” Spencer asks. 

Penelope adjusts levels on his synths and shoots him a thumbs up. “You got it, Boy Wonder. Hotch, count ‘em in.” 

-

Lead singer Emily Prentiss has a larger-than-life presence from the moment she steps onstage. She’s commanding and confident, and it’s hard to take your eyes off of her, whether she’s crowdsurfing, jumping around the stage, or delivering one of her trademark fiery speeches between songs. 

When Prentiss first expressed an interest in singing, her mother hired a private vocal coach who specialized in opera, and was disappointed when her daughter showed interest in less classical genres. 

“She was pissed,” Prentiss says, smiling to herself. “I started sneaking out when I was fourteen or so and going to this one little local dive bar that got all the punk and hardcore bands. I’m still not sure how I convinced them to let me in. But seeing the Dead Kennedys made me decide I was going to be in a band. I just looked at Jello Biafra and thought, I want to do that.”  

While their music isn’t explicitly political, the band themselves aren’t shy about expressing their opinions, Prentiss in particular. 

-

“...and that’s why I never wear a bra,” Emily finishes. “Does that answer your question?” 

“I think so?” Paul says hesitantly. He’s making a noble effort not to look down at her tits. 

Emily’s pretty sure it doesn’t answer the question, not even a little bit, but she’s also pretty sure the question was about relationships, so. Fuck that question. 

Emily’s not great at press, but she is excellent at rambling about the patriarchy until people tune her out. 

-

Drummer Aaron Hotchner, best known as “Hotch,” has become the unlikely sex symbol of the band, despite being the only one who’s happily married. The attention only seems to embarrass him. 

“It’s real fun to read him thirst tweets and watch him turn colors,” Penelope says, with a devilish grin. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” 

When Hotch goes out to greet fans after the show, the female shrieks reach a deafening pitch. He greets everyone with a charming, dimpled smile and talks to each one as if there’s no one else waiting for his attention. The crowd is sizeable and some of the fans are overfamiliar, to put it mildly, but Hotch spends over an hour there, speaking to everyone individually. He remains unfailingly polite, taking pictures and signing things even after the rest of his bandmates have excused themselves for the night. 

“He’s just the sweetest,” one girl sighs to her friend as they finally head home. 

Hotch, who is notoriously unenthusiastic about talking to the press, did not want to comment. 

-

“Love you too, Jack. Take care of your mom,” Hotch is saying, as he walks through the green room door. He hangs up, and Emily can see the moment he notices Paul; his smile vanishes and his eyebrows flatten in a scowl. 

“Was that your son?” Paul asks politely. 

“Yes.” 

“How is he?” 

“Fine.” 

Paul’s smile falters for a second. “Do you talk to them every night, when you’re on the road? Touring must be tough.” 

Hotch just gives him a curt nod this time and Emily winces. Paul clears his throat. 

“So… you used to play in a grunge band, is that right?” he asks tentatively. 

Hotch gives him another stony look. “That is correct.” 

JJ opens the door, and Emily can’t help but mutter, “Oh thank fuck.” 

JJ looks between Hotch, who is holding eye contact without blinking, and a petrified Paul. Then she quirks an eyebrow at Emily, who gives her a panicked nod. 

“Hi there, you must be Paul,” JJ says warmly. She jabs Hotch discreetly in the side as she passes him. “Rossi and Morgan are getting food, Hotch, they said you should join them.” 

He looks like he’s about to protest, but Emily shoots him a look and he heads for the door. 

JJ sits next to Paul with a dazzlingly bright smile, eyelashes fluttering. “It is so nice to meet you. Reid and Garcia are in the batcave, I’m happy to take you out there, but I’m all yours if there’s anything you’d like to ask me about first.” 

Emily shoots her a thumbs-up and escapes before Paul notices. 

-

Jennifer Jareau, better known as “JJ,” has the sort of wholesome, all-American beauty that turns heads wherever she goes; she wouldn’t look out of place on a magazine cover. In fact, modeling was what led her indirectly to the band. 

JJ started playing music in her high school marching band, but never intended to pursue it seriously. She was the valedictorian of her small town’s high school and had a full scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh. Between her sophomore and junior years, though, she was spotted by a modeling agency and offered a job; it would just be one week, in Los Angeles. She says she was most excited about the opportunity to fly in an airplane for the first time. 

While in L.A., JJ met Prentiss, and the rest is history. The two women seem to work seamlessly together and frequently complete each others’ sentences, but while Prentiss is commanding and confident, JJ is soft-spoken and feminine, almost motherly. 

-

“I always wanted a family,” JJ says, with her most heartfelt Colgate-ad smile. “It ended up looking a little different than I expected, but here we are.” 

JJ’s 95% sure that’ll be the pull quote for the article. Men like Paul eat that traditional shit up with a spoon; she should probably rein it in before he jizzes himself. 

-

The “batcave,” as they call it, is so full of gear and recording equipment that I stand in the doorway while I talk to Reid and Garcia. Her desk takes up a third of the room, and it holds two laptops in addition to several sound boards and microphones. She’s putting together a rough demo of a song they started working on a couple days earlier. 

Reid, meanwhile, is sitting on the floor, surrounded by the disassembled parts of two amps, and he’s tinkering with something tiny and delicate-looking. When I ask what he’s doing, he rattles off a rapid-fire string of technical jargon, and I have to ask him to repeat himself. He looks to Garcia, who holds up her hands as if to say ‘don’t look at me,’ and Reid turns back to me to say, simply, “I’m making it sound better.” 

Reid has a tendency to speak at three times the speed of most humans, and frequently goes off on baffling tangents about everything from obscure composers to beekeeping to the origins of Halloween. It’s hard to follow, sometimes, but his bandmates seem used to it. 

When asked if anything has changed with the band’s recent success, he says thoughtfully, “I honestly haven’t noticed. None of it makes a difference to me, as long as I get to play music.” He pauses for a moment, then adds with a smile, “My high school reunion last month was very satisfying, though.” 

-

“... William Onyeabor, of course! Lately, also, a lot of Philip Glass and Gil Scott-Heron.” 

Spencer realizes he’s been staring up at the ceiling instead of talking to the reporter. He blinks and refocuses. Paul looks slightly shell-shocked. 

“So to answer your question, yes, we do spend a lot of time writing when we’re on the road,” Garcia interjects. Spencer winces. “We’ll probably have almost an album’s worth of demos by the time the tour is over. We could stay in here all day, the trick is getting Reid to remember to eat.” 

Spencer rolls his eyes. 

“So is that how you guys spend most of your spare time? Writing and playing music?” Paul asks. 

“Well, it’s not like we’re total shut-ins,” Garcia says. “We go out and have fun too. Admittedly, JJ and Emily’s idea of fun is starting bar fights, but -”

“Really?” Paul asks, looking at Spencer curiously. 

He scoffs. “No, she’s kidding.” 

Garcia, absorbed in whatever she’s doing on her laptop, continues absent-mindedly: “Well, it’s not that they start fights, but they both do Krav Maga and also attract a lot of idiots, so… idiots start bar fights and then the girls finish them. Let me tell you, you do not want to mess with JJ.” 

Paul looks at Spencer again. He shakes his head quickly. 

“I mean, can you really picture JJ in a bar fight?” he asks, forcing a laugh. 

Garcia’s still rambling. “Honestly though you really gotta watch out for this one right here. Reid’s our resident wild child.”  

He gives Paul a disarming, wide-eyed, ‘who, me?’ smile and shakes his head again. 

“Oh, man, one time in Boston he -” 

“Garcia,” Spencer interrupts. She looks up, glances at the tape recorder in Paul’s hand, and shuts her mouth hastily. Paul is starting to look suspicious.

“Ha! Just kidding,” Garcia says shrilly. “He’s a big ol’ dork, really.” 

Spencer nods earnestly, doing his best puppy eyes. “I spend most of my time reading, honestly. She’s just trying to make me seem cooler.” 

Paul’s expression clears slightly. “That… makes sense.” 

He doesn’t press for details, which is good. The legendary Boston Incident is not something Spencer needs in print. 

-

Derek Morgan learned guitar from his father, a Chicago blues artist, but says that when he began to write his own music, he immediately gravitated to classic rock. He cites Hendrix, the Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin as influences, and it’s easy to see that onstage; Morgan has the rakish charm and suggestive swagger to rival the moves of any of his idols. If anyone out of the group were to fit the mold of the traditional rockstar, I’d expect it to be him. 

The truth is much more innocuous. Offstage, he’s a perfect gentleman, respectful and chivalrous to a fault. He doesn’t drink, and he somehow finds time to work out almost every day, even when they’re on the road. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m dead boring,” he says, with a wide grin. “Truth is, none of us really fit into any of the usual boxes. That’s why we get along so well.” 

He says Garcia is his best friend in the group, and I can tell he’s fiercely protective of the band, especially the women. When asked if he’s usually the one looking out for the girls, he laughs. 

“Honestly, they’re not the ones I worry about,” he says. “But sure. We all look out for each other, really.”   

-

The bartender shows up, finally, and slides two glasses over to JJ. She knocks back the shot first. If this dumb hipster keeps slurring at her about how much artistry there is in dubstep, she’s going to need another one very soon. 

“People just don’t get it,” he says, sidling a little closer. JJ steps back. 

“Ben - Ken?” she asks, and the guy pauses, affronted. “I’m sure that’s very interesting, but you should probably know that I’m gay.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “Like, gay gay?” 

“Gayer by the second,” JJ says coolly. 

“How do you know, though?” Ken says, which is a level of douchebag she didn’t actually expect from him. He must be even drunker than he looks. 

JJ gives him a polite smile. “I’m going to go find my friends now.”

“Hey, hang on.” 

He grabs her arm as she turns away. Behind his back she can see Derek heading in their direction. She gives him a little “stand down” wave. 

“Bad idea,” she warns Ken. 

“Oh yeah? What -” 

“Back off,” Emily snaps, appearing at her side. 

Ken looks at them mutinously, and as they turn away, he mutters something that sounds like (but probably isn’t) “Duckin’ bikes.” 

“Say it to my face,” JJ tells him sweetly. “Let’s see how that goes for you.” 

“What are you gonna do about it?” he asks belligerently. 

Emily grabs one of his wrists and twists hard, while JJ gets the other. Ken yelps. 

“Everything okay here?” Derek says from behind him. He’s doing what can only be described as looming in a distinctly menacing way. “I think it’s time for you to head home, buddy.” 

“Shoo,” Emily adds. “Go on. Skedaddle.” 

Ken skedaddles. JJ can’t help but laugh.

“We had it under control,” Emily reassures Derek. 

He frowns. “You sure?”

“Just another one who thought he could cure me with his magic dick,” JJ says with a shrug. “More shots?” 

“No way, uh-uh,” Derek interrupts sternly. “Emily. Come on. You remember what happened last time you tried to outdrink JJ?” 

“It was so much fun until then, though,” JJ chirps. He knows them too well. She exchanges a look with Emily. 

“Hey, have you seen Reid lately?” Emily asks innocently, and while Derek is scanning the crowd and scowling, JJ gestures to the bartender. 

-

Only time will tell whether Business As Usual will continue to grow in popularity, but Rossi seems confident that they’re here to stay. To hear him tell it, he’s met everyone from the Stones to the Strokes (“And I have the scars to prove it!”) and he has an eye for which bands are in it for the long haul. 

He says, “Long-term success isn’t about who’s the most talented musicians or the best performers, although these guys are both. So many bands crash and burn early.” 

“Why is that? What makes you so sure these guys will be different?”

“You hear people blame it on the lifestyle, the drugs, the parties, but truth is, those don’t matter all that much as long as the band is taking care of each other.” He smiles proudly. “These guys, they’ll always have each others’ backs. They’re a team.” 

-

“You about ready to head back to the hotel?” Hotch asks quietly, lining up his shot. “This isn’t going to last much longer.” Sure enough, he sinks the ball neatly and straightens up, giving the table a calculating look. 

“Let me round ‘em up,” Derek says. “Meet you outside in five.” 

“When has it ever taken five minutes to round up this bunch?” Hotch asks wryly. “You have fifteen and then I’m leaving. Shout if you need help.” 

He spots Penelope first. She’s in the middle of the dancefloor, dancing with a guy who might as well have cartoon hearts popping out of his eyes. She’s not drunk to the point where she’s doing her signature Shitfaced Shimmy, so she won’t be too hard to wrangle. He catches her eye and taps his wrist, then points to the door, and she shoots him a thumbs up. 

Piece of cake. 

He looks around for Reid next, hoping against hope that the kid hasn’t attracted any crazy tonight. He’s not sure why or how, but Reid has proven more prone to disaster than the rest of the crew combined. If you asked Derek who in the band was most likely to get slapped, get kidnapped, get stabbed (accidentally), lose his shoes on the way back from the bathroom, get fully lost on the way to the bathroom, get hit on by a prostitute, puncture his own foot with a dart, snort something sketchy and end up wired til dawn, or befriend a mob boss, the answer would be Spencer Reid, every damn time. 

He knows this because Reid’s already done most of those things. 

Emily pops up at his side. Her level of sobriety is surprising until Derek notices the smug smile on her face and the phone number Sharpied on her arm. He gives her a fist-bump. 

“Meet you outside,” she says cheerfully. 

This might be even easier than he thought. 

“Hey, Emily,” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Have you seen Reid or JJ?” 

“JJ found me a while ago to borrow my swiss army knife,” she says thoughtfully, and then her eyes widen in realization. “She never came back and I haven’t seen Reid. Shit.” 

“Alright, you check outside, look in the alley, I’ll do a sweep around here. If Garcia’s not already outside, call Hotch.” Emily nods curtly and turns toward the door. 

Derek elbows his way around the fringes of the dance floor, scanning the crowd for JJ’s blonde hair, but no luck. He checks a couple of the out-of-the-way nooks and crannies where Reid likes to curl up to pass out, even glances under a couple tables, but there’s no sign of him. He heads for the door that leads to the hallway with the bathrooms. 

He almost runs right into JJ and Reid, who are arm-in-arm as they burst through the door. 

“Oh good,” he says, mildly surprised to see them both upright. Then Reid looks up with big, innocent eyes, sniffing and twitching his nose like a goddamn rabbit, and JJ flaps her hand urgently toward the front of the bar, stepping around Derek without breaking stride.   

“We should go,” she says quickly. “Now.” 

“What did you do?” he groans, shepherding them through the crowd. He can see them exchange a glance. JJ wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve, Emily’s multi-tool still clutched in her fist. 

“We may have rearranged some things,” Spencer mutters. 

“There might be some physics magic brewing,” JJ adds. 

Just as Derek half-shoves them through the front door, he hears a shout from the direction of the bathrooms.

Amazingly, everyone is standing on the sidewalk waiting for them. 

“Double time,” Derek says hurriedly, and they all fall into step. 

“Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Hotch says, looking at his watch. He holds a hand out to Penelope. “Pay up.” 

“Thing One and Thing Two over there were just stirring up some chaos,” Morgan explains. 

“Do I want to know?” Penelope asks, fishing a twenty out of her purse. “Is this a plausible deniability situation?”  

Emily shakes her head. “I swear, Reid, one of these days I’m going to put a leash on you, and not in a fun sexy way.” 

JJ and Reid are already half a block ahead of the rest of them, arms linked, heads together like they’re plotting again. JJ lets out one of her weird little coke-giggles and Derek can hear Reid chattering about… the Wizard of Oz, for some reason? Whatever. 

Just another day for this weird-ass bunch he calls family. 

[jalapeno-princess]

Sweet tooth

Architect Mark X Baker reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Extremely cheesy fluff

Summary: As soon as you graduated from culinary school, you wanted to follow your dream in opening your own bakery but you had no idea where to start. Your professor recommends an architect to help you make your dreams a reality but little did you know, you’d be falling in love with said architect the longer he helped you out on the project.

A/N: Hi guys! I have a few more requests in my inbox and I just wanted to let you all know that I didn’t forget about you it’s just that my mom has been sick so I’ve been taking care of her and all the house duties so I haven’t had much free time to write stories but here is the architect Mark anon! I hope you enjoy! In all honesty, I feel like this was rushed and it’s one of the stories I’ve written that I care about the least because I feel that it’s all over the place but it’s fine lol

Opening your own bakery has been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember. You’ve been baking all sorts of cakes, pies, cookies, breads and pastries since you were seven years old. Whenever you’d visit your grandparent’s house during the summertime, your grandmother would always take you to the bakery down the road for a little treat. 

The sweet aroma of the different jams they used along with the smell of yeast and baked bread would immediately fill your nose as soon as you walked in and you were always excited to see all the different types of desserts out on display. Right after your grandmother would finish paying for your choice of confection, she would bring you towards the window where you’d be able to watch the bakers preparing and making all of the delicious treats. 

As you got older, your love for baking only increased. You’d make all sorts of treats in your downtime causing your mom to freak out by the mess you would leave once you were done mixing all your ingredients together. You went straight in to culinary school right after graduating from high school and even took on a part time job at the bakery a few blocks down from your house. On the days that you weren’t at work or school, you would be in the kitchen coming up with and testing out many different recipes that you would plan to sell at your own bakery one day. Whenever, you did go to work, the day always seemed to go by very quickly. Time seems to fly by very quickly when you’re having fun and you always seemed to have a good time when you were in your element. 

Because you were very passionate and dedicated to your craft and couldn’t wait to graduate in order to start up your own business, you began taking on more classes and cutting back on hours at the bakery in order to graduate sooner. There were nights where you cried over how frustrating school could be and you got so stressed out to the point where your pastries weren’t coming out the way you wanted them to. However, you had a dream and you were determined to achieve your goals in the timeline that you set up for yourself. 

Only three years after you entered college, you graduated culinary school with your bachelor’s degree and you couldn’t be more excited to finally start working on your project. Unfortunately, you didn’t know where to start. You were so focused on the baking aspect that you failed to come up with where you’d want your bakery located, how big you wanted it to be and who you needed to hire in order to help you set up your space. Hell, you still had yet to find other bakers and cashiers to help you manage the shop and you soon grew discouraged at the thought of how much time and effort you had to put in to starting up your bakery. 

It took you a couple of months to put a plan together before you actually got to make your dreams a reality, but you wanted to make sure you had your ideas written down on paper before reaching out to people for their help. One of your culinary professors was kind enough to refer you to one of her friend’s son’s construction company to help you plan out the building of your bakery. After she sent you his contact information, you decided to do some research on the architect before contacting him to make sure he was the right candidate to help build the bakery you’ve always dreamt of. 

When you pulled up his website and saw all the great reviews and how people practically raved over what an amazing company he owned and how great the projects would turn out, you found yourself dialing his phone number and inquiring about how much it would cost and how long it would take to build your bakery. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was by the many photos that showed up under his name. He had a long, skinny face with curly brown hair, the prettiest smile and the cutest little dimples. People like that worked in construction? You knew you should’ve listened to your father when he told you to become a mechanical engineer. 

You were nervous to say the least about consulting with him. It was obvious that he’s been doing this for years. He’s designed skyscrapers, buildings, condominiums, mansions and town houses. His line of work went beyond that of your tiny little bakery, but it didn’t hurt to see if he’d be willing to design your cute little shop. He was very soft spoken over the phone and offered to meet you at a coffee shop later in the afternoon if you were free. Since you were so adamant on wanting to open your bakery within the next year and a half, you found yourself quickly agreeing in excitement.

 As you drove over to the coffee shop you agreed to meet him at, you couldn’t help the smile that rose on your face at the idea of things finally coming together for you. Sure, there was still a lot for you to do and so many people you still had to contact, but this was the most important thing you had to get done. When you walked in to the cafe and spotted him in the corner by the bookshelf, you began to approach him and the smile he sent in your direction made your heart flutter. 

“Hey! You must be y/n. Nice to meet you. Can I get you something to drink before we get started?” 

You looked at him in curiosity before politely shaking your head in disagreement. “I should be the one offering to buy you something! You’re doing me a favor. Thank you for coming to meet with me by the way. It’s like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.” He giggled slightly and pulled out a notepad. After the two of you put in your drink orders and playfully argued about who was going to pay, you headed back to the table and he started to ask you a few questions about the location and size of the bakery that you had in mind. 

Once you gave him all the information, he began to draw out an idea of what he felt you would like and you were excited to see your plans coming out on paper. As you watched him draw out his ideas, you were quick to notice how focused he was and how much detail he put in to his work. It was extremely admirable.

“I’m sorry if this project is nothing compared to all of the amazing work that you’ve done so far but—“ He looked at you with the most adorable pout on his face and you were sure your heart was going to combust at the sight. 

“Don’t be silly y/n! I love every single project that I get to work on. Honestly, this is the first time I’m working on building a bakery, so I’m very excited to see how it’ll turn out. With the way you told me about how passionate you are about baking and how you’ve been wanting to open your own bakery for a while now, this is definitely not nothing.” 

He sent you a toothy grin and returned back to his sketching. Throughout your time together, the two of you conversed about many different things. You were surprised to hear that he had no plans of getting in to construction and architecture and that he actually had plans of becoming a pilot. However, when he took art in his freshman year, it was his professor that told him to look in to becoming an architect. The way his eyes would light up when he went in to detail about how he’s always loved to draw and do all kinds of sketches made you feel warm inside. 

He reminded you of yourself. Just like you, he’s loved drawing, painting and sketching from the time he was young but he never thought he could use his talent in the real world; so he pushed the idea of becoming a professional artist or having a job that had anything to do with drawing in general to the back of his mind. Hearing about how it took him a couple of years to set up his company worried you; you didn’t think it would take that long to open up your bakery but he assured you when he saw the glum look on your face that it was a different situation. 

“I had to make sure I was hiring the right people, that they all had insurance, I had to find a place to set up my company—there was a lot I had to do to make sure my employees were covered and then I had to make contracts with the state. I needed more than just other architects. I had to hire construction workers, estimators, carpenters, project engineers, electricians and so many other types of workers. That’s why it took a while. But planning, setting up and building your bakery won’t take too long. I’d say three months tops. I’m actually stoked to see how it’ll turn out and I can’t wait for it to open. I’ll bring this in to work with me tomorrow and we’ll get started on your shop as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you y/n, I had a great time. I’ll stay in contact with you and try to update you on what we’re doing so there’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about okay? You can trust me. I hope to see you again soon.” 

Once he left the coffee shop, you took a few minutes to process your entire meeting with him. He was nothing short of a gentleman. He always made eye contact with you whenever you talked to him, he was very attentive, threw in a few jokes in order to make sure you were comfortable and always asked for your opinion to make sure you agreed with everything he was doing. He had called you that following Monday to give you a rough estimate of how much everything would cost and to let you know how long it would take to build. 

You found yourself developing a small little crush on the architect in the short amount of time that you’ve known him for, but how could you not? He was extremely patient with you, curious about your likes and dislikes, very passionate about his work, determined, soft spoken yet easy to converse with and he seemed like a very genuine person. Over the course of a few months, he kept his promise of keeping you updated on the progress of your bakery. He also invited you a few times to watch it actually getting built and to your surprise, he had a helmet customized specifically for you. 

There were days that he would call you just to see how you were doing and how everything was going with the other responsibilities that came with opening a bakery. You couldn’t help but feel as if there was more to his calls and supportive little text messages and you were sure architects never were this involved with their clients but you didn’t mind. You loved talking to and spending as much time with Mark that you possibly could. 

Finally, the day came where his company were finished with building your bakery and to say you were happy with how it came out was an understatement. It was everything you could have wanted and more. The kitchen was huge and Mark had explained to you that it was because he wanted you and your employees to have enough space to move around without having to worry about getting in each other’s way. There was an office, storage room, freezer and bathroom. He even made a closet and an area for your employees to place their belongings. Even the store front was spacious. It was perfect. You never once doubted that Mark would do an amazing job, but seeing the final product made you speechless. 

“So, how do you like it?” Absentmindedly, you jumped in to his arms and buried your face in to his neck. 

“It’s perfect! I love it so much. Thank you Mark! You’re amazing.” He smiled lightly against your cheek and held you closer to his embrace. When you came to the realization that you were holding him, no matter how much you loved the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, you found yourself pulling away and apologizing in embarrassment. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I wanted to make sure it turned out the way you wanted it to.” He would never admit it to you, but there were nights where he stayed up till the wee hours of the morning in order to put together teams with some of his best workers to help out with building your bakery and to pull some strings with the owner of the land that you wanted to have your bakery located at. 

At first, Mark had a hard time understanding why he was going above and beyond to make sure your bakery turned out the way you’ve dreamt it to. Out of all the many projects he’s worked on so far, your bakery was the one he actually helped work on the most. He went to the construction site almost every single day to make sure it was coming out perfectly. It took him a while to realize it, but when he would hear the excitement in your voice and saw the breathtaking smile rise on your face whenever he would inform you about how your bakery was coming along, he knew he had more than just friendly feelings for you.

There were times where he’d sit in his office and work on other projects, but his mind would always wander off to you. Your bright and positive personality send a warm feeling to Mark’s chest and he couldn’t help but want to act on his feelings for you. When you came to the realization that you would no longer need to stay in contact with Mark anymore, you were upset to say the least but there was nothing you could do about it. 

“Did you need help with bringing in the appliances and setting up the plumbing?” The idea of getting to have Mark in your life for just a little longer caused you to scream internally and the word yes was on the tip of your tongue, but the realist in you gave him a sad smile. 

“You’ve already done so much for me so far, I don’t want to continue being a burden and I’m sure you have more important things to work on—“ he gave you a knowing look and interrupted you before you could continue to feel bad over the thought of everything he’s already done to support you and your bakery. 

“Nonsense y/n, I want to help you. Plus, I have some connections that could really help with making this the best bakery ever.” 

You giggled softly. “No matter how beautiful you end up making this place, I doubt it’ll be that popular. I’m sure there are many more bakeries out there that are way more popular with better products. I’m not all that special.” 

The gentle squeeze on your wrist pulled you out of your self pity and before you knew it, you were being pulled against his chest. “Stop that. Stop thinking that you’re anything less than all that you are. You are extremely special y/n. I’ve never seen someone so passionate and so in love with their job as much as you clearly are. This bakery is everything you’ve wanted and more and no matter what you think, it’s going to be the best bakery in town. I don’t care if I have to dress up as a croissant and pass out fliers to people in order to get business booming, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure this bakery becomes successful.” 

You were sure that if Mark were to look at you, you’d be as red as a tomato. His words sent fire to your bones. When you felt him wrap his arms around your waist, you looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for all that you’ve done to me. Thank you so much Mark.” 

With the way you were looking up at him with so much gratitude in your eyes, Mark wanted to close the space between your lips and release all the feelings he had developed for you through a kiss. Before he could do anything he’d regret, he placed his chin on the top of your head to prevent him from connecting his lips with yours. God knows that if Mark were to stare at your pretty pink lips any longer, he wouldn’t be able to control himself and his desire to feel your lips against his. 

“You don’t owe me anything. All I want for you to do is to have faith in yourself. Be more confident. Don’t you ever doubt yourself or say anything negative about yourself anymore okay? Make me proud y/n.” 

Once you got everything settled with the bank, insurance company, plumbing company and kitchen appliance company, you began to work on furnishing your bakery. Mark would head straight to your bakery once he finished work in order to help you set things up against your pleas that he’d go home and rest. You didn’t want to be a burden on him and you were sure he was probably exhausted from work; but you weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t enjoy his presence. 

Knowing that he wanted to continue to help you out although his part of the project was already over with made your heart happy. You wanted to believe it was because just like you, he enjoyed spending time with and being around you. However, you would mentally scold yourself for thinking like that and making up scenarios in your head of the two of you starting up a relationship together. In the moments that he came and helped you move your furniture, went with you shopping for necessities, ingredients, decorations, uniforms and everything else that you were in need of, your feelings for him only grew stronger. 

When you were back at the bakery, he would play some music on his phone and the two of you would dance and sing along as you worked on getting everything set up and making sure all areas of your bakery were ready for opening. There were times that you caught him looking at you and other times that he would “accidentally” touch your waist and lower back if he tried to pass behind you. No matter how long you’d spend with him, you’d always miss him whenever he would leave. Sometimes, you would order food for the both of you as an excuse to extend your time together. Mark was someone who you loved being around. 

The constant support he gave you along with the many compliments about your talent and sometimes even your looks never failed to make your heart flutter. You could only wish there was a reason he would stay in your life once this was all over. Finally the opening a day came and you were overwhelmed with so many emotions. Sure, you were excited. Your dream was finally coming true. But the doubts and worries of nobody showing up wouldn’t leave your mind at all for the few days leading up to today. Unfortunately, Mark had let you know that he wasn’t going to be able to make it because he had a few meetings he had to attend to and the news made you even more upset than you already were. Mark had practically set this entire place up. He was the reason everything came together just the way you wanted it to so it was only natural for you to want him in attendance. Plus, knowing he was there would help you relax and the thought of him would block out any other negative thoughts that were currently bringing you down. However, his cute little supportive text messages did make you calm down a bit but your heart rate fluttered at his sweet words. 

“Hey boss, you’re gonna want to take a look at this.” One of your pastry chefs motioned for you to follow her outside and when you saw just how many people were waiting outside for you to open made tears brim at your eyes. Were they all really there for your opening? But how did they all hear about it? You paid to put an ad in a few newspapers but that was pretty much it. You didn’t think it would bring in at least two hundred people right outside your storefront but you were extremely over the moon. 

“Hi guys! Thank you so much for coming today. It genuinely means everything to me. I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a little girl and I’m so excited to have you all try my pastries. The cake fairy is finally open for business!” 

Hearing the crowd cheer as you cut open the rope and allowed people to come in made your heart race. It took you a while to finally take everything in and to come to the realization that all these people were here for your desserts. For recipes that you came up with years ago in school when you were actually supposed to be studying for finals. Nobody other than your family and friends have tried your treats, so this was the first time anyone else was going to be tasting it and your heart felt like it was going to bust out of your chest. When you saw the first few customers take bites out of your pastries and saw the smiles on their faces while they murdered just how good it was, you released a breath of relief. 

The day went by extremely quick but that’s because you had so much to do. You had to help take orders and serve people while running to the back and helping out with baking. You were afraid of running out of things to sell but you and your team tried your best to make sure that everybody got what they wanted. Some customers asked to talk to you personally and wouldn’t stop raving over your desserts and congratulating you on your success. It was such a heartwarming feeling seeing all your hard work and passion come together. 

After such a successful work day, you thanked all of your employees for their hard work and sent them home with some pastries while you stayed back to clean everything and to take a few minutes to yourself. As you began to wipe down the countertops, you heard a soft knock at the door and at first, you were alarmed seeing as how it was nearing 10 p.m. but when you saw your favorite smile peeking at you through the glass, you immediately dropped what you were doing and ran to the door. 

“Hi there my favorite little puff pastry! How was it? I heard the line went on for hours. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be here to see it.” He handed you a bouquet of sunflowers and a teddy bear dressed up as a chef. The reason why Mark wasn’t there for your opening was because he had a few tricks up his sleeve. You weren’t able to see the billboards he set up throughout your city, nor did you have the time to watch tv and see your ad being played every other commercial. He meant it when he said he was going to do whatever he could to help you succeed and it was mainly because he loved seeing that contagious smile of yours when things went your way. 

“It’s fine Mark. I understand, but thank you for being here right now and thank you for these gifts. I’m more at ease now that you’re here. Today was perfect. There were so many people and everyone seemed to really enjoy my desserts. I’m still having a hard time processing that all those people were here for my treats. It’s such an indescribable feeling and I couldn’t have done any of this without you so thank you.” With the way he was looking at you as if you were the one who set all the stars up in the sky, you felt as if you would melt in to a puddle right there. 

“Don’t mention it. Honestly, you could sell your cakes in a grungy and disgusting bathroom and people will still come. I’m sure they taste just as amazing as they look.” You asked him to follow you in to the kitchen while you brought out the cake you prepared for him the night before as a small thank you for everything that he’s done for you. It wasn’t anything too over the top; just a two tiered chocolate cake with a peanut butter cream cheese filling and the words thank you next to some sketches and a construction hat. The smile that rose on his face made your cheeks warm and you couldn’t help but mirror it back to him. 

“Wow y/n, this cake looks amazing. You’re really talented. I can’t believe I’m the first one to receive a cake made by the renowned baker y/n y/l/n. Don’t forget me when you become famous okay?” You playfully rolled your eyes as you brought out a couple other desserts and placed it on a plate for him. 

“These were the best sellers of today. Tell me what you think.” He began to take a bite out of everything and for some reason, you found yourself getting nervous at what he would think. Mark’s opinion meant the most to you. You were afraid that he wouldn’t think all too highly of your creations but when you saw him practically vacuum your strawberry shortcake, you had to stifle back a laugh. 

“I’m sorry, I must look so messy but this is so good. Damn y/n, I’m gonna need about two dozen of these to go. I’m going to eat one at every meal for the rest of this week. I’m not even kidding this is delicious—“ you couldn’t help but bring your thumb up to the corner of his lip in order to wipe away some left over strawberry cream. He looked adorable and hearing him say such nice things about your strawberry shortcake made you grin like an idiot. You weren’t able to notice the way he looked at you while gliding your finger against his mouth, so you had no idea that Mark was practically near his breaking point. 

Before you could do or say anything else, his lips were on yours. It was a breathtaking feeling, literally. His lips were soft against yours and he brought both his hands up to your cheeks, cupping it all but gently while continuing to kiss you like his life depended on it. The way he was kissing you with so much passion and fervor made your head spin. He brought his hands down to your waist and hoisted you up on to the counter top but his lips never once left yours. You tried your best to keep up with his quick pace but you were still in shock that this was all happening. 

Mark felt as if his body was in flames while you felt like you were consumed by the ocean. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes, not being able to get enough of one another and when you felt Mark moan in to the kiss, you knew things were getting hot and heavy. To Mark’s dismay, you pulled away in order to catch your breath but placed your forehead against his. He wrapped his arms around your hips as he left gentle kisses all around your face. 

“Wow. That was—you are—wow. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for quite some time now. I hope you know that there’s going to be a lot more from where that came from.” You beamed up at him and playfully booped his nose. 

“The feeling is mutual, trust me. I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met at the coffee shop. I haven’t been the same since you’ve came in to my life but I like it like that. You’ve brought in so much positivity in to my life and I’d like to think I’m more outgoing and confident because you make me want to be. I want to be someone you are proud of. Someone who has a good head on her shoulders. Someone whose good enough for you, Mr.Oh so successful and extremely dreamy architect that all kinds of people; business men, CEOs, entrepreneurs and other construction companies go crazy over. I can’t blame them though, I’m crazy for you too.” He picked up some frosting from one of the cupcakes you gave him and smeared it on your cheek earning himself an adorable whine. 

“All these desserts yet you’re the sweetest thing here—hey! Come back here y/n! You’re lucky I love you—oh.” Hearing those three words fall from his mouth sent you in to a frenzy and the two of you completely ignored the fact that Mark now had guava jelly on his dress shirt. 

“You what?” He brought his hand up to the back of his neck and scratched it out of embarrassment. 

“I said I love you. I’m sorry, was that too fast? I totally understand if you don’t feel the same just yet and it might be kind of early for me to say this—“ he was quick to smile in to the kiss once your lips connected with his as your attempt to get him to shut up. 

“I love you too. What do you say we get cleaned up here and head back to my place? You can be my taste tester for some new recipes I’ve been planning.”

He began to run his hands along your sides painstakingly slowly and it was obvious that he was trying to rile you up but you weren’t letting him mess with you that easily. “I have an even better idea. I can make us some dinner and then I can eat you for dessert.” He sucked on the juncture of your neck but frowned once he felt you pull away. “Babe! Come on, I bet you taste just as good as you look too!”

[ahh-fxck]

22 and 28 Geraskier pleasee 🥺

Oh boy! This one sure took me a few days to come up with, but once it got going, it was really enjoyable to write. I stopped before I got to the NSFW part because I don’t know your preferences, but I might be convinced to follow it up on Ao3 with some smut if that’s your cuppa. Anyhow. On to the drabble!!

22 - Jealous 28 - “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

It all started one spring when Julian Alfred Pankratz, professor of Oxenfurt University, rejoined Geralt on the Path. Geralt had been waiting on a high hill over the city in a meeting place they had chosen long ago.

Inside the gates, Julian had packed away his life at Oxenfurt and donned his travel clothing. Striding out of the gate dressed in his high boots and sturdy doublet (well, more sturdy than the ones he wore in the city,) he spotted Geralt atop Roach in the distance at their usual meeting place. And just like that, Julian Pankratz was left behind and he was again Jaskier, bard extraordinaire and loyal companion of one grumpy Witcher. The wind blew from behind him, carrying his scent up to Geralt, who was looking at him with a more wooden expression than usual.

Over the years Geralt had noticed many different smells on him, from lavender to oak moss, but none of them had particularly pleased him. Some of them burned his sensitive nose. None of them had been like this scent rolling up the hill now… It made him smell like a dessert. As Geralt finally spotted him walking up the path out of the city, he hadn’t been sure if he was more intrigued or upset by this delicious smelling change. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier called up the path, hitching his lute case and bag over his shoulder and breaking into a jog.

Roach stirred as she heard Jaskier approaching, her ears flickering eagerly. Geralt rumbled a soothing noise to her, then lifted his nose to the wind. The scent rolling up the hill in the spring air was unmistakably Jaskier, but…

As the bard approached Geralt dismounted, narrowing his eyes. He grabbed Jaskier’s wrist and stuck his nose into his sleeve, then pulled at his doublet and sniffed near the neck of it, frowning. Jaskier laughed, batting him away with gentle hands.

“Hello, Geralt! Nice to see you too!”

“You smell like an apple cake,” Geralt accused, stepping back and fixing Jaskier with a glare.

“I what? Oh! Of course!” Giving a little flourish, Jaskier gestured to his bag. “A most helpful apothecary made me some cinnamon oil for my journey this year. Delightful, isn’t it?” He fixed Geralt with a winning smile. Geralt’s frown deepened.

“Why?”

“Well, dear Witcher, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m forty-six years old!” Jaskier replied, patting him on the elbow before walking past him to greet Roach with an apple he’d saved specially for her. “I daresay it should help keep the aches and pains at bay on rainy days, my friend. That’s why.” Cooing, he stroked Roach gently and fed her the apple. Geralt tolerated this with ill grace, but waited until Roach was done before stepping between her and the bard like an overprotective hen.

He realized his mistake as soon as he’d made it. Up close, the natural scent of Jaskier intertwined with the cinnamon odor. The combination was delicious. It was maddening. Closing his eyes, he was just in time to hide his pupils blowing out and potentially giving him away.“Get away from Roach,” he barked, but with no real heat behind it. Jaskier smiled and patted his shoulder before stepping away.

“Where to, old friend?” He asked, making a wide gesture at the world around them, eager to embrace the many adventures in store.

Geralt mounted Roach quickly to get away from that maddening, mouthwatering odor and grunted. Scanning the undulating green landscape, he saw no danger around them. Up here the wind was clearer, and he relaxed slightly.

“South,” he said shortly. Spurring his horse, he headed that way up the road.

“South it is!” Jaskier exclaimed, turning to follow him.

After that, cinnamon followed Geralt everywhere. It was on the innkeeper’s daughter as they left a town. The stableboy in another village. Even, at one memorable occasion, their hostess. Geralt had returned from a particularly challenging monster hunt to find her reeking of it, and the bard was nowhere to be found. For reasons he couldn’t entirely understand, he was so upset that he barely remembered to collect his bounty before storming out to track down the bard.

Nights at inns, never easy on Geralt’s nerves with the rambunctious bard, became torture. Jaskier would sing, and charm, and linger under the hands of flirtatious patrons as he entertained. Every time someone would walk past Geralt with that little whiff of cinnamon on their fingers, or worse, their trousers, he found himself grinding his teeth.

Soon, he found himself unconsciously sitting closer and closer to the bard every night as he sang. In his opinion, people were becoming too handsy with his bard. Too many people coming away with Jaskier’s scent on them, being marked by his bard. He glowered at people from behind Jaskier, giving them long flat looks of warning until they would slowly back away. Somehow, Jaskier had gone from being the bard to his bard, but he hadn’t noticed the switch.

And one night, he reached a breaking point. Some comely lad slid up to the counter next to his bard one evening, casually leaning in to press against his side and offer him a compliment and a drink. Without meaning to, Geralt found himself snapping, “Don’t touch him!”

The near area of the inn went quiet as people looked at the little scene, startled young man, startled bard, and angry Witcher all eyeing each other uneasily. The young man looked between the two of them, blanched as Geralt fixed him with a steady glare, and backed off with a quick apology. Jaskier turned and eyed Geralt, a thoughtful twinkle in his eye.

“Geralt… what are you doing?” Jaskier asked, turning slowly to face him. Geralt’s face, if possible, went flatter than ever.

“Nothing.” He grunted, then hid his face in his tankard, taking a long swallow of his beer.

“Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think so,” Jaskier said, putting his finger on the edge of the mug and gently pushing it aside. “Come with me, Geralt. We need to talk.”

Geralt fixed him with a hot glower, but Jaskier was unimpressed. Geralt locked eyes with him. Jaskier raised an eyebrow and stared back, a little smile crinkling the corners of his bright eyes. Though he tried to hold out, Geralt’s will eventually crumbled under that kind, humorous gaze and he looked away.

“Fine…” He grumbled, but downed the rest of his beer before he stood. They’d had a successful contract in the last town and plenty of coin, so he had been downing the local ale at a prodigious rate. He felt a little warm under the collar as he followed Jaskier into the hallway, away from the prying eyes of the patrons. The summer evening was hot, and in the enclosed space of the hall he found himself swimming in the intoxicating smell of Jaskier’s sweat and cinnamon body oil.

Jaskier backed him gently into a corner, eyes glittering wickedly. “Something’s different, Geralt. What is it?”

Geralt growled back at him, unwilling to engage the subject. Jaskier poked him gently in the chest. “Speak up, or I’ll never let this drop. Do you want me to wake you up in the middle of the night to talk about this? Or! I could compose a ballad!” He grinned wickedly as Geralt’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, seeing Geralt’s resolve cracking. Clearing his throat, he made as if to begin singing. Geralt grabbed him by the wrists, giving him a very gentle shake.

“Stop.” Geralt replied in a low, rough voice.

“Or what?” Jaskier replied. He looked up and down Geralt’s body, lingering on his face. Then, he stepped just a little bit closer. “You’ve been scaring people off for weeks now.” Another step, their chests just barely brushing. “You’ve never done that before.” His tongue darted across his lips, and he noticed Geralt’s pupils flick into cat slits as they tracked the movement. A slow smile spread across his face.

“If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” Looking out at Geralt from under his eyelashes, Jaskier bit his lip playfully. He was rewarded with a bubbling growl, and he noticed Geralt’s nostrils flaring. Pleasure thrummed through Jaskier as he took this in, thrilling at the sudden pull between them. Eyes twinkling merrily, Jaskier reached up and very, very slowly rubbed his cinnamon scented wrist all over the front of Geralt’s shirt. The bubbling growl deepened in tone, and the hairs all over Jaskier’s body stood happily on end.

“Geralt… are you jealous?” He cocked his head to the side and eyed the Witcher, who stared back at him, breath coming shallower and quicker than usual. For the first time ever, Jaskier was certain he was able to see hunger on the Witcher’s face, difficult to read though it was. Jaskier’s smile turned wicked. He leaned just a little bit closer, working his hands free from the Witcher’s suddenly limp fingers.

“Hmmmm…” Jaskier purred, then softly turned away, brushing his hip against Geralt’s side. “Too bad I’ll never find out,” he teased, walking away. “It’s getting late, Geralt. I’ll be up in the room if you need me.”

Geralt stared after him mutely, feeling hot and prickly all over. As the bard vanished around the corner and up the stairs, he found himself stalking after him, following the scent of cinnamon through the inn and in through the door of their room.

He slammed the door behind him and pounced. Through the solid oak could be heard a startled cry from the bard, laughter… and then a breathless groan of startled pleasure as the bed creaked beneath the weight of two bodies.

[milky-mochi]

before you (2) | cyj

genre: nerd! yeonjun, nerd! reader, aged up! yeonjun, college! au, boyfriend! yeonjun

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader

summary: falling in love with choi yeonjun was like breezing through the chapters of a book, with highlights of him bookmarked in your head.

listen to: 🎶 me after you - paul kim 🎶

chapters: intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

the first time you realised you liked yeonjun, you couldn’t believe you had been blind to it for so long.

four months had passed since that first day of library club. since then, you and yeonjun formed a friendship you had come to depend on. it started out by sitting next to each other during lectures. then, it evolved into study calls, which turned into talking on the phone for hours. at the height of it all, your weekly study sessions.

thursdays were reserved for your time with yeonjun, when you both would sit at the cute little cafe across the road and pour over your books. misery felt a little less bad when done with another person.

initially, you were just there for the friendship. the study sessions became a source of comfort. the both of you were working hard to keep your reputation afloat, and yeonjun was the only one who understood your struggles. he felt your pain and your joy. there was sincere companionship in this boy that you had never found in anyone before.

eventually, these meetings meant more and more to you. they became the highlight of your day, before climbing its way into becoming the highlight of your week. before you knew it, you depended on it so much that just thinking about it brought you excitement.

but you didn’t even realise it then. you did, however, in one study session.

one thursday, your professor asked to see you after class. at first, you didn’t want to go for it. you were waiting anxiously to go see yeonjun instead. the temptation to give your professor an excuse and run off was overwhelming, but he did mention giving you some good news, and the overachiever in you had to give in.

picking up your phone, you speedily dialed yeonjun’s number. he picked up after only three rings of the dial tone, startling you. in the background, you heard the sound of cars driving by, indicating that yeonjun was already off campus.

“hey y/n! i’ll be there in a few, i’m walking over now!”

“hey yeonjun, i’m so sorry, i’m gonna be late. my professor has something to tell me so he asked me to meet him after class. i’ll probably be like, 15 minutes.”

you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting his voice to fall in disappointment or disapprovement and your heart to twist in pain. instead, his chirpy voice rang in your ears. “oh it’s okay don’t worry about it! i hope it’s good news?”

you sighed in relief, releasing a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. “he slipped that it was regarding a new opportunity, so it should be good?”

“hell yeah! go get that thing! whatever it is! i’ll wait for you at the cafe, yeah?” yeonjun said.

you laughed before humming in agreement. seeing your professor bidding you to come over, you ended the call and made your way over to his desk.

“hi professor, you wanted to see me?”

“right, y/n,” your professor started, gathering a stack of papers, “you know about the praestantia award right?”

everyone knew what the praestantia award was. it was the most prestigious scholarship a person your age could get. the scholarship was a guaranteed ticket to all the embellishments on your portfolio. all the opportunities you were dying for would easily be within your reach.

“yes of course, sir.”

“well it’s nomination period, and the english faculty has decided to nominate you under the language category,” he said, handing you an envelope. “i’ve emailed you the portal for the application, and these are the resources you’ll need to complete your application. thank you for all your hard work, y/n.”

receiving the envelope with a nod, you smiled graciously at your professor. your heart was beating out of your body with excitement. all your hard work had finally paid off into something you could be proud of. as soon as you saw your professor leave, you scooped your bag out and dashed out of the lecture theatre, heading straight for the cafe.

after running at top speed, you reached the cafe. grabbing the handles of the glass front doors, you swung them open. inside, yeonjun sat comfortably, staring down at his books. a single earbud was in his ear as he picked his pen up to write something down. his coffee sat patiently beside his pencil case.

“hey yeonjun i’m so sorry i’m late,” you sighed, sliding into your seat. after placing your bag down, you took another look at the table. raising your eyebrows, you asked, “what’s all this?”

yeonjun flashed you a sheepish smile. “well, you said you were gonna get good news, so i wanted your coffee to be here by the time you were. i got you a cake too!” he said, gesturing to the second drink and plate in front of him. “i got your favourite, hot white chocolate mocha, and the red velvet cake. i even got them to add marshmallows into the coffee, since we come here so often.”

you felt like melting, like said marshmallows were melting into your mocha.

he remembered your order. not only did he remember it perfectly, he remembered the coffee you drank for celebration, which was different from the coffee you drank when you were sad (a cold brew with coconut milk and extra sugar, yeonjun remembered that too).

“yeonjun, oh my goodness, thank you so much,” you gushed, “how much was the coffee and the cake? i’ll pay you back-”

“don’t worry about it,” yeonjun waved, melting you with yet another smile, “my treat. you deserve this, y/n.”

shit.

it was at that moment awareness knocked on the door of your mind. everything fell in place: all the stolen glances, all your smiles at the thought of him. this was the moment you realised your oblivion melted away to reveal what you had been blind to: you liked choi yeonjun.

it was, however, a very weird moment for you to realise. it was nothing like all the love scenes you had read in your books. usually the female lead came to this epiphany when the male lead hugged her in the spur of the moment, or when she got jealous of another girl, or even when he brushed his hand against hers to reach for something.

but no. you realised you liked yeonjun because he bought you coffee and a cake.

but it really did mean a lot to you. it meant so much that yeonjun cared for you enough to want to celebrate your good news, without even knowing what it was for. he made you feel seen. so, maybe, it wasn’t that weird at all.

“thank you, yeonjun,” you thanked him once again.

he smiled and told you to try the cake. you complied, picking up the fork and scraping a piece off its side. when you tasted it, your face lit up. yeonjun laughed at your smile and offered you a napkin to wipe the cream cheese frosting from the corner of your mouth.

over cake and coffee, you talked instead of studying, for the first time this semester. usually, your conversations would unfold on the way to the bus stop afterwards, and on the bus home. but that day was not a usual day, given the two new pieces of information that had shaken your world. that day, the both of you had synced mentally, subconsciously aware of the fact that both of you wanted companionship, and not to study.

you talked for a long time, about anything and everything. about all the weird times you’d experienced together: the time you caught two people making out during library club, the time your professor brought his dog to class, the time an old lady asked you guys for a recommendation on the cakes and then bought you said cake. you talked until every drop of coffee had been sipped and the white plate by your side held nothing but maroon crumbs.

once yeonjun realised that you were both finished, he asked, “by the way, what did your professor want to tell you just now?”

“oh,” you said, mouth full of your last bite of cake. you swallowed it before continuing with a proud smile staining your face. “he told me the english faculty is nominating me for the praestantia award. under the language category!”

yeonjun let out a laugh, a mixture of surprise, happiness and pride. he put his hand up, offering you a high five. “y/n that’s incredible! you deserve it so much!”

smiling brightly, you high fived yeonjun. in his excitement, yeonjun held your hand and shook it as he commended you on your achievement. he gushed about all the opportunities it would bring you, about how high you could fly with that award. he didn’t even realise your hand in his.

a blush crept up on your cheeks as you felt yeonjun’s fingers on your. how else could you respond when the guy you liked held your hand, and didn’t even realise it?

it took yeonjun a while, but when he did realise, he pulled his hand away, the same way you did the first time you placed your hand on his shoulder during library club. under his breath, he muttered a sorry as he darted his gaze away from you. you swore you could have seen a light pink dust his cheeks too.

yeonjun cleared his throat to try clearing the awkwardness lingering in the air. “well you did amazing y/n. i’m so proud of you! we should go celebrate.”

your ears perked up at his words. he wanted to celebrate your achievement? with just the two of you? your heart picked up speed as you nodded meekly, unwilling to reveal what you were actually thinking.

“where do you wanna go?” yeonjun asked, almost nervously, as he placed his hands on the table.

“the new bookshop across town,” you answered, almost too quickly. “i heard they have cats in it, and they publish their own poetry. they publish their books with the binding i like.”

“the ones with a wide margin before the text starts?” yeonjun asked. he didn’t know why he did, if he was being honest. of course he remembered your favourite type of book binding. you liked it that way because then you could read without creasing the spine of the book.

delighted that yeonjun remembered such a little thing, you nodded with spritely energy. “and they use e.b. garamond!”

looking at you geeking over the books, yeonjun laughed and promised to bring you there over the weekend. it excited you to no end. but you had to chastise yourself for being unabashedly thrilled to go to the bookstore with him. your heart swelled with unknown and unfamiliar feelings, categorizable only by whatever you had read in books. and yet, you told yourself that your life wasn’t a romance novel. this crush would go like all the ones you had before. it would result in a one-sided pining for someone who would never like you back. you told yourself not to get too ahead of yourself and to cut all this crush stuff out. yeonjun could never like you back.

but little did you know, yeonjun’s heart resounded with the same feelings for you.

---

next chapter

[justjessame]

A Reluctant Hero Chapter 21 (FINAL)

JD and I settled into our new life together with more ease than I think I’d ever cohabitated with anyone before.  Well, maybe Kelsey, but she lived in the guest apartment, so did that really count?  

I signed the papers that my lawyer had drawn up in preparation for taking Roger to court for revenge porn and cyber stalking, since he’d somehow managed to get into my email account to steal my contacts.  He also let me know that he heard from the college where Roger was a professor and they were also planning on taking action against him for his less than adult reaction to a breakup.  I guess poor Roger really didn’t quite understand how unpopular being a dickhead could be.

Kelsey and I visited, if not in person then virtually, almost every single day.  I preferred in person, if only to get to hold, feed, and even diaper little Gideon.  She kept asking, after she confirmed that I was actually marrying JD in the not too distant future, when she could expect a sibling.  And I was losing the ability to feign irritation at her constant poking.  

“Can we say ‘I do’ first?”  I asked, cradling my grandbaby to my chest, and yearning for my own.  “We’ve fast tracked so damn much, Kels, can’t we do SOMETHING more traditionally?”  

She had the nerve to laugh.  “I hate to tell you, Ani, but you and Dad and the word ‘traditional’ are pretty foreign concepts.”  I rolled my eyes.  “Just give me a sibling and Gideon a playmate, we’ll plan the wedding while you get down to business.”  

That had me laughing, which is how JD found us when he came in from stacking more wood for his daughter and grandson.  We’d packed his things into a moving truck before he noticed that the woodpile was getting low, so off he’d gone to play Paul Bunyon.  

“What did I miss?”  He was in the kitchen washing his hands so he could take Gideon in his arms, without wood dust and dirt mussing up our little guy.  “Hey, buddy, grandpa’s back.”  He looked up to see me watching him intently and his daughter still fighting hysterical laughter.  “Seriously what did I miss?”  

We were on the road, me feeling happy that we had the moving truck to keep him slow and easy on the drive back to our house, when he chuckled.  I looked over to see his dimple peeking at me.  “Down to business, huh?”  

I snorted.  “Practice makes perfect, right?”  I shook my head.  “Is she right?”  I don’t know why I asked, of course she wasn’t.  We should do the wedding, give me a chance to prepare myself to be a wife, then a mother, right?

He sighed, his laughter gone, but not his good mood.  “Guess it depends on what you want, Ani.”  Shit, leaving it up to me was no help.  “I love you, the marriage part is just a formality to me.”

“You’d be alright if we started really trying?  Now?”  I felt the truck swerve a touch and bit my lip.  “Not NOW now, JD,” I noticed that he had both hands on the steering wheel, and his fists were tight.  “But now, as in when we get-”

“Home?”  I swear I felt him hit the gas and started worrying that we’d be dead before we got there.  

We did.  We started actively practicing to make a baby, instead of, you know, roleplaying the practice.  Wait, that sounds wrong even to me.  I stopped the birth control.  We didn’t start counting days until I was most fertile, but we did make sure that we were very hands on in our new goal.  Hands, mouths, tongues, and other body parts on, actually.  

And as we tried, I planned.  While the marriage was a formality, I felt it was an important one.  I knew that we didn’t need a huge event, that both of us would be happy with a simple ceremony at home, with our family around us.  That’s what I planned.  A small, intimate wedding at home.  Dinner afterward, with happiness and to reaffirm what the people closest to us knew already.

As the day came closer, I have to admit, I didn’t pay attention to my menstrual cycle.  Why would I?  The birth control I’d been on had stunted my cycles, so I hadn’t had an actual period in years.  The first month after I had stopped, I decided the missing period was my body returning to normal with residual hormones keeping it at bay.  The second month I didn’t even notice, but the third month was when JD asked me about it.

“What?”  I’d been writing, after lunch and he was sitting nearby reading.  As always, I’d gotten distracted by my work so he had to ask again.  “My period?”  I had to think about it.  “I just stopped taking my-”

“Three months, Ani,” he offered, moving so he could kneel beside my chair.  “We’ve been trying for three months.”  Shit.  “I think we need-”  

He left to buy a pregnancy test and I sat in silence, shocked that I’d missed missing my cycle.  I could argue that I had a lot on my plate.  I was writing a new book.  I had gone to court to face down Roger, happy when at the last minute his attorney accepted a deal that would keep him firmly away from me and let the entire thing fade into the past.  I was planning a wedding, simple as it was, and it was coming up in a week.  Surely I could get a pass for fucking missing something so important.  Right? 

I read the box and took a deep breath.  “It says that morning is the best time to take it, since the hormone is strongest then?”  I looked up to see that he hadn’t bought just one, but three.  “Or I could take one now and then another in the morning, just to be sure.”  His smile told me that was his hope.  Shit.  

He waited in our bedroom as I did what one does when taking a pregnancy test.  I left the stick on the counter, and joined him.  He’d propped himself up against the headboard and looked completely at ease, but he had experience with this and I didn’t.  I paced, after telling Pandi to start the timer for three minutes.  JD watched as I wore a path in the floor, back and forth, back and forth.

“You do want this, right?”  I looked up to see how uncertain he looked and felt my heart clench.  He thought I didn’t-  

“Oh, fuck,” I moved to our bed and crawled up to straddle him.  “JD Richter, of course I want it, I just can’t get over how fucking stupid I was for not noticing that I’d missed it.”  Cupping his face between my hands, I leaned forward so our foreheads touched.  “I get distracted so damn much, but this is fucking important.”  He laughed, moving his face so he could kiss my lips.  

“As long as we’re together, we’ll figure it out,” I shook my head as Pandi told me time was up.  “Let’s go see if we’re going to start thinking up names.”  

Standing in front of the fireplace that I accidentally threw his shirt in, looking far more pulled together than most people would think JD Richter could look, I stepped closer and took his hands in mine.  The minister said the same words that had been said so many times for some many years and our family watched as we were finally married.  

We had a week to process the test results.  To decide what came next.  To decide where to go from there.  And here we stood.  A band on his finger that matched the one he placed on mine.  Gideon made baby gurgling noises behind us, as we shared our first kiss as husband and wife.  

Dad, Dorothy, Kelsey, Gideon, the minister, Molly Wood and her son Ethan, all joined us at our dining room table.  A table that JD had sanded and stained new himself. That was holding a cake, and a dinner that I’d managed to create before we said our ‘I dos’.  I had been startled, when a few days before, Molly had contacted JD.  I was more surprised when he asked her to join us for our wedding, but after meeting her and hearing my dad and her talk together, I knew that any worry I might harbor was unnecessary.  She was happy in her new role, with her son, and she wanted to offer her own happiness for our commitment.

Dad insisted on toasting us.  Which led to Kelsey’s, then Dorothy’s, and even Molly said a few words.  JD’s eyes met mine, he lifted my hand to his lips and after I nodded, he gave my knuckles a small kiss and stood up.  

“Ani and I want to thank you for sharing our day with us.”  I smiled as Dad’s hand touched mine from my other side.  “When I met Anilea, even under the less than optimal circumstances,” I bit my lip to keep from giggling at how ‘less than’ that first meeting was.  “I knew she was it for me.”  My eyes burned at his certainty.  “While we celebrate Ani now sharing the same last name as most of the people seated at this table, we wanted to share something else to celebrate-”

Kelsey’s eyes widened, and her grin grew.  “I knew it,” she said, stopping JD in his tracks.  “I freaking knew it.”  I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, Kelsey,you get your wish,” JD was trying not to laugh.  “If you have a preference for brother or sister, I think you have to take it up with-”  His words were drowned out by the shouts from Dad and Dorothy, happy shouts, but shouts nonetheless.  

In one day, I went from Anilea Ampstead, to Anilea Richter wife and expectant mother.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if I had to catch an asshole humping a teenager on my dining room table to meet the man of my dreams while completely shitfaced.  At least it will make one hell of a bedtime story to tell our little one, right

[rational-mastermind]

King’s Cafe Ch 1

HELL YES we’re starting this year off with a shit ton of writing!!

Now fair warning to the five others in this fandom and what few read my writing for the sheer sake of it: I’m not intending on making this a serious fanfic. Trilby won’t save the day or have any sort of epic quest to save the coffee shop. Just...more like glorified head canons than anything. How they meet. What others do with their modern-day life. A few consistencies, but nothing major. No over arcing plots. Hell no real plot at all. Just slice-of-life shit. That being said, enjoy.

--

Chapter 1 - Introductions

 On the corner, at the intersection between Bronwyn road and Kings street, sat a small cafe which was aptly named King’s Cafe. It was small and quaint and obviously trying its best. Nothing too fancy or special. A modest little coffee shop that got by on the average. It had its share of regulars and made decent enough sales to keep the employees paid.

 And one employee in particular, Siobhan O’Malley, was running late.

 She hurried into the store and closed the door behind her. She sighed disappointed and frustrated, knowing she’s likely to hear about her tardiness from the manager, Cabadath. But now wasn’t a time for self-pity. Now was a time for work. She came over to the door to the worker’s back room, grabbed her apron, punched in, heard the snide remark from Cabadath about being a few minutes late, and came out, ready to start her day.

 First she headed to the back to check on their resident baker, John DeFoe.

 John was an unusual lad. He was tall, pale as a ghost, and lanky, practically skin and bones. He had a gaunt face and hollowed eyes, but he wasn’t really as spooky as he appeared. He was actually very timid and sweet, but a hard worker as well.

 He always arrived first, bright and early, to get started on the cakes and doughnuts and pastries. It would’ve been a surprise that the cafe’s management even allowed him to have so much free reign, but it was no secret that his baking was what really brought in customers. Between his sweet treats and the way his twin brother, Matthew, would ice and decorate and customize each and every cookie, it was a wonder you could call it a cafe at all and not just a bakery.

 Siobhan peeked into the kitchen to check on him, the sweet warm smell of spices, yeast, and fresh brewed coffee already wafting about the air.

 “Morning!” she greeted cheerfully.

 John was in the middle of stirring up dough and looking at a recipe on the company’s laptop. He jumped, slightly startled, before his gaze became expressionless once more, as it normally was, and he fixed it on her. He gave a curt nod.

John was a mute. He could hear, and he often used sign-language as a means to communicate, though it was really only something Matthew understood. In all truth, it always made Siobhan uneasy and constantly in the dark of the lad’s real thoughts or intentions. She hoped the nod was meant well and she gave a thumbs-up in return, feeling momentarily stupid for doing so.

 “Morning, Ms. Siobhan!” Matthew’s sweet and excited voice rang out as he came in, from the pantry behind the kitchen, carrying a large tray full of different colored icing.

 Siobhan immediately started to lighten up and feel better. Matthew’s sunny disposition and youthful energy easily filled any room. A complimentary yang to John’s yin.

 “Hey Matt.” Siobhan smiled back. “How we looking today?”

 “Doing great! Same as always!” Matt replied easily.

 “Awesome.”

 Siobhan came back out to the main room and looked up at the chalkboard. She noticed Cabadath had already scribbled in specials for the day and the cake display was already polished and gleaming. She got started on brewing a few of the coffees, and, when ready, made herself a Caretaker. A personal favorite of the unusually named coffees they served.

 Siobhan then went about the cafe, setting chairs to tables, setting out the old magazines no one looks at, and setting pillows up on the couches, where they belonged.

 “S’cuse me, Siobhan.”

 She turned and saw Theo standing behind her with a broom and dustpan. An expectant and rather bored look on his face.

 “Oh! Yeah, sorry.” she stepped out of the way and Dacabe began sweeping under the couch. “When’d you come in?”

 “Same time as you. I came in right behind you.”

 “Oh..” Siobhan gave a weak grin. “Ah.. Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

 “No one ever does.”

 She rolled her eyes and walked away. Theo was always a bit of a crybaby. He was the janitor though, so not only was it easy to overlook him, it wasn’t exactly like he had the hardest job. Not in Siobhan’s opinion at least.

 Siobhan came to the front and pulled away the blinds and turned around the open sign. She came back to the counter.

 ‘5….

 ‘4….

 ‘3….

 ‘2….

 ‘1….’

 “Morning!” Claire’s voice rang out, out of breath but still perky. She hurried to the door to the back office and soon reappeared, dressed for work. “Hey! Sorry! Sorry I’m late!”

 “You’re right on time, Claire.” Siobhan grinned.

 Claire hurried around the counter, said good morning to the boys, and came back to the counter and began helping set things up for the morning.

 “So, how’s it going?” Claire asked.

 “Same old, same old.” Siobhan sighed with a patient smile.

 Claire worked the counters with Siobhan. She was a sweet, short, bespectacled woman. The type who loved to collect cat figurines and make movie references. She was bubbly and kind and claims to be psychic. Some believe her, some don’t. It didn’t really matter to Siobhan either way. Working with Claire was always a delight.

 They got the store ready and opened. After helping a few early morning patrons, Siobhan looked up at the clock. 9:30.

 She heard the door jingle and looked over in time to see Dr. Somerset walk in.

 “Morning, Somerset!” she called out with a smile.

 “Morning.” he greeted with a small nod.

 “You ordering anything this time?”

 “Maybe in a bit.” he walked over to the same corner he always sat at, in the arm chair underneath the space poster, and pulled out his laptop from his bag.

 Siobhan rolled her eyes. Somerset was nice enough, but being a psychologist, trying to get into the field, he was almost always jobless. As such, he hardly ever actually ordered coffee. Instead he sat on his laptop, scrolling through the internet, busy with job hunting.

 Not 3 minutes later did the door jingle for another regular.

 “Siobhan!” Prof. Abed Chahal called out, as soon as he came in. He was a good man, a history professor for the nearby university. He always came in on the weekend, carrying a suitcase.

 Siobhan waved, smiling.

 “Morning, Abed! What’ll it be?”

 “Ah.. I’m feeling adventurous today.” Abed thought for a moment, looking at the menu. “I think I’ll have a Guide.”

 “Got it. Anything else?”

 “Do the boys have any pastries ready?” he glanced over at the glass display of cakes and tarts.

 “They’ve already been baking. Whatcha need?”

 “Mmm.. What would you recommend?”

 “Hm. I think I saw Johnny put in a sheet of cookies!”

 “Well that sounds perfect. I’ll have one of those when they’re finished.”

 “Alright then.” Siobhan jotted down the order and rang him up.

 Abed walked over to a booth to wait. He sat down his suitcase, opened it up, and began setting up the chess board he always brought with him. Siobhan chuckled and watched him set up all the pieces.

 “Who are you gonna play today?” she asked.

 “Not sure, yet. But I’m sure I’ll find someone. Perhaps Johnny will entertain me on his break.”

 “Hm. Maybe.” though Siobhan was sure he wouldn’t.

 Johnny almost always liked to keep to himself and stay in the back. Abed was likely confusing him for Matthew.

 Time went by, she made the coffee, got the cookie, came out to the counter.

 “Abed, you’re coffee’s ready!” she immediately turned to find Chris Quinn, just as he was about to attempt shouting and scaring her. “Morning Chris.”

 “Aw- what?!” Chris’ face fell in disappointment. “Bullshit, how’d you know I was here?”

 “Because you do it almost every morning.” Siobhan chuckled. “And I heard Claire take your order.”

 “She’s a sharp one, Chris.” Abed was chuckling as he took his coffee.

 Chris blew a raspberry and proceeded to act like he was deflating and drape himself over the counter.

 “You’re no fun, Siobhan.”

 “And you’re still a child.” she chuckled.

 “Here’s your coffee, Chris!”, Claire nudged past Siobhan and handed him a cup. “One Arrogant Joe.”

 “Hell yes. Thank you!” he grinned and quickly bounced over to the couch beside Somerset and sat down to bug him instead.

 Chris Quinn was an odd one. A man who supposedly wrote for a living. He was childish, excited, exuberant, and eccentric. He would’ve looked like a psychopathic horror, with the dark bags under his wide eyes and the long black trench coat that had red splatter paint on it.

He was a type of person Claire would describe as “bright”, but not in the traditional sense of being intelligent. “Bright” as in the way a 1000 watt lightbulb would be bright. He was friendly with everyone, had a horrible caffeine and  sugar addiction, and was only ever kicked out once when he made everyone uncomfortable after downing 5 lattes on a dare and began talking about talking dog heads and zombies. He was mostly harmless, but has warned most of his slight schizophrenic tendencies.

 After a while, the doorbell rang once more and the last regular of this cafe’s dysfunctional family arrived; Jim Fowler.

 Jim was less common compared to others, being generally busy with school himself, but often stopped by on the weekends. He was a good, sensible lad who was on good terms with the DeFoe Twins, despite being a year younger. They go to the same school and on weekends, like today, Jim sometimes hangs around the shop and studies.

 “Morning, Jim. What’ll it be?”

 “Morning, Ms. O’Malley. Um..” Jim looked over the menu, thinking a moment before finally snapping his fingers with an answer. “Y’know? I think I’ll have the Bridgekeeper.”

 “Got it.”

 “Any of John’s cakes?”

 “Plenty!” Matt came around, setting up another baked good for the display. “Whatcha need?”

 “What was that one..? You guys were talking about it the other day. With the caramel?”

 “Ooh! Yeah, the Salty Bears! We just finished those!”

 Matt quickly disappeared into the back to retrieve his dish. Siobhan chuckled and rang him up.

 “Jimmy! Why don’t you sit down and play a round with me?” Abed asked, looking up from his board.

 “Wish I could, Abed, but I got studies!” Jim gave an apologetic grin.

 “Nonsense! It’s just one round!”

 “Mm. He should really study.” Claire chimed in, closing her eyes. “Big test coming up.” 

 “You’re telling me..” Jim rolled his eyes. “My dad’s gonna be all over me if I don’t pass.”

 He hurried to another table and sat down, sitting his backpack beside him and started pulling out his textbooks.

 “Welp, everyone’s here today.” Siobhan said to Claire.

 “Yup. Another day in the King’s Cafe.” Claire sighed contently.

 Jim soon got his coffee and pastry, and then it was just another, slow, typical day in the cafe.

 Abed managed to convince Matthew to play with him on his next break.

 A few randos came in and went out.

 Simone Taylor droned on in the background on a small TV mounted to the wall in the back.

 Chris decided he was done bugging Somerset and struck up a conversation with Siobhan while waiting for his next cup.

 “So, can I ask a serious question, Siobhan?” Chris was asking.

 “But you’re never serious.” Siobhan chuckled, pouring the milk into his latte, practicing her foam art.

 “No, come on. Really.”

 “Okay, fine, what?”

 “When are we gonna stop playing these silly games with each other?” he grinned suggestively.

 Siobhan laughed. It wasn’t the first time Chris was a flirt, let alone flirted with her. But as opposed to most guys, Siobhan didn’t think it wise to have even a casual fling with a man like Chris. She shook her head.

 “Chris, I still don’t know what game you’re talking about? But if you’re looking for a date Friday, the answer is still no.”

 “Aw, come on!”

 The door jingled and rang. Siobhan handed him his coffee.

 “Just take your drink, would...ya…” Siobhan’s thought slowed as she took in the recent customer.

 He was tall.

 He was handsome.

 He was well dressed.

 He was soaked to the bone.

 His long black hair clung damply to his pale face.

 He took off a small gray hat, a complementary part to the three piece grey pinstripe suit he wore, and shook the excess water off.

 He looked up and smiled at Siobhan, politely.

 “Good afternoon.” he said in a soft, posh, baritone voice.

 “Um..” Siobhan quickly shook her head and smiled readily. “Welcome to the King’s Cafe, sir. What can I get you?”

 “Well let’s see um…” the man frowned, reading the menu. “I’m...afraid I don’t quite understand what some of your options are.”

 “Oh! Right! Uh, the King’s Cafe has a few specials, and ergo a fun and special lingo for the customers.” Siobhan chuckled. “It’s a little silly really, but I’ll do my best to explain anything that catches your attention.”

 “Well.. What’s the Guide?”

 “The Guide is basically a Mead Raf.” Siobhan explained. “Espresso with a shot of honey and topped with heavy cream. Bitter, strong, but a hint of something sweet.”

 “Actually that already sounds lovely. I think I’ll try that.”

 “Coming right up, sir. Do you like cakes?”

 “Not often...” he said, looking at his watch, frowning thoughtfully. “...Perhaps another time.”

 “Alright then. I’ll get that coffee ready.”

 She rung him up and he paid, but was so distracted he left to a table and sat down immediately. He was carrying a leather messenger bag and quickly sat up in a corner booth, pulling out several notebooks and a laptop. He immediately got to work on whatever and it took Siobhan an embarrassing amount of time to realize she hadn’t asked his name.

 “Uh, sir? Sir?” but it was too late.

 The man was already too engrossed in whatever it was he was doing to hear her. Siobhan simply sighed and looked at the cup. She shrugged and drew a trilby on it. And that was when she realized the newcomer had caught everyone’s attention. Even Somerset and the DeFoe twins were all looking over, trying to get a look at the strange man.

 “...Alright, come on you guys, there’s nothing to see. He’s just another customer.” Siobhan rolled her eyes and got to work.

 “He is kinda cute though.” Claire grinned, leaning over the counter to look better.

 “Claire.” Siobhan said disapprovingly.

 “Hell maybe he’ll wanna go out this Friday.” Chris grinned.

 “Chris, you’re not even gay.” Siobhan looked at him, confused.

 “So?” Chris immediately went over to introduce himself.

 Siobhan internally cringed. She hated when Chris did this with other customers. The one time it was funny because a guy named Philip clocked him in the face, but aside from that, it was usually just embarrassing and frustrating.

 “Hey!” Chris greeted, taking a seat opposite of the man. “So what’s your name?”

 The man didn’t skip a beat, and continued to type away on his keyboard, slowing only to reach over with one hand and hold up a notebook he was looking at. One hand still typing away while he read.

 Chris sat there for a moment before leaning over a little closer, looking over the notebook.

 “Whatcha working on there?” he reached to move the notebook down a little.

 “Your demise if you so much as touch this notebook.” was the sharp and quiet answer.

 Chris immediately retreated. The man continued on, unphased.

 “I’ve no time for idle chit-chat, thank you.” the man said politely. “I’ve a very important deadline.”

 “Then maybe another time? ‘Nother place?”

 “Here and now is plenty for me to worry about. I’ve no interest in any further plans.”

 Siobhan chuckled at how utterly rejected Chris looked. Eventually she finished the order and looked over at him. She wasn’t sure at first how to address him, but figured if she had to, she’ll go over and tap him on the shoulder.

 “Um.. Sir? W-with the trilby?” she leaned over the counter a little.

 At that, as if by magic, the man’s head popped up from his work

 “Hm? Me? Oh, yes.”

 He came over and grabbed the coffee.

 “Thank you very much, miss.” he smiled politely.

 “Wait, what’s your-?” He already turned and retreated back to his corner.

 “Maybe his name’s Trilby?” Claire suggested.

 “What kind of name is that?” Siobhan scoffed.

 “Hm, judging by his laptop and notebooks, it could be a pseudonym.” Somerset commented thoughtfully. “Likely an author or writer of some sort.”

 “You think he’s here to stay?” Chris asked.

 “Whatcha mean?” Claire asked.

 “Well I mean.. Look at us.” Siobhan shrugged. “Normally we’re all here at some point or another. Sometimes with Philip or Janine.”

 “Oh.. So you think maybe he’s gonna…” Claire looked back and Chris helpfully finished the sentence.

 “Stick around.”

 Everyone was looking at him curiously now, lost in their own thoughts and assumptions.

 Siobhan watched him for a while, serious and busy hammering away at his laptop. He occasionally paused only to look over his notes once more or to sigh, rub his chin, and soon enough get back to typing. Perfectly content and oblivious to the world around him. She smiled.

 “...Maybe he will.”

[puckinghell]

A Million Different Ways | William Nylander

Summary: Saying the L-word is scary, but luckily, there are a million different ways to say I love you.  Words: 1737 Note: I’m writing to deal with my emotional distress over this playoff loss. 

There were a million different ways to say I love you, and Will was pretty sure he’d gone through them all.

Well, all but one; he hadn’t actually said the words “I love you” out loud. But he had a good reason for that. You were his best friend, and you weren’t interested in him.

But nothing was stopping him from saying I love you in every other way. Sometimes he even thought you were telling him the same thing. But surely that was just in his mind. He didn’t care, though. He would continue to tell you, until you inevitably got with some other guy, who could tell you those three little words. That was a day Will didn’t think he would ever be ready for.

1.

It had been a hard week and on Friday night, you wanted nothing more than to have a movie night with your best friend. You had these nights every Friday night Will wasn’t playing, and when he was, you’d move it to Thursday or Saturday night. You rarely missed a movie night, and you weren’t about to this time.

But boy, you were tired. School had been busy and work had been tough, and when you walked into Will’s apartment, you were too exhausted to even properly greet him, instead flopping down on his couch and instantly pulling a blanket over yourself.

“Good evening, Y/N. I’m great, thanks for asking, Y/N,” Kappy said sarcastically. He shot Will a look. “You’re gonna need the TV, aren’t you?” With a dramatic sigh, he unplugged his controller before Will had even answered.

“I would invite you to stay and watch the movie with us, but I’ve seen enough of your ugly mug for one day,” Will told him instead, then turned to you. “You look tired. Did you get enough sleep last night?”

You would’ve answered him, had it not been for the yawn that escaped your lips, and he simply giggled. “Clearly not. Are you hungry?” His eyes lit up. “We bought chocolate cake earlier today and I saved you the last piece.”

The thought of chocolate had your mouth watering. “If you bring me the cake I won’t question you about your choice to buy chocolate cake in the middle of the season,” you promised him.

Will sat down next to you on the couch, swinging his arm over the back of it.

“Well, then,” he said. “Why don’t you pick the movie?”

2.

“Why are you always late?” you whined when Will finally got into the car. He shot you a look, then pointed to his hair.

“It takes time to look this good,” he joked. You knew he was joking not only cause his laughter-filled voice, but also because his hair currently looked like a bird had tried to nest in it. Usually Will took some time to do his hair after practice, but this time, he’d clearly forgone it, instead opting to be with you as soon as possible.

You might’ve told him that if you missed even the beginning credits of the movie, you’d kill him. You’d wanted to see this movie since it was announced and when it turned out it would only just work out for Will to join you after practice, you’d offered to pick him up and drive straight to the cinema. 

He was wearing sweats and clearly hadn’t brushed his hair after the shower, but he still looked good. It was unfair, really. If you didn’t brush your hair, you looked homeless.

“You’re annoying,” you told him, putting the car into motion, and Will grinned at you.

“Get used to it. I plan on annoying you for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the car ride went as usual, when you two got together. Will yapped on and on about practice, you made fun of him a little, he teased you back, then quickly made sure you knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way. Suddenly, in the middle of one of his sentences, Will’s head shot up and his mouth shut.

“What?” you asked worriedly, trying to catch his eye while also paying attention to the road.

“The song!” he yelled out. “In practice they were playing a song, and it reminded me of you. It was a Carole King song.”

“You were listening to Carole King in practice?” you frowned, but he didn’t even seem to hear you.

Instead, he was manically scrolling through his phone, hooking it up to your car radio, and then, familiar tones filled your car.

As soon as you recognized it, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve Got A Friend.”

He shot you a smug smile. “Cause I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“Now that is a true friend.” Then you turned up the radio and you two sang along at the top of your lungs.

You couldn’t even really remember what movie you were going to see.

3.  

Will texting you was not an unusual thing, but Will texting you on 2am on a Tuesday was a bit odd. However, in these circumstances, you should’ve expected it.

You could’ve texted back but it was late and dark in your room and you were still half asleep, so instead, you called him.

“Will?” you mumbled. “Why did you text?”

“Oh.” His voice sounded muffled, and a bit scratchy. He didn’t sound sleepy, but he sounded tired. No, more than that. Exhausted. “Sorry, I didn’t think about the time.” He paused. “It’s just that you’re the one I text when I need to smile.”

Your heart broke at his words. “Oh, Willy, I know it sucks, but there’ll be another playoff series…”

“Not like this.” The words came out too forceful, too fast. You could tell they were ringing in his ears, had been ringing in his ears ever since that final buzzer went off in Boston. “This was all my fault. I should’ve performed better. They were counting on me.”

You’d known that’s what he was thinking. And you knew it hadn’t been his best series, but considering the circumstances, you thought he’d done fine. He’d missed half the season, played a position he didn’t usually play, played with linemates he’d never played with, played third line minutes… and his stats were still fine.

But that’s not what he saw. All he saw was a loss. Again.

“They were counting on all you guys,” you told him softly. “And that’s what happens in hockey, sometimes. They were counting on Tampa and Calgary too. But you know what? You did great, and no matter what, I’m proud of you.” You were quiet for a bit, but there was no response from Will. “How can I help, Willy?”

It was silent on the other end. Then, softly, his voice small: “Can you just take my mind off it? Talk to me about something else. Literally anything else.”

And so that’s what you did. You talked about your annoying professor and your friend, who got back together with her no-good ex-boyfriend. You talked about the weather and your plans for the weekend, which included going on a run, something you hated doing but forced yourself to do anyway. You talked about the latest news on the Kardashians. Anything to make him stop thinking. Anything to make him feel better.

Finally, around 3, Will’s voice came through the phone again. “Thank you for calling me this late.”

You smiled. “I’ll always be there for you, Will. You know that. That’s what best friends are for. ”

4.

Before you’d known Will, summer had been your favorite season. Now, it just meant you wouldn’t see your best friend for two months, and as you stood in the airport hall, surrounded by people, you already couldn’t help but feel incredibly alone.

And he wasn’t even gone yet.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said, his eyes soft. It was hard on him, too, but at least he was going home to see his family.

“Not as much as me,” you told him, and when he shot you a look, you stubbornly crossed your arms. “You know damn well I go nuts without you in my life.”

“I’ll still be in your life, miss drama queen,” he giggled. “Just over the phone, for a little bit.” The smile faded. “You know you can always call me, right?”

You nodded. You knew he’d always be there, always just a phone call away, but it wasn’t the same, and he knew that too.

“Well, goodbye, then, I guess.” You didn’t wanna drag it on any longer, knew it would hurt no matter how long you stood in a crowded airport hall staring at him, trying to memorize the color blue of his eyes or the crinkles around them when he smiled. Every year, you tried to memorize his face, his voice, his smell… but every year, you could feel that memory drift away from you during summer.

“It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.” Will opened his arms. “Hug me.”

He didn’t need to ask you twice; you jumped forward, throwing yourself into his arms and burying your face in his neck. His skin was warm against yours and you had to swallow away a lump from your throat.

Finally, it was time to let go, and when Will stepped back, there was a strange look on his face.

“I…” But he cut himself off, cut himself off before he could say the full three words.

Maybe one day. But not now.

“Text me when you get home,” he said instead.

“You’ll be in the air, what could you possibly do about anything?” You tried to tease him, but your voice didn’t quite reach the right tone.

He shrugged. “I just wanna know you’re safe.”

Your heart leaped and you forced it down, bit the inside of your cheek. “Okay,” you told him. “I will.”

He reached out, squeezed your hand. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Will.” With those words, you watched him as he walked through the gate. Then turned around and left for your car.

You didn’t see him turn around before he reached security. You didn’t see the movement of his lips, three little words whispered in the air, never to be heard by anyone but himself.

There were a million different ways to say I love you, and now, Will had truly gone through them all.

[squirrelly831]

Sleep Confessions [Jaehyung, Sungjin, and Brian]

This got a lot longer than I thought it would. 

Enjoy~~

Jaehyung

Samantha met Day6 through Brian after having him on her radio show. She became instant friends with him and Jaehyung due to them speaking English. It was the closest thing she had to home and it was easier than Korean, so when she was just with them she freely spoke English.

After a year and a half, Samantha, Jaehyung, and Brian were tied to the hip. The trio did almost everything together, but Samantha had a secret that only Brian knew. She had fallen for Jaehyung hard. What she didn’t know was Brian was holding on to another secret. Jaehyung felt the same. He tried all he could to get one of them to have the courage to tell the other, but the two stubbornly ignored him and he ultimately decided to stay out of it.

Samantha’s heart raced every second she saw Jaehyung and her breath caught in her throat every time he smiled at her or made a joke. She felt like a stupid school girl with how much she had fallen for him. She was just weak for the loud meme boy and it was hard to be so tight-lipped about her secret love.

However tight-lipped she planned to be, her sleep self had a different idea. She was always made fun for talking in her sleep by her family and friends, so she typically tried not to fall asleep around others. Except, Samantha had pull a 24 hour work day the day before Jaehyung and her were supposed to hang out.

When she walked into his apartment, it was apparent how exhausted she was and he insisted she slept on the couch for a bit. She protested weakly, but he ignored her as he pulled her to the couch. Jaehyung sat down and pulled her down and laid her head on his legs.

“Don’t try anything funny or else” Samantha threat had no real warning as she let out a yawn before she fell asleep.

Jaehyung grinned. He hadn’t planned on doing anything until she said that. “Sammy” She let out a little hum in response. His grin only widened, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow…” she mumbled. He bit back a laugh. He always like making conversation with her when she was asleep. She never remembered what they talked about and it was always fun to make fun of her for it.

Jaehyung went through a list of simple questions as he combed his fingers through her hair. He thought for a moment. There was one question he desperately wanted to know, but he hesitated. He cleared his throat, “Who do you like?” He asked. He felt his heart quicken as he waited for her reply. Samantha made a whining sound as she shuffled and turned to face away from Jaehyung. “Sammy, who do you like?” He repeated softer.

“Jaehyung…” she mumbled.

Jaehyung froze as he processed her answer. A smile grew on his face as her word sank in. He was so happy, a smile wasn’t enough. He let out a loud laugh and Samantha jumped up startled.

She cursed and ran her hands sleepily through her hair, “What’s your deal?” She asked. Her eyes squinted as she looked back at him.

Jaehyung continued to laugh as he looked at her and he reached for her. He pulled her against his chest as his laugh slowly died. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and took in her scent. Samantha blushed feeling his breath on her neck and she tried to move, but his arms kept her in place. “Don’t move just yet.” He whispered.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry” he chuckled. “I was just playing around and asking you questions while you slept…. It’s true, right? You really like me?” He looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

Samantha pulled away. Her hand pressed over her nose as she looked away. She could feel her cheeks burn, “If I said it, it must be.”

Jaehyung grinned as he grabbed her again and hugged her, “I like you too!” He confessed as he let out a laugh. He wanted to pinch himself. He couldn’t believe Brian was right for once.

Sungjin

Sungjin and his best friend and long time crush, Zoey, were on their way to the beach. It was a celebratory day for Zoey. It was the day after her college graduation. Sungjin wanted to do something special for her and he decided to take her out to the beach for a week getaway in Busan. He wanted to show her just how proud he was of her for how much she achieved.

Sungjin was there through it all. The bad grades, the stress, all the final and midterms exams that made her lose sleep and an appetite, and even the heartbreaks he wish she never had to go through. He knew she needed this.

Zoey let out a yawn drawing Sungjin’s eyes from the road for a moment. She put down her pencil and look up from her journal. “How much further?” She asked as she took off her glasses to clean them.

“About an hour and a half. You look tired, sleep. I’ll let you know when we get to the hotel.”

Zoey shifted in her seat and leaned her chair back. “I don’t want to. I feel like I have talked to you in forever.”

Sungjin’s lips twitched as he tried not to break into a smile, “We talked for a while earlier.”

Zoey held out her hand and Sungjin switched his hand on the steering wheel so he could take hers. Zoey smiled and intertwined their fingers. Her heart quickened. It was an action she was so used to doing with him, but she knew now was different. She realized her crush on him in the last couple of months. She felt ridiculous when she realized why all her exes never worked out. It was a self discovery that left her conflicted. Sungjin’s thumb rubbed the back of her hand and she couldn’t help smiling more. Zoey thought this trip would be a great way to confess to him. What she didn’t know was he had planned to do the same.

She let out another yawn and Sungjin shook his head with a small smile. He took his hand from hers and changed the radio station that had turned to static. “I put a blanket in the back seat, you should get some sleep.” They felt a loss of warmth when their hands separated.

“I’m not that tired” Zoey mumbled as she reached back for the blanket. She threw it over her body and she went back to writing in her journal. She had written about her feelings for Sungjin and as she wrote her eyes drifted shut. Her hands holding her journal and pencil fell slack and she was a sleep within minutes.

While Sungjin drove, he took a quick glance to see Zoey out like a light. His chest vibrated as he let out a quiet chuckle, “And who said they weren’t sleepy?” He reached over and pulled off her glasses and placed them on the tray in the dashboard. Sungjin heard mumbles from Zoey and he turned down the music slightly. “Say something?” He asked figuring she was probably still just half asleep.

“I… like you…, Sungjin” she mumbled in her sleep.

Sungjin looked forwards again as he drove and a small smile slowly grew on his face. He was happy he got Zoey to go on this trip alone with him, it would be a great opportunity for him to take her out on a date and ask her out. Hearing her sleep confession made him more confident in telling her how he felt about her. He glanced at Zoey once more before he focused on the road. He wished he could get to the hotel faster.

Brian/Young K

Brian was at the point he wanted to just throw everything off the desk and scream. The level of frustration was at an all time high. He struggled with his song writing. He had the apartment to himself, which he thought was a perfect time to write, but nothing came to him. His hand itched to send a text to Dowoon’s younger sister, Hana. She was like his muse, but he knew she was busy. She was a full time college student and a part time worker at a cafe near her campus.

He decided to just take a break just as the doorbell sounded. He got up and walked to the camera. His heart stopped when he saw Hana. Her hair was thrown in a messy bun and she wore her large circular glasses that she said made her feel like Harry Potter. She rang the bell once more before Brian pulled himself away from watching her and he buzzed her in.

Hana skipped inside and kicked off her shoes. She took her brother’s slippers and headed inside, “Hello?”

Brian leaned against the entrance leading to the living room, “Hey, what are you doing here?” He asked.

She gave him a large smile, “I got off work early. I brought some cake” she held up her cake box. “Thought everyone wanted some, but Dowoon wasn’t answering his phone.”

“He’s still out. Everyone is. I’m the only one here” he lead her inside. Hana blushed when Brian wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Perfect timing actually” he sighed.

“Oh yea?” She let out a soft giggle. “Why’s that?”

“I’m stuck writing, so maybe you can help me.”

“Me?” Her head turned to the side, “I can’t write lyrics. You know this. Why do you always ask me?”

Brian placed the cake box on the dining room table amd grabbed two plates. “You don’t have to do anything. Just hang out with me.” He shrugged as he returned to her side.

He held out a plate and she shook her head, “I just ate dinner before I got here.”

He grabbed a slice of cake and led Hana to where he had all his lyrics and paper on the computer desk. She threw herself on the sofa by the desk and let out a loud sigh. “It was such a long day! I thought I’d never end. Work and school. My professors assigned all this work too. Like hello, you aren’t our only professor can you not assign so much.” She complained.

Brian sat back at the desk and listened to Hana complain. He nodded along to her complaints as he wrote. He didn’t realize how much time had passed and how quite it had gotten. He looked up from the lyrics he wrote and gazed at Hana. She was passed out on the couch. He got up and grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over her. As he sat back he pulled up his laptop when he heard a sound from Hana. He checked on her and noticed her lips move, “What’s up?” He asked as he thought he woke her up from her sleep.

She turned and mumbled, “Lea me alon, Do. I won tell Brian I like ‘em…” she buried her head in her arm as she fell back into a quite sleep.

Brian sat there stunned as he thought of her words. He then smiled as he straightened up in his desk. He felt a renewed inspiration after hearing her sleep confession. He would talk to Dowoon before he asked Hana out, but after hearing Hana, he was sure Dowoon wouldn’t mind at all.

Part II

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ DAY6 MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[themurphyzone]

Absolutely Disastrous Ch 5

AN: Eileen and Marcus Underwood are underused. We need more Underwood family!

Ch 5: We’ll Call it a Day! Everybody Rest Up!

Once they’d taken the path back to Littleroot, it was only a five-minute walk to Zack’s house. There wasn’t much to the residential area of town. All the houses were painted in simple, earthy shades that blended perfectly with the forest.

“Lee’s got the beanie. Lance does not,” Zack repeated for the fifteenth time. “Don’t mix them up unless you want to find whoopee cushions in your beds.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry so much. Milo and I have plenty of practice differentiating between Absol. Twins are a piece of cake.”

Milo stood out of range so the door didn’t splinter into pieces while Zack turned the doorknob. He kept a lasso at the ready in case a stampede of wild Pokémon tried to carry anyone off.

Zack frowned, jiggling the doorknob a few times. “Weird. We don’t lock it during the day unless nobody’s home.”

Giggles erupted from inside the house.

“Who is it?” a child’s voice called.

“It’s me, Zack!” Zack sighed irritably. “Open the door!”

“Sorry, that’s not the password! Please try again at the sound of the beep!”

“Lee, I have something important to tell Mom and I’ve had a long day already. I’m not in the mood for pranks.”

“It was Lance’s idea!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Lee! Lance! I want to see those hands squeaky clean before dinner!” a woman scolded. “And don’t lock your brother out of the house!”

“Yes, Mom,” Lee and Lance chorused. They continued to bicker as their voices faded away.

The door swung open, revealing a woman in comfortable house clothes. Zack looked a lot like her. Her eyes flicked over to Melissa and Milo.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two before,” she said kindly. “Not from around here?”

“I’m Milo and this is Melissa!” Milo exclaimed. Diogee huffed at being left out. “And my partner, Diogee. Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about you!”

Diogee snorted.

“We’re from the Mt. Chimney area. And we all just became Pokémon Trainers!” Milo continued.  

The woman blinked in surprise. She studied Zack for a long time, who shrank back from the sudden scrutiny. Then she smiled. “Zack, I know you have better manners than this! Milo, Melissa, come inside for dinner. I want to hear how you two managed to convince my boy to become a Pokémon Trainer in the span of one afternoon. Oh, and you can just call me Eileen. Dr. Underwood is a mouthful for house guests.”

Eileen’s tone left no room for argument.

“Marcus called when you left the lab, but all he said over the phone was ‘Zack’s a Pokémon Trainer now’ before hanging up,” Eileen remarked as she set two extra places at the table for Milo and Melissa. “I love him, but that man always forgets to explain the important details. When he got his first Pokémon, he left home without telling his parents goodbye and they filed a missing person report for him! Sometimes he’s just the epitome of absent-minded professor.”

“We had to rescue Dad from a swarm of Magikarp. Some pirate guy was dumping them into the lake and disturbing the ecosystem,” Zack explained. “Milo and Melissa did most of the work on that.”

“You’re the one whose friends with a wild Gyarados,” Melissa said, gently punching Zack on the shoulder. “Stop selling yourself short.”

“Is it true?” Lee demanded, rushing out of the bathroom. His hands were still dripping wet. “Are you a-whoa!” He stared up at Diogee, mouth open in shock. He turned around, cupping his hands to his mouth. “LANCE! GET OUT HERE! THERE’S A COOL POKÉMON IN THE DINING ROOM!”

Diogee growled slightly as Lee tried to touch his fur with still-wet hands.

“Lee, go dry your hands and don’t let me catch you touching someone else’s Pokémon without permission again,” Eileen warned.

“But, Mom-“

“Argue and you won’t have cherry pie for dessert.”

Lee scampered off immediately.

“Mom, can you look over our Pokémon after dinner? We want them checked before we start training,” Zack asked, scooping up a handful of silverware from a drawer and setting them next to every plate. “Oh, and they need a place to stay the night.”

“It’s no issue,” Eileen said. She stirred a large pot of soup on the stove. “Dinner’s almost ready. Melissa, why don’t you take the spare room? There might be a few boxes you’ll have to move aside, but it’s cozy enough. And Milo, we don’t have another bed, but there’s an air mattress we can set up in Zack’s room.”

Milo showed her a deflated air mattress from his backpack. “It’s okay. I have five air mattresses in my backpack! As my dad always says, it’s always good to have one on hand for sleep emergencies and random Ducklett attacks!”

Eileen’s nose scrunched up in thought as she tried to figure out how an average sized backpack fit five air mattresses. “But Ducklett aren’t native to Hoenn.”

Melissa shook her head. “With Murphy’s Law, any species of Pokémon can appear anywhere at any time. Doesn’t matter if they’re native to the area or not.”

The flames on the stove suddenly flared up, almost engulfing the bottom of the pot. Eileen hurriedly turned a dial, and the flames sputtered out with a click.

“Oh, and random fires may crop up too. I’ll just leave this fire extinguisher here. Comes in pretty handy,” Milo said, placing a fire extinguisher in the corner.

After a few minutes, Eileen recovered. “Alright. You seem used to handling these…situations. Just go put down your things and I’ll have everything plated when you come back.”

The twins spent their dinner watching the Pokémon eat. Eileen had to remind them several times to take a bite of their own food.

“-and that’s why Sara swore off secretly watching weight-lifting competitions between wild Machop!” Milo finished. “So, what’s Littleroot like?”

“Not gonna lie. It’s boring. But just ignore my personal bias. I’ll always prefer the city myself. Did Zack tell you we lived in Olivine before?” Eileen said. “It’s sort of the Johto equivalent to your Slateport. Zack’s grandfather runs a Miltank farm just outside there.”

“My big brother fell into the Magikarp pond,” Lee giggled.

Zack almost choked on his soup. “Don’t tell them that!” he squeaked.

“It’s not exactly news to us,” Melissa said. “Besides, you’re not the only one with irrational fears. Take Milo for instance. He’s afraid of Ranseinese fingertraps.”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “Ranseinese fingertraps?”

“They’re a fiendish, diabolical trap that limits one’s dexterity while slowly suffocating the poor little capillaries,” Milo said. He was adamant that they were the worst traps known to mankind.

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Milo, you’re supposed to push your fingers in, It loosens the binding.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“Um, Milo?” Lance piped up. He shifted in his seat when everyone turned to him. “I just wanna know…what’s the stuff in Diogee’s food?”

Diogee growled protectively, nudging his food bowl away from prying eyes.

“Don’t worry, he wasn’t trying to steal your food,” Milo said soothingly. “Anyway, the red splotches in his pellets are Razz Berries. In addition to flavor, their hard shells also prevent an Absol’s fangs from growing too sharp. You don’t want them cutting their gums.”

Lance jumped out from his seat. “Sorrymomberightback!” he called over his shoulder as he rushed off.

Eileen placed a slice of cherry pie on Lance’s plate. “He wants to be a Pokémon Researcher like Marcus. Always writing down Pokémon facts and care tips in his notebook.”

Noticing that Mudkip and Torchic were trying to climb up the empty seat to get to the pie, Milo gently pulled them off. They protested as he deposited them next to their food bowls.

“No,” Milo said sternly. “That pie is for Lance.”

Torchic’s feathers puffed out, and Mudkip chewed on his wrist.

“They’re a handful,” Eileen remarked. “You might as well relax tonight because you’ve got some serious training to do on the road.”

Since Eileen said she worked better when people weren’t watching over her shoulder, nobody would be allowed in the house’s clinic while she conducted the Pokémon’s checkups.

Milo and Melissa took the opportunity to freshen up before joining Zack and the twins in the living room.

“What’s it like living around a bunch of Absol? What do they like to eat? What kind of disasters do they sense?” Lance fired all the Absol-related questions he could think of at Milo.

Milo answered him the best he could, pausing every once in while to make sure Lance had enough time to write his responses in his notebook.

Melissa, Zack, and Lee passed the time with a game of Poképoly. The Underwood siblings only had a few bills each, while Melissa had no shortage of money. Zack rolled the dice, then moved his Bellsprout piece to a space that had a plastic replica of the Indigo Plateau.

“I own Mt. Silver. That’ll be 2500 please,” Melissa smirked, holding out her hand expectantly.

“Extortionist,” Zack muttered, grudgingly forking over his remaining money. Because he didn’t have enough, Melissa took the remaining amount from the bank.

“First lesson of Poképoly, Lee. Show no mercy, not even to family. Crush ‘em. Make ‘em weep,” Melissa said. “Oh, and you wanna aim for the spaces around the jail area. More bang for your buck.”

Lee nodded vigorously, while Zack was less than pleased about Melissa teaching about the ways of ruthless corporatism.

“Zack, could I use your desktop to call my family?” Milo asked. “I promised them I’d call after we visited the lab.”

“I wanna meet your family!” Lance exclaimed.

“Me too!” Lee agreed.

“Okay, but try not to blow anything up,” Zack warned as he logged into the computer.

Milo shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t promise anything since Murphy’s Law would always find a way to surprise them. “I’ll try, but no promises.”

“Melissa, were you gonna call home too?” Zack asked.

Melissa shrugged, folding her arms defensively. “I already texted Dad. Besides, he’s probably got something at the fire department right now.”

After the fiasco in the helicopter, Milo couldn’t blame Melissa for wanting her space. But she and her dad would have to face each other in Lavaridge. Maybe the journey would give her time to think things over.

While Milo entered his username into the video chat service his family used, Eileen and the Pokémon came into the living room. Mudkip pawed at Milo until he was settled in his lap. Diogee laid by his feet, watching Mudkip from the corner of his eye. Meanwhile, Torchic and Treecko climbed all over Melissa and Zack.

“Your Pokémon are all healthy. After a hectic day, all they need is rest,” Eileen reported. “My only concern is Mudkip’s tendency to put things in his mouth. While it’s natural for young Pokémon to explore the world through taste and texture, your Mudkip is old enough to be a starter and should’ve outgrown that habit by now.”

Milo glanced down at Mudkip, who nibbled at a pocket on his shorts innocently. “I’ve noticed,” he admitted. “Can I train this out of him?”

“I suggest teaching him what he can or can’t put in his mouth. Yes for designated toys or food. No to body parts. You can probably find some toys at the Poké Mart in Oldale Town.”

“Okay, we’ll get some toys!” Milo agreed. “Thanks for the tip!”

“It’s my job,” Eileen said.

Sara answered the video call within seconds. “MOM! DAD! MILO’S CALLING!” she bellowed.

“Are things boring without us?” Milo teased.

Sara kicked back in her chair, sighing dramatically. “Boring’s an understatement. Now I don’t have anyone to gush about Dr. Magnezone with.”

“Don’t you have your friends in Mauville?” Melissa asked.

“Not the same! I’d be a laughingstock if I told them I shipped Dr. Magnezone with Clefablebelle!”

“You like Dr. Magnezone?” Lee gasped. “He’s the coolest person ever! I liked the episode where he tricked the evil Trubbishdroids into destroying their own fortress!”

“Sweet! Young fan! Always good to see the young people enjoying Dr. Zone!” Sara exclaimed. “So how do you know my brother?”

Lee pointed to Zack. “My brother brought him and Melissa home! We’re having one big sleepover tonight!”

Lance jumped in, obscuring Milo’s view of the screen. “Do you live on an Absol farm too? Are they just as cool as Diogee?”

Milo let the twins dominate the conversation, content to hang back for a while as he tried to gently dissuade Mudkip from chewing on his pockets. There were already several tiny holes in them, and he wanted his shorts to last.

After ten minutes, Brigitte and Martin joined in. “Sorry. Martin’s tie got stuck in the sink. I told you not to lean over the disposal, honey.”

“I got my guitar pick back though. Besides, I still have six more ties for the week,” Martin said. His tie hung in ribbons around his neck. “I see you’ve already made some friends.”

“We helped Zack rescue his dad from a pirate guy’s plot to release Magikarp into the local ecosystem,” Milo said. “You should’ve seen us! Zack’s friends with a Gyarados and Melissa’s really good at commanding two Pokémon at once!”

“Now this I gotta hear,” Sara said.

Zack tilted the camera to give them a better view of the Treecko on his head. “They forced me to run away from a giant boulder within five minutes of meeting me.”

“In our defense, we didn’t have time to explain certain details,” Melissa added.

Martin glanced outside, then held up a hand to stop Milo from retelling the story. “Sorry, can you hold on for a few minutes? I need to shoo some wild Geodude away from the outdoor furniture.”

Milo agreed, and the conversation shifted to Sara gushing over how adorable their Pokémon were. Torchic jumped onto the desk, peering into the camera curiously. Melissa pried Torchic off, accidentally knocking the computer mouse to the floor.

Before Zack could put the mouse back, a Linoone snatched it out of his hands.

“Hey!” Lee protested.

“Don’t let him out!” Melissa shouted. “Torchic, use Peck!”

Torchic darted towards Linoone, who jumped over her with the mouse clutched in his teeth. She rapidly pecked at the couch while Linoone continued his getaway.

You’ve never seen him before, this is just his debut!

He’s Recurring Linoone!

“I didn’t know you had ghosts,” Milo said. The Underwood house didn’t seem like the kind to hold any supernatural creatures.

Eileen hit the fleeing Linoone over the head with a broom, forcing him to drop the mouse. Then she opened the front door, sweeping Linoone outside before locking him out of the house. Melissa plugged the mouse into the computer, shaking it to make sure it worked.

“We don’t have ghosts. I have no idea where those annoying commercial jingle guys came from,” Zack said.

Wait, is this Pokéstar Studios? We’re supposed to be disembodied voice actors for a movie.

“Completely wrong region, man!” Melissa shouted in exasperation. ��That’s in Unova!”

“How do you mistake a house in Littleroot for a studio?” Zack asked.

That’s the last time we let Disembodied Reggae Space Voice give us directions. Dude still can’t let go of how we forgot the marshmallows on our last camping trip. Sorry for the intrusion. Thanks for your help!

“We must never speak of this incident again,” Melissa swore.

Milo turned back to the computer screen. Brigitte and Sara took the interruption in stride.

Then Martin returned, plucking a mustard-covered branch out of his hair. “So, you mentioned stopping a guy who talked like a pirate?”

AN: I used imaginashon’s art and notes of Lee and Lance as a base for their personalities. They’re both really adorable and I really wish they’d appear in MML because I’m sure they’d be a riot.  

As much as I love fanfiction, a downside of this medium is how cartoon gags don’t translate well to text. Sometimes I feel like Murphy’s Law doesn’t happen as often as it should because I can’t just have random things explode because Milo happens to be there. So I try to include it in the situations the characters get into instead.

Ransei is the region in Pokemon Conquest. I know it’s based off feudal Japan but there isn’t a direct equivalent of China.  

Melissa has a 133-0 winning streak in Poképoly. She’s keeping it that way.  

[lazyfox411]

happy birthday keith: a sickfic

so a little while ago, I put out a post asking for suggestions on what to write for keiths birthday. @radiofreekerberos suggested shiro throw keith a surprise party (thank you sm btw), and I tried a lot of different ideas but nothing was coming lol so went to my default which is sicfics. and even then here I present the worst thing ive ever written :P

but the only way i wouldnt write for my boys birthday is if i was dead. 

Fall was a pretty good season. Pretty colours, Halloween, pumpkin spice everything, perfect jacket and scarf weather—usually. Today, Keith had realized too late, was perfect raincoat and boots weather.

He shivered, pulling his sweater tighter around his shoulders. He was already miserable, and now this. Granted, it was just a light rain, but he had also been plagued with a persistent case of the sniffles. After sneezing and shaking all day, suffering through school and work like a braindead zombie, Keith was more than ready to go home and rest, rain be damned.

When he had clocked out of work, he'd felt a nagging in the back of his mind, like he'd been forgetting to do something. But he'd done everything he was supposed to, hadn't he? Clean the tables, sweep the floors, empty the register, lock up. That was it. He'd done it all. Maybe he just felt off because he wasn’t usually the one to lock up he diner. It was Hunk’s diner, and he was usually the last one out, so naturally the one to lock up everyday. But today he'd left Keith in charge for the last hour before closing time, claiming he had some sort of important business to take care of. He refused to say what this business was, which was odd because Hunk usually never kept secrets. It was pretty much physically impossible for him, and even today he'd looked like he was about to burst.

It was odd, Keith thought, Hunk had been avoiding him most of the day. Unlike the odd feeling of a forgotten obligation.

Keith checked his bag. He went over all his possessions, taking inventory. Textbooks, work clothes, pencils and papers. A few assignments his professor had handed back today. Keith was actually pretty proud of those; they’d gotten good marks. Maybe he was forgetting an upcoming college project. He checked his phone, but there were no reminders.

After coming up emptyhanded, he decided to push away the feeling and just focus on getting warm. The rain was freezing, and his teeth were chattering, nose running, fingers numb. He wasn’t sure if it was raining harder now, and that was why he couldn’t see, or if his vision was just going blurry because he was exhausted. He didn't care. He just wanted to be home, in bed. His clothes were soaked now, and his shoes pooled with water wherever he stepped, squelching on the pavement.

There were about two blocks to go until he would be home. Keith tried to focus on that. He plodded along, head down, trying and failing to avoid all the puddles. When he looked up to cross the street, his body couldn’t keep up with his eyes, and the world started spinning much too fast and he was stumbling out into the street.

A flash of headlights and the too-loud sound of a horn, the screech of brakes. The car slammed to a halt just feet away, spraying Keith in a shower of dirty puddle water. The driver screamed at him, but Keith couldn’t make out what was being said over the torrential downpour and the ringing of his ears. He scurried out of the road, trembling even harder because now not only was he freezing, but holy shit he'd almost been hit by a car.

The apartment door was locked. Shiro must not be home, Keith figured. He liked sharing an apartment with Shiro. It was easier on rent, and it was nice to not be alone. Keith had been alone a lot, and while he did like his solitude, Shiro had made him realize that being all alone all the time wasn’t all that great. Keith clumsily wiped the water from his face as he searched for his keys, and he didn't want to admit it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a few tears had been wiped with it, because now he was thinking about a little raven-haired kid, all alone on the streets, no idea who his mother was, no clue where his father went, scared and hungry and tired and ready to give up. Until Shiro had taken him in and given him a real family, for the first time.

Keith finally found his keys, and as he slid them into the lock he was silently berating himself for getting so emotional all of a sudden. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he get a grip? And why was he so cold? Pointless questions swirled in his mind, and the more he thought, the worse it got, until he found the strength to grip the door handle. At least he was pretty sure he did, he still couldn’t feel his fingers, all he wanted to do was get inside and go to bed, but there was still the feeling he'd forgotten something and not knowing was making him feel sick to his stomach—

“SURPRISE!!!”

Keith nearly toppled over backwards from the sheer force of the six voices all screaming in unison. He blinked, trying to take in the scene in front of him. Shiro, Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura and Coran were positioned around the room, wearing pointed paper hats and cheering and throwing streamers. Pidge had three kazoos sticking out of her mouth and was violently blowing out a tune that sounded oddly similar to “Here Comes the Bride,” and she was spread out like a starfish, holding a sparkly happy birthday banner that was nearly as big as her. Evidently it had been made by Lance, who was covered head to toe in glitter and waving around a bunch of balloons. Hunk stood behind the kitchen table in front of a cake. The yellow headband he always wore had been replaced by a weave of ribbons.

“Happy birthday, Keith!” Lance shouted. Keith just stared at him.

“You didn't forget your own birthday, did you?” Shiro asked. He had a large red gift box held in his arms.

Keith blinked again. He could see Allura and Coran out of the corner of his eye. Coran had his hands held behind his back. Allura’s were pulled up under her chin, excitedly awaiting Keith's reaction.

Keith continued to stare. The room fell silent. The banner drooped. The gift was set down. The balloons stilled. Keith just stared, at his friends, the decorations, the cake. It was too much. Too much noise, too many sparkles, too many people. Too much for his rain-soaked, pounding head to compute all at once.

He felt his face grow hot. His knees went weak, and he sunk to the floor, and before he could stop himself, he was sobbing.

He didn't process what was being said, but he heard voices, words. They sounded worried.

“Oh, dear.” Allura.

“Perhaps we surprised him too much.” Coran.

“Aw, gee, man, you walked all that way without an umbrella?” Lance.

“Guys, he doesn’t look so good.” Hunk.

Keith felt a pair of tiny hands gently finding his wrists, and he curled his fingers around them. Through a haze of tears, he saw light glinting off Pidge’s glasses. “Hey, Keith, what’s the matter?”

“I-I-I-I’m-I’m ss-sorry,” Keith cried. He wiped furiously at his eyes, fists stilled balled up with Pidge’s teeny little fingers. He could barely talk, his throat felt so tight. How could his face fell so hot when the rest of him was freezing cold?

“Hey, it’s okay, Keith, it’s okay.” Keith felt a strong, warm hand on his back, and he leaned towards it, into Hunk. Hunk was warm, and it helped ease Keith's shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Keith repeated.

Shiro looked down at him thoughtfully. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…don’t feel very well.”

Suddenly there was a hand brushing his bangs from his forehead, blessedly cool on his too-hot face. Keith sighed in relief as Shiro moved closer and shifted the hand to cup his cheek, and press against his brow.

“He’s burning up,” Shiro said. Keith got the feeling Shiro wasn’t talking to him anymore, because everyone else seemed to jolt to attention.

“You mean he’s sick?” Lance asked worriedly.

“Aw, Keith, why didn't you say anything?” Hunk frowned.

“Didn't give me much of a chance,” Keith mumbled, chasing the last traces of tears from his face. He was still shivering.

Shiro wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you some dry clothes, huh?”

Keith nodded, and before he could protest Shiro was scooping him up off the ground. There wasn’t really any sense in trying to wriggle free now, Keith figured, was there? He coughed wetly, congestion settling in his lungs. He really should have taken an umbrella.

“We’re terribly sorry, Keith,” Allura said softly. “We thought a surprise party might be a good way to celebrate your birthday. I see now we were wrong.”

Keith shook his head lightly, managing a soft smile. “It’s okay, Allura.”

“Is there anything I can do? Perhaps Coran and I could run to the drugstore to get you some medicine?”

“Ye—” Keith was cut short by a harsh coughing fit.

“That would be great,” Shiro answered for him.

Shiro brought him to his room, helped him towel off his hair, and found him some dry pyjamas. Keith changed, and crawled into bed. The soft enclosure of blankets made him sleepy, and he vaguely thought that this was the most content he'd felt all day.

“You do know it’s your birthday today, right?” Shiro sat next to him on the bed.

“I, uh…might have forgot.”

Shiro sighed. “I’m really sorry, Keith. This whole surprise party was my idea. I know we never really did anything for your birthday other years, but this year I thought you might enjoy it. I'm sorry I've ruined your special day.”

“Shiro, you didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry I messed it all up by getting sick. I—" Before he could say anything more, there was a knock at the door, and Lance, Hunk, and Pidge appeared. Hunk held a steaming mug of tea in his hands, which Keith accepted gratefully.

“How do you feel now?” Lance asked. He sat on Keith's other side.

Keith decided to just be honest. He'd probably already made a fool of himself anyway. “I feel cold.” The rain had somehow seeped into his bones, and now he was chilled all the way through. Shiro put an arm around his shoulders and rubbed the goosebumps that dotted Keith's bicep. Lance found his way to Keith's side, and Pidge spread herself over his legs. Keith felt their warmth, their love and support, and he was pretty sure it was the best birthday present he had ever received. He told them as much.

“Oh, speaking of presents,” Hunk jumped up, “you still haven’t gotten to open yours.” He ducked out of the room and returned moments later with the red box. “From all of us,” he said.

Keith inspected it closely. Nobody had ever really given him a birthday present before, other than Shiro, and that had always been something like a candy bar, or a pair of socks. Not that Shiro didn't care, of course, he just knew that Keith didn't like making a big deal over things like that. This year was different, though. Keith had begun to come out of his shell, and Shiro had noticed, or else he wouldn’t be surrounded by all his closest friends right now.

Keith tentatively tore at the paper.

“Come on, dude, don’t be scared,” Lance grinned. “It isn’t gonna hurt you.”

Keith ripped the rest off, and opened the box. From the folds of tissue paper inside, he produced a thick, leather-bound book.

“Open it, “Shiro encouraged.

Keith flipped open the cover. The paper inside was a warm, off-white colour, thick and grainy. Each of his friends’ signatures were scrawled around the page, around a photo of the seven of them laughing and making silly faces. It was a scrapbook.

He turned the page, nervous under his friends’ expectant eyes. This page was filled with more photos, candid shots of playing video games with Pidge and Lance, him and Hunk with frosting on their noses, Shiro spraying them all with the hose, selfies in bathroom mirrors, sitting at coffee shops, walking down trails. Keith kept turning pages, a smile creeping up his face as he remembered all the days these pictures had been taken. There were other things, too, a movie ticket, a receipt from the hospital when Keith had broken his arm, a fallen leaf from the national park. There was so much, but all of it had one thing in common: every photo, every memory, was of a time when Keith and his friends had all been together.

“Wow, guys, I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“We’re glad you like it,” Hunk smiled.

“And look,” Pidge’s eyes glowed as she thumbed through the remaining pages, “we left you some blank ones, so that you can add your own stuff.”

Keith couldn’t help the dumb grin that was splitting his face. “Thank you,” he repeated. “I can't believe you guys did all this for me. I'm just so sorry I messed it all up.”

“No way,” Shiro said. He tightened his grip around Keith's shoulder. “You didn't ruin anything. We’re sorry we forced this onto you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this is one birthday I'm sure to never forget,” Keith said. It was true. Not because he was sick, not because he'd burst into tears—though that would probably haunt him for some time—but because this birthday had been spent with people he cared about. And they, in turn, cared about him. Keith rested his head on Shiro's chest and let his eyes flutter shut. He felt Lance's breathing even out next to him, Pidge on his legs, and Hunk’s warmth by his feet.

By the time Allura and Coran returned with the medicine, the five of them were all asleep.

[dat-town]

Chance encounters

Characters: Sungjin & exchange student!OC & Dowoon

Setting: college au so it fits @day6imagines September task ^^

Genre: slice of life, little angsty bittersweet towards the end

Summary:  That’s just how life is: a series of chance encounters colouring our story, teaching us new things, giving us unforgettable memories.

Words: 2.4k

“Hey, you look lost. Do you need help?”

Well, as much as I don’t want to seem lost on my first day of a new university, I appreciate the help, so I quickly glance up from my paper sheets and the low quality campus map that doesn’t help me at all to find the C.VI. lecture room. There aren't even letters on these ridiculously huge wooden doors in this building. Not to mention, I could only find four rooms on the ground floor, although I’m sure I need the sixth one.

However, I don't understand one bit of what the kind, helpful guy said since I don't speak his language. My knowledge is kind of stuck between Thank you and How much does it cost? that my brand new roommate in the dorms taught me yesterday. But I’m quite sure I can't use these in this situation.

“I'm sorry, I don't speak Korean,” I apologize quickly for the lack of my reaction because the guy started to look funny at me and a little suspicious, too. He has nice features, pretty caramel eyes and a soft smile that's hard to look away from. I guess he’s a few years older, looking all nice in his light blue dress shirt but not too elegant with his backpack on one shoulder.

“You look lost,” he probably repeats what he said earlier in the language I know and that makes me smile awkwardly. His words aren’t offending at all, he’s just stating facts.

“Do I?” I giggle a bit, playing with the ends of my hair. It has a slight grape colour in it blending into the natural brown. I quite like it and I’m glad I don't make the odd man out here at all. Not long ago, I saw a girl with blue hair so I’m positive that lucky me came to a liberal college.

“Well, I was just here,” he points to a chair in the hall’s waiting area, “sipping my coffee and I noticed you walking back and forth at least three times, so yeah, I assumed you were lost.”

“Nice conclusion. I can't find the lecture room where I should be...” I trail off sneaking a glance at my watch and my eyes widen in shock as I check the time. “...like right now.”

“It's okay, if it's a lecture, nobody will say anything,” the cute guy with nice smile tries to soothe my nerves but I only pout in response.

“I know. It’s just that this is my first day here and I don’t want to leave negative impression as the arrogant exchange student,” I shrug lost in my thoughts.

Being able to come here with the scholarship program was a big dream of mine and I’m lucky enough to be able to study my major here in English. I would be in big trouble if they only had native language admission option.

“I see. Where do you have to go?” he nods at me, understanding and I like the way English words taste on his tongue. I like his slight accent, it's cute, too, like the rest of him.

“C.VI.” I check once again in my timetable and the guy makes an oh sound in realization.

“Well then you are in the wrong building.”

“What? I’m in the wrong place?” I blink eyes bulging and I don’t know if I should cry or laugh at my silliness. However, my guardian angel doesn’t look at me like I’m stupid.

“Yeah, this is the E building. But don't worry, the C is really close. You leave through the southern exit and you will see a glass building on the other side of the road, that's the one you need.”

“Oh shoot, I would have been looking for it here all day. Thank you so much! I would really like to properly thank you, like with a coffee. But I’m a hurry and uhm... ” I’m rambling since I don’t want to be more late than I already am and I just say the first thing that comes to my mind without thinking. He said he drank coffee, didn’t he? It’s just common courtesy to offer something in exchange for his help and kindness. But maybe he doesn’t even understand my flustered speech so I take out a folded paper of my messy bag and scribble down my name and number on it. “Call me whenever you are free and I will pay for a coffee.”

“But...” he tries to protest as I force the paper into his hands. I shake my head, shutting him up.

“Not buts. Don’t be shy about it. You just kind of saved my life, or at least my first day here so it’s the least. See ya!” I wave childishly and practically sprint out of the exit he showed me and yes, there is the huge glass building with slightly weird architecture in front of me. How could I mix the two buildings up?

Once I enter this one, finding C.VI. is a piece of cake, I don’t even need to ask for anybody else’s help. The professor is already talking by the time I make it into the room but just like the cute guy said she doesn't even pay attention to me. So wordlessly, I make my way to one of the empty seats of the second row. The teacher’s monotonous speech about the academic quality and the importance of the subject dulls in the background as I pack out my notepad and writing tools.

We are around ten minutes into the lesson when the door opens again and a sleepy-looking boy slips in. The prof pays him no attention and continues the boring lesson about Psycholinguistics while said boy approaches the empty seat next to me. When he’s close enough, he whispers something to me and I can only guess he’s asking if he could sit down. I nod briefly and smile at his politeness. When he slumps down, he drops his bag to the floor with a louder thud than it was needed. He looks startled for a second when suddenly everybody focuses on him but luckily, the professor keeps talking like nothing happened.

“Can I… ?” the boy whispers gesturing towards my collection of pens. I almost laugh because even if we don’t speak the same language I know exactly what he wants.

“Pick one,” I offer with a smile and watch in amusement as his eyes go wide. He looks young, eyes expressive like beautifully colourful expressionist paintings, his dark hair slightly curly which is a nice addition to his boyish features.

“Thanks,” he switches quickly to the common language of ours and I wonder how a boy so cute and young can have a voice deeper than the Pacific ocean.

During the lesson, I can’t help that my mind keeps recalling my recent meeting with that helpful guy and his heart-fluttering smile. Deep inside I hope he would call soon. It would be nice to have somebody around in a foreign country.

Almost an hour and a half later, everybody is packing, fleeing out of the room, relieved that the class is finally over. And here I am worrying about how to get to my next class. I don’t trust myself anymore with these things. So when my seatmate turns to me to hand back the pen he borrowed, I ask for his help.

“Can you help me find this room?”

“Uhm, sure,” the boy takes one quick look at the timetable I have in my hands then cracks a smile, exclaiming: “Oh I have the same class! Then we can go together.”

“Great!” I smile back collecting all my stuff in my arms, following the crowd towards the door.

“I’m Dowoon by the way,” the guy speaks up shyly and I also introduce myself quickly, letting him know some brief information about me like where I came from and stuff like this. He listens attentively, looking straight ahead but I manage to get him to answer a few questions like what he wants to do as a performing artist major and it turns out that his first pick was actually music but he ended up here. He says he’ll wait until the end of the semester to think about transferring.

We talk a lot about the school, the country and things we like during break time and even though Dowoon looked quite mysterious at first, he can be chatty when he lets somebody in. I’m just happy to be one of the privileged.

A bunch of students wait in a little seminar room, everybody excited about our first practical class this year which is really important for theatre majors like myself. My breath gets stuck in my throat when a familiar figure steps into the room seconds after the lesson was supposed to start. The cute guy who helped me in the morning is now walking straight towards us, keeping his gaze on the papers in his hands. I almost wave to him, all giddy and smiley when he looks up and his face is all serious and modest.

“Hello class! Let’s get to it,” he clap his hands and my jaw hits the floor as the realization slowly sinks in. “My name is Park Sungjin, you can call me either Mr. Park or just prof. Outside of class I go by Sungjin but I’m here to teach you about the basics of the art of improvisation in theatre culture.”

I gape at him dumbfounded until Dowoon nudges my side and I try to compose yourself. Isn’t he too young to teach? Okay, there’s some maturity behind his youthful appearance but still! It’s unfair.

The prof makes us sit in a circle and we do get-to-know each other games and Activity on a whole new level where we have to re-enact a movie scene and the others have to guess it. Nobody disses others for their broken English, everybody is really open-minded and supportive. It’s the most unusual class I have ever been to but so far, the most pleasant and funny one, too. The only drawback is the teacher himself. Well, not exactly he is the problem but the fact that cute guy from earlier is a professor, a great one at that. The worst is that he doesn’t even look at me when he doesn’t have to. I’m about to become resigned to being ignored when he calls my name before I could leave the room after class.

“Do you have a moment?” he asks and Dowoon looks past his shoulder with questioning eyes while he holds the door for me.

“Go ahead. I will catch up,” I tell him and only turn back to Mr. Park when I hear the door click. I'm not sure why but I feel bashful and embarrassed all of a sudden. I didn’t expect to be left alone with Sungji... Mr. Park, I remind myself.

“I see you already found a friend,” he notes and I can’t decipher the stuffiness in his tone.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he smiles, but it seems somewhat forced. He scratches his nape and it’s weird, he knows it, I know it. He laughs a bit. “Look I don’t want you to be awkward around me. You asked your teacher out for a coffee. It happens, not often but don’t sweat it.”

“I won’t,” I promise him and he tells me I should go after my friend. I do as he says, he’s my teacher after all no matter how salty I am because of this.

“What did he want?” Dowoon looks up from his phone curiously when he sees me.

“Nothing much, just something about my internship,” I shrug and the lie slips my mouth easily. A bad sign. “How about we grab lunch?”

“That’s the idea! I’m starving!” he exclaims and we practically run towards the canteen area.

 Little did I know back then that both boys will leave a beautiful imprint on my heart when I leave the country a semester later.

One of them breaks it but it’s not his fault. I’m simply foolish enough to fall for him. I should know better than to develop a crush on my attractive, funny and kind professor who smiles at me a lot more than he should. He agrees to that coffee too eventually, after I get my grade and there’s something sad in his usual smile when we get our Americanos.

“Wrong timing,” he says, regret lacing his words and his soft fingertips run alongside my jaw. He doesn’t have to say more, I know what he thinks about. I had a feeling, a hopeful thought that I can’t be indifferent to him either. But the rules! We don’t make them but we have to follow them. I would never risk his career over an infatuation. It will pass, I tell myself and maybe, sometime in the future, it really will.

“Take care,” Sungjin says his goodbye stroking my cheek lightly and when I watch him go, my heart seizes painfully.

And Dowoon? In his case, I’m the one who breaks his heart. I treat him as a best friend even though I know he only has eyes for me. Autumn is full of laughter, tag games in the midst of falling leaves, movie nights and library dates. When he holds my hand, it’s warm and nice but I can’t look at him like that. He’s a friend, a little brother and when he inches closer, I turn away my head so his lips fall onto my cheek instead of my mouth. It feels like betrayal and I see the sadness clearly in his eyes, even if he laughs it off.

“I do love you...” I mutter apologetically, avoiding his gaze. “Just…”

“Not like that. I know,” he nods and wraps his arms around me like he always does. It’s his way of telling: he’s here, he will always be by my side if I ever need him.

It was all meant to end anyway, I have known this ever since I got the scholarship. But that’s just how life is: a series of chance encounters colouring our story, teaching us new things, giving us unforgettable memories. Funny innuendos during improvisation classes or those banana milk exchanges with a shy, sparkling eyed boy. On the plane back home when I leave Korea with a nostalgic smile, I realize: I don’t regret anything. Nothing at all.